Page 24

Chapter Twenty-One

Dereck

F orgiveness. The nerve of her asking for forgiveness. Every time I think about what Ilyana did, even after all these years it still feels like a fresh wound.

Shame is blazing in my body, it’s a charred reminder of a night I’ll never escape.

I could never tell Miranda. How could I? How do you tell the woman you love that your best friend- the person you both trusted- slipped a date-rape drug into your drink. How do I admit that in my drugged haze, I thought she was Miranda?

Just the thought of what happened that night. She took away everything from me with one vile action. She took my son; she took the only woman I ever loved. My happiness was swiped away from me. What did I have but to adapt? I made limoncello out of the bitterest lemon life could offer me. I took the money, power and the status- all of it. If I couldn’t have peace or love. I could have control.

My shame is my constant companion. I trusted Ilyana. We trusted her. Miranda, Ilyana and I, we were best friends. I never thought she would do that to me. It wasn’t jealousy or hate. No Ilyana’s soul was trapped in limbo unable to move forward. I never asked who put that idea in her head. She didn’t come up with this on her own.

Either way the damage was done. I was violated. A violated man- a shame no one talks about, one I carry alone. My memory is hazy and fragmented. The slurred shushing sound someone made. The feeling of my voice sounding so weak and fumbling, calling Miranda’s name telling her I love her. That I needed her. The next morning, I woke up and my world was split in two. I woke to bright yellow blood-stained sheets. Ilyana sleeping beside me, with blood on her thighs. She lay there naked and vulnerable like she was the victim. My stomach churned. I ran to the bathroom and vomited until my stomach was empty. She followed, wrapping herself in fake concern and compassion. Her light touch on my shoulder felt cold against my skin. She whispered in my ear what she wanted. What she demanded, and it was me. Or else.

Or Else. Those words would haunt me for the rest of my life. Or else she would destroy my life. Not just me, but my family, my legacy, everything I had left. She had me trapped. I should have told Miranda. Maybe she would have understood? Maybe she could have forgiven me and helped me out of this situation.

But I didn’t. I let shame and fear win. And so I made a vow. After I got married, I swore that I would never let myself be powerless again. Never again would anyone take my choices away. Never again would I be helpless. And yet that night still fucking owns me.

* * *

PENNY - 5 MONTHS

I have never had a problem with my body, but I’m looking down at my stomach, my lips tremble and I burst into tears.

My breath hitched and now I’m bawling looking at myself in the huge mirror in front of Tarek’s bed.

Tarek rushes into the bedroom. “What’s the problem?” He comes to me with outstretched hands.

I wipe my eyes and shake my head. “Nothing.”

Tarek scans my naked body looking for a cut or a bruise.

“Come on Treasure, I can’t help if you don’t tell me what hurts.”

I breathe in and bow my head. “I can’t see…”

Tarek lifts my head. “Tell me what’s the problem.”

“I can’t see my pussy,” I whisper.

“Excuse me?” Tarek laughs a little.

I hit his chest. “Don’t laugh. I had a mini fupa, now I have a belly, and I can’t see my pussy.”

Tarek cradles me to his chest and rocks me. “It’s okay, I can still see your pussy. That’s what matters.”

“Tarek, this is not funny. I look like a fucking water buffalo,” I cried into his chest.

“No, you don’t, Treasure.” He kisses the top of my head. Why is he being so sweet? I don’t like him right now. I want to cry.

“It’s your fault. You’re making all these great foods. What pregnant lady has a chef making her organic donuts?”

Tarek rocks me. “I have a pregnant girl. If she asks for donuts, I am making that bitch.”

“You are acting like I would kill you if you don’t,” I stomp.

“Again, my girl is pregnant. Of course, I fear for my life.” Tarek pulls back as I slap his chest.

“My back hurts, my feet hurts. I feel like a freaking blue whale about to pop.” I cry

My lip trembles. “I’m, I’m fat.”

“Gordon Ramsey famously said, ‘Where there is fat, there is flavor,” Tarek tries to hold back a smile.

I want to smack him so hard. “I just wanted a donut.”

“But the question is…were they good and did it make you happy?”

I wipe my eyes and nod. “They were so good. I was happy.”

Tarek shrugs. “That’s all that matters to me.”

“No, Tarek because now I can’t see my pussy.” I lean forward and cry.

Tarek laughs out loud.

“No, this is not funny Tarek. I have to wax this week.”

He chuckles, his eyes crinkle with mischief. “Oh, the memories of me waxing you. Look how far we have come.”

“Yeah. I think I fell for you that night.”

Tarek pulls me closer, his hand resting on the side of my stomach as he rocks me gently. “I fell for you the moment you said, “I came for the food, not him.”

“When did I say that?” It feels like a lifetime ago, me and Tarek, all the moments that led us here.

“The first time you came to the restaurant, and the girl was waiting for me.”

I chuckle. “Did you ...you know, leave with her after I left.”

“Nope, I sent her home.”

For some reason that made me happy.

“Tarek, is it possible you can look at my pussy, and tell me if it’s okay?”

Tarek laughs as he kneels. “I will do one better, I will tell you if it tastes the same.”

I chuckle because I knew I was in for a memorable ride.

