More to Life

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

“No, we need a male for this drama. Something along the lines of Jack Daniel’s or José Cuervo or something,” Simone said.

  “You don’t even drink whiskey,” I replied.

  “Well, I do,” Nichelle answered, heading to the cabinet where Roxie kept her liquor.

  “Well, we need something strong,” Simone said.

  “I have tequila; I’ll make some margaritas,” Roxie said, moving Nichelle out of the way. “Those martinis should’ve worn off by now, so you’ll be okay mixing drinks.”

  “Have a seat,” Simone said, pointing to the sofa. I didn’t bother to protest because I knew no one was getting out of there until I gave some answers. I plopped down on the sofa. “Okay, tell the truth,” Simone continued. “Is Nichelle right? You got a taste of some eggplant from someone else’s garden and you lost all good sense?”

  “Don’t be disgusting.” I looked over to see Nichelle sifting through my purse. “Um, why are you going through my bag?”

  “I’m trying to see if someone gave you some kind of drugs while you were in the DR. Some weed, some ecstasy, one of those drugs that make you think you’re being attacked by mutants.”

  I jumped up and snatched my purse from her. “There is nothing wrong with me, other than I’ve just been reflecting.”

  Simone took a seat on the sofa. “Ooh, so this is a midlife crisis you’re going through? I saw something about this on Oprah. They were talking about how men in the middle of a midlife crisis go buy cars or motorcycles. You need to go buy a Harley or something.”

  “No, I saw that episode,” Nichelle said. “They said women get Botox or something like that when they go through a midlife crisis.”

  “Well, if she gets a Harley she better use it to ride her ass back home to her man,” Roxie said, handing us all our drinks.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because he’s a good man,” Simone replied.

  “Yes, because he’s a frigging great man,” Nichelle echoed.

  “And I’m a good woman. That doesn’t mean we’re good for each other,” I said, exasperated.

  Simone shook her head. “Aja, women would kill—”

  “I know,” I said, cutting her off and rolling my eyes. “Women would kill to have a man like Charles on their arm. I’m so sick of people telling me that. Those women can have him.”

  “You’re just saying that,” Roxie said. “You would be sick if someone came along and was living your life.”

  I took a sip of my margarita and savored the liquor as it eased down my throat. It dawned on me that I had drunk more this past month than I had all year. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful. I appreciate everything Charles has done and I love him. But I’m not in love with him anymore. I’m just existing. It’s like Jewel said—”

  “Who is Jewel?” Simone asked.

  Nichelle’s eyes grew wide. “That’s that old voodoo lady from the Dominican. I told y’all she put some kind of spell on her.”

  “Nobody put anything on me,” I said. “All she did was help me to reflect.”

  “So, leaving your husband is that crazy woman’s idea?” Roxie said. “You’re really going to let some kook talk you into throwing away twenty years?”

  “No, she helped me to look inside to try and get to the root of what was wrong with me,” I said.

  “So is that why you stayed there?” Roxie asked.

  “I stayed to get my head together, to make sure this wasn’t a decision I was making off the seat of my pants,” I replied.

  “I know what it is,” Nichelle said. “It’s because you’ve lost yourself in your kids and husband. We’ve been telling you that for years. You do too much for them. You know how when kids are little, they would rather be pushed in their stroller, even though they know how to walk? That’s your kids, and you’re just tired of pushing.” She nodded her head like she had just solved some great world problem.

  “You may be right,” I said.

  “And you fix it by taking some ‘me’ time,” Simone said. “You don’t fix it by divorcing your husband.”

  “What did Charles say about all of this?” Roxie asked.

  “He’s not taking it well.”

  “Do the kids know?” Roxie continued pummeling me with questions.

  “No.”

  “Good, then don’t tell them,” Nichelle said. “Maybe you’ll come out of this madness and there won’t be any point in telling them.”

  “Charles is understanding,” Simone said. “He’ll understand you’re going through a midlife crisis and take you back.”

