The Complication

by Nia Arthurs

  The garbage bag dropped from my hands. I stepped back, preparing to defend myself.

  The stranger stormed toward me. He passed the beam of the streetlamp. Brown skin. Broad nose. Thick lips. Lean shoulders.

  Wasn’t that… Imani’s fiancé?

  Amir strode forward, his hands fisted. I leaned back, half-expecting him to throw a punch. He didn’t. For a second, he just stood there, chest heaving and shoulders shaking like a man caught in his own personal whirlwind.

  “Did you forget something?” I asked, straightening when I realized he hadn’t come here to bash my face in.

  Or maybe he was just biding his time.

  My gaze slid over his sinewy arms. I had a few pounds over him, but I could count on one hand the number of brawls I’d participated in over the past five years. It’d be better not to find out if I could still hold my own in a fight.

  Plus, Amir looked one lost marble away from madness right now. I couldn’t compete with that level of desperation.

  “You okay?” I waved a hand in front of his face when he didn’t respond.

  “Yeah.”

  I waited for him to finish. He didn’t.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “You’re our chef, right? For the wedding?”

  “I am.”

  He scowled.

  “Uh, are you here to reschedule the cake tasting on Wednesday? I can—”

  “No.” Amir lifted his head, his eyes firm and filled to the brim with conviction. “Your services are no longer needed.”

  Like a dunce, I stood there staring. “What?”

  “We will not be attending that meeting on Wednesday and you are not invited to the wedding.” With a deep nod, he spun and stalked back to his car.

  His words registered and I jumped into action, pursuing him all the way to the street. “What?”

  “Wasn’t I clear?”

  “Wait, man, have you talked to Imani—?”

  “Yes, I have.” He glared at me. “Why the hell do you think I’m not rearranging your face right now?”

  “You came to fight,” I said slowly, the realization washing over me like hail.

  “She begged me not to hurt you.” He pounded the top of the door with his fists. “And even when I’m so pissed off at her I want to run someone over, I can’t deny anything she asks.”

  “We’re just old friends. It’s not what you think.”

  “You know,” Amir chuckled darkly, “she kept saying the same thing. It’s not what I think. How the hell do you know what I’m thinking?”

  “Let’s sit down and talk about this. Maybe when you’re calmer—”

  “You’ll what?”

  “We can discuss it properly.”

  He leaned over, his dark eyes boring into my face with enough force to drill a hole. “Is that what you want? Do you want to watch her get married to me? You want to make food to celebrate losing her forever?”

  “Look,” I swallowed, “I just want Imani to be happy.”

  “And she is.”

  I folded my arms over my chest and let the truth spill from my lips. “If that were the case, then why did you come all the way here just to push me away from her?”

  Amir’s fingers tightened on the car door. “You’re fired.”

  “Wait…”

  He pushed the door into my stomach, not enough to hurt but with enough force to jostle me back.

  I watched in shock as he jumped into his truck and sped away. The sound of his wheels screaming against the tarmac woke me. I ran inside. Flew past the garbage lying flat on the lawn. The screen door flapped behind me.

  My phone.

  Where the hell was my phone?

  I sped to the kitchen, opening drawers and slamming them closed. The utensils inside crashed and jangled, protesting my roughness. I stomped to the living room, upturning all the pillows.

  Why did Gran keep so many damn pillows in the couch?

  Something tumbled to the ground.

  My phone.

  I scooped it up, relief coursing through my veins, and tapped the screen.

  Nothing.

  It was out of battery.

  “Damn it!” I fumed. “Where’s my charger?”

  “Elliot,” Gran’s soft voice stopped me in my tracks. I could feel her eyes on me. “Don’t.”

  “I need to call Imani. I need to see her.”

  She gently took the phone from my hands. “Don’t.”

  Angry tears shot to my eyes. I stared at my grandmother, begging, pleading.

  She shook her head. “No. It’s over.”

