Changing Stiles

by Elaine Allen

  Deidra begins shaking her head. “Carter, I don’t know what happened between y’all, but I love you, babe.” Irritated, I scoff then flag what she says. Gray, Nesha, and Dave are all watching us with their hands covering their mouths. Ms. Nicole is standing in the doorway, eyes on us like we were in a fishbowl.

  I pull her to a nearby window with me as she says, “You don’t feel anything for me?” Her doe eyes were wide with worry. I can tell she is about to cry. The hitch in her voice twists my insides.

  Careful not to embrace her, I grasp her shoulders. “I care about you, and you’re a good woman, but we’re over and this isn't the time or the place.”

  Distressed by the well of tears building in her eyes, Deidra shakes her head in denial of what I am saying. Unwilling to leave it at that, she grabs my hand and presses it to her heart. “I love you, Carter. You used to love me a lil’ bit,” she adds.

  As I pull my hands away, my mind goes out to Alieas. There is nothing I can offer her if I can't resolve things with Deidre. Guilt has me thinking that I’d led Deidra on. I'd been uncertain about continuing our relationship when I realized that I still wanted Alieas. It shouldn’t have taken for Alieas to show up here for me to have ended this and allowed Deidra a chance at love with someone else. Now, she is standing before me in tears, begging something of me that I can’t give her.

  My heart belongs to Alieas. Always had. “I'm sorry, D. I should’ve said something sooner,” I apologize.

  Her hands fly to her mouth and she starts to hyperventilate. She starts fanning her cheeks and doubles over. “How could you do this to us?”

  Quickly, she stands up, wipes her faces, and hurries off in the opposite direction. Ms. Shelia follows her. I look after her for a moment and then over at Tyree when he clears his throat. Rubbing the back of his neck, he extends his hand out to me and I clasp it. “Sorry for your loss, man,” I tell him.

  Over the years, we’ve maintained somewhat of a friendship. “Thanks for coming.” He stares around. “So, you here for Lieas or the lil sister?” he nods his head toward the direction D had run off to.

  “I came for Lieas.” I’m low key offended he even asked me.

  “She gonna need you, Cart,” he confides. “Give her a moment; she has to work through some things in her mind. And her heart. We all gonna go over to Gray’s. You’re welcome to come.”

  “Cool. I’m going out to talk to her. Thanks, bruh.” Instead of looking for Lieas, I wait until she comes back up. Or attempt to. They must’ve walked the entire neighborhood because when I finally went down to the lobby, I couldn’t find her.

  I texted her that I’d see her later. Then, I called my mom. Her voice settles me. “Hey, son,” she chirps. “What are you up to?”

  “I just called to say, I love you,” I admit.

  “Now, ain’t that nice. Giving your mama some “sonshine” on this cold ass day. I love you, too.” I can see her smile even though I’m not there.

  “That was it,” I tell her, “I don’t want nothing else.”

  “You sure, baby? Did you think about the anesthesiologist?”

  She is an incorrigible soul. “Aah. No. Bye, Ma.”

  I could hear her cackle as the call disconnected. Then, I texted Mira. Love you, Bug. See you after school.

  I am irritated that Alieas didn’t respond to my text, but Bug made my day responding in smiley faces with heart eyes.

  Thirty

  Alieas

  Between the tears and the headache, I ended up falling asleep. Most of what I was conscious for passed in a blur. My third cousin on my dad's side is a funeral director and had come over to discuss the arrangements with us. My father had already handled the planning of his entire funeral service, down to his navy trouser socks. Everything had been finalized without an ounce of input from me or Gray.

  Because I’m a fucking asshole.

  Because I ignored his phone calls, text messages, and emails at all cost and as often as I could. Because I spent the last ten years trying to hate him because of the “him” that I saw in me.

  And that was a part of my loneliness, a part that I’m never really willing to admit.

  I had once come to the conclusion that my being promiscuous and Gray, a womanizer, was because we were genetically predisposed to bad relationship practices, thanks to my father. With all my education, I know that just isn’t the truth.

