Playing the Hand You're Dealt (28 page)

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Authors: Trice Hickman

BOOK: Playing the Hand You're Dealt
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I knew that Tyler was right, and I wanted Ed to have a clear head when we discussed the future of our relationship. “Let's get dressed and go downstairs so we can talk.”
I poured us glasses of orange juice, and then we went into the living room. I purposely sat at a small distance from him on my couch and began to speak. “What's the next step for us?” I asked.
“I think the answer is obvious,” he responded in his always confident tone. “We want to be together, so now it's time to make it happen.”
“How do we do that? How can we be together without hurting people?”
“We can't. People will get hurt. That happens in life.”
I had to believe that this was the pragmatic lawyer side of him talking, the one driven by facts and rooted in what was tangible and what could be proven. It was a proven fact that people got hurt all the time, but that it would be at my hands was still hard for me to accept.
“Emily,” Ed continued. “We avoided this for eleven long years because we knew that people . . . that Brenda and Sam would be affected, so we never acted on our feelings. But in the meantime we suffered, or at least I did,” he said, shifting his position on the couch. “I suffered every time I saw you, secretly wanting to be with you but knowing that I couldn't. I suffered every time I heard Sam tell me about a new guy you were dating. I suffered when I saw you at your mother's funeral and I couldn't be the shoulder you cried on. I'm tired of suffering. I'm ready to start living again, and I'm ready to do it with you.”
I felt everything he felt, and I told him so. Now it seemed things were simply a matter of logistics.
“I'm going to divorce Brenda,” he said. “I know one of the best divorce lawyers on this side of creation. I'll meet with him tomorrow and spend the next week or two getting my ducks in a row before I serve her with papers.”
“She'll be devastated.”
Ed shook his head. “Not for the reasons you think. She'll get over it.”
I didn't want to delve into the complexities that spurred his comment, so I focused on what I understood. “What about Samantha? She'll have a very hard time dealing with this.”
“Maybe in the beginning . . .”
“You think she'll accept this . . . us?”
“What other choice does she have? Sam loves both of us, and after she gets over the initial shock she'll be happy for us.”
I looked at Ed as if he'd lost his mind. How could he possibly believe what he was saying? Were we talking about the same person? Samantha, the ultimate daddy's girl. His daughter was more territorial of him than Brenda had ever been. She was loyal and protective of him, just like she was of me. He wasn't her father, he was her daddy, and I wasn't her friend, I was her sister. I knew she would see our being together as a serious violation of the bonds she had with us. At that moment, I became more concerned about my potentially shaky relationship with my best friend than I was about being the home-wrecking other woman. “Samantha will freak out,” I said. “I just know it.”
“Sam's excitable, but she's not unreasonable. She's in a good relationship now, and she's coming into a good place in her life. She can handle it.”
“I hope you're right.”
Ed moved in closer and took me into his arms. He pulled me on top of his lap and held me in the same position I boldly claimed last night. “What matters now is that I love you, and you love me. The rest is immaterial.”
“You think it's that easy?”
“No, but for now I want to enjoy what we have, what we've waited so long to feel.”
Gently, we kissed, our tongues darting, circling, and commingling inside each other's hungry mouths. I could feel the moisture between my legs return and the familiar rise of Ed's well-endowed manhood awaken under the weight of my hips. I smiled, slid my knees to the floor, and unzipped his pants. When I took him into my mouth, we both forgot about hurt, divorce papers, and everything else except the feeling we were sharing, right here on my cozy chenille-covered couch.
Chapter 27
Samantha . . .
 
 
 
