She didn’t miss the odd smirk that cracked her mother’s wicked face.
It’s because dad was poor…could do nothing for you. You sicken me. I always knew the truth but it took you this long to confirm it.
“Your father was not the person you think he was, Treasure. And this ain’t about him… It’s about you and Jackson.”
“How is that good for your grandson and daughter? What kind of example am I showing them to allow that sort of situation to go on, business as usual?”
“You’d show them that you can overcome almost anything, that you’re strong. What you did was weak.” The woman angrily grabbed another cloth from a small pile beside her and began the tedious task of making her perfect little squares once again. “Those kids need their daddy.”
“…And I needed mine, too. You killed my father with your ugly behavior, callous words. He died trying to make more money so you could be satisfied, but you are never happy, enough is never enough. He worked himself to death, and died of a broken heart.”
“You know what, Treasure?” Her mother’s brow rose but not her tone. “You’ve always been silly and emotional. You make poor decisions based on how you feel versus what’s best for you in the long run. I tried to teach you better than this, but you refused to listen.”
Treasure slowly rose from her chair and placed her purse over her shoulder, shaking her head. What a sad, pathetic little soul her mother was. I pity you.
“You know what, Mama? I have made choices using my heart and not my mind in the past. I did that, you’re right. Thank you for bringing that up. You, on the other hand, had no option regarding what you utilized to make your decisions, for one would have to have a heart in their possession in order to make a choice to not use it.”
“Why do you come over here, Treasure?”
She looked at the woman long and hard, the clock ticking and tocking strong and hard in the background.
“I honestly don’t know anymore.”
“Before you go, let me explain something to you. You’ve always looked at me strange for how your father and I lived our lives, and my response to the man. You accused me after the funeral of being cold-hearted and not caring because I hadn’t cried. I grieve my way and you grieve yours. You are a self-proclaimed daddy’s girl, and gullible as you were, you believed everything he handed you. If he had told you that the man on the moon was real and gave out toys to ghetto kids once a year if they acted right, you’d have believed that, too!” The woman huffed and got to her wobbly feet, moving like a jittering old washing machine. Her long gray sweater swayed as she made her way to the curio cabinet to remove a punch bowl. She set it on the table, her bottom lip quivering just so.
“Mama.” She lowered her head and fixed her gaze on the elaborate tan and tangerine rug with red swirls beneath her feet. She needed a focal point, something to rest her eyes upon that wouldn’t send her over the edge, make her buckle over in pain. “I find it upsetting that you will defend a man that treated your daughter like trash, but trash a man that treated you and your children like gold. I’ve never understood you, Mama.” Treasure slowly made her way to the front door. “And I don’t think you care enough to understand or get to know me, either.” It hurt for the words to come out, to utter the truth. It had been in her heart for years. Mama was a complex woman—one full of jealousy and resentment who kept a glass menagerie of strange thoughts in her head, fragile yet protected by her own lack of empathy. The tiny, jagged things were woven together with an even stranger purpose, one that no one seemed to figure out.
Where there was light, she became a shadow; trying to block its cast. Where there was joy and laughter, she transformed into an omen, a curse walking on two legs, harboring an internal smile as she delivered a poisoned dagger into the happy hearts of the ones she’d breathed life into. Where there was hopefulness, she created tiny shreds of despair, just enough to cause low self-esteem, pity and doubt. She’d been constructed of a thin, transparent shell, and where the soul of a woman was supposed to dwell, there could be found only misery.
Her mother remained silent as she gradually slid another hand towel from the pile, and turned it this way and that. Once again, Treasure felt abandoned, all alone, but this time, also free. Her father had died. Her brothers lived in different cities. Her husband was gone. Her son didn’t want much to do with her and now, she finally came to terms with the fact that the woman she’d tried to make love her since the day she drew her first breath, had left her to swim in shark-infested waters—expecting her to be okay with being eaten alive and soaking in her own blood bath.
Be okay…
Misery loves company… and you’ve closed up shop.
Mama’s love? Ain’t no such thing.
But why?
