Forgive Me

by Stacy Campbell

  He answered her questions as best he could, but was dismayed that she remained on the plane when they stopped in Atlanta. After they took off for Augusta, however, he went to sleep. She followed him to the luggage carousel where they waited for their suitcases.

  “I did all that talking and didn’t tell you my name. I’m Barbara,” she said. She retrieved a hefty, floral bag from the carousel and rubbed James’s arm.

  The words of his mentor, Isaak Benford, came to mind. “Everyone is a potential customer, so treat the conversation as such.”

  “Good luck with your transition, Barbara. If I might make a suggestion, with a face as lovely as yours, you should do a big chop. Save yourself the agony of wrestling with relaxed and natural hair.”

  “You really think I can pull off a TWA?”

  “I’m positive you can rock a teeny-weeny afro,” James said.

  “I sure wish I could call you and get personal assistance with this transition,” Barbara said. She twirled her shiny braids around her fingers.

  “You don’t have to call me,” said James. He pulled a postcard from his shirt pocket and gave it to her. “This is our website devoted to natural hair. Log on and click on the tabs for information about the process as well as specifics about my natural hair care line. Should you have questions, call the number on the site and our hotline team can assist you.”

  “May I give you my number just because? You are so sexy!”

  “I’m strictly business these days, young lady,” said James. He hoisted his bag from the carousel.

  Barbara’s countenance drooped. She turned away and rolled her bag in the opposite direction. He watched the lovely young woman walk away as she added an extra twist to her stride.

  James marveled at his restraint. There was a time when Barbara would have been able to capture his attention and everything else. He eyed his watch and scanned the airport for Alamo signs. Shandy had sent him directions to the East Central Region Hospital, Aruba’s current location. He needed to rent the car and get to her as quickly as possible. After checking out at Alamo, he headed toward the hospital. Aruba and James frequented Augusta when they visited relatives and friends during their marriage, and he knew the city like the back of his hand. This time, the eight-minute drive to the hospital seemed like an eternity as Aruba’s face danced around in his thoughts. He wasn’t sure what to say to her or if she would speak to him. Lance used the term “checked out” to describe her. Lance also said for the first seventy-two hours, she couldn’t receive visitors.

  James pulled into a parking space, took a few short breaths, and walked toward the facility. He approached the receptionist’s desk. “I’m here to see Aruba Faulk,” said James.

  “What is your relationship to the patient?” asked the receptionist.

  With confidence, James answered, “I’m her husband.”

  “Mr. Faulk, she’s in room 184. She can’t have visitors yet, sir. You can join your in-laws and your son. They’re sitting in the lobby area down the hall.” As James walked away, the receptionist called to him, “Your son is adorable. I’m sorry he has to be here under these circumstances.”

  James shook off the Mr. Faulk insult and endorsed her concern with a nod. “So am I.”

  James headed down the hallway. He saw Darnella, Lance, Jeremiah, and Maxine, Aruba’s grandmother, sitting in hard chairs. Jeremiah noticed James and ran toward him.

  “Daddy!” Jeremiah screamed as he ran into James’s arms. His face lit up as he jumped into his father’s embrace.

  Darnella tossed Good Housekeeping back on the coffee table. “What are you doing here?” she shouted. Three other people in the lobby area turned their attention to the unfolding drama.

  “I’m here to see my son and Aruba,” said James.

  “Nobody invited you here, so you can go back to that skinny tramp you’re living with and leave us alone.” Darnella jumped from her seat and stood in James’s face. “You’ve done enough damage to her.”

  Lance pulled Darnella’s arm to quiet her. “I called him here. There’s no cause to make a scene. Let’s step outside to discuss this.” Lance turned to Maxine. “Watch Jeremiah while we go outside to talk.”

  Darnella folded her arms in defeat. She followed Lance and James outside to the parking lot. Lately, Lance had been going behind her back, disrespecting her wishes, and making things difficult between them. Doesn’t he care that our daughter almost died over all of the drama James caused? She would have never gone after her friend’s husband if he had been taking care of his family in the first place. Not to mention that nut he slept with and created a bastard. “Deadbeat,” said Darnella.

