My Dusk My Dawn

by Henrietta Georgia

  As I walked down the corridor I heard brusque footsteps behind me before I felt a firm hand on my shoulder. Jude.

  “Temwani. Nice of you to join us today. Where’ve you been?” he asked, his cockney English accent sharp and direct. His dark brown hair slightly tousled, the grey suit he wore brought out the same color in his eyes.

  “Indisposed,” I replied.

  “Care to share?” he asked.

  “No,” I said firmly.

  “Alright then,” he replied. “You either tell me now, or I find out for myself soon enough.”

  “Leave well enough alone, it’s none of your business Jude,” I reasoned. The last thing I wanted to do was to talk to him about what had happened that night with Duayne. Jude was a born prosecutor. He wouldn’t let it go, even if any action pursued was for my benefit but at my expense.

  “You know Duayne came ‘round here, looking for you,” he claimed, leaning against the wall a little too casually.

  My throat felt tight at the mention of Duayne’s name. “Really?”

  “No, not really,” he said. “But now I know your disappearing act had something to do with him.”

  I kissed my teeth in response. “Jude, I wish you’d quit getting into my business. This hasn’t got anything to do with the job I have to do and my performance in this job.”

  He took his prescription glasses off, his stone grey eyes serious and concerned all at the same time. “Teme. I’ve known you all of 5 years, I’ve mentored you, I consider you to be a close friend of mine, and this is the best you’re gonna give me?”

  “Jude, it’s complicated. The less I tell you the better off I’ll be, and the better off you’ll be.”

  “How’d you figure that? How about you let me reach that determination on my own?” he suggested.

  “No. The less I say the better,” I resolved.

  “Okay. Guess I’m going to have to find out what happened on my own.” Annoyed and suddenly restless, he added, “Jensen wants to see you. Sooner rather than later,” he warned. “I’ll catch you later,” he said as we parted ways by the lift. He took a left turn, heading towards the client conference room, while I headed right.

  I decided to stop by my office before I went up to see Jensen. The mountain of files that greeted me on my desk was a welcome distraction. I looked forward to being busy, and in my busyness I hoped I’d forget Duayne and all that he’d done.

  My office was the same as when I’d left it last, save for the new files that had been left there, likely by Ernesto or Jude. I flung my jacket over the chair and immediately started perusing the file on the top. A dangerous driving under the influence charge resulting in manslaughter. The defendant was a 17 year old girl. Trial in eight weeks. I’d barely sat down at my desk when I heard a knock on my door.

  “Come in,” I said.

  Ernesto. He walked into the room with his trademark swagger and legendary presence that some would say could move mountains and cause oceans to swell. As senior prosecutor for the Jamieson County District Attorney’s office, Ernesto was a force to be reckoned with.

  “You’re back. Where have you been Cariño!” he asked, approaching me and giving me a hug and a kiss on either cheek. “I told you a long time ago the man was bad news,” he added, not giving me a chance to reply on where I’d been. “How are you.”

  “I’m fine Ernesto.”

  He shook his head in response, his perfectly coiffed black curls shaking along. “I can tell when you’re lying. Don’t lie to me. Nunca me mientas. Never lie to me.”

  “I can’t talk about this Ernesto. Not with you. Not now.” If he found out what Duayne had done, he’d be out for blood. After all, he’d made a career out of prosecuting the worst of the worst, and doing so successfully. Duayne was one of the worst.

  “Okay,” he said, sharply turning from me and pacing the room as he did when he was preparing pleadings in a case. “So, if you won’t talk, shall we get the police to bring him in so he must talk?”

  “No,” I replied, almost breaking down in tears. “No más Ernesto. Let it rest. I can’t do this right now.”

  “Okay,” he replied, clearly disappointed at my decision to not lay charges on Duayne at this time.

  “At least you’re safe,” he stated, the pacing coming to an abrupt halt.

  I nodded in response.

  “You been back to your place?” he asked sharply.

