Don't Ask My Neighbor (17 page)

“We’re here,” I said, grabbing my suit jacket from the back seat. I stepped from the car, leaving the key in the ignition like I knew they would request. I walked around to the back of the car and joined Priscilla on the other side.

“Who told you I wanted Indian?” she asked, walking through the doors to Rasika.

“When was the last time I even cared about what you wanted for lunch?” I asked, laughing at her.

“Welcome back.”

“What?”

“That ass I know you can be.” She laughed, and pushed me playfully in my shoulder.

I asked myself sometimes where would Priscilla and I be if it weren’t for Samantha. Priscilla blew my mind every time she opened her mouth. I was very pleased to meet her, and if nothing else, I value the friendship we developed. She spoke in a faded southern accent, which she often tried to disguise. It never worked, but I guess you can’t blame a girl for trying. What if meeting Priscilla was GOD’s plan all along, and I had disrupted it by enacting one of my own. I’m not even sure any man could cause disorder in how GOD worked in our lives, but Samantha managed to do exactly that.

Priscilla and I ordered Tandoori Lamb Chops and Black Cod before we were comfortable seated at a small table in the back center of the restaurant. Even in the afternoon, we were more than content with the ambiance created by the quiet and the gold, rectangular lamps that hung from the ceiling and on the walls. Original contemporary Indian art embellished the room and its decisive design. A bottle of Pinot Noir complimented our meal
s, and was used to toast DeVince’s victory.

“You know if I leave this place feeling like I’ve just spent a Friday evening at happy hour, I’m blaming you,” Priscilla said, finishing her second glass.

“We don’t have to worry about that. That feeling is encouraged after a hard-fought victory.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it hard-fought,” she corrected, refilling her glass.

“Hell, they don’t know that.” I laughed.

I pushed my empty glass across the table and waited for Priscilla to fill it. The waitress returned to the table to give an update on our lunch. The storm that was brewing in my stomach had been settled both by the first glass of wine and by her announcement that I wouldn’t have to wait too much longer to satisfy my craving. Priscilla can pretend if she wants to, but she was in a hurry to feed her hunger, too.

“I do want to ask you something?”

“This isn’t about E.J. is it, cause I thought we left that conversation in the car?”

“No, this isn’t about him.” I leaned into the table. “What are you doing next Friday?”

“Right now, I don’t have anything planned. I’m not sure if,” she answered quickly.

“Good,” I interrupted. “You’re coming with me to play spoiler on Friday. It’s time to pay Ms. Samantha Wells another visit. Oh, it’s a dress to impress affair, something I know you do very well.”

After my invitation, lunch with Priscilla was enjoyed mostly in silence, especially when our Cod and Lamb arrived. I gave a silent praise to the chef, since the fish was good enough to lick my fingers after each bite, except I had the appropriate utensil in hand. Priscilla gave her compliment to the chef, too. After a few bites, and a few more sips of wine, she excused herself briefly to entertain a caller. When she returned with that same smile she displayed as she read the text message in the car, I assumed it was from E.J. Marshall, the new man I still had not met. I was happy for Priscilla, but I was just hoping, praying actually, this wouldn’t be another whirlwind romance where she had no problem giving, and he had no problem taking all she ga
ve without giving anything back. Maybe I should give him the benefit of the doubt. She was usually complaining to me about them by now, so that I heard no mention of him until that day after the hearing was proof she had actually picked a good apple from the bunch. I wouldn’t be seeing Priscilla again until after I got back from spending Thanksgiving with my mother. She was looking forward to seeing me this year, especially since I missed the last three years breaking bread with the family.

All that transpired after court that day was somewhat deliberate, except the conversation that transpired with Priscilla about her new love. I knew lunch would get us closer to the end of the day since it was Thanksgiving eve and the day would end at 2:30 p.m. At the office, I grabbed an almost empty briefcase, since I had no intention of focusing on my next case until after this short break. I still had to go home and pack for an early morning flight.

Twenty-Eight

_________

You Make My Heart Go

Kennalyn

IF YOU HAD TOLD PARKER CHANDLER one day he would find himself alone, again, he would have stared you down with his penetrating eyes and told you how much you lied. Nigel meant everything to him, and when he held their son in his arms for the first time, he knew the best thing had just happened to him.

For most of his life, Parker had been sacrificing the things he thought he wanted for the things he knew he absolutely needed. He had dreams, and he knew of only one way to make those dreams his reality. He still wanted to make his mother proud, even though she wasn’t around to tell him how proud of him she was already. He didn’t think much about pleasing a father who had already made it known he was already disappointed in what he was doing with his life. Parker already knew there was only one thing
about him that disappointed his father, but he stopped caring about that after he told his mother the truth about himself. After his revelation, she whispered, “I love you”, and then took her last breath.

