Broken (16 page)

“As if?” I texted.

“Geez, girl! Well, seems she has a little tiff going on with Cece,” she texted.

“How do you mean?”

“She tweeted this today: Warning, step back, apparently good girls give up for that,” she texted.

“So?”

“Then Bradley tweeted: Deuces! Then Henrietta tweeted back: He's a loser! Cece can have him.”

“Oh, no!” I texted.

“She put C on blast! Should we send it to C?”

“She might get mad. Why don't you tweet something like: ‘Stop the nonsense. Hearsay is cheap.' Try and stand up for her,” I texted.

“Um, I don't want to be on Henrietta's hit list.”

“Really?” I texted.

“I don't want to be in the middle of this. You should send it.”

“If someone tweeted this about me and you didn't tell me, I would be hot,” I texted.

“True. Will send it to her.”

“At doc's. Hit you back later,” I texted.

“Milan,” a nurse approached me.

“Hi,” I followed her to the examination room.

“Hi, Milan. How are you, sweetheart?” Dr. Pierce gave me a hug and a kiss.

“I'm well. How are you?” I said. She looked at her chart. She flipped through the questionnaire I had filled out.

“Why are you here today, sweetheart?” she signed.

“We don't have to sign. It's cool.”

She looked at me like I had just told her the sky wasn't blue. “Is there something I don't know about?” she signed and said.

“I can read lips just fine,” I said.

“Okay. Well … is it okay if I sign? Just for me. I was sort of excited to see your name on the patient list today. One, because I hardly ever see you and you used to be one of my favorite patients! Two, I never to get practice my signing.”

“Okay. If it's our secret,” I smiled.

“Great!” she signed.

“I get these really bad stomach aches.”

“How often?”

“I've had a couple this week?” I said.

“Okay, lie down. Does it hurt here?” She poked around the middle of tummy.

“Yes!”

“What about the lower abdomen?” She poked around some more.

“No, not really.”

“Does it hurt after you eat?”

“Today, for example, I didn't eat lunch. And it was hurting on my way here,” I said.

“So it hurts when you don't eat.”

“Also, last weekend, it was killing me, and I did eat,” I said.

“How many meals a day are you eating?”

“Two, maybe three, if we count a latte.”

“Every day?”

“Definitely two,” I replied.

“Some people need to eat more frequently. And a latte is not a meal. Eating less acidic foods may help. I'd like to refer you to a nutritionist to help create a diet that will
help neutralize the acid in your stomach. You need to go there next week. I'm not going to prescribe anything just yet. I'm going to reluctantly recommend an over-the-counter antacid. You can't use this more than twice per week. I feel like your job might be causing stress.”

“I think it's the sleep. I get tired sometimes,” I said.

“Well, you are new to modeling?”

“Not really, I've been doing it for over a year.”

“You are definitely getting a lot of exposure and experience, sweetheart. Your mom would be proud. You have modeling, you have school, you have friends, and it's a big plate. How often do you exercise?” She searched through my chart. “It says here five days a week.”

“I have gym every day,” I said.

“How long is gym?”

“Almost an hour, but after they take attendance and I get dressed, it's like 30 minutes.”

“You talk to your friends during gym?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Okay, I need you to exercise by yourself, three times a week, for 30 minutes each time.”

“Okay.”

“Have you done yoga before?”

“Yes, I do yoga in gym,” I said.

“What do you think about doing yoga three times a week?”

“I could try.”

“Good. I like yoga because at the end they do meditation. It's good for stress busting. I need you to come back in four weeks.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Now, you know, Milan, when you were little, Glenda, rest her soul, she used to bring you to church with her. You used to play with my daughter, Malorie—I don't know if you remember her.”

“Sure, I remember Malorie. We went to junior high together.”

“That's right.”

“Tell her I said hi.”

