Michelle realized there were three reasons she should keep her plans for the night. Andre would be staying with Nigel and Regina’s sitter in an alarmed house, so he would be safe. Her date with Rashad was to go to an art show that included Regina’s work, and Michelle wanted to support Regina after all that Regina had done for her. And she needed to find a way to tell Rashad that she couldn’t see him anymore.
The last thought made her choke back a sob. She was swallowing her tears so that Andre wouldn’t see them.
She was at the dining table with her school books and papers spread out in front of her, but she couldn’t focus on them. Andre was in the living room watching Finding Nemo, which he’d seen at least three times since they’d visited the National Aquarium—three times in as many days.
She roused Andre from the film, took him to his room to pack his knapsack and then let him go back to the movie while she dressed. It was a special occasion for Regina, so she wanted something nice, but she didn’t feel like dressing up, not when it felt like her world was breaking apart.
She put on a red velour riding skirt and a black, crochet hankie-hem top, which she paired with her black boots and a long black cable-knit sweater. She finished it with red earrings, some lipstick and some rouge. Her hair was down, and she added a black headband to it. It seemed to be the right color for the day—the color of mourning.
After she left Andre at Nigel and Regina’s, she met Rashad at his house. They were going to take his car to a gallery in downtown D.C. Michelle didn’t say anything right away. She needed to get through the night first.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said and kissed her.
She thought it would be a brief greeting, but he pulled her in for a long, tender perusal. She shouldn’t have let herself, but she got lost in the embrace. With his lips to hers, he drew her into his foyer and let his hands begin to run over her body inside her heavy sweater. When she felt his hands on her breasts, she murmured, feeling herself begin to throb at her center. She felt his hand slip under her skirt and trail up her thighs, and she wanted nothing more than the sweet pressure of his fingers against her sex. A soft moan escaped her, and she felt her hips coming forward. She didn’t want to be away from this man.
“I can’t wait to make love to you tonight,” he said.
His low, masculine voice in her ear sent a ripple through her breasts.
He stepped back and exhaled. “And if we keep doing this, we won’t be going anywhere.”
Michelle looked into Rashad’s face—his full lips, his taut jaw, his sparkling eyes. She wanted to get lost in that rugged landscape.
She refocused her attention. She had to let him go tonight. What was she doing?
What could she do? She could figure out how to take care of business so that it might not be a permanent break. But who knew how long it would take to get Lucius out of her life for good?
“I have something to tell you later on,” she said.
He smiled, kissed her nose and wrinkled his brow inquisitively.
“Give me a hint.”
“Later, after the show. This is Regina’s night, and we better be going.”
“I can’t wait to meet your family and thank your cousin for helping to bring you here.”
They got in Rashad’s car, and he turned to her.
“And Thanksgiving.”
Thanksgiving. Michelle hadn’t even thought about it. It was almost here. She had been asked to spend it with Nigel and Regina, and she was supposed to bring her homemade macaroni and cheese. How was she going to get through that?
“I know I’m late asking, but I hope you’ll spend it with my family. They’ve insisted on seeing you again, and Andre will have a blast with my nieces and nephews. It’s at my par—”
“I’ve already planned to spend Thanksgiving with Nigel and Regina.”
“Cancel. Or we can house hop. We can do their place for lunch and drive up to Baltimore in time for leftovers.”
“I have work to do for school. Next week is the last week of classes and then come finals.”
He touched her face, making her inhale sharply.
“I know. You have a lot on your plate, but we can work something out. Think about it.”
The night at the showing went well. Regina’s mosaic pieces sold more than the work of any of the other artists. Michelle could look at them and see why.
Rashad got on well with both Regina and Nigel. Regina gave her a thumbs-up sign behind his back to indicate her approval, and Michelle could barely tear him away from the conversations he got into with Nigel—something about old-school music and something about finances and something about Rashad opening his own graphic design firm. The two got on as if they were old friends, and they actually looked like they could be brothers in their matching blue suits.
It only made what she had to do all the harder.
At the end of the night, she and Rashad went back to his home.
She was quiet along the way.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he asked.
She looked down and shook her head, not wanting to start what she had to say in the car.
“We do have to talk,” he said. “You need to tell me what’s been going on with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You get distant sometimes, distracted. I think something’s wrong.”
“I have a lot on my plate.”
“I know.”
He let it go until they got inside. He kissed her before they sat down on his couch, and he wrapped his arm around her loosely on the sofa so that they could face one another as they talked.
But Michelle didn’t want to face him. Those gentle brown eyes and full, soft lips made what she had to say too hard. She looked down at her lap, where her fingers played nervously against one another. She knew now that she had started to love this man, but she also knew that she couldn’t pull him into the black hole that had taken over her life.
“Rashad, I think we need to take a break.”
