Under Covers

by Rhonda Bowen

  Except maybe Jordan.

  But she couldn’t face him. Not tonight. Not with all her secrets exposed. Not while her world fell apart.

  She pushed the glass closer to the bottle.

  Eight months without a drink. She remembered a time she couldn’t go eight days without one. Times she couldn’t get out of bed because she was so drunk. No one knew how far down the rabbit hole she had gone. Only Natasha. Natasha was the one who had to hold it down when she couldn’t. She laughed out loud when she considered that for four years Jordan thought she didn’t drink at all. So many secrets.

  She ran her finger down the side of the bottle.

  God help her, she wanted that drink.

  Her cell phone rang. She didn’t even look at her purse. It sat on the table near the door. Talking to anyone right now was out of the question. She still needed to figure out what she was going to do. How was she going to find Camille? She had nowhere to start.

  The cell phone stopped. Then the landline by the refrigerator began. She glanced up at it then back at the bottle. Maybe she should go see Charlie’s cousin. Maybe she knew where in Trinidad her niece was.

  “Naomi, it’s me. Pick up the phone.”

  The answering machine had kicked in. But even the urgency in Charlie’s voice couldn’t move her.

  “Come on pick up....okay, fine. Just wanted to let you know that I talked to my cousin. She said they’re staying somewhere in Port of Spain. Probably with some friends of Andre near Victoria Square. She said Andre’s done this before and that Camille will be fine. My cousin said she even did it once. Camille will be back in three days and everything will be....”

  Naomi didn’t hear the rest as the bottle of vodka smashed into the phone, knocked the handset off the wall sending shards of glass and alcohol all over the kitchen floor. She walked over to the phone without thinking and grabbed the receiver.

  “Are you stupid?” she screamed. “My niece is about to swallow God knows how many pellets of cocaine. Cocaine, Charlie! If one bursts in her stomach, she’s dead. If they catch her at either airport, she’s dead. And even if she doesn’t get caught, the dregs of society that she is doing this for could kill her for any reason. So don’t call my home and tell me it will be fine. It will NOT be fine.”

  Naomi slammed the phone against the wall. It was only when she was about to walk away that she realized she stood amid broken glass with splinters all over her feet. The pain registered to her at the same time. She tried to move, but every step was painful. She was stuck - in more ways than one. The thought made her cry. Sobs flowed from her body as she leaned against the refrigerator not sure what to do about anything from the immediate situation of the glass, to the more serious problem of her sister, to the far-reaching issue of her marrying a man who really didn’t know her at all.

  She didn’t know how long she stood there crying. But that was where Jordan found her when he let himself into her apartment with the key she had given him.

  “Red, baby, what’s going on?” He rushed over to the kitchen where she stood crying. “What happened to your phone...why is there glass...that smell...is that alcohol?”

  Naomi began to explain. Everything came out in sobs and moaning. She tried to wipe the tears away but they kept coming.

  “Shhh, it’s okay honey, I got you.” Jordan stepped carefully through the glass in his shoe-clad feet. He slipped his hands around her and under her knees, lifted her out of the mess, and took her out of the kitchen.

  Naomi wrapped her arms around his neck. She cried into the collar of his black, Kenneth Cole shirt, not sure why he had come over, but glad he had. It was just like Jordan to show up exactly when she needed him. He always had perfect timing with her. Always.

  He laid her gently on the couch and began to move away. She tightened her grip on him, not ready to be away from the comfort of his arms yet.

  “I’ll be right back.” His soothing voice soft against her ear. “I just want to fix those beautiful feet of yours. Can you let me do that, baby?”

  She nodded and released him long enough for him to leave the room. He returned with tweezers, a warm cloth and ointment. Jordan sat at one end of the couch. He moved her feet into his lap and patiently removed the splinters, one by one, from her soles. She watched in awe as he touched her feet gently. It wasn’t as if she had beautiful feet either. They weren’t hideous, but they were rougher in a few spots from too much walking barefoot. But Jordan didn’t seem to care. His fingers swept over each part, as he made sure he got all the glass out. Naomi studied his form; the unhurried expression on his face, the way he was at ease with every part of her, her heart ached. She didn’t deserve this man. And when he finally figured it out, he would break her heart.

