Kimberly hugged her. “That’s good! Congratulations!”
“Thank you!” Pamela told her. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright?”
Kimberly peered around the hall for a few seconds, and then nodded. “I’m going to be all right. In fact, I’m going to be better than I have been in a long time. Girl, it’s time for me to do me.”
“Right on then, sister!” Pamela said, opening her arms wide.
Kimberly leaned in, and the two of them embraced.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Sterling seated himself on the park bench as he continued to watch Third play. He had his laptop with him, but he didn’t feel like opening it up just yet. His son had his full attention for the moment.
That Third was growing and growing fast was obvious to all. Growth was a part of life, but he never thought about that growth as it pertained to his child, or to his life in relation to his child’s. He was getting older, and wiser he had hoped. It was that thought that made him wonder what kind of father he was, and what kind of lessons would he be able to instill in his son.
Sterling watched Third’s interaction with the other children. He was proud of what he saw thus far. His son had taken turns, broke up an argument between two other children, and had all of the children on the jungle gym playing together. In those few minutes of watching his son he learned that Third was a leader, not a follower. That he was honest, and just, and fair. That he could organize, and that he had a bountiful imagination and a kind heart. Like all fathers, he had hoped and dreamed that his son had taken only the best elements from him. Because like all fathers, his son also carried his hopes and dreams that he would be a better man than he. Third could do more, go further, dream bigger. If he studied hard and got his lesson, he could go to Harvard, and then Harvard Law, and he could be the first Williams to be President of the United States. The world was open to him in ways that had been closed to Sterling. He would do all in his power to make sure that the doors opened wide for his son. He would build an empire, and make sure that his son had the money to make power moves on a global level.
“He’s getting bigger and bigger with each passing day.”
She had startled him. Sterling quickly turned in the direction from which the voice had came. It was his ex-wife.
“May I?” Carmela asked, waving her hand toward the empty seat next to him on the bench.
“Please,” Sterling said, nodding toward the seat.
Carmela seated herself. “He’s grown an entire shoe size over the summer.”
Sterling smiled and nodded. “I know. I had to buy the new Jordan XX’s remember?”
“Oh, that’s right,” Carmela smiled. “I forgot about that. He’s into clothes and how he looks now.”
“Must have discovered girls.”
“He’s like his father,” Carmela said smiling. “That boy discovered the opposite sex a long time ago. He’s a ham, and a showoff. He can’t pass a mirror without checking his waves, or a see a little girl without trying to dance.”
Sterling laughed heartily.
“Chile, let me tell you!” Carmela continued. “Have you heard his sexy voice?”
“His sexy voice?”
“Yes! He’ll get on the telephone with these little girls, and start talking all slow, and slick.”
“Third? Talking to girls on the telephone?”
Carmela nodded. “You’re getting old, Sterling. Face it.”
“I’m not getting old,” Sterling said shaking his head. “I’m getting better.”
“We’re both getting old,” Carmela told him.
“Older, but not old.”
Carmela hesitated for a few seconds, and then nodded. “Okay, I’ll agree with you on that one. Older, but not old.”
Sterling peered around the park. “Where did the time go, Carmela?”
“It just went.”
“Yeah, but it seems like only yesterday we were both freshmen at Harvard, walking around the yard looking like a pair of deer in some headlights.”
“No, sweetie, you looked like a deer caught in some headlights,” she corrected him. “That’s why I decided to talk to you. I was totally together, so I decided to have some sympathy for the nerdy looking guy.”
“Nerdy looking? Woman, I’ve never looked nerdy in my life!”
“Oh, Sterling, come on! You had a pocket protector!”
“What’s nerdy about that? I didn’t want my pens to leak into my shirt pocket! Besides, it was a gift from my Nanna.”
Carmela shook her head laughing. “What am I going to do with you?”
Sterling shrugged.
“Speaking of Nanna, how is she doing?”
“She’s doing well. She asks about you all the time.”
“Give her my love.”
“You know, Carmela, you can always go and see them anytime you like. They love you, and they still consider you family. In fact, they are your family too, and always will be.”
Carmela shook her head. “Wouldn’t feel right.”
“With us not being together?”
Carmela nodded slowly.
Sterling leaned back on the bench. “What the hell happened to us, Mel? Were we so damned young, so full of fire, and righteousness, and so egotistical, and hard headed that we couldn’t have made it work no matter what?”
Carmela nodded. “Everything became a test of wills between us. A daily battle for supremacy.”
Sterling shook his head and peered off into the distance. “The scars.”
“The reward,” Carmela said softly, nodding toward Third.
Sterling nodded. “The reward.”
“He’s so much like you, Sterling, that it’s not funny.”
“I can’t get over him trying to talk to girls on the telephone.”
“Yep. Next thing you know, it’ll be dances and the movies, and then prom, and then off to college, and then a wedding, and one day we’ll wake up grandparents.”
“Grandparents,” Sterling said, exhaling. “I can’t even think that far ahead.”
“You need to, Sterling,” Carmela said softly. “You really should start thinking about what comes next in your life.”
