by Elaine Allen
“We got off on the wrong foot,” he explains. “There's nothing between Alieas and me,” he confesses.
“Y'all friends, right? You was tryna fuck her ten years ago, right?” I wanted to know the deal with what this “relationship” was.
Blowing a breath into his fist to heat his hands, he nods. “That’s right. But that was a long time ago. Now, she like a nagging ass sister, busting it up on the phone with my wife, gushing and cooing all over my daughter.”
“You knew about me. That she was with someone. You saw us at the wedding.”
Even though I’d read the book, I still wanted to know the truth from the lips of the people involved.
The wheels are turning over in his brain. He takes a moment, possibly uncertain with how much information I’m privy to.
He holds up his hands in surrender. “In her defense, Alieas was surprised to see me at the wedding, but we were over by then. I was still drawling trying to get her to be with me.”
I understand; I wanted to draw.
He continues, “In a moment of weakness, she made a mistake.”
“Mistake?” Is that how he categorized being caught in her apartment.
He nods. “A mistake that cost her more than she wanted to pay. That night at her crib, ain’t nothing happen ‘cause she couldn't stop thinking about you. I asked her if she loved you and she said yes. That was it. I was high, but she wanted you. I can only imagine how you feel. I'd be bouncing off the walls, too, if my wife’s ex popped up.”
“Your wife cool with you being here?” I inquire, wondering if she knew their entire history and how comfortable they were with one another.
“My wife loves Alieas. She knows what happened between us and is secure with it.” He talks and I listen, intent on catching all the details.
A crackhead comes up to us asking for a loosie. Justin gives him a smoke from the pack in his pocket, and you’d swear he just gave him a couple of rocks for free. After he shuffles off, Justin continues, “She loved you and has spent the last ten and a half years kicking her own ass because she lost you.” He throws his head back and laughs. “Lieas would be mad as hell if she knew I was telling you this. She wants to be happy. I hate not seeing her happy. She deserves to be. Shit, she writes happy fucking endings for a living. On that note, are you ready to put all this behind you to give it to her?”
He extends his hand for me to shake it. I eye it suspiciously then consider what it took for him to come out and have a talk with me. I grasp it and shake.
We both smile then he walks ahead of me to leave me alone with my thoughts.
Forty
Alieas
If I have to listen to the self-appointed “wise” give me any more well-intentioned advice, I’m going to scream.
“Why would I listen to you?”
Rolling eyes was the nonverbal response accompanied by a shrug. “Obviously, you need to listen to someone. And no disrespect, but you're in here and he's out there.” She made a gesture towards the door, the bangles on her wrist jangling rhythmically as they clash together.
I don’t get it, can't fathom ever giving any advice to my competition except Bring It. And for the life of me, I don’t even have the mental strength to determine if this is one of those times when the other person is being the bigger one by stepping aside and allowing their adversary to be the victor.
What in the self-sacrificing-ass-bullshit type of crap is this?
“I don’t get it. I thought you said you love him,” I remind her.
“I also said I’m not fighting, going to be loud, and that I know he loves you. Carter is a great man, but I’m nobody’s back up, replacement, stand-in, or anything like that.” I can see the regret in her eyes but she continues with what she was saying. “I'm just trying to see where your head is. You said he chose you. From where I’m standing, he's waiting for you to choose him.”
Everything else was blurry, but that makes sense. That penetrated my hard head. I’m up and running to the door where my Uncle James is arguing with my Uncle Melvin. When my Uncle James spots me, he drunk strolls over and blocks me from leaving out.
“Lieas, tell Tyree I said I’m sorry. Your mama and Gray out dere calming him down. I was wrong. I shouldn't have said anything,” he slurs over some of the words.
“Uncle Jay, Just go ahead,” I let out. “You’ve done enough.”
“Jay, listen to the damn girl and get from in front of the damn door,” his brother tells him.
