by Nikki Rashan
“My reaction too.” She got excited, then quieted down again. “Well, Melanie thought Jovanna didn’t know about it, because Melanie never confessed about what happened. This morning we were talking, and surprise, surprise, Jovanna has known all along.”
“What? She told Melanie at breakfast? In front of you?”
“Not really. She said it indirectly while talking about you and me. She was really letting Melanie know that Ali had told her what happened after it happened. All this time Melanie’s been carrying the secret around, thinking Jovanna didn’t know.”
“Wow, that’s a big-ass secret. Now I know why everybody got so quiet. Damn, this has been a crazy weekend for everybody,” I acknowledged. “Emotional all around.”
“I’m glad they came,” Asia said. “Where do you think we’d be if they hadn’t?”
I didn’t even want to admit that had Asia not called, I would probably still be in Angie’s bed, confused and wondering what I had gotten myself into with her.
“You know, they helped me realize that it took courage for you to tell me about Angie. I couldn’t see beyond my own feelings to listen to what you had to say and how you were feeling.”
“I tried to be honest with you, with the hope that we could talk it through.” I shook my head. “Like I said, I just wish none of it happened.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“Let’s try to put all this behind us. They got their closure, and so do we.”
We kissed.
“Yes, we do,” I said.
Asia, Melanie, and Jovanna sat anxiously in the truck while I entered Angie’s apartment building. On the ride over we had discussed various “if, then” scenarios. If Angie wasn’t home, as she had promised, then I’d send Asia a text that said Clear. If Angie came home while I was inside, then I would text Asia, Subject has returned. If Angie attempted to talk me out of leaving, then I would text, Harassment. Asia would ask, Assistance needed? I would respond, Okay or Be on the lookout. Finally, if Angie tried to stop me physically from leaving, then I would text, Disturbance or Assault. My word choice was dependent on the severity of Angie’s demands. Asia would respond, Nine-one-one? If I could respond and didn’t need 911, I would text, Situation under control. If I responded Help, or didn’t respond at all, Asia would place the call to 911. The three of them would get out of the truck and await the officers’ arrival.
Inside Angie’s apartment it was dark, aside from the dim light in the kitchen. I checked the kitchen to make sure Angie wasn’t at the table. Next, I entered her bedroom. She wasn’t in bed. I checked the bathroom and the closet next, then looked in the second bedroom, where my luggage sat. Angie wasn’t there. Clear, I said to Asia via text.
Most of my clothes were still shoved in the suitcases and bags I had hurriedly taken from the house the day before. In the still of Angie’s apartment, I again acknowledged how swiftly the reconciliation with Asia had occurred. Had I again moved too fast, but in reverse? I wondered if I would have been as receptive to Asia if I hadn’t learned of Angie’s violent tendencies. Did I think of Angie as an abusive woman? Not really. But that was the problem with women. We tended to excuse the behavior someone exhibited toward someone else in the past, thinking it wouldn’t happen to us. Then it did.
I understood Angie’s attempt to equate her abuse with a cheating past. Maybe she was right. Maybe she would never hit me, just like she claimed she would never cheat on me. I wasn’t comfortable taking any chances.
I picked up my small travel case and gathered a few items I had left in the bathroom. Once I had zipped the case, I threw a duffel bag over my shoulder and grabbed a suitcase in each hand. It would take two trips to remove all my luggage. Asia popped open the trunk when I got outside, wobbling from the weight of the bags. She met me at the rear of the truck.
“I’ll arrange this,” she said and took one bag from me. “Go get the rest of your stuff.”
When I returned to the apartment, it was still quiet. I halted at the dining room table and used a pad of paper and a pen to write a note. What was I supposed to write? I decided I love Asia most. True, but it was too blunt. Can’t be with you. I think you might hit me. Again, true, but I didn’t want to say that, either. Finally, I put the pen to the paper.