  I swayed on my feet. “I can’t… we’re not… I just wanna—”

  Gran threw her arms around me and held on tight. “Let her go, Elliot. It’s time. Let her go.”

  A picture of Mom on her deathbed wafted in front of me.

  “Let me go.”

  Then the vision changed. I saw Imani in a stunning wedding dress.

  “Let me go.”

  It was different with my mom, but Imani…? How the hell was I supposed to do that?

  Chapter 15

  IMANI

  Monday mornings were always hard for me, but especially this one. I’d tried calling Elliot again before leaving for work this morning. It just rang and rang.

  Was he avoiding me?

  A telephone bleated in the background.

  I straightened and started typing aimlessly on my computer, my mind returning to Elliot. Maybe no news was good news. If he’d gotten into it with my fiancé, the police would have called me by now.

  My phone buzzed.

  Glad for a reprieve, I glanced at the screen and saw a new message.

  PORTIA: You free for lunch with Jane tomorrow?

  ME: Yes, please.

  I loved Jane Macy. She was a smoking hot hospital director and one of the strongest, most incredible women I’d ever met.

  Like Portia, Jane was the type who made good choices and was always willing to offer advice from her many years of experience. I could definitely use another sounding board right now.

  In fact, I craved it.

  Someone knocked on my cubicle.

  I glanced up and saw Jasmine, our office’s receptionist, grinning down at me. “Imani, you have a package.”

  “I do?”

  “Come here.” She crooked a finger.

  Puzzled, I stood and brushed my stylishly-cut, grey, mini-skirt down. My heels clicked against the tiles as I followed her to the front office where a giant bouquet waited on her desk.

  My co-workers were oohing and snapping pictures.

  “Lucky woman,” someone said.

  Another sighed. “I wish I was getting married.”

  Embarrassed, I shot forward and hauled the flowers. Hustling back to my cubicle, I shoved it under the desk and buried my face in my hands.

  Why had Amir gone and done something that showy?

  I grabbed my phone and texted him.

  ME: We need to talk.

  No response.

  I hid out in my cubicle during lunch, glad when everyone got the hint and left me alone.

  At the strike of five, I bundled up my ridiculously extravagant bouquet and struggled to the elevator. I so badly wanted to just dump the thing, but I couldn’t do that to Amir. He must have spent an arm and a leg on the apology bouquet.

  I got it situated on the backseat and grabbed my phone to text Amir again.

  ME: Where are you?

  I was slightly stunned when I got a reply.

  AMIR: At your mom’s.

  “What?” I threw my foot on the gas pedal and raced out of the parking lot.

  Ten years ago, Mom moved to a gated community a few miles outside the city. She’d made the pricey decision after running into Dad at the grocery store one too many times.

  By the time I got to the little blue house, the sun was setting. Amir’s car was in the driveway beside her silver Acura. I frowned and stomped to the front door.

  My mother opened
up before I could even knock. She was a beautiful woman with dark-chocolate skin, sultry brown eyes and plump lips. She’d shed all the pregnancy and ‘stress’ weight she’d carried around while she was married to Dad. ‘Stunning’ could not even begin to describe her.

  I knew plenty of men were checking for Mom, but she was stuck on her old romance. No one stood a chance.

  “Hey, Mom. Where’s Amir?”

  She grinned, her eyes narrowing with her smile. “Is that all you can think about? Your fiancé?”

  “That’s the way it’s supposed to be,” another voice said.

  I gasped, shuffling back when a large woman with skin the color of a smooth, black marble appeared in the doorway. “M-Mrs. Williams.”

  “Hello, Imani.” Amir’s mother swooped in and crushed me in a tight hug. “When was the last time I saw you? The family reunion?”

  I nodded and asked hesitantly, “You came with Amir?”

  “Yes.”

  Mom and Mrs. Williams dragged me inside.

  I tilted my head. “Is something going on?”