  Stretching, I yawn and roll over and am treated to the wide-eyed stare of my youngest niece, Sumayyah. Gray and Nesha have been busy in the last ten years on the family front. They’ve added five girls to their brood. I’m not sure if they’re going to stop anytime soon, but they sure do make some beautiful babies. Nesha laughs when I call her ass a baby-making factory. I have no idea how she runs a hair salon, takes classes, prays five times a day, keeps her kids and husband happy, and still manages to be sane. I need tips, and my life isn’t half as hectic as hers.

  May reaches out with her little stubby hand to touch my face. At sixteen months, she has Gray's hazel eyes and Nesha’s entire face. I smile as her touch settles my heart.

  She is life, breathing and growing. She’s probably trying to figure out who’s sleeping on her couch. Her smile spreads as she recognizes me. All those FaceTime chats are paying off. I grab her up and nuzzle her neck, making her giggle.

  I want one. I inhale her fresh scent, and she smells like baby powder and dreams come true. I wander into the kitchen to find her mama.

  “Look who’s awake,” Gray teases as he comes over, slinging his arm over my shoulder. He kisses the top of my head. “You cool?”

  I nod. “Gray. I talk to you all the time. Why didn't you give me a heads up? You, Mommy, and Ty always giving these cryptic-behind messages.”

  Content, May plays with my necklace until she catches sight of Nesha then she's reaching for her mom. Nesha came into the kitchen with the three- and five-year-olds following closely on her heels. “Girl, they all over you,” I laugh as May damn near climbs over me to get to her. “You got any Motrin?”

  Sighing, Gray takes May from my arms and passes her to Nesha. “I was wrong not to say anything. Didn't realize until recently how bad it was. Ty been spending a lot of time with him, helping out with the business. Nesha been working the office on her off days. Mommy even been putting in hours there.”

  “Cart in the basement with Ty and them,” Nesha says. Filled with intrigue, the smirk on her face lets me know she knew just how I'd spent the previous evening.

  “Yea. What's up with that?” Gray eyes me.

  I shake my head. I have no idea. I haven’t even had time to process it or think about it. “I don't know.” They told me what happened at the hospital after I'd cooled off a little bit. But he had left before I’d had the opportunity to address it.

  “You ain't slick, heffa. It’s really crazy that Deidra is related to Ms. Shelia,” she adds pulling out a prescription bottle of ibuprofen from the top cabinet.

  Crazy? Is that all? So, my ex, who just spent the night screwing my brains out, is with the sister of my estranged but now deceased father's girlfriend. Crazy? Messy is more like it.

  “What you gonna do?” Nesha inquires as she fills up a glass of water and passes both to me.

  “And that’s my queue to exit left,” Gray announces as I gulp down both the water and the pill. “Come on, girls. I'll let Cart know you're awake.”

  Me and Nesha laugh at him as he leaves. My five-year-old niece, Ayesha lingers but Nesha quickly shoos her away with her father and puts May down on the floor to follow if she wanted.

  Taking my vibrating phone from my pocket, I see that Justin texted to see if I’m ok. He’d also called twice while I was sleeping. Said he saw on FB that my dad had passed. The two of us had kind of stayed cool with one another after everything went down and had become ‘real friends’. He’s happily married to an amazing woman named Deja and they have a new baby girl.

  Thanks, Jus. I’m good. I'll call you when I get a moment. Give
Deja and the baby kisses for me.

  Dej’ is worried. Call me if you need anything.

  There’s no time to answer Nesha’s question because, by the time I get done texting, Carter enters the kitchen. Rolling my eyes, I stuff my phone back in my pocket.

  Nesha also takes her queue and leaves us alone, picking up May on her way out.

  Carter leans up against the granite counter island and folds his arms over his chest. “Are you alright?”

  Yawning, I cover my mouth as I answer. “Tired. Drained. Feeling empty. Can't cry anymore.”

  “Your father passed. You're entitled to all those feelings.”

  Expelling puff of air, I reply snarkily, “It’s God's will, though, right?”

  “Absolutely. Doesn't stop us from feeling.”

  It doesn't. “Why didn’t you tell me that Deidra is my father's girlfriend sister?”