 
A Chance at Redemption
 
L
ife was throwing me curveballs, and over the past week I'd hit every one of them as I rounded the bases. From my surprise reunion with Tyler, to moving into my new house, to my debacle of a birthday party last night. I had managed to dodge the pitfalls. But even with all the unexpected twists and turns, nothing could have prepared me for the giant fastball that came out of nowhere and hit me square in my head when I woke up this morning and saw my mother's number flash across my cell phone.
Tyler and I were lying in bed when we heard the loud chirping of my phone. I fumbled over to my nightstand and looked at the caller ID. “Oh, shit,” I cursed.
“Who is it?”Tyler asked with concern. I knew he was worried that it might be some mess surrounding Carl. Before we fell asleep last night, he told me that he was extending his trip a few extra days, just to make sure I was safe.
“It's my mother,” I sighed.
His face looked a little relieved, but only slightly. “Are you going to answer it?”
I paused for a second trying to decide whether I wanted to have my day ruined now, or put it off until later. My life had always been full of bad decisions that resulted from my inability to deal with situations in a mature manner, but now I was working toward being a better me, so I decided to bite the bullet and answer my phone. “Hello, Mother,” I said in a flat tone, bracing myself for bullshit.
“Good morning, Samantha . . . um, how are you feeling?” she asked nervously.
Something was wrong. I could feel it. Mother never wanted to know how I was doing and she never sounded nervous, practically jittery, so I proceeded with extreme caution. “Could be better, but I won't complain.”
“Listen, I, um . . . I feel bad about what happened last night.”
I sat straight up in bed like someone had just thrown ice water on me. Tyler sat up beside me looking alarmed and mouthed, “Is everything okay?” I hunched my shoulders because I didn't know for sure, but I listened as Mother continued.
“Samantha, I spent a lot of time thinking, all night, as a matter of fact.There are moments that make us reassess our lives, and what happened between us last night made me do that.”
You mean the way you slapped the shit out of me?
I wanted to say, but was too stunned to speak because I couldn't believe my ears. I listened to Mother explain how she regretted the way our relationship had spiraled down to nothing short of hateful contempt. And while she didn't acknowledge responsibility for being one of the major causes of our mother/daughter demise, she said that she wanted us to make amends, starting today. “Can you come over this afternoon?” she asked. “I was hoping we could have a late lunch or early dinner and celebrate your birthday again.”
I nearly peed in my panties. “She wants to have lunch,” I mouthed to Tyler, who was still looking on with concern. I didn't know what to think. Naturally, I became suspicious of her real intentions. Mother always had an angle for everything she did, and now I had to find out what it was, and because I was a straight shooter, I just put it out there. “I've heard everything you said, but honestly, I don't trust it because I don't trust you.You want me to believe that after thirty years you've all of a sudden had an epiphany? All because you and I had a squabble, which we've been doing all my life?” It was the Sabbath, and I knew God would appreciate me keeping it real, especially since I'd held back the profanity that leapt to my tongue.
Mother let out a loud sigh. “I don't blame you for having reservations. I guess I haven't been as supportive as I could have been. But, Samantha, I tried, in the best way I knew how.”
She sounded genuinely hurt, and I'd even go as far as to say remorseful. I thought about what she had said, that she had tried the best way she knew how. It was as if someone had placed a mirror in front of my face and let me listen to my own words. It was the same way I felt about CJ. I had neglected my son in an effort to protect him from
me
. It suddenly dawned on me that maybe all these years my mother had been emotionally unavailable for the same reason.
Mother sniffled, and then paused as if trying to hold back tears. “Please, Samantha. Give me a chance to make things right between us. I don't have another thirty years.”
My heart softened. The new me was willing to give her a chance. “Okay, I'll come over this afternoon.”
After I hung up the phone, I rehashed our conversation with Tyler.
“Sounds like miracles do happen,” he said in amazement.
“Yes, you and I are proof of that. I trust what we have. I know this is real. But my mother . . .”
“At some point you've got to let go of the anger and fear.”
“Easier said than done.”
“You have another chance, one that many people wish they had.Your mother is still here, and you can turn things around.”
“So you think I'm doing the right thing by going?”
Tyler nodded. “Yes, I think you should go see her.”
I showered, combed my hair, applied my makeup, and searched through my closet trying to decide what to wear. I was a little nervous about seeing Mother, but I wanted to look good, even if I didn't feel it. Finally, I slipped into my favorite pink dress and fastened the posts of the elegant David Yurman pearl and platinum earrings that Tyler had given me for my birthday. I decided to go bare at the neck, opting to cap off my accessories with a pair of beautiful bone-colored Gucci pumps.
Tyler left to meet Jason for lunch, and we agreed to meet back here this afternoon, and then we would take CJ out for ice cream. I smiled at the thought that I was leading a normal, grown-up life.