I kindly place my hands on his slumped shoulders and boldly push his aside. I press the door and step out into the foyer. Gray, Tyree, and my mom are seated on the steps of a wide staircase. I can make out the glistening of tears on my mom's cheeks. Briannah walks over to me.
“Is he going to be okay?” I ask.
“No, he’s not. But we’re gonna go,” she replies. The smile that usually graces her beautiful face is marred with sorrow. “He needs to clear his head,” she explains.
No explanation required. I pull her close and hug her. “If he needs me, I'm here.”
“Of course,” she chokes out with a quick reassuring squeeze to my arms
I don’t think there are any words to say, so, speechless, I go over to him and hug him. He has tears in his chocolate gaze. His eyes are red from crying, and his heart is crushed. And I can't imagine what it feels like to be him at this moment.
Another bad decision made that has the potential to destroy lives at the hands of my father, at the expense of everyone else.
“No matter what, I love you,” I murmur in his ear. The only thing a person can do is be there for their loved ones in their time of need. As much as it ached, I knew I couldn’t carry any of the weight that this put on his heart.
“Thanks, Moo,”.
I glance over at my mom and she is a wreck. Tears are streaming down her face. Mitchell hugs her, but I can’t imagine her pain. She no longer loved my dad, but the results of his betrayal were definitely coming to the surface. For a moment, I wonder if she knew. All these years. I hate to think that she'd cover it up to keep my dad. I hate to think her capable of that at all. Don’t know if it even worth trying to explore. I know damn well Tyree will want to know.
I glance over at Gray and Nesha, who are both beside one another now. Hugging. Giving one another comfort. Bri was attending to her husband by gathering their stuff inside so she could take them home.
And I am alone, on the outside, looking at them while my heart is in the pit of my stomach. Split wide open. Gaping and leaking. And my support is outside those doors.
Carter, I whisper. I should be with Carter.
I rush out the doors, barely feeling any of the cold air and I look for him. Hoping to spot his car, I walk briskly down the street to the small parking lot, and there is not one sign of him.
He left me. I breathe deeply. He left me. Shoulders slouched in defeat, I walk slowly back to the banquet hall. Aimlessly, I look at the ground and realize that I’m alone.
Alone. My best cousin is really my brother; the only people who know for sure are deceased, and the man I love just left me here to deal with it alone.
Fuck all of this.
“Alieas? Where you going without your coat?” Tiff asks, rushing over to me with it in her hands. “Are you alright and where’s Carter?”
I bite the inside of my cheek and look around. “Pretty sure he left.” I take my coat and mumble, “Thank you,” punching my arms into the sleeves.
“He left? Why?”
Filled with regret, I answer, “It doesn’t matter. Can I catch a ride with y'all?”
“What happened?” she presses. “Why would he leave you here?” she demands to know.
“Justin came,” I confess. “Then the stuff with Ty explodes, and I kind of couldn’t focus. And he was basically pissed because Justin came,” I continue to explain. “I honestly just forgot to tell him that we were still cool. And he left. He didn’t want to listen. Pretty much a replay of what happened last time.”
Her eyes soften. “Oh, no,” she whispers with her hand to her mouth. “Call him right now.”
“I came out here to talk to him. But he— he's gone.” Taking in a deep breath, I shake my head. “Whew.” I blow out my hurt.
This man left me.
Tiff nods and gives me the “I'm about to go in” face. It’s a cross between a frown and a sneer, mingled and sprinkled with good intentions displayed in the eyes. “Do you love him?
“I don't feel like it, Tiff,” I warn her.
Tiff shrugs an uncaring shoulder. “Love is the best feeling to have, Alieas. And it’s not easy all the time. Not like in your romance novels,” she states, gripping my hands.
Offended, I retreat into myself and pull my hands from her. “Love is exactly like in my romance novels. It's forgiving and understanding. It’s not boastful or arrogant. It never dies,” I counter.
