Would I Lie to You?

by Trisha R. Thomas

  HER apartment felt empty and lonely with the curtains drawn closed in the middle of the day. Venus guessed that Timothy was still with her mother and father at the hospital, where she should have been. She pushed the button on the answering machine and stood over it in the middle of the apartment as she began to undress, one of the perks of living alone. She peeled off the red knit top and slung it over the back of the couch. “Hey, Venus, it’s Wendy I saw Airic downtown. I’m so sorry to hear about your mother. Call me. We should talk. I love you. God bless.”

  The next message was Airic’s. “Hey baby, just checking on you. I won’t be able to make it there this weekend. I know that’s the last thing you want to hear with all that’s going on with your mom, but I can’t get around it. Maybe you can come here. You probably need a break from all the stress. Um … okay, let me know what you decide. Love you.”

  His messages were always left on her cell phone. If he really wanted to reach her, he knew how to do so. Venus stood over the answering machine like it was a living, breathing thing of contradiction and confusion. What was this telling her, that he knew she wouldn’t be home and it was safe to call because he really hadn’t wanted to talk to her anyway?

  She felt waves under her feet. This was something she never expected out of Airic. But then again, she couldn’t have predicted the last few days. Nothing had been as usual. Things were falling apart like an earthquake, consistent rumbling underneath the earth’s core. A bubbling up of all that hadn’t been right.

  Calm down, she tried to tell herself. It was just a message. After all, she was the one who didn’t answer her phone last night, sitting in the car, watching it ring like an alarm bell, telling her to do the right thing. She’d ignored it and chased after Jake instead.

  She pulled a fresh T-shirt over her head and noticed that it clung to her firm round breasts, molding her every curve. She took it off quickly and found another top, large and floundering. Something that wouldn’t remind her mother of what she’d lost.

  “IT’S me.” Venus held the cell phone close to her ear while she drove, maneuvering on busy Wilshire Boulevard.

  “Girl,” Wendy blew into the phone. “I bumped into Airic downtown. I couldn’t believe it when he told me about your mother. How’re you holding up?”

  “Not good. No, I shouldn’t say that. I’m good. My mom is doing okay The doctor removed her right breast. She’s supposed to get out of the hospital today and she just had the surgery day before yesterday It’s just a trip. This whole thing. She’s still Pauletta, you know. She’s acting like everything will be okay, so I’m trying to hang in there and feel the same way.”

  The words crept like small bruised animals in her throat. But she kept going, “… because, I mean … the fact that a breast is gone doesn’t take away your soul, doesn’t make you less of a person, right? What the hell is the big deal? She’s still alive and that’s all that counts.” Her mouth was a garble of words while she rubbed at her eyes. Venus couldn’t help it, pulling over and nearly running up the side of the curb. She tried to plug her tear ducts, stop them from rendering her blind. She’d met people who didn’t cry and claimed to have never shed a tear they could remember. Their ducts must’ve been removed, or they’d already cried a lifetime’s worth of sadness and had no more to give. Soon, she’d fall into that category.

  “Oh, Venus, oh sweetie. I’m coming to Los Angeles. You’re all alone out there, dealing with this. I’m coming.”

  Venus wanted to tell her no, that’s okay. It’s just a breast, the part nobody wants on the turkey ’cause it’s too dry. She wanted to tell Wendy that her mother was fine. She was fine. It wasn’t necessary. Crying over a stupid lost breast.

  “I’ll make arrangements for the kids. Sidney will understand. He needs to spend some time with them anyway.”

  A pool of silence wavered between them. Venus knew Wendy would do it, fly all the way from Washington, D.C., just to be by her side. Hadn’t she been there when Venus cried thirty days and thirty nights over losing Clint Fairchild, and swore she’d never tell a soul?

