by Dr. Xyz
Big Daddy Thompson, the founder, loved fine art and devoted an entire floor to display his prized possessions. Wanting to share his collection with the community that had supported his business so faithfully over the years, he opened it up to the public.
To entice Nicola into coming to the funeral, Carlos “mentioned” that Thompson had just acquired originals by Romare Bearden and abstract artist James Little. Her love of art made her change her mind.
Carlos drove his mother’s blue Cadillac to the funeral. Ophelia was in the back of the car, quietly suffering. She already missed Eli.
Nicola sat next to Carlos in silence. She hated funerals just like she was beginning to hate her relationship with the “music mogul.” With Jonathan in the picture, the thrill of possible exposure brought with it an excitement that had helped fuel their tryst. Now that that was over…the only thing left to entertain her was Mr. Big Dick and his clinging ways.
She had stopped prowling restaurants, bars, and the internet for partners. Focusing on and nurturing her relationship with the two young men had helped quench her insatiable sexual appetite. Visits with the infamous Williams family served her purposes as well. All of her affairs had helped her in some wonderful way to heal. The despair that took up residence in the pit of her soul after she discovered Harrison’s secret, was now vanishing.
Nicola had reached a turning point in her quest to purge the misery of her tortured childhood, as well as Harrison’s affair. She pulled out her compact mirror to powder her nose. Ophelia’s bitchy reflection glared at her. Nicola smiled. You won’t have to worry about me much longer, she thought. After the funeral today, both Carlos and Jonathan would be history. Mama Ophelia could have both of her boys back.
Ophelia sat in the backseat of the car fidgeting, wishing that the funeral was behind her. As they passed by Tompkins Square Park, a view of the basketball court reminded her of her son. “I hope Jonathan makes it in time for the services.”
“Don’t worry, he’ll be here. One thing about him, he’s a man of his word. Very reliable. And you shoulda seen him at that game, Mother. He was magnificent. I’ll sure miss him when he goes away to school.”
“Me, too. He’s a great kid,” Nicola added.
Ophelia ignored Nicola, as memories of her making sexual advances at poor little innocent Jonathan at the concert flooded her conscience. Dismissing these disturbing thoughts and visions, Ophelia commented, “I’m so sorry I didn’t make it to his last game…I was…with Eli…I hope…I hope he’ll forgive me.”
“Don’t worry, he understands. Plus, there’ll be other games for you to attend. Did he tell you that the new expansion team in North Carolina, the one owned by Bob Johnson, offered him a spot after his high school graduation?”
“My boy is going straight to college. I don’t care what Bob Johnson offers him.”
“He’d be a fool to turn a professional team down that offered him mad money in the millions now, versus possibly getting injured within the next four years on a non-paying college team and missing his chance at the pros.”
“Maybe you have a point, Carlos. I don’t know.”
“’Course I do. After basketball, if he still wants to do the doctor thing…he could get a degree then.” Carlos laughed as he added, “Hell, he could buy himself a hospital with all the stupid money he’s ’bout to make.”
Ophelia’s thoughts drifted back to Eli. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with his ashes.”
Nicola suggested, “Well, he was an artist, a native New Yorker. Spread his ashes at the beach, Coney Island.”
Proud that Nicola had made such a logical suggestion, or rather happy she was finally breaking her sulky mood, he overly supported her suggestion. “Isn’t that a good idea, Mama? A great idea, don’t you…”
Still not settled with the fact that her son was dating such a low-class vixen, she snapped back, “Eli hated the damn beach, and hated Coney Island most of all; said it was too ‘common.’” She smiled to herself, feeling she had struck a target. Carlos was too stupid to see this woman for the piece of work she really was.
She was going to miss her time with Eli, but now she could devote more attention to her boys. Make sure they all get back on the straight and narrow. Especially Carlos. He was not himself since he fell for the tramp. His confidence level had slipped into the toilet. He was more agitated than usual; even snapped at her for the littlest things.
