Brothers and Wives Page 21

  “This plan better work,” LaNecia says to herself. “I spent all my extra salary trying to pull this off.”

  Dani accepts the package from the reservationist, moves away from the front desk, and rips open the box right in the lobby. She holds the garment in her hand. Then Neil walks up to her. LaNecia’s glad they’re so occupied with each other that they don’t notice her listening in while she tries to stay undetected.

  “I’m not sure I’m feeling this at all, Neil. What do you think you’re doing?”

  “What are you talking about? I’m here because you wanted me to meet you!”

  Dani gives Neil a perplexed look.

  “I told you, if you ever have second thoughts to let me know. I thought this was your way of asking me to rescue you, before you make a mistake.”

  “Neil, don’t lie to me. Did you set this up to confuse me? You just can’t stand to see me happy, can you?”

  “I could ask you the same thing. Why’d you tell LaNecia all this garbage about how you still loved me? …”

  “LaNecia. Oh, okay. Fuck! I know the girl isn’t wrapped too tight, but … hold on a sec.” Dani retrieves her cell phone and shows Neil all the texts.

  The color drains from his face. “No,” he says somberly. “I didn’t send those. I don’t even know where my cell phone is. I’m sorry, Dani. I feel like such a fool.”

  “Don’t feel that way. It’s not that I don’t care. But I am about to marry another man.”

  “Yet you showed up here, Dani. That says something. What, I don’t know. But right now, I gotta find my phone. And LaNecia. ’Bye, Dani,” he croaks and he leaves the Marriott appearing more distressed than when he first arrived.

  — 19 —

  DANI

  The Pain of Marrying Scottie

  It’s a few days after LaNecia attempted to destroy the future I’m trying to build with Scottie. One of his projects is behind schedule, and he’s put in a lot of extra hours today at the construction site trying to finish the building. Earlier he said he couldn’t wait to get off so he can swing by and spend time with me. I prepare a quick meal for him so that we can have a bite to eat before we play with Brax and get him situated for the night.

  Once my family digs into a nice helping of baked salmon fillet, rice, and broccoli, I feel so pleased about how everything tastes that I am eager to settle into Scottie’s arms.

  We’re all hanging out in the main bathroom. Scottie is pushing a button that squirts out hundreds of bath bubbles into the tub. Brax keeps screaming and making loud noises as he splashes water and tries to pop the bubbles.

  “He’s having a ball, isn’t he?”

  “This boy is gonna pass out tonight, Mariah.”

  “I’ll bet. The more he screams, the more knocked out he’ll be.” I turn around and open the door to the towel cabinet and locate a sky blue body towel monogrammed with the initials BF.

  “Scottie, I hope the baby doesn’t get confused by all this.”

  “I think he’s too young to even notice,” Scottie says.

  “No way. Kids pick up on things.” I pause and peer at my son. White bubbles cover his entire head. Scottie shapes them so that he looks like Batman.

  “Ohhh, that’s so wrong.”

  “Hurry up and get a camera. Go on. You gotta capture moments like this,” Scottie says.

  “You go get it. I want to stay right here and watch my son have a ball.”

  “Our son.”

  “Scottie. Please. We can’t do this to him.”

  “Since you said he’s so intelligent, he’ll be able to understand that he has two fathers.”

  “But that’s not what I want him to know. Not right now. Maybe not ever.”

  “I want him to know about me.”

  “This isn’t about your ego, Scottie. It’s about the innocence of my precious child. You can play that important role. But he has a father.”

  “I don’t wanna hear that.”

  “It’s the truth.” I ignore Scottie’s funky mood and try to tickle Brax under the arms. He looks up at me with his mouth wide open, grinning like he’s having the time of his life.

  “That’s how I always want him to look. Sweetly happy like he oughta be, Scottie.”

  “Sco-tee, Sco-tee.”

  “Who told him to call you that?”

  “I didn’t.”

