All the Things I Meant to Tell You

by Tiffany L. Warren

  Kimberly created the scene in her mind. Ron, Sabrina and their two children looking like a happy interracial family at the ice cream shop?

  “You didn’t mention you saw her.”

  “I just did.”

  Also, this little meetup had happened right after Kimberly had shared the “violent Ron” scenario. Ron had gone to North Carolina that morning. How was he able to sit down with her and break bread after she’d just tried to ruin his relationship?

  “I don’t know how I feel about you seeing her without me being there. Especially since she tried to make me think I was about to be a domestic violence victim.”

  Ron sighed and stroked his goatee. “I know. I needed to talk to her about that though, because I thought we were in a good place. I didn’t understand why she was bringing that up again.”

  “I don’t trust her. If she would make up a story like that on you, what might she do now that you’re going to marry someone else?”

  “She didn’t really lie. She just gave you her perception of the events. She really was afraid. I just know she didn’t have a reason to be.”

  * * *

  Kimberly narrowed her eyes with confusion. It sounded like Ron was defending Sabrina. Something didn’t sit right about that.

  “So, you don’t have a problem with her telling me that?”

  “Of course, I do. But she insists that she was just trying to give you information that she hadn’t had when we got married. I don’t like it, but I don’t think she did it to hurt anyone.”

  “Why are you, all of a sudden, sympathetic toward her?”

  “She told me about how she felt at the engagement party, and to be honest it was a little surreal for me too. It was part of the reason why I didn’t want a wedding to begin with.”

  “Well, if you both are going to be uncomfortable, maybe we need to tell her to stay her ass at home and not come to Jamaica.”

  Ron nodded. “I thought about that, and I think you’re right. But, if we want her to stay home, I think you’re going to have to make her feel more comfortable.”

  “Bullshit. She knows I’m not going to do anything to your children.”

  “She suggested that the three of us go to family counseling prior to the wedding. I think it’s a good idea. What do you think?”

  Kimberly thought her head might literally explode. But how would it seem to Ron if she was against doing something that would put the mother of his children at ease? Certainly, he wanted to bring them to their home once they were married.

  It was the matter of control that bothered Kimberly. It seemed that Sabrina wanted to establish a level of control in their marriage. Like she just couldn’t get over the fact that Ron had moved on from her.

  “She mentioned that when she came to my office to fake apologize.”

  “Fake apologize?”

  “Yes. Now that I’m listening to you, I don’t believe she was remorseful about her actions at all. I think she’s a narcissist.”

  Ron’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t say anything, because the server stood in front of them with serving trays of appetizers. There were miniature skewers with coconut shrimp, pineapple and ham chunks, little BLT biscuits with a tiny piece of fried green tomato, miniature lobster rolls, and cornbread cupcakes garnished with fried chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes. Kimberly’s stomach growled as the aromas wafted to her nose.

  Ron piled items onto his plate and took bites of everything. The chewing and little grunts of pleasure took the place of conversation for a moment. That was good, because they needed a timeout.

  Ron took a deep breath and swallowed a huge swig of sweet tea. He patted his stomach.

  “Am I supposed to try more food after this?” he asked.

  “Yes. You should’ve paced yourself. We’ve got soup, salad, main course, and dessert left.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing I packed my extra stomach.”

  “I didn’t. I’m trying to lose a few pounds for the wedding.”

  “Why do you think you need to do that? You look beautiful to me.”

  Kimberly gave Ron a tiny smile. She loved when he validated her and made her feel beautiful in her own skin. But losing a few pounds for the wedding didn’t have anything to do with him. She was even more determined since his ex-wife was trying to insert herself in their lives. Couldn’t have her man comparing what he used to have to what he currently had.

  “Thank you, baby,” she said.

  “There may be some truth to what you say about Sabrina, although I wouldn’t go as far as calling her narcissistic. She’s just self-centered.”

  “Selfish.”

  “Agree. Except she isn’t that way when it comes to the girls. She thought the dresses were pretty.”

  “What were her exact words when you showed her the picture?”

  Ron laughed. “She said, ‘Oh how ethnic. Will there be drums too?’ ”

  “Now see.”

  “That’s not funny to you? I found it to be hilarious. She knows absolutely nothing about African culture. When she saw the print on the dresses her mind went to all she knows about Africa—drums.”

  “This is why I get bothered when brothers procreate with white women. She’s raising two young black women.”

  “We’re raising them.”

  “Yes, but women get a lot of their identity and ways from their mother. It’s simple observation. She’s going to raise two white women in black women’s bodies, and it’s going to be difficult for them to connect with other black women.”

  “They’re lucky they have you now. Their stepmother will show them how to be strong black women.”

  “Right. Sabrina can’t teach them to be strong, because strength is optional for white women. They can wait to be rescued when they’re in trouble. Damsels in distress. A black woman has to get up and save her damn self.”

  “Baby, you’re almost hyperventilating,” Ron said. “Calm down. Your black knight in shining armor is here now.”

  He took both her hands and kissed them.

  “Whenever you need rescuing, I got you.”

