Beautiful Liar (18 page)

              Brrrrrrg. Brrrrrrg. Brrrrrrg.

              “Hello?”

              “Well, well, well! Finally, you pick up my calls. What are you doing?”

"Waking up… I thought you were my alarm."

I quizzed, "If you were alert, would you have picked up?"

"What time is it?" her voice was raspy.

"7 a.m."

"God, I hate Mondays," she whispered under her breath.

"I called because I wanted to know what you were wearing to your bridal shower Saturday."

"My bridal shower is Saturday?"

I smirked. "Oops!"

***

              We looked like two strangers in a waiting room. My father and I. Except we were in the kitchen. Two complete strangers not interested in speaking or getting to know one another for a couple of minutes. Just there to get what we wanted. He wanted a coffee. I wanted a toasted bagel.

              A “hello” would have been foreign and most likely would've caused confusion if not fluster, especially since we hadn't made eye contact since the day I fought Alicia. While resting against the counter, I stole a couple of glances only when I was positive that his eyes were glued to his tablet. He was scanning CNN's website. I watched how his white bushy eyebrows would bunch together then collapse. I watched how the wrinkles on his olive-toned face would define as he chuckled under his breath after reading a headline. Then, I wondered how a woman as beautiful and optimistic as my mother could remain in love with a man who was so gruff, who used to be physically abusive to her, who’s fifteen years her senior, and a bully who never smiled at their daughter unless he was telling some offensive joke.

              There was silence in the kitchen aside from me rattling dishes, and opening and closing the refrigerator door to pour myself a glass of orange juice. A few times, I purposely slammed the cabinets loudly just to see if I could divert his attention for even a second. It didn't work when I was a child, and I had not an ounce of shock when it didn't work this time. Ironically, what did work was the shuffling sound of the manny’s feet as he speed-walked to the sink and quickly turned on the faucet.

              "What's going on?" my father asked before I could.

              The manny was rinsing a cloth. As he squeezed it, the draining water turned red, then light pink, and back to clear. I was already running out of the kitchen towards Dominic’s room before the manny could produce a vowel. My heart was pounding when I busted through Dominic's door. He was picking at a bandage on his leg.

              "You hurt yourself."

              Dom shook his head.

              "Be honest."

              Dominic looked at me and smiled. "Don't worry, Nola"

              My father and the manny were seconds behind me.

              "I let him get ready for work," the manny explained. "I decided to come check on him and his leg was bleeding. He said he tripped. There’s a lot of blood, but the cut is small - nothing major." He shrugged. "Seems fine to me..."

              My father nodded at Dominic. "He's a Victor - a strong boy. Right?"

              "Right, Dad."

              My father rubbed Dominic's head and patted the manny's shoulder before exiting. "Thanks for taking care of my boy."

              I followed my father out into the hallway and into his office. He was snatching his suit jacket off his chair when he finally acknowledged my presence. "What is it?"

              "I think Dominic's having dark thoughts again."

              "Don't be ridiculous."

              "Do you really think I'd be speaking to you if I wasn't serious?"

              "We changed his medication over a year ago. If it were a side effect, it would have shown up before now. Besides, one cut to the leg doesn't constitute suicide. He's a happy boy now. He’s been happy since I hired Miguel."

              "How would you know he's happy? You're never here."

              "Get a hobby, Nola. Dominic is fine."

              "This isn't the first time he hurt himself. It’s the second incident in weeks. It's just how y’all said it happened the last time… Started random… then suddenly became frequent."

              "Last time the cuts were so deep that he had to be hospitalized.
You
weren't here. Remember? This was when you were playing Ms. Most Accomplished," my father replied hatefully.

              “Don’t be a jerk. Don’t make it seem like I wasn’t around. I visited every weekend, or every chance I could. You know that.”

He smiled, satisfied that he got under my skin. He knew the right words to use - any that pertained to Dominic.

Walter Victor slid on his jacket with ease” "You're bored, Nola. You're bored with yourself and you are with your life. Get a job before what's left of your mind evaporates."

***

              "There's something I need to tell you about myself," I said.

              "There's something I need to tell you, too."

              "Really? What?"

              Ronnie bit into one of the turkey, provolone, and pesto sandwiches that he made for the both of us. He chewed a bit, and then swallowed. "You first."

              I took a breath. "Well..." I nervously played with my curls as I fought against the fear of harsh judgement, misunderstanding, and worse... rejection. "My father is a jackass to me. My mother is as naive as Little Red Riding Hood about it. I despise my older brother who I said before is married and on the down-low, and my younger brother has a neurodevelopment delay. Yet, he has more sense than all of us, and he happens to be my only best friend. Usually, I have lunch with him. Today he ditched me for this girl who broke up with him because she grew tired of his obsession with trains."