Rolling her eyes, she laughs. “Please don’t quote scripture unless you're applying it. Love is understanding. Understand that seeing you with the guy he caught you in a compromising position with pissed him off. Love is getting over yourself so you can see through the eyes of the other person. He’s handled himself pretty good. Look what happened with Jermaine. I love you, best friend, and I want you to be happy but you’ve got to get your shit together. ”
I love him and I want to be happy too but …“He left me,” I whisper as I take in her words. I know she's right, but I’m stubborn.
“You were acting all freaking crazy ‘cause he was dating a complete stranger that he kicked to the fucking curb for you. And he had to divulge every single detail of the past ten years, but the same doesn't apply to you? Get the fuck outta here, Lieas,” she flags her hand and then holds it up when I fold my arms over my chest. “I’m not blaming you; it’s only been a couple of days since y’all reconnected and stuff is still new. You have to adjust to being a couple. Tell the truth and be open. Just call him.”
Of course, I’m calling him. I’m almost over myself as she suggested.
“No misunderstanding big enough coming between Tim and me.”
“I am going to call him. I’m just saying that he wouldn't listen to me.”
“Maybe he needed a moment. Maybe he is giving you a moment. There's a lot going on today. Don’t let losing Carter be another thing.”
Tiff kisses my cheek and goes back inside.
All alone again with my thoughts, I pull out my cell to and I call him. I curse as it goes to voicemail, but I call him again.
And again. Same response except for this time, the voicemail came after three rings instead of six.
Sucking my teeth, I start walking over to the door. It’s freaking freezing out here and this negro clearing my calls. At the door, I try one more time and now, it goes straight to voicemail. Even as I cuss and hiss, What the fuck?, the sound of a horn beeps.
I turn to see his car.
The tinted window slides down, and his face becomes visible. Those pearly white teeth and beard entice me. “Hey, ma,” Carter calls.
A huge weight lifts from my chest, frees my heart, and rumbles in my chest as I run in my stilettos, right to him. He’s out of the car and catching me in his arms. Carter stumbles but lands against the car door. I stare in his eyes and then rain kisses all over his face.
“I’m so glad you came back,” I mumble, placing kisses to his lips. He stills my hands and captures my face in his hands. I close my eyes as his forehead drops to mine. “I was mad as shit that you left and were ignoring my calls,” I admit.
Carter lifts his forehead and kisses mine. “I saw us repeating our mistakes from ten years ago and figured I should listen this time. I’m getting old, and I don’t want to waste another minute.”
Forty-One
Alieas
We ride back to Carter’s house in virtual silence. Bad by Wale comes on, and I start singing. It is one of those songs that have grown on me. The bedsprings squeaking in the background had me instantly turning my nose up, but after hearing it at my office more times than I can count, it wore me down. It was so catchy that I swore I was Tiara Thomas singing.
Is it bad that I never made love?
No, I never did.
But I sure know how to fuck
I'll be your bad girl, I'll prove it to ya
I can't promise that I'll be good to ya
‘Cause I had some issues
I won't commit, No, not havin' it
Carter quickly adds, “You will,” in response. And being petty, he changes to a different song. A long list of R&B songs entertains us on our drive to his East Falls home. Kem's Share My Life comes on as Carter turns onto his street. I smile, recalling the look on his face when he told me that that this was his favorite song. He was inside of me signing it.
…You’re still my Queen
Your loves like a river, girl
It's running through meeee.
Share my life… Share my life.
That is not the look he's sporting now. Carter is upset, even though he came back for me. He manages to maintain his composure the entire ride, and he listens to me explain to him how Justin and I ended up being friends.
He grunted that dude is not invited to the wedding.
Carter leaves me to my own devices after leading me upstairs to his bedroom. He strips down and tells me that he is going to take a shower. I quickly dismiss the thought of just stripping out of my own clothes and joining him. Sex wouldn't solve the issues we have between us. Especially since sex is not one of them. I step out my heels and just stretch out on top of the brown comforter and wait for him to finish.