  “What did you say, Mrs. Stanton?” James asked.

  “I called you a deadbeat, and I didn’t stutter,” said Darnella.

  “Enough, Nella,” said Lance.

  The three of them found a bench outside the facility. Neither chose to sit.

  Lance turned to Darnella. “I’m not saying this more than once. You’ve kept this man away from his child long enough. You’re walking around here all self-righteous and you’re not considering Jeremiah.”

  “What’s there to consider? James hasn’t been—”

  Lance put his hand up to silence Darnella. Lance faced James. In his desire to make sure his grandson had a father figure, he didn’t want to appear to be against his wife. “Son, in Darnella’s defense, you haven’t reached out to Jeremiah. We know you’re busy with your businesses, but he needs you.”

  “With all due respect, Mr. Lance, I call my son every week. Whenever I call, Ms. Nella says he isn’t available or he’s across the street with Ms. Maxie.”

  They faced Darnella now.

  “Matter of fact, I send him a check every week, so the two of you don’t have to struggle to provide for him. I know you’re doing well in retirement, but I make sure to take care of him. I’m not the villain someone wants me to be,” James smirked.

  “Darnella, is this true?”

  Darnella shifted uncomfortably and held on to the bench. She pursed her lips and said, “So what! Look how long it took him to step up to the plate and handle his business. I’m supposed to let my guard down again and let him hurt Aruba?”

  Lance sat now, baffled by his wife’s selfishness. He had no idea James had put forth so much effort to stay connected to Jeremiah. He wasn’t sure the past could be erased, but James deserved a chance, and as long as he was around, he’d make sure he got it.

  “We can’t see her right now anyway. I suggest we see what the doctors say. We can stay here for a few hours and figure out what we’ll do tomorrow.”

  Darnella ignored Lance and headed back inside the hospital. James sat near Lance. They each felt a newfound respect for the other.

  “I know I messed up, but I don’t want another man raising my child. Aruba might not want to be with me again, but I think it’s worth a try.”

  “I’m no stranger to infidelity. Hell, neither is Darnella. I think she’s sore because she doesn’t want you to hurt Aruba again. But y’all are grown and have to work this thing out yourselves.”

  “I’ll be here a while. I booked a hotel for a week, but after the blowup we just had, I might look into renting a house. Jerry can spend time with all of us. If I have to set up shop here to do hair, I will.”

  “Do what you have to do to get your woman back, James. You have my blessing.”

  Chapter 10

  Dr. Outley Shipman met with Aruba at ten the next morning. Aruba’s involuntary admission into the psychiatric facility embarrassed the family, but Dr. Shipman assured them he could get Aruba back on track. Only Lance, Darnella, and James came to the hospital; Maxine stayed behind to get Jeremiah off to school.

  Darnella eyed her watch as they sat in the lobby area. “What’s taking Dr. Shipman so long?” she asked.

  Lance rubbed her shoulder but said nothing. He quietly stewed from yesterday’s revelation of Darnella’s secrets. Lance believed Darnella was past midlife crisis
episodes; he wondered if she was evil, or so detached from reality she couldn’t see how much her actions resembled the ones she loathed from James. “Speck and logs.”

  “Did you say something, Lance?” she asked.

  “Nope.” His gaze returned to the window.

  “For the record, James, I let you come today because Lance thinks this is the right thing to do. If I had my way, you wouldn’t be here at all.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Oh, so you’re patronizing me now?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  James leaned forward and pulled his iPhone from his pocket. He saw a few missed calls from Shandy. He said to no one in particular, “I’m going to make a few business calls outside. I’ll be back.”

  “Go ahead and call your women. I’m sure you have a slew of messages from them,” Darnella hissed.

  “I…” James waved his hand and walked away, leaving her venom in the lobby.

  Lance faced her. “I’m telling you again, Nella, I’m not putting up with this nonsense. Leave the man alone and drop the attitude. Can you try to be civil for our daughter?”

  “I am being civil. Can’t I speak my mind?”

