Born at Dawn (11 page)

The blend of the men pounding on the door and screaming, “Open the door, lady,” jolted her right out of sleep. She woke with a stiff neck and her eyes bulging out of their sockets from fear. The last time she heard pounding like that, it was Marvin at her mother's door. She leaped out of the chaise longue to open the door. “Sorry, fellas,” she said, wiping the drool from the side of her mouth with the back of her hand.

“It's quite all right, ma'am,” said Bear. He scooped up two white lamps with gold lampshades. The others were on his heels carrying a small wooden and metal computer stand, which they took in the bedroom.

“Here you go, ma'am.” One of the movers handed Cynthia a bag.

“Thank you.” Cynthia put the bag on the counter and began removing its contents.

“You can get back to your nap now. We're done,” Bear informed her.

Cynthia spun around, smiling. She wiped her hands on her pants, which had become wet from holding the Slurpee, and offered one to shake Bear's hand.

“Thank you, Bear . . . I mean, Harold. Cheo was right. You guys are really good.”

“Thanks, ma'am. Remember to call the Johnsons for all your moving needs. Have a good day,” Bear said, bowing and backing out of the door.

After the men left, Cynthia hopped onto the counter, taking a massive bite out of her hot dog, and whispered a thank you into the air. They'd gotten her not one but two hot dogs. She swallowed the first one and just as she was about to take a bite out of her second, there was a knock at the door.

“Mr. Rivera, it's Meridian Moving and Storage.”

Cynthia slid off the counter and opened the door.

“Hi, Mrs. Rivera?”

“No, but you can bring the boxes right on in.” The men in black overalls wheeled in boxes that conveniently compartmentalized Cheo's life: living room, kitchen, bedroom,
Mamí,
and travel.

“Where do you want them?”

“Just dump them in the living room.” She polished off her second hot dog while they dumped the boxes in neat piles around the living room and walked out. Cynthia slurped her Slurpee and noticed the tape peeling slightly on a box that was labeled
LIVING ROOM.
Gently, she smoothed the tape back, and it rolled back up.

Cynthia battled with the bad tape and her own desire to know more about Cheo. Her inquisitive spirit got the best of her. After three solid attempts at smoothing the tape back into its proper position, she decided this was clearly the universe's way of giving her access into a world she desired to enter.

She peeled the tape back, opened the box and wrangled out a small black rectangular picture frame that housed the photo of a gypsy-eyed woman with long waves of black hair that stopped at her elbows. Her bronze skin glowed beneath a turquoise frock that clung to her broad hips. White and gold rosary beads hung from her neck. The backdrop of the photo was magnificent. She stood sandwiched between two palm trees barefoot in emerald green grass, and her twinkling, smoldering eyes and dainty mouth captivated Cynthia.

“
Mi madre,
” Cheo said. His voice startled Cynthia. The picture frame crashed to the floor as it slipped out of her hands.

“Oh my God.” Cynthia said quickly bending down and scooping up the picture frame. “I'm sorry.” She placed the picture on top of the box.

“It's okay,” Cheo said, heading to the kitchen. He placed the bags he was carrying onto the counter.

Cynthia followed him. “No, it's not okay. I shouldn't be going through your things, and I would hope if I left you alone in my apartment . . . not that I would ever leave you alone in my apartment,” she said, pointing her finger at him, “but if I did, I wouldn't want you rifling through my things.”

“Chicken parm or lasagna?”

“Chicken parmesan.”

Cheo took out the chicken parmesan, a plastic fork, and some napkins. “Here.” He handed her meal to her. “Listen, it's really okay. I'm sure on the rare occasion you would leave me in your apartment, you wouldn't leave me alone with just my wits to entertain me.”

He walked past her into the living room and picked up the photo. “Besides, I can understand your enchantment;
es mi foto de favorita de mi madre.
”

“What, man?”

“I'm sorry. I keep on speaking to you in
Español.
I only do that when I feel comfortable, which means you make me feel comfortable. That's my favorite picture of my mother. That was when she was beautiful and carefree. That picture was taken on her last day in Puerto Rico in the yard of her best friend, Luz.” Cheo recounted his mother's journey to America from her early days in Spanish Harlem to Virginia.

Cynthia watched Cheo draw his fork to his mouth. His lips formed words, but she couldn't hear a thing he was saying. The perfect curve his mouth made and the blush pink color of his lips held her mind captive. She rested her cheek in the palm of her hand in order to resist the urge to lick the sauce from the corner of his mouth.

“Spanish Harlem,
tu sabe?
”

“Huh?” she asked, climbing out of the fog.

“Do you know Spanish Harlem?”

