Second Thoughts (20 page)

I allowed her to speak without any interjection. For the first time, I listened to the pain in her voice.

“And now what? You want me to throw away what I have with Shedrick and give you another opportunity to hurt me? No thanks. You got your only chance to hurt me.”

“I would never hurt you again. Just give me a chance to show you.”

“Gosh,” she laughed, “I swear, if women got paid every time a man fed them that lie. You weren’t supposed to hurt me to begin with, DaMarcus. I never expected life with you to be perfect, and I don’t expect perfect with Shedrick, either. But I never thought our ‘for worse’ would be me walking into my own bedroom and seeing my half-naked husband and our goddamn accountant. And all I’ve been hearing for the last years is ‘I’m sorry’. Well, save that shit for a Hallmark card and send it to someone who has time to listen to that bullshit, ‘cause I think you’ve given me enough of your bullshit and lies already.”

Whether or not she knew it, Belinda was adding insult to injury, throwing salt into a wound that was my bruised ego. She wasn’t the first woman I’ve loved and hurt, but she was definitely the first woman I’ve loved and hurt who wasn’t going to let my pleas and promises draw her back to me. I tried my best not to become involved with Taylor. Nothing about being with her made sense. She was beautiful, but so was my wife. There was nothing she did in the bedroom that Belinda didn’t do and wasn’t willing to do. I got caught up in the excitement, and so I became one of those men who had the perfect wife but cheated because it was easy. It was right in front of me, and I didn’t have to work hard to get it. Just like them, what I had to lose was an afterthought, second to the feeling I had after Taylor had put it on me right. 

I hadn’t counted on it, but it seemed all the reasons she shouldn’t give me a chance were stacked high against me, and at the very top was Shedrick Wise. No one had ever walked away from me and not come back.

“For what it’s worth, I still love you, Belinda. I still feel connected to you.”

“For what it’s worth, you not loving me isn’t what keeps me up at night. Get unconnected.” She ordered. “I feel a connection, too, but it’s definitely not to you. Now, if you’re done, I do have to go.”

I hung up without saying goodbye. 

I’d lost Belinda, but I hadn’t done it on my own. Taylor made sure that happened, and now I was ready, one way or the other, to make her pay for going back on her word. She didn’t have her mother or her father in her life, and if everything works out, she wasn’t going to have her only sister, either. I went to sleep with my plans swirling around in my head. I was counting on Vanessa saying nothing to either Dillon or Taylor like I had asked. I needed her to be a part of this plan if it was going to work.

Chapter
22

Taylor…

Trust

I’m glad I wasn’t holding my breath waiting to
hear back from DaMarcus. Wednesday
came
and went and he still hadn’t called to tell me about taking Quinton while I sorted things out in my head about Vanessa and my almost bad deed with Dillon. Just this once, I expected him to keep his word. Luckily I wasn’t holding this expectation too close to my heart.

Since Tuesday, I had been walking around this house on eggshells. I avoided being in the same room with Vanessa and Dillon. Vanessa hadn’t been acting as if she knew what had transpired between Dillon and me, but she still hadn’t been acting her usual self.  She still insisted on making an appointment for me to see Dr. Reeves. In fact, that was mostly what we talked about during dinner, and DaMarcus, and Quinton. Nessa did most of the talking, and I spent most of the conversation dodging questions. I’d sat across from her at Le Castagne, an Italian restaurant on Chestnut. Sitting there, I was reminded how life used to be with Nessa, before I allowed one man to come between us. Before Dillon, I thought nothing could come between my sister and me. I wished I could undo everything that had damaged our relationship. My promise to never keep secrets from Nessa and never tell her lies ended with Dillon Aldridge. I had become a colossal fuckover, and the person I had fucked over was my own sister. Nessa wasn’t going to ease up on me going to see Dr. Reeves, and I figured if I didn’t acquiesce she would attempt to dig deeper into my dissent.

So, I sat in Dr. Isis Reeves’ office on Thursday morning. She waited for me to tell her about how my mother’s death made me feel. I was fifteen years old. I dealt with those feelings the best way I knew how. For the first fifteen minutes we sat in silence, avoiding eye contact at all cost. 

“You know you can start talking whenever you’re ready. We have,” she paused and looked at the silver watch that was slightly too big for her wrist, “exactly forty minutes. We can’t get through this unless you say something.”

Now she was giving me permission to open my damn mouth.

Dr. Reeves spoke in a diluted African accent. She stood with her hair swept low over her ears and vanishing behind her in a short ponytail that stopped in the middle of the broad of her back. She had a pronounced beauty mark on the left side of her face, closer to her chin. Her make-up was not overwhelming, but embellishing everything about her face that would’ve made her still beautiful without it: her high cheeks, her wide, dark eyes, and her straight nose that rose effortlessly from her face. She looked to be about 5’9” sans heels, with arms looking just as long as her legs. She wore a black sleeveless T-back dress that exposed slender, toned arms. Its V-neckline made it look as if her neck went on forever. I thought her attire was inappropriate for the office, but as attractive as she was, I guess she was able to get away with it  

Look, Doctor,
I thought, looking at her out the corners of my eyes.
I don’t want to tell you my business.

“There’s nothing to get through, Dr. Reeves. Coming here wasn’t exactly my idea.”

I spoke out loud, and with that we were both silent again. Movement from the espresso stain-finished wall clock dominated our existence. I paid more attention to the scent of amber and sandalwood and less to those dark eyes that pierced through me.

“What exactly do you want me to say?” I finally broke in.

“Nothing that makes you uncomfortable.” She gave an immediate response. “Why don’t you start with the day your mother died?”

I guess that was the reason my sister gave for me coming to see her; to deal with unresolved issues surrounding my mother’s death. 

I didn’t know this bitch from anywhere to trust her with my innermost feelings. I didn’t know the relationship this Dr. Reeves had with my sister so, in that moment, I’d decided to make it my business to find out just how close these two were.

“How do you know my sister?” I asked without hesitation.

I sa
t in a brown suede chair─the walls were painted just a shade lighter─with my legs folded beneath me. Dr. Reeves stood with her backside against her desk and her hands clasped in front of her. Her right foot swayed side-to-side on the heel of her burgundy p
eep-toe sling-back pumps. 

“Would you be more willing to talk if I didn’t know her?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” I hurriedly retorted.

“Fair enough.”

She unclasped her hands and rested her palms on her desk. She looked first towards the floor and then looked up at me as she responded.

“I counseled your sister Vanessa and Dillon.”

“Were they having problems?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“OK. Maybe you can tell me this. Did this counseling happen before or after they were married?”

“I can’t tell you that, either, Ms. Duncan. Listen, why don’t we…”

I interrupted, “I’m glad you said that.”

I got up from the chair and walked over to where Dr. Reeves stood. I folded my arms and stared directly into her eyes.

“How can I be certain our doctor-patient confidentiality isn’t trumped by your friendship with my sister?”

“Trust me.”

“That’s not an easy thing for me to do, Dr. Reeves.”

I walked back to the chair and sat.

“And please,” I added. “You can call me Taylor. I know you want to.”  

Dr. Reeves finally walked over and sat in the identical chair across from me. I was waiting for her to pull out her pen and notepad, but instead she removed a silver pocket mini-cassette recorder from a drawer under the coffee table.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said.

She pressed the record button and placed the recorder on the table before I gave my consent. I stared at the small silver devise that sat ready to capture my confession. I didn’t know where my story was going to start or where it would end.

“So, I guess you think I still cry for my mother.”

“What I think doesn’t matter, Taylor,” she corrected. “Do you?”

“My mother isn’t who I cry for. I cry for what she took from me.”

I could feel the tears making their way to the corners of my eyes.

Dr. Reeves sat back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. She lengthened her dress to cover her exposed knee.

“Continue,” she permitted.

“The only thing that saddened me about Lydia’s death was that she carried the whereabouts of my son with her. She was the only one w
ho knew where he was. She was wicked and selfish. Nothing she did for us─or at least for me─was done out of love. Everything she did to us and for us was only for her to look better in everyone’s eyes. Even now, I can’t forgive her for what she did,” I ran
ted as if I were reading a prepared speech.  

“What could your mother have done that was so unforgivable, even years after she’s gone?”

“She took my son away from me!” I screamed.  “He was mine, and she didn’t have that right. She was more concerned about what her pretentious elite friends would think about her daughter being knocked up at fifteen that she did everything she could to hide it. Little did she know those same women didn’t give two fucks about her or her children,” I paused to compose myself. “And you know what my mother did? Every morning she bandaged my stomach and my breasts to keep them from growing.”

I closed my eyes and attempted to squeeze away the memory. I tried to stifle the tears that eventually fought their way through tight lids.

“And when that no long worked―because I was unwrapping my belly every night before I went to sleep―she shipped me away to California that summer. I don’t know what her explanation to Vanessa about me leaving was, if she gave her any explanation at all.”

“
Have you told Vanessa?”

Through my tears, I managed to laugh.

“Are you kidding me? I didn’t tell her anything then, and I don’t plan on telling her.” I had to pick my poison, and so I decided dealing with my loss was best. “She already thinks she’s better than me. Both my mother and Vanessa took from me.”

“What exactly did Vanessa take from you?”

“Besides Dillon?”

I waited for her reaction, but she remained stoic. I stopped myself from explaining my query. I stood and walked a few steps from Dr. Reeves, but not before taking a few pieces of tissue from the silver flat container she had handed to me. The same perplexed look appeared on her face again.

“I saw him in my dreams this week.”

Dr. Reeves looked at me with a quizzical expression and then quickly fixed her face when she realized her reaction.

“He looked like I thought he would look now, everything for his father, with his wavy black hair dominating his small head. That was the only thing I saw as he was whisked him away from me. He looked healthy and happy. He always had his hands stretched towards me, waiting for me to pick him up. But just before my hands were secured under his arms, I would wake up.”

“What about the child’s father? Does he even know this child exists?”

“No. Patrick had his own issues he had to deal with, and as far as I know, he’s probably still dealing with them.” I smiled, thinking about my childhood friend. “Plus, I wasn’t going to tell him about something I couldn’t even prove. The scars were only memory deep.” 

I told Dr. Reeves that my mother forbade me to speak to Patrick. She succeeded, yet again, at taking another person from my life. This time she took my best friend from me.  I had seen Patrick McKay about three years ago just before I became mixed up with DaMarcus. I still couldn’t bring myself to tell him about our son. He’d entered into the pavilion on this cold winter evening. He was the last person I expected to see. I wasn’t looking at him in a sexual manner, but I was admiring him in every other sense of the word. We had a few minutes to catch up before he had to get back to his client. Patrick Duval was now Patrick McKay, a very successful sports agent. Patrick was still tall and dark, and handsome, just like he had been when I last saw him when he was sixteen.

“Well, Taylor,” Dr. Reeves said.

I turned my head for a quick glimpse in her direction.

“I take it my time is up?” I asked.

Dr. Reeves had just glanced at her watch on the underside of her left hand.

She walked closer to me, and though I had my back towards her, she talked as if she were talking to my face.