  “I have to tell you something.”

  He placed a dab of ointment on his fingers then began to smooth it across the sole of her foot.

  “I’m listening.”

  She sighed. It was hard to focus as he lightly massaged her feet like that.

  “I used to...I was...I am an alcoholic.”

  His hands paused, but he didn’t look up at her. After a moment, he continued his light touch.

  She ran a hand nervously through her hair. “Pretty much since college, I’ve been what they call, a functional drunk. I could drink all night and still show up for class the next morning. I would feel like trash but I could get through the day. I toned it down a lot when I started Street Life. But last year it…it got really bad. For a few weeks, Natasha pretty much had to take over.”

  He frowned. “Was that around the time we...”

  “Yeah.” Naomi said. She remembered how destroyed she had been during the two months she and Jordan had broken things off. She had gone days without being sober.

  “After that, I realized I needed serious help and I saw someone. I’ve been completely sober for about eight months now.”

  He switched feet then began his routine again. Slather with ointment, light massage to her heel, instep, then toes. He seemed to be working through what she just told him.

  “What about tonight?” he asked.

  “That was just an old bottle,” Naomi said. “I’ve had it for eight months, just to prove to myself that the alcohol had no hold over me. I didn’t drink any tonight. I just...threw it against the wall.”

  “Wanna tell me why?”

  Yes.

  No.

  Naomi sighed.

  “Camille hasn’t shown up, Jordan,” Naomi began. “And I feel...I know that she is in trouble.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She lied to me about doing summer school,” Naomi continued, sticking with the safe information. “I went over there and her dorm room was cleaned out. Her RA said she had already checked out for the semester.”

  “So maybe she decided to commute,” he leaned back against the couch. “Or bunk with friends.”

  “Then why did she cash the check?” Naomi asked. “Where’s the money I gave her to pay for the extra weeks on campus?”

  He had no answer for that.

  Jordan was the youngest of his siblings. The only boy of his parents’ three children. He didn’t really understand what it was like to be an older sibling. To be responsible for someone younger than him the way Naomi felt responsible for Camille.

  “What about your mom?”

  Naomi shook her head. “She doesn’t know where she is either.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes again as she thought about what her sister could be doing at that very moment. Camille was in a country she didn’t know with a man who was willing to use her body as a transport vehicle for illegal substances. To him, Camille would be as valuable as the street value of the drugs she was able to carry. No doubt, if things went south, he would ditch her and leave her to sort things out on her own. If that was the case, there was no one Camille could call. It wasn’t like she had grown up in Port of Spain like Naomi and Nigel had. She had only been there a few times. She barely knew the family they
had living there. She would basically be alone.

  “I can’t stop thinking about what could happen to her.” Naomi’s voice shook as she tried to hold back the sobs. “What if someone’s hurt her? What if she needs help but can’t get to anyone? What if she’s suffering all alone? What if...”

  Jordan moved to Naomi’s end of the couch. He gathered her into his arm as her sobs stole her words.

  “Shhh. It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s going to be okay.”

  She wanted to believe him, but it was hard. She had so little faith in life turning out well anymore.

  She heard him sigh before he spoke again. Then he did exactly what she expected him to do.

  “Dear Father, we place Camille in your hands. You know where she is. Keep her safe. Bring her home. We ask you because we know You can. Amen.”

  Naomi’s faith was more of a second thought. But Jordan’s was a way of life. There was nothing that He didn’t pray about - didn’t seek God’s guidance on. But his way was very practical and to the point. He treated His faith like He did life. Everything was either black or white. It was either truth or a lie. You either believed that God could take care of everything or you didn’t believe in Him at all. Your faith was either going to be the center of your life or not a part of it. In his undemanding way, he was always steady. Always sure. He was everything Naomi, with her doubts and second-guessing, was not.