’Cause Mama don’t love nobody…
*
I can’t believe it. This guy is different. I can’t figure him completely out. –Sapphire Storm
Sometimes that’s not so bad. –FINDERKEEPER
You know, you might have a point there. –Sapphire Storm
I’m glad you like him and this is working out. –FINDERKEEPER
Me too. You know what? –Sapphire Storm
What? –FINDERKEEPER
I don’t think I would have given this a chance if it weren’t for you. –Sapphire Storm
Me? I didn’t do anything. –FINDERKEEPER
Sure you did. I told you I was afraid to date anymore. You said a while back that if that’s what I wanted, to be in love, have a relationship, then I had to take a chance. Funny, he told me the same thing. –Sapphire Storm
Life isn’t worth living without taking a few risks along the way. –FINDERKEEPER
True. He cares about what I have to say. I like that, need that in my life. I wish you’d date, too. –Sapphire Storm
Well, I did meet someone. –FINDERKEEPER
That’s great! WOW! LOL It must be the end of times because you actually told me something about yourself. –Sapphire Storm
It’s no big deal. –FINDERKEEPER
Actually, Mr. Cynic, it is. Tell me about her. –Sapphire Storm
Miss Cynicism, NO. –FINDERKEEPER
Not this again. (((insert eye roll))) Why not? –Sapphire Storm
Because, this is about YOU. –FINDERKEEPER
But we are kind of like friends now, right? –Sapphire Storm
Yes. –FINDERKEEPER
Then why am I the only one sharing? –Sapphire Storm
I am superstitious. –FINDERKEEPER
About what? –Sapphire Storm
Sean ran his hand over his face and closed his damn eyes. The old, nasty memories knotted his gut, swam up his chest, and flooded his gullet and mouth with the bad taste of yesteryear.
It seems like whenever I get happy about someone, and start talking about it too much with other people, it ends up crashing, getting fucked up. –FINDERKEEPER
Oh. I guess I can understand that. –Sapphire Storm
Yeah, so it’s not that I don’t want to tell you. It’s that I’d like for this to pan out first. I need more time to see what happens. –FINDERKEEPER
You really like her, don’t you? –Sapphire Storm
Yeah. I do. –FINDERKEEPER
That’s sweet. –Sapphire Storm
Tell me about this guy. –FINDERKEEPER
No. –Sapphire Storm
Why not? –FINDERKEEPER
Now you’ve made me superstitious, too. –Sapphire Storm
LOL. Ok. You’ve learned well. Let’s talk about something else then. –FINDERKEEPER
Like what? –Sapphire Storm
Something political or religious so we can argue. Everyone needs to have his or her first argument. We’ve yet to have ours. Makes me think you don’t care about me. –FINDERKEEPER
LOL! –Sapphire Storm
I prefer to disturb the peace IRL though. –FINDERKEEPER
IRL? –Sapphire Storm
I will send you a ‘How to Type Lazy In C
hat Rooms and IM’ book soon. –FINDERKEEPER
Lazy is a language? –Sapphire Storm
Yes, and I am fluent in it, so much so, I teach it at various universities but I usually only do half of the work required I’m so damn good at it. –FINDERKEEPER
LOL, Professor FINDERKEEPER, Expert on the Language of Lazy. –Sapphire Storm
And idiot on the language of love… Anyway, IRL means, ‘In real life’… –FINDERKEEPER
Maybe one day we can do that. –Sapphire Storm
Do what? –FINDERKEEPER
Meet in real life. –Sapphire Storm
This IS real life, Sapphire. Everything you told me is from your real life. No need for us to complicate things with eye contact and hand holding and real verbal dialogue. You know, silly shit like that… –FINDERKEEPER
LMAO…Well, it was just a thought. –Sapphire Storm
“The soul becomes dyed with the color of its thoughts.” That quote is from Marcus Aurelius –FINDERKEEPER
I know who it was… It’s from his book, ‘Meditations’ and it’s beautiful. I love that you know that. –Sapphire Storm
I love that you inspired me to follow my own advice and take a damn risk…and now I’ve met someone and she’s pretty important to me. –FINDERKEEPER
I am so happy for you. So is everything going how you want it to? –Sapphire Storm
Not as much as I’d like, but it’s not her fault. She works long hours sometimes. I do too, but our schedules don’t always jive. She’s got kids. But we talk quite a bit. It’s a time juggling thing, but we’re making it work. –FINDERKEEPER
Well, can you promise me something? –Sapphire Storm
