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Authors: Cas Sigers

Chocolate Dove (21 page)

BOOK: Chocolate Dove
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“You are smiling now,” said his wife.
“Yes, and I want to say thank you for everything that day. I wanted to repay you.”
“You owe us nothing. You remind me of our daughter,” said his wife before mumbling to her husband in Somali.
“Well, I have something for you. Please take it as a token of my appreciation.” She handed the man the envelope with money. “Go on a vacation with your lovely wife,” she said and quickly left before he tried to return the money. Basra didn't look back. That money was no comparison to what she'd been given that day, but she hoped it would bring them a little joy. She went into a coffee shop and opened her iPad to send e-mails. She was only in school part-time but she wanted to continue her education, and so she e-mailed her professors to see what could be done about transferring her credits. She e-mailed her sister and her best friend back home. She also called Lucia.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
“You know me,” she answered. After a short pause, Lucia exhaled and commented, “I'm tired, Basra.” She sighed.
“You've been going nonstop for a while. Take a break. You have enough money.”
“There's no such thing as enough money,” she commented.
“But you can't party day in and day out for a year and not feel it. Are you taking care of yourself? Eating better, taking your vitamins?”
“Yeah, my body is just tired. Come see me,” asked Lucia.
“I'm going back home to Somalia. I just wanted to let you know.”
“When? Why?”
“It's time. I miss my family.”
“So you're just leaving the business all together?”
“Yes, I told you that.”
“But what about your man?”
“It's not going to work out.”
“I bet. Well, I don't have family to go back home to. This is my life.”
“That's your choice. You need to take a break from it all.”
“Oh, Basra, so naïve. You don't get it.”
“Maybe not, but I'm not going to be miserable if I have other options.”
“Just make you sure you keep in touch. E-mail me from time to time.”
“I will. You take care of yourself.”
“I will. Bye.”
They hung up. Basra could never put her finger on it, but she felt that Lucia was always jealous. Although they weren't that different, Lucia was just as beautiful and had more money, but Basra held a freedom of the mind that Lucia didn't have. Lucia had become a slave to the industry, and it was slowly taking her under. Basra knew she had gotten out just in time.
Basra mailed off her last two months of rent, and finally gathered her composure to write a letter to Grayson. She typed and erased, typed more and then deleted more. Lastly, she closed up and walked down two stores to Duane Reade and purchased some stationary. Writing a Dear John letter was bad enough; at least she could make it as personal as possible.
It took Basra four hours to compose this good-bye note. She wanted to tell him the truth but it wasn't a reality that she could face. Instead, she simply wrote that as much as she loved him, she just wasn't ready for the commitment.
Grayson, even as I write this, I know it's wrong. I wanted to say something to you in person, but I knew you'd convince me to stay. You are a dream, and I have been blessed to meet you, but I'm not ready to be your wife. You are too good for me, and I have so many years to grow. America has swallowed me, chewed me up, and spit me out. I am mush and no good to anyone. I know this all sounds puzzling, but trust me when I say that you will be better off without me. I think some things are meant for a reason, and I have to look at our relationship that way. Maybe God brought me in to restore your faith in your talent and your relationship with your dad. I am going back to Somalia. Please understand that I love you but love doesn't mean that people are meant for one another. Find someone who can truly love you without inhibitions. You deserve that. You are a blessing from heaven and I will never forget you.
Always, Basra
Chapter 19
Grayson spoke with Basra when he first got to California, which was the day before she left for Somalia. Amazingly, she didn't say one word to him about leaving. She had become a professional at turning her emotional gauge from on to off. She even talked to him just before she was boarding the plane home. Still, he knew nothing, and though it was breaking her cowardly heart, she couldn't tell him the truth.
By the time Grayson pulled up to the condo in Brooklyn two days later, Basra was settling in her family's new house in the Calanleey district of Kismayo. She was overwhelmed with joy seeing a home that her family so deserved, a home she was able to purchase for them. Basra was amazed at what the money had done for her family. It had three bedrooms, compared to their old house with two. The extra training classes she'd paid for had landed her mother a job at the hospital, Amina was enjoying Kismayo University, and her brother was developing new communication skills and learning so much from the new school. Basra spent her first day catching up with family. They sat, ate, and laughed until the sun went down. Basra's mother couldn't stop hugging and kissing on her. Basra was praying that she didn't smell the stench of lewdness. She didn't want anything to spoil the preciousness of the moment.
