Love Becomes Her (6 page)

A
nn Marie had decided to do some last-minute food shopping before going home. She felt kind of bad about what she’d said to Stephanie, even though every word of it was true. She couldn’t understand why people got so unnerved by her. She spoke her mind. And sometimes the truth hurt, even if it wasn’t intentional. The truth was, Stephanie was a corporate tramp. Didn’t she admit to sleeping with her boss and lawd knows who else to get where she was in the company. Hmmph, but when she says something everyone gives her the screw face. Was she wrong?

She parked her car and went inside. As usual on a Saturday evening the megasupermarket was packed. She made quick work of picking up the items she needed and got in line.

Behind her was an older and a younger woman. They were having an intense conversation about the upcoming elections and Ann Marie was quite amazed
to hear the young girl’s views on the state of the world and the responsibility of politicians to their constituents. What was more amazing was that the older woman seemed truly interested in what the young woman was saying, asking probing questions and adding her own opinions. The conversation shifted from politics to hip-hop music, books and the latest fashion trends while they waited for their turn with the cashier.

“Ma, we forgot ketchup,” the young woman said.

Ann Marie turned, shocked. Mother and daughter, talking like friends?

The realization unsettled Ann Marie in a way she could not quite grasp as she witnessed a smile akin to love light up the woman’s face. The girl got off line, darted around shopping carts and customers then disappeared down one of the aisles.

She couldn’t ever remember having a conversation with her mother about anything beyond household chores and school. In her mother’s house, you listened and that was it. Children were seen and not heard and she’d raised Raquel the same way.

She put her purchases on the conveyor belt, paid with her credit card and walked out with her two plastic bags of groceries.

On the drive home, she suddenly felt lost and very alone, as if some major piece of her existence was suddenly missing and she didn’t know why.

Ann Marie returned home to the aroma of stewed fish and callaloo. Her stomach growled.

Raquel was in the living room watching television and quickly turned off the TV with the remote when she heard the key in the door.

Even at the age of twenty-three she was still afraid of her mother. Not that her mother would physically harm her, but she would withhold any semblance of kindness for the smallest infraction.

All her life Raquel believed that her mother held her happiness in the palm of her hand and would crush it on a whim. She was never sure what it was that would set her mother off on one of her verbal assaults and then the silence that followed, which was far more punishing. She’d spent years trying to win her mother’s love, but it was never forthcoming.

When she married Earl she believed that she was finally free, that she’d found someone to love her and make her feel worthwhile. Her fantasy was short-lived. And now, without any real friends or family to turn to, she’d come back to the one place she’d hoped never to return to—home.

“Hello, Mama.” Raquel quickly got up to help Ann Marie with the bags.

Ann Marie’s lips pinched into a line for a moment. “I didn’t think you’d hear me with the television up so loud. All you young people are deaf.”

“Sorry,” Raquel murmured, even though she knew the television had been barely audible. “I prepared dinner. I can fix you a plate if you’re hungry.”

Ann Marie glanced around her precious space. Everything was as it should be. She released a breath of tense air.

“Maybe later.” She left her bags with Raquel and went into her bedroom shutting the door behind her.

She sat on the side of her queen-size bed and took off her shoes and out of nowhere she wanted to weep. The feeling crept up from the soles of her feet and rocked her as they shot to her heart and poured from her eyes. Raquel’s unexpected return into her life made her angry, sad, confused and uncertain of herself.

Raquel symbolized all that was wrong with Ann Marie, all that was incomplete. But if she could keep Raquel at a distance, out of sight and out of mind, she wouldn’t have to think about anything below the surface. She wouldn’t have to struggle with emotions that she didn’t know what to do with. She wouldn’t have to be a mother.

“M
s. Moore,” the nurse at the front desk of St. Ann’s Nursing Home said in surprise. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“I know. I just needed to stop by. Is it all right if I see her? I know it’s late…”

“Sure. I know it will make her happy.”

“Thanks.”

“You can go in. She’s in her room.” She handed her a pass.

Stephanie clipped the pass onto her sweater and walked down the hushed corridor. She stopped in front of room 262, knocked gently then opened the door.

Samantha sat in a chair by the window, her favorite spot. Slowly she turned her head, sensing a presence behind her. A hint of recognition lit her eyes and a crooked smile formed on her mouth.