No, I will not eat any corn. –FINDERKEEPER
LOL! No, will you promise me that once you feel more comfortable, and you aren’t as superstitious about it, you’ll tell me about your dates with her? –Sapphire Storm
I can’t promise, but I will consider it. :) –FINDERKEEPER
Well, I guess that’s a start. –Sapphire Storm
And a start is always better than an end. –FINDERKEEPER
Not always, but I’ll take it. –Sapphire Storm
That’s funny. You know, I will tell you something else, too. In my mind, when she and I first started dating, I thought that was a whole new beginning. It actually wasn’t. Know what this was, Sapphire? The end to my old way of thinking. It was always in me to be this way, you know, open to listening, even when I didn’t think I’d want to hear it. This wasn’t new. It just took someone special for me to uncover it… –FINDERKEEPER
‡
Chapter Ten
The ‘Drunk Brunch’ at Fatta Cuckoo was just what the artery clogger foodie that lived deep within Treasure ordered. After riding to Soho, they got on the train and laughed their asses clean off. She hadn’t been on the subway in months, but sitting there with Sean proved to be an event all within itself. He thrilled her funny bone like no other. That line of thinking went down a winding path, making her wonder…bringing all sorts of questions to her mind.
What if…
Never mind.
She should leave that notion alone or she’d go crazy. There existed enough confusion in her life already. She sure didn’t need more unanswered questions, more mysteries to deal with. Matter of fact, everywhere they went, Sean was the life of the party without even trying and yet once again he’d stolen the show. The man had the people around him on the train cracking up so hard, several individuals grabbed their cell phones and videotaped him, some screaming, ‘World Star!’ It was amazing how he could take almost any topic, turn it inside out, and make it absolutely hilarious, no matter one’s previous mood or the subject matter.
She meant what she’d told him several weeks earlier. He had a gift…
This event began when a man bobbed about on the train rocking to an unheard beat. There was no music playing, he wore no headphones of any sort, so it was safely assumed the poor guy in soiled clothing was like so many others that practiced such public behavior—either on some narcotic or mentally ill, possibly both. Rather than stare at the man, treating him like some walking sideshow attraction, Sean got up and began to beat box next to the guy, as if they were a duo, like Simon and Garfunkel. This only encouraged the deranged fellow’s behavior to dance harder and wilder, sporting a toothless grin across his sun-beaten, wrinkled brown face. The kicker happened when the dirty man paused, glared at Sean with a discerning eye hooked upon a gaze of disapproval, and said, ‘You off beat, man! Can’t you hear my snare drum?!”
Sean went on to apologize, his naturally hoarse, choppy voice saying just the right words. He talked fast, saying nothing, but his body moved faster as he swayed like an intoxicated fool, dancing to his own strange rhythms flowing forth from his rapidly moving lips. To add to it all, Sean was pretty good at ‘mouth music’, no doubt a fan of such musical style.
That thought brought certain images to her head… Crossing her legs tighter than two entangled cobras in the throes of fighting, her brain went there…
I can almost feel his lips on my pussy.
Her musings as of late had turned downright filthy after their mutual masturbation marathon, and she couldn’t seem to fend them off any longer. She spent practically every evening pleasuring herself to his image in her mind; the man deliberately drove her insane. He’d told her just days ago that he was going to punish her pussy when he finally got a hold of it…that what she was doing constituted cruel and unusual treatment. She explained that she didn’t trust herself in that department with him, that she knew if she opened her legs to him, her heart would follow… and his reply was simple:
‘I already have your heart, and you have mine. Give me some goddamn pussy…Trust that I’m gonna fuck you in the middle of the street if you keep stringing this shit out. Trust and believe THAT.’