  “No. I don’t plan to go there for a while. Not for now anyway.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “Daniel…”

  He looked at me with a trace of disbelief. “Perhaps I should screen this man before you go any further?”

  You’re too much, Ernesto. “No. That won’t be necessary. Daniel’s alright.”

  “Daniel Brennan?” he asked.

  “Yes. You know him?” I asked, surprised.

  “Yes. Do you remember that case I had where the two sisters were accused of murder and the defense attorney was successfully able to argue diminished responsibility?”

  “Yes.” I vaguely recalled it.

  “Daniel was the defense attorney,” Ernesto stated. “Brilliant wordsmith. One of the finest legal minds. Then he got suspended.”

  My stomach did an unexpected cartwheel at the mention of Daniel’s suspension. While I’d never seen Daniel in action as an attorney, I suspected his arguments would be on point. That coupled with his charm and way for words, I could only imagine how persuasive he could be. Ernesto never lost a case. Daniel must’ve been good.

  “Be careful,” he warned.

  I hated Ernesto’s warnings. He happened to be right most, if not all of the time.

  “Okay. Next time you’re in a bind, go to a bar. Any bar in the State of Texas, Louisiana or Georgia. Ask for a friend of the Brotherhood.”

  “The what?”

  “The Brotherhood. The Brotherhood of El.”

  What?

  “Whatever situation you’re in, ask for the Brotherhood of El. They’ll know what to do. They’ll fix whatever situation you are in,” he promised. “Just don’t say you heard that from me.”

  I didn’t know whether to thank him or harp on him for presuming I’d be in a bind again, but I thanked him in the end. The thought of a group out there to help had me hopeful but a little scared. Who were they and why did they do what they did? What exactly did they do to fix things? Why was Ernesto insisting on secrecy? I wondered. Apart from Daniel, could I have been helped that night? No. You didn’t even know they existed.

  “No need to thank me now. Thank me when that ex of yours is behind bars where he belongs,” Ernesto said, his deep tenor voice as unforgiving as the look in his eyes. “He didn’t deserve you,” he added. “Jensen needs to see you by the way,” he reminded me. “Don’t delay.”

  “I’ll see her as soon as we’re done.”

  “Great,” Ernesto said, absently examining some of the files in the pile on my desk. “I’ll be in my office if you need me. I won’t be needing you this afternoon, so you can take the afternoon off if you wish,” he advised.

  “I’ll be fine to make it through the day,” I responded. “No te preocupes Ernesto, I’m fine.”

  “You say you’re fine, but I feel you’re not fine,” he stated. “Come back when your soul’s ready,” he said, in such a way that my heart fluttered. He genuinely cared about what happened to me. “Anything you need, I’ll sign off on it,” he offered. “Jensen does not conduct my matters, I do. If Jensen has an issue with you, call me.” Placing the last file he perused down, he squeezed me lightly on the shoulder then left my office.

  I went through a few more files for an hour or so, then made the move to go and see Jensen, the District Attorney. By the time I got up to see her, she was ropeable. The expression on her face told me from the outset that our conversation was not going to be pleasant.

  I somehow knew what she was going to say before she said it. Heart in my throat, I held back tears and listened to her scathing r
emarks on process and reputation.

  “Your story was blown out all over the media. Your personal life should be just that. Personal. I don’t give a rat’s tail about who, what, when or why, I just care that you come in here, perform, and do your job. You have just one job, and generating unwanted media attention isn’t a part of that job. I hope I’ve made myself clear,” she fumed.

  “Yes, you have,” I replied.

  “I don’t want a repeat of this,” she stated. “Next time…”

  “There won’t be a next time,” I quickly interjected.

  “Good,” she stated. Looking me up and down, she added, “You look well.”

  Don’t pretend you care, I thought. “Thank you. Was there anything else?” I asked, eager to get away.

  “No.”

  “Alright then. I’m onto that brief Ernesto has carriage of. I won’t disappoint you. I’m sorry for any inconvenience caused to your office.”

  “Good,” she replied flatly. “I’m glad we have an understanding.”