  Dr. Shipman interrupted Lance’s response. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Stanton. Would you please come this way?” he asked. He pointed to an office.

  They followed him and sat next to each other, both nervous about Dr. Shipman’s findings. He placed a manila folder on the desk and clasped his hands together.

  “Aruba is not as despondent as yesterday, but she has a long journey. I am recommending outpatient therapy once she’s released.” He removed a sheet of paper from his folder and slid it to Lance and Darnella. “Here is a list of excellent therapists in this area. She’ll need counseling. She’s unrestrained but medicated right now. It is crucial that she have family participation to get better. How much time are you willing to invest in her recovery?”

  “Neither of us work now, so that shouldn’t be a concern,” said Lance. “We’ll do what it takes to help her.”

  “She asked to see someone named James. Who is he?”

  Darnella shifted in her seat and pursed her lips. “My ex son-in-law.”

  “He’s actually outside right now. I’ll go get him,” said Lance.

  “Please do. I shouldn’t, but I’ll allow each of you to go in, but only for increments of ten minutes. Too much visitation is not good for her right now.”

  Darnella waited for Lance to leave the room. She leaned forward, clutching her strand of pearls. “Is there a way I can stop James from seeing her? I don’t want him to upset her any more than he has. He wasn’t the best husband to her, Dr. Shipman.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t make that call, Mrs. Stanton.”

  Lance and James returned to the room before Darnella could further protest.

  “Dr. Shipman, you said Aruba asked to see me,” said James.

  “Yes, she did. I’ll take you to her room.” James walked in stride with Dr. Shipman to room 184. Without asking, Darnella’s reaction let him know the divorce had been ugly. Still, he hoped they could be amicable for the sake of their child. He opened the door and pointed to his watch. He whispered, “Ten minutes.” Dr. Shipman walked out and left James alone with Aruba.

  James neared the bed slowly, not sure if he had the right room. He willed himself to face Aruba but found it difficult. His heart sank at the sight of her. He pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down. She hadn’t noticed him come in. He grabbed her right hand. Her ghastly appearance crushed him. Aruba’s claim to fame was being a Kenya Moore lookalike. James looked at her ashen face, chapped lips, and dull skin. He couldn’t stop wondering how long she’d been in this state. He ran his hands over her brittle, matted hair, which was once a healthy mane of bouncing curls. Acne dotted her face. Her nails, chipped with old polish, were varying lengths of neglect. Aruba always kept her hair and nails done.

  “Aruba?”

  She slowly turned to face James. Their eyes locked; she quickly turned away.

  “Don’t be afraid. I’m here now.”

  After a long pause, she faced him again and said, “You…feel sorry for me.” Her dull monotone was a reminder of the medication her father mentioned.

  “How can you say that? I never stopped caring for you. I’m here and I’m not leaving until you get better.”

  She wept at the sound of his words. He sat on the bed this time and cradled her in his arms. Too weak to return his embrace, she let him hold her and rock her back and forth.

  Chapter 10

  Nicolette washed clothes for a sleepover as Victoria contemplated ignoring her mother’s call for the seventh time. She knew the penalty for ignoring the call would be a personal visit, and that she couldn’t endure. Victoria grimaced at the sight of her mother’s name. Dammit!

  Three weeks had passed since The Capital Grille debacle. Emory kept his distance, and her mother was a tad too gleeful about their breakup. When Lillith called, it wasn’t to comfort her or ask how things were going. It was simply to say, “You did the right thing. The man would have been more trouble than he was worth.”

  Victoria sighed before answering the call. “Hello, Lillith.”

  “Don’t sound so enthused to hear my voice, darling. I called to check on you.”

  Is that what you call it? “I appreciate the call, Lillith, but you shouldn’t have. Really.”

  “Nonsense. Mothers are supposed to nurse their lovesick daughters back to a state of common sense. Now tell me you don’t feel better now that he’s not around.”

  “I miss Emory, Lillith. I miss his voice, his laughter, and the way we cooked together.”

  “Are you serious? You put on quite a few pounds being with him, in case you didn’t notice. If he had stuck around, you two would have been twins, wobbling around, looking like candidates for The Biggest Loser.” Lillith giggled into the phone and said, “Stop!”