  They dubbed it Black Saturday, the day Clint married Kandi Treboe. Venus attended the wedding, she’d wished them both well, and why shouldn’t she, she had Airic. But in truth, Venus hadn’t been ready. An eclipse began the morning after, a sudden darkness that encapsulated her world. The cloak was thick and heavy with shame and embarrassment Why she even went to the wedding was a mystery Her only excuse was that she had believed the freedom was real. The lightness and forgiveness of her heart were real. But deep down inside she’d been miserable, and Wendy was the only one who knew the truth. She held her, rocked her, and kept the liquids flowing like caring for a lingering flu. Only it was heartache. Clint had married someone else right under her nose.

  “I’m okay, really. I’m fine. You can’t drop your life over this. My mom is going to be fine.” Venus sniffed, trying to get a hold of herself. “I think everything is going to be okay. Timothy is here. My dad.” Somehow, they both knew not to mention Airic.

  “If you need me, Venus, you know I will be on the first thing smoking. Do you hear me?”

  “I do, loud and clear.”

  They hung up. Venus was once again exhausted. She flipped the rearview mirror down to face herself. She dug in her purse and pulled out the Visine. She squirted a few drops in her eyes and let her head fall against the headrest while her eyes burned with more tears. She listened to the steady movement of traffic. The swish of cars tearing by. She pictured herself opening the car door and stepping out too far, being hit, slammed in her center and carried away. Destroyed, no longer whole. Was it she or her mother? It felt like there was no separation between the two; she placed her hand over her breast and began to weep and mourn their loss.

  THE hospital bed was empty when Venus came around the corner. First appalled, then relieved, she stepped back into the corridor. The nurses’ station was partitioned off, only allowing the tops of their heads to be seen where they were seated. Venus walked over and leaned in on her elbows. “Did Pauletta Johnston check out already?”

  A soft smile appeared on the Asian woman’s face, “Pauletta, yes. You’re her daughter?”

  Venus nodded her head, guessing that nurses gossiped like every other work pool. Venus being kicked out in favor of Dr. Prah was probably worth at least ten minutes of lively discussion.

  The nurse pulled up information on her computer screen. “It’s not in here yet,” she said as she shuffled through papers in a tray, then came up with a bunch of paper-clipped forms. “Hold on; yep, she’s checked out. I thought I saw her being rolled out not long ago. 11:56, is the time stamp.” She looked at her watch. “You probably missed her on your way up.”

  Venus mouthed the words thank you and turned and left. It was true. Always a step behind, she chastised herself, pushing on the elevator button. She couldn’t figure out if she’d planned it that way. A true sign that she was never going to catch whatever she was chasing.

  The elevator pulled open.

  If the heels on her boots weren’t four inches high she would have fallen over backward. Venus stepped back and gave a second thought to running in the other direction.

  Clint Fairchild. Wait, no, Doctor Clint Fairchild, crisp and starch fresh in his powder-blue shirt and gray slacks. His dark skin even darker, healthy and glowing.

  His eyes squinted with recognition. He pushed the button to open the doors back up that had begun to close. “Venus?”

  She paused, as if she didn’t know who he was. “Oh my goodness, is that you, Clint?” She stretched out her arms. “What are you doing in L.A.?” They hugged long and hard.

  “This is me, I’m on staff. Pediatrics.” His mouth stretched in a wide smile. “Man, this is wild, how’re you doing?” Genuine joy spread across his face.

  “I’m fine.” She blinked too many times.

  “What’s going on? What’re you doing here?”

  “My mom, she had a mastectomy.”

&nbs
p; “No. V, I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath. His smile completely faded. “How’s she doing?”

  “I’m on my way to find out She checked out today. Probably home by now.”

  “I’m sorry.” The incredulousness of the situation weighed in his tone.

  Venus switched places with him and punched the elevator button. “I better get going. At least I know where to find you. I thought you were back in D.C. practicing at Greater Washington.”

  He got back on the elevator too. “Oh, yeah, I was. I just took this spot about three months ago. I’m actually the head of the department.” His chest puffed up with pride.

  “Of course,” Venus said, before she could stop herself, feeling the old tensions rise. She scanned his left hand quickly. “So how do you like it?”

