The January Girl

by Goldie Taylor

  The judge kept nodding and saying “uhn uhn” to himself. His glasses slid down to the tip of his nose. Jack grew anxious. Etienne was stoic. At one point the day before, while sitting in Parham’s office as he directed him to change the beneficiaries on his life insurance policies and make Thandy the executor of his estate, Jack stumbled on a bit of remorse. He regretted his part in Etienne’s pain.

  He understood she had started drinking in some part due to him. She hadn’t had a drink in months, Finlayson assured him before he agreed to joint custody.

  “Mrs. Gabrielle, Dr. Gabrielle,” the judge started.

  “Yes, your honor,” they said in unison.

  “I understand you have come to mutually agreeable financial terms.”

  “Yes, your honor.”

  “And with respect to your sons, Jackson and Jacob, you have agreed to joint custody?”

  “Yes, your honor,” the attorneys said.

  “So noted.”

  There was a gap of silence.

  “It never pleases me to grant a petition for divorce. But that’s my job. I have reviewed this case and find that there are no legal barriers to granting your request.”

  The attorneys nodded.

  “It grieves me when there are children involved.” Arrington looked down at the paperwork and up again at the petitioners.

  “So granted,” he said, banging the gavel.

  Jack shook Parham’s hand and left the courtroom. Thandy was waiting in the vestibule. Jack grabbed her up by the waist and spun her around until she was dizzy.

  “Baby, it’s over,” he said.

  Etienne came out of the courtroom just in time to witness their jubilation. Jack’s head was still spinning from the impromptu twirl and he was wild-eyed and stumbling like a drunk. She wanted to put her hands around his throat. Finlayson led her away.

  Jack and Thandy left the courthouse together.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  The house was even more than Thandy had imagined, more beautiful than any she had ever seen. The interior was an eclectic mix of styles, including Italian Renaissance, French rococo, and contemporary African American. A woman’s hand was evident in the selection of draperies and various works of art that adorned the walls. A grand, wood-carved stairway erupted from the marble-lined foyer and curved to its zenith, opening to an overly wide hallway laden with priceless artworks. The stucco and stacked stone house had at least eight bedrooms.

  The carriage house boasted two more. The two-story master suite had a private Jacuzzi tub with cedar trim, a book-lined study, and an entry to the balcony. Outside, the lawn stretched from the curbside like an ocean of green. There were four buildings in all and Thandy was certain it would take months before she saw it all. The house staff, led by Flora Perez, busied themselves readying the house for their arrival.

  A second master bedroom was given to Montana. Jack filled it with all of her favorite things. He left a copy of the Physicians’ Desk Reference on her nightstand and framed the photos her grandmother had given her.

  All eight fireplaces were ablaze; new linens were placed on every bed; there were fresh vases of flowers in every room. It was January, but it felt more like springtime. The smells of jasmine and vanilla filled the house.

  “It’s beautiful,” Thandy said. “It’s just beautiful.”

  “My father built it fifty years ago. I’ve lived here every day of my life. Mother gave it to me as a wedding gift.”

  Thandy watched from an upper window as a driver continued unloading their bags from the car. She then went about hanging her clothes on the empty side of the expansive, custom-built closet.

  “We don’t have to stay here,” Jack offered as she hung her dresses. “We can buy another house. Just tell me what you want.”

  “No,” she demurred. “The boys need some level of consistency. When will they get here?”

  “I’ll pick them up later this afternoon. I’m sure it will be love at first sight.”

  Thandy looked into his eyes. “I love everything you ever gave breath to.”

  “And I love you for it.”

  Senora Perez spent the better part of the afternoon preparing paella, Jack’s favorite, while he went for the boys. Thandy lent her a hand. Together the women diced vegetables, shelled shrimp, and cleaned mussels, while Montana sipped cocoa in the keeping room.

  “Mom, are you going to cook all the time?”

  “As often as you want me to.”