Thank you for being so kind and opening your home to me. I appreciate all you have to offer in a relationship, but I decided to return to Asia. I hope someday you find the woman who completes you. Love always, Kyla. I tore the paper from the notepad and decided to leave it on the futon.
I rounded the corner and went into the second bedroom for my remaining bags, and there, atop one of the suitcases, sat Angie. She stared solemnly at the floor. Where did she come from? With my hand to my chest, I screamed.
“You scared me!” I yelled at her.
She stared blankly. “So this is it, huh?”
Her demeanor was sad. And odd.
“I thought you weren’t going to be here,” I stated.
“I had a feeling you were leaving. I decided I wanted to see you one more time.” She stood. My suitcase rocked.
I reached for my phone. Subject has returned!!!!!
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I had to send a message.”
“Right now? In the middle of our good-bye?” She was agitated and annoyed. Angie had never been angry with me. She looked at the paper in my hand. “What is that? A note? You were about to creep out of here and leave me a note? Don’t you think I deserve more respect than that?”
My phone beeped. It was Asia’s reply, and I needed to respond. I tried to read my phone, but Angie came close, pressed my arm to my side, and held it to my hip with one hand. She took the paper from me with her other hand, read it, then balled it up and threw it over her shoulder.
“Are you sure you want to leave me?” Her face was only a couple of inches from mine, her breath warm against my cheek. The warmth and her closeness no longer excited me the way they had weeks earlier. My phone beeped again.
“It’s best. I love Asia. She’s where I want to be.”
Her fingers gripped my arm tighter.
“Deidra left me because of you, and now you want to go and leave me?”
“What? What are you talking about? You said Deidra left because you were too controlling.” I recalled Angie’s explanation of their relationship collapse.
“I lied. She left because she knew I was still in love with you.”
What? “You shouldn’t have lied to me about that, Angie. You shouldn’t have been over at my house, in front of me and Asia, acting like your world was crumbling down because she left you.”
“I already told you I wasn’t in love with her anymore. I told you I have always loved you.”
“But you never said she left because of me. That’s wrong.”
“It is what it is,” she replied nonchalantly. “I knew you would have responded differently if you knew the real reason. I handled it the way I needed to in order to get you. And now you’re leaving, anyway. Ain’t that about a bitch?”
Another beep. I tried to free myself from Angie’s hold.
“I . . . really . . . have to get that.” I struggled some more, but she wouldn’t let go.
“Whoever that is can wait.” Angie frowned at me.
“No,” I protested. “It can’t.”
“Yes. It can,” she said firmly.
I became frightened. How had she been so gentle with me all these years and suddenly so aggressive?
“I don’t know what you want me to say. I already told you I didn’t know how you felt all this time, and I also told you I didn’t know how this would turn out between us. Now I do. You can’t be mad at me for choosing Asia.”
“Well, damn it, I am.” She let go of my body and put a fist to her chest and pounded against her heart. “How can you do this to me?” That same fist then aimed at my face. I ducked, and the punch landed on the mirror behind me. The glass cracked, then shattered, sending pointed, sharp pieces to ou
r feet.
No one—not my mother, my father, my sister, David, any friend or foe—had ever hit me. I was shocked and angered. “Did you just try to hit me?”
Angie grabbed her bleeding knuckles with her left hand. I pushed her away, and she stumbled backward, slipped on glass, and fell to the floor. So this is how it starts....
“Kyla, no,” she yelled. “I wasn’t trying to hit you.”
“That swing was pretty fucking close to my face,” I yelled, standing over her.
She denied my accusation. “I told you I’d never hit you. I hit the mirror because I’m mad. I’m hurt.”
“You hit the mirror on purpose? Who does shit like that?”
Angie stood quickly and cornered me.
“Get away from me,” I ordered. “Now I know I made the right decision. Move so I can leave.”
Her bloody hand reached for me. I dodged her touch, and her bloody fingers swiped my sweater, leaving a red smear on the cable-knit pattern.
“Wait, wait.” Angie winced and tried to talk through her pain. “This wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” Her tone softened.