Parker lived in a four-bedroom, two and a half bathroom brick front colonial in a quaint and quiet neighborhood in northern Virginia, a stone’s throw away from the NW Washington D.C. area. The pleasant memories of living in his childhood home had been tainted by his mother’s death. Still moving out was the last thing he would think to do. He loved to tell stories about his mother, especially on Thanksgiving. He said it made him feel like she was right there with him.

Parker was in the middle of one of his stories. He sat in one of the sand-colored counter stools, downing Mimosas. That was the first thing he requested when I asked him to come have Thanksgiving dinner at my house with the kids and me, and he was there before the sun rose, finishing his sleep in the upstairs guest room at the end of hall, closer to Cody’s room. My original plans to take Cody and Alexis to my mother’s had been aborted, thanks to my father’s decision to surprise her with a cruise. Even though she needed it, his perfect timing could’ve waited until Christmas or her next birthday, ‘cause I was looking forward to spending some time with my mother.

“So this is what it feels like to have a man in the house,” I said, smiling at Parker.

“What are you talking about? Cody is here.”

“Don’t go making my boy a man before I’m ready. His father already tried that.”

When I came downstairs that morning, Parker had breakfast ready. Beef cubes and potatoes were removed from the oven and sat on one of the stove burners. Eggs had been scrambled and covered in a saucepan. We sat at the dining room table laughing and joking. I could tell Parker missed that sometimes. The life he thought he would live with Nigel and Keaton was being lived, once again, by himself. Before he met Nigel, Parker was almost certain the worst thing that could have been done to him had already happened when his mother died, but Nigel leaving and taking Keaton with him almost matched the pain he felt and the emptiness in his heart.

After breakfast, Cody and Alexis went back upstairs and left Parker and me in the kitchen, praying we wouldn’t be slaving all day to put dinner on the table. With turkey in the oven, the greens on the stove, and the cornbread already finished, the kitchen smelled like one in a five-star restaurant.  I walked in the living room and then back into the kitchen carrying a small envelope. I placed it on the counter in front of Parker.

“What’s this?” he asked, opening the envelope and removing the small card. “It’s an invitation to Samantha’s Awards Gala next Friday.”

“Yeah. Did you get yours?”

“Oh, I got mine. Everyone in the firm is expected to be there. The question is, who would invite you to an event to honor someone like Samantha?”

“Someone who thinks I needed to be there?”

“Felicia?” Parker asked, looking at me with questioning eyes.

“Look, Parks. Maybe Samantha finally found where I live, or she knew all along, and sent it herself. Maybe she wanted to rub this accomplishment in my face, if you want to call it that, just like she did when she was able to get my husband to fall for her.”

“Ex-husband,” he corrected. “Gage is your ex-husband. But after all these years of you not bothering her, why would she want to add fuel to a dying fire? What are you not telling me, Kenna?”              

I contemplated telling Parker the truth, but I only had a little more than a week to keep up the charade. It’s not that I didn’t trust Parker, I just wanted to make sure everything worked out, and the less he knew about Felicia the better. “Nothing,” I said, but Parker didn’t respond. He stared off into the distance with glossy eyes. “Are you still here?” I asked after Parker’s silence became deafening.
             

“Yes. I’m here,” he said, snapping his head back to his reality.

“You can’t stop thinking about him, can you?”             

“It’s really hard for me to.”

“Sounds to me like you’re lost without him.”

“I kinda am, Kenna,” he confirmed.

I wanted Parker to be all right. I knew Keaton was his world, and not being able to spend time with him was tearing him to pieces. He already missed his birthday, and now he could add Thanksgiving to the list.  I looked at my watch. It was a few minutes past noon, which meant Cody and Alexis would be coming downstairs for lunch. When I looked up from my watch, the doorbell rang.

“Are you expecting someone?” Parker asked.

I didn’t respond to him. I got up from the stool and headed toward the front door. I looked back over my right shoulder to make sure Parker wasn’t following behind me, and then opened the door without asking who it was.

“Hey, Nigel,” I whispered.

Nigel and Keaton stood at the front door. I didn’t think he would accept my invitation when I asked him to join me for dinner. He knew Parker would be joining us as well.

“How are you, Kenna?” he asked, guiding Keaton inside. I was glad to see them both, and I couldn’t wait to see the look on Parker’s face. Nigel and I shared a warm embrace, something we did not do when I saw him three weeks before. “Is he here yet?” he asked, letting go.

“How are you, my handsome nephew?” I stooped in front of Keaton and whispered.

“Hi, Auntie K,” Keaton said, hugging my neck. He mimicked my volume as if he were hipped to this little game his father and I were playing.