  He shrugs. I can see in his eyes that it isn't important to him. “It just didn't come up. I wasn't interested in talking about her when I was trying to figure out what's up with you; with us.”

  Annoyed, I shake my head. I’m waiting for the Motrin to kick it. “This makes shit messy.”

  “Its’ only messy if you allow it to be. I was once with Deidra; now, I’m not.”

  I almost laugh. It sounds so simple when it is so far from that.

  Unable to control myself, I grunt in frustration, “Three days ago, Carter. You were with her three fucking days ago,” I emphatically add.

  Nerves churning, I begin pacing the length of the kitchen. I’m so hot that I could walk a burning hole into this beautiful hardwood floor. Maybe instead of screwing, I should've been asking questions, analyzing, and investigating.

  I'm too old for this shit.

  “Alieas.” The hands that grip my arms are forceful. “Babe, you gotta calm down.”

  Those words add to the hype. Saying “calm down” to me has the opposite effect. It’s like having my own personal cheer squad chanting, Go… Go… Go… “Carter, did you fucking break up with her or not?” I demand, trying to break free of his grasp.

  “Are you going to yell and scream or are we going to have a civilized conversation?” he asks with a scratch of his beard.

  We haven't butted heads in ten years, and this could potentially get of control if I'm ramming and not thinking straight or being rational. I have to reign in the aggression if I want to make this work. And I hate it when he tries to check me by being the calm and civilized one.

  Rolling my eyes, I inhale deeply, his scent, his strength and then exhale the toxic thoughts and raging emotions. I can be calm and civilized too. Deep breath. Take a deep breath. And let go.

  Even as I let go, the hands that gripped my arms now hold me close and band around my waist.

  I look up directly into his eyes and I drown in them. “You're right. And I guess we really haven't had the opportunity to discuss any of the important things because we were too busy getting busy.”

  He laughs and kisses my forehead to soothe what’s going on inside of me rather than to arouse me. “For the record, you did not specifically say that you ended things with her,” I clarify.

  “Shit seems complicated but it’s not,” he reassures with another kiss. “I'm not a young boah.”

  Those lion eyes lend empathy, give warmth and comfort. They see through me. “Carter.”

  “I already told you what it is. I let her know that night that you're the one. Time is precious. I don’t want to waste any more of it. I play no games when it comes to this.” He steps back and covers my hand over his heart. “It’s taken me years to shield, guard, and protect it.”

  “Carter. I— I'm sorry.”

  He kissed my hands. “It’s not about that. I strive to be the type of man I want my daughter to end up with.” He shrugs a nonchalant shoulder. “I did fuck Deidra; we kicked it, had fun. Our being together was mutual. I found out that her older sister was dating your pops. That confirmed it more for me that she was my way back to you the tool that the Creator used to show me my destiny.”

  He chuckles at the look I am giving him. My face must be saying, Whatever, nucca, but my heart is doing flips. “Alright, ma. Maybe we can take a step back, figure one another out. Clearly, you need a crash course in relationships with Carter 202.” he advises. “Is there anybody I gotta choke out in DC, Maryland, or any of the surrounding areas?”

  I'm still stuck on his romantic theory even though I'm frowning on the outside. Speechless, I shake my head. He pulls me back to him.

  “Hmmm, mmm.” Bri saunters into the kitchen. “Look at y'all. Cart, I see you,” Bri snickers. “Make sure my girl good. She's had a very long day. And night from what I understand.”

  Embarrassed, I bury my face into his chest. “Briannah.”

  Carter pats my back. “She cool, babe. You still tryna go to my crib or you want me to take you back to the hotel?”

  Tucking two, 2-liter sodas under her arms, Bri smiles brightly. “You gon tuck her in too?” she jokes, making smooching sounds while puckering her lips.

  “I’m sure your husband is already looking for you. It’s been about two minutes,” I let her know. They’ve been in each other's pockets for about fifteen years.

  She flags the thought off. “He'll survive.”. Then, her face and eyes turn sincere. “How about you?”