              I studied Ronnie’s eyes for a reaction.

              I felt comfortable so I went on, "I'm not working, and I have no idea where my life is headed. I'm just treading. I'm not swimming, but I don't feel like I'm drowning either."

              I sat back on the bench and looked out at the river ahead of us. It was gorgeous out, and the perfect weather to greet July. The skies were clear, the sun respected my bare shoulders, and I didn’t have to fight with the wind to keep my dress down.

              “My father and I kind of got into it this morning.”

              Suddenly, I was an open book.

              “He, of course, mentioned me being unemployed. The way he speaks to me, I feel smaller than an ant sometimes. Deep inside, I'm smaller than ant. I show up like a lion, but that’s just my defense mechanism. I'm no lion."

              For a moment, there was silence until he broke it.

              "You have no purpose or passion."

              I almost snapped. "What you mean by that?"

              "What I mean is, you either lost it, or you haven't defined it. You have to ask yourself, 'what's my purpose?' Ask yourself, and ask God."

              I couldn't help but laugh. "What am I supposed to do, ask and then wait for some deep vibrating voice to fall from the sky and reveal the answer?" 

              Ronnie didn't laugh or smile. He just motioned for me to come closer. "I'll show you where His voice comes from. I'll show you how to listen."

              I looked at him and grinned. "Are you being flirty?"

              "Seriously, come here."

              I moved our sandwiches from between us and scooted over to let our arms and knees touch. Ronnie positioned himself so that he was facing me. He locked eyes with mine, reached down to my hand, gave it a gentle squeeze, and then brought it to my chest.

              "Right here... Listen with your heart."

              I wanted him to kiss me. Couldn't keep my eyes off his lips. I would have leaned in and stolen a kiss. However, Ronnie's phone chimed on cue, and he was on his feet taking the call.

              "Hello… What's up Baby Girl? Really? Really? Wow..."

              That’s all I could hear as he paced further down the path looking down at his black woven Nikes and sometimes looking up at the clear blue sky that was filtering through trees. I knew it was Marley. He always called her Baby Girl, and he always went a distance when he took her calls.

              As I played with my fingernails, I pondered how we would break news to her. Reveal the truth that he and I often made time for each other. This happened almost every single day, even if it was for twenty-five minutes in the Brandywine Park on a bench like now. I wondered when he'd finally tell her that some nights he'd call just to hear my voice and wish me a peaceful night. When would he tell her that when he hugs me, it’s as if he doesn't want to let go, and then he squeezes the sides of my waist, passionately right before we separate. Every time. Every single time.

              On Sundays, after their brunch, my car is pulling in minutes after she is cruising out. I'm the one who helps him with the dishes while he winds down for the night, preparing for the next day. That’s my way of giving him a taste of my wifely capabilities. I wondered if he'd tell her that he plays in my hair, too - especially while we're watching TV or taking a drive. Honestly, I've always believed that Marley should know. Part of me hoped that she'd pop up at his place and catch us… catch us falling in love. She ought to be fine with it once she sees the way he looks at me.

                "Weekly rant." Ronnie was standing in front of me stuffing his phone back down into the pocket of his slacks.

                "Wedding planning will do that to you."

              Part of me envied their bond and the fact that she was able to call her father just to rant, and he would willingly lend his ear. He never rushed her off or belittled her nominal struggles.

              "Does she ever mention me?"

              I had to ask. Aside from this morning, I hadn't heard from Marley in weeks. I'd see her at church of course, but she barely spoke during service. She only spoke short whispers and nods to Greg. They never stuck around after church. I imagined that she rushes off to New Jersey, eager to beat her father there... maybe to prepare brunch? A part of me believed she was avoiding me altogether. But why? It’s funny how people change. I remember when I used to duck and dodge Marley and her annoying click-clacking kitten heels after chapter meetings. She always wanted to tag along. She wanted to hang out, and she couldn't get enough of me. Now it all took a 360-degree turn.

              "Echo… she throws her little inside jokes here and there. Other than that, not really... What makes you ask that?"

              Ronnie sat back down. His arm was stretched behind me but resting on the back of the bench.

              "What inside joke?"

              Ronnie did a short chuckle, smirked, and then another short chuckle. "It's nothing. I don't even get the joke to be honest. You're asking about her like y’all haven't spoken."

              I didn't let up. "What's the joke?"

              Ronnie threw his head back and smiled, "I'll tell you, but I told you that I don't get it. It's just funny how she says it."

              I stared blankly, waiting.

              "She says, ‘Don’t front like a Nola.’”

