Blind Delusion

by Dorothy Phaire

  “I’m tired of your bullshit, Jerome,” she said, “You came to me the other night, remember? You the one begged me to let you stay so she wouldn’t find out your ass was fired. After smokin’ up my stash and making love to me all night, all I get is some sorry-ass kiss off note!

  Jerome’s muscles tightened and he swallowed hard. She was right about that. He did go to her looking to get high and needing a place to crash. Now, that he was once again in his right mind, he didn’t want to be bothered with her ever again. He took a deep breath and released it before speaking in a sincere tone. “Leenae, I’m truly sorry I hurt you. But please understand this fact. I am never going to leave my wife and son. And I am never going to be with you again. I don’t think we should even try to be friends anymore. It’ll be best for you and for me.”

  Leenae snatched up the shoebox from the table and pulled off the lid. She turned the box upside down and dumped its contents on his living room floor. The shoebox had contained a bunch of torn up photos of the two of them since high school as well as other things that he had left at her place over the years. “Go to hell, Jerome Asshole Johnson. You are one lying, no-good Negro that I regret ever trusting in the first place. I musta had brain damage to ever believe in you. Thanks for nothin’ Loser.” She hurled the empty shoe box at him, and stormed out of the living room, slamming his front door behind her. If any of his neighbors had been outside they would have seen her march out of there and probably would have heard her yelling at him even from inside the house since he had not bothered to close the front door when she barged in.

  Leenae had only been there for five minutes, but it was long enough to make a bad day much worse. He bent down and began cleaning up the torn bits of photos and chucking everything in the shoebox to be tossed out into the garbage can outside. He did not want Brenda to come home and find any traces that Leenae had been there, even though she had torn up the pictures in tiny unrecognizable bits. He didn’t think things could deteriorate much more, but they did. Not long after Leenae left, the telephone rang. When he picked it up he heard a loud, choppy, offbeat rhythm of percussion, guitar, and trombone playing in the background. Before Jerome could say anything, Bombillo from the Jett Set Crew spoke. “Where’s our loot asshole?” Jerome sighed without answering. He stool there in silence and held the phone to his ear, trying to fake a relaxed demeanor. He could not let on to Bombillo that he didn’t have things under control.

  Jerome and Bombillo had been close friends in the old days. Back in middle school they called him Bruno Morales but now his former running partner was known as Bombillo to his drug-dealing Jett Set crewmembers. Bombillo had been promoted to the ranks of street runner for a known drug kingpin who had dominated the Northwest and Northeast corridor of the city for the past two years.

  A Dominican who still spoke English with a Spanish, West Indian accent, he was born in Brooklyn but had lived in D. C. since grade school. Jerome listened while Bombillo talked. Because of their past ties, Bombillo was calling to give Jerome one last warning to show up with the dough he owed the crew for the five grams. Or, Bombillo explained, he wouldn’t be able to hold off DL, the crew’s official hitman, any longer.

  Jerome finally spoke up with as much confidence as he could muster. “Yo, I need you to spot me a coupla more days, Man,” said Jerome, “Talk to Delroy for me, Baby.”

  “Mira, if DL hears you callin’ him Delroy, he’ll smoke your ass just for that.”

  “Nah Man, like me and you … me and DL go way back, Dawg. We both knew that chump when he was Delroy McShore.” Jerome knew better than to bring up Bombillo’s former name.

  “That old school shit ain’t cuttin’ it no more, homie. You gotta come up with the loot right now.”

  “I’m working on it, Bambillo, but ya’ll gotta give me a few more days, Man.”

  “Aw’ight, I’ll see what I can do, Bro. But your bama ass better come up with the cash in a couple days.”

  “’ppreciate it, Baby. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing,” said Jerome with an air of coolness.

  “I ain’t the one who gotta worry.” Click. Jerome heard the dial tone after Bombillo hung up.

  Jerome hung up the phone gently. He knew how to get the Jett Set Crew’s money and he planned to take care of it as soon as he could talk to Uncle Ike. He tried not to think anymore about his money, his women, or his job problems.