  Kimberly trembled and looked up at Ron. She knew he would do just that, because that was the kind of man he was. But Ron needed to understand that he was Kimberly’s knight only, and not Sabrina’s. She wasn’t going to share her man or her life with Ron’s ex-wife.

  And by the time they got on that plane to go to Jamaica, Sabrina was going to know her place, and stay in it.

  Chapter 30

  HAHNA

  Twila had suggested a green smoothie diet, to jumpstart my weight loss for the wedding, and my goofy self had listened to her. I took celery, kale, avocado, green apple slices, and cilantro out of my refrigerator and stared at them on the counter. I imagined how disgusting this was going to taste when I put it all in the blender.

  “Where’s the banana and or pineapple,” Twila said as she walked into the kitchen and surveyed the ingredients for our liquid breakfast.

  “Ooh, I knew I was forgetting something.”

  “Yeah, with all those vegetables, you need something sweet to balance it out.”

  I grabbed a banana from the pantry, but I’d forgotten to pick up a pineapple from the grocery store. The banana was going to have to be good enough.

  “Tell me why we’re doing this again,” I said.

  “So, we can be snatched in Jamaica.”

  “You’re already snatched. Can I just be tucked in? I can tuck this little gut into a girdle.”

  Twila shook her head. “You are not gonna go out like that. Stop being lazy and a quitter. You don’t even have much weight to lose. Ten pounds would do wonders for your figure.”

  I rolled my eyes and plugged in the blender. Twila started cutting the vegetables into little pieces.

  “While you were at your uncle’s funeral, I went on a date,” Twila said.

  “With DeAndre?” I asked. “He seems like a decent dude. Was he cool?”

  “Yeah, we laughed a lot.
He took me to Top Golf. I learned his whole dating history on the first date.”

  “How long were y’all out?”

  “He’s only seriously dated five people, so it didn’t take a long time.”

  “Can you see yourself being number six?” I asked.

  “Yes. He supported me being in therapy. I loved that.”

  “You told him you were in therapy? Did you tell him about the rape?”

  Twila seemed too smart at me saying the word rape as if I’d pinched her. If it bothered her, I wouldn’t say it again.

  “I did, and it didn’t bother him at all.”

  “Well, all right. He might be a keeper then.”

  Twila nodded. “I really like him. Even though the timing is bad.”

  “Did you give him some?”

  “No, but I wasn’t against it. He didn’t make the move, so I didn’t either.”

  “Even better.”

  Twila’s face scrunched into a grimace. “How is that better? What if I wanted to get some?”

  We both laughed at this. If she wanted to have sex, she would’ve asked, and then we’d be having a different conversation about how DeAndre had either put it down or hadn’t put it down.

  “Guess who I saw?” Twila asked.

  “I have no idea who you saw out of all the people in Atlanta.”

  “Your boy, Corden.”

  “Oh, was he out with his fiancée?”

  Twila shook her head. The grin on her face let me know she had some tea to spill, but I didn’t know if I wanted to sip it.

  “He was out with another girl?” I asked. “Oh, my goodness. I hope Corden isn’t cheating on Symone. They have a little girl.”

  “He wasn’t out with a girl.”

  “Okay, then what are you trying to tell me? He was out with a man?”

  “Men. He was out with a whole group of men.”

  “So what?”

  “They were all gay. He was with a crew of very flamboyant and boisterous queens.”

  “And so that means what? That he’s gay? Y’all gone leave that man alone.”

  “I don’t care if he’s gay. You know good and damn well I’m an ally. I just wonder why if he’s gay he doesn’t just live his life. I don’t like when gay men are with unsuspecting women.”

  “Well, that’s his business.”

  People had been trying to tell me Corden was gay for years. I rejected the conversation every time, for the same reasons. I didn’t care what Corden did with his penis as long as he gave me good business advice. Last time I checked, Corden was still good at his job, and was still advising me like the champ that he’d always been.

  “You don’t mind if one of your staff members is deceitful?” Twila asked. “’Cause this goes to his character.”

  “I don’t know that he’s being deceitful to anyone. You’re assuming he’s gay based on what you saw, and that was flimsy evidence.”

  “It was pretty substantial evidence, but okay. I can see you don’t want to deal with this.”

  “Don’t need to deal with it is more like it.”

  “Okay.”

  Twila took all of the smoothie ingredients and dumped them into the blender with crushed ice. Somehow, I didn’t think this was going to satisfy my hunger, and I was sure it was going to taste like dirt.

  Twila pressed a button on the blender to stop the whipping, grinding and chopping. I handed her two glasses and she poured the vomit colored smoothie into two glasses.

  “Bon appetit,” she said as she took a long swallow.

  I waited to see how her face looked after drinking. She smiled.

  “It’s good. Try it.”

  I closed my eyes and swallowed a mouthful. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I could definitely taste the vegetables, but it the banana helped. Perhaps I could get through one whole day, but I was gonna need a piece of chicken soon.

  “How’s your Aunt Sherrie?” Twila asked.

  “You already know that whole damn thing was a circus.”

  Twila laughed and shook her head. “Girl, your cousin was live streaming on Instagram and Facebook the whole time. I can’t believe the mistress showed up at the damn funeral.”