“Too late. It has. Glad I got to see it now.”
“This isn’t me, Kyla. You’ve got to know that. You’ve never been so upset, you kicked, hit, or threw something? Something to get your anger out?” She tried to plead her case softly.
“Maybe. But never another person. And I never would, especially not somebody I claim to love.”
“I do love you, Kyla. I’ve been trying to show you that.”
“I might consider responding to that if I hadn’t seen your fight this morning. And now this? You’ve shown me who you really are.”
“You’re going to let today overshadow all these years? Let it ruin all the good times we’ve had?” She was mad again.
“Yes. None of that matters now,” I told her.
“Kyla.” She said my name, nothing more.
I grabbed my bags and studied her bleeding hand. “Humph. What would your father say?” I scoffed.
“You better leave my father out of this,” she snapped and grabbed a tight hold of my arm, the same way she had held on to Deidra that morning.
I freed myself somehow, turned around, and ran through the apartment, into the hallway, and toward the elevator. A man had just stepped inside it, and he held the door for me. Angie followed me out of the apartment, but she slowed down when she saw the man. She reached the elevator just as the door closed in her face.
Thirty-two
Asia
Kyla ran out of Angie’s building, distraught and angry, just as the squad car arrived. She rushed toward me, Melanie, and Jovanna, and her eyes bulged when she noticed the officers who had gotten out of their vehicle, each with a hand at their waist.
“What happened?” I asked anxiously when I noticed the bloodstain on her sweater. I studied her face for bruising.
“What’s going on here?” asked one of the officers, a gentleman with red hair sprouting from under his tight cap. His partner, a black woman, walked at his side.
Melanie spoke. “Melanie Benson. This is Kyla Thomas.” She gestured toward Kyla. “She came to retrieve her belongings from a friend’s apartment. We became concerned by the length of time it was taking her and called nine-one-one.”
“Where’s the disturbance?” he asked, irritated.
Angie burst through the front door with a washcloth wrapped around her busted, bloody hand. She stopped when she saw the officers.
“The friend?” The male officer nodded toward Angie.
“Yes,” Melanie answered for me.
“Ma’am, this way,” the officer instructed, his voice increasingly aggravated. He waved his fingers for Angie to approach us. She did so slowly.
Angie’s expression dimmed, becoming innocent, relaxed, and her hesitant walk was the only sign that she was concerned.
“Shit,” the female officer muttered, but we all heard. She and Angie exchanged glances. The officer shook her head from side to side, as if to say, “Don’t say anything.”
“These ladies indicate that there was a disturbance in your place involving this woman here,” said the male officer. He pointed to Kyla and then spied Angie’s hand. “Care to explain?”
Everyone stared at Angie. She held her hand up and inspected it, as if she was noticing the wound for the first time. Her eyes went to Kyla. She pleaded through mildly angry eyes. Just as Angie was about to speak, Kyla offered her side of the story.
“I was staying with my friend Angie for a few days, and I came to get my things. Angie was trying to help me with my luggage, and it was so heavy that she hurt herself with it,” she lied.
Mr. Officer sighed. Melanie groaned. I held my breath to stifle the curse words ready to fly out. Why would she defend Angie?
“The luggage was so heavy that she’s bleeding, huh? That’s what you’re saying?” The male officer asked, trying to call Kyla’s bluff.
“Yes. She, uh, she picked it up and fell forward. Hit her hand,” Kyla replied.
No one said anything.
“I had a lot of things in the suitcase,” Kyla added softly, unconvincingly, and unbelievably.
Mr. Officer tapped his partner’s shoulder, and they turned around for a private conversation.
“What was that about?” I mouthed to Kyla.
Melanie held up a hand to me to hold off conversing until the officers left. I tried to catch Angie’s attention, but her eyes were focused on the female officer. Finally, they turned back around.
“Ma’am,” he said, addressing Angie, “what your friend says here is correct?”
