Nappily in Bloom

by Trisha R. Thomas

  Jory screamed with glee, “Mya, you’re back!”

  They rushed into each other’s arms like it had been a decade since they’d seen each other.

  “What do you do?” Mr. Stanton smiled. “Can’t fight love.”

  “No, but it will sure kick the hell out of you,” I was too tired to make nice talk. “Clothes.”

  “Let me apologize for Holly. This party was for me. It was my fault I overlapped on Jory’s birthday. She’s stressed, no doubt. Her rudeness should be excused.” He shifted his eyes. “Well, at least this once.” He handed me a pair of Jory’s Hanes underpants with a picture of Superman flying through the air and some jeans and a T-shirt.

  “Thank you, and I was a bit rude myself . . . to you, so I apologize as well.” I pulled Mya and took her into the bathroom. She was quick lifting her arms so I could get the dress over her head. Her round tummy pushed out with the cutest belly button I was sure I’d ever seen. It was perfect from the day the rest of the umbilical cord fell off. “Step.” I held the cotton underwear while she leaned on my shoulder. Her new hairdo brushed against me, the wild spikes pushed up and over in Donald Trump fashion. Her ears were tinged with red welts right along with her neck.

  “Sweetie, didn’t it hurt when you burned yourself? Why did you keep doing it?”

  “ ’Cause I want to be pretty . . . for Jory.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up. “You are pretty. You’re beautiful. Jory likes you just as you are.” I wasn’t going to have this conversation in the Stantons’ bathroom. I needed neutral territory. “Let’s go.”

  The senator was still out in the room, stretched on the carpeted floor. “Everything okay?” He pushed his miniature car on the racetrack behind Jory’s.

  “Nothing’s okay.” I felt it coming—the rage, the tears, the breakdown of epic proportion.

  “Hey, hey . . .” He was on his feet in a matter of seconds, wrapping an arm around me. Mya was at my thigh, giving me a comfort pat.

  “It’s just hair, Mommy. You say all the time. It’s just hair.”

  “Right, just hair.” I welled up and tried to keep myself from hyperventilating, or at least keep it to a minimum.

  “Mommy just needs a moment. Give her a minute.” His arms enclosed around me. I blubbered into his tuxedo shirt.

  “I’m so sorry. Oh.” I patted the wet spot. “Do you have a spare?”

  “Forget about the shirt. Come on, sit.”

  “I’m okay, really. Don’t you have to get to your party?”

  “What party?” He grinned. Jory’s playroom was filled with child-sized furniture. We sat in the romper-sized seats. “Tell me what’s eatin’ you all up inside. Besides my wife. She has that effect on a lot of people, trust me.”

  “I’m just tired. Nothing serious.” And I meant it this time. I wasn’t about to go into a soliloquy of Jake being hunted by the FBI and a local small-time criminal threatening our lives. “Really, I think it’s hormonal. I’m okay.”

  “Okay, all right. I’m not going to press.”

  “I really have to go.” I tried to rise. The seat was too low, so I ended up rolling to the side and squeezing out.

  In between his laughter he said, “You know what, I haven’t smiled this much in a long time. I can see why Jory is smitten with your daughter if she’s got your personality. You are seriously a breath of fresh air.”

  “Always glad to entertain.” I got to my feet. “Thank you for the clothes.”

  “We’ll walk you out. Right, Jory—let’s be gentlemen and walk these beautiful ladies to the door.”

  “No. Really, we’re going to beeline it right out of here. Hopefully with as little attention as possible. Thanks again.”

  “That’s three times.”

  “What?”

  “You keep thanking me. You don’t have to thank me.” He opened the door. At the exact same time, Holly was rounding the corner.

  “What in God’s name. There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.” She looked past him, then at me. “You’re still here?”

  I didn’t bother to answer her rhetorical question. I took Mya’s hand and walked down the regal stairs. All I could hear was Jory’s loud whine: “Why not? She’s my best friend.”

  It’s complicated, sweetie. Very complicated. And it never gets any easier.

