Forgive Me (14 page)

“I get your point, Jamilah. I never said I was perfect or hadn't made any mistakes. I can't see her yet.”

“I'm headed to see her right now. Do you want to send her a message?”

“Not now.”

“Please consider what I said. She doesn't have to move in with you and Lake, but at least consider having a conversation with her.”

Jamilah ended their call and pulled around to the back of Royce's house. She'd called Tawatha for most of the day after the meeting; she never answered.
I bet Tawatha's asleep or watching television,
Jamilah thought as she parked in an empty space near the carriage house. She walked the beautiful path of burgundy mums and rang the doorbell. After the fourth ring, she headed toward the main house. Jamilah figured Tawatha had joined Mr. Hinton for dinner. The carriage house was nice, but it paled in comparison to his stately home. She rang the bell, surprised he opened the door on the first ring.

“Jamilah,” his booming voice sang. He gave her a fatherly hug and invited her inside. “Was Tawatha expecting you? She's been gone a few hours now.”

“Yes, we were actually supposed to talk. I've been calling her for hours and she won't answer.”

“She rarely uses her phone. I think I need to give her another tutorial. Won't you come in and have a seat?”

“Thank you, sir, but I need to get going. I'll try her another time. Please tell her I stopped by,” Jamilah said.

“I'm sure she'll be back soon. I will tell her you stopped by.”

Jamilah walked away as Mr. Hinton called to her. “Thank you for giving her the job-hunting leads. If she doesn't find something soon, I assured her she could do some administrative work with me.”

Jamilah stammered, “You're welcome.” She closed the door behind her and walked down the steps.

Disquieted by his words, she turned around on step four, climbed Royce's steps again, and rang the doorbell. He answered immediately.

“Mr. Hinton, may I come in a minute?”

“Yes. Is something wrong?”

“I need your help figuring that out. May I chat with you?”

Royce led Jamilah to the living room. Jamilah looked around and felt uncomfortable. She hated museum homes, houses with décor so immaculate she didn't want to sit.

“Does anyone ever come in here?” she asked.

“This is a livable home. Millie made this her showplace, the home of her dreams, before we broke up. I'm not materialistic at all, so if you spill, drop, or break anything, I won't be bothered.”

Now that she could relax, she and Royce sat together on an elegant sofa. She dropped her attorney interrogation tone, fearing he might shut down. She needed to pick his brain in order to help Tawatha.

“I met with her mother, and Ms. Roberta said that Tawatha's been stalking her and Lasheera. She doesn't approach their homes, but she sits in the neighborhood watching them. Were you aware of her actions?”

“She told me she's been job hunting, and I believed her.”

“Mr. Hinton, I don't need to tell you how hard it is for a felon
to find gainful employment. Couple that fact with the nature of her crime, and let's say Tawatha won't be saying, ‘Welcome to Walmart,' anytime soon.”

“Every day, she shows me application confirmations from different companies. She dresses up, leaves here, and says that she's going for interviews.”

“Mr. Hinton, would you mind opening up the carriage house for me? I have a feeling she is applying for jobs, but she's also using technology to stalk her relatives and friends.”

Royce beckoned Jamilah to follow him through the kitchen and the patio. He walked down the back stairs past the pool to get to the carriage house. He opened the door to the carriage house as he and Jamilah scanned the room. Tawatha had reverted to her old ways, though not as severe. A few shirts, pants, and dresses hung over the backs of chairs and on the sofa. Her trash cans were full, not overflowing. She'd left her laptop open, and Royce typed in the username and password, surprised she hadn't changed it.

Jamilah sat at the desk and scrolled Tawatha's browsing history. Among hits on CVS pharmacy, Eli Lilly and Company, and UPS, several identity sites were saved. Jamilah clicked on Switchboard.com and scanned the names of the people Tawatha searched. Royce and Jamilah read the names in unison: Roberta Boston, Lasheera Carvin, and James Dixon.

I
f the universe had thumbs, they'd both be up in the air right now!
Tawatha found a parking space in front of James's house, excited to see the “for rent” sign in the front yard. Since Belinda Rosewood threw a wrench in her look-see game, she stepped up her appearance. She eyed her new, shoulder-length layered wig in the side mirror. Her new Juicy Couture glasses gave her a studious look. Tawatha inspected both sides of the street. Every neighborhood had a Belinda Rosewood, and today, she refused to run scared. She pulled alongside the real estate brochure box, got out of the car, and grabbed a description of the house. She smoothed out the tweed pantsuit she'd found among Millicent's pre-Weight Watchers clothing in the carriage house. Scanned photos on the brochure showed someone altered the house since the last time she visited. The tan, chocolate, and cream décor had been replaced by soft-blue and green shades.
James probably doesn't live here anymore.

The steep, fifteen-hundred-dollar rent was well worth the price for the neighborhood. James's immaculate house made her want to have a house of her own. Mr. J.B. fulfilled her dream, if only momentarily, when he allowed her to rent one of his properties.
Why do I always ruin everything?

“Excuse me, ma'am, are you interested in renting the house?” A voice called from the front door.

Tawatha saw no car in the driveway, so she presumed the house was empty. She squinted to see whose voice it was. Shocked, she watched as the thin woman next to James on the newscast came toward her. She wore a winter-white swing coat, black boots, and ran her fingers through a head full of bouncing curls. She extended her hand to Tawatha.

“Hi, my name is Shandy Fulton. And you are?”

“Dana Marin.”
No more names close to my own.

“I'm the owner of this house, and I'm renting it out. Would you like to come inside to take a look?”

“I didn't think anyone was home. I don't want to disturb you.”

“No trouble at all. I'm trying to get this place off my hands ASAP. You happened to catch me while I stopped in for a few things. Come inside.”

