Things Forbidden

by Maryam Diaab

  Things Forbidden

  Maryam Diaab

  Genesis Press, Inc.

  Indigo

  An imprint of Genesis Press, Inc.

  Publishing Company

  Genesis Press, Inc.

  P.O. Box 101

  Columbus, MS 39703

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, not known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission of the publisher, Genesis Press, Inc. For information write Genesis Press, Inc., P.O. Box 101, Columbus, MS 39703.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all incidents are pure invention.

  Copyright© 2008 Maryam Diaab

  ISBN-13: 978-1-58571-579-4

  ISBN-10: 1-58571-579-4

  Manufactured in the United States of America.

  First Edition.

  Visit us at www.genesis-press.com or call at 1-888-Indigo-1-4-0.

  Dedication

  To my husband Damon.

  My heart belongs to only you.

  Prologue

  A vision in white silk, I thought ruefully, studying my reflection in the full-length mirror. The hotel suite, elegantly decorated perfectly for the “happy” occasion, was itself a vision. Bouquets of Casablanca lilies and red roses covered nearly every surface; their scent perfumed the air. Someone had placed a small-framed photograph of me and my bridegroom, Dr. Terrence Hall, on the bedside table. We looked the perfect couple; our arms were wrapped around each other, our smiles relaxed, expectant, genuine. But that seemed like eons ago; so much had happened since the day we happily posed for that photo.

  “What am I doing?” I asked myself. “What am I doing?” I asked again, turning back to the mirror. The V-neck, spaghetti-strapped wedding gown cost more than my car, but seven months ago when I watched Terrence hand over his Visa to the sales clerk, I hadn’t thought about the cost. But then again, seven months ago marrying Terrence was all I thought about. I thought a ring would keep him at home, keep him from wandering. Now my mind was crowded with conflicting emotions, and uncertainty had become a constant, terrifying presence.

  “I really can’t get over how beautiful you look,” Wendy said, standing behind me and looking at my reflection in the mirror. “Like a princess, even more so than we dreamed, remember?” Our eyes met in the mirror, and I forced a slight smile. “What’s with the phony smile, Yvette? Aren’t you excited?”

  “Of course I’m excited,” I replied halfheartedly, lifting my gown and going over to the bed. “It’s just…just maybe everything is moving too fast. I wish everything would slow down.”

  “Slow down? You and Terrence have been together since college. Fifteen minutes before you’re supposed to say ‘I do’ isn’t the time to suddenly get cold feet.”

  “I’m not getting cold feet. I—”

  “A lot of women would kill to be in your shoes right now.” And with those few words, Wendy’s demeanor changed. In maybe ten seconds, she had gone from concerned, supportive friend to something else, something I didn’t recognize. Maybe she was one of those women who would kill to be standing in my shoes.

  “I know. I get it, but don’t forget Terrence and I have been through a lot. He’s not what everyone thinks he is,” I said, looking at Wendy with pleading eyes. Right now, I needed Wendy to be on my side; I needed her to show me that she was still my best friend. But since my return that seemed like more than Wendy could handle.

  “Yeah, well…” Wendy began, a hint of bitterness in her voice. She walked over to the mirror and dabbed at a bit of extra lipstick on her upper lip. “Let’s not pretend that you’re innocent in all this. You’ve done your share, too.”

  I held my head between my hands, inhaling deep before standing. It was painfully obvious that I couldn’t talk to Wendy; she had her own agenda, although I wasn’t quite sure what it was. “Okay, I’m fine, I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

  “That’s the spirit, Yvette!” Wendy said sarcastically, giving me a thumbs up. In return, I gave her the middle finger.

  Wendy handed me a bouquet of lilies tied with a red silk ribbon that matched her dress perfectly.

  I wrapped my fingers around the bouquet and immediately felt my eyes well with tears. Wendy’s expression softened.