Jarred back into the here and now when the train stopped, she concentrated on getting off and walking with her man to the restaurant, where she devoured a delicious French gourmet cheese sandwich. They sat in the restaurant, chewing on boiled peanuts he’d purchased on the way from some vendor she’d given the side-eye to, but the things were scrumptious. She felt like such a damn glutton, but hell, they were good and she wasn’t one to pass up on something salty and savory.
“So, ya having a good time?” he asked around a mouthful of egg and bacon fritter…his second one.
“You know that I am.” She smiled into his sparkling green eyes before taking a sip of her champagne. Yeah…it was that sort of date. What a fabulous place. As usual, the man thought outside of the box. With both of their schedules tighter than ever, he’d suggested they go to brunch on a late Saturday morning. It worked perfectly for her, for Asia and Brian had plans with friends and she didn’t have to pick out wooden flooring samples for Mr. Lambert until three that afternoon. This proved an easy breezy, relaxing day, with just the right amount of wind and sun to make a person feel alive but not overwhelmed from the weather. Stools in various vibrant and muted colors filled the place, giving it a somewhat whimsical air, but also a classy touch with the beautiful blown glass chandeliers that hung from just the right spots. Treasure could appreciate the design qualities; it had definite artistic flair that fit the eclectic menu seamlessly.
Sean seemed to gravitate toward places like this…artsy, alive, energetic. It seemed in contrast with how he presented himself to the world, but as she got to know the man, she realized his choices and opinions, as well as his history that he shared one page turn at a time, were quite in sync with each other.
“So.” He leaned back in his seat, crossed his muscular arms over his chest, and handed her a languid glimmer. “I thought maybe after this week, like one day soon, we could go to a comedy show or somethin’.”
“Oh, I’d love that. I haven’t been to one in a long while. Of course, with you, I don’t really need one.” She winked, causing him to return the favor. “Where did you have in mind? Is someone performing that you wanted to see?”
She took a gander at a chalkboard in the near distance with all of the specials listed along it.
They’ve got key lime pie… I may have to try some out.
“I saw that Dave Chappelle is gonna be at Caroline’s.”
“The comedy club in Time Square?”
“Yeah…wanna go?”
She bit her damn tongue almost in half like a delicious deli sandwich! First and foremost, she loved Dave Chappelle. If she were having a particularly ruthless day, one of that man’s stand-up routines would set her mood just right. Second, she had to stop herself from offering to pay after he blurted the damn man’s name. She knew those tickets would be steep; Mr. Chappelle was not some guy no one had ever heard of. She took pause, though, because something about Sean let her know that though he laughed and played the jester quite a bit, there was a serious side to him, a traditional side too, and he could be offended by such a gesture as her suggesting to foot the bill. It was him asking, and his recommendation…so she kept her concerns to herself.
“You don’t even have to ask. I love Dave Chappelle, Sean.”
“Cool, I’ll get the tickets, then. I met him once, cool guy.”
“I bet that was neat. I think he was in a restaurant I visited a couple of years ago, but I couldn’t get close enough to confirm it. Anyway, did you get to actually talk to him?” She ran her hand along the back of her neck, suddenly feeling a bit silly as she took notice of the way his sideburns would move as he chewed… Cute.
“Yeah, me and my best friend Kyle went ’nd saw him. He’s a fuckin’ riot.” He laughed, grabbing his glass from the table as if the damn thing had threatened to run away, and placed the rim to his mouth.
“That’s something I’d like to do with my girlfriend, too. You know,” she shrugged, “go to a comedy club. Erin’s always so busy though. We both are.”
“Kyle is too, and you already know I am. He is a broker, like I told ya, but we make sure to go out at least a couple times a month. It’s kinda our thing, you know? To hang out. We go way back.” He waved his hand nonchalantly in the air. “Been friends since the fifth grade. He is like another brother.” He nodded as if quickly replaying their history in fast motion inside of that curious brain of his, then sat back further into his seat. He grabbed the rim of his Yankees baseball cap and tipped it lower, almost covering his eyes as if he were in incognito.
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