Angie met the female officer’s eyes. She gave a gentle nod. “Yes. That’s correct.”
Mr. Officer studied Angie’s hand one more time. Then the blood on Kyla’s sweater. Then he glanced at my face, Jovanna’s, and Melanie’s. Everyone was silent and tense.
“You three.” He pointed to me, Melanie, and Jovanna. “We appreciate your concern for your friend, but next time, make sure there’s a disturbance before you call nine-one-one, got it?”
“Yes, sir, we understand. Thank you for your time,” Melanie answered on our behalf.
Mr. Officer tipped his hat to us and headed back to the squad car. The female officer stayed in her place. She peeked over her shoulder once her partner got into the driver’s seat and then turned back to Angie.
“What the hell happened, Angie?” she asked. “I was hoping this wasn’t a call for you that we were answering.”
“Yes, Angie, what the fuck did you do to Kyla?” I demanded.
“Hold on, miss,” the officer said. She held up a hand to me. “Angie? What’s up? ’Cause we know that’s a bullshit story she just told for you.”
“It’s nothing. Kyla’s moving out, and we . . . you know . . . I’m not happy about it. I didn’t hurt her, if that’s what you’re thinking. If that’s what anybody is thinking.” She looked around, glancing at me last. “I wouldn’t hurt her.”
“It’s your lucky day. Good thing my partner trusts me, and good thing Kyla lied for you. You know better than to be getting your ass arrested. We’ve had this conversation before,” the officer warned.
“Who are you?” I quizzed, irritated. I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“I’m somebody who’s been knowing Angie for years,” she answered, her eyes cold and unwelcoming. “Long enough to know exactly who you are and who she is.” She eyed Kyla from head to toe and nodded appreciatively. “I understand. But leave it be, Angie. Kyla, get your things in the car,” she instructed.
Melanie and Jovanna helped Kyla with the luggage, and they got inside the car. Mrs. Officer stood between me and Angie.
“I bet you two have some things you’d like to say to each other, but it’s not going to happen. Not now. Not at all,” she said in Angie’s direction. “Miss, get Kyla home. Angie, I’ll follow up with you after my shift.”
We remained standing in a triangle. I wanted to make it clear to An
gie that she was to avoid Kyla and to leave her alone.
“Don’t contact her again,” I told Angie, ignoring the officer’s instructions.
“Miss,” the officer interrupted.
“What? Shouldn’t we get this out with you right here?”
“If you don’t want my partner to come back and arrest somebody, anybody, this better get wrapped up right now, hear me?”
“Treat her right,” Angie advised me.
I snorted. “Kiss the crack of my fuckin’ ass.”
“Miss!”
Melanie got out of the truck again.
“Get your friend,” the officer told Melanie.
“I’m done. This is done. Thanks for your help, miss.” I squinted at the officer.
She dismissed me with a shake of her head and led Angie toward the front door. We waited until Angie was inside the building and the officer was in the squad car with her partner. They followed us and made a turn in the opposite direction once I was heading to the expressway ramp. Kyla was replaying the events in the apartment.
“I can’t believe she tried to hit you,” Jovanna said.
“Claims she wasn’t aiming at me,” Kyla told us.
“You don’t believe that, do you?” I looked over at Kyla. “You wouldn’t have had to duck if she wasn’t aiming at you. That’s bullshit. Why did you lie for her?”
“Because nothing really happened. Our whole evening would have been caught up in that, had I told the truth. Not worth the time.”
“That was a quick lie, Kyla, but a bad one,” Melanie joshed. “That was the best you could come up with?”
Kyla laughed. “They didn’t buy it, anyway. I’m just glad it’s over.” She reached for my free hand. “It’s really over.”
Her eyes softened. It was over, I agreed to myself. The first trial of our relationship had been more significant and severe than I could have imagined. But part two of our relationship was just about to begin. I squeezed her hand. Through the rearview mirror Melanie and Jovanna smiled at me. I smiled back and drove us home.
The Return