Tawatha followed Shandy inside, amazed at the easy access. If James spotted her, she would rush into his arms, ask his forgiveness, and they could finally have the life they deserved. Barren, the home didn't look as it had on listing service. Furniture had been removed from most of the rooms, as had the accent pieces and paintings she remembered. The home smelled of apples and cinnamon. The floors, which were hardwood and vinyl, gleamed.

Shandy toured the home with Tawatha like a realtor.

“Dana, this is a four-bedroom, two-and-a-half bath home. The master is on the main, and there are three bedrooms upstairs. Do you have children?”

“I'd be living with my boyfriend. We don't have kids, but I like hosting parties.”

“Well, you'll love the basement. James and I had it redone two years ago.”

“I thought you lived by yourself. Is James your husband?”

Shandy shook her head. “He's my business partner. We've branched out into different areas, and it's best to rent the house at this time.”

“So he's not here?” Tawatha asked, desperation filling her voice.

Shandy found the statement odd, but didn't press the matter.

Tawatha backpedaled. “No, I asked the question because my boyfriend, Travis, goes on and on about having a man cave, and I wanted to get a male perspective on the house.”

“Oh, I see. James is traveling for business right now, so I'm sorry he can't give you the lowdown. Trust me, he would give you an earful about being in the man cave.”

Shandy looked at her again. She thought Tawatha had a familiar look, as if she'd seen her either in passing or a familiar setting. Then again, she remembered that she ran into so many women at their salons that everyone melded together after a while. Beauty shops were filled to capacity with women in the get-sexy-or-die-trying mode. “Let's go downstairs.”

Tawatha followed Shandy down to the basement. Everything inside of her wanted to push her down the stairs, but neighbors saw her go inside; she couldn't explain a mysterious accident. Tawatha noted this room contained furniture.

Reading her mind, Shandy said, “This is the last room that needs to be packed. Everything else is in storage until…” Shandy stopped herself.
You're entertaining a stranger. Be quiet.

“Until what?”

“Until I find a less expensive unit. I'm about to switch from the beauty business to storage if this keeps up.”

Tawatha walked in the open door Shandy provided. “Wait a minute. Didn't I see you on TV recently? You were at Easley Winery with this tall guy. He looked like a model.”

“You saw us! Yes, that's my business partner, James.”

“Hold up! The kiss he planted on your cheek did not say business partner. The two of you looked like college sweethearts!”

Shandy's face reddened. Maybe this wasn't a good idea after all.

“We're just business partners. Our romance ended some time ago.”

Tawatha turned her lips down in mock sadness. “That's too bad. I know what it's like to lose the one you love.” She leaned closer to Shandy. “I don't know about you, but the love of my life loved another woman. No matter what I tried to do, she was our silent partner. He couldn't get her off his mind.”

“How did you handle it?”

“I let it go. I figured if we were really meant to be, we'd be together when the time was right.” Tawatha remembered her previous lie. “I also found that when I let the old love go, the universe opened up things for me and Travis. You're gorgeous, Shandy. I'm sure the universe has a new man waiting just for you.”

“Everyone says that to me. He's special, but I'm not one of these ghetto women willing to fight over a man. If someone doesn't want to be with me, I don't push it.”

Skinny heffa.
“You shouldn't push it. You are too delicate and dainty to fight over a man.”

“Thank you, Dana. Let's go upstairs to the bedrooms. I'll show you around the rest of the place; we can exchange information when we're done.”

Shandy continued the tour. She pointed out the bedrooms, laundry area, and bathrooms to Tawatha. Their conversation flowed easily; she didn't want to be too personal, but needed to assess if the rooms were sufficient enough for her and Travis.

“If you don't mind my asking, Dana, do you have children that will be visiting you? I mean, nieces and nephews? We have a nice
play area out back equipped with a tree house, swing, and a bouncy house. James provided these items for his son, and if you have small kids you entertain, I'm sure they'll enjoy playing.”

“How is Lil Man?”

“Excuse me?”

Tawatha bit her lower lip. “The little man. How is he?”

Shandy released the nervousness the statement generated, breathed easily, and grasped the staircase. “I thought you said Lil Man. That's James's nickname for his son.”

“Oh. I call little boys
Lil Man
all the time,” said Tawatha. She moved closer to Shandy. “Are you okay? You are ghost pale.”

The stoic front Shandy had maintained since James left came undone, and she placed her head on Tawatha's shoulder. “Dana, I'm in a mess right now.” She released light sobs, astounded she felt comfortable confiding in a stranger. “It's…we dated for years, and one night, he left. I knew we weren't on the best terms, but I wanted things to work out for us.”

“Let me get you some tissue from the bathroom.”

Tawatha darted in the closest bathroom and checked the cabinets for Kleenex, pleased a stash remained. She removed the box, rejoined Shandy, and motioned for her to sit on the floor.

“Oh my God. This is so embarrassing.” Shandy shook her head and wiped away her tears.

“Go on and get it out. A good cry is what we women need sometimes,” said Tawatha. With her attention on Shandy, she passed more Kleenex and rubbed her back. “I'm listening with nonjudgmental ears.”

Shandy didn't know where to begin. She'd pretended she was fine, spitting out Zen sayings and laughing her days and nights away as she conducted business. She couldn't deny the truth: She
missed James Dixon. She missed the way he commanded a room with his sexy swagger and easygoing ways. She missed his six-foot- five stature. She met him post-dreadlocks, but she even loved the photos of the pre-James, with oiled locks flowing past his strong shoulders. She missed seeing him every day and discussing business. They spoke daily about the businesses, and she asked about Aruba's condition. Somehow, it was a poor substitute for the man she'd grown to love over the last four years.