  “I don’t want to go back.” I paused, then let a revealing smile spread across my face. “I feel free,” I said.

  All three of my friends looked at me like I had lost all good sense. “The divorce isn’t all she’s lost her mind about. There’s more,” Roxie said.

  “You mean it gets worse?” Nichelle said.

  Roxie nodded like she still couldn’t believe it. “She’s leaving her husband and her job.”

  “What?” Nichelle and Simone said in unison.

  “Are you seriously quitting your job?” Simone asked.

  “I’m unfulfilled all the way around, and so what I’m trying to do is rid myself of the things that don’t bring me joy.”

  “She’s been watching Iyanla,” Nichelle said, standing and heading toward the kitchen. “I told you we needed Jack for this conversation.”

  “Oprah is paying Iyanla’s bills. Who’s going to pay yours?” Simone asked. “What will you do for a living? Texas is a non-alimony state. Your kids are over eighteen, so you won’t get child support. How in the world will you survive?”

  “I’m going to paint,” I announced.

  “You already paint,” Roxie said.

  “No, I’m going to open a studio and really paint, just lose myself in creating. I’ve been thinking about this, and maybe I’ll open a gallery to display some of my work; maybe even the work of other artists.” Just the idea sent a flutter into my heart.

  “You know you sound crazy, right?” Simone asked.

  “What’s crazy about finally deciding to follow my dreams? I’ve thought this through.”

  “Do paintings have calories?” Roxie asked. “I’m just wondering if that’s what you plan on eating since you’re quitting your job and all. And I haven’t met a landlord yet who would take a painting in lieu of rent.”

  I hadn’t thought all of that through. I had a nice savings, plus my retirement from CPS, so I had some time to try and figure everything out.

  “Maybe I can teach classes until my paintings start selling.”

  Nichelle returned with a bottle of whiskey and an empty glass. She started pouring as she spoke. “So, let me get this straight. You’re going to leave your secure job with direct deposit, your wonderful husband, your awesome life to go sit somewhere and paint?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s the dumbest shit I ever heard.” Nichelle sipped her drink.

  “I don’t expect you all to understand,” I said, getting exasperated with my friends.

  “Your painting is something you do on the side to relax,” Roxie said. Her tone was soothing now, like she was trying to reason with a two-year-old.

  “Only because it was relegated to a hobby. But it’s my passion. Plus, you bought a piece,” I said, pointing to the abstract painting of a woman playing the violin hanging on Roxie’s dining room wall. She had paid me $750 for that painting.

  “Because you’re my best friend and I was trying to support you,” Roxie said.

  My lips turned up in shock. “So you don’t think it’s good?” I asked.

  “Of course it’s good. We all think you’re very talented,” Roxie said. “But dreams aren’t always meant to become reality.”

  She pointed to the painting. “How much do you realistically think you can get for that? Enough to pay the note on that Range Rover?” She pointed to my purse. “Enough to buy more Chanel bags like that?”

  They didn’t unde
rstand. I would let all of this “stuff” go if it meant inner peace.

  “So where are you going to live while you . . .” Nichelle made air quotes, “pursue your painting passion?”

  I looked over at Roxie.

  “Of course you can stay here as long as you need,” Roxie sighed. “But painting, Aja, really?”

  “It’s the eggplant. I’m sure of it,” Simone said, shaking her head.

  “I’m about to look on Google how to get rid of spells,” Nichelle added, picking up her phone.

  “You don’t have to accept it; I just ask that you support me,” I said.

  They all stared at me for a few minutes. Finally Roxie said, “Fine. You know that we have your back. We love you, and when you can’t pay your bills in three months, we will take up a collection to buy you some groceries.”

  That made us all laugh.

  Chapter 19

  This had been both the best week and the worst week of my life. I felt more at peace than I had in years. But hearing the pain in my husband’s voice kept me from fully rejoicing in my newfound freedom.

