ATONEMENT (47 page)

She nodded suddenly
in understanding. He didn’t need to finish the sentence because she already guessed the last words would be, ‘
raise
another
man’s
kids
.’ The downcast eyes and
quiver
ing
lip
were signs
she was
on the verge of a full-blown meltdown
. Her voice
had a shaky lilt to it, “
Can you do one thing before you go
?”

“What?”

“Kiss me good-bye.”

“Selange, I don’t…”

“I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m dying
over it…g
ive me this last memory so I can try
to live without you
…please.”

Alfonzo understood the anguish. It haunted him every night. He struggled with it every day. Wanting to come home, wanting to forgive her and searching his conscience for
a way to reconcile. He found it difficult, but this request he would do. He moved forward, lowered his head and kissed her soft salty lips and her arms were on his shoulders making him remember what he forgotten. His kiss grew more passionate and he heard her whimper
in
despair, then he cupped her cheeks with gentle hands holding her there, not letting her go. Thinking maybe, one day…not now…but in the future he might find the courage to put aside his ego and
they could try to rebuild their lives.

Finally, he let her go and she did the hiccupping cry, “I…I…I hope you…find…find…the…b-b-ball of gold.” She sputtered the
n
flew inside the house.

He stared at the door, the poem by Stephen Crane. The one she recited the first night
t
he
y
made
love.
It
’s
her way of telling him she wasn’t perfect, love isn’t perfect and sometimes we reach for things that can be found right h
ere. It rocked his foundation and he stood there until Sal fl
ew
out of the house shouting, “Pops, come on…I’m ready.”

                            
EPILOGUE

Shanda hadn’t come
and it’s n
ot that she didn’t
try;
her plane got delayed
in Miami
.
Bummer!
Emilio who weeks earlier was in this same
predicament, well he wasn’t the one pushing out a football from his vagina but he was there, nonetheless to
watch
his girlfriend Jessica deliver a healthy baby girl who weighed seven point three ounces
, found himself in Labor and Delivery for a second time
.
T
oday, he wasn’t sticking around the
delivery room, no, seeing it once was
enough.
He went outside wondering how the hell women dealt with such
pain.
He’d need a couple of shots and anesthesia if the roles were reversed. Yeah, it’s beautiful when the kid gets here, but the
in-person f
ootage of the screaming bloody sticky birth process
,
isn’t. He went to the waiting room and text Jessica: LOVE U, BE HOME SOON. SELANGE
’S
INSIDE ROOM.

The return text; OK LUV U 2.

He wondered why Alfonzo didn’t get over there and take her, yeah, she messed up and everything but Selange was a good person. She was probably lonely. Alfonzo worked late and
was
gone a lot, who wouldn’t feel lonely? Seriously, it’s not like Alfonzo was a saint
, in fact he could be quite the asshole.
Shit, he slept with women, the only difference is men don’t get pregnant they impregnate. In
Emilio’s eyes he had much respect for
Selange
. Someone else may have gone out and got an abortion, tried to cover her up her affair, not Selange.
She
decided to say fuck everybody I’m keeping these children and to hell with who doesn’t like it. Of course, Alfonzo
split;
he’s got an ego the size of the Empire State Building. Sure, it’s tough, Emilio got it, it’s tough when you fuck-up but it’s the people who love you the most who are supposed to forgive you. He’d heard Selange crying plenty of times. Jessica told Emilio, Alfonzo had
gone
ahead with the divorce and it sucked. It truly did, because
it’s
obvious Selange loved him,
too
bad Alfonzo couldn’t see it. At least she was taking responsibility, maybe Alfonzo needed to examine his role in the mess.

Emilio looked up when the elevator c
himed
open and a fierce
looking man, a sinister Vincent clone stepped through its doors. Midnight glossy hair, over six three, broad shoulders, muscled and lean. The dark eyes roamed to where he sat, the nostril seemed to flare, Emilio wasn’t sure or perhaps it was set naturally in this way. His clothes were quality leisure and very high-end but it’s the way in which he commanded respect by his walk that affirmed this is a man afraid of no one. He’d never met Vincent’s twin brother Nico but he heard the stories. The guys described him as the opposite of Vincent. Saying he was a no nonsense, unsmiling and serious mother-fucker. Well, they were right.
Nico
Serano
looked like a killer!

                                  
***
 

Alfonzo
got a
n excited telephone
call from Sal
at the office,
“Mommy’s going to the hospital, the babies are coming dad
...they’re finally coming
!”

The boy’s
exuberance
sent sparks through his body. The innocence of children was enviable. Sal
wasn’t concerned with
any of the grown-up stuff, he was ecstatic to have new siblings to the mix.
If only she were having his baby then he’d feel happy, too.

“Who’s with your mom?” Alfonzo asked
, genuinely concerned
.

“
Well, aunt Shanda’s stuck at the airport mommy said and Anita got to stay with us so
Emilio
came
to take her
.”

The long explanation from the boy
was
a sign of his young age. Alfonzo frowned at the news. He saw the kids
regularly;
sometimes he
caught a glimpse of Selange
out on the patio reading or by the pool
. Sometimes she had her feet dangling over the edge,
absently
kicking up water with her feet listening to music. He’d see the
solitary reflection
by the way she stared ahead to nothing really and her lips turn down as she moped.
She
was aware he’d
come for the children
,
he came every other day to take them out and on weekends they stayed at his new
home not far away
. She always kept a
distance, not smiling or speaking, simply existing.
She was trying to spare him the sight of her extended belly and he hated
making her feel such shame.

He’d stand there at the side of the house as Anita got the kid’s things and listen to the music drifting from those powerful mini speakers. She changed her playlist often and on one visit a male artist he wasn’t familiar with was singing. The lyrics caught his attention. It was about ships in the night, passing by. He could still hear the song in his head. ‘
We’re like ships in the night…keep on passing me by…trying to find who’s right –and if all goes crashing in to the sea
…
it’s just you and me…trying to find our light…like ships in the night…’

H
e wanted to go there and sit. Maybe, take her hand and ask, “What happened to us?”
But, he never did, he couldn’t.
They’d crashed in to the sea and he doubted they’d find their way back. So, i
nstead, he’d collect
ed
the children’s backpacks, wave
d
at her and kep
t
it moving.
He researched the song, Matt Kearney was the artist. He
purchased it and added it to his playlist. He really liked it.

Over the
ensuing
months he realized he couldn’t do it. Yes, he loved Selange more than the island sea, it just hurt too badly. Every time he thought about her
,
Nico
,
Vincent and
the
lies, it
produced
pain
.
He couldn’t trust her any more. The
speedy
divorce gave her the house, money and anything else she wanted.
It also assured the children would not have his name.

He remembered her crying on the phone when she got the
documents, b
alling and hiccupping, “Don’t do this
hun
, we can fix it. I’ll fix it, just reconsider…I messed up…I know but I love you…I
won
’t stop loving you.”

He almost gave in then
his wounded pride spoke,
“I’m too broken,
we’re broken babe,
it
can’t be fixed.”

“No,
hun
…it
can,” she said optimistically, “come home…we’ll get counseling, whatever it takes, I’ll do it. Please don’t give up on us…don’t punish me for one mistake.”

Alfonzo sighed, “That’s not what I’m doing
.
Selang
e, I’m being honest, when I look at you all I think about
i
s
you and Nico. Then the anger starts, I don’t want to be angry anymore…I’m not trying to punish you…babe…I just want to be okay again.”