  “I’m not trying to upset you,” Wendy said, hugging me stiffly. Her words were unconvincing but nonetheless comforted me. “I just think that you need to make a decision, because all this back and forth is—”

  “I know, and I made my decision,” I responded quickly, hoping to shut her up. “Thirty minutes from now, I will be Mrs. Terrence Hall, and then I’ll be able to put the last few months behind me,” I said with a conviction I didn’t feel.

  “Just take a deep breath, and as you walk down the aisle, think about the wonderful man you’re about to marry,” Wendy urged, her voice sounding slightly and unaccountably sad as we headed for the door.

  “You’re right, as usual.” I forced a laugh, following Wendy into the hallway. And then I came face-to-face with the memory that I had tried so desperately to suppress. All composure vanished as I looked into his eyes, and before I could retreat to the room and close myself off to him, Ajani stepped close, so close I could smell his cologne, so close I could practically taste him.

  “What are you doing here?” I whispered, panic filling every fiber of my body. A deep longing I thought I’d banished forever resurfaced and made me weak in the knees.

  “I—I needed to talk to you. I’ve been calling and calling but…” He stopped when he saw Wendy staring at us. Then he turned back to me.

  “I can’t do this, Ajani. I won’t do this, not here, not now,” I said adamantly, my eyes again filling with tears. I knew what he wanted, what he’d always wanted and I wasn’t prepared to give in to him. I looked away, unable to bear the look of love in his eyes. I looked to Wendy for support, but she was smirking, amused and a strange kind of satisfaction marring her pretty face.

  “Just give me ten minutes,” Ajani pleaded, moving closer to me. “That’s all the time I’ll need to say what I have to say. Afterward, if you still want me to leave, then I’ll go.”

  “Yvette, I think you should listen to him,” Wendy interrupted, inching further and further away. “Maybe you two should go back inside the suite. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

  Giving Wendy a tiny smile of gratitude, Ajani came all the way into the bridal suite, leaving me with no choice but to follow.

  “You look beautiful,” Ajani said, shutting the door.

  I lifted the hem of my gown and backed away. I was deeply, helplessly, conflicted. I wanted Ajani, needed him, but it wasn’t right. My relationship with him had already cost me so much. “I’m getting married, Ajani. You shouldn’t be here,” I told him, my voice shaking uncontrollably.

  “No, Yvette,” Ajani interrupted, his voice thick with anger and desperation. “You’re the one who shouldn’t be here. We both know that you don’t want to marry Terrence.” Ajani’s toffee-hued features were as perfect as I remembered. I envisaged running my hands along the contours of classic cheekbones, kissing his smooth neck…

  “That’s not true,” I said, shaking my head to stop fantasizing. “I’ve planned for this a long time; everyone is waiting.”

  “So what we had meant nothing to you?” Ajani spoke as if he were in physical pain. His normally clear eyes were b
loodshot; his voice sounded raspy and tired. He sat on the corner of the bed I’d slept in the night before. It seemed so familiar, so natural; it took me back to a time when I was truly happy.

  “That’s not what I’m saying, Ajani. What we had was special, and I’ll remember it for a very long time,” I whispered, unable to look away from him.

  “Be honest with me. You and I, were we some kind of experiment? Were you using me?” Ajani’s voice rose higher and became more desperate with every word. His heart was breaking.

  “Well, in the beginning I was out to get back at Terrence and have a good time, but then something changed,” I admitted reluctantly. “But I never hid the fact that I was getting married. I never once misled you.”

  “But you just said yourself that something changed. Our relationship wasn’t just about sex; you told me you loved me and I told you the same. I don’t play with that, Yvette; those feelings were real!”

  “You’re young, Ajani. Other women will come along and make you forget all about me.”

  “You’re missing the point, Yvette. I don’t want to forget. And I really wish that you would stop with all the May/December shit! Okay, so you’re thirty-four and I’m twenty-one. Yvette, age never mattered when we were together, so it shouldn’t matter now.”