  The melancholy tone of his voice on his call last Saturday had haunted me.

  “I’m praying God will bring you back to me, but for now, I am going to honor your wish and let you go,” he’d said. He hadn’t even given me time to respond, just said, “I love you to infinity,” then hung up the phone.

  Five days and he’d held true to his word. Five days and I hadn’t spoken to Charles. My husband was hurting and it broke my heart.

  But I’d never move forward if I kept thinking about his pain. I was on the verge of getting all I ever wanted, and that needed to be my focus.

  I pledged that I was going to have a shift in thinking as I pulled into the parking lot of the building I’d come to see. My girls had been right. I needed more of a plan than just going somewhere to paint. I’d done some research and the idea of opening a gallery was seeming more and more plausible. So for the past two weeks, I’d been scouting properties and this one was it. It had been love at first sight when I saw the listing online. And seeing it in person two days ago, it was love at second sight. The owner had been out, but her assistant had shown me around, and the minute I stepped foot inside, I knew this was it.

  It was an old quilting shop. I saw beyond the mountains of yarn and took in the aged hardwood floor. I’d do a special coating to keep paint from messing it up. It was spacious but cozy at the same time. Plus, the location was perfect, near the Galleria, but off away from the congestion of traffic. That’s when I shot Roxie a text.

  Can you look into this property for me? This will be perfect for me! I want to put in an offer!

  I sent her the address and phone number, and within seconds she was sending back to me a reply.

  Perfect for what?

  My business, I typed.

  So, you’re serious? she replied.

  I am. And I sent a smiley face image.

  It took a moment, and then, finally OK popped up on my screen.

  Roxie had done her job, negotiated a lease-to-own because I wasn’t in a position to outright buy just yet, and taken the first step to make my dream come true.

  I’d made it a point to drive by daily because it had become a source of inspiration. Today, though, as I stared at the building for the umpteenth time, I started to question myself.

  Could I really do this? Could I really follow my passion?

  I inhaled and then exhaled the negative thoughts. Not only could I, I was going to. I smiled and started the car up and continued the trek to my house.

  I purposely waited until Charles was gone so that I could go and get some more of my things. I knew at some point we’d have to sit down and work everything out. I wasn’t completely crazy. I couldn’t give him everything, but I was going to be more than fair and only request enough for me to survive on. As long as Anika and Eric were taken care of, I was happy. Not that Charles wouldn’t take care of his kids, but I had heard horror stories about men doing complete 360s after their divorce.

  I pulled into my driveway, grateful that Judy’s car was gone as well.

  As I stepped inside, I took a moment to glance around the house. I saw the marks on the dining room door frame where Eric tracked his growth spurt. The summer he turned fourteen, he’d grown four inches in three months. I looked at the crack in the end table that Anika had done when she was bouncing a ball in the house, and that brought a smile to my face. Then my eyes made their way up the wall, to Anika’s and Eric’s photos from preschool, to middle school, to graduation. So many memories. I’d spent more than fifteen years here, but yet, suddenly it didn’t feel like home.

  I dropped my keys and purse on the end table and made my way up the stairs, halfway expecting to see all of my stuff already packed and sitting in a corner. But the room was just as I had left it. I opened the closet and pulled out one of my Tumi suitcases, wheeled it into the bathroom, and started loading some of my toiletries in. A part of me knew that Charles hadn’t touched any of my things because he had hoped I would come back home.

  After I’d gotten most of my things loaded into my suitcase, I paused at the photo on my nightstand. It was from the night Charles received an award for his reporting. The night that he’d proposed. A night that I’d always thought was the greatest night of my life.