  Before he could get more than two steps away, the telephone rang again. At first he ignored it, figuring it was probably a tele-marketer this time. After the second ring he thought it might be Brenda calling and she’d worry if he didn’t answer. Based on how he was feeling, if it turned out to be another person wanting him to pay off his debt, or even one of those damn telemarketers, he’d come through the phone and break his neck. “Yeah?” Jerome answered gruffly.

  “Hey, handsome, how’s it going, Baby?” said Brenda.

  “It’s going,” sighed Jerome, not bothering to put on a pretense for Brenda.

  “You don’t sound so sure,” she said. “I was calling to find out what you want for dinner tonight. I have to stop by the grocery store after I pick up Justin, just to get a few staples and stuff that I noticed we’re out of.”

  Jerome perked up. “Don’t worry ‘bout dinner, Baby. I’m a cook dinner for us tonight. All you gotta do when you get home is put your feet up and relax. I’ll even get Baby Buddha ready for bed and fix his bottle if I have time before my 8 o’clock rehab meeting.”

  “Hum, I could get used to this. But I’ll be a little later than usual since I have to pick up Baby Buddha from my mother’s. Mama and Daddy’s house isn't as close as the old babysitter’s place was. I’ll be glad when I find someone qualified and permanent to look after him.”

  “You know, Baby, I can leave here in a few minutes and run by your Mom’s to pick him up early. That way you don’t have to go out of your way when you leave work.”

  “No, that’s okay, Baby. He’s fine with my mother. I just spoke to her and Justin’s napping now. She told me that her stylist knows someone who runs a licensed home daycare center. I’m going to interview her after work tomorrow. If that works out, Justin'll have a new babysitter.”

  “I still don’t see why he can’t stay home with me until I find another job,” sulked Jerome, “I’m here all day.”

  “It’s too much responsibility for you right now, Jerome,” Brenda sighed. Then she suddenly exclaimed, “Oh, I’m sorry, Baby, but my other line is ringing. I have to go, Honey.”

  “Okay, Baby, I’ll see you when you get home,” said Jerome, not able to hide his disappointment at not being trusted to take care of his son. “Love you like crazy.”

  “Love you too.” Brenda blew him a kiss before hanging up to get to the other line.

  Jerome felt bad that Brenda didn’t trust him to watch their son until he found a job. If his flighty mother-in-law could baby-sit, he certainly could. But he knew he should just be grateful that Brenda had forgiven him. He wouldn’t trade being a husband and father for the world. Nothing or no one could make him mess up again. His family meant everything to him. Hopefully, Leenae got the message and would get over it. Somehow he’d get Bambillo his money and file that EEO complaint against Odessa. That way he’d get his old job back and have a nice pocket of change in the bank from the lawsuit. In Jerome’s mind it would all work out just fine.

  Chapter 18

  Several days had passed. Finally, it was Thursday morning and Bill was due home from India later that day. Renee sat at the kitchen counter and ate a light breakfast of croissant, orange juice, and fresh fruit. She folded back the newspaper and read the forecast: cool and cloudy all week. A blanket of fog concealed the view outside her picture window. There was no sign of life anywhere. Not even a squirrel darted through the yard or other small animals rusted in the bushes like they usually did. Outside it looked like a ghost town but in
side her home a renewed life emerged. Now that she was pregnant, becoming a good mother became her main concern. If she wanted their child to be raised in a stable, two-parent household, she’d need to put more energy into saving her marriage. Renee hoped she could convince Bill to start marriage counseling with Helen before the baby’s birth. She had not scheduled any appointments with her own patients today so she would be in a mellow frame of mind and would have enough time to get things ready for Bill’s return home. After being gone a week, he called last night to say his flight would be delayed a few hours due to airline security. That meant he wouldn’t arrive into Dulles until 5:30 and should be home by 7:00 PM.