The second night home there was a big celebration in her honor. All of her cousins and community members came out to commemorate her homecoming. As Basra got dressed in a direh, traditional Somali dress, she and her sister continued to catch up on a more personal level without the ears of their mother.
“Guess who asked about you? Dalmar.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I told him you were coming home. I'm sure he's heard about the party tonight.”
“Does his still live in Farjano?”
“Yes, and he's about to start teaching next year when he graduates.”
“That's nice.”
“You know you want to see him.”
Normally this would have sent Basra into overdrive thinking about the life they could have together. She'd instantly gotten butterflies, but instead she simply replied, “I'm just glad to be back home.” All Basra kept thinking about was the husband she'd left behind. She missed him terribly. Although she was across the world, she could smell his Calvin Klein in some of her clothing, including the scarf she wore purposely that evening.
The celebration started about 6:00
P.M.
There was a prayer of thanksgiving for Basra's safe return and then people ate and danced until the hours of the morning. Basra danced and nearly ate herself under the table. Her mom made her favorite dessert, butter cake, and Basra ate half of it alone. She was asked hundreds of questions about New York and America. Her mom had told everyone how she'd gone over there and made it as a big model. She was a celebrity. It was both overwhelming and exhilarating, yet the guilt continued to stir through her soul, so traces of distress surfaced at the tip of every smile. Even still, Basra engulfed herself within her family's merriment, soaked up their energy, and answered every question.
When Basra looked up and saw her best friend, Baahilo, true joy set in. She took off running.
“Aaaah!” Basra screamed. “I can't believe you came!” Basra yelled. Baahilo and Basra were neighbors from the age of six until graduation. Baahilo went to college in Ethiopia at eighteen and Basra stayed in Kismayo to pursue modeling. Baahilo thought she should go to college and they had a very bad argument over it. From this, they stopped speaking. When Baahilo went to school, distance quickly grew between them. Baahilo was very traditional and believed that Basra should not squander the opportunity to get an education. Basra felt like Baahilo didn't think she could make it as a model. It made Basra so angry that she didn't even talk to Baahilo when she left for New York. Baahilo now lived in Ethiopia, working as a nurse, and the two hadn't talked in over two years.
“I can't believe you came. I'm so sorry. I should have told you I got a job in America.”
“I should have called you, and I'm so proud of you. There is no way I would miss this! You look amazing!” she screamed. The two women embraced liked schoolyard girls.
“I heard about everything you were doing. What you are doing for your family is incredible. I guess you were right. Always pursue your dreams.” Basra suddenly felt the guilt that she had flown over 7,500 miles to escape. Baahilo knew Basra better than anyone and instantly knew something was awry.
“What happened?”
“Huh?” Basra asked.
“That look. Something is wrong.”
Basra pulled Baahilo away from the crowd. “I really need to talk to you.”
“I knew it was something,” Baahilo whispered.
She wanted so desperately to pour out the truth and free the guilt that was bottled inside, but she knew Baahilo could be judgmental.
“There's not enough alone time to tell you everything, but I will tell you this.”
“What?” Baahilo screamed, knowing it was going to be very juicy.
“I got married.”
Baahilo was so shocked she couldn't speak. Basra shook her friend to jar the stupor.
“Did you hear me?”
“You got married!” she screamed.
“Shhhhh!” Basra pushed her farther away from the crowd.
“I can't believe you. Who is he? Is he Somali? Is he here?”
“Too many questions. How long are you here?”
“I took two days off, so we have time. Just tell me his name?”
“Grayson Charles.”
 
 
In New York, Basra's husband walked into their apartment, excited to talk about his trip. He'd called Basra all day but he wasn't able to get a response. He had no idea she'd left the country.
“Hey, love, are you here? Hey!”
Grayson placed his bags down and rushed into the bedroom. He looked around and grabbed his cell. While he dialed her number, he walked into the kitchen and saw her note on the counter. Grayson picked it up and started reading as her voice mail came on. He was so shocked, the voice mail played out until the recorder asked, “Are you still there?” Grayson hung up and tried to make some sense of what he'd just read. He leaned against the counter and read it four more times.
“She's gone?” he questioned.
Grayson looked around and tried to shake off the confusion. He picked up the letter again and read it. He called once more and when she didn't pick up, Grayson rushed to his computer and e-mailed his wife. He spoke aloud while typing.
“Basra, I don't understand any of this. Why wouldn't you talk to me? You can always talk to me. Call me as soon as possible.”
Grayson walked back into the kitchen and grabbed his bags. He looked over and saw other pieces of paper that had fallen to the floor. It was the signed annulment papers.