  “Serious work, here. Crack babies in neo. I thought it was bad in D.C., but L.A. just might have the upper hand in that department.”

  “Really, wow, that’s sad.”

  “Yeah.” He watched the lights count down to his floor. “So we’ve got to get together, V. Play catch-up. I know we’ve got a lot to talk about so don’t even pretend like you’re too busy, or make any excuses.” The curve of his mouth in a half smile, his eyes lowered. “Where’re you staying? Your mom’s?”

  “No. I have my own place, I’m here on assignment. This whole thing, the cancer, my mom, I just found out about it. I guess God puts us where we’re supposed to be.” She put her head down. “I would be sick if I was stuck in D.C. while all this was happening. Not doing so good here, either.”

  The elevator stopped. “She’ll pull through, V.” He touched her chin, lifting her face slightly as if he had a right. “We’ll sit down and talk about it, okay? Meanwhile, I’ll look into what I can. Find out what’s what”

  “Sure, yeah. I’ll give you a call, maybe we can do coffee or something. Not here, though, it’s terrible,” She tried to make light before the doors closed.

  “I’d like that—”

  As soon as the sliding doors sealed, she felt the nausea kick to her stomach. A harsh burning that made her stumble slightly out the hospital entrance.

  Clint was in Los Angeles.

  She made it to the parking garage and found her car. She got inside and dropped forward with her head on the leather steering wheel. “Clint here, in Los Angeles, the same hospital as my mother. Here,” she whispered through the round hole of the steering wheel. She started the engine and sped out of the parking garage, winding in a spiral until she reached the street. She swung out into traffic, barely missing another car. She could still feel the cool tips of his fingers on the point of her chin. He wasn’t wearing his wedding band. She saw it with her very own eyes, the day he and Kandi had been pronounced man and wife, the ring exchange. But he wasn’t wearing his.

  So what.

  She came to a stoplight and took the spare minutes and laid her head down on the steering wheel, holding her stomach. The car behind her honked. She stepped on the gas quickly and sped through the light as it turned yellow.

  Clint’s here.

  So what. So what. So what. So what! she finally yelled at the top of her lungs. So what he looked good, so what he wasn’t wearing a ring, and so what if she had thought about him at least once a day for the last two years? It’s not like they were good thoughts. Half the time she’d pictured herself pouring something cold and thick over his head, or walking up to him out of nowhere and landing a hard right across his face. That’s what you get … for walking away from the best thing you ever had.

  She was doing twice the speed limit. So what. She ran a light that turned red while she was in the middle of the crossing. So what. She turned a corner on nearly two wheels. She slowed when she saw the orange and green sign of a 7-Eleven convenience store. She needed something, anything, to squelch the uprising in her stomach. She came to a stop, parking crooked and on the edge of the curb, and jumped out and ran inside. The water bottles sat low in the corner of the refrigerated compartment. Venus squatted with her skirt tight around her thighs. She opened the Evian bottle, taking a swig, drinking for survival.

  It didn’t mean a thing. Her life would not be altered one iota. Her mother was still sick. She still had Airic. So what. She still had a career that she loved. She still had Jake. The water bottle tipped past comfort and spilled down her blouse. She stood up, wet and flabbergasted. Had she just thought that … she still had fake?

  “Hey, you plan on paying for that?” The cashier behind the counter waved to get Venus’s attention.

  She wiped her mouth and patted at moistness on her chest. “Yes,” she said, feeling a sudden and unnerving relief. Unwarranted, unfounded relief.

  SLOW DANCING

  A line of people packed in around the Pantages Theatre. Bodies pressed against each other. Rain still poured with a fury past the overhang where the words Lila Kelly Tonight were written on the marquee. “I think we can bypass all these people.” Jake took Venus by the hand and pulled her through the thick crowd. A petite young woman with thick blond braids held up her hand.

  “We’re not admitting yet. Wait behind the yellow rope, please.”

  Jake held up his tickets and the backstage passes.