  “Are you going to quit your job?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “What are you going to do? Be some kind of virtual, jet-setting CEO?” Montana joked.

  “Something like that.” Thandy smiled. “For a while anyway.”

  “How many children does Dr. Jack have?”

  “Two sons, Jackson and Jacob,” she answered. “Jack is twelve and Jacob will be six next month. And before you ask, I’ve never met them.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  Just after seven o’clock, the soon-to-be Gabrielle family sat for dinner. A bit sheepish at first, the boys could barely say their names. That changed when Senora Perez led them to the table of food. To their father’s delight, little Jack and Jacob quickly stuffed their mouths with yellow rice and sausage. Montana barely touched her food. Jack was concerned.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” Thandy asked.

  “When are we going?” Montana muttered.

  “Going where?” Jack asked.

  “To see my father. You promised.”

  “Well, I don’t know,” Thandy answered.

  “We can go next week,” Jack said.

  “But you’re on call,” Thandy said. “You’ve been out of the office almost a month.”

  “And a few more days won’t hurt. Did you get the clearance? Maybe Sloane can give us a hand.”

  “I’m sure he would,” Thandy said. “It’s okay to go back to work.”

  “Daddy, what’s clearance?” Jack Jr. asked.

  Jack couldn’t think of an answer right away.

  “It’s like the permission slip they give you at school when you go on a field trip,” Thandy answered.

  “Miss Thandy, are you going to take us on a field trip?” Jacob asked.

  “No, son,” Jack answered.

  “We wanna go!” twelve-year-old Jack chirped.

  “But this trip is for the big people,” Thandy said.

  “How come only big people get to go?” Little Jack pressed.

  “Just this time. Next time you can go. And you’ll get to pick where we go.”

  “Can we go to Disney World?” asked Jacob.

  “We’ll see. But only if you are good boys,” Thandy said.

  “We’ll be good!” the boys exclaimed in unison.

  Jack smiled. He was taken with the way Thandy answered their questions.

  “Do we have to call you Mom?” Jack Jr. asked.

  “Not if you don’t want to,” Thandy answered. “You still have a mom who loves you very much.”

  “I want to!” Jacob chirped. “You’re nice!”

  The family continued eating. Jack could only watch and admire Thandy as she ate.

  “Senora Perez? Are you available to watch the boys tomorrow evening?” Jack asked.

  “Sí, Dr. Gabrielle. Senora Gabrielle, is there something special you would like me to prepare for breakfast?”

  “No, no. Don’t trouble yourself,” Thandy answered. “I’ll see after breakfast.”

  “Where are you going, Mom?”

  “I don’t know. Jack?” she asked. “Where are we going?”

  “The Atlanta Medical Association Ball.”

  The idea caught her off guard. She’d never been allowed to go to public events with Jack. She was so accustomed to ducking and hiding in the shadows that she didn’t know what to say. And now she and Montana were living in his house. And the maid was calling her Senora Gabrielle. And little Jacob wanted to call her Mommy. She loved the very sound of it. Jack hadn’t propose
d, but for the first time she really wanted him to. She wanted to walk into the ballroom with her head held high and sit next to him on the dais. She hadn’t even allowed herself to imagine it before.

  “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “Yes, you do. I hope you don’t mind, but I picked up something this morning.”

  “How do you know what size I wear?”

  “I know everything about you.”

  The boys giggled.

  “Of course, Sloane and his wife are coming. We’re presenting him with a special honor.”

  “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

  When dinner was through, Thandy and Senora Perez took the boys for a bath. Thandy read them a story and after another round of questions about the field trip, they drifted off to sleep. Jack stood in the doorway listening.

  “Thank you, baby,” Jack whispered.

  “For what?”

  “For loving them,” he said. “And me. I know that I —”

  “Shhhh,” she said, placing her fingers to his lips. “It’s over now. We’re home.”

  Peering over his shoulder, she saw it.