“Hey, sweetie,” Stephanie said, slowly approaching. She knelt down in front of her twin sister and took her hands. “How are you today?”

Samantha stared blankly. Stephanie didn’t expect a response. Samantha never uttered more than an inappropriate giggle or unintelligible sounds.

Stephanie stroked her sister’s cheek and tried not to cry. “Did you have a good day? It was so pretty outside after the rain last night.”

Samantha’s gaze drifted toward the window as if she may have understood, but Stephanie knew better. According to the doctors, Samantha had suffered extensive, irreversible brain damage in a car accident more than fifteen years earlier. Stephanie had been able to walk away.

Every day since, Stephanie blamed herself. She’d been the one to insist that Samantha accompany her to the party. Sam hadn’t wanted to go. She was tired and wanted to study for her final exams. She had aspirations of being a doctor one day. But Stephanie, always the stronger willed of the two, convinced her. And she’d spent every waking hour since that fateful night regretting it.

So she placed her sister in the best facility that New York had to offer. Cost was no object, she’d insisted to the doctors. She would find a way to pay for her sister’s care, and she did.

No one knew about her twin sister, not even the girls. It was her albatross to bear, her private penance.

“I’ll come back tomorrow, okay? And maybe we can go for a walk on the grounds. Would you like that?”

Samantha looked at her sister and for an instant the unfocused eyes seemed to register and then nothing.

Stephanie swallowed over the tight knot in her throat, stood, then leaned down and kissed Samantha tenderly on the cheek. “I love you, sweetie.”

Before she let her sister see her tears, she turned and hurried out of the room. She leaned back against the wall and shut her eyes. She would do whatever was necessary for Samantha. Anything.

Pulling herself together, she tugged in a long breath then walked to the reception desk, promised the nurse she would return the next day and walked out.

Yes, she would do whatever, even if it meant sleeping with Conrad until the end of time.

She drove off and headed home to wait.

T
he last person Elizabeth expected to see when she returned home was her husband sitting in the living room as if nothing had happened.

Matthew stood when the door shut behind him.

A short breath caught in Elizabeth’s chest. “What are you doing here?” She put her purse on the table and walked fully into the room.

“I came to pick up my things. But I didn’t want to leave without speaking to you first.”

“Oh, really. How thoughtful!” she spat out.

Matthew glanced away for a moment then back at his wife. “Can we talk?”

“I was pretty sure you’d said everything you wanted to say to me.” She folded her arms.

“Ellie, we don’t have to make this any harder than it already is.”

“Is that right? Well, in your world, Matthew, just how hard is it? Does it keep you up at night, does it make you look in the mirror and ask yourself how
you could have done this?” Her voice rose in pitch. “Does your stomach turn every time you think about throwing twenty-five years of marriage out the window? Do you think about how you’ve made me feel? Tell me, Matthew, how hard is it?”

Her breathing came in short rapid bursts and if she wasn’t holding her arms around her waist she was certain she would fall apart.

“I’m sorry, Ell. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Bull! What do you think you’ve done—made my day?”

Matthew heaved a sigh then ran his left hand across his face. His diamond wedding band flashed and Elizabeth’s stomach twisted.

Elizabeth lifted her chin. “Are you living with her now?”

“No. I’m staying at a hotel.”

Elizabeth stepped farther into the room, but kept her distance from Matthew. “Why, does the child still live at home with mommy?”

“She’s thirty.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “What do you want to talk about? So that you can say it and get out of my house.”

“I want to talk about the house.”

Her eyes cinched. “What about it?”

“I want to give you enough money to…find something else. When the divorce is final, I want to move back in with Terri.”

Elizabeth felt all the wind leave her lungs and she nearly doubled over with the sucker punch.

“W-hat?” she stammered.

“I want the house. I’ve paid for it all these years and—”

“You have lost your mind. You think your money is what kept this house and this family afloat all these years?” She arched her neck and spewed a nasty laugh. “You are a fool.” She began to circle him in predatory fashion, forcing him to turn as she did. “And if you think you and your tramp girlfriend are going to move in and move me out, you are in for the fight of your life. Now, get your things out of
my
house before I call the police and have you removed.”