“What? Are you breaking up with me?”
“I just need some time.”
“Time for what? What’s going on?”
Time to make sure that my ex-husband doesn’t steal my son, she thought. But she didn’t say that. She sighed heavily, thinking about all the things she had planned for her life.
“I just have too much going on. Classes ending, finals and final projects coming up, work, my son—it’s all too much. I can’t spend time with you and do all of that and keep my eye on Andre and give him all of the attention that he deserves.”
“Maybe we can give Andre attention together.”
Michelle found that her heart was being moved and ruptured at the same time.
“Maybe I can help lighten your load a bit so that we do have time to be together sometimes. I can cook dinner some days or take Andre so that you can study or—”
“With all that I have going on, I can’t let Andre become attached to you. He met you once and just adores you. He keeps watching Finding Nemo and asking—”
“Doesn’t his mother adore me, too?” Rashad asked quietly.
Michelle squirmed under his close scrutiny and couldn’t lie.
“That’s not the point. I just have too much going on. I need a break.”
“What’s been going on? Tell me. What’s really been bothering you?”
Michelle thought of rushing to her son’s preschool that morning and of all the history needed to make someone understand what had led to that point. There was no short answer. No, she didn’t want to drag Rashad into this with her. He couldn’t right the past or fix the present. He couldn’t quit his job and become their bodyguard.
“I just told you what you need to know,” she said firmly. “There’s too much going on in my life.” S
he stood to go. “There’s no use talking more. I’m going to go.”
Michelle walked out of Rashad’s house without giving him the chance to say more. She picked up Andre from Regina’s sitter, and she brought him home.
She spent that night and the next several days trying not to second-guess herself, but it didn’t work. She already missed the possibility of someone in her life. She already missed Rashad.
She made it through Thanksgiving with a brave smile on her face. She didn’t tell Regina and Nigel about her breakup with Rashad. She didn’t want to answer the kinds of questions they might ask.
She didn’t stop second-guessing herself until that weekend, when something happened that let her know without a doubt that Lucius was not simply going to leave her alone to get on with her life and that he would do his best to drag down her and anybody associated with her.
It was partly her own fault. It was Sunday evening, and she had taken Andre with her to go get groceries. When she returned home, she got all the bags to the front door before opening it, but she couldn’t get them inside with her new alarm on. She turned it off to move the bags inside and started emptying the hallway. She placed the last two bags on the dining room table and turned from Andre to shut the door and rearm the alarm.
There in the doorway stood Lucius, his large figure filling the frame.
He had a hand on the doorjamb and one foot casually crossed over the other, and he stood watching her with bloodshot eyes and a twisted smirk on his lips. He had a look of hate on his face. She could tell from the redness of his eyes that he had been drinking, and she could tell from the firmness of his stance that he was not yet fully drunk.
He swaggered into the living room as if it were his.
“Come here, son,” he said to Andre.
Andre got down off his chair and started to obey.
“Stay right there, Andre,” Michelle said.
She had been looking at the central controller for her alarm system. The keypad was near the door, and she lunged across the room to get to it and sound the panic alarm. Lucius was nearer to the door than she was and intercepted her. He grabbed her arms and pushed her back into the room, knocking her down to the floor. Then he started laughing at her.
Andre started to cry and came running to her. He was too small to help her up, but he was trying. He turned to his father and said “no” in the midst of his tears.
Michelle scrambled to her feet in time to see Lucius take a menacing step toward his own son. She moved Andre behind her, getting in front of him, between him and Lucius, and backing them away.
Andre clung to the backs of her legs, his arms circling one of her thighs around the slacks she was wearing. His cries turned into low whimpers.
Lucius took a step toward her.
“You think I won’t hit you?”
He raised one of his hands to strike her. Michelle involuntarily cringed, and she heard Andre’s cry go up again. She took an impulsive step backward, moving Andre with her.
He’d done it before—hit her. She knew what he was capable of, especially when he’d been drinking. But he had never hit Andre. He knew by instinct where she drew the line, and she was damned if she was going to let him do that.
You won’t touch my child, she thought.
“Leave us alone,” she said, but her voice cracked. “Leave,” she added, but it sounded more like a plea than a command.
Still, Lucius didn’t like it.
“Leave.” He stepped toward her, forcing her to step back again. “You don’t tell me when to leave. Didn’t you get my messages? You don’t tell me what to do. I pay for you. I’ll do what I want to do with you.”
He smacked his fist into his palm right in front of her face, forcing her back farther.
“You got my present? That’s you, a filthy rat. A whore. You think I don’t know about this man you got up here? You tell him he better keep away from my property, or he’ll see what he gets. You tell him I pay for you, and I do what I want with you.”