  “Jack! You didn’t.” A flowing silk Versace gown hung from the bed’s canopy frame.

  “Try it on, baby.”

  “But, Jack, it’s too much.”

  “When you’re in love, it’s never too much.”

  Jack kissed her into the master suite. He kissed her kneecaps first, then worked his way up until she wet up the sheets with a hallelujah chorus. They made love for hours on end as their children slept down the long hallway. Satisfied that all was as it should be, they drifted off to sleep, too.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  Angel slid into a pair of snug-fit, lowrider Seven jeans. She faced the full-length mirror, half admiring the way the material embraced her curves, and half admiring that the jeans would not be Jack’s preference. He hated denim. She wrapped her very perfect breasts in a silk backless halter that revealed the cuts and curves she’d spent hours in the gym honing to perfection. Her skin was wonderfully bronzed and glowing, thanks to several sun-soaked hours lying nearly naked next to the lake. The incredible sight caught the attention of hotel guests—at least the men.

  “There is a God,” one said as he sipped a Long Island iced tea on the veranda.

  As she left the hotel room, Angel dropped her cell phone on the nightstand just in case he called. She didn’t want to be around if it rang. She didn’t want to care if it didn’t. He hadn’t called in weeks. Jack never once returned her messages.

  She headed down to the lobby bar for a nightcap. She needed a perfect stranger to look at her and say she had wonderful eyes. By now the bar was full of conference attendees and Angel was too good to miss. The getaway to Lake Oconee had been Stephanie’s idea.

  “All you need is money for the hotel room,” Stephanie advised. “Let the rest happen. The hotel will be full of perfectly willing brothas—at least a hundred of them.”

  Thanks to the annual 100 Black Men of Atlanta retreat, Stephanie was absolutely correct in her assumption. No wives or girlfriends would be present, and thus Angel would have her pickings.

  “You gotta get your numbers up,” Stephanie counseled. “Get back in the game.”

  Angel had been to the Ritz-Carlton at Reynolds Plantation only once before—with Jack. She was glad to be spending the night in a familiar hotel. It wasn’t the first time she’d left Atlanta in search of greener pastures. More than once, she’d jetted off to one conference or another in search of Mr. Right. But when it was over, she always felt empty. She’d convinced herself that Jack was Mr. Right. He didn’t have to give her everything, just enough. Jack came and went when he pleased. He gave her little and made it seem like the world.

  All she wanted now was to forget it had ever happened.

  After she got out of jail, she tried calling him. When he didn’t answer, she cried for days. Months of sneaking off to the beach and stolen morning cell phone calls from the garage were over.

  That evening, sitting at the bar, she began to remember in perfect measure how he had told her that she was his one true love, the only one who really understood him. How many bitches did he tell that to? She took another long pull on the wine and settled in. It was good. The view was perfect.

  “Well, hello there,” floated the smooth softly Southern voice over her shoulder. He ordered a glass of merlot for himself and started talking, about nothing mostly. The dark stranger was grinning from ear to ear. Angel glanced down at his shoes and decided he was worth some conversation. The dental work said he had money and he wasn’t wearing a wedding band.

  “I’m Howard Clemons.”

  “Angel Delafuenta. It’s nice to meet you,” she said, dipping her wrist.

  “The pleasure is mine,” he said, first kissing her hand, then letting his eyes wander over her bare shoulders. “What brings you to the Ritz?”

  “A little vacation.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m an accountant by trade,” she answered. “I own a boutique firm in Atlanta.” The lie had begun. It was the same lie she’d told a dozen times. Men don’t want needy women. “Are you here with the conference?”

  “I am. I’m on the board of the One Hundred Black Men,” he boasted. “So you could say this is my conference.”

