by Mz. Robinson
I had to pledge, and damn near give a sample of blood to get Damon out the house. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the way my hubby insisted upon being there for me, but I was craving some me time. I needed to process my thoughts and attempt to get a grip on my emotions without his constant desire to smother me with attention.
I sat curled up on the sofa in my family room scanning over the pages of the latest edition of Ebony magazine, when my home phone let off the distinctive ring indicating someone was at our gated entrance. I made my way to the kitchen to observe the monitors connected to our security system and I saw a skinny Caucasian male standing outside of a black delivery van. The van had the words, “Cowan’s Flowers” printed in bright pink lettering on the side.
Damon, I thought to myself.
“Hello,” I answered.
“I have a delivery for Mrs. Whitmore,” the man said.
“I’ll let you through,” I said.
Five minutes later I smiled brightly while looking at the bouquet of yellow roses and the gift basket that the man brought to my door. The flowers and the basket were from my employees. I sat the glass vase that contained the dozen long-stemmed roses on the console table against my foyer wall, then carried the large basket into the kitchen. I stood at my kitchen island ripping open the clear plastic cellophane like a child on Christmas morning. Granted, I’ve received gifts and little tokens of love on a regular basis from Damon, but I always got excited from any gift I received. The last gift I was given from someone outside of my husband was when Damon’s now deceased half-brother, Kelly, gave me the tiny angel that sits on the corner of my desk at the Ambiance. The hand-crafted angel was created in the image of my daughter. Even after Kelly’s death and his participation in Gator’s plot to kill my husband, I still couldn’t bring myself to get rid of the little porcelain token. It wasn’t because of Kelly or any unresolved feelings, but more so because it was truly a thoughtful gift despite the intentions of the man behind it.
Inside the basket was a plain handwritten note with Tabitha’s signature. The message was simple but sweet: “Relax and feel better soon.” Inside there was a variety of herbal tea leaves, including my favorite; green-mango peach. There was also fresh honey, shortbread cookies, and a pretty pink china teacup and matching saucer. I smiled from the thoughtfulness of my employee as I picked up my cordless phone and dialed Tabitha’s number.
“Hey Octavia,” she answered happily. “How are you?”
“I’m well,” I said. I balanced the phone on my shoulder while preparing the water to steep my tea. “I just got your gift. Thank you, that was really sweet of you.”
“No problem,” she said. “It’s my pleasure. Every one chipped in. Kaitlyn put the basket together.”
“Well, tell everyone I said thank you for me.” I said. “Let Kaitlyn know she did a great job with the basket.”
“I certainly will,” she said. “Make sure you enjoy and relax!”
“I will. I’m in the process of making me a cup of the green-peach mango now,” I advised her. “And the good thing is, I will have it all to myself. Damon hates any and all forms of green tea.” I laughed lightly.
“I remember,” Tabitha said, from the other end of the phone. “You told me.”
I hadn’t realized how many little details about myself and my family I had shared with Tabitha over the years. It was clear there had been several and she had been paying attention.
“You know more about me than I realized,” I said.
“When you have someone you look up to or you consider family, you pay attention,” Tabitha said. “To me it’s kinda how you tell them thank you and let them know you appreciate them.”
There was a sound in her voice that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I could hear her admiration, but there was something more there; something that I had clearly been missing.
“I can understand that,” I said, sincerely.
“Can you?”
“Yes, I really can,” I stated.
“Good,” she said firmly. “Well boss, you know I love you, but duty calls.”
“Get back to work,” I said smiling. “Call me if you need me and thank you again.”
“I got it,” she said, confidently “Talk to you later.”
I finished preparing my tea, grabbed my magazine and headed out to my patio to enjoy the sunshine. I settled in against one of the two matching chaise lounges Damon and I had sitting by our pool; then reclined, stretching my legs out in front of me. The smooth, tangy, tart taste of my beverage warmed my throat as I sipped slowly from my cup.
I admired the view of the vibrant green grass that made up my lawn as memories of the day Damon and I took our first set of vows, carried me down the beautiful streets of “memory lane.” I could see the small crowd of family and friends watching with smiles of joy planted on their faces. The harmonious sounds of the six-piece orchestra playing as Damon stood waiting for me; looking like nothing less than a king. I took another sip from the cup as my own smile grew from anticipation. Looking down over my body, I could see the spaghetti-strapped Vera Wang gown my mother-in-law purchased for me. I could feel my baby bump and the light flutters of my then unborn daughter Jasmine, moving and kicking inside of me.
“Are you ready?” Daddy asked, smiling at me. He stood beside me wearing a dark, designer tuxedo. His honey-brown eyes shining brightly as he looked at me.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said. I stood allowing the hem and train of my gown to fall freely around my ankles, covering the designer shoes Ilene had purchased for me. I reached for my father’s arm then realized he was no longer there; instead there was Beau. He stood smiling at me, wearing sagging jeans with a matching denim shirt, and wheat colored Timberlands. His dark skin was smooth and flawless, but his eyes were clouded and glazed by the faint color of red. He ran his hands over his neat corn rows while holding a tightly rolled blunt in between his fingers. He raised the lit El to his lips then took a long drag before blowing smoke out his mouth.