My mind races with thoughts of everything. Then it focuses on Carter.
Shit, I can only deal with one issue at a time. And he is the one I need to concentrate on. What is between us. What our future is going to be. If we are even going to have a future.
Carter was damn sure brooding when he went into the adjoining bathroom to take his shower. But when he came back out, he was focused and seemed to have scraped it off like dirt in the shower.
“Lieas?” he calls over to me. I guess he isn’t sure if I caught a quick nap while he washed his worries down the drain. I sit up and stare over at him. It isn’t anger that I am reading in his eyes but determination.
He’d wrapped the towel around his waist and is leaned against the dresser. The muscles of his chest flex involuntarily as he brushes his hair. Misguided lust has me cursing myself. With everything that is going on, my fried brain cells still have time to imagine this ending in the best sex ever and declarations of undying love.
It better.
With everything going on, I realize that undying love is exactly what I need. He’s momentarily quiet, coating his golden body with Vaseline and shea butter and considering what he wants to say.
“I know you love your family, and I know y’all got a lot of things to work out. We have some things to work out, too, if you truly want this to be more than a quick fuck.”
This is more than a quick fuck. “Carter, I’m here.”
His face softens and he smiles. “The first time I met you, I thought, ‘Damn, that’s her’. After realizing that you were a “hot commodity”, I told myself that you weren't ready for all the things you were asking for,” he recalls, rubbing the moisture into his hands. “You were young, had more things to experience.”
From where I was seated on the bed, I nod in agreement. My mouth is dry; my mind is hazy. “Maybe that’s true. I made you hate me.” The thought of him hating me still hurt. The last couple days of unspoken love had put a bandage on it. “I hated me afterward, which resulted in more unfruitful relationships.”
He rubs his hands over his head and then through his beard. “I’m possessive as a mafucker when it comes to mine. I generally have crazy restraint, except when it comes to you. I wanted to break boah up. Seeing him there with you today brought everything back to the surface. I was back in your apartment, wanting to choke a nigga. Same shit the other night. It wa
s like a punch to the gut. And on some real shit, I did hate you,” he nodded as the truth of it was out in the open. “But I fucking loved you. I hated how you made me feel. Open. Exposed. Vulnerable. And it didn’t work out.”
I knew the feeling.
I nod and stare helplessly over at him. My stomach in knots. I imagine him throwing my line, I’m too old for this, back at me.
He continues, dips his fingers into the shea butter, and rubs his hands together. “I’on know. I stopped believing in love a little bit. Couldn't trust my own heart. Afraid that it would betray me.”
I had put that fear there.
“Let’s try something,” he suggests, folding his arms over his bare chest. “What are you afraid of?”
I let out a long, thin breath in a whistle. “Everything,” I admit solemnly, tapping the mattress. “Of being open. Exposed. Vulnerable. Not finding and feeling love before I leave this earth. That I’ve wasted my life running from things that could have been good for me.”
“What do you want?”
“Everything.”
“Then try being open, exposed, and vulnerable with me. Take your clothes off,” he tells me.
Carter chuckles when he reads my face as I try to figure out the angle. “I'm not going to touch you. Do you trust me?”
As if Carter cast some spell, I’m standing up. “Yes,” I say, peeling my clothes from my body. When the last article drops to the floor, Carter steps away from the dresser but doesn't come over to where I am.
I’m naked as a jaybird. His eyes roam over me, and it’s as if his hands are trailing across my body, exploring the same path of his sight.
“I tasted her… There was a sweetness… I couldn’t quite explain… Tempting me to overindulge… And yes, I wanted more… So I binged on her for days … And became forever sick...”
His voice is a husky whisper as he recites the poem from, My First Love… “Intimacy is about being open, exposed, and vulnerable. Being in love is the same.”
“My poem,” I utter. This man remembers a poem I dedicated to him without his knowledge, but it found its way to him anyway.