  I sigh heavily and wonder if I can endure some of the pain that marrying Scottie may bring. Some of life’s issues are so complicated, confusingly twisted. Every day I hear of some tragic story involving family issues. Forced marriages. Spousal rapes. Inexplicable physical abuse from a tormented stepparent. Who’s to say that, as much as I care about Scottie, one day he won’t turn into some sicko who thinks it’s okay to harm my child? I don’t think it’ll happen, but you never know. How can I stop potential harm from taking place if I’m too blind with love to see it coming?

  And I can’t shake the uneasiness I felt when I got engaged and first heard from my mama once she got back to Long Beach. She told me she was happy for me, but I need to “be careful.” Of course, I couldn’t sleep well all that night. I called her the next day and said, “If you can’t offer me your sincere support, then don’t play or pretend. Be honest.”

  “You be honest.”

  That’s all mama said, and now we’re here.

  “Whatever you want him to call me,” Scottie advises, “you better decide soon. Get it in his head while he’s young and doesn’t know how to question.”

  “Jeez, I dunno,” I mumble. “This is difficult for me. I need your help with these kinds of things.”

  “Why? You having doubts?”

  “I do want to be with you. It’s just that I get scared. Are the things I’m gaining worth everything I could lose?”

  “Oh, I see,” he remarks in a clipped tone.

  Scottie stands up and heads toward the door.

  “Scottie, please don’t ever walk away from me. I don’t even want to get that kind of thing started. In this relationship, we’ve gotta be honest. We don’t have to yell, curse, threaten, or get physical, but let’s have space enough to say how we feel, even if it hurts.”

  Scottie pauses, then slowly turns around to face me. His eyes are filled with wounded tenderness. I hear his soul crying. The hands of his soul are beating against his chest. I can relate. This life-changing decision isn’t like going to the drive-through window of Jack in the Box, where you gotta make a quick choice out of dozens of menu items. The kinds of decisions I’m making these days are unlike anything I’ve faced before.

  “I guess I can’t argue with honesty. I don’t like how it sounds when you tell me stuff like that. But if you thinking about changing your mind about being my wife, you better be truthful enough to tell me before one o’clock on February fourteenth.”

  “That’s fair,” I tell him. He lowers himself to his knees and splashes water against Brax’s little bird chest. Brax screeches and throws back his head, erupting in laughter.

  “Aw, man,” I say, “don’t let him get you like that, Brax. Splash him back.”

  Scottie covers his eyes, looking like an oversize punk.

  “Hey, Brax, man, who am I?”

  “You my uncle Daddy.”

  Scottie and I sit on both sides of Brax in his bed and take turns reading a few poems that celebrate African American fathers from the book In Daddy’s Arms I Am Tall. The vivid illustrations portray positive interactions between a father and child. Brax needs this. He’s gonna get double the love, and I want him to see and understand that’s it’s a good thing.

  “Love you,” he says to me and kisses me on the mouth. “Love youuu more,” he screams at Scottie and hugs him tight about his neck.

  I dab at the corner of my eye and sniff. It’s gonna be okay. We’ll feed him what he needs to know one day at a time.

  It amazes me how it feels when I stare deeply into the eyes of a man who’s making love to me. It’s like we’ve become one, soul connected to s
oul, intricately woven together. When Scottie places the full weight of his body on top of mine, it feels like we’re human puzzles that naturally connect. My fingers hold tight to the hardness of Scottie’s thick neck; he rises and falls above me, stroking inside and stabbing me fiercely as if he needs to touch the deepest part of my soul. I know he’s putting his stamp on me, a sexual engraving that marks me as his. Forever. For some reason, these are the thoughts that permeate my mind as we’re having sex.

  It’s mostly dark, but my night-light, which is plugged into the wall next to the bed, causes me to see shadows.

  Scottie thrusts his hips, putting all his strength into his stroke. I gasp. Whimper. Then I close my eyes.