  “I like a man who knows how to take charge.” She managed a grin and took another sip. The conversation went nowhere fast. The handsome stranger was suddenly called away by a colleague and returned only to excuse himself permanently. The second gentleman had recognized Angel from the nightclub and quickly informed his friend. She hadn’t heard the conversation, but knew immediately she had been the subject. There were too many familiar faces.

  “Men are like parking spots,” her mother used to say. “The good ones are taken. The only ones left are marked ‘handicapped.’ ”

  Deflated, she left the conference early and made the hour-long drive back to Atlanta in complete silence.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  Angel’s little shotgun bungalow seemed to get smaller every day. The toilet in the only bathroom was clogged and she hadn’t taken a shower, let alone washed dishes, in several days. She didn’t wake up that morning wanting to die. But all at once, she was tired, lonely, and feeling old beyond her years. She’d gotten out of bed a few times, maybe three or four, but for no longer than five minutes at a time. She shuffled through the dark house, then crawled back under the covers. Watching cars roll by through the slanted blinds, she remembered when she used to dream about things she thought were worth having, worth doing. It was always something. Reliving all that went bad and some of what went good made no difference to her now.

  Somebody, sometime after I die, will do that, she thought. They’ll gather around the kitchen table at Mama’s house and tell funny stories about me. They’ll laugh. They’ll cry. And then they’ll all forget.

  The painkillers and the two-liter bottle of water sat on the nightstand waiting. That was the plan. No note. Nothing to explain. Just take the pills and drift off into nothing.

  “Angel, are you in there?” a woman’s voice called through the mail slot. She heard keys jangling. Stephanie used a spare set to let herself in.

  “Girl!” she said as she rushed to the bed. “What happened? What’s wrong? I’ve been calling you. How was the conference?”

  “He’s gone,” Angel replied. She burst into tears.

  “Who’s gone?” Stephanie asked as she peeled out of her shoes. She climbed into bed next to Angel. Her belly was the size of a basketball.

  “Jack. He’s gone for good,” she sobbed.

  “But didn’t you meet some eligible bachelors?”

  “No. I felt like a pariah. Like I had a big red A on my chest.”

  “Girl, you look a hot mess. You better get up and move on. It stinks in here.”

  “I tried calling him, but he won’t answer. He won’t answer his cell phone and his secretary keeps
telling me he’s not there.”

  “Forget about him,” Stephanie said with a wave of her hand. “This is about you.”

  “I can’t. I just want to see him.”

  “He just got back from Chicago.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Doogie knows him.”

  “Seth? Why am I not surprised? I swear everybody I know is somebody’s cousin. When were you going to let me in on the big secret?”

  “I didn’t want to see you hurt. I thought you’d just find somebody new and move on. You always do. You’d be damn fine as hell if you took a bath. A little deodorant wouldn’t hurt.”

  Angel started crying again.

  “Doogie works for him.”

  “Please tell me everything.”

  “Okay, okay. Damn. Doogie said he went to Chicago right before Christmas, chasing after some chick.”

  Angel let out a deep moan.

  “He didn’t come back until yesterday. Stayed up there through the holidays. Doogie and the other doctors were scrambling to cover his call schedule. He said something about her granddaddy’s funeral in North Carolina.”

  “What’s her damn name?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do!”

  Stephanie sighed. “Fine. He said her name was Thandy Malone. She’s the president of some big investment firm in Chicago. Campbell and . . . Campbell-Perkins. Well, she used to be. I think she quit. Doogie says it’s serious and they’ve been together over ten years. They broke up last July right after you got back from Barbados. He went up there to get her back. That’s all I know.”

  “The hell it is! Tell me everything!” Angel demanded. Her eyes narrowed down to slits.

  “Doogie says he’s completely caught up with this girl. He even bought her a million-dollar condo.”

  “He never bought me shit.” Angel slid out of bed and pulled her laptop off the dresser.

  “What are you doing?”

  “There aren’t but so many Thandy Malones in Chicago,” she said, sitting on the bed and hoisting the computer onto her lap. “I’m betting just one.”