Never Again Once More

by Morrison, Mary B.

  Simone stumped down each step. Wellington escorted her to her car and drove off in his Bentley. Parking in front of Mrs. Ruby’s house, Wellington lowered the volume on his radio and said, “Dial.”

  His automated female voice system responded, “Who?”

  Wellington responded, “Darius.”

  The system replied, “One moment please.”

  “Hello,” Darius answered.

  “Hey. I thought I’d call and check on you. How’re you doing, son?”

  “As well as could be expected. I’m headed to New York tomorrow to manage a site visit for the conference.”

  “You know burying yourself in work is not going to take away the pain. Hey, maybe we should take a trip. Just the two of us.” Perhaps if they were alone, Darius would confront and stop suppressing his true feelings, instead of staying mad at everyone. The last time they traveled together, Darius had been seventeen.

  “Thanks, but no. I can handle this. Really.”

  “I know you’re still upset, but think about seeing your brother while you’re in New York.” Having two older brothers could be good for Darius if he’d get to know them.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “You the man.” After Jada’s confession, Wellington clearly understood why she’d prematurely promoted Darius. “I’ll check on you tomorrow. Bye, son. I love you.”

  “Yeah, I know. I love you, too. I’ll catch you later, old man.” Darius paused, then said, “Hey.”

  “I’m listening,” Wellington responded.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Wellington said.

  “Bye.” Darius hung up the phone.

  Going up to the house, Wellington rang the bell three times and waited about sixty seconds. When he released his phone from his waist holder, Jada opened the door.

  “Come on in,” she said, walking away.

  Wellington followed her. “You ready?”

  “If you are,” Jada responded. “Let me get my purse.”

  “Whoa. You know I have to ask. What’s up with all the gray?” Jada was dressed in all gray: boots, denims, and a waist-high sweater with no bra. “You hate that color, but, ba, it looks great on you,” Wellington said.

  “It’s my mourning color. I didn’t want to wear black, and since I hate that my mother’s gone, this was the best color to coincide with my feelings.”

  Women made the simplest things complicated. “So have you eaten at Cioppino’s?”

  “No,” Jada said, without exhibiting any curiosity.

  Despite the fact that Melanie had introduced him to the place, Cioppino’s had become one of Wellington’s preferred Italian restaurants. Wellington drove to San Francisco and parked at the Mission and Fifth Street garage. Sunshine and crisp breezes greeted them.

  “We can take the Powell and Hyde Streets trolley from Market Street. Hopefully, Saturday lunchtime isn’t too busy. Besides, it’s a beautiful day,” Wellington said. By taking the trolley, he could avoid Pier 39, because they had shared too many memories there. Most of them good, but it was also the place where they had last dined prior to breaking up.

  When they reached the San Francisco Maritime National Historic Park at Beach and Hyde, a tall black man dressed in a brown uniform announced, “Okay, folks this is the end of the line. Everyone must get off. My trolley, that is.”

  Wellington laughed, but most of the tourists didn’t. They started snapping pictures of the driver as he pulled the cord sounding the bell. Jada had been quiet since they had left the house. Wellington glanced around. What were the odds they would run into Melanie? He jumped off the car and helped Jada.

  Walking downhill toward Jefferson Street, Wellington asked, “How’s Lawrence?”

  “Huh. What? Oh, he’s fine. Working, I guess,” Jada said.

  Okay, no more Lawrence questions. They crossed the street, turned right, and as they walked another block, Wellington put his arm around Jada’s waist. “What do I have to do to perk you up?”

  “Bring back my mother. Make up for the twenty years Darius didn’t know Darryl. I really don’t want to eat. My stomach hurts,” Jada said, folding her arms under her sweater.

  “But you need to eat something, so let’s go inside.”

  “Why do you keep looking around? Are you expecting someone?” Jada asked.

  “Of course not, ba.” Damn, was he that obvious? He’d better stop being paranoid. Why had he brought her to Melanie’s place anyway?

  “Table for two?” the young Italian girl asked.