* * *

TAREK

Having a pregnant woman in my house is an interesting venture. It’s 2:00 a.m., and I am just driving back home. At 11:30 pm. my girl had a craving for a food she loved from Trinidad called ‘doubles’. There was only one Caribbean restaurant in Lakeshore and of course it’s closed. I had to get their number from a colleague and beg them to make three doubles for my girl. I volunteered to make the doubles, but apparently me, a Michelin chef wouldn’t be able to replicate this Caribbean dish. Those three doubles cost me $1000.00 each. Why? Because they had to get up out of their beds to make said doubles. Ever since we hit the 20 weeks, I haven’t had a complete night’s rest. My girl has a particular taste. Last night, I was about to sleep, and she wanted a smash burger from a food-truck in Charleswood. Did I drive over four hours for a double smash burger loaded with extra pickles and onions, plus a side of onions rings? Why, yes. Yes, I did. My wife…I mean my girl. I really want to make Penny my wife. After consulting with Zeeta I got the ring of Penny’s dreams, an Art déco emerald-cut, flawless diamond ring is sitting in the box.

I am thinking about all the ways I can propose, but thanks to Zeeta I understand that an over the top proposal will freak her out. Zeeta’s words were, “Keep it simple, stupid.”

So, I will keep it simple. All I want is for my girl and my babies to be healthy and happy. Part of that happiness comes with Archer’s help. It’s finding her mom’s ex-boyfriend aka the man who tried to touch her. In the coming months he and the pastor will not be able to touch anything again.

My phone rings loud and hard. Who the hell is calling me at 2:00am?

“Hello?”

“Hi Tarek? It’s Melody.” Her voice is breathy, like she was trying to sound seductive. “Melanie? Damn. I thought roaches only come out when the lights are off. Wait its nighttime. I guess that tracks.” My fingers tap with impatience against my steering wheel.

“I just wanted to ask you if you’d reconsider sending me a necklace. Since you know, everybody has one.”

I laugh “Your pussy didn’t qualify you for that.” Honestly, I should’ve ended this call already.

“You are acting like I meant nothing,” she cries, her voice trembling.

I scoff “This is not an act. You didn’t mean shit to me.”

“Tarek you don’t mean that,”

“Melalone,”

“Melody! You think you are some prize huh?” she snaps.

“No, but my pregnant fiancé does. And apparently so do you since you are calling me at 2am over a fucking necklace.”

“There is no need to be this way,” she pleads.

I sigh, I was done with this conversation “Just because your parents are cousins doesn’t mean you get a pass on having zero critical thinking skills.”

I hear a sniffle “You think you are so untouchable. Like karma won’t catch up with you.”

“I don’t give a fuck about Karma or you.”

“You don’t deserve happiness,” she shouts, “I swear to God, I will ruin it. You hear me. I will destroy it.”

I pause my voice drops “Melatonin look.”

“It’s Melody and–.”

A beep cuts her off. It’s Penny. Without hesitation I switch lines.

“Treasure?”

“Hey, did you get the goods?” She sounded like a smuggler over the phone. I tap the steering wheel, grunting low.

“Yeah, I got it.” Looking at the greasy brown bag on the passenger seat.

“Yes, okay drive home safely,” she says.

“Is that for me or the food?” I ask.

“Both.” Then she hung up.

* * *

PENNY

My bones feel like liquid; after devouring those delicious doubles and sipping on homemade mango juice. Carrying twins is uncomfortable but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I shift to the side and ease myself off the bed. Tarek’s already up; he is probably downstairs in the gym, like he always is at this hour. I look at the clock 4:00 a.m. God, I need to pee. I stand and the bedside light flicks on automatically. Then I feel it, a faint flutter low in my belly. My hands fly to my stomach, and I close my eyes waiting for the feeling again. There it is again my babies are moving. I sit down on the edge of my bed, and I begin to cry.

“Thank you, lord,” I mutter. I scrape my face as I wipe my tears away.

“What the hell?” A ring is on my finger. A ring that I didn’t put there. There is a fucking ring on my marriage finger. I look around the room trying to gather my mind. It’s not Christmas or Easter. My birthday is in May; we are far from May.

My hand trembles as I look at the ring, it’s beautiful. It’s a vintage art déco style emerald-cut diamond ring. It’s striking and luxurious in appearance. It was exactly what I wanted.

I slip my bedroom slippers on, and I walk down to Tareks in-house gym. I can’t help but admire the old stone castle we call home. It’s his father’s ancestral estate. The walls are lined with oil paintings of long- gone relatives, their eyes seeming to follow me as I pass. I imagine them wondering, What the hell is a black woman doing in our house? Well I am living here. And apparently, its about to be for life.

I make quick work passing through the Game room, then the outdoor patio and enter Tarek’s gym.

Stepping in the gym makes me feel out of place in my pj’s. This wasn’t just a gym, it’s a space that echoed opulence. Crystal chandeliers glitter from above, casting light over the sleek marble walls and polished floor. Mirrors cover the wall, making the room feel large and spacious. There is a faint scent of eucalyptus from the potted plants in the corner.

A deep grunt catches my attention as I watch Tarek on the bench, lifting weights that look impossibly heavy. He doesn’t hear me approaching since his ears are blocked by his earphones.

I walk around the back of the bench and look down at him as he finishes his rep, pushing the bar up in place with a controlled breath. He sits up and pulls the earphone out of his ears.

“Hey,” he says, grabbing towel and wipes his face.

My jaw drops. “Hey? Is that all you have to say to me?”

* * *