  “Nothing special.” Amir’s mother winked. “We’re just discussing the menu for the reception.”

  “I’m sorry. What?”

  Footsteps thudded toward me. “Baby.” Amir approached with his arms wide. He was dressed in a pressed blue shirt and black slacks. His usual weekday attire. He worked as a manager at the national telephone company.

  I accepted his hug stiffly and pulled back as soon as possible. Beneath my breath, I muttered, “Amir, what are they talking about?”

  “Did you get my flowers?”

  I frowned, noticing the way he’d ignored my question. “Yes.”

  “You bought her flowers?” Mrs. Williams beamed. “My son is such a gentleman.”

  Mom bobbed her head in agreement. “I told Imani that I had a good feeling about him from the moment I first saw him.”

  “So many people are eager to see you two married.” Amir’s mother clasped her hands and sighed dreamily. “My first-born son should only have the best.”

  Invisible fingers clamped around my throat. The gravity of Mrs. Williams’s words slammed against my shoulders. We’d come this far. Everyone expected us to get married.

  There was no going back now.

  I shot Amir a helpless look.

  “What?”

  “Can we talk?” I didn’t wait around for his permission. Grabbing his hand, I lugged him to the guest room and locked the door.

  He looked innocently at me. “What’s wrong, babe?”

  “What’s wrong?” I choked. “Why is your mom out there talking about the menu for our wedding?”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “She begged me to help. I couldn’t tell her no.”

  “But we already have a caterer.” I slapped the back of my hand into my palm. “Elliot. Remember? We agreed that we wouldn’t stress our families out.”

  “Elliot is busy.”

  I froze. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means he won’t be available to help us.”

  I stepped forward. “Look me in the eyes and say that again.”

  Amir’s gaze skittered to the floor instead.

  “I can’t believe this.” I whirled around. “You fired Elliot? That was your grand plan?”

  “We can get married without food and we can get married without him providing it.”

  “That wasn’t your place, Amir!” I screamed.

  “I did what was best for us.”

  “No, you did what was best for you.”

  “Look at this, Imani!” Amir raged, pointing between the two of us. “You’re picking a fight with me over some guy from college. Can you seriously tell me he’s not a problem?”

  “I can’t do this.” I massaged my temple.

  His expression shifted in an instant, from furious to frightened. “Imani, calm down.”

  “Maybe we should postpone the wedding, think about this a little more before—”

  Three thuds on the door cut me off.

  “Kids? Can we come in?”

  Mrs. William’s voice.

  “No,” I said.”

  “Yes, ma.” Amir sighed.

  My eyes widened and I strode over to him. “This is a private conversation.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve tried.” He held my shoulders. “But I don’t think I’m the one that can talk sense into you.”

  My nostrils flared. What the hell?

  Mrs. Williams and my mother strode into the room. Their eyes landed on me, filled to the brim with quiet judgment. Fury whirled in my chest. I wanted to scream. I wanted to bang against the doors.

  But I didn’t.

  My mother was watching my every move. So was Mrs. Williams. They looked ready to pounce.

  “Let’s have a seat,” my mother said, clamping my arm and hauling me to the bed.

  “I’ll leave you women to talk.” Amir strode to the door. He held the knob and paused. Silently, he turned back and looked me straight in the eyes, “No matter what, I want to get married to you on Saturday.”

  I strained against Mom’s grip, my legs pushing off the floor so I could stand.

  Mom yanked me back down.

  I plopped on my back.

  “Sweetie,” she said in a cajoling tone that yelled please-don’t-embarrass-me-in-front-of-Amir’s-mom, “getting jitters before the big day is a very normal thing.”

  Mrs. Williams nodded. “I remember when I was getting married to my first husband. Minutes leading up to the ceremony, I was sick to the stomach. Though, that could be because I was pregnant with Amir.” She scratched her chin.

  I shifted awkwardly. “Thanks for the advice, but this is something Amir and I need to work out for ourselves.”