  “Can we sit outside?” Jada asked.

  Before Wellington could protest, the hostess grabbed two menus, a wine list, and said, “Sure.”

  Wellington pulled out the black wrought-iron chair and pushed it under Jada. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” He dashed across the street and paid the artist to paint a portrait of them dining. Then he slipped into Cartoon World and purchased a small stuffed Tweetie Bird and raced back to their table.

  As their waiter approached, Wellington placed the Looney Tunes bag on the yellow cement plant holder next to their table.

  “May I take your drink orders?”

  Looking at her nametag, Wellington asked, “Suzie, is Danté bartending?”

  “As a matter of fact, he is.” Suzie smiled.

  “Then, we’ll have two Danté specials.” Jada needed to loosen up a bit. Danté’s potent mix reminded Wellington of Pat O’Brien’s hurricanes in the New Orleans French Quarters.

  “Certainly. I’ll be back to take your orders in a minute.” Suzie checked on the table by the door, then went inside.

  “Ba, stay another week. Darius can handle the office.” One more week away from her office wouldn’t hurt. Wellington wanted Jada to never leave, but seven extra days would be nice.

  “I’ll think about it. That’s the only thing he’ll talk to me about is business.” The left side of Jada’s mouth twitched. Her cellular phone rang. She flipped it open, looked at the ID, closed it, and put it back in her purse.

  “I spoke with Darius a few moments ago. He’ll be fine. He has to digest what’s happening.”

  “Yeah, and then figure out how he’s going to dominate the situation,” Jada commented.

  Toot. Toot.

  Wellington hurriedly twisted his head, then grabbed his neck as he shifted in his chair. A car rolled up so close to the curb he could almost shake hands with the passenger without moving from his table.

  “Hey! How are you guys doing?”

  Whew! His chest rose and fell as he wiped his forehead. “Hey, Wendy. Where’s Walter?” Wellington said, trying to play it cool. Walter was still his best friend, and Wendy was still happily married to that square brother.

  “At work. Hi, Jada. You’re looking good, girl. See you guys later.” Wendy waved as they drove away.

  “Are you sure you’re not expecting someone?” Jada asked.

  “Positive.” So what if Melanie showed up. He no longer cared. Wellington took a deep breath and relaxed.

  Danté walked outside carrying their drinks with a huge grin. “My man. What’s up? Haven’t seen you in a while. You look great as always. If you need a refill, let me know. And tell my girl Melanie I said hello.”

  Jada’s eyes were focused on the silverware until Danté mentioned that name.

  “Since you’ve bared your soul, how about I do the same? That way we can both either feel like shit or be relieved.”

  Jada’s hazel eyes looked up at Wellington. “I’m listening.”

  “The reason you haven’t met Junior is because Simone doesn’t want him around you.” Wellington weaved the white linen napkin between his fingers.

  Jada sucked in air. “What! Why didn’t you tell me this? Why not?”

  “I just didn’t think you’d understand.” Wellington shook his head. “Plus, I was trying to establish my own position. But I’ve decided you can meet him whenever you’d like. I can bring him by before you leave.”

  Suzie wa
lked up. “Ready to order?”

  “We’ll both have calamari salads on baby greens. The lady would like the grilled salmon filet. Are they really caught locally?” Wellington was making small talk to delay his confession.

  “They sure are.” Suzie smiled. “What else would you like?”

  “I’ll have the whole Dungeness crab with homemade pasta.” Wellington motioned for Suzie to come closer and whispered in her ear. “I slipped Danté a small paper bag. Take the item, cover it in a pile of chocolate mousse, and bring it to us for dessert.”

  Suzie smiled and walked away, then soon returned with their salads.

  “Is there anything else you didn’t think I’d understand?” Jada asked.

  “Yes, Melanie and I have managed to remain friends over the years. That’s why I was looking around, because sometimes we eat here. And,” he paused, “the triplets she was carrying weren’t mine.”

  “I don’t believe this.” Jada picked at her calamari. “And what about your divorce?”