  Shall We Dance

  “Gray Hillman, you have some nerve, absolute unequivocal nerve. Please don’t think this is over. I will not rest until you are nothing but a distant memory.” I took a breath only to hear the dial tone where Gray had obviously hung up before I was through. I marched back and forth across the deck of my penthouse. The chilled air was necessary if I was going to cool down. He’d masterminded the entire incident at the brunch. Delma and I fell into play like two silly puppets, fighting in front of Keisha that way.

  The chime announced a security call from downstairs. At ten at night, I certainly wasn’t expecting any visitors.

  “Yes.”

  “Ma’am, Mr. Fisher is here. Should I send him up?”

  “No, you may not,” I sang out. “There is a note posted on your security station that specifically requests for him not to be allowed in the building.” The guard was young and new, but that was no excuse. “You can read, can’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I can read.”

  “Don’t get snippy. I’m just asking a question. If you could read, you wouldn’t be making this phone call.”

  He took a long deep breath. “Sorry for the interruption.”

  “You have a good night, and God bless.” I certainly was in no mood for Airic’s attitude. I’d ignored his phone call earlier, didn’t even bother to listen to his message. Whatever he had to say would have to be on an affidavit declaring our divorce and me free and clear of owing him a dime.

  This time the buzzing sound was coming from my front door. I moved cautiously from the deck and decided I should call to make sure they hadn’t let Airic in. And if they had, I was going to make sure heads rolled.

  “This is Ms. Doval, I’m calling to make sure Airic Fisher was not allowed to come up.”

  “Mr. Fisher was escorted out, ma’am. He left.”

  “Uh-huh, well someone’s knocking on my door at this moment. Don’t you have cameras or something where you can see who it is?”

  “No, not on your floor.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean, not on my floor?”

  “Ma’am, you can only access your floor with a keycard. That means either a tenant or a security guard would have to give access to your floor. Like I said, no one here gave Mr. Fisher access.”

  “Fine. Thank you.” I hung up, reassured but still cautious. I tiptoed gently through the living room. I spied through the peephole, greeted by a large bouquet of roses. “Who is it?”

  “Dr. Perry, your neighbor.” His sharp features were revealed when the flowers were shifted from one side to the other. “I have something that was left for you downstairs. Thought I’d be considerate and bring them up. I’ll leave them here right outside the door if you’re indisposed.”

  “Yes, please do.” I watched him bend then stand up without the bouquet. He disappeared out of view. I waited momentarily and listened for his footsteps to fade. The penthouse he shared with his gay lover was gratefully on the other side of the building, but we used the same elevator. When the coast was clear, I opened the door.

  The first thing I noticed was Airic’s scent. The air of his cologne brushed past me, and then I saw him nearly eye to eye with me. “What in the world?”

  “Please, we need to talk.” He appeared from around the corner. He held the divorce papers he’d been served with.

  “Are you serious? You sneak in here like some thieving criminal and expect me to let you in?”

  He fell to his knee, holding the flowers he’d tricked Dr. Perry into delivering. “We have been through so much together. I know your faults, you know mine. We both did some hurtful things. The f
act still remains that we are right for each other.” He swallowed hard, as if he was going to lose his nerve. “I need you. I need you more than I’ve ever needed anything or anyone in my life.”

  “Get up. Groveling out here like some—” I yanked the flowers out of his hand. “Come inside.”

  The next time I saw Dr. Perry, he was going to get an earful. I marched straight to the sink and filled a vase with water. Airic knew my weakness was beautiful flowers. Lately with all that was going on, I had no time to organize weekly deliveries. That was Chandra’s job before she’d slept with my husband.

  “You need to put a stop to this.” Airic’s voice sounded different. In those few seconds, he’d gone from pitiful to making a full-on demand. He’d shifted his feet as if he wasn’t sure which way he wanted to go. Then I felt him close behind me. “You have to speak with the district attorney. All you have to do is tell the D.A. the truth. The absolute truth.”