  So much had happened the week while Bill was away. No matter how hard she tried to control it, her infatuation for Deek had not faded. But she was so glad she had not slept with him that night at Kent Island. The more she tried not to think about him, the more he invaded her thoughts. He called everyday on the pretense of a general, friendly conversation, but the longing in his voice was evident. She wondered if he only wanted what he couldn’t have. Was his persistence due to some kind of macho ego trip? No, she thought, to be fair, Deek was not that immature. Had she broken down and accepted any more of his daily lunch or dinner invitations while Bill was gone who knows where that seemingly innocent encounter would have led to next. Renee accepted the fact that people just couldn’t have it all. She had found her soul mate in Deek and their moments together were always pure heaven, but they didn’t last and it never would. She discovered she couldn’t experience happiness amidst lies, secrecy, and guilt. The price to pay for happiness with Deek was too great. Finally, on Tuesday she had mustered the courage to ask him not to call her anymore and since then he hadn’t. Renee convinced herself that after all those years of infertility and loss, she’d finally be able to find joy and fulfillment in motherhood. Perhaps she’d even be able to rekindle the desire that she and Bill once felt for each other at the beginning of their marriage.

  Thursday was her housekeeper’s regular day to come clean so when Renee heard the front door swing open she knew it was Chizuko entering with her key.

  “Good morning, Miz H. I come early for you. Make things nice for Mr. H,” said Chizuko in broken English, smiling broadly as she bowed often.

  Chizuko Tanaka and her family had only been in the United States for less than a year. Although in her mid-fifties, she attended evening English classes at a high school near her home. Whenever she got the chance, she practiced her English on Americans and Renee always took time to engage her housekeeper in conversation.

  “Good morning, Chizuko. How’re you doing today?” asked Renee. The housekeeper carried several baskets of fresh flowers that Renee had ordered from the florist and began cutting and washing the stems in the sink as she chatted away.

  “People not so nice, Miz H. This morning at bus stop I see young lady with dark eyes and skin a little more light,” said Chizuko, pointing to her seashell-tinted arm.

  “So I think young lady Japanese like me. I smile and bow to pretty girl and give greeting in Japanese. But girl speak English in mean voice. “What hell you want old woman? Why you no go back to China?”

  “I say to mean little one, Chizuko from Japan not China! She say something again sound like mad words but I no understand,” Chizuko frowned and shook her head while arranging the flowers in vases.

  “Some people stay in terrible moods for no particular reason Chizuko, but we can’t let them ruin our day, can we?” smiled Renee and sniffed a bloom full of pink lilies.

  “No, Ma’am. Chizuko make things nice for when Mr. H get home today. I start downstairs first, okay Miz?”

  “Yes, that’s fine and thank you Chizuko. Everything always looks lovely on Thursdays after you’ve been here. As a matter of fact, I’m planning a special evening for my husband.”

  “Ohhh! Chizuko do good work for very special day,” she smiled and bowed, “Big house but you and Mr. H not messy people. I stay late to help, yes?”

  “That’s great. Thank you, Chizuko. I’m planning an Indian-inspired evening, with candles, pleasant music, Indian cuisine and authentic dress. So if you can stay to help me I would really appreciate it. And you’re right, Chizuko, this house is awfully large for just two people but that’s about to change in the near future. There’s some wonderful news I plan to surprise my husband with tonight at dinner,” Renee smiled at her private thoughts as Chizuko glanced at her strangely.

  Instead of asking her employer to explain and speak more slowly as she often did when Renee rattled on, the housekeeper took her supplies to the living room to start cleaning. She could tell her employer looked especially happy today and that’s all that mattered to Chizuko.

  Renee drained the last drop of orange juice and went downstairs to her office to complete a few hours of paperwork, check email and return some phone calls before getting things ready for Bill’s arrival home. She was grateful for Chizuko’s offer to help her prepare for her husband’s homecoming. After her housekeeper finished her regular cleaning duties and decorated the rooms with flowers, she ironed the table linens and set the table using the best serving china and crystal. Renee guessed that Bill’s palette may still be accustomed to Indian food so she ordered a traditional meal from Bombay Palace: an entrée of Tandoori chicken in a butter curry and marinated lamb with a side dish of saffron-seasoned basmati rice and an assortment of Indian breads. Chizuko volunteered to go downtown to the Indian restaurant to pickup the food for her. Renee called Remy, her regular driver and prepaid for the round trip since Chizuko could not drive or read the traffic signs. Just taking the bus to work and back home was still a feat for Chizuko. Renee also asked Remy to stop at a nearby French patisserie so Chizuko could bring back a jewel-like tray of pastries and chocolate-covered strawberries that Renee wanted for dessert.