  “I'm okay. If I have to say those words again, I won't be. I wasted so much time being mad at him and now, it’s too late.”

  Thirty-One

  Wednesday

  Carter

  I was taking a huge leap of faith just thinking we could just settle back into our love a decade later.

  It's absolutely crazy to think that, right? It’s hard to believe that she doesn’t have a man. Last night, when I was inside of her, a tear slipped out of her eye and I kissed it. Felt like I soothed away all the hurt of our separation. All the hurt and anxiety over the death of her father. My heart felt as if it were at peace.

  And— And I can't expect anything from her. Her father just died for God's sakes. And here I am already trying to lock her down forever. I need to think clearly and be rational. I’m damn near forty, too old to have my fucking head in the clouds.

  And yet, that’s where it is. Hovering above reasonable doubt and rational thinking.

  It has only been a couple of days, and all I can think of is all the days that follow and how I want her here with me and Bug.

  “Dad?” Mira’s curious voice intrudes on my thoughts.

  Smiling over at her I absently reply, “Huh?”

  There's something on her mind; I can see it in her posture. Bug tilts her head, squints her eyes, and clasps her hands together. “My mom said that she's gonna have another baby,” she informs me.

  Figures. This makes four since she moved back up north. Peety keeps her pregnant. It ain’t any of my business, though, so I only nod. “That’s great, Bug. Another brother or sister for you.”

  She laughs sarcastically and narrows her eyes at me. “So, I’m trying to figure out if you and D are gonna get married and have any babies?”

  Whoa, flag on the play. Her inquiry is a true testament that she is maturing and will be a woman soon. I want to hide my head in some sand. But I figure I might as well tell her that D and I are over. Even if it doesn't go any further with Alieas, what was between us is done.

  Considering that we have at least fifteen minutes before we get to her school, I decide to fill her in.

  I scratch my beard, look over at her, and start by saying, “About that. Me and D…”

  Mira rolls her brown eyes and releases an exasperated sigh when she realizes what I’m about to say, “Aww, Dad.”

  “We broke up, Bug,” I tell her in my most sincere and solemn voice.

  “But why? She really loves you, Dad.”

  There is that.

  Knowing that I have to approach this subject delicately, I weigh just how in-depth I want to go on this now seemingly long drive. When she began get
ting her menstrual cycle last year, we discussed boys, boundaries, self-respect, and self-worth. It was a joint effort between Toya and me. The entire experience was nerve-wracking. I was apprehensive as shit, but Toya— she was ready to tackle that and did so like a champ. I ultimately was just there for moral support because I didn’t have shit to say but, “Keep your legs closed and your eyes in them books. I will end up killing one of these little muthafuckas.” I got eye rolls from both of them, but what else was I supposed to say?

  In my head, pregnancy isn't the worst thing that could happen to a young lady. Heartbreak and her attitude toward it had the possibility to irrevocably shape the next twenty years of her life. She had to be ready for all the foolish, broken knuckleheads out in the world. And that was my job— to prepare her.

  If I’m the stick she is using to measure all men by, my shit better be straight.

  Getting back to the question at hand, I think about it. The why? The reason was simple but at the same time not. It's more intricate than that. This is about love, the feeling of it, reciprocation, and all of the things in between. My parents never really had to discuss how to love another person with me. They were evidence of what love is, how it is expressed, felt, and shown. Growing up, I had the firsthand opportunity to discover exactly how love was supposed to feel.

  It may not be that way with everyone. Lieas grew up convinced that she'd get the same love her parents had, and that ended up being a mess.

  Love is… complicated, complex, direct, head on.

  “Ok. You're right. She is wonderful, but I don't feel the same way about her.”

  Love is… easy. Sometimes— it just… is. We feel first and rationalize later.

  “It is unfair for me to not love her the way she deserves,” I confess.

  Mira settles back into the cushion of the seat as her mind works, mulling things over, dissecting the possibilities. “Well, why don’t you love her?”

  The question pops up again, and I want to be honest with her. At fourteen, she would start seeing stars if some boy hasn't already come sniffing around her. In all honesty, when these niggas do, I need her to be prepared.