  “I did that already,” I said, turning around with the vase of flowers to give myself some room. “But I can’t talk them out of the statutory charge. Maybe it’s Chandra who could lend a hand in that regard.”

  “The preliminary hearing is on Tuesday, Trevelle. Show them the application where she lied about her age. You are better than this. I know how hurt and angry you are, but I also know you live by the laws of the Holy Spirit. Forgiveness. Compassion. Empathy. Venus won’t let me see my daughter. I have lost everything just like that.” He snapped a finger. “More important, I’ve lost you.”

  I was quickly aware of his manipulation. Yet he spoke the truth. “Okay, all right. I will try one more time. But that’s it. I have a lot going on right now. Keisha’s wedding day is coming, and she uninvited me today. Everything that’s going on has really been tough on me.”

  He reached out, touching my cheek. It had been an exhausting and devastating day. I was being tested; this much I knew. Even as he cupped my face and his lips met mine, I knew it was all a test. “Airic.” I tried to speak, but the word no wouldn’t release. He smelled so good. We were still husband and wife, and I was a woman who deserved and needed to be held.

  “I’ve never stopped for a minute wishing for you.” He began to slip his hands underneath my blouse.

  I can’t do this. I pulled back. I needed him in the worst way, but I knew if I gave in, I’d lose whatever dignity I had left.

  “I need your forgiveness,” he said, attempting to kiss me again.

  “I forgive you. Now you can go. You got what you came for.”

  He dropped his arms to his sides. “I don’t want to leave you like this. I can see you’re upset.”

  “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry, I’ll call the D.A. tomorrow on your behalf.”

  That seemed to satisfy him. He touched my chin. “When this is over, we’re going to go on a long trip, somewhere hot and beautiful, just like you.”

  Oh brother. “Looking forward to it,” I said before closing the door and securing the lock.

  I called down to the manager of the building and gave him a scathing replay, starting with the security guard and ending with Dr. Perry, who may or may not have known his part in the trickery. Either way, heads were going to roll.

  The Truth and

  Nothing But

  Media vans printed with various TV channel logos lined the street in front of the courthouse. There was always a salacious case happening. No shortage of high-visibility court drama in the city of Atlanta. I moved past the crowd of broadcast journalists with my head held high. I turned to face the small news crowd.

  “Ms. Doval, I understand you’re testifying today in the preliminaries of your husband’s trial. Does this mean there’s no hope for a reconciliation?”

  “My husband and I are working hard to put our differences aside. But the law is the law. These charges were brought against him by the district attorney, not me personally.” I had no choice but to maintain a good front. I couldn’t stand up for him publicly, at least not yet.

  “You’re testifying against him, is that correct?”

  “I’m giving a statement, plain and simple. The truth is all that is required of me. My heart breaks in tiny pieces recalling the abuse I suffered at the hands of my husband. No woman should have to live in fear of the one who should be protecting her.”

  “I see. Good luck, Ms. Trevelle Doval. We at Channel Four News wish you the best.”

  “Luck has little to do with my fate or anyone else’s. God has blessed me in abundance. Luck is for the faithless and those without Christ in their heart. But when you know better, you do better.” I closed my eyes. “Heavenly Father, guide this wonderful young woman into your light and show her your blessings, let her know your greatness, dear Lord, so she may carry on in your name, amen.” I took a deep breath and walked away.

  That, of course, wouldn’t make it to the nightly news. I knew all too well what was considered worthy of repeating and what wasn’t. Prayer time could only be bought and paid for, but if it had something to do with defaming, killing, or maiming, it would be the lead-in story.

  “Ms. Doval, you are such an inspiration.” The female security guard smiled while she barely searched my purse.

  “Thank you. Realize I receive my inspiration and perseverance from wonderful women like you.”

  She handed the purse back. “Stay strong, sister.”

  I gave her a nod. “I have God on my side. I can do all things through Jesus Christ.” I stood in front of the elevator door and said a quiet prayer. The door and my eyes opened at the same time.