“This is some bullshit!” he yelled. Grayson kicked the counter and went into the bedroom.
That night, he didn't go to bed. He sat on the couch until his body finally gave out and caved over. The anger hadn't given way to heartbreak yet, but by morning, it was setting in. Grayson's love for Basra was real, and he was thrilled about building their life. He was still in complete shock. His cell phone rang and thinking it was Basra, he jumped up and searched for his phone that had fallen in between the couch cushions.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hi, Grayson, it's Molly. Are you and Basra ready to sign your lease today?”
“Uhh. I don't think today is a good day,” he responded. “Basra had to go out of town.”
“When will she be back? It will be the first of the month next week and we need to get you guys in there.”
“I'll call you back.” Grayson hung up, looked through his cell, and listened to his messages. There wasn't one from Basra.
“How could you do this shit!” he yelled. “Fuck!”
Grayson got up, changed shirts, brushed his teeth, and left the home.
Basra slept late the day after the party. She didn't wake until noon and by then her mom and sister had already gone into town. She walked into her sister's room and looked for some shampoo. She saw all of her magazine tears framed and placed on the wall. Amina looked up to her sister and in her eyes could do no wrong. Basra felt the need to protect her and because of her personal experiences wondered if Amina wasn't better off staying in Somalia. Basra looked at the spread she did for
Grazia,
and smiled.
“Admiring your work?” asked Baahilo, who had come into the house.
“How'd you get in?”
“Your mom just came home. Let's go talk. I've waited long enough.”
“I haven't taken a shower yet.”
“Hurry up!” She pushed Basra out of the room.
Baahilo and Basra went to Jubbaland Beach. Basra had missed the white sand and lush green. She dug her feet into the sand and took it all in.
“Okay, so you married him, but then you left because why?”
Basra had thought about telling Baahilo the truth, but overnight she knew it was best to say nothing. Baahilo might have been her childhood best friend, but she couldn't risk the word getting out. They were adults now, and Baahilo was quite a gossip girl.
“I wasn't ready to become a wife.”
“But you loved him?”
“I still love him. I miss him, too. But he wasn't Somali and my parents would never approve of it.”
“So what? You're an adult and you don't even live here. Did you even tell them?”
“No.”
“What does he do?”
“He's a painter.” Basra pulled her cell from her pocket and showed Baahilo some of his work. “He's really talented. We did this art show and people came from all over to buy his work.”
“So he's rich?”
“His family is rich. He doesn't take their money. But he's made really good money selling his paintings. And now he's doing artwork for some hotels in Europe.”
Baahilo smacked Basra across the arm. “Have you lost your mind? You better go back to New York and apologize.”
“I left him a note!”
“You what! You left him a note saying good-bye?”
Basra shamefully shook her head. “I know, I know. But ...”
“But ...”
“There's more.”
“What more? I can't believe this. You were the good one who played by the rules. How could there be more?”
“I got involved with this other guy.”
“While you were married?”
“No. I was involved with him beforehand. But he had lots of money and he was the one who helped me get other rich people to buy Gray's artwork.”
Baahilo was confused but that was the only truth Basra was willing to divulge. “I just did some things I'm ashamed of and I don't think Gray will forgive me if he finds out. But he's going to find out because someone is blackmailing me.” Baahilo's mouth flew open. “Don't look at me like that.”
Baahilo dramatically held her face down. “I don't know what to say.”
“There's nothing to say. I'm back home now.”
“And what will you do here? You have a thriving career there. You have to go back.”
Basra shrugged her shoulders.
“You have to. Even if you don't make up with Grayson, you still have to go. It's New York; you may not ever run into him again.”
“I can't go back. It's just ... I just lost myself. I got caught up in the money and material things. I was doing things I would never do in a million years.”
“You were doing drugs?”
“No, I never did drugs.”
“I was about to say. So what, you messed around with a few men. Who doesn't? You're an adult. It's better than living here, living with your parents and teaching. You were living life and seeing things that most of us around here would never see.”
“You don't understand.”
“I do. You're scared.”
“No.”
“Yes, you saw yourself growing in a direction that you hadn't ever seen before. It was a path that you couldn't predict. You got scared and ran home. That's what you always did when were little.”
“No, I didn't.”
“Yes, whenever I'd want to go do something that was a little different, you'd try it until it got hard. You don't like complications. If you can't control the outcome of things, then you leave it alone. I think you were scared to love Grayson and I think you were scared that he might forgive you for whatever it is you've done, and then you'd have no more excuses.”
BOOK: Chocolate Dove
9.33Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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