Dream Girl Awakened (22 page)

“James Dixon, are you coming back down here or do I need to come getcha? You know you've got a lot of taming—”

The voice rising from the basement startled Victoria. She dropped her purse.

“Sorry. I didn't know you had company.”

Victoria eyed the leggy woman wearing skintight corduroys and a fitted pullover sweater. She had an interesting look: braids on one side of her head, the other side loose. She didn't want to imagine how it got that way. She would have labeled her attractive were it not for the snarl on her face.

“Paris, I asked you to wait downstairs.”

“Is she joining us?” Paris pointed to Victoria. “She looks like she could use some of your magic.”

“Go!” James instructed playfully.

“All right. I'm just saying! Thought she might like to get in on the action, too.”

Paris went back downstairs, humming a tune under her breath. Victoria was at a loss for words. James said they were separated, so that didn't give her the right to say anything. Then again, it did. Guilt consumed her when she thought of how loyal Aruba had been to her. She was out early in the morning seeking her counsel and shoulder to cry on. The least she could do was say something to James about how he was mistreating his wife.

“James, how could you do this to Aruba? She's been a good wife and mother. The least you could do—”

“This isn't what you think, Victoria.”

“A woman flounces up your stairs, asking you to tame her, and it's not what I think?”

“She's—”

“Save it! I'm going to see Aruba now, and I'll think about whether or not to tell her what I've seen. It's amazing how men think they can get away with random bullshit like this!”

“What? The doctor's wife can curse? Imagine that. Look, I don't owe you an explanation for anything. Tell my wife I love her and I'm waiting for her to come home. Good day, Victoria.”

Victoria stormed out of the house, jumped in her vehicle, input Aruba's address in her GPS, and headed out to visit the only real friend she had. Her aunt and mother were wrong; women were to be more than tolerated. She shuddered at all the times she looked down on Aruba in judgment when all she wanted was a listening ear. How many times did Aruba set aside time to listen to her desperate housewife woes with empathy? How many times had she watched Nicolette with no questions asked, but she always found an excuse when it came to watching Jeremiah?

Her thoughts journeyed back to the first time she met Aruba eight years ago. Aruba had contemplated purchasing a home in their old neighborhood. It was decent enough. The homes in the neighborhood
went for the mid $300,000's. Certainly not a place she'd want to call home forever, but she hung in there with Winston's conservative ways until she convinced him a larger home was befitting a man of his status. Back then it was rare seeing a black face in the neighborhood, and particularly so young. After spying Aruba in the information center, she waltzed in for a look-see and chitchat. Victoria stopped in her tracks as she heard snippets of the conversation between the Realtor and Aruba through a half-cracked door. Victoria gathered the financing had fallen through due to bad decisions on someone's part. The words “credit score,” “payday loan,” and “repossession” tumbled out in the same sentence. Aruba pulled Kleenex from a decorative box on the desk as she uttered disbelief over her husband's marred credit history. Victoria continued eavesdropping as the Realtor suggested that Aruba purchase the house alone. In that moment, Victoria decided the young woman needed a friend. She waited until the conversation ended. She casually stepped to Aruba—still wiping tears and staring at a smaller floor plan—and asked her to come over to her house for a cup of tea. That day was enlightening and equally scary for Victoria. Reaching out to another person, and especially another female, was murky terrain. How many times had Marguerite staved off friendly advances from other Hollywood actresses? Marguerite's paranoia probably had cost her valuable contacts, leading roles, and hip pajama parties filled with good old-fashioned signifying interlaced with discussions about men and purses.

“Who knew why Marguerite was so guarded?” Victoria asked aloud. She turned into the parking lot of Aruba's new place, knowing she could no longer operate on Marguerite's beliefs. Now more than ever, she and Aruba needed each other. She'd see to it that their friendship would become stronger.

“S
ummer Ermine.”

“How many letters?”

“Five.”

“Any cross clues?”

“Aruba, just give me a word, babe.”