  Victoria knew the giggling meant one thing: Lillith was entertaining one of her cubs. She marveled at her mother’s ability to attract younger men, even after a stroke left her mouth slightly crooked and partial paralysis on her right side. Lillith’s clothing left little to the imagination, and she pretended her small pot belly didn’t exist. She stuffed her size fourteen body into size eight clothing and dared anyone to challenge her style of dress. Victoria wanted so badly to call Lillith mom, but that wasn’t a possibility. Lillith ripped a page from the Joe Jackson School of Parenting and insisted Victoria call her by her first name. Not Mom. Not Momma. Not Mother. Before she left Victoria in Marguerite’s care, Lillith told people Victoria was her niece. Victoria often wondered if Leland, her father, would ever come back into her life, or if Lillith’s overbearing ways made him disinterested in having a relationship with her. A weird, clicking noise captured Victoria’s attention.

  “Lillith, what is that sound?”

  Lillith giggled again. “It’s Bobby clipping my toenails. He’s giving me a pedicure. Afterwards, we’re going out for drinks and dinner at the Mardi Gras Café tonight. Isn’t that sweet?”

  Victoria dry heaved. Bobby Yoder, a twenty-six-year-old valet, had been dating her mother the last six months. When he wasn’t driving Lillith’s car to run errands, he was propped up on her sofa eating chicken poppers, guzzling beer, and commentating with Reece Davis as if he deserved a seat at an ESPN desk. Lillith didn’t want to hear that Bobby needed and had found a mother figure in her. The thought of Lillith being intimate with Bobby churned her stomach.

  “How is my granddaughter doing?” Lillith asked.

  “Nicolette is doing laundry for a sleepover.”

  “A nine-year-old washing her clothes. I bet the two of you miss Alva, don’t you? A nanny is a treasure in this day and time.”

  Victoria cleared her throat. “I speak with her often. She returned to Antigua. We miss her and enjoyed the time she shared with us.”

  “Humph, if I had a nanny, you couldn’t tell me anything.”

  Vic
toria heard Bobby say, “I gotcha back, Lill,” as he continued clipping her toenails.

  “I bet you do,” said Lillith.

  Victoria’s doorbell rang, saving her from the smart quip she had ready for Bobby and Lillith. Saved by the bell. “I have to go, Lillith. Someone is at the door.”

  “We might stop by on our way out tonight,” said Lillith.

  “I won’t be here. I’m taking Nicolette to her sleepover, and then I have a few things to do. Enjoy your night out with Bobby,” said Victoria. She ended the call, disgusted by Bobby clipping her mother’s toenails.

  Victoria sped to the front door. She hoped Emory was ready to talk face-to-face. She peeked through the side panel curtain and saw Yvette and Marguerite’s smiling faces. Yvette held up a pink box from Cami Cakes; Marguerite held up a Publix box. She wasn’t ready for visitors and had held Marguerite and Yvette at bay with phone calls. She knew they’d eventually get tired of talking on the phone. She opened the door.

  “What do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” she asked.

  “You thought you were slick with the phone calls. We had to make a personal visit to make sure everything is okay with you. Besides, Foster told me to tell you if you can go to work, you can come to church,” said Marguerite. She placed the boxes on a hallway console table and removed her jacket. Yvette followed suit and gave her jacket to Marguerite to hang in the hall closet.

  “Let’s go in the kitchen. I’ll make some coffee and watch the two of you eat these goodies. You both know I’m trying to lose weight,” said Victoria.

  “You have a seat with Yvette while I make the coffee,” said Marguerite.

  “This is confessional, so you’re allowed a tiny treat. You look like you’re down a few pounds already,” said Yvette.

  “Stress and more stress,” said Victoria. “If I’ve lost weight, it’s because I can’t sleep or eat. I’m embarrassed about the way I acted at the party.”

  Marguerite busied herself making coffee while Yvette and Victoria sat at the island. Marguerite worked Victoria’s kitchen like an old pro, removing dessert plates, forks, and napkins from cabinets.