I stepped outside, got into my car, and headed for Emily's house. I hit her up on speed dial and told her about my conversation with Mother. Bouncing things off Tyler was great, but Emily had always been the steadfast, stabilizing force I knew I could count on for sound, logical advice and a mature perspective. She balanced things out for me and always led me in the right direction.
“This sounds major,” Emily said.
“Yeah, it is.That's why I want to talk to you about it.”
“You know I'm here whenever you need me.”
“Great, can I come over now? I'm two minutes away.”
“Um . . . sure.” She paused.
“Cool, I'll see you in a sec.” I knew I could count on my best friend.
Minutes later I rang Emily's bell. She opened the door still wearing her bathrobe. “I can't believe Miss I-get-up-at-the-ass-crack-of-dawn is still lying around the house in her bathrobe at this time of day,” I said.
Emily shook her head nervously and laughed. “Yeah, um, come on in.”
“Are you okay?”
She coughed, clearing her throat as she pulled her bathrobe tight around her waist. “Just a little tired.”
I peered at her closely. “Maybe you're coming down with something. I can come back later.”
“No, no,” Emily urged. “I want to hear all about your conversation with your mother.”
I took a seat on her couch and repeated what Mother had said, almost word for word. I looked into Emily's eyes and could see that she was torn. She usually defended Mother and made excuses for her nasty behavior. But I think after last night, witnessing firsthand how mean-spirited, bitter, and downright vicious my mother could be, it made her jump on the
Brenda is a bitch
bandwagon on which I and everyone else rode.
“So, what do you think?” I asked.
Emily sat back and let out a sigh. “I think you should take her at her word and approach it with a clear and open mind.”
“But you saw how she treated me last night.”
“Yes, but today's a new day.”
“She's been a bitch for over fifty years. She hasn't changed overnight.”
“Maybe not, but everyone deserves a chance at redemption.”
“I just have trouble believing that my mother is sincere. She's got to be up to something.”
“I don't know, Samantha. Maybe last night was really her wake-up call,” Emily said. “One thing's for sure, you'll never know until you talk to her, face-to-face.”
“You're right.”
“Let go of the past and begin with a clean slate, starting with your visit today.” She smiled, then paused. “That's what you're doing with CJ. You're working toward developing a relationship with your child. It just took your mother a little longer.”
Emily was right, as usual. After talking with her, I felt more optimistic about the visit and what it could possibly mean for a better understanding between my mother and me. This was what I had always wanted, but now I couldn't understand why I was fighting it so hard. I didn't know if it was fear of disappointment, or the fact that I just flat out didn't trust her. In any event, I knew that as Emily said, the only way to find out the real deal was to meet with Mother and see for myself.
I was about to leave when I noticed a beautiful diamond bracelet dangling from Emily's wrist. “
Ooohhh,
let me see that.” I perked up as I reached for her hand. “I know an exquisite piece of jewelry when I see one. And this, my friend, is a genuine prize!”
I recognized it right away. It was the Tiffany & Co. Jazz bracelet set in platinum. I knew this because I had looked at it a few months ago when I treated myself to a shopping spree with the “please forgive me” money that Carl had sent me after one of our big blowouts. I glanced under her coffee table and saw the signature blue box that confirmed it had come from Tiffany. A birthday card sat beside it. I raised my brow and said, “Who gave you a fourteen-thousand-dollar bracelet for your birthday?”
Emily's eyes widened to the size of baseballs. “Fourteen thousand!” she gasped, looking at her wrist as if dynamite was hanging from it.
“Girl, you've got nearly three carats of some of the finest brilliant cut diamonds you can find, all wrapped around your wrist.”
“Samantha, are you sure this bracelet cost fourteen thousand dollars?” she asked in awe.
“Hell yeah, I'm sure.You should never doubt my fashion acumen.” I smiled proudly. “The question is, who gave it to you and what did you do to get it?” I asked, raising my brow again. I reached for the birthday card, but she quickly took it from my hand and placed it in the gift bag beside the coffee table. “Emily, I can't believe you're holding out on me.You better give up the 411 right now.”
I looked around the room to see if I could find any clues and sure enough, I did . . . right there in front of me. “Is he here?” I whispered.
“Who?” Emily asked, looking flustered.
I pointed at the two half-empty glasses that sat on her coffee table. “Whoever was sipping orange juice with you this morning and has you so worn out that you're still in your robe,” I said. “Yeah, you're coming down with something all right, a case of dick-itis! Girl, you better give up the info right now.”
She looked nervous and embarrassed, and now I knew why she was off-kilter when I walked through her door. I knew my friend, and I knew she couldn't hold out forever. “So, you finally gave in and took the step,” I said, nodding.
“I . . . I don't know what you're talking about,” she stammered. She was a terrible liar.
“Yes, you do. And Emily, it's all right. I'm not going to judge you for wanting to be with him.” I smiled, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I know you've been fighting this for a long time. But there comes a point in your life when you have to break your own rules and follow your heart. I think it's great that you're finally doing that.”

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