  “Life is complicated. People depend on me to do the right thing, to be responsible. I plan to have a life here with Terrence, and I can’t throw all that away for a couple of months of good sex with someone barely out of high school.”

  “So you’re telling me to my face that you don’t love me?”

  Hot tears poured unchecked from my eyes. I loved Ajani; I couldn’t deny it. But sometimes love just isn’t enough.

  “I do love you, Ajani, but—”

  “Do you love him?” The confident, sexy, irresistible Ajani was taking charge again, refusing to give up.

  “I’ve built twelve years with Terrence. Twelve years is a long time,” I replied, desperate for him to understand.

  “I’m ready to build a life with you.” Ajani stood and walked towards me, his handsome face pained but determined. As he advanced, I knew I wanted Ajani to touch me, to kiss me, to take me back with him. But that wasn’t reality, wasn’t an option.

  “Ajani, you really don’t know what you’re saying,” I told him, shaking my head sternly as if I were talking to one of my students.

  “I’m not a little kid! I know what I want. Come back with me and let’s work this out, Yvette.”

  My heart screamed yes, but my head was on a more realistic plane. “I can’t, Ajani. Marrying Terrence is just something I have to do.” Before I could turn away, Ajani took me into his arms and planted his mouth on mine. My mind spun crazily as our tongues became one. I remembered the first time I’d seen him, remembered the way he had made my body feel every moment we were together. As the kiss deepened, Ajani’s hands began exploring places that he knew so well.

  “Don’t marry him,” Ajani whispered, his lips still pressed against mine. “Come with me. Let me take care of you.”

  A torrent of blinding tears poured forth as I tried unsuccessfully to pull away. “Ajani, please,” I begged as his mouth traveled down to my collarbone.

  “We’re not over, Yvette,” he breathed, his tongue on my tingling skin. “I love you.” Ajani held on tightly as if his entire future was at stake.

  “Yvette, Yvette, it’s time,” Wendy called through the closed door.

  My breathing heavy and erratic, I pushed Ajani away and looked at the closed door.

  “I know that you love me, Yvette. Don’t do this. Don’t fuck up your life because you’re too scared to follow your heart. Do what’s going to make you happy.”

  I looked into his eyes and withdrew my hand from his grasp. “I think it’s time for you to go.” My voice had become steady, sure.

  Ajani stood silently, watching the tears of utter confusion fall from my eyes. “I’m not leaving, Yvette,” Ajani told me after what seemed like an eternity. “I’m going downstairs to that ballroom, and I’m going to watch you make the biggest mistake of your life. I want to see it for myself.” And with that Ajani opened the door, thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and slowly walked past Wendy and out of my life.

  “Oh, look at your makeup,” Wendy said, hurrying into the suite and handing me a handkerchief. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine!” I responded harshly, but I wasn’t. My body shook and my heart beat hard and fast against my chest. I could still feel Ajani’s lips on mine and I could still feel the beat of his heart. “Ajani and I just had some unfinished business to attend to.”

  “Well, let me help you get your face together.” Wendy tossed her flowers onto the bed and dabbed at my running makeup.

  “No!” I said a little too loudly. “I mean, no, I’m okay. I need you to go downstairs and tell everyone that I’m on my way. I’ll compose myself and be down in a second,” I said, attempting to reassure my friend.

  “Are you sure?” Wendy asked skeptically.

  “Of course,” I said, squeezing her hand. “I’ll be about five minutes.” Wendy grabbed her bouquet and headed for the door, a bemused look on her face.

  Turning to the mirror, I took a hard look at myself. I could not believe what had just happened. “I can’t,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t.”

  Not wanting to waste another second, I frantically searched for my purse, finally locating it on the recliner in the corner. I was focused on getting to the elevator and out of the hotel without anyone noticing that I had become a runaway bride. My mind was cloudy, my thoughts scattered, and I was consumed by a sense of confusion and sadness unlike any I had ever known. Marrying Terrence was supposed to give me clarity, take me back to the things that were really important. I thought marriage would help me get my life back on track. But after seeing Ajani, all that I was clear on was that I had fucked up. Big time.