  “Okay.” She softened immediately. “Go straight to the end and make a right at the stage.” Venus heard the gasps and moans from the waiting crowd when they appeared to receive special treatment. The young woman unhooked the yellow rope for them to pass.

  “It’s raining, they should just let everybody in.”

  Once inside Jake still held on to her hand. The red interior was old-fashioned and eighteenth-century heavy. The chandeliers, high ceilings, and wood moldings were beautifully maintained, shiny rich oak with intricately carved designs. “I saw The Wiz here.” She looked around, reminiscing about the day she and her mother saw the African American play with Stephanie Mills as Dorothy. Nearly front-row seats. The majestic colors of the costumes, the dramatic songs and acting. It was the first time she’d ever seen such a thing. An ensemble of black singers and dancers, the giddiness of that day, the exuberance recalled with so much clarity. Her grip tightened around Jake’s hand.

  “I only saw the movie. I was a little embarrassed watching Michael Jackson ease on down the road, I must say”

  Venus smiled. “It’s a classic. I’d show it to my kids if I ever had any” They reached the dark corner at the end of the aisle. The giant red velvet curtain was closed on the stage. Venus followed, still eyeing the first few rows, remembering herself as a child beaming with wonderment.

  “You want kids?” Jake asked, making more than trivial conversation.

  “Yes, I would like to have kids.” Venus held her head down as if there were shame in that confession. “You?”

  “Definitely.” He rethought his answer. “But if I couldn’t have them, it’d be no big deal.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, if the lady that I fell in love with couldn’t have kids, I could live with that.” He was fishing. She stayed quiet. “Does Airic want children … with you?” It was the first time he’d used his name, the first time he’d acknowledged him with more than the euphemism honey. Venus tried not to let it shake her. She continued walking, following the dark maze with spotlights shining up from floor level. She’d told Jake about Airic having two daughters from a previous marriage. They’d talked about all sorts of things the day they’d spent together, the night. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she mentioned the fact that they were nearly grown, and Airic could be looking into the face of grandfatherhood shortly. But yes, he’d wanted children … with her.

  “I’m sorry. I guess that’s personal.” Jake slowed and let her go in front of him. They finally came to the end of the trail. Two large bounty-hunter-looking guys came up and towered over Venus. Jake stuck his passes in front of their large round faces.

  “You need to wear those, around the neck, money.” One of the men lifted his fat finger, making a ring around his neck area. “Go
ne mess up your look, dawg?” He grinned.

  Jake pulled the tag over his head. Venus did the same.

  “Oh shit … I know you. Whassup man, you ain’t makin’ no more hits?” He started doing a little dance. “… I like them luscious lips and those fat juicy hips.”

  Jake saw Venus from the corner of his eye ready to fix the bodyguard’s incorrect version of the song. He stopped her. “Nah, man. I’m outta the game.”

  “Right … you make them T-shirts and shit. My little cousin likes your stuff, man. That’s cool.”

  This time Jake’s chest puffed up. Venus intervened. “JPWear is a multimillion-dollar company. It’s more than T-shirts, I can assure you. That’s why we’re here to talk to Miss Kelly, to see if she’s interested in representing the preeminent force.”

  The bodyguard tilted his head like a puppy who didn’t understand. “Yeah, okay. Miss Kelly only allows five minutes per visitor. Ya’ll want to go in individually or together, five minutes together or five minutes each way. Your call.”

  Venus felt like she was visiting a prison ward. She scrunched up her nose to show her distaste for the way they were being treated.

  “Together,” Jake commanded, needing to get his grounding back around the oversized men.

  The one wearing his black cap backward turned around and started walking. “Follow me.”

  Venus was thinking this was a tad much. But then again, this was Lila Kelly, the hottest new diva. Fans—men, women, girls, and boys—were probably her worst nightmare at this point, pulling and scratching to get a hold of her. She probably needed bodyguards just to make a trip to the corner market, probably couldn’t stroll down the feminine hygiene aisle without being spotted. It was embarrassing enough carrying the large brightly colored boxes to the checkout, Venus couldn’t imagine having to do it with people watching intentionally.