She spun away and stormed off to the study, slamming the door behind her before she broke down and asked him to stay.

Elizabeth stood still as stone, listening to Matthew move around in the bedroom, opening and closing drawers and closets, and then silence.

She waited a few minutes more until she heard the front door close. It was only then that she released a breath. She expected tears and an overwhelming sensation of defeat and sadness.

Oddly enough, she didn’t cry or feel sad or fall apart. Nor did she have any desire to run behind him. Instead, she felt strong, stronger than she’d ever felt in all her years of marriage to Matthew.

Throughout all their time together she’d let her needs and wants take a back seat to her husband’s. She’d never questioned, never disagreed, never put her foot down. And now that she had, it felt damn good!

She’d been raised in the old school: a woman’s place was in the home at her husband’s side, and in his home he was king. It was the life she’d seen with her mother and father. They’d been married for fifty-one years. That was what she’d hoped for, for her and Matthew. Her mother and father would be stunned. They believed Matthew could do no wrong and that she was lucky to have a man like him. The twins would be devastated. They worshipped the ground their father walked on.

Elizabeth knew it would be an uphill battle to make them all believe that Matthew’s infidelity wasn’t her fault.

She straightened her spine. They could think what the hell they wanted. She knew the truth and truth always won out.

She checked the time on the overhead clock above the six-foot bookcase. The girls should be closing up the store in another hour. It was time she had a talk with them.

W
ith the ladies gone and plans made to meet Monday evening, Barbara had every intention of doing nothing more strenuous with her evening than watching television.

This weekend had been one for the record books. She would never have imagined hearing the things she’d heard from her friends—women she’d been

so close with for the past decade. And she would have never imagined herself sleeping with Michael, either—not that they’d done much sleeping.

She kicked off her shoes and put on her slippers then went into the kitchen to see what she could toss together for a light supper. She turned on the radio that she kept atop the fridge and hummed along with Aretha’s “Ain’t No Way,” while she prepared a grilled-chicken salad. She added the last of the toppings and was reaching for the salad dressing when the doorbell rang.

With a slight frown, she set the bottle of Italian dressing on the counter, wiped her hands on the burnt-orange dish towel and went to the door.

She wished for the zillionth time that the landlord would get that front-door lock and the intercom fixed. Any and everybody could walk into the building. It wasn’t safe.

“Who?” she asked, then took a look through the peephole. The only thing she could see was a profusion of roses in every color of the rainbow. Her heart thumped. It was either a very classy serial killer or that fine young thang. “Who?” she sang again.

“How many men do you generally have coming to your door with three dozen roses? That’s the real question.”

Barbara covered her mouth to hold back the screech and did a quick flash-dance step before turning the lock. She tugged in a lungful of calm, schooled her expression and as slow as she pleased, opened the door and stepped back to let Michael in.

“Good thing I’m in shape. These are heavy,” he said over the crest of the blooms.

They were magnificent. Red, yellow, peach, white and a deep orange that rivaled the sunset sat regally in an enormous crystal vase.

“Michael…” She was actually speechless.

“I know I should have called first.” He gently set
the vase down on the center of the coffee table then turned to her. “But I knew if I did, you’d come up with a million reasons why now was not a good time.” He grinned sheepishly and walked toward her. “I don’t take rejection well. Just ask my coach.”

Damn, he’s fine
. “You’re probably right…about me saying no.” Her voice sounded as weak as she felt. And why did he have to make it worse by looking at her as if she held some secret that he couldn’t wait to get his hands on.
Ooooh, those hands
.

“So I figured I’d bring a peace offering, to be on the safe side.”

He was right up on her now. His arm snaked around her waist.

She was having trouble breathing. Lawd, please don’t let me have a heart attack. Not now! “They’re beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like you…them before.”

“I want to fill your whole world with beautiful things.”

His thumb massaged that spot at the base of her spine—
yeah, that spot—right there.

“Hmm,” slipped from between her lips, and her inner thighs began to tingle.

“If you let me,” he continued an instant before enveloping her in a kiss that made her toes curl inside her slippers.

When Michael released her, she felt as if she’d
suddenly been dipped in cold water, and she wanted to run back into the heat of a moment ago. Good sense prevailed.