  “Not so fast.” Mom tightened her grip on my arm. “Talk to us.”

  “About what?”

  “What you’re feeling. What you’re going through.”

  “I’m not going through anything, Ma.”

  She finally released me and stared sadly at her hands. “I know the divorce between your father and I was hard for you.”

  I stiffened.

  “For so many years, I thought I was the fool. I loved your father with all my heart. I gave him everything, every little part of me, and he threw it all away. On the outside, I blamed him, but on the inside, I blamed myself for loving him more than he loved me.”

  My breath hitched. “Mom…”

  Her eyes glistened with tears. “But you know what I’ve learned? Love requires risk. And I would do it all over again if it meant I’d have you and your sister.”

  Mrs. Williams grunted in agreement. “It’s okay to feel afraid, but you need to take a moment and ask yourself, ‘am I willing to hurt the man I love because of fear’?”

  Fear?

  No, not fear.

  Doubt.

  I doubted that Amir and I would work.

  I doubted that I could give him what he deserved.

  I doubted that I could stop thinking about Elliot even if I stayed away.

  It felt like I was slowly going insane.

  “Now,” Mom pasted a smile on her face, “let’s get back to that menu, shall we?”

  Helpless to do anything else in the face of their earnest ‘counseling’, I nodded and followed them out the door.

  Chapter 16

  IMANI

  “Okay, so let me get this straight.” Jane Macy waved my hand away when I tried to poke my finger into the mound of fries on her plate. She shot me the stink eye and then continued, “Your old college friend—who was actually your one-sided first love—is in Belize.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve met him a handful of times and realized you might not be completely over him.”

  “No, No.” Portia wiggled her fork around like a wand. “He’s just stirring her feelings again. You know? Confusing her.”

  “Yup.” I bobbed my head.
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  “Okay, so you’re confused about him and how you feel, but you’re not going to do anything because you made a promise to marry your fiancé and you don’t want to break it—”

  “Because she’s a good person,” Portia said, her fro bouncing in agreement.

  Jane shushed her with a look. “Which is why you’re freaking out.”

  “Right.”

  “Still, you tried to talk to your fiancé about your doubts and he sprung his mom out to guilt-trip you into keeping quiet and not making a fuss.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Wow, that’s messed up.”

  “Which is why I cancelled lunch and asked you both to dinner tonight instead.” I tipped my beer bottle at Jane. “Yesterday was horrible. I plan on getting drunk and forgetting all about it.”

  “Hear, hear.” Portia clinked glasses with me.

  Jane didn’t.

  I stared expectantly at her.

  She smiled prettily. At forty, Jane was ten years older than us but, with her glowing brown skin, trim body, and fashionable style, no one would be able to tell.

  “I can’t.” She primly folded her hands in her lap.

  “Why? My taxi driver’s on hold to drop us home tonight. Go wild, babe.”

  “No.” Jane peeked down shyly. “I can’t.”

  My gaze dropped to her stomach. I slammed my mug on the table, causing the patrons in the booth next to mine to glance over. “No way!”

  “Are you…?” Portia squealed.

  “Yes. Shane and I are expecting.”

  “Jane, that’s amazing!” I laughed. “Shane must be over the moon.” I’d met Jane’s boyfriend a month ago. The construction worker was the rugged, manly-man type and I’d instantly swooned.

  Of course, he didn’t so much as blink an eyelash at anyone if she wasn’t Director Jane Macy.

  “I haven’t told him yet. He’s still stressing about the results of his contractor license. When he gets the results, I’ll let him know. Until then…” She placed a finger to her mouth.

  “Our lips are sealed.” Portia grinned from ear-to-ear. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “Yeah.” Jane laughed, the sound dancing over the glass decanters on the table. “I thought that I wouldn’t be able to have kids. Given I’m a little older, things might get complicated. This little one is a miracle baby and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize the birth.”