  Hunching his shoulders, Wellington responded, “What about it?”

  “Why does she refer to herself as your wife?” The fork poked in and out of her baby greens.

  “Oh, don’t pay any attention to Melanie. You know how she is.”

  “I don’t believe you! How could you not tell me after all this time?” Jada said, pushing away from the table.

  “How could I what? Lie for twenty years and expect everyone to pardon me?” Wellington stared at Jada. She couldn’t seriously be mad at him.

  “That’s a cheap shot, but you’re right.” Jada reposition her chair. “I’m going back to L.A. next week. I have some unfinished business I need to take care of.”

  “That’s a good idea.” Go. He’d expected her to say that because she always ran away from her personal problems. Maybe she’d feel guilty and let him taste her tonight.

  When Suzie brought their orders, Wellington fed Jada from his plate and ate off of hers.

  Jada dipped Wellington’s finger into the butter and sucked it off. The tightening of her jaws rushed familiar memories to both of his heads. Wellington shivered and noticed Jada’s nipples were protruding. His penis responded in kind. “Damn, Lawrence is a lucky man.” His heart rate quickened, remembering how The Ruler clamped perfectly between her breasts and measured the distance deep inside Jada’s throat.

  “I have a question I’ll probably regret asking,” Jada said.

  “Then, don’t ask.” Wellington dipped Jada’s finger in the sauce again and opened his mouth.

  Jada spread the butter on his nose. “Did you and Melanie ever have—”

  Wiping his face with his napkin, Wellington said, “A threesome with someone else?”

  Jada nodded.

  “You’re right. You don’t want to know.” Wellington continued eating his crab.

  “Do you think that’s where we went wrong?” Jada asked.

  “I thought about that for years. And my answer was consistently no. This is the best crab.” Wellington took a lump of meat and fed Jada.

  “Then”—Jada paused so she could chew—“what do you think?”

  “To me there were a number of reasons: lack of trust, friendship, love. Those are the things we didn’t have then, but we have them now, with the exception of trust.”

  “You don’t trust me?” Jada frowned.

  “I’ll take the fifth. But I will say that’s why you never came back to me. Your lack of trust and honesty made you insecure, and true love and friendship can’t survive the test of time without honesty and trust.”

  “You’re right. I do still love you,” Jada said.

  “But it’s conditional.” Wellington hunched his shoulders.

  “It was, but it’s not anymore. I realize tomorrow isn’t promised. Hearing the news about Aaliyah convinced me I may not see the sun set. I want to die, with no regrets. Death has a way of clearing out the fog so you can see the road ahead. I might not make it to the horizon. That’s about as far as I can see with my naked eye. But the third eye sees all. I’m trying to live my life through my third eye.” Tears trickled down Jada’s face.

  “So what are you saying?” Wellington intensely stared at Jada.

  “We shouldn’t leave this world with any uncertainties. From now on, when I make a mistake, I want to make it based on love and honesty. I want to know in my heart I felt I was doing the right thing. Regardless of the outcome. I know what I did to Darius and you was wrong, but I’ve tried to correct my mistake.”

  “Good point. A lie can only be repaired when you confess the truth, and we all make mistakes,” Wellington said as he reached across the table and wiped away her tears.

  “Can we start all over again?” Jada asked.

  “No. Unfortunately, we can’t,” Wellington responded. “But we can move forward from this point in love, with honesty, trust, and friendship. I offer you all those things. Starting right here. Right now.” Wellington signaled for Suzie to bring dessert.

  Suzie walked up to the table, holding a covered silver platter.

  “Jada Diamond Tanner—”

  “Wellington, you are so crazy.” Jada started to laugh and cry.

  “I want to know—”

  “Yes! The answer is yes!”

  Wellington smiled hard as the waiter lifted the top. A lump a chocolate mousse sat before them. Wellington took the platter and drew circles in the cream with his tongue. He scooped the cherry off of the top. “Um.” Then he dove full faced into the sweetness and retrieved a small bottle of chocolate-flavored cocoa butter lite oil with his teeth. He took Jada’s hand and released the bottle in her palm. “Would you please give me another table shower massage?”