“I will. You are always welcome at church. We are having a youth social in two weeks. Check it out. It is on the website.” She pulled out a business card for the church with her name on it from her white coat pocket. She was a deaconess. I was quiet for a moment. I once read in a book on the history of Native Americans that silence was a sign of respect. Great Chiefs would wait a period of silence before speaking if someone had spoken before them. This was because they were in contemplation. It's not that I didn't want to consider it. I was unsure about God sometimes. I knew he existed. I still hadn't figured out why he had taken Mama away.

The walk home was somewhat more pleasant than the walk to. “I'm home early,” Merek texted me.

“How was the trip?” I texted

“Can I see you? It was cool. Kinda miss you.”

“I don't know,” I texted.

“Tonight?” There was that acid again. The walk should've counted for exercise.

“No.”

“Why?”

I wanted to make him happy. I just didn't answer. I wasn't sure what to reply. “Can we talk?”

“When?”

He called my phone. I didn't answer. “In person.” I texted him.

“When?!!” he texted.

“Tomorrow. Or, like we planned, Sunday,” I texted.

“I'm just trying to treat you good. Be real. Why do you want to ignore me?”

I stopped at Alice & Wonderland's Tea Cup. I was on the hook. “Come meet me now for tea,” I texted.

“Where?”

“Lex, near our fave deli.”

“I'll be there. Wet kisses.”

He arrived two cups of Earl Grey tea later. I watched from the window as he parked his mom's Cayenne. Watching him walk up to the table made me kind of nervous. I stood up. He hugged and kissed me. I felt slightly overwhelmed. I had put him at the back of my mind.

“How are you, princess?” he smiled.

“I wish.”

“What?” he asked.

“I just came from the doctor's office. I've been having these stomach aches.”

“Oh.” His whole face changed.

“I thought I was in for it. But now I think I can take care of it,” I said.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better. Tea helps. I have to join yoga.”

“My mom does yoga on the West side. This place called Yure. She says it's the best yoga in the city.”

“What do you know about yoga?” I asked.

“I only remember the name because she's always talking about it.”

“What does she say? ‘Oh, Yure. It's simply spectacular.'” I threw my hand on my forehead for dramatic effect. He laughed. I laughed. “Your mother is so sophisticated and proper. She is really cool!”

“Not as cool as you.” He gave me a wet kiss.

“I have to look at the yoga schedule,” I said.

“Yoga will help?”

“She said it would be good to meditate.”

“You have a lot of stress? Every time my father says something my mother doesn't like, she says, ‘I have to meditate this stress away.'” We both laughed.

“Your mom is the best!” I glanced out the window, thinking about what things would be like if I was with Merek forever. Had I even considered it? Before I could catch my breath, I saw Dimitri and Cara walking toward Bloomingdale's. I brushed the hair away from my face and took a deep breath.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“I need my own apartment.”

“One semester away from your wish, princess,” he said.

“True. I hadn't thought of it like that.”

“That's why you have me. I'm crazy outside the box!” He laughed. Uh! The smile that could melt a snowman in an ice storm.

“This is cool, but how about we get an ice cream?”

“Yes! Again—I hadn't thought of it. But it is just what I want.” There he goes pushing my buttons, I thought. The more I liked him, the sadder I began to feel. I felt a little disloyal. With every smile, was he washing away my memory of Noel? We walked to the car hand in hand. I turned to him to ask him which ice cream shop we should visit. Before I could say anything, he kissed me. Then he brushed my hair back away from my face.

“Maybe we'll go stop at the yoga studio on the way home, baby?” he asked.

“Okay.” It was then I felt for the first time that I could love him. He opened my door. I slipped into the car. Once he got into the car, he tapped me.

“Milan!”

“Yes?”

“I don't know … I was talking to you. It's like you were ignoring me.” Had I forgotten so quickly? He was in love with Milan, not me.

“I'm sorry,” I said.

“No worries.” He kissed my forehead. He smiled. I smiled.