And the biggest tip of all was the nightmare. After that evening when she rocked her grown son to sleep, she knew he needed her help and support. After the funeral was over, she was going to insist he visit a counselor to talk about his problems. She was not going to take “no” for an answer.
Her boy Carlos. Who would think he would fall so hard and so stupid for a woman? Ophelia shamefully hung her head down low. Who was she to judge? She had loved Eli, a poster pin-up for the wrong man, all her adult life. But right or wrong…it was still the sweetest feeling she had ever experienced.
In the deep place she only visited on romantic moonlit nights she reflected back on the good times she had spent loving and being loved by Eli. She felt blessed by the time she shared with him in the end. No regrets. But Ophelia was determined to give Ms. Nicola a regret or two.
The quiet in the car was almost deafening. They passed St. John’s Hospital. Carlos took a cheap stab at making conversation. “Ms. Nicola, we are now passing by my birthplace. The famous St. John’s Hospital.” Realizing how very little he knew about Nicola, he inquired, “By the way, where were you born?”
Nicola looked away. She was going to avoid the answer, but something deep inside her wanted to tell the truth. It probably had something to do with her making this her last time with Carlos. “I wasn’t born in a hospital. They found me in the Nicola factory, a few blocks away from Kings County Hospital. My adopted parents named me after the building.”
Ophelia perked up. “What did you say?”
“My mother escaped from a mental institution, gave birth to me in the building, tried to kill me and then jumped out of the window.”
She turned around to smile at Carlos’s mother…hoping the story would horrify her. Seeing those sparkling eyes reconnected Ophelia to the past. This couldn’t be the same infant she’d help nurse back to health all those years ago; the beautiful baby girl she and Eli were planning to adopt?
Carlos held his breath. Though he tried, he could not utter a single word. He never had any idea about Nicola’s past.
Ophelia was in shock. She needed more information. “Your parents? Where are they?”
“Never knew my father and my mother. Like I said, they died when I was born. I was adopted by the Martins.”
“And your adopted family. Where are they now?”
Nicola, surprisingly calm during Ophelia’s inquisition, decided against full disclosure, smiled broadly, and said, “When I was twelve…they…they, uh…died in a fire. After that, I lived in a group home until I left at eighteen for college. End of story.”
Ophelia sat still, staring straight ahead. This was the baby girl she and Eli had fallen in love with. This piece of shit sitting next to her son, if fate had been different, could have been her daughter. Knowing and feeling the evil in the girl, she shuddered when she considered that maybe life had been less than kind to her.
If Eli hadn’t messed up that day, so long ago, they could have spared Nicola the horror she must have witnessed. Ophelia now knew that those beautiful brown eyes that had captured her and her husband so many years ago, held secrets…secrets that made this girl act out pages scripted by Satan himself. For the umpteenth time since she’d first met Eli, she cursed his soul. His weakness had once again brought grief to the people he loved.
Feeling genuine compassion for her, she admitted, “Nicola… I…I knew you when you were in the hospital. In fact, as crazy as it may sound now, Eli and I came very close to adopting you.”
“Now, wouldn’t that have been special.”
“
Yes, wouldn’t it have?”
Ophelia shared the entire story with them. How Tarik almost died thanks to Eli’s drug use. Trying to repress tears, Nicola maintained a cool, indifferent composure. She didn’t want to tip her hand that the tale of how she had missed being adopted by Eli and Ophelia had set off an emotional explosion deep down in her soul.
All things considered, Nicola knew Ophelia was a good woman. And as far as she could tell, had been a great mom. Ophelia rightfully didn’t like her because she knew she was screwing her son and nephew. There was no reason to expect a warm welcome from her. She respected Ophelia for protecting her family.
Nicola fought back a tear. Nobody ever protected her. It was only until she met Harrison, that she felt safe with another human being. Oh, yes. If Ophelia had raised Nicola, her life would be different.
But life was what it was and somebody, somewhere, was going to have to pay for her pain.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“I look like a grown man, don’t I, Daddy?’