“What’s up Ma?” He asked, gazing at me.
“No,” I said, taking a step back. I closed my eyes wishing the vision before me would go away. “It’s not real. It’s not real.” I repeated aloud. I opened my eyes and he was gone along with my gown, wedding guests, Damon, and the orchestra. I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to make sense of what was happening, reminding myself of where I was.
“Sis!” I heard the sweet voice I missed so much, calling me.
“Shontay?” I asked, scanning my eyes from one corner of the property to the other.
“In here Octavia...” she called out to me. I zoomed in on the guesthouse. The heart-warming sound of my best friend’s laugh was enticing me.
“Shontay,” I said, walking around the pool towards the guest house.
“In here Tavia,” she sung. I stepped along the grass, walking quickly in the direction of Shontay’s voice. I stepped up onto the landing of the guesthouse as Shontay’s voice continued to call me.
“In here sis,” she said. My heart began to race as I turned the handle to the guesthouse then slowly pushed open the door. Shontay stood in the middle of the room, wearing fitted jeans and the purple off the shoulder sweater that I had given her nearly eight years before for her birthday. Her hair was blown out in a full afro, reminiscent of the style Pam Greer wore in for the role of Foxy Brown. She smiled at me, then shook her head.
“Tay?” I asked. There was something in the dark crevices of my mind reminding me that what I was seeing wasn’t real. That my friend, whom I called my sister, could not be standing before me, because I had witnessed her in her final moments of life. I had watched as she crossed the bridge of life into the dreaded waters of death. However, the love and the longing inside of me that needed one more day, one more hour, minute, or even second with her wanted what I thought I was seeing to be true. Shontay opened her arms wide, inviting me to embrace her. I moved quickly to where she stood as tears trickled like water from a le
aky faucet down my face.”
“I missed you…” I said softly, “so much...” I reached for her, but captured nothing but air. “Noo!” I cried, looking around the room frantically. She was gone. “Shontay! Shontay!” I cried. My voice echoed in my ears as I scanned the room with my eyes. I dropped to the floor, allowing my sorrow to overflow through my tears. The sounds of my cries echoed, resounding like the clashing of snare drums. I stayed on the floor kneeling like a sinner before a Holy alter, seeking redemption and relief from the thoughts plaguing me. The sounds of my sobs slowly began to dissipate as moans of pleasure and ecstasy filled the air around me. I raised my head while slowly rising to my feet. The moans were mine, and they were coming from the bed. I lay spread eagle across the silky comforter with someone kneeling in between my open legs. I slowly pulled my feet in closer to the X-rated scene my imagination had brought before me. I knew all too well of the chocolate complexioned man who held my thighs in his clutches and his face buried in between my lower lips. It was Kelly.
“Mmm…yessss…yessss!”
“Stop it!” I yelled at myself. “Stop it now!”
I ran out the door of the guesthouse, tracking quickly through the grass to my home. I slammed the French doors shut behind me, then locked the door. My skin felt oily and rigid from the sweat and goose bumps that hovered over my skin. The sounds of Beau’s, Shontay’s and Kelly’s voices comingled in the space around me. They were pushing me closer and closer to the edge of madness, and I couldn’t bear to hear them any longer. I paced back and forth across the kitchen floor as the voices began to fade. The soft sounds of a baby crying caused me stop my pacing. The child’s lungs were strong and the cry was like a siren indicating danger.
Thoughts of guilt and shame played in my head from my lack of concern when I viewed my deceased son. I felt a wave rising inside of me with every second. I struggled to hold on to my inner peace in an attempt to salvage a portion of my sanity. However, the tragic memories of the child I lost pounded over and over again inside my head—bouncing from wall to wall—causing it to ache unbearably. I needed instant relief, the kind that no amount of Ibuprofen or aspirin could provide, and I needed it now. I was tired of loss after loss. Sick of death. So, I let go; allowing the destructive emotional tide of pain and sorrow to carry me out to the icy, dark sea of grief.
I marched to my kitchen cabinet where Damon and I stored our spirits; retrieving an un-open bottle of Rosa. I sat the bottle on the counter, then dug deeper inside the cabinet until I found a bottle of Ciroc. I quickly opened the bottle, wasting no time on getting a glass and turned the bottle up to my lips, allowing the liquid to burn the inside of my chest. I took another shot, followed by another, and one more until I heard the cries no more.
I walked out the kitchen through the foyer of my home and finally up the stairs leading to my bedroom. I stop my strides and stood, gripping my pain reliever in one hand, staring at the closed door leading to what should have been my son’s nursery. I opened the door, observing the bright yellow décor. I took another shot, this time feeling nothing but disgust and anguish. The room was too bright; brightness represented happiness and joy. There was nothing joyous about the things surrounding me. I took another gulp from the bottle then hurried back downstairs and out the door to our detached garage. I dug through Damon’s tool box and pulled items from the shelves that I knew could complete the job I felt awaited me inside the nursery.