Keaton was growing and looking more unlike his mother. Though I haven’t met him, I presumed Keaton was a short replica of his biological father. I imagined he looked just like him, ‘cause he damn sure didn’t have anything for her. It’s almost as if her DNA had nothing to do with his make-up, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, either. His curls fell evenly around his head.  His brown eyes displayed a loving intention, and his smile was to die for. How could you not love a young boy with a smile like his?

“Kennalyn, who’s that?” Parker yelled from the kitchen, but I ignored him and continued my walk back into the kitchen with Nigel and Keaton following closely behind.

I smiled, anticipating Parker’s reaction. I stopped at the kitchen door and allowed Nigel to pass. He paused just inside and pointed toward Parker, who stood at the sink with his back toward us.

“Daddy,” Keaton yelled, running over to Parker.

He whipped around at the sound of Keaton’s voice, but then froze briefly when his eyes met Nigel’s. He bent to meet Keaton as he jumped into his arms. I suspected their reunion would be as emotional as it was. With one hand around his body and another cradling his head, he held Keaton securely in a long embrace. Keaton kept his hands around Parker’s neck, holding him just as tight. Parker smiled as the tears flowed.

“I love you, man,” Parker said, as he tightened both arms around Keaton. “Thank you, Nigel,” Parker added, finally acknowledging his presence with words.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Nigel said, walking over to him. He stood next to Parker with his back pressed against the counter. “I’d planned on bringing him to see you today, anyway. It just happens it’s here and not at your house. Plus, he’s been asking about you a lot more lately, and to be honest with you, I’m running out of excuses.”

“You mean lies,” Parker corrected.

They looked at each other and laughed.

“He doesn’t know that,” Nigel said, moving closer, and rubbing Keaton in his back.

I stayed at the door, watching this new normal family. They behaved as if they occupied the kitchen by themselves, and I didn’t mind that my company was being ignored. Happiness had crept back into Parker’s face. It was good to see him smiling for all the right reasons. He wasn’t consumed with Samantha and what his involvement with her had done to him. He wasn’t overwhelmed with stories of his mother, going down that same lane of memories he traveled every holiday we got together. For the moment, though I hoped it would last longer, Nigel and Keaton’s presence had fixed everything.

“Plus, I’m tired of answering Shara’s questions, too. I love her, but you know how I feel about people in my business, especially family,” Nigel continued. 

“So you coming here is about his mother?” Parker asked, finally putting Keaton down.

“Come on, Parker, man. Me coming here is about us. If this has anything to do with Shara, it’s that she chose us to raise Keaton because we were stable, unlike all the other jokers in my family.”

Nigel stared at the floor, as if he were tracing the complicated patterns embedded in the tiles.

“Looks like we’ve managed to become one of those jokers,” Parker said, turning around to face the sink. “I’m not going to stay in a relationship because of some promise to your fifteen-year-old cousin.”

I waited for them to ask me for privacy, but that request never came. It’s not like I would oblige. I was going to witness anything between these two, as long as it was happening in my house.

“Fine, Parker. Then do it because of the promise we made to Keaton. And if that’s not enough, do it because.”

“Because what, Nigel?” Parker looked up.

“Because I love you,” Nigel admitted, bringing his eyes to meet Parker’s.

They stood there gazing at each other with Keaton looking up at them. I smiled from across the room.

“Look, Nigel, I know we have to talk.”

“But, can you guys do all that talking after today?” I broke in, walking over to the stove. “For now, let’s just enjoy this reunion, and this turkey,” I said, opening the oven and pulling the container from the oven.

Cody came downstairs to grab a light lunch for him and Alexis, and brought Keaton upstairs with him, leaving Nigel, Parker, and me in the kitchen to finish preparing our small Thanksgiving feast. While Parker stayed in the kitchen carving the turkey and finishing the three apple pies Cody and Alexis requested, Nigel decorated the rectangular table in the dining room.  I asked him to set his place and Parker’s at either head of the table. The kids and I would sit on either side, with Keaton sitting next to Cody. 

The turkey carvings and the two bottles of wine that sat on either side were all the centerpieces we needed. A tall decanter of homemade lemonade for the kids was placed next to that. Before we ate, Cody said a prayer that included thanks for family and friends, and even thanked God for having Uncle Parker and Uncle Nigel with them. I swear, sometimes I forgot he was growing up. During dinner, we listened to Parker share stories about his dealings with Samantha. He looked forward to the Awards Gala and admitted he couldn’t wait to see what surprise Felicia or J.B. was cooking up for her, especially since it didn’t seem as if he was up to doing anything. I, too, would have a front row seat to Samantha’s recognition. I was going to play that day by ear, waiting for the best opportune time to make that bitch finally pay.