It had been dark for more than three hours by the time I got home. I was so tired. I felt a little like I had been kidnapped. When Merek had an agenda, there was no steering him another way. He almost had me at the Four Seasons. I had to threaten to jump out of the car at a red light. I couldn't say it didn't feel like he was trying to make me fall in love with him. I shook my head at the thought. If that was on his agenda, I'd have a struggle on my hands. We had grabbed a bite at Kent Coffee & Chocolate. It was so hard not to love spending time with Merek.

My feelings of rapture were abruptly interrupted at the sight of Cara and Dimitri fumbling across the foyer with ice cream sundaes in tow.

I blew past them. “Hi, darling!” Cara said.

“Hi,” I flashed a fake smile. “Dimitri,” I said. He just rolled his eyes. I hustled to my room. I was sure to lock the door behind me. I grabbed a pair of keys from my jewelry box. I ran to my desk. The bottom drawer was locked. I opened it. Inside was a small, bolted-down safe. I put my finger on the lock for a finger scan. Inside were copies like my will, trust documents, my father's will, deeds to the trusts' properties. But most important was the copy of the deed to Mama's apartment down on Waverly, right by NYU. This was going to be my college apartment. At least, that was the plan I'd concocted. I hadn't even submitted my application. I guessed what they said about best-laid plans were true. I never expected it would come to this.

I held the deed in my hands and the will paperwork that transferred ownership to my trust. This was the apartment that Mama had when she met Daddy. He came there to pick her up on their first date. When they got married, he bought the apartment. They planned to let their first daughter live there. “Mama, please forgive me,” I prayed.

I made sure to lock my bedroom door upon leaving. I spotted Daddy in the Great Room. “Hi, Daddy,” I said. This was a first. Home by nine on a weeknight and out in plain sight. I hadn't seen my father in the Great Room for months.

“Milan. How are you?” he said and signed.

I was speechless. “… I'm fine, Daddy. How was work?”

“Work is well. I'm …” he adjusted his tie.

“Yes?”

“I'm taking some time off, starting next week.”

“What are you going to do?” I said. He shrugged. Then he looked in my eyes. He searched them for something. “Are you taking a trip?” I asked.

He contemplated this. “Kind of. Perhaps. You … can you come to my office on Monday? There is someone I'd like to introduce you to.”

I stared at him. His pupils certainly didn't look dilated. I traced the room with my eyes. No drink rings on the coffee table or the end tables. The wet bar was spotless.

“Okay, Maybe, Daddy.” I walked away slowly. I turned back around. He smiled at me. I was scared.

With the papers rolled up in my hands, I walked with determination. I couldn't let Daddy shake me. The day he decided to have a breakdown had to be the same day I
learned I possibly had an ulcer. My stomach started to burn. That wasn't going to stop me either. I knocked on Dimitri's door. I waited a few seconds. Then I knocked again. I waited 10, maybe 15 seconds. I opened the door. Surprise, surprise. Cara had him pinned down in a scandalous version of strip Twister. Unfazed, I advanced into the room. “Dimitri, I need to speak with you.”

“What for?”

“Waverly Place?” I said.

“What?” he said.

I raised my eyebrow. “Nice La Perla, Cara.”

“Thanks.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Go, Dim. I'll be here … maybe,” Cara laughed.

I walked out of the room. I went to the guest bedroom in his wing. I didn't need to check if he was behind me. He may have liked Cara. He could've loved her. But there was one thing about my brother I could use to get his attention. You see, his share of money wasn't enough. He really wanted mine as well. And he wasn't shy about it.

At the will reading one week after Mama had been buried, to the day, he screamed and cried with rage when Richard, Daddy's lawyer, announced Mama had left the apartment to me. Of course, the monies she left Noel also made him angry. By the end of the will reading, he stormed out. Noel and I just sat there, waiting for Dad to do something. Instead, he just stood up, brushed his suit off, and shook Richard's hand.

I sat down near the fireplace. I turned it on. Dimitri entered the room, with a curled lip and a furrowed brow. “Close the door,” I said. He reluctantly closed it. I walked over to the window. He followed. “So this is simple. I don't have time to waste.”

“Yo, you called me in here. What you want?” he said.