“What do you mean?”
“I heard that you had a really nice friend,” Carmela explained. “And I also heard that you two broke up, and that you’ve been miserable ever since.”
“Do you know why we broke up?”
“One thing I’ve learned, is that no matter how thin you slice it, there are always two sides to every story,” Carmela told him. “She had some issues with her previous man, about all his baby mommas and their drama. And when she found out about Third, she panicked.”
“And you’re not upset that I didn’t tell her about our son?” Sterling asked.
Carmela shrugged. “Apparently you had your reasons.”
Sterling nodded. “I was going to tell her. I was just waiting for the right opportunity.”
“No one’s judging you, Sterling. Least of all, me. I know that you’re a good father, and I know that you’re not ashamed of Third, or of having a son. I knew that you would have told her, because any woman you’re with, would have to love him as much as you love him, in order for you to truly love her.”
Sterling nodded once again. “Thank you, Mel. You really do understand me.”
“You mean, still understand you?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“That’s right. No one understood me like you did.”
Carmela turned back toward the playground. “So, what are you going to do about her?”
Sterling shrugged. “There’s nothing that I can do about her.”
“You can fight for her.”
“Why does that feel so uncomfortable coming from you?” Sterling asked.
“I’m not saying that you should have or that you didn’t fight for what we had, Sterling. Our situation was different. We were young, and dumb, and both pissing fire. Neither of us understood what communication meant, or what
giving meant, or what it took to sustain a marriage.”
“And now that we’re older?”
“We have a beautiful son to raise together.”
“And that’s it?”
“A friendship, Sterling. I want a friendship with you.”
“Is that why you’re being so nice to me, today?”
“Because you’re wounded?” Carmela nodded and smiled. “I don’t like to see you wounded, Sterling. Especially if I wasn’t the one who shot the arrow.”
Sterling laughed heartily. “I can always count on you to keep it real, can’t I?”
Carmela nodded. “You bet your ass. That’s kinda all I have left in this world. My realness.”
“You have a lot more than that.”
She shook her head. “Stop with the compliments. I don’t want to end up in the sack with you.”
“Wouldn’t be a bad thing.”
“Yes, it would. I don’t do rebounds, and I never look back.” Carmela paused for several moments. “My question is… do you love her?”
Sterling peered off into the distance for several moments before giving his answer. “I do. I really do.”
“Despite your attempt at some sympathy poonanny, I believe that you do.” Carmela turned toward Sterling, adjusting herself on the hard wooden bench. “Then go after her, and tell her that you love her. If you’re hurting, I’ll bet you a dollar to a dime that she’s hurting too.”
“My question is… can it stay like this between us?” Sterling asked. “Not just while I’m hurting, and while you’re feeling sorry for me, but all of the time? I like us like this. I like you being here for me, and being my friend. That is one of the things I miss most, Mel; your friendship.”
Carmela nodded. “I’m your friend, Sterling. I have no more anger in my heart toward you. I don’t think that I ever really did. I knew how ex wives behaved toward their spouses, and so I figured I was supposed to behave that way. I’m tired of playing the bitter ex spouse. You take really good care of our son, and I have nothing to complain about.”
“You should allow me to take care of you also,” Sterling told her. “Let me give you a little money each month to help out.”
“I’m fine, Sterling. I’m a New York corporate attorney with a degree from Harvard Law, and a business degree from Wharton. I bill my clients out the ass. Besides, if I ever want your money, I'll take you to court, whip your attorney’s ass, and bleed you dry.”
Again Sterling laughed. He loved Carmela for precisely the reasons she named. She had always been smart, confident, and strong. His love for strong women was something he inherited from watching his mother and his nana work and raise families. They were powerful women, and so was Carmela. He knew it the moment he met her on the yard in Cambridge. He hoped that his son would get lucky and marry a woman like his mother.
“I’m still looking for someone to run the women’s line at Vespasian, interested?”
Carmela shook her head. “Not a snowball’s chance in hell.”
Sterling laughed.
“I hear that the new love of your life is a pretty talented designer, and that she’s already in the industry.”
Sterling lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve been talking to Wilson, haven’t you?”
“You know that I cannot stand Wilson,” Carmela said dryly.
“Who’s been filling you in?”
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,” Carmela said with a smile. “You know I can’t reveal my sources.”
“Your source has a pretty big mouth.”
“That’s the way sources usually are. So, are you going to make nice with her or what?”
Sterling shrugged. “What was that you said about not looking back?”
“Touche,” she said with a smile. “You got me on that one. But then again, I don’t think that this girl is looking back. I think that she’s about moving forward. Not often that we professional negroes find someone in our age, income, and education brackets.”
“Is that why you’re rooting for her?” Sterling asked with a smile.
“Who says that I’m rooting for her?” She said, leaning over and nudging his shoulder with hers. “I’m in the Sterling Williams cheering section. I just want you to be happy, babe.”
Sterling nodded. “I’m happy.”
Carmela rose. “I’ll tell you what. You hang out here with him, and I’ll go home and cook us all some dinner. You come by, have dinner with us, help him with his homework, and help him get his things together for school tomorrow.”