She nodded. “Yes, I know Spanish Harlem. I used to live in Harlem. Do you know Harlem?” she asked, biting into her chicken parmesan.

“Yes, I've seen it. It's very beautiful: the architecture, Convent Avenue, Sugar Hill, 125th Street.
Sí,
I know Harlem.”

“You're a man about town.” She laughed.

“I'm glad you're feeling better. You looked ghastly before.”

“Why thank you for noticing. Actually I haven't slept since I moved in, and then I sat down on that”—she pointed at the chaise longue—“and it was all over. The next thing I knew it was dark, quiet, and I was dreaming. You know how you can repay me for babysitting your apartment?”

“No, but I'd love to know how. Does it involve kisses at all?”

“Uh, no.” She rolled her eyes playfully. “You can repay me by taking me to get some furniture like this.”

Cheo laughed, his throat warbling as he responded to Cynthia's request. “I'm sorry, but I won't be able to do that. All of this furniture was purchased in New York, and in case you can't tell, it's
muy viejo.
”

She was relieved. Truly she didn't want anything that looked remotely similar to Cheo's furniture, except for the chaise longue. “Well, do you know anywhere I can get furniture here?”

His pink lips stretched across his face into a smile. “It would be my pleasure to take you around. In the meantime, why don't you phone home? The sound of something or someone familiar will put your mind at ease.”

“Thanks, Cheo. If you don't mind I'm going to excuse myself right now. I don't want to keep you up too late on a Tuesday night, and I'd really like to go make that call.”

Cynthia walked out the door leaving Cheo no chance to suck down the huge chunk of lasagna lodged in his mouth to properly say good-bye.

Cynthia was sorry she left, and Keith was even sorrier she was gone.

It amazed Cynthia that Keith could tell it was her. The same way a mother knew her child, Keith recognized his mother in every measured breath. He knew it wasn't a prankster or one of his father's shorties pleading for attention, although the person who anonymously called never said a thing. He also knew better than to tell his father about her calls or to tell his mother what was really going on while she was gone.

“I miss you. We all miss you, even Dad. He's been trying to get it together. It's hard. When you come back, things will be better. You are coming back, right? James has been getting in trouble. You know how he is.”

Cynthia smirked at the receiver.

“Grandma is coming to get us this weekend. She's taking us to church. She said in a time like this we need a savior. When I get there, I'm going to pray for you, Mom.”

His words broke something inside of her. No boy should be praying for his mother in that capacity. Cynthia kissed her index finger then touched the base of the receiver with it. She hung up the phone. She squatted to the ground right there in the gas station and cried. It was time for her to hurry up and get in the position she needed to be in to provide for her sons.

Cynthia knew what she had to do next: get a job. She didn't think that would be difficult at all. In her mind considering how sweet Dr. Chang was all she'd have to do was call him and tell him what's going on and he'd allow Cynthia to work from here
.
Dusting the seat of her pants off, Cynthia stood and positioned her fingers on the dial pad of the phone. She froze. There was still one problem if Cynthia continued to work for Dr. Chang; there was the possibility that Marvin might still be able to locate her. That cautionary thought caused her to pause in the middle of dialing the area code and return to her new residence.

Cheo was correct. A call home was all she needed to fall asleep. It took some time for her to get Keith's words out of her head and adjust to not having a bed. Without so much as a warning sign, sleep crept up on her and robbed her of her time to wallow in self-pity and guilt.

Cynthia waited for her Saturday shopping trip to enlist Cheo's help in finding a job. He picked her up around 11:00 a.m. to have brunch before they went shopping. They shared a humongous platter of chicken and waffles in a diner on Hull Street.

“I know this isn't the kind of brunch you're used to in New York. Welcome to the dirty, dirty.” They both cracked up at Cheo's impression of a thug.

“Just stick to your Rico Suave routine.”

Cheo dropped his fork on the table. “You think this is some kind of act?”

With hunched shoulders and a tilted head, Cynthia asked, “Well, isn't it?”

“
Mira, mamí,
look around, there aren't too many guys around here who look like this.” Cheo waved his hands up and down. “I have a job and don't have any kids, so you're fooling yourself if you think I'm doing any of this to get some sex.”

Those curt words shocked Cynthia. She'd heard much worse from Marvin. Still she wasn't expecting anything like that from Cheo.

“This is a serious conversation that should be held over dinner, or at the very least lunch, not brunch. Please don't mistake my advances for an act. I just want to be there for you, and I hope you will let me.” He took another bite of a wing and wrapped his free hand around hers.

“My savings are going to be gone soon. I need a job.” Cynthia covered her mouth in shock that she had just blurted that out.