  Neil is on top of me. As I grip his shoulders, his curvy muscles fill my entire hands. I stroke his smooth arms with the tips of my fingers. I like this. I miss this. He grunts and plunges deeper into me.

  Stop. It hurts.

  It’s not hurt. It’s love. And you’re mine. Don’t you ever forget it.

  I quickly open my eyes. Scottie is stroking me. He moves his sweaty face next to mine. My cheeks get wet and moist, and I feel like pushing him off me. But I lie in bed, waiting for Scottie to finish up, my eyes aimed at the ceiling, my mind crammed with odd thoughts.

  * * *

  Summer comes and picks me up the next weekend.

  “Four weeks, baby. Are you ready?”

  “Getting there. Hard sometimes. Tons of fun other times.”

  We’re traveling to the River Oaks area of town so I can check on the wedding gown and bridesmaids’ dresses.

  “Like today, for instance, getting to put on that stunning dress and making sure that the other attire is set, all of that makes me feel happy.”

  “You oughta be. Not that you’ll feel elation every second until the wedding actually happens, but it’s damn sure expected that you’ll feel some joy during some parts of this entire experience.”

  “That’s what I try to think about. If I concentrate on the parts that worry me, I’d probably end up running away from home.”

  “Girl, it’s just like when I had to move from one place to another. Packing was a bitch, but once I hired someone to assist me and knew that Andre was helping me with the moving expenses, I felt relaxed. A good man will do that for you.”

  I nod in agreement. “I actually cannot complain. Scottie has come through for me in so many ways. I mean, gosh, the fact that his uncle James is paying for half the costs plus flying my family here a week in advance is amazing. I can’t ask for anything more.”

  “You’re lucky, girlfriend. Enjoy all this good stuff because I can count on both hands the number of females who want to be in your shoes.”

  “Well, that’s the problem, Summer. I still feel guilty about what happened with, um, you know.”

  “Ha! That. Well, don’t totally blame yourself. That crazy LaNecia didn’t help matters. It’s not like the idea to meet Neil came solely from you.”

  “Right, and you better not ever mention this, you promise?”

  “Okay, okay. Who am I going to tell?”

  “It could slip out. Things happen.”

  “I doubt I’ll ever mention it again. That’s your personal business. And I know you just needed to vent. Try not to feel guilty.”

  “It makes me wonder, though. What would have happened if we hadn’t picked up on the fact that LaNecia was involved?”

  “Girl, please don’t tell me you’ll throw all this away over some age-old fling.”

  “I didn’t, which is great, but I’ll admit I thought about it. Does that make me a bad person?”

  “It makes you a normal person. You thought about doing some bad, but you didn’t go through with it. If everyone who ever thought about killing someone went to jail, there’d be nobody on the streets.”

  The rest of January is filled with a rush of things to do. Scottie and I pick up the matching ring set from I W Marks.

  Sola helps me review final details for the food and beverages. We went with Jimmy Dillard’s Famous Fifth Quarter Seafood & Catering and voted to place fried turkey at the top of the menu. For people with dietary restrictions, we added grilled chicken breast as an entrée alternative.

  Summer agrees to oversee details regarding my floral arrangements; she also volunteers to check the guest list and note those who haven’t responded to the invitation.

  “Who is Shay Fleming?” she asks me one day while sitting with me at my dining room table.

  “Hell if I know.”

  “Maybe one of Scottie’s family members?”

  “I dunno. I think I’ve met just about everyone in his family unless she’s someone coming from out of town. Maybe I’ll give him a buzz and ask.”

  “Hold up before you make that call. How do you like that necklace?”

  This afternoon I’ve been collecting my something old, new, borrowed, and blue that I plan to wear during the wedding. Summer lent me a dazzling string crystal and pearl necklace that her mother gave to her before she passed away.

  “Summer, I’m honored you’re even letting the jewelry out of your sight. It’s beautiful, beautiful. Makes me feel like a woman posing on the red carpet.”