  Turning to go, I couldn’t wait to leave her presence. I walked away, softly closing the door behind me. As I stood there in the hallway, I wanted to retreat and be alone and cry, but I couldn’t. The mountain of files on my desk would see to it that I didn’t, and for that, I was grateful.

  The lift couldn’t come fast enough as someone approached to queue up with me.

  “Temwani! Long time!” I turned to see Malik, a prosecutor I’d worked with closely in my junior years. I’d come to regard him as a big brother. He was originally from Sudan, and stood a neat 6 feet 10 inches. His warm brown eyes reminded me he was someone I could confide in.

  “How are you?” he asked, genuinely concerned, in stark contrast to Jensen’s attitude.

  “I’m doing okay,” I lied, trying desperately to hold back tears.

  “No phone call, no nothing…,” he noted. “You know, you could’ve called to let me know how you were. I could have smoothed things over with Jensen for you.”

  “I hear you, but I just didn’t want to burden anyone with the weight of my problems.”

  “And I hear you,” he replied. “You wouldn’t have heard any complaining from me, but I guess you didn’t know that.”

  I sighed and shrugged in response.

  “Do you want to talk about what happened?” he asked, his deep brown eyes imploring me to say more.

  “No,” I quickly responded.

  “Okay,” he said, stepping back as the lift had finally arrived. “After you,” he offered as the doors opened.

  Jude was in that lift. Not again - twice in one day.

  “Temwani,” he stated, “I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

  “It can wait,” I told him. I’d heard from Toni that he’d been saddled with a lot of my files in my absence. He wouldn’t have been happy. Then again, he might have been. He loved sinking his teeth into interesting files.

  “Okay,” he said begrudgingly. I knew I would have to make time to see him specifically. I just couldn’t do it today.

  “Welcome back,” he stated, giving a quick wave without turning as he exited the lift and walked on, presumably to Jensen’s office.

  “I told you Duayne was no good,” Malik said as the lift closed.

  “Tell me about it. Seems I was the last one to know,” I said regretfully.

  I was relieved to be back in my office again. It would soon be time for lunch, but I planned to barricade myself in and get through as many files as I could before calling it quits for the day. As I sat down at my desk, the fragrance of fresh flowers caught my attention first, before my eyes focused on the bouquet of white peonies and beautiful cornflowers in a square vase which rested on my table. My heart swelled. Daniel. I opened the greeting card and read the note:

  Keep your head up,

  D. xxx.

  I immediately picked up the phone to call Daniel. He picked up on the first ring.

  “Baby, thank you for the flowers,” I started.

  “What flowers?” he asked.

  “Oh, so it wasn’t you that sent me the flowers I have sitting on my desk?”

  Silence met me on the other end of the line. “Babe, I do have flowers waiting for you here at home, but I haven’t sent you any flowers at work.”

  “Oh, okay,” I said, somewhat disappointed. “I just assumed it was you who sent me these… the card was signed off with the initial D.”

  “Duayne?” he asked.

  My heart sunk. “No. I doubt it. Duayne never bought me flowers. Plus the message said, “Keep your head up.” Doesn’t sound like anything Duayne would say.”

  “Well, I’d like to take credit for having sent you those flowers, but I can’t. When I do sign off with my initials only, I use D.J., J being the first initial of my middle name.”

  “Hm. I thought your middle name started with T?” I asked.

  “As in?”

  “Trouble. I thought you said Trouble was your middle name?”

  Silence ensued then, “Oh, you killed it, babe,” he said, laughing gregariously as he recalled the conversation we’d had earlier.

  “Got you.” I chuckled at the mere fact that I’d made him laugh so hard. “How’s your day been so far?” I asked.

  “Good, nothing to report. Yours?”

  “I don’t know where to begin,” I told him.

  “Sounds like you’ve had a tough one. How about I take you out for lunch?” he proposed. “Or perhaps I could pick you up earlier than planned?”

  “You read my mind,” I replied. “I’ll work through lunch, and we can have an early dinner.”