“Try ‘stoat.' ”

Winston filled in the crossword puzzle and smiled at Aruba. The
Indy Star
crossword puzzle was their first of the morning. They'd tackle the
New York Times
and the
Los Angeles Times
puzzles next. Music, crossword puzzles and Sudoku were his weaknesses. Having a woman like Aruba working with him to complete the brain teasers pleased him all the more. Victoria often wrinkled her nose at the puzzles, said they were for old fogeys who didn't know the value of a good sale.

Aruba sidled closer to Winston. “Twenty-eight across is ‘A-B-E-T.' To assist in a crime. Bet you know some abettors.”

“I may have met a few in my time. Ask a patient needing healthcare and they'll likely say HMOs are abetting the system in denying quality.”

“Shall we continue using the word in sentences?” Aruba asked, kissing Winston's cheek.

A kitchen timer buzzed, interrupting the intimate moment.

“I'll get your breakfast, Winston. Don't finish the puzzle without me.”

“When did you start—”

“You're not the only romantic one around here. I think you'll like everything I've prepared.”

Aruba slid out of bed, then headed downstairs to the kitchen. She kept the oven temperature warm, so his turkey bacon would be crisp, just the way Winston liked it. She had given up showing Victoria how to cook bacon when she said the cast iron skillet was too heavy and too much trouble to use. Aruba scrambled eggs and added shredded mozzarella cheese to the skillet. Winston liked his juice freshly squeezed, his coffee with two sugars and hazelnut cream, and his grapefruit sliced in quarters and sweetened with Splenda. She collected his likes and dislikes over the years in a journal she kept locked in the glove compartment. She hoped he'd be pleased that she'd noticed. She skittered up the stairs, breakfast tray in hand, smiling from ear to ear. How long would Winston be able to spurn her advances? This was just the beginning for them. She'd show him just how much he needed her in his life.

“What have we here?” asked Winston.

“Just a little nourishment for your tired soul. I figured—”

The doorbell startled them.

“Are you expecting someone? Do you think it's James?”

“He doesn't know where I am. I ordered a few things online, but I didn't expect the items 'til next week. Amazon's getting faster, eh?” Aruba slipped on a pink fleece housecoat to hide her lingerie. Didn't make sense to let the UPS man see all her wares.

“I'll be right back. Enjoy your breakfast.” Aruba kissed Winston's hands and headed downstairs. The doorbell rang twice more. “I'll have to sign for the package. Damn, what
did
I order?” she muttered under her breath.

Aruba swung open the door, gasping at the sight of Victoria.

Victoria was too distraught to receive the same chilly reception
from Aruba she'd received from James, so she blew past Aruba quickly, plopping down on the sofa and kicking her feet up on an ottoman.

“Victoria, how did you find me?” Aruba's eyes darted up the stairs. “What are you doing here so soon?”
Breathe, Aruba, breathe.

“I don't mean to disturb you, but I have no one else to talk to. Please just hear me out.”

Aruba stood a few seconds, then sat across from Victoria. She looked at Victoria, wondering what had happened to her friend. Her standing appointment hadn't been honored in at least three weeks. Her short hair, normally curled and teased, was standing over her hand and appeared brittle, unconditioned. She ran chipped nails through her unkempt hair, searched Aruba's eyes for sympathy.

“I stopped by your house and James told me where to find you.”

“Did he?”

“He said he wouldn't bother you and that he'd give you your space. Why didn't you tell me the two of you were separated? I could have helped in some way.”

“I guess it's been hard to find the words to express what I feel about the situation.”
One Mississippi, Two Mississippi. She's going to say something stupid.

“We're in the same boat right now. Winston . . . Winston left me. He's not returning my calls, he's not at his office, I can't find him; I'm so lost right now.”

Aruba leaned forward, feigned shock. “No, when did that happen? I thought you two had the ideal relationship. I know you had issue with him being gone so much, but I never thought he'd leave you. I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding.”

This was the confusing part. Victoria didn't know how to proceed. How much of your business were you supposed to share with someone else? She shrugged her shoulders.