  “And for his special report, ‘Rockets Revealed,’ the Peabody Award for Outstanding Sports Reporting goes to Charles Clayton with KTRK, Channel 13.” The announcer held up the gold statuette as Charles stood and made his way to the podium. The audience erupted in applause. I was beaming with excitement. I glanced over at Mrs. Clayton, who looked like a proud mother hen. Roxie and Brian sat on the other side of me, along with some people from Charles’s station. Everyone rose to their feet clapping until Charles finally accepted the award. I felt like crying. But this time, from joy. Charles had put a lot of work into that story, which chronicled the lives of four Houston Rockets players from boyhood to the NBA. He had won three Emmys before, but this was his first time winning the prestigious Peabody Award.

  “Thank you.” Charles’s voice quieted the audience, and they began easing back into their seats. Charles gave a quick speech, then cleared his throat.

  “Before I go, I have to thank the special person in my life who encouraged me to fight to get this story told. Aja James, will you please stand up?”

  I looked around nervously. What was Charles doing? I hadn’t expected to become the center of attention and felt frozen in my seat.

  “Girl, stand your behind up,” Roxie whispered.

  I eased out of my chair and forced a small wave at the crowd. I was going to get Charles for this. I tried to slink back down in my chair, but under the table Roxie hit me in the leg.

  “Don’t sit down yet,” Roxie muttered.

  What is going on? I wondered.

  “Let me first apologize to everyone,” Charles continued. “I have talked with Jim and the other organizers of tonight’s event, and they’ve given me the go-ahead, so I’ll ask that you bear with me for a minute.”

  Charles cleared his throat, then began walking toward me. The spotlight followed him as he made his way back to our table. I turned toward Roxie, a bewildered look on my face. Roxie just shrugged and started stirring her coffee. Charles stopped in front of the table and kissed his mother on the cheek. She gave him a reassuring smile as he handed her his award. Charles turned toward me and looked me straight in the eye. The room was silent and all eyes were on us.

  “Charles, what are you doing?” I whispered.

  “Be quiet, girl. You talk too much,” Mrs. Clayton said, but with a genuine smile.

  Charles quickly shot his mother an admonishing look before turning back to me. He gently took my hand, then eased down on his left knee. When the reality of what he was about to do set in, I felt my heart begin to race.

  “Oh my God,” I muttered.

  Charles ignored the trembling that had suddenly taken over my hand.
“Aja, you satisfy me mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. I believe God has a divine plan for all of our lives, and a special person he wants us to share that plan with. Someone to complete our purpose on this earth. You are my completion.” Charles reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box. He opened the box to reveal a glistening three-carat pear-shaped diamond ring. “Aja Jenine James, will you marry me?”

  I fingered the ring that had seldom left my finger for the last two decades. Charles had been a dream then. He’d been the reason that I’d begun the task of forgiving my father.

  “I don’t deserve you.”

  I’d broken it off with Charles and yet, when my brother died, he was right by my side.

  “You know that’s crazy, right? If anybody deserves happiness, it’s you.”

  “That’s the same thing Roxie said.” I managed a weak smile. We’d just put my brother in the ground and it had been the hardest day of my life.

  “Well, Roxie was right.” Charles took my hand again. “Aja, I don’t want it to be over. I love you with all my heart. I just want you to love me back.”

  “I do, but—”

  Charles put his index finger to my lips. “See, it’s that ‘but’ part that I have a problem with. But—you can’t give me all your heart.”

  “I—”

  “No, let me finish,” Charles interrupted. “You can’t give me all your heart because it’s too filled with hate. You can’t love me because you can’t love yourself. You can’t forgive yourself or your father. Aja, you were sixteen. What could you have done?”

  I felt the tears welling up. I stood and moved away from

  Charles. “You just don’t understand.”

  Charles reached up and took my hand to pull me back down on the bed. “I do, Aja. That’s what you don’t understand, I do. Eric fought for your mother, Jada fought for your mother. And you have had a lifetime of guilt because you didn’t. But if you had, it wouldn’t have made a difference. I don’t ever want you to let Jada or the memory of Eric go, but I want—no, I need—for you to let the past go. Let it go, so we can move on.”