  “Sounds awesome,” he stated.

  We said our goodbyes then I hung up the phone. He would be picking me up in a few hours. I swiveled in my chair and gazed at the beautiful floral arrangement. If it wasn’t Daniel who’d sent them to me, and it wasn’t Duayne, who had taken the time out to send them to me?

  After such a taxing day, it felt wonderful to come home and melt in the embrace of a man who loved me so much. Who wanted me so much. Who seemed to stand to bear the weight of the world on his shoulders. It felt as though we were fated, he and I.

  “I’ve got just the perfect thing for you,” he announced. “Take a seat,” he commanded, motioning towards the armchair. “Put your feet up,” he ordered, kneeling and slipping my feet over onto the foot stool. “I’ll be back in a moment,” he promised, walking away with a spring in his step.

  I sat back and felt my body mold into the chair. I didn’t realise how exhausted I was until then. I closed my eyes for a brief moment. In the distance I heard the shaking of ice and drink in a handheld mixer. He was doing up a cocktail.

  Trying not to drift into sleep, I sat up and reflected on the day. As much as I hated interacting with Jensen of late, I enjoyed work as a lawyer. I enjoyed being a lawyer and mingling with other lawyers, I enjoyed being a part of the administration of justice. For a moment, I felt a pang of sadness when I wondered how Daniel felt, having had to give up the practice of law momentarily following the suspension of his license.

  He returned with two Mojitos which he placed on the side table to the right of me. In an abrupt move, he straddled the footstool, swept my feet up into his lap and offered me a foot rub. Conveniently, a small towel and some lotion lay on the floor, in a wicker basket next to him. Everything had been prearranged. He whisked up the bottle of lotion and quickly poured a generous amount onto his hands and my feet.

  I initially resisted, but he insisted. “Tell me about your day,” he implored, smoothing the lotion into my skin and rubbing it in, in a circular motion. His hands were strong and firm, making the touch that more heavenly.

  I filled him in on Jensen’s tirade, to which he replied, “Pay her no mind. She’s probably acting the way she is as she might think you’re gunning for her job.”

  “Right.”

  “I’m being serious,” he replied. “You’ve got enough experience behind you, and your success rate speaks volumes. Also,
oftentimes when you’re down, there’s always someone there trying to keep you down. She’s starting to sound like that someone.”

  “True,” I agreed. He knew what he was doing with the foot rub.

  “How does this feel?” he asked, tenderly rolling my foot from left to right and right to left, before kneading the palm of my foot.

  “Amazing.” I was going to have to get him to stop eventually, as amazing threatened to turn to sensual. “How was your day?” I asked.

  “Nothing to write home about,” he replied. “I did make some headway on a tough case I’ve been working on though. Not to give too much away, but I’ve found a link to Australia. It seems the perpetrator in question’s been flying under the radar for a while now. Managing to evade the authorities.”

  “What kind of matter is this?” I asked, curious.

  “I’d rather not discuss it with you,” he said, tight-lipped. “Not right now anyway.”

  “I see,” I replied, enjoying the massage too much to care about what he did and did not share with me.

  “I’ll tell you more in due course,” he promised. “There is something I do want to discuss with you though,” he said. “Mom’s wanting to meet you asap.”

  He caught me by surprise. “Oh? Why all of a sudden?”

  “You ask too many questions for your own good, Counsellor,” he stated. “Point is, I want you to meet my mom,” he said, smiling gingerly.

  Next level stuff, I thought to myself, not sure whether I was ready to get any more serious than we already had, just yet. Still, he hadn’t given me any reason to be apprehensive.

  “So, what d’ya say, we go see her over the weekend? She’s only 30 odd minutes away. Just thought we’d stop in so I can see her, and so you can meet her.”

  “Sure,” I replied, despite my misgivings. He traced his fingers along the inside of my leg, stopping at my knees and the back of my knees. I’d never been touched there before, and his touch had me feeling all kinds of things, but mostly beautiful and loved.