  “I know. Me and Sam kicked her out. Or, I should say, we nicely escorted her ass out. She was sitting in the back of the church crying and wailing.”

  “Oh, so he really showed up with the boyfriend activities, huh? Go head, Sam.”

  “Yeah. He said after he met my broke and raggedy ass family, he finally understands why I am the way I am.”

  “What? Bougie for no reason?”

  “I am not that.”

  “You are, but it’s not a judgment. I am too,” Twila said with a laugh.

  “We really connected, though. I asked him to move in so that he can rent out his place.”

  “Oh, snap. Y’all moving up to the shacking up level.”

  “Don’t say it like that. We have decided to cohabitate.”

  Twila shrugged. “No matter how pretty you say it, it means the same thing. Two unmarried people living together equals shacking.”

  “Damn, Twila. You’re just being a real joy snatcher, aren’t you?”

  “I’m happy for you. Does Sam moving in mean you want me to pack my shit and get out?”

  “Not necessarily, but how is the therapy going?”

  “I know who the guy is. Followed him and his family to church.”

  “The rapist? What? How?”

  “Traci gave me his info. He owns the brownstone in my subdivision. Has a wife and a daughter, I think. The little girl had his red hair.”

  “Why did you follow him?”

  “Shit, I don’t know. I was sitting there in the car watching his place and it just seemed the right thing to do.”

  “And now what?”

  “I think I may have to move. I can’t live there if he’s going to live there. I can’t see his ass on my morning jog. I can’t watch him walking his damn dog or playing with his kid in the park. It’s too much.”

  “I don’t see why you can’t just press charges. The statute of limitations on rape is fifteen years in Georgia.”

  “Come on, Hahna. Let’s walk that all the way out shall we? I was in a swingers’ room at a club, where pretty much everyone was engaged in sex acts. Even if he admits to having sex with me, he will say it was consensual.”

  “I mean you haven’t given me details about the event. I just don’t see why he should get away with it.”

  “He tased me. He used a condom. There was no proof of what happened to me, even then. It’s been two years. There’s definitely no proof now.”

  “Doesn’t Traci have cameras all over that club?”

  “Yes, but all that shows is that he and I both went into the room. There are no cameras inside.”

  “Seems like they want people to get raped, then.”

  “No. They do a background check on their people,” Twila explained. “Plenty of perfectly normal folks get rejected. He slipped through the cracks.”

  “So, he gets to have control over your life? You have to move to another house because of a rapist?”

  “Hahna, I know. It pisses me off too. I just haven’t decided how to handle it without having my business in the entertainment blogs and destroying our line sisters’ nightclub. You don’t think this would be bad press for them?”

  “Who cares about that?”

  “I do. I can’t ruin Traci’s club in dealing with this. Just let me . . . let me figure it out on my own. And don’t say anything to Kimberly.”

  “You still haven’t told her? She knows something is going on with you.”

  “I know. I’m gonna tell her. I didn’t want to weigh her down while she’s planning a whole life with Big Ron. She’s got enough on her plate.”

  “She would want to know this.”

  “I know it.”

  “So, tell her. Maybe not all of it. But some, so she can stop worrying about you.”

&nb
sp; “You’re right. I will.”

  Kimberly might be able to stop worrying with whatever little snippet Twila was going to share, but that wasn’t going to help me. I was full blown terrified about what was happening to my sister—mentally and emotionally. I hoped that DeAndre was someone who would lift her up and not drag her down even farther.

  I hoped he was perfect.

  Chapter 31

  TWILA

  I looked at the time on my phone and up at the restaurant door. I’d abandoned the green smoothie diet already and sat in my favorite sushi restaurant ready to fill my belly with smoked salmon and shrimp tempura. I’d also called DeAndre and asked him to join me. He’d said he had a client but would try to reschedule.

  I was about to pour a second glass of wine from the bottle I ordered when he walked through the door, still wearing his suit and tie for work. The sense of urgency on his face made me smile. I’d called and he had to get here for me.

  He sat at the table in front of me. Something was different about his face. What was it?

  “You’re wearing glasses,” I said.

  He reached up and touched them. “I forgot to take them off. They’re my computer glasses. I wear them to keep from tiring my eyes out from reading documents on the screen all day.”

  “They look good on you. You look like a chocolate Clark Kent.”

  “Not Clark Kent. Superman was getting all the hoes and poor Clark wasn’t getting no play.”

  “Except they were the same person. So . . .”

  “Sometimes a dude wants the girl to like the regular side of him. You know?”

  “You mean, you’d rather have me drool over the computer glasses than how much you can bench press?”

  “Exactly. But on the real, I’ll take either. Drooling is good either way.”

  “You got plenty women drooling over you, DeAndre. Stop acting like you don’t.”

  “None like you, Ms. Twila. None like you.”

  I bit my bottom lip to keep it from quivering. “Do you like sushi? What’s your favorite?”

  “We talking about the menu now? Conversation getting too hot?” DeAndre asked with a smile.

  “Maybe. Yeah. So, tell me what kind of sushi you like.”

  “Mostly anything with salmon will do it for me. You want to order for both of us?”