              “Huh??? What’s that supposed to mean?”

              Ronnie lifted his arms. “I don’t know. I figured it was an inside joke between y’all. I told you it didn’t make sense.”

              I left it alone. "What did you have to tell me about yourself?"

              Ronnie looked confused at first. He almost forgot what I was talking about for a second. When it came back to him, his eyes lit up.

              "I’m feeling this lady. It's something about her. She has a beautiful spirit. She loves God. I can tell she loves God, but I can tell she needs to know Him better."

              I blushed. "I know what you're saying." I broke a piece of my sandwich and popped it in my mouth. "And now I know what I need to do... So when are you gonna tell Marley?"

              Ronnie looked puzzled. "Tell her what?"

              "About this…our little friendship."

              Still puzzled, he said, "I honestly didn't think to... Didn’t think it was necessary..."

              "You don't think she'd care?"

              "Why would she?"

              I nodded. "My sentiments..."

              There was a pause before, he said, "I hope that you and I are on the same page."

              “We are!” I smiled. “Trust me. We definitely are.”

              While I was in route to Silas’s that evening, I called Deaconess Michelle Camper to arrange that meeting. We met at FeliciTEA’s the following Wednesday afternoon. I dragged her there because I was craving their mango green tea, their tea biscuits, and the atmosphere. I was mentally drained and needed the serenity that always met me there. I wouldn't have made her take the thirty-five minute drive into Central Philly if they'd just open a FeliciTEA’s in Wilmington. It would have made my life a bit easier, I'm sure.

              Since I beat her there, I choose a table in the back, but before I took a seat, I had to check myself in the mirror one last time. I wore a new suit just for her. Although, I felt a little bit insecure rocking it. I bought it just a few hours prior on clearance at The Loft, since it was all that I could afford. The other night, my account balance almost made me cry, and almost made me want to resort to stripping - or worse, go crawling to my brother for a loan. A balance of $15,000 wasn't going to get me out of my parents’ house and into something nice and furnished without having a steady income. It darn sure wasn't gonna get me that Herve Leger dress I've been eyeing for Marley's wedding. What would be left of that $15,000 wasn't gonna get me bi-weekly visits to Delilah's, new dresses and skirts for the chapter meetings, nor the money I needed to pay for the chapter dues, and the deadline was approaching. I couldn’t be an inactive soror and have everyone in my business. That would just made me look bad… real bad.

              I tore the plastic wrapping off my bible, feeling somewhat ashamed that I hadn’t opened it when I bought it months ago. I was feeling nervous, too, as if it was a job interview. In a way, it was. First impressions mean everything, and I needed Deaconess Michelle Camper to love me. If she loved me, they'd all love me, and my job as Ronnie's wife could go smoothly. The way I saw it, the church would have my back if Marley tried to give me grief.

              The Deaconess strolled in wearing dark denim jeans, a lavender blouse and killer lavender heels that I couldn't peel my eyes off. I think I greeted them before I greeted her. Her hair was styled in a shoulder-length asymmetrical bob with so much body that she looked like she was auditioning for a Pantene Pro-V commercial as she walked.

              I stood. She hugged me tightly and rubbed my back.

              "Hi, Sister Nola!" She stepped back and admired my suit. "That's sharp boo! Where you headed after this?”

              “A conference.” It was the first thing that came to mind. I was embarrassed that I overdressed, but I played it off with a smile and slow twirl so she could get a better look.

              As the deaconess dug in her all white oversized Dooney and Burke tote, I made small talk. I asked her how traffic treated her, and I apologized for taking her out of the way to meet me here. She was unbothered.

              “A good friend of mine works out here. At least I could pay her a visit.” She smiled big. “So it worked out.”

              She had a light about her as if she could be friends with all personalities. She was one of those people who effortlessly balanced the tightrope line between “Very Approachable” and “Not to be Messed With.” She was friendly yet feisty. I could tell all of this from the shoes she wore, the bag she carried, the blinging watch she wore, her stiletto styled nails, and the eyes that adorned her nearly wrinkle-free face. She placed two workbooks and two bejeweled pens on the table. Then she reached into the tote and pulled out two bibles. I picked up mine and waved it proudly.

              “I brought my own.”

              “Girlfriend, that thing has never been used. You’ll have a tough time keeping it open. Plus, when you leave here you’ll throw it on the nightstand and never pick it back up."

              "How do you know it's brand new?"

              "Child, look at it. It’s crisp!"

              She slid hers across the table. It was pink and had a rose and pearls graphic art design on it.
Woman Thou Art Loosed
was printed across the top. "This bible has gotten me through! Let me tell you."