  Airic stood before me, dressed exquisitely in the gray Lagerfeld suit I’d picked out for him that very morning. The tie I’d bought as a Father’s Day gift last year when I’d talked him into taking responsibility for his daughter, Mya. He looked amazing. I wasn’t particularly well dressed. I needed to appear downtrodden and resistant to this media circus for my populace. I wore a butter-toned blouse with a few too many creases near the elbow and a pair of black pants a size too big. However, it had all been planned. What I hadn’t planned to see was Chandra being escorted by Airic like a poor mistake. Her sad black pantsuit was something off a Sears clearance rack. Airic’s hand dropped from her hand as soon as he realized it was me.

  “Hello, Trevelle.” Chandra stopped dead in front of me. “I’m so sorry about all the trouble I caused.”

  Anger slashed through me. My heart was broken, no denying the fact. My head hurt from holding my breath. My steely gaze was exact. I nodded but didn’t speak while creating a wide distance between us.

  I did my absolute best to stay levelheaded, though I was about to bust. They weren’t going to see me sweat. He would be doing the sweating and soon, once I finished with the testimony I was about to deliver, he’d be doing a little begging and groveling, too.

  I quickly took my space on the elevator. The stench of her cheap toilet water remained. I pushed the button and let the door close without so much as a blink of my eyes. I even curled my fingers in a baby wave to secure the effect of being nonfazed.

  However, once the doors closed, I slouched against the wall, cradling my chest after having held my breath too long.

  Not until the elevator stopped on the third floor and I exited did I take a long, deep inhale. I tried to stop myself. Even as I flipped open my phone, I told myself not to press Airic’s number. I told myself not to. Dear God, give me strength.

  Airic answered on the first ring.

  “How dare you embarrass me like this! You bring that whore on your arm when you know there are TV cameras everywhere? You have no decency. You’re the lowest scum of this earth.”

  “I did exactly what you suggested.”

  “Oh, meaning you seduced her into defending your sorry ass.”

  “That’s ridiculous. We agreed on how this would go. Why are you acting this way?”

  “The question is, how dare you run around hand in hand with that whore for full viewing. Then when you see me, you try to pretend there’s nothing between yo
u. I hate you. I hate you with all my heart.”

  He hung up on me. I dialed him right back. “The righteous shall rise—”

  Before I could finish, the distinct silence of the call going dead stopped me. I dialed again. The phone was shut off. It went straight to voice mail. I continued with what I had to say. “Matthew 10:10. The righteous shall rise above the pious and petty.”

  Within seconds of hanging up, I dialed again. “Airic, your job was simply to provide and protect, and I did the damn providing. Why have you forsaken me? Why—?”

  I heard movement behind me and closed my phone. Something told me when I turned around it wasn’t going to be good. The smartly dressed newswoman held her microphone close to her chest, as if she’d just witnessed a crime. The cameraman kept rolling.

  I swung my purse, nearly hitting her. “Turn it off. Turn that camera off.”

  Later that evening Channel 9 News announced the footage as an exclusive. The tagline read: RECOGNIZING ABUSED-WIFE SYNDROME. An expert psychologist, an older woman with gray-and-black wings for hair pointed at the miniature screen next to her. “You see the way her shoulders are slumped,” she said, gesturing with a pen. “And the posture of her stance. She is defeated and hopeless. This is a classic case. That would explain why she still wants her husband back after what he’s done to her, begging for his love. One could even say asking for more abuse by wishing for the relationship to continue. Trevelle Doval is obviously suffering from abused-wife syndrome.”

  Forget about the perfect testimony I’d given to the district attorney and judge, enough to seal Airic’s doom. The news wasn’t interested in capturing my perfect account, embellishing his attack. Their only interest was making me look like a mad fool. The Doval Ministry was at stake. I couldn’t lose the support of my following, everything I’d built over the last fifteen years—not because of one man. If you didn’t define yourself, someone else would. I’d learned that lesson a long time ago.