  “Thank you for that,” she said.

  “I know you’re almost certain something is wrong,” he said against her hair. “But I believe she’s going to be alright. No matter what she’s gotten herself into, God will keep her safe.”

  Naomi pulled her legs up under her. She felt safe nestled in Jordan’s arms as they sat in silence.

  “How many times have we been here like this?” She asked after a long moment. “Curled up in each other’s arms, me worrying, you praying?”

  He gave a short chuckle. “More than a few.”

  “Like the day I put my house back on the market,” Naomi said. “Or the day you decided to leave the agency and go independent.”

  “The time after the accident, when I had to have the MRI.”

  “Oh God,” Naomi groaned. “I was really worried for that one.”

  “Yeah, you were.” He rubbed her arm slowly, his mouth curved into a small smile. “You would have thought you were the one having the tests.”

  “It sure felt like it,” Naomi said.

  “And of course, the month after we got back together,” Jordan continued. “Right before I asked you to marry me.”

  Naomi smiled for the first time all evening. “I think that time, you were the one worrying, and I was the one praying.”

  Jordan chuckled. “Yeah. I think you’re right. I was so worried I would mess things up again...”

  “And I prayed that I wouldn’t,” Naomi said.

  He tipped her chin up to look at him. “I am glad you said yes.”

  She rested her hand on his cheek, traced the curve of his strong, taut mouth with her thumb. “I’m glad you asked.”

  She eased him towards her, pressed her lips against his for a moment before opening up and letting him in. This man, he was enough.

  “I am sorry I didn’t tell you,” she whispered against his mouth.

  He rested his forehead against hers. “You can always trust me, Red. You know that right?”

  She sighed. She wished she could say yes. Wished she could be that sure. Instead, she sealed the question off with a kiss, and left the answer for a time when it would be what they both wanted it to be.

  Chapter Seven

  “Check in is now open for Flight BW 521 to Port of Spain. Passengers for this flight, if you have not yet done so, please proceed to check-in at terminal four.”

  Naomi stood at the sound of the announcement and reached for her single piece of carry-on luggage.

  “Naomi, this is B.S. and you know it. How can you leave like this without telling Jordan?”

  “And what exactly should I say to him, Natasha?” Naomi hoisted her oversized purse onto her shoulder. “Hey baby, I’m going to Trinidad to look for my niece who may or may not be planning to stuff her gut with drugs to smuggle into the country. And oh, by the way, when I say niece, I mean Camille, who is actually not my sister but the daughter of my incarcerated brother whom I never told you about.”

  “Listen, I told you years ago to tell Jordan about Nigel,” Natasha wagged a finger at her friend. “You were the one who was like, oh we’re just dating, it doesn’t matter...”

  “Because back then we were just dating and it didn’t matter...”

  “And yet here we are, four years later with you engaged and still lying to him about it.” Natasha took a deep breath and shook her head. “You cannot possibly think there is any way this is going to end well, Naomi.”

  Naomi rolled her luggage behind her as she headed to check-in for her flight.

  “Natasha, you’re making way too big a deal about this,” Naomi tried to sound rational. “The way I see it, I’ll be in Port of Spain by midday, sort this crap out in twenty four hours and be back by Thursday night, three whole days before the wedding.”

  “And how exactly do you plan to find your sister whom you didn’t even know was going to Trinidad and has a twenty-four hour head start on you?” Natasha’s heels clicked as she walked along behind Naomi. “I know Trinidad is small, but it’s still more than 5000 square miles with over a million people. You got some special resources I don’t know about?”

  Naomi wrinkled her nose but didn’t look at her friend. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?” Natasha echoed. “Like wha...”

  Natasha grabbed Naomi’s arm so suddenly, she nearly fell on her behind. But before Naomi could protest, Natasha had whirled her around to face her.