  When I finally reached the lobby, my entire bridal party—six of my closest friends, waiting in height order and wearing the red gowns it had taken me four months to choose, stood outside the ballroom entrance—but none of that mattered now. I didn’t know where I was going or how I was going to get there, but I did know that I couldn’t marry Terrence.

  “Yvette! Yvette! Where are you going?” someone shouted as I ran to the revolving door to freedom. “Yvette!”

  Hurrying footsteps clicked toward me as I slipped through the exit and into the blinding sunshine.

  “I’m on a break, ma’am,” the cab driver told me as I slid into the backseat of his car.

  “Please,” I pleaded, looking over my shoulder at my bridal party heading toward me in a collective state of panic. Wendy, however, stood on the sidelines, her smile so big it looked as if she’d just won the lottery. Putting aside my best friend’s baffling behavior for now, I turned back to the cab driver. “I’m supposed to be getting married right now, but I can’t. Do you see those people? If you don’t go—” I was shrill, hysterical, not recognizing my own voice.

  The cab driver turned in his seat to get a closer look at me in my wedding dress, and then he looked at the mob rushing toward us. “Where to?” he chuckled, starting his engine.

  With a sigh of relief, I leaned back against the cool leather and closed my eyes. “The airport.”

  Part 1

  Six Months Prenuptial

  Yvette

  1

  “Yvette? Yvette? Did you hear what Mr. Cochran just said?” an excited Mrs. King asked, poking me in the ribs with her red ink pen.

  “Since when have I listened to anything Mr. Cochran says in staff meetings?” I answered, not looking up from the mountain of papers I should have checked days ago.

  “Well, I really think you should listen to this.”

  Sighing, I reluctantly looked up from the writing assignment I’d just marked up in red ink. The entire faculty of Detroit Preparatory was looking at me. While some smiled encouragingly, others did not even try to hide their disgust
. Something big was happening, and I had just missed whatever it was.

  “Ms. Brooks, why don’t you stand up and tell us how you feel,” Principal Cochran suggested, laughing heartily.

  “How do I feel about what exactly?” I asked, feeling my face burning with embarrassment. I laughed nervously, hating that I had put myself into this situation, especially in front of my colleagues.

  “I just announced that the board has chosen you as the new assistant principal of Nashville Prep!” Mr. Cochran said, applauding enthusiastically and prompting others to follow suit.

  Still clueless, I sat staring at my fellow teachers. I racked my brain, hoping to remember when I had applied for a new position, let alone one at Nashville Prep. “What assistant principal position?” I asked stupidly.

  Mr. Cochran chuckled and looked amused. “The one you applied for a year ago. Remember the Monday morning you rushed into my office and asked to be relocated? The board said you were perfect for the position.” Mr. Cochran’s puffy pink features were lit up. He was obviously very proud of himself. “Everyone wish Ms. Brooks well on her appointment,” he urged, looking like a proud papa. A few of my colleagues murmured congratulations, while other muttered something indistinct. Was that a ‘fuck you’ I heard? It was difficult for me to tell, but it was something profane. “Now get out there and have a great weekend!”

  Looking at some of the unhappy faces in the cafeteria, I was almost certain that some of them had placed their names into the same administration-relocation pool and had been with the district longer than I had. It was like déjà vu. The exact same thing happened when I was promoted to lead teacher five years ago, just after my twenty-ninth birthday. Back then, some smartass on staff started a rumor that I’d gotten the job by providing early-morning head and a cup of Starbucks latte to Mr. Cochran on a daily basis. I wondered what the rumor would be this time.

  “Congratulations, girl!” Monique King said, pulling me into a warm bear hug. “I can’t believe that you applied for the position without telling me! That doctor you’re getting ready to marry must be the most supportive man in the world to let you go all the way down to Tennessee without him. Will he be relocating as well?”