  “That’s a good thing, sweetie. Now go ahead and call your fiancé.”

  I laugh and dial Scottie’s cell. He answers with a hearty, “How’s my favorite girl in the world?”

  “Assuming you’re talking about me, I’m good.”

  “Funny. What other woman would I be talking about?”

  “You never know these days, babe. Anyway, I’m calling about the guest list. One person in particular hasn’t responded at all.”

  “Like who?”

  “Like Shay. Shay Fleming.”

  He pauses. “Oh, all right. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’m not worried. One less mouth to feed. But before I scratch her off the list, who is she?”

  “Nobody.”

  “Nobody somebody, or nobody nobody?”

  “I–um.”

  “Scottie, I don’t like how you won’t just answer the question. Remember our talk a while ago?”

  “How can I forget?”

  “You must’ve forgotten because you’re choosing not to answer me. That’s not honest.”

  “I feel if the person didn’t respond to the invite, then they must not care. If they not respectful enough to let us know they wanna come, then fuck ’em.”

  “Oh, I get it. Must be one of your exes.”

  He doesn’t say a word. And his silence says more than what his words would have revealed.

  “No problem. ’Bye, Scottie.” I slam down the phone and instantly regret it. I wait a few seconds and redial his number. The call quickly goes to voice mail.

  “Dammit. Now he’s pissed at me. This isn’t even right. I don’t believe him.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  I explain Scottie’s odd reaction when I mention Shay Fleming and how he refuses to tell me who she is.

  “That’s easy. Google her and see if there’re any photos on MySpace or Facebook. We already know her home address and telephone number. One quick phone call should resolve this mystery.”

  “But I don’t like acting insecure, calling up strange women. I’ve always wanted to pretend like I don’t care and like I trust him.”

  “But you don’t.”

  “It’s important for me to know the basics about what’s going on. The rest I can deal with later.”

  “Well, you know me. I’m game. Hand me your house phone. I’ll call. Or log me on to your Internet, and I’ll let my fingers do the checking.”

  “It’s not your job, Summer. If my man can’t tell me the truth, what am I doing with him? That’s why I don’t want to google anybody. I’m waiting for him to come to me. That’s the last little test he needs to pass.”

  Later that evening, Scottie shows up at my place. I stand outside my front door with my arms folded.

  “You gotta know and believe that you’re th
e woman I’m marrying. Shay Fleming is someone who I used to know a few years ago. I guess it was stupid to invite her. She was the one woman who was gifted at making me feel like an ass. And now that I’ve lucked out …”

  “You want to show out? Show me off? Make her regret treating you bad?”

  “But I don’t have to do that, do I?”

  I insert my key in the front door to let him in. “All you have to do is be honest with me even if you think your feelings will harm mine. Thanks for telling me who she is. If you see her at the wedding, will you point her out to me?”

  “That’s not happening. I decided to call and uninvite her. She cursed me out and hung up on me.”

  “Good for you. I’m glad she’s not coming. Two cars just can’t drive in the same lane, I don’t care how ‘hot’ they are,” I tell him and silently thank God that Neil and I had enough sense not to go into that hotel room.

  — 20 —

  LANECIA

  Wedding Day Blues

  Saturday, February fourteenth. The wedding ceremony begins twenty minutes late. But when the doors of the tiny rented chapel squeak open, the sounds of sighs and complaining skid to a gentle stop as all the guests crane their necks.

  Dani steps into the sanctuary wearing a white beaded floor-length dress with a strapless bodice embellished with rhinestone crystals. Her taffeta skirt is bunched in at her waist. The front of her hair is pushed back from her face; and the back of her hair is curled in long, flowing ringlets that bounce with every step. She slowly walks down the wide aisle clutching the arm of Albert Frazier, her thirty-five-year-old brother, who’s prepared to give her away.

  All the ushers were warned, “If you see another woman walk through the front doors of the church wearing a wedding gown, first call security, then 911, just in case.”