  Renee planned to serve small helpings at dinner and not overdo the food tonight. If Bill stuffed himself, he’d be too sluggish for lovemaking afterwards. And that’s what their relationship needed to restart the fire and get him in a good mood before she announced her news. She drank lots of Evian water and nibbled on fruit and crackers so she wouldn’t get too hungry in case his plane landed late. The food was a secondary treat. Renee fantasized about the evening ahead. She’d lock her eyes on his while slowly biting the juicy, chocolate-covered strawberries. Her eyes would send a clear signal that tonight was more about reconnecting as a couple and learning to fall in love again. It would be the perfect setting to announce that she was pregnant.

  Chizuko returned from her errands about an hour later, carrying packages brimming with a complimentary mixture of culinary smells. She arranged the food in re-heatable, serving platters and wished her boss good luck before she left. Chizuko’s help turned out to be a real timesaver because Renee had not anticipated all the time and effort it required to prepare for the evening. Her earlier attempt at creating a romantic evening had failed when Bill had unexpectedly left the country and threw out her invitation as junk mail. But tonight would be different, she smiled. The clock struck five—only a few hours remained she noted. Renee retrieved the matches from the kitchen drawer and sat them next to the dining room candles. She would light the candles just before he was due to arrive. She set out Bill’s favorite Cognac and chilled a bottle of champagne. She dimmed the lights throughout the house then went upstairs to get dressed.

  Renee showered in Boucheron’s scented gel and massaged her skin with its lotion and cologne. Boucheron was one of her more enticing fragrances that she used only for very special occasions. She opened the gift box from Bill that had arrived at her doorstep yesterday, then pulled out the beautiful silk Sari from India. In addition to a sheet of decorative bindis, Bill’s gift contained everything needed for an Indian woman’s complete formal outfit: a hand-embroidered, purple silk Sari with gold, zari work on its border and end piece. There was a matching ‘Choli’ or blouse and a pla
in waist petticoat. Renee glanced at the picture of a lovely Indian woman wrapped sensually in her Sari pictured on the enclosed draping instructions. Normally not a flashy dresser, tonight Renee wanted to induce an adventurous side of her personality to come out by emulating the seductive effect of wearing this very feminine attire. Bill was in for a big surprise when he walked through the door this evening.

  Renee recalled her husband’s response last Thursday night when he saw her in that shimmering, low-cut, blue-black Neiman Marcus gown that she first planned to wear to the Boys and Girls Club fundraiser dinner. Her tummy-tucking, cellulite-shrinking, bosom-enhancing ‘Flatter Me’ corset transformed her into a sexy diva for about five minutes. She wondered now if her pregnancy had something to do with her short temper that night. But when she had to change into something sensible like a pantsuit in order to maintain the trivial function of breathing, Bill had not bothered to hide his disappointment. Renee knew what to do to get her husband’s attention. She had tried the seduction plan the day before her birthday but an unlucky fluke of events kept Bill from reading her invitation to dinner where she intended to be the main course as well as the dessert. This time she hadn’t bothered with mailing him a secret invitation but would have everything ready and waiting for him when he walked in at seven tonight.

  After reading the Sari draping instructions several times, it didn’t take Renee long to realize that she should have practiced wrapping her new Sari. She laid out the 242 by 45 inch rectangle of seemingly endless silk fabric on her white-carpeted floor and sighed. She decided to begin with the easy steps first and pressed a stick-on bindi over her forehead. Next she smoothed out her dark hair with the flat iron. Then parted it down the middle and twisted it in a neat bun at the nape of her neck the way the woman on the picture wore her hair. She put on the matching fuchsia-colored blouse and petticoat then nodded approvingly at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Not bad. She already felt beautiful and exotic but still had the most important part of the attire to drape, the Sari. Renee stood over the sea of purple fabric with both hands on her hips. Now she wished she had gotten dressed earlier while Chizuko was still there to help her figure this out. On second thought Renee shook her head at the idea of Chizuko wrapping her in the Sari. That would definitely end up being the blind leading the blind, thought Renee—a Japanese and an American woman trying to wrap an Indian Sari!