by Nikki Vale
“Are you telling me that you were worried I was suicidal?” I ask incredulously. She shrugs her shoulders noncommittally. “Look, Doc, you never have to worry about me becoming suicidal if anything, worry about me becoming homicidal.”
“Trevor! Don’t joke about such things,” she admonishes me, her gray eyes boring into me over the rim of her glasses. She smooths her gray hair down with her hand, making sure it’s still tucked in her neat little bun. “Let’s talk about your Granny Mabel.”
**********
“How’s the counseling going?” Adetekumbo asks, catching me outside of Dr. Wilder’s office.
“Fine. How’s yours going?”
“I finished a month ago,” he replies, looking guilty.
“Right, of course,” I answer. Of course, my counseling would take longer than everyone else’s. I was the only one captured.
“Lt. Woods, I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am about what happened,” A.D. says, rubbing the back of his neck.
Since I always walked behind Adetekumbo when we were on our mission in Africa, I was the first to be knocked out by the militiamen when they snuck up behind us. Adetekumbo heard me being taken down, and scrambled into the brush, quickly losing out attackers.
“It’s not your fault. I would have done the same,” I lie. There’s no way I would have run into the bushes, leaving my comrade in the hands of killers, but we all respond differently in the face of danger.
It’s either fight or flight.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Megan
Evie’s wedding is only a few weeks away, and I’ve been the best maid-of-honor, in the history of maids of honor. Everything is ready for the big day, all we need to do now is have the bachelor and bachelorette parties, then the rehearsal dinner, followed by the wedding, and we’re done.
I can’t freakin’ wait! And I don’t mean that in a positive way.
It’s been months since I’ve seen or heard from Trevor. But that’s my own fault. Gina finally moved in with Brayden about a month ago. I’m happy for her, but I’m lonely and hungry as hell.
‘Sweet Something’s by Gina’ finally opened back up. I stop by and get breakfast there most mornings, on my way to the school. Other than that, I mostly live off of salad, sandwiches, and tums.
Evie and I are as close as we’ve ever been. She makes that possible by never asking about Trevor. I’ve tried to forget about Trevor, but I can’t. Of course, I came to the conclusion that I wanted to be with him after I’ve messed things up so bad that there’s no chance in hell he’d want to be with me anymore.
I hear a knock on the front door and get up to answer it. I’m expecting Jake this morning. He’s my date for Evie’s wedding, and he asked me to go help him find a suit for the occasion. Opening the door, I step back in surprise seeing Granny Mabel standing there. She looks positively angelic in a pink floral blouse and long, flowing, white skirt. Her gray hair is loosely curled, and she’s wearing makeup.
“Well don’t you look lovely?”
“Don’t I always? Are you just gonna stand there gawking at me, or are you gonna invite me in?”
Chuckling, I step back and invite her in. Looking angelic doesn’t always mean acting angelic. I should know.
“To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
Granny Mabel raises an eyebrow at me before setting her large purse on my coffee table and taking a seat in my favorite recliner. I know she’s looking at me funny because of my choice of words, but it was the nicest way I could think to ask ‘what the hell are you doing here?’
“How are you?” she finally asks, as if she always shows up on my doors step for some light conversation.
“I’m fine. Can I offer you anything to drink?”
“Water would be nice,” she replies, smiling and settling further into the overstuffed recliner. “When’s the last time you talked to my grandson?”
Dropping ice cubes into a glass, I pause to consider her question. When was the last time I actually spoke to Trevor?
“I believe the last time we talked was Christmas Eve,” I tell her. That’s ridiculous now that I think about it. Here it is the middle of May, and I haven’t spoken to Trevor since December, even though I’ve seen him a few times since then.
“Are you bringing that water today?” Granny asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Yep. I got it right here.” I place the cold glass of water on the coffee table in front of her.
“So what’s the deal?”
“Excuse me?”
“With you and Trevor. What’s the deal? He’s been moping around for the past five months, and you were almost inconsolable when he went missing, you practically started withering away before our very eyes. Although, I can see that’s over, and you’re putting some weight back on you, which is good. Men like more cushin’ for the pushin’ – especially black men.”
“Granny!” I say, laughing.
“What? It’s the truth, and you know it,” she replies with a toothy grin. Granny Mabel pauses to take a sip of her water. “Now, what’s the problem with you and Trevor? You know he cares for you. He makes it plain enough for anybody with eyes to see. But you, your feelings are guarded like Fort Knox.”
This is weird. Granny Mabel expects me to talk to her about my feelings for her grandson when I can’t even talk to him about it? Is this an episode of The Carbonaro Effect? I’m seriously ready to start looking around for hidden cameras.
“If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t be here,” Granny Mabel continues. “I’m afraid you’ve just about succeeded in making Trevor give up on you.”
Her words put knots in my stomach. I already know I royally screwed up, but hearing the words out loud is even more disheartening. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I get my bearings before speaking.
“It’s too late for Trevor and me. He’s better off without me anyway, I’m like a ticking time bomb. You wouldn’t want me in your family, Granny Mabel. Trust me on that.”