“A job, no problema.” Cheo leaned back in his chair and whipped out his cell phone, crossed his legs, and began yammering away. “Hey, Mitch. How are things going? Good, I'm glad to hear Tricia and the boys are doing okay. Listen, I've got a friend over here who needs some work. You think you can do something for her?” Cheo flashed Cynthia the thumbs-up signal. “She'll be down there bright and early.” He put his phone away and leaned in closely to Cynthia. “On Monday morning go down to Office Staff 911 on Main Street, ask for Mitch, and he'll hook you up.”

“Cheo, what are you saying?”

“I'm saying if you can read, write, and type, then you've got yourself a job. That was Mitchell Montgomery, the CEO of Office Staff 911, the largest temp agency in Richmond, and he's agreed to hook you up. I accept kisses as a form of payment.” Cheo pointed at his cheek.

“How did you do that?” she asked nonchalantly trying pretend she was not extremely impressed.

“Being a photojournalist for the
Richmond Sun
has its perks. No one wants me to catch them on their bad side, so everyone does what they have to do to remain on my good side.” Cheo licked his lips and proceeded to chow down on the remainder of his chicken wing.

Cynthia entertained the idea of giving Cheo a kiss, but a voice inside her head reminded her of her commitment to Marvin.

“Cynthia, I don't know what happened to you. I don't know what he did to you. What I do know is those things won't happen to you again, not with me.” Cheo arched his eyebrow and leaned in a bit closer to her.

“Cheo, I'm messy.”

Placing one hand over hers, he scooped it up and kissed the back of her hand. “Please, let me help you put everything back on the shelf.”

The constant ringing of the telephone didn't prompt Marvin to move from his spot on the couch. He raised his index finger pointing in the direction of the ringing and mumbled, “Keith,” from under his blanket.

“Hello?” Keith said into the telephone receiver. “Yes, he's here, hold on. Daaad,” Keith shouted. “Dad, the phone.”

Marvin pulled the purple crochet blanket from over his head and let it fall to floor. Cynthia knitted it when she was pregnant with James. She was hoping for a girl the second time around. Muddy Waters' “Come Back Baby” bounced from the walls. Marvin snatched the phone from Keith and returned to the couch. “Yeah,” he grumbled into the receiver.

“Are you okay, Marvin? I saw Cynthia's picture on the news. Why didn't you tell me?”

“I just thought this was going to go away quickly and then she just never came home. Now the police are trying to make up for lost time quickly. They're hoping some media coverage will get her home soon.”

“You should have said something to someone at the garage,” Jade said reprimanding Marvin.

“Jade, umm, it's kind of a personal thing,” he said in a slow drawl.

“I know, but it's also something you shouldn't be going through alone. You and the boys need some kind of support.”

“Well, uh, we been doing all right,” he said languidly. It was the early evening, the shades were drawn shut, something red and sticky covered the living room floor, Keith's car collection was parked randomly throughout the house, and dust was mounting on the furniture.

“Well, until things are settled, is it fine by you if I come by and check on you from time to time?”

“I'd like that.” Marvin smiled at the thought of seeing Jade's honey-colored eyes and bright smile. That was exactly what he needed, he thought, a break from the haze that had settled over his life this past week.

“Would you like me to come over tonight,” she moaned into the receiver.

“Yes, I would like that very much. You know I live in Harlem.”

“I'll pull your address from your file and get one the guys to drop me off nearby,” she said.

“See you then,” Marvin said hanging up the phone.

 

 

Marvin opened the door the first time she knocked without asking who it was. After several visits from the police and Mildred, since she had convinced them he may have done something to Cynthia, he'd stopped asking who it was and had begun hoping one of these days when the bell rang, it would be Cynthia saying she'd lost her keys.

He'd rehearsed it several times. She would stand at the doorway brushing down the hair at the nape of her neck, twitching nervously. “Marvin, I couldn't find my keys. I knew you would be upset, that's why I didn't come home. I've just been searching everywhere for them.” And then all of this would be over like a dream.

When he opened the door, it was Jade standing in the doorway in a burgundy belted trench coat that hugged her petite waist. Her hair was slicked back, drawing attention to the fire brewing in her honey-colored eyes.

“Marvin, are you going to let me in?”

He stepped aside so Jade could cross the threshold. Jade's eyes widened as she looked at the dilapidated apartment.

“Jade, I'm sorry about the mess. I wasn't expecting you so soon.”

“Marvin,” she said, slowly unbuttoning her coat, “I could tell by the sound of your voice that you needed someone.” Jade took a few steps farther into the apartment. “Where are the boys?” she asked resting her coat on the arm of the sofa.

“In their room playing video games,” Marvin whispered, “and it's best we don't disturb them.”

Marvin studied Jade as she walked through the apartment as if she'd been there before. She grabbed a blue tumbler from the cabinet and poured Marvin a little gin and juice that she'd brought along with her.