  “Naomi, please tell me you didn’t....”

  Naomi couldn’t hold her friend’s intense gaze. “I had to...”

  “Oh my God...” Natasha seemed to lose her strength as she sat down hard on Naomi’s suitcase.

  “He’s a police officer, a Sergeant,” Naomi protested. “He can help me find her...”

  “He can lead you off a freakin’ cliff,” Natasha hissed. She stared incredulously at her friend. “Are you seriously this dense that you would even consider having anything to do with that man again?”

  “’Tasha, he’s not that bad....”

  “Not that bad?” Natasha screeched. “Have you lost your long term memory? Do you remember what happened ten months ago? I almost lost you!”

  “That wasn’t his fault....”

  “It was completely his fault...”

  “But things are different now,” Naomi protested.

  “They always end up the same when he is around,” Natasha argued. “It was like that in college, and it was like that last year when he came to visit.”

  “But I am different now,” Naomi insisted. “I am not that girl anymore.”

  Natasha shook her head. She dug into her purse. “I can’t deal with this. You want to pour your life down the drain again fine, but someone else will have to supervise it.”

  She pulled out her cell phone and dialed. “I don’t have the energy to watch you do that to yourself again. I’m calling Jordan.”

  “No!” Naomi grabbed Natasha’s phone from her fingers. “No. He can’t....I can’t....not Jordan.”

  “Why? This is your husband-to-be,” Natasha snapped. “He should know about this. Does he even know what happened last year?”

  “Yes,” Naomi said, finally able to win some points back with her friend. “I told him last night. About the alcohol, about how bad it got.”

  “Finally,” Natasha said, only slightly relieved. “Did you tell him about the alcohol poisoning?”

  Naomi closed her eyes and shuddered as the memory washed over her. “I told him it was bad and that I got treatment.”

  Natasha stood up and touched her friend’s arm. “Then Nay-Nay, why stop there? Why not tel
l him everything? This is your window to come clean, your opportunity to put it all out there and let him prove that he is the man we know he is, that he is going to love you no matter what.”

  Naomi was tempted. Oh boy was she tempted. And that temptation had never been stronger than last night. She had sat on her couch in Jordan’s arms and talked to him until two in the morning. They talked like they used to back when they first got together. Before they fell into the routine of being together, before their careers, their lives and even their wedding plans made them forget how much they enjoyed just being with each other.

  It had felt like the night when they first met. They had slipped out of the barbeque and took a three-hour walk around the neighborhood while they talked about anything and everything. Last night had been like that.

  Despite all that, Naomi had not told him. And even an hour after he left, as she purchased her ticket online and packed her suitcase for Port of Spain, still she had kept him in the dark. Why? Because Nigel was right. She was afraid to lose him. And she would lose him. Maybe they could wink at the alcohol abuse, but there was no way his family would allow him to marry someone with a brother in prison, a niece attempting to smuggle drugs and all the other baggage that came with the Naomi Savoy package. Not with all the political aspirations they had for him; aspirations that Jordan said he didn’t want now, but might want later. Her cloudy past would make that impossible for him and their end would be inevitable. And she wasn’t sure she could handle the stress of finding her niece while dealing with the stress of having lost the man she loved.

  Naomi looked away from Natasha and shrugged. “I don’t want to tell him like this. Not with so many things hanging in the balance. I’ll do it before the wedding, when I come back.”

  “I won’t lie for you,” Natasha warned.

  Naomi nodded. “I know.”

  Naomi slipped her purse off her shoulder and rested it on top of her suitcase.

  “Hug me, tell me you love me and wish me luck.”

  Natasha rolled her eyes, as she put her arms around her friend.

  “God, why did you give me this crazy stubborn woman for a best friend?” She murmured as she held her. “Please keep her safe, keep Camille safe, and help them to find each other before either of them gets irreparably hurt. And please help Naomi to trust You, trust that if she is honest with the man You gave her, that You will not allow her heart to be broken. We thank You. Amen.”