“I’m here aren’t I? Don’t you know that you’re already part of our family, even if you and Trevor part ways? You can’t break up with family. We wouldn’t let you. Come here,” she says, waving me over as she stands up out of the chair. When I reach her, she wraps her thin arms around me in a hug, and I return the embrace. “You’re one of mine, and I love you.”
“I love you too, Granny Mabel,” I reply. And I mean it. She releases her embrace and grabs her purse off the table.
“This doesn’t mean I’m not still hoping you get your shit together, girly.” Smiling, I walk her to the door.
“Thanks for stopping by, and for getting all dolled up for me,” I tease her.
“Ha! Don’t flatter yourself. I had me a date. Charles is down there waiting in the car,” she informs me, pointing to an old Buick in the parking lot. “Oh, and BTW, I forgot to give this to you for Christmas. I just found it in the closet this morning.” She tosses me a box from out of her purse before continuing down the stairs, mumbling to herself. “Just like kids to think old people don’t have lives outside of them. Don’t they know, I’m a stone cold fox…”
Goodness gracious, that woman is something else. Closing the door behind her, I take a look at the box she tossed to me. It’s from Trevor. With trembling fingers, I slowly peel the carefully wrapped paper from the box. Inside is a bottle of my favorite scent from Bath & Body Works that was discontinued, ‘Sweet in Paris.’
I think Granny Mabel gave me just what I needed. I can’t keep the smile off my face, as I fix myself a sandwich, and wait for Jake to show up.
**********
“What is all this?” My mother asks as she lets herself into my apartment.
“What? My place is clean.”
“I know. It’s cleaner than I’ve ever seen it. I mean, it wasn’t dirty before. It was just, bohemian. Which I guess, it still is, because all your crazy furniture is still the same. It’s just super tidy. Like, super-duper tidy.”
“Okay, enough. I get it.”
“And what’s all this?” she asks, gesturing to the neatly stacked piles of movies on my coffee table. Picking up a couple of them, she reads the titles. “My Best friend’s Wedding, You’ve Got Mail, Friend’s with Benefits, Mystic Pizza… What is this, a new way to cry yourself to sleep at night?”
“Funny. Not all love movies are sad, and they don’t all end happily-ever-after, shockingly enough.”
“Yeah, okay. But what are you doing with every romantic movie known to man? You hate romance. Is this some kind of cry for help?”
“Don’t go off the deep end on me,” I tell her, patting the seat next to me. She plops down on the couch, next to me. “I thought maybe watching some of these movies would help me understand love better. Don’t look at me like that. I haven’t gone crazy. I know a lot of these movies aren’t very realistic, but they’re based on people’s feelings and the stupid things they do for love.”
“Honey, I think you’re still in denial. What you need to do, is go see your father,” she says, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl in my lap.
My father. It seems so cliché to think that my problems stem from daddy issues, but that saying didn’t come from out of nowhere. Who knows maybe seeing my father could help me. I’ve always been curious and at this point, what could it hurt.
“Okay, let’s do it. But after this movie. I’m kinda getting into it,” I tell her.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Let’s do it. Right after this.”
Brooklynn looks amazed, but also scared to keep pushing the issue in case I change my mind. She grabs the bowl of popcorn from me and settles into the corner of the couch, kicking off her heels and curling her legs underneath her.
“So what movie is this?”
“City of Angels. I have to admit Nicholas Cage comes off as a creepy-weird-stalker-dude, but still sweet and endearing. If that makes any sense.”
“Love never does. Let’s just see how it goes.”
**********
My mom bailed on me.
Not completely. She’s in the hotel room, but I thought we were doing this together. It looks like I’m not the only one who has issues they need to work through. At least she came with me to Las Vegas like she promised. In retrospect, she never promised she see my father with me, just that she’d travel with me.
And true to my word, we made reservations, packed and left right after the movie. I have to say, it was a good film, but I regret my decision to finish watching before leaving because it made me cry and now I feel emotionally drained. I could wait to see my father until tomorrow morning, but I might chicken out and change my mind between now and then.
Strong and confident is the way I’ve always viewed myself, but as of late, I’m just a hot mess. I’m not putting all my hope into one visit with my father being capable of completely turning my life around, but I optimistic that it will be a step in the right direction.
Stepping off the hotel elevator, I follow the signs leading me to the posh restaurant my father told me to meet him at. The smell of smoke and the sounds of cheering people and musical slot machines surrounds me. I’m feeling a little nauseous, and I’m not sure if it’s from nervousness or the smoke.
I see the imposing glass doors of the restaurant, named after some renowned chef, and my legs turn to jelly. I suddenly realize that I don’t know what my own father looks like. How could I forget to ask my mother to show me a picture? Have I really thought this through enough?
“Excuse me, Miss?” The friendly looking hostess calls out to me. “Are you Megan?”
“Yes.”
“Great. Carlos will escort you to your table. Mr. Montgomery is expecting you.”