“I’m not seeing anyone anymore,” she said, worried that Lucius might try to do something to Rashad. She was aware of the irony of it all. “And you’re the one who was always chasing after women, all through—”
He smacked his fist into his palm again, and she backed into the wall behind her with Andre wedged between the wall and her legs.
“That’s because you can’t satisfy a man. And I’ll have you whenever I want. I pay for you.”
“Don’t talk this way in front of a child. You think you’re fit to see him? You’re not.”
Lucius lowered his face to hers and banged his fists against the wall on both sides of her head.
“Hear that? That’s what you’re going to get soon.”
She turned her face from his sour breath but was trapped against the wall and didn’t know what else to do.
“Why are you doing this in front of your son? He’s four. Four.”
“I pay for him, too. You can’t keep him from me.”
A feeling of panic started to rise inside Michelle. If Lucius tried to take Andre, what could she do?
“You don’t have him because you came drunk to the custody hearing and acted a fool. And you won’t get my son.” It was a strong statement, but with Lucius so close to her face, Michelle found herself speaking just above a whisper.
“You think you got a mouth on you, but I’m making plans for you. See?”
Lucius opened the leather bomber jacket he was wearing, and Michelle could see the handle of a small gun sticking up from the top of his jeans. She gasped.
A siren went by outside, and Lucius took a step back and listened. Michelle could tell that it was a fire engine, but perhaps Lucius was too tipsy to tell the difference between that and the police. In seconds it passed them, fading into the growing darkness.
“I’ll come for him when I’m ready.”
He backed up and turned toward the open door. He listened momentarily for sounds and then stepped into the hall.
“You’re not done with me until I’m done with you,” Lucius said.
Michelle kneeled down to take Andre into her arms and her legs buckled beneath her, sinking her to the floor as the sobs started shaking her shoulders.
She heard Lucius yelling outside about her being a whore.
She had only a second to indulge her tears. If the police were going to get him, she needed to call at once. She took a breath, lifted Andre and herself, found the phone on the counter and dialed 911 to report that her ex-husband had entered her apartment and threatened her and had a gun.
“He’s still outside.” She heard a car start. “Wait, I hear a car starting,” she said though her tears. “That could be him, but it’s too dark to see anything from up here.”
“Try to stay calm, Ms. Johns. A patrol car is in your area.”
When she had finished the report, she hung up the phone and sank back down onto the floor with Andre in her arms; his little body shook as he hiccupped sobs. With Lucius gone, the tension that had built up inside Michelle broke through, and her sobs joined Andre’s. She pressed him to her chest, scared of losing him.
She had wanted to handle this on her own. Now she felt alone in her turmoil. She held Andre against her and cried, and she couldn’t help wishing that Rashad’s arms were around her.
Chapter 12
Rashad had spent Thanksgiving with his family in Baltimore, avoiding inquiries about Michelle and tolerating ribbing about her from his brothers.
Now he was on his way to her place to get some answers to inquiries of his own. He refused to let it be over without a real explanation and knew that she hadn’t told him the full story. He had to know if she had a viable reason for ending their relationship.
It didn’t make sense to him that she was willing to let
him go after all that they had shared. What little he did know was leading him to her place for the truth. What little he did know didn’t prepare him for what he found when he got there.
When he arrived, her door was open.
“Michelle?” he called, stepping inside.
That’s when he heard Andre’s sniffles.
“Andre?” he called and rounded the couch.
The path toward the bedrooms was between the couch and the counter that separated the dining room and the living room. On the floor in front of the counter, he found Michelle holding Andre to her chest and rocking back and forth. There were tears running down her face, and Andre was crying, as well.
Rashad sprinted over to them and knelt down, wrapping his arms around them.
“Michelle, what’s happened? Are you all right?”
She pulled Andre closer to her and continued rocking. She nodded and then buried her face against the crown of Andre’s head.
“What happened?”
She shook her head and didn’t answer.
“Do I need to call the police?”
She shook her head again.
“An ambulance?”
“No.”
Rashad moved his arm beneath her knees, lifted them both and carried them to the couch. She seemed in no position to talk, so he kept an arm around her and started rubbing her hair and patting Andre as their tears began to subside.
When he heard the police siren outside, he knew that it was coming there, and he watched the open front door until a blue uniform darkened the frame.
“Michelle Johns?” an officer asked.
Michelle nodded, wiped at the streaks on her face and began to pull herself together to talk to the officers.
“We’re aware of your case,” said the officer. “Tell us what happened.”
“I was bringing in the groceries.” She pointed behind her to the bags on the table. “So the alarm was off. My ex-husband, Lucius Vaughn, came in after me.”
Rashad listened while Michelle described the events. He didn’t know what had happened already in her “case,” but he got a clear picture of that evening.
In His Arms Page 11