She straightened and tugged on the hem of her T-shirt to give her hands something to do besides running them up and down his body.

“I, uh, was fixing a salad.” She swallowed. “You’re welcome to join me.”

“Sure.”

He followed her into the kitchen and she suddenly wished she had on something more appealing than a faded pair of gray sweats and a T-shirt.

“You look great,” he said while he took a seat at the island counter.

“And you need glasses.” She walked to the fridge and took out a pitcher of iced tea.

He folded his large hands on top of the counter. “Why is it that every time I tell you how good you look or how wonderful you are you always dismiss it as though I’m handing you a line?”

She stopped short, taken off guard by the edge in his voice. Slowly she turned around to face him.

“I don’t dismiss what you say.”

“Of course you do and I want to know why you think you are so unworthy of a compliment?”

Barbara pressed her lips together for a moment, trying to find the words to explain the constant uncertainly that warred inside her since he’d come into
her life. She pulled out a chair from beneath the counter and sat down.

“Michael, let’s be honest. I’m forty-nine years old. I’ll be fifty in six months, eligible for AARP for heaven’s sake! And you…you’re young enough to be my son. I have to color my hair every four weeks to keep the gray away. I’m slightly overweight. I don’t know a thing about rap or hip-hop. My favorite pastime is watching television. The only man in my life since I’ve been an adult was Marvin, my high-school sweetheart. I’m totally clueless when it comes to…dating.” She blew out a breath. “Michael, my idea of excitement is having more than one drink with my girlfriends on Friday night.”

“You’re not that much older than me. I’ll be thirty in two weeks. I like the gray…it gives you class, but if you want to cover it up, not a problem. If I don’t work out on a regular basis I’d be a blimp ’cause I love to eat. I prefer classic R&B and jazz to hip-hop and rap any day. I love relaxing in front of the tube and I haven’t had a steady girlfriend in five years. And like you, I enjoy a drink with the fellas to unwind, too.” He looked at her with a smirk. “What else ya got?”

Barbara lowered her head and chuckled.

“So, instead of looking at all the reasons why not, look at the reasons why. I really like you, and you like me. You’re intelligent and so am I—contrary to the
belief that jocks are dopes. There’s no question that sex between us is off the charts.”

Barbara felt her face heat.

Michael reached across the table and took her left hand. He looked deep into her eyes, his expression intense and serious. “I read books, too,” he said.

Barbara looked at him. The corners of his mouth quivered and she burst out laughing.

“And I can make you laugh.”

She nodded and kept on chuckling. “That much is true,” she managed to say. Slowly she sobered. “Mike…it’s not going to be easy.”

“No relationship is.”

“We’re from two different worlds.”

“You bring me yours and I’ll bring you mine.” He squeezed her hand a bit tighter. “I want to get to know everything about you and I want you to know me, too. As much as I’d like what we do in bed to be no more than a booty call, I want a real relationship and I want it with you. The booty is extra.”

Barbara broke up laughing again. “You do have a way with words.”

“I try.” He waited a beat. “I meant everything I said.”

She nodded her head slowly. “I believe you.”

“Well…how about it, Barbara? Can we try this thing for real?”

A million excuses ran through her head, all the reasons why the two of them were a bad idea. She
was a rational woman. She thought things out. She wasn’t impulsive. She knew the kinds of looks she would get and the comments that would be made about her. But she didn’t care. For once in her life she was going to be impulsive, she was going to throw out her reservations. She was going to give them a chance and herself a chance at happiness again for however long it lasted.

“Okay,” she said finally. “Let’s try.”

A smile broke out across his face that lit up the room.

“And in honor of this momentous occasion,” he said ceremoniously, “I want to ask you out on our first official date, in public, this weekend.”

“This weekend?” she squeaked.

He nodded. “You pick the place.”

She drew in a breath. “Okay. Um, how about dinner at B. Smith’s?”

“Wherever you want. Not a problem. And to wrap up the night, dancing at the Knitting Factory in the Village.”

“Dancing? I haven’t—”

“Danced in ages? Me neither.” He grinned. “It will be an experience for both of us.”

“It sure will,” she said, and was actually looking forward to it. Wait until she told the girls. Hmm, dinner and dancing. She’d have to do some shopping.