Like a robot on autopilot, I follow behind Carlos. Catching my reflection in the mirrored wall, I’m surprised to see that I appear calm and collected in my sleek pantsuit and heels, when I feel anything but.
Carlos stops in front of a secluded table near the window where a handsome older gentleman with blond hair graying at the temples, stands to greet me. His face is ashen as if seeing a ghost.
“You’re almost the spitting image of your mother,” he says, his voice shaken. “But you’ve got my eyes.”
Not knowing what to do or say, I opt to take my seat. My father looks surprised like he expected a hug or a kiss from me, but he quickly hides his response and takes his seat as well.
“So, what do you think of our hotel,” he nonchalantly asks as he places his white linen napkin across his lap.
“Our, hotel?” I blanch at the question. He leans toward me, his green eyes peering into mine.
“What exactly has your mother told you about me?”
“Nothing much. She said she was an underage stripper. You met her at the club she worked at and immediately became an item. She got pregnant and split.”
“Is that it?”
“Pretty much.” Suddenly feeling parched, I take a sip of the ice water in front of me.
“So she never told you that we were in love and that I wanted to marry her? That I begged and pleaded for her to stay, but she left, taking my only child with her, leaving me heartbroken and alone?” His voice sounds like steel, with thinly veiled anger. Seeing the look on my face, he quickly apologizes. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me it’s just that seeing you is like opening an old wound.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I reply placing my napkin on the table, ready to leave. He reaches out and grasps my wrist.
“No! Please don’t go,” he pleads. His words don’t stop me, but tears shining in his eyes do. “I’m an utter mess right now.”
I know exactly what he means, so I take my seat again.
“Tell me something,” I say.
“Anything.”
“How come you never contacted me? Never came to see me? I understand if you and my mother had a falling out, but how could you abandon your child?” I ask him, in a voice much steadier than I thought it would be.
“I did come for you,” he says, knocking the wind right out of me. “You were just a baby when your mother contacted my sister, Daisy, and told her where you guys were. When Daisy told me, I was on the very next flight to California. Brooklynn was furious. She threatened to run off again, this time to somewhere I would never find her if I didn’t leave you both alone. So I left, and I never bothered either of you again, and Brooklynn never spoke to Daisy again. But, that doesn’t mean I didn’t see you from time to time or that I didn’t know how you were doing.”
“Why? Why would my mother do something like that? And what do you mean you saw us from time to time and knew what we were doing?” I demand.
“It was my fault. I was rash and in love. On the spur of the moment whim, I took your mother to meet my parents. I didn’t prepare her, or them, for the meeting, and it went disastrously. My parents were a bit snobbish and Brooklynn, well, she was Brooklynn,” he says smiling at the memory. “When my mother found out how Brooklynn and I met, she called her a few choice names. It didn’t go well, as I’m sure you can imagine. After that, Brooklynn decided that we came from two different worlds and that us being together would never work. There wasn’t anything I could do to change her mind. Believe me, I tried.”
I could see how my mother would react to being treated like a second class citizen, I can’t say that I wouldn’t do the same in her situation, but I don’t think it was fair that she kept me away from my father. Although, he’s not quite blameless either.
“What about me?” I didn’t mean the words to come out sounding so childish, but they did.
“I’ve always had my eye on you Megan, or someone else’s. When you were a little girl and took ballet, I made it to your productions even if I couldn’t make all your rehearsals. When you were in high school, and you captain of the girls’ volleyball team, I was right there in the stands, cheering you on. And when I can’t be there lurking in the shadows, Buster, keeps me in the loop.”
Tears are strea
ming freely down my face. All this time I thought my father wasn’t there for me, and he was. He went above and beyond what I could have hoped for − given the circumstances. He even had Buster keeping tabs on my mother and me.
“Wait a minute. Buster works for you?”
“Yes?” he hesitantly replies.
“Mom would totally lose her shit if she found out! She loves Buster. Hell, so do I,” I admit.
“I know, and he loves you guys too. So for all our sakes, please don’t tell your mother.” This is our first father/daughter secret. Before I can get a hold of myself, I burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably. My father is by my side in a flash, holding me, consoling me.
“I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“I’m not crying because you’re hurting me. I’m crying because you’re helping me.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Trevor
After six months of avoiding me, Megan finally wants to talk things out. You would think that after all this time, I would have given up on her. I didn’t. I might not have put my life completely on hold, waiting with bated breath, but in the back of my mind, she was always there.
Megan knew exactly when I’d be in town for Evie and Hunter’s wedding, and she called almost as soon as my plane touched the ground. Smitten man that I am, I didn’t even go to Granny Mabel’s house before heading straight to Megan’s apartment.
Now standing in front of her door, I take a few calming breaths before knocking. This is ridiculous. I’m less nervous being dropped out of a moving aircraft, flying over parts unknown, than I am knocking on this woman’s front door.
“There you are,” she says smiling nervously as she opens the door. Pulling her into a hug I smell the sweet, familiar scent of cupcakes, and smile.
“I see you got my gift,” I say, looking down into her beautiful face.