Marvin sat down at the dining room table, staring in amazement at how quickly she'd adapted to her new surroundings.

“There's nothing like a wet palate to relieve the stress of the day,” she noted as she placed the tumbler in front of Marvin.

Marvin took leisurely sips of his gin and juice while Jade immersed herself in the mess Cynthia's absence had created. She dived into the disaster like an Olympic swimmer.

Starting with the kitchen, her bun began to unravel with each stroke she put in while scrubbing a pot with rice stuck to it. Marvin watched her as she tossed stale food in the garbage. She spent, stretched, and pulled in one fluid motion. Her slender body looked like melting wax. After the kitchen she began working on the mess in the dining room.

“Do you want any of these?” she asked, her hands filled with a bunch of business cards and store circulars.

Marvin traced the cards' edges imagining they were her collarbone. He plucked Detective Laurel's out of the bunch. “You can chuck the rest.”

She worked on the living room, stacking up his record collection. Marvin's eyes followed her as she bent down to pick up the crochet blanket. When she rose, she found herself eye to eye with Cynthia. It was a portrait of Cynthia in front of city hall on their wedding day, holding a small bouquet of flowers. Her admonishing gaze transcended time and filled this moment. He wondered what Jade would do now that she'd been confronted with the reality of the situation: she was just filling in.

He'd known for a long time she had been waiting for this very moment.

She'd been waiting for him since the very day he strutted into the garage like a peacock, with his broad shoulders spread and his goatee trying to hide the dimple in his chin.

“Excuse me, miss. Where is the office?” He'd leaned over the desk and asked in a slight hum rather than shout over the clanging and banging of the trucks and the grating of the gate used to transport trucks in and out of the garage. He preferred to get up close and personal; it was part of his charm.

He laughed a little, recalling the dazzling smile Jade had flashed in an attempt to extract more than a name. Yet he remained reserved throughout her performance. She'd tilted her head, batted her eyes, and propped her breasts on the counter while pointing him in the direction of the office. He'd remained focused on his goal: secure a job to feed his family. There would be time for the women later. Marvin made sure to let her know there was a small opening for her in his world by the way he held her hand as he thanked her for helping him: his heavy hand resting on hers, his fingers lodged between hers, squeezing tightly with each syllable.

That was so long ago. But her presence and the craving in her eyes revealed she had not forgotten their first meeting either.

Marvin's eye darted back and forth from the full moon to Jade's confrontation with a photo of him and Cynthia. He knew he wasn't the same man in the photo or the one she'd met in the garage. He was a little bent, a crooked version of himself, but there was enough left over for Jade to grab on to. He cocked his head to the side and raised his top lip a bit, signaling this was the opening she had been waiting to slither into.

She glided into the dining room and embraced him as he sat on the plush chocolate seat. “I'm going to go home now. Marvin, call me if you need anything.” She leaned closer to him. Her breasts grazed his back; her breath set his skin aflame with every syllable she cooed hitting his neck.

“Anything, Marvin. Anything.”

“Jade, it's too late for you to go home alone.” Marvin stood.

“You can't leave the boys alone. Don't worry about me,” she said, resting her hand against his chest. “I'll be just fine. As a matter of fact, I'll call you when I get home, Marv.” She smiled. “Okay?”

He scooped up her delicate hand and cradled it in his palm. “Thank you, Jade. I hope you'll come back. Soon.”

“Take it easy, Marv. I'll see you soon.”

As soon as the lock turned and Jade was out the door Marvin found himself alone again with Muddy Waters. It was just him and his records. When he inherited them from his father, he was the same age as Keith. The records weren't the only thing passed down. Marvin inherited his philandering ways from his father who had a second family in Brooklyn. Marvin never knew his father all that well; he didn't get the chance to. The moment Marvin's mother, Arlene, found out about his other family, she put Marvin's father out. He still came around every now and then for a drink, for a smoke, and for a kiss.

The only difference between Marvin and his father now was that Marvin didn't have to leave his home to get a drink, a smoke, or a kiss.

 

 

Two days later, Jade returned on her day off with bags from McDonald's for the boys and drinks for Marvin.

This became Jade's regular routine and Marvin liked it. She came over two or three times a week instead of trying to set up shop. Somehow Jade had managed to get on to the day shift making her visits to Marvin's easier. She usually came over after her shift while the boys were sleeping. She'd tidy up and then, no questions asked, she'd take Marvin by the hand and guide him to the bedroom or they'd lie on the couch wrapped in each other's legs, smoking cheap cigars, listening to Charlie Parker.

The evenings he spent with Jade were enough to keep him until his wife came back home.