“Yep…like a man, Javon.” Tarik readjusted his tie.
Javon looked so cute in his suit. They had decided to bring him along at the last minute when the babysitter fell through.
Tarik looked at the clock on the wall. They would arrive so late, it didn’t make any sense to leave. “Sherry, I’m sure it’s over by now. Maybe let’s just skip…”
“Now you know you have to go. These things never start on time. Just call up someone and tell them we’re on our way.” Tarik looked at Sherry and Javon. His family. He thought about how Eli had given up his family so easily. He still couldn’t fathom how a man walks away from the people you love most in the world. He could never abandon Sherry or Javon or the new baby Sherry and he were bringing into the world. He went over to Javon, picked him up, and gave him a big hug.
“Why you hug me, Daddy?”
“It’s ’cause I just love you. That’s all. I just love you.”
Sherry looked at her husband and thanked God for blessing her with such a good man.
The ceremony was at five. It was almost six o’clock. Javon had fallen asleep in the backseat. Deep in thought, Tarik drove slowly. Sherry had to nudge him once or twice to drive off after the traffic lights turned green.
“Are you giving the eulogy?”
“Who me? I didn’t know him that well. Mr. Thompson’s going to say a few words Mama prepared.”
“He wanted to be cremated?”
“Eli wasn’t fancy. He wanted no frills. He even told us not to claim the body so that he wouldn’t be a financial burden.”
“What?”
“Well, if no one claims the body, the corpse is sent to Potter’s Field.”
“But your mother wouldn’t have that, I guess.”
“You know, I finally figured it out about those two. I always kind of wondered why Mother was so committed to caring for Eli.”
“Well, she is a nurse, and she’s genuinely a compassionate person.”
“No. It went way beyond that for those two. He wasn’t just another patient. I saw them together and how they were with each other. I’d never tell Carlos or Jonathan this, but I’m certain that for my mother, Eli was the one.”
“The one what…he was a damn dope addict!” Immediately regretting what she said, she softened and added, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to talk about your father like that.”
“Let’s get this straight for once and for all. Pops was my father. Eli was a tragic person who figured out life too late and I’m cool with that, too. And you’re right; he was a junkie who didn’t give a shit for nobody but the next high. But I think…I mean…I know there was a time that he wasn’t a junkie. And that was the time he was the one for my mother. They were soul mates.”
Javon’s eyes opened, only to discover he was still trapped in a car seat. Impatient with the journey, he whined, “Daddy, we ’dere? We at the sleepytime place?” Sherry and Tarik stole shocked glances with each other. Evidently, he still remembered the explanation about death they’d shared with him a few months ago when he’d asked about his first daddy. The response that comforted him best was that death was a very long sleep; a sleep so good that you never wake up.
Sherry smiled and leaned back to readjust his belt. She patted his head. “We’re almost there, sugar pie.” Tarik looked at his son through the rearview mirror, marveling at how precious he was. “Baby, give my brother a call. Tell him we’re almost at the sleepytime place.”
Happy that he would finally see where his first daddy had fallen asleep, Javon clapped his hands joyfully.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
They held the service in a small intimate chapel on the second floor of the Thompson Funeral Home. Ophelia placed the copper urn containing Eli’s ashes on a prominent pedestal located in the front of the room. She looked at it for a few moments. Discovering Nicola’s identity had the unfortunate effect of reminding her of what an asshole Eli had been. The intense sadness she originally felt about his passing had mellowed considerably.
She shook her head and turned around to find the woman who should have been her daughter staring out of a window. The faintest trace of maternal urges compelled her to go to her. Comfort her in some way. At the very least try to understand and treat her like a human being who’d been shortchanged so early in life. Ophelia, not knowing Nicola’s full story, intuitively knew losing two parents at such a young early age and growing up in a group home had to be a hellish existence.
Instead of reaching out to her, she made a mental note to try to be civil with her when Carlos brought her around. Regardless of her history, Nicola was still a hoochie mama playing her son.