  Jada roared with laughter, scooped the mousse from Wellington’s lips, and ate it. Then she stuck her right hand into the dessert and smeared Wellington’s face.

  “Finally, I made you laugh.” Wellington grinned as he sucked the remainder off her hand. Before he got to her ring finger, he positioned his tongue in a familiar crevice and French kissed her hand. Jada closed her eyes, and he moved on to the other fingers until he finished off the pinky.

  “Everything happens for a reason. Don’t ask, but this is my fifth year. Something major always happens to me every five years since we’ve separated,” Jada said.

  “Do what’s in your heart. I’m yours, if you want me,” Wellington responded.

  “For starters, I will stay another week,” Jada said.

  Wellington paid the tab and tipped Suzie and Danté. He handed Jada the yellow Tweetie Bird key chain, and they walked across the street. The painting of them dining at one of Cioppino’s sidewalk tables was one he’d frame and store, knowing one day the picture would hang above the fireplace in their home.

  Chapter 27

  Sunday morning Jada exited the plane to find Jazzmyne waiting. Instead of staying an extra week in Oakland like Wellington wanted—and she’d promised—Jada returned home to her husband. Consciously, she’d freed herself of one lie. Jada’s sense of urgency now lay ahead under her own roof.

  “Hey, thanks for picking me up.” Jada hugged Jazzmyne for almost two minutes.

  “No problem. How’re you feeling?” Jazzmyne stepped back and grasped Jada’s hands.

  “I don’t know. Some moments are better than others. Girl, with the airport security madness, I checked all four of my bags.”

  “Girl, I’ll get the car and meet you at United’s curbside check-in. Passenger arrival was bumper to bumper when I came.”

  “Okay,” Jada responded. She picked up a luggage cart in baggage claim, retrieved her bags, and rode the elevator to the upper level.

  As Jada stepped outside the automatic doors, Jazzmyne waved. “I’m over here.”

  Jada rolled her cart to the skycap booth and asked one of the workers, “Is CR working today?”

  “Yeah, he’s at the next station. Hey! CR! Someone’s looking for you!” the young guy shouted.

  “Hey, baby. How you doing
? I haven’t seen you in a while. Where’ve you been?” CR said as he gave Jada a hug.

  “My mom passed away. I just buried her.” A lump formed in Jada’s throat as she forced back her tears.

  “Oh, Jada. I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do, you know I’m here. Let me take your bags.” CR rolled the cart.

  “Thanks. Jazzmyne’s parked over there.” Jada pointed at the white new model Jaguar Jazzmyne was sporting.

  “Girl, I thought I was going to have to come over there and get you,” Jazzmyne said.

  CR placed the last suitcase in the car, closed the trunk, and said, “Bye, and don’t forget to call me if you need anything.”

  “Bye, CR.” Jada blew a kiss.

  “Yeah, bye, CR.” Jazzmyne waved and drove off.

  Pulling out her cell phone, Jada started to call Lawrence at work, then decided it would be better to surprise him when she got home. The last time she’d tried that was with Wellington, and she had been the one in for the surprise. Lawrence was different. Yes, he was a man, but he was respectful. That was exactly how Jada had to confront their situation.

  As Jazzmyne drove by Sycamore Avenue, Yamashiro’s restaurant popped into Jada’s mind. The number was already programmed for speed dial. “Yes, I’d like to make reservations for two at six.” Since she’d taken the two o’clock flight out of Oakland International, that would give her a full two hours to settle in and get dressed.

  “Sorry. No availability for six. Let’s see, can you come at seven?”

  “Sure. I’d like a window table overlooking the gazebo. Last name is Anderson.” Whenever Jada made accommodations for them, she used Lawrence’s surname. The Sunday afternoon traffic along Pacific Coast Highway was slow. The gazebo had been closed off for years, but one hardly noticed because the sloping hillside and ocean view were breathtaking.