Heaven Right Here (17 page)
Authors: Lutishia Lovely
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Literary, #United States, #African American, #Christian, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Fiction, #Literary Fiction
Cy looked at his watch. He had an appointment after this one, and it could not be postponed. “We’ll talk when I get home. Are you okay to drive?”
Hope started to cop an attitude and then changed her mind. When you acted like you were insane, this was how you were treated.
“I’m fine, Cy,” she said softly. “When do you think you’ll be home?”
“I don’t know.”
With that, Cy turned and walked toward the suite of the new infamous LaJolla “tea party.” He did not look back.
37
Life and Death
“I think I just ruined my marriage.” Stacy had finally answered when Hope called.
“Girl, now you’re sounding as dramatic as Frieda,” Stacy said dryly.
“No, Stacy, I’m serious.” Hope relayed the day’s events in minute detail, so someone would have to pay Stacy not to understand how serious this was.
“Things could be worse,” Stacy said after Hope’s long diatribe.
That’s when Hope knew something was not right. The woman she was talking to didn’t have Hope’s toe, knee, or pinkie finger, much less her back. “Did you not hear what I just said? I poured a pitcher of tea over Millicent Sims’s head!”
“Payback is a mutha—” Stacy mumbled.
“It wasn’t payback, Stacy. I thought that she—wait a minute. Something’s wrong. What is it?”
“Nothing. Not yet anyway.”
“What am I supposed to make of that cryptic answer? Is this about Darius?” Hope asked that question to be polite; with Stacy it was hardly ever about anything else.
“I found a lump in my breast.”
It was the first time Stacy had said the words aloud, and it stopped conversation on both ends for several seconds.
When conversation restarted, it was Stacy who spoke. “Two nights ago, after the prayer service with Rev Thicke, I went home, took a bath and, while sponging myself, felt this lump, about the size of a quarter, under my left breast.”
“Oh, my gosh, Stacy!” Hope was quiet a moment. She didn’t know what to say. “Did you go to the doctor?”
“That’s where I was when you were blowing up my phone. They did a biopsy on me and sent the tissue to a lab. I’m supposed to know in three to five days whether it’s benign.”
Hