Sixty-Nine (24 page)

Rebe scooted back and massaged her shoulder, just at the point where her brother’s name, Maestro, was tattooed on her skin.

Dr. Love said, “My goodness. Are you going to be okay, Rebe?” She checked Rebe’s face, expecting an oncoming barrage of tears
to match her cracking voice, and offered a box of tissues.

“Yes. Thank you.” Rebe took one and balled it up in her hand. She went right back into speaking again. “I lived with my father
here in Florida while I healed the first year. I missed that year of school. I was recovering from a depressed skull fracture.
It was the blunt force trauma that dented my skull bone, causing a hemorrhage in my brain. The dent was one-half inch deep.
They operated to get rid of the bony pieces in my head, and when they inspected my brain for injury, they relieved the bleeding
that had begun between my brain and skull. It was from the rupture of a vessel. I had a brain injury caused by Violet, well,
caused by my own mother.

“My father couldn’t keep his fast self home often enough to raise me. He said he was depressed about losing his son. So he
kept chasing women like he’d been doing when he left us in the first place. I kind of raised myself. In high school I met
my friends Darla and Magnolia, two girls who were more like sisters than anything. The other kids in school who heard about
my mother and what happened said I was weird, some said fast, some said crazy. Oh well.

“So, that’s when I met my daughter’s dad, Trent. I got pregnant, didn’t even tell my dad, and moved in with Trent in his small
bachelor apartment while we were still in high school. Dad moved back to Maui. It was no big deal to me. I thought I’d be
better off under the same roof as Trent, but he had as many problems as I did. He was an addict, broken like me. I thought
we were the perfect pair. But like he said, I had a temper. And people didn’t believe it but, as fast as everyone thought
I was, I hated sex. He loved it. He left, and later died of an overdose.

“So anyway, I’ve been on these hormone pills all my life, and then on these new hormone therapy pills that I think finally
kicked my sex drive into fifth gear, and on Zoloft still, even now. But no matter how much I started craving sex, or how much
my depression lifted, I still haven’t felt lovable. Just unhappy.

“Doctor, I’m sure you know from reading my file, but the same thing that happened to me when I was twelve happened to me at
forty. To have my own daughter save me while being attacked is more than I can bear. It’s more than I want her to bear. Our
demons are not something I want my unborn child to have to inherit.

“As a mother, I now realize that she didn’t have babies so she could love them. She had babies so they could love her. She
was a narcissist. A sociopath who didn’t feel empathy. She was hard on us from day one. So hard that we couldn’t love her.
And now I know she couldn’t love us either. She couldn’t identify with another person’s feelings. It’s like we were a burden
to her.

“By the way, just like her, I got pregnant at seventeen. But now, the legacy of this anger gene can’t be mine. I don’t want
to screw up this chance at having another child. At times, I’m this doting mother, and then I flip into a distant mom, unavailable,
unable to empathize, like my mother. That’s not normal. And with all the money I have, it won’t buy my happiness. Please.
Help me.” She sniffled and tried to hold it. But this time a tear did flow, and then another, and Rebe sniffled and wiped
her eyes and nose. “I miss my brother.” Rebe’s slow tears turned into a full-out cry. She covered her face with her hands,
and just let it out.

Dr. Love’s face saddened, and she again offered more tissues, but Rebe didn’t look up. The counselor pulled out four tissues
and leaned forward, rubbing Rebe’s arm and putting the tissues on her lap. Rebe took them and wiped under her eyes with mascara
running, and fanned her face with her hand, blowing her exhale past her lips.

“I’m sorry,” Rebe told her, looking embarrassed.

“Oh, no. Please don’t apologize. You’ve been through a lot. Your brother tried to protect you. That was a tragic death. Surely
it’s hard to take still.”

“You know, my mother never cried. Ever.” Rebe sniffled more and fought to make herself calm down.

“It’s good that you can cry, Rebe. Very good. It kind of cleanses, like rain. This is major stuff that’s happened to you.
Would you like to take a break and get some water or coffee?”

Rebe looked down at her hands that maneuvered the tissues. Her nose was red, her eye makeup was smudged, her foundation was
all but wiped off. “No. No thanks. Really. I’m okay. It’s just that I really miss my brother. We were all each other had.
I’m surprised I haven’t had a total breakdown by now. There was so much evil back then. So much that went wrong. Even though
I was born on the day of love, Valentine’s Day, it still didn’t make a difference. ”

Dr. Love reached over and touched Rebe’s arm.

Rebe looked up.

The doctor sat back. “Rebe, yes, a lot of evil. Though one thing I can tell you is, I don’t believe you have some ‘evil gene.’
Psychopathy can be an inherited trait, but I know for a fact there’s nothing wrong with your moral compass. It works. If it
didn’t, you wouldn’t have raised Trinity the way you did, being there for her, making sure she made it through school, and
providing for her like you have. I think at some point in your life, there was enough nurturing, probably from your father,
as distant as he was, or from your older brother, to overcome the traits of your mom. From what you tell me about Trinity,
you broke the curse. Yes, Trinity and this new baby are your bloodlines, but they don’t have to suffer. Trinity needs to keep
coming in and she needs to continue her victim’s advocacy counseling. She nearly killed a man. That’s extremely traumatic.
She needs consistent psychotherapy. You’re smart, Rebe. You’re a college grad. You can even help other kids, just like you
can help your own children. Victims of heinous crimes are the best advocates for victims’ rights.”

Dr. Love picked up a clipboard and pen and started writing. “I want you to continue coming. I won’t prescribe meds for you.
Based on your history of brain injury, you need to consult with your neurologist, and also with your gynecologist if you still
need pituitary stimulants for your brain injury, like hormone therapy, but only after the birth. I think still being on Zoloft,
which is a category B drug, is fine, just don’t breastfeed while taking it. But in my opinion, taking it outweighs the risks
of not taking it.” She picked up a paperback book from her glass desktop. “But I will ask you to read this book called
Trauma and Recovery
by Dr. Judith Herman. I suggest Trinity reads it, too. It covers the aftermath of violence for those who might experience
posttraumatic stress disorders. It’s a good source of finding a way to feel good based on our thoughts, and not buying into
our negative thinking.”

Rebe’s face was still flushed. Her eyes glassy. She took the book and looked over the cover. “Thanks.”

“But most important, enjoy the rest of your pregnancy. Live in the present. And I’ll see you next week. Okay?” Dr. Love’s
voice sounded as though she was prompting Rebe’s agreement.

“Okay.” Rebe reached for her suede purse that was on the coffee table in front of her.

“And Rebe.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Rebe said while placing the book inside the middle compartment of her bag.

“First of all, no need to call me Ma’am.”

“I’m sorry. I know better. I hate that, too.”

Dr. Love caught Rebe’s eyes and they both smiled. “What I want to tell you is, you need to forgive your mother, forgive yourself,
and heal by bringing closure to the past. Enjoy the rest of your life. Your brother lost his life so you could live. So live.”

Rebe blinked on hearing the doctor’s last word, and another tear fell. “Thank you, Dr. Love. I will. In his honor, I absolutely
will.”

Her hand on her belly as she stood, she felt the life in her kick.

And Rebe’s lips spread into an enormous smile.

T
hat day, the birds sang even in the afternoon.

The sky above was the color of love.

Paisley.

And though they’d lost their child due to the miscarriage, on the day the baby was due, December 19, the vows had been exchanged
and the
I Dos
had been sealed with a forever kiss. Sealed to cement the union between two people who’d met, of all places, at a swinger’s
club.

The long walk down the aisle by a brand-new husband and wife had been taken, and all the family members and guests had caravanned
behind the couple’s black stretch limousine, the short distance from the church, across the causeway from Miami to the private
tropical island oasis of the Mandarin Oriental Miami hotel for the elegant reception. The Asian serenity was the perfect paradise
of private beaches and prestigious bay views. Eighteen-foot ceilings, silk and velvet wall coverings, crystal chandeliers,
and glistening skylines framed the spectacular room that was totally decorated in only black and white.

Guests finished up their meals, laughing, joking, smiling, and enjoying the celebration of true love found. The happy couple
sat at the wedding party table for two, ready for their reception, him in his black tux and tails with a cream tie, her in
her cream satin strapless gown with a black sash and jeweled bridal shoes. Her hair was swept away from her face, curled loosely
down her back. Diamond and pearl drop earrings accented her classic beauty. Her wedding bouquet was made of exotic white magnolias
and White Naomi roses. They’d spend their wedding night in the Asian serenity of the five-star hotel’s Dynasty Suite on the
ninth floor, and head off on an eight-day South Caribbean cruise to Aruba the next morning.

Miller’s son and his wife and child, and Miller’s daughter and her child, were all seated at a table with Magnolia’s grandmother,
Gigi, who sat next to Miller’s ex-wife, Beth.

Rebe and Darla, the maids of honor in all black, sat with two of Miller’s friends who were the best men, named Rich and Juan.
While Rich was extra friendly with new mother Rebe, Darla was busy enjoying talking to her lover, Grainger. And on the other
side of Darla was her father, who for the life of him, couldn’t take his eyes off of Gigi at the other table. And Gigi noticed
him notice her. It looked to be her pleasure.

Darla had a look of amazement on her face while taking a moment to nudge her father. She asked, speaking only loud enough
for the two of them, “Daddy. Are you staring at Magnolia’s grandmother?”

He didn’t lick his lips but he looked like that was the next step. “Darlin’, it’s been years since I’ve seen her. She’s sure
held up nicely,” he said, giving a “Mac Daddy” grin, peeking at her beyond the lavender chrysanthemum centerpieces.

Darla seemed as though her ears had deceived her. She’d never seen her father like that about anyone but her mom. She looked
away, trying not to make too big a deal, but made a point to honestly tell herself it really was long overdue. She distracted
herself from her father’s visual-admiration party, and turned toward Rebe, asking, “Are you enjoying living in the new house?”

“I am.” Rebe told the others, “I bought a new place in West Lake Village. Just really getting settled in.”

“Nice. In Hollywood?” Rich asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“Cool area,” he said. “I work in that county. As a sheriff.”

“Really?” Rebe watched his full, brown lips as he spoke. “Small world.”

“Indeed.” He looked at her lips, chest, and all that he could get his eyes on from where she sat.

And sitting to the left of Rebe was Trinity, holding her three-month-old, off-the-charts long, baby brother. She handed the
baby boy, who had a cleft chin, over to his mother.

“Cute baby,” Rich said to Rebe, admiring her big brown boy with the full head of hair.

Rebe said, “Thanks. Actually, these are my two children. My baby son, Tristan, and this is my daughter, Trinity.” She put
her hand on Trinity’s back.

“Oh. Wow. Nice-looking family,” Rich said. He turned toward his friend Juan and they began talking.

Rebe moved her focus from him to Darla. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Darla came to a stance.

Trinity took back her baby brother. Rebe planted a kiss on Tristan’s lips, and then as Rebe stood, she kissed Trinity’s forehead.
Trinity, dressed in ivory chiffon with teal and lime gemstone dangle earrings, wore the angel charm Magnolia had given her.
Trinity closed her eyes briefly and smiled.

Darla joked in Rebe’s ear as they walked, “Surprised you didn’t have twins like you joked, considering the way you described
the night you got pregnant. Tristan is a doll, sis.”

“Thanks,” Rebe said, with a chuckle. She held Darla’s hand, still very aware after all the years that had gone by since she
had betrayed her friend. But she just couldn’t bring herself to come clean.

Rebe and Darla approached Magnolia and her new husband, standing right in front of them at the bride and groom table, and
raised their glasses high, as did Magnolia, Miller, and everyone else.

Rebe said, “Today is your wedding day. When 2009 started out, we had no idea a wedding would even be happening for you, Magnolia.
Miller, yes, she was the one out of the three of us who always joked about being the bridesmaid, never the bride. Well, today,
Magnolia, you are the bride.”

“Yes she is,” Miller said, platinum band on his finger, holding his new bride close.

“When we started out the year, we had no idea that some of the things that happened so far would’ve happened at all. But God
had other plans than ours. If it wasn’t for our New Year’s promises, Darla probably wouldn’t have her new store, I wouldn’t
have my new child, and Magnolia, you wouldn’t have a new husband. Miller, thank you for coming into Magnolia’s life and loving
her the way she needed to be loved. For cherishing her and making her laugh. She’s changed in a way I can’t explain, but it’s
a beautiful thing to see. I guess that’s what real happiness will do for you.”

Darla took over, raising her glass even higher. “May you both enjoy the sanctity of marriage in a way that is the ultimate
love for the world to see. What God has put together, let no man put asunder. Here’s to you, Mr. and Mrs. Miller Lockhart.
We wish you all the happiness in the world and pray that the love of your hearts reaches beyond your God-given years, into
eternity. May you never be farther than the arms of your hearts can reach. Magnolia, you found your soul mate. Cheers.”

The bride and groom and everyone else said, “Cheers,” and took sips to seal Rebe and Darla’s words. Magnolia had a tear rolling
down her cheek, and Miller kissed her right where it flowed.

The song “Spend My Life with You” by Eric Benet began, and Miller removed his tux jacket, took his bride by the hand, and
led her to the dance floor. When Magnolia heard the words,
“Never knew such a day could come,”
she fanned her flushed face with her hand. She faced her new husband in her vintage dress as their family and friends watched,
and placed her head on his chest, left ear to his heart, and the words continued,
“I was incomplete till the day you walked into my life.”
And then, the record scratched, and Magnolia and Miller looked at each other with a question mark, looking over toward the
DJ, who began to play Heavy D & the Boyz, “We’ve Got Our Own Thang.”

Miller suddenly sang along like he was okay with it, getting the feeling,
“Everybody shake your body, we don’t ill we chill at a party,”
and he broke out into his own corny version of poplocking, attempting to moon-walk to the beat, encircling Magnolia as she
watched him like she was shocked, but by the next chorus, Magnolia raised the fabric of her petticoat, exposing the baby blue
garter Darla had given her, and turned around to him, backing it up and working her hips. He put his hands up in the air,
waving them around like he just didn’t care.
“Started with a pow and I’m going to end it with a bang, we’ve got our own thang.”

Everyone started clapping, and singing along, while Magnolia and Miller did their prerehearsed routine, skipping and jumping,
doing some youngster moves, and then heading over to those standing around to bring them into the mix, even Trinity who had
stood up with the baby, and Magnolia’s Grandma Grace took Darla’s father by the hand, bringing him onto the floor, hugging
him while they did a funky slow dance version.

Miller’s son and daughter and their families jammed too, even his ex-wife, and Darla and Rebe danced together, with Rebe making
a point to head right on over to Miller, bringing her backside around to his front side, and she shook her moneymaker around
in a circle, while he first looked at Magnolia for approval, but before he got it, he focused down at what Rebe was working
with, pretending he was rummaging through his pockets to look for dollar bills, throwing fake bills up into the air to make
it rain. Rebe pretended to catch each one and stepped back to Darla after passing by Magnolia who gave her a look of warning
and pointed her finger. “Okay now. Don’t let me tell Darla on you,” Magnolia whispered. She then held her hand up. The silver
heart friendship bracelet from Rebe dangled. She gave Rebe a high five, and said, “Our sixty-nine days are over, girl.”

“Agreed,” said Rebe, without a word of disagreement.

Rich, Miller’s best friend, took Rebe by the hand and they danced, doing what Rebe loved to do most. They did a version of
the whop, holding hands the entire time. She smiled continually, finally a real true wide, continuous grin. Like maybe if
she kept dancing, the curse would be broken.

Darla danced back over to Grainger and sat down, staying close while he whispered what he was going to do to her when they
got back to his place. Darla swatted his arm and then hugged him closer, whispering back to him to bring it on.

And Magnolia looked in the eyes of her new husband, her arms draped around his neck, feeling as though she could really truly
exhale, her large rock and his diamond band on their ring fingers shining bright as symbols of their life together.

The next song was theirs alone.

The floor cleared and Etta James resounded from the speakers. “At Last.”

Magnolia’s gaze was triumphant. Her life was like a song. Her love had come along just when he was supposed to. They moved in slow dance, swaying to the tune, Magnolia humming the song to him, Miller humming the song to her. The
song later wound down with all eyes still on them.

As the song “Perfect Combination” by Stacy Lattisaw began, another selection of Magnolia’s, Gigi appeared behind Magnolia,
though shorter than her, on her tiptoes, touching her on her back and making an effort to whisper in her ear as Magnolia leaned
back to get closer.

Magnolia could smell her peppermint breath as she spoke in a low tone. “Excuse me, baby girl, this is your new husband’s ex-wife.
Her name is Beth. And she is the most beautiful spirit. She asked me to introduce you.” Gigi looked at Beth. “Beth, this is
my granddaughter, Magnolia.”

Magnolia ceased her dance and turned toward them, keeping one hand clasped in Miller’s.

Gigi stepped away, headed back toward Darla’s grandfather, whose eyes expected her return.

Beth stepped forward, giving a quick smile and head nod to Miller, who looked frozen, and then she took Magnolia’s other hand
into both of her hands. “You are a beautiful bride.” She smelled like roses.

“Thank you, Beth. It’s nice to meet you.”

Beth was short and slightly plump, in her sixties, but looked hip in black caged Louboutins, in a black tulle dress with pearls,
and auburn hair cut into a classic bob. She wore three-inch red nails and bright red lips. “And I want you to know, you are
my children’s stepmother. We welcome you. I honor you for allowing me to come today and see my children’s father get married.
A lot of women wouldn’t have been able to do that, but you did. I got your invitation and was thrilled. That’s all I wanted
to say. Thank you.”

They gave cheek-to-cheek kisses.

Magnolia told her, “Thank you for coming. That’s so nice of you to take the time to be here, and to introduce yourself. Believe
me, if my mom says you’re okay, you’re okay.”

Beth patted Magnolia’s hand and then let go. “I’ll let you two finish your dance.

Magnolia took Beth’s hand into hers. “No. Here. You dance with Miller.” She placed Beth’s hand in Miller’s hand.

Beth looked surprised. “Are you sure?”

Magnolia looked certain. “I am.”

“Miller?” Beth asked, seeming cautious.

Miller gave a bow, as in,
May I have this dance
. “My wife knows me, Beth. It’s my pleasure.” He pulled Beth close, and they danced together, chatting while he led the way.

And Magnolia walked away in her designer wedding dress, feeling nothing but happy. Nothing but secure. Nothing but free. Free,
now knowing what the feeling of being cherished can do.