Nicola stared out of the window. She was numb. When Ophelia first explained how Eli’s negligence had stopped her from becoming their foster child and ultimately their adopted daughter, a rage penetrated through her that she hadn’t felt since she burnt down the Martins’ house with them in it. She wanted to reconstruct Eli’s ashes to throw him in the very same flames; only after first cursing him out for being so worthless.
Rather than dwell on the past, she immediately fell into her old pattern of burying her feelings and locking them away as soon as possible. Since Nicola made a habit of not crying over the things that did or didn’t happen, she forced herself to stop lamenting over past circumstances she could not change.
“A penny for your thoughts, beautiful.” Carlos grabbed her around the waist. Instantaneously, Nicola summoned her thoughts back into the present. A time she could do something with.
“Isn’t it wild? We could be brothers and sisters. I’m…I’m really glad old Eli messed up…the way he did,” Nicola lied to herself and Carlos.
Never questioning her lack of remorse, he kissed Nicola on the cheek. “I’d much rather have this kind of relationship with you,” he added, “…besides, from what you told me, life didn’t turn out too bad for you…now did it.”
Nicola smiled politely. He didn’t know about the hell she went through in her childhood. She hadn’t even told him the full story about why she and Harrison divorced. She looked at him as he stared at her with loving eyes. He was in love with a woman he knew nothing about. What a fool.
Carlos grabbed her hand and led her out of the chapel. “Follow me.” Jumping at an opportunity to abandon her gloomy thoughts, she obediently followed Carlos down a long hallway.
Waiting at the end of the hall next to the bathroom was Carlos’s destination, the gallery entrance. A sign hanging from a brass doorknob warned patrons not to enter. Construction of a new office was underway. Carlos eagerly proceeded through. “Don’t worry about the sign. I pulled a few strings,” he said, trying to impress a very unimpressed Nicola. “I know the owner. They’re just about finished with the work. He said it was okay to come in and check out the art.”
He held the small of her back as he escorted her into the gallery. From the entrance, Nicola and Carlos could see directly into a partially constructed room that was located at the rear of
the 1,000-square-foot space. The only furniture inside the owner’s new office was a beautiful chaise longue lined with genuine leather.
The “what-coulda-been” blues kept trying to bring Nicola down. She needed something to help pep her up. Help her stop thinking how Eli had blown her chance for happiness. When she saw the chaise longue, she immediately knew the biggest blues chaser in the world was hanging not on the wall but right between Carlos’s legs. She dragged him into the office, happy to discover the chaise longue was big enough for the both of them.
Nicola stood in front of Carlos and grabbed his crotch. With deliberate intent, she ripped down his zipper, reached into his pants and forced his instantly responsive rod into her welll-ubricated mouth.
Shocked, Carlos pulled back and stuffed his semi-hard tool back into the safe haven of his underpants. “Nicola, please, baby, please, not here. Not with my mama down the hall. Not at a funeral. Didn’t I give you enough this morning?”
“I’m too nasty for you, baby?”
“Yes, Nicola, I think you’ve hit my limit. We cannot fool around in the funeral parlor.”
Like a spoiled child, Nicola pushed out her bottom lip and turned her back on Carlos.
He zipped up his trousers and pulled Nicola out of the office. “Baby, I brought you here because of the art, okay? Let’s look at the nice pictures on the wall. I’ll take care of other things; later.”
Nicola looked at Carlos. He didn’t know it, but later would never happen for him. This would have been their last time together. After finding out about his mother, she wanted nothing more to do with him or his family.
But she did like the pictures that graced the walls of the modest gallery. Nicola was in her element. Next to sex, art was her biggest passion. Thompson’s collection was indeed impressive. Nicola stopped in front of an original painting by Annie Lee. It was called “Blue Monday.” A lithographed copy of the same picture hung in her dining room.
“I know how she feels.”
Carlos looked at the painting depicting a black woman sitting on the side of the bed with her head hanging down, obviously dreading the day ahead and contrasted her with the vivacious woman he had fallen hopelessly in love with.