Chapter 10
Damon
I dialed my home phone number again and got the same result I had been receiving for the last thirty minutes. The phone rang and rang until the voicemail picked up. I had already tried Octavia’s cellphone several times, but much like when I called our landline, I got her voicemail.
Maybe she’s sleeping, I thought to myself.
I had spoken with my wife earlier in the day, but I once again wanted to be sure she was still feeing alright. When I was unable to reach her again, I decided to check with Charles and Charlene. I called my in-laws making light conversation while nonchalantly checking to see if they had spoken to their daughter. I knew instantly from their questions that they had not. I ended the conversation with them, then stood, preparing to leave my office and go home, when Louisa buzzed me to let me know I had a visitor. A moment later, Tamara walked through my office door. She wore a fitted above the knee wrapped dress. I had forgotten all about the text she had sent me that morning asking if the two of us could sit down for a meeting. Naturally my focus and thoughts had been on my family.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” she asked, observing my expression.
“Um, no,” I lied. “I was just going to make a quick run.” I could see the instant disappointment in her face.
“I can come back,” she said. I contemplated her offer, then decided maybe it was best if I didn’t rush home. I was worried about my wife, but at the same time I didn’t want to antagonize her further. I decided to keep the commitment I made to Tamara.
“No need,” I said. “It can wait. Please sit down.” I resumed my position back behind my desk as Tamara sat down in the chair on the other side. “So, what’s up?”
“I need a job or hobby,” she said bluntly. “Something to keep me busy.” I remembered when Jasmine and I bumped into Tamara at Grille 29 that she stated a lot of things had changed with her in the past year, but I didn’t remember her stating that closing her business was one of them.
“What happened to your interior design company?” I asked curiously.
“The interior design company belongs to Stan,” she said.
“Your husband,” I said with raised eyebrows.
“My soon to be ex-husband,” she enlightened me.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said sincerely.
“Don’t be,” Tamara said. “Things have been bad for a while now. I just finally got tired of fighting a losing battle and decided enough was enough.” She looked at me then frowned. “Besides, life is too short to be unhappy. I think we both know that.” I knew she was referring to her brother.
“I agree,” I said.
“So, that’s why I’m here,” she said. “I figured a new city and a new start.”
“How are you financially?” I asked.
“Financially, I’m good,” she smiled. “Savoy made sure of that. He left enough money for me, mama, and my sisters to eat and eat well. My desire to work is just that…a desire.”
“So why not launch your own business here?” I questioned. “The city is growing with every passing moment. Now would be an excellent time for a start up.”
Tamara looked like she was considering my suggestion. “I’m not sure if here is where I want to be permanently,” she said, crossing her legs. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m digging it so far, but you never know where the winds of chance may blow.”
I knew what Tamara meant, but wasn’t saying, was that she didn’t want to get too comfortable because despite what she stated about her marriage to Stan, she was still open to the possibility of the two of them getting back together.
“Right now I have a full staff,” I advised her.
“D, I’m family,” she said. “There’s always room for family.”
“Not for family who knows nothing about investment or money management,” I said, shaking my head. “I have not forgotten that at one point in time your piggy bank was overdrawn.” I laughed while remembering the stories Savoy told me about Tamara’s poor money management skills. It wasn’t that she didn’t have the money to cover her bills, she just chose not to pay them and when she did it was after she had tons of fees and penalties.
“You got jokes,” she said sarcastically. “That was many moons ago. I haven’t bounced a check in like eight months.” She smacked her lips. “Maybe nine.” I stared at her in disbelief.
“There is no way in hell I’m letting you near my clients or their money,” I said relaxing in my chair.
“I’m playing D!” she laughed. “I’ve been on my shit for r
eal.”
“I’m not falling for it,” I said. “In fact the two of us should sit down and look at how you’re managing. Seriously.”
“Okay,” she giggled. “You sound just like Savoy.”
“He knew!”
“I’m not admitting that,” she said. “But I will say I’ve heard more than twice that I could use a class or two in finance.”
“Hmm..humm,” I said. “You’ve heard it because it’s true.”
“Whatever, “she said. “Just pencil me in for your next appointment. I’ll be ready.”
I wrapped up my meeting with Tamara, agreeing to meet with her the next day. She inquired about the three of us, meaning me, her, and Octavia getting together for dinner. I told her I would mention it, but I knew the chances were slim to none of that happening. Last night when I told Octavia I bumped into Tamara, she was fine with me keeping in touch with her. She understood the family connection and that Savoy would have done the same for me, but she was quite clear that she had no interest in being friends with Tamara or any of her sisters.
I walked Tamara out, then continued with the paperwork I had put on hold while trying to contact Octavia. An hour later, I was interrupted by Louisa paging me through the speaker on my phone.
“Damon the daycare is on line one,” Louisa announced.
“Thank you,” I said. “This is Damon.” I answered the call waiting for me.
“Mr. Whitmore, it’s Sherry the director at Providence Day Care.”
“Hi Sherry, what can I do for you?” I asked, curious as to why the woman was calling me.