              She closed her eyes and shook her head, which caused her hair to sweep gently across her bronze, and rose blushed cheeks. She looked like she went on a quick trip down memory lane. When she returned, she opened her eyes and went on.

              “It's a study application bible, and it has daily devotionals" She reached over and flipped through the pages. "See? It's no standard KJV. You won't have to worry about getting lost or getting bored. It's yours now. Take it."

              I picked it up and hugged it. "You are so generous, Deaconess Michelle Camper."

              "Call me Deaconess Michelle or Deaconess Camper, and take that suit jacket off, honey. You are making me sweat! I know I don't look my age, but my body knows how old I am." She fanned herself with her booklet while I removed my jacket exposing my shoulders, bust, and cream camisole.

              We were supposed to follow the outline of the booklet, discussing
The Holy Trinity
,
Salvation
,
Fellowship with Christ: The Word, Prayer, and Tithes
, and
Ministry
. Moments into our cram session, she had me feeling completely comfortable and eager to learn more about God. My nerves were gone, and I felt like I'd known her my entire life. We did just as much talking as we did reading. It didn't feel like a class at all, but a woman to woman chat on life and God, and entwining the two.

              We were moving along pretty quickly until we reached the topic of prayer. We lingered there because it was where I had the most questions and needed the most understanding.

              "Shoes, a dress, a purse that needs to go on clearance before I make the purchase... I can go to God about that?"

              "Girl, anything." Deaconess Camper sipped her tea and smiled.

              I flagged my hand. "Whatever. Jesus doesn't have time for that. He's busy saving starving babies in third world countries."

              "It's not about what you're asking for. It's about conversation and establishing a relationship. If going to God about material things is what sparks conversation between you two, then so be it. I can assure you that in no time, your desires will shift, your prayers will no longer be shallow, and your relationship with The Almighty will strengthen, because that's just how He moves. He will turn it around. He'll transform you." The deaconess gently pounded the table, "Mmmm Mmmm Mmmm. He's so good!"

              I lifted my teacup and sipped, just as a signal to remind her that we were in a tea brewery… not church.

              "And, he's an on-call God. On time and on-call. You can go to Him whenever you want, however many times you want, and wherever you are. He will be there because like we just learned, God is--"

              "—God is omnipresent." I flipped a few pages back to my notes and read: "Proverbs 15:3 ‘The eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good."

              Deaconess Michelle nodded proudly, "You got it, sweetie."

              "He's also omnipotent. Luke 1:37 “For with God nothing shall be impossible."

              "Go 'head and show off if you want to."

              I laughed. "And..." without having to read it, I said, "He's omniscient. 1 John 3:20 “For whenever our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart, He knows everything."

              "Amen... Amen"

              "He sounds like the ultimate father."

              "He is, The Ultimate Father."

              "Wish mine was more like Him.... He's such an ass Deaconess Camper."

              Her eyes bulged, but not in a judgmental, condescending way.

              "I'm sorry for my language."

              "Take your time, and speak your heart."

              I said, "When I was growing up, people used to think that I was lucky because he's so famous around Delaware. He’s been on television a couple of times, and he’s well respected. They considered me blessed. They don't know how much of a burden it really is to be Walter Victor's daughter."

              I paused to bite into my biscuit. Reading the Deaconess's facial expression that was all twisted up, I reasoned with her. "Don't worry I'll get into details some other time. This'll spoil our meeting."

              She mouthed my father’s name.

              “I’m sure you’ve heard of him. Let me tell you that my father has always been a ball of anger, except in public. In the courtroom, he comes off likable. It’s his wrinkled face, grey hair, and corny sense of humor that seems to win jurors over.” I sipped my tea. “I know this because I've watched him in action once.”

              His name must have registered with her, because she looked at me as if something clicked. "Your father is Walter Victor… Walter Victor the criminal defense attorney?"

              I made air quotations, "Delaware’s best."

              She looked mortified. Her mouth wouldn't close, and she placed her hand on her chest.

              "Let me guess. He got your offender off the hook?"

              She wouldn’t make eye contact with me anymore.

              I felt bad for her. I spoke carefully. "I'm so sorry for whatever it was that happened. From the look on your face, justice wasn't served.”

              Her hands shook as she packed her tote and stammered, “I… I really need to go…”

              “What? Why?”

              I stretched my arms to stop her.

              "Wait, wait, don’t leave! Whatever it is, we can talk it out – unbiased. Don’t let your experience with him come between us."

              She began shaking her head and jumped to her feet. "I can't do this. I'm sorry. I just can't do this!”

              Before I got a chance to stand and try to calm her down even a little bit, Deaconess Michelle was outta there.