“Let me get you some tea, Victoria. Orange-pomegranate or blackberry?”

“Blackberry, please.”

Aruba sauntered nervously to the kitchen. Luckily, she'd left her cell phone in the kitchen charging. She'd text Winston and beg him to stay put. She felt so awkward, so dirty. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. She could barely look Victoria in the eyes. The word
homewrecker
rolled around in her mind as well as the hard questions Winston had proposed the night before. She stole glances at Victoria while preparing the tea. She snatched her phone from the counter when it vibrated. She sighed with relief as she read Winston's text:
Got your message. I'm staying upstairs.

Aruba rejoined Victoria on the sofa with piping hot tea, yogurt, and fruit.

“Thank you, Aruba. I don't think I can hold the fruit and yogurt down, but I appreciate the tea.” Victoria took a sip, leaned back on the couch.

“Before we go any further, I want to apologize to you.”

“Apologize?”

“I've been a lousy, horrible friend to you and I'm sorry.”

“Where is this coming from? I'm not quite sure what—”

“Please let me finish. From the time I met you, I knew you were someone special. We didn't become acquainted under the greatest circumstances, but I admired so much about you the day you came by for tea. You have strength and drive I wish I possessed. You're beautiful. You're intelligent, and I wish I had half your determination.

“I'm just a housewife who latched on to a good thing, and I've taken him and you for granted. Do you think you could ever forgive me?”

Aruba exhaled. Those were the last words she expected to hear.
“You don't owe me an apology. People get busy, have things to do. Friendships aren't tit for tat, deed for deed. We all get preoccupied from time to time.”

Victoria took in Aruba's words. Aruba was doing it again, letting her off the hook for crazy deeds. “I agree that friendship isn't tit for tat, but it should be reciprocal. I haven't been a good friend and I want to make it up to you,” said Victoria. She sipped her tea. “Tell me what happened with James.”

“I . . . I don't even know where to start.”

“Wherever you want is fine. I barged in here asking for your shoulder with no consideration for what you might be going through.”

“Well, let's just say I'm not sure how much longer I'll be married. James and I had a big fight this time and I don't see us patching things up.”

“What was the fight about?”

“James thought I was cheating. He rifled through my purse, found some business cards, and assumed I had a thing with one of the male business owners whose son goes to Jeremiah's school.”

“If that's not the pot calling the kettle black,” Victoria blurted.

“What's that supposed to mean?” asked Aruba. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Slip of the tongue. I didn't mean it.”

“Hey, the cat's toe is dangling out of the bag; you may as well let her out.”

Victoria sighed. “When I stopped by your house this morning, James had . . . there was another woman there. He tried to assure me nothing was going on, but I didn't give him a chance to explain.” Victoria inched closer to Aruba, stroked her hand. “I'm sorry, Rube.”

Aruba knew she couldn't panic. She remembered her transgressions one story up and willed her knees to stop trembling.

“James is James. We're getting a divorce, so I guess he's testing the waters.”

“That's another thing I admire about you. You have character and integrity. You could be with a slew of men, as gorgeous as you are, but you're alone. That's rare in this day and time.”

“Enough about my pitiful world. What's going on with Winston?”

Victoria's pensive face resurfaced. “We're separated. I know it's my fault. I pushed him away with my attitude and unrealistic demands. He wanted to share so much with me and all I ever did was gripe about money, gripe about making love to him, gripe about his absence.” Tears welled in Victoria's eyes as Aruba's eyebrows arched as if stunned. “Yes, that's right. As good as he is to me I had the nerve to ration sex like food. I just wish I could turn back the hands of time. I don't think he even wants me anymore.”

“Don't say that. I'm sure that's not true.”

“It is. I took a lap-dancing class to spice things up and I blew it. I don't even think he got aroused.”

Aruba's eyes fixed on the cat wall clock in the kitchen in an attempt to stifle the laughter welling inside her. Victoria didn't have an ounce of rhythm, and she'd told her so on those rare occasions they'd ventured out to a nightclub or couples' functions. “So he left you because of a lap dance?”