Sterling closed his eyes and shook his head. “Thank you so much, Mel.”
“Don’t mention it. Besides, you look like you could use a good meal anyway.”
Carmela turned, and strutted away with her Manolo Blahnik heels clicking, leaving him wafting in her Chanel No. 5 perfume.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Kimberly lifted her feet onto the bed, and brushed on another coat of nail polish.
“That color is so pretty!” Mia told her.
“I can’t wear that color, and I hate you for being able to!” Brittany told her.
“Why can’t you?”
“Because, orange, or peach, or pink just makes me look like a pale, bleached Barbie!” Brittany whined. “I have never been able to wear those colors. I would die to be able to die my hair orange or red.”
“Why?” Mia asked, staring at Brittany as if she were crazy. “You have the most beautiful blonde hair in the world. Chicks would die to have your hair.”
“And pay good money for it,” Kim added. “Blonde is in.”
“Is not!” Brittany told them.
“Is too!” Mia said.
“I saw Mary J. at Carnegie during the Wyclef charity show.” Brittany told them. “That orange with the blonde tips that she was rocking in that pixie cut, was off the charts!”
“Chain, Brittany,” Mia corrected her. “Off the chain.”
“Charts, Mia. You say chain, I say charts. How about that?” Brittany leaned forward, and applied a liberal coat of red to her toenails.
Mia began to place tiny diamond studs on her freshly painted toenails in a funky design pattern.
“That is so cute!” Kim told her.
“Thank you,” Mia smiled. “You want me to hook you up when I’m done?”
“Do you have enough diamonds?” Kim asked.
Mia lifted a tiny plastic container sitting next to her and shook it. It rattled. “Girl, I got a whole box full.”
“I want some!” Brittany said excitedly. She leaped from the couch and raced to where Mia was seated on the floor and plopped down next to her. “Girl, that is so pretty! You need to open up your own shop!”
“Bitch, that is so racist!” Mia shouted.
“What?” Brittany asked, turning up her palms and staring at Kim.
“I’m Asian, so I need to open up a nail shop?” Mia asked.
“I wasn’t saying it because you were Asian, but because you’re were good at it,” Brittany explained.
“And maybe I should talk like this,” Mia said in a thick Asian accent. “Ahhh me so horny! Me love you long time!”
Kim and Mia burst into laughter.
“What?” Brittany asked, staring at them with a lost look on her face.
“Relax, bitch!” Mia shouted. “Stop being so sensitive. We don’t wear that shit on our shoulder around here!”
Brittany joined in the laughter. “Okay, you got me.”
“Besides, if there is any one of us who needs their own business, it’s Kimmie here,” Mia told them.
“Me?”
Mia nodded. “I saw your new sketches on the table. Girl, I would rock those new peasant blouses that you have. Especially the ones with the neck piece connected to them! That shit is live and in effect!”
Kimberly and Brittany stared at one another for several moments, before Kim shook her head. “No more BET for you, Mia.”
Mia pointed toward Kim. “Stop playing.”
&nbs
p; Brittany walked to the table and flipped through Kimberly’s new sketches. “Girl, Mia is right, you need your own shit.”
“Get out of here!” Kimberly said, waving her hand and dismissing them.
“I’m serious, Kim!” Brittany told her.
“Me too!” Mia nodded. “Your designs are better than anything in the stores right now. I haven’t seen anything in Elle, Ms., Vogue, Essence, Town and Country, Harper's, or Mocha that can touch your stuff. You should really do it, Kimmie.”
“It’s not like you have anything else to do right now,” Brittany reminded her. “You’re not getting up and going to work anymore.”
“I wouldn’t know the first thing about getting started,” Kim told them.
“You said that it’s your time, right?” Mia asked.
Kim nodded.
“Well, you have to make it your time, you just can’t speak that shit into existence,” Mia told her. “Get off your ass and get on the internet.”
“Go down to city hall and get some information on starting a business,” Brittany told her.
“Yeah, I know that the city has business incubators that’ll help you along,” Mia added.
“And do what? Design, and then what?”
“Have your designs turned into reality,” Brittany told her.
“You send them off to Canada or Mexico or The Philippines and have someone make them and ship the finished product back to you.” Mia told her.
“Send my designs to a sweatshop in the Philippines, and have someone bootleg my designs?” Kim asked, lifting any eyebrow.
“Girl, you copyright your work, and if you’re not comfortable with Mexico or Thailand, or Taiwan, or The Philippines, you do Canada,” Brittany told her.
“Oh, I know!” Mia said, bouncing up and down excitedly. “You do Africa! You can find a garment manufacturing firm in Senegal, or the Ivory Coast, or even Liberia, because they could use the money to help them rebuild after the civil wars they've just had. The United States has zero tariffs on textiles and garments imported from Africa in order to help their economies. You can get a great price on the work, and have it shipped over here at a reasonable price, and you won’t have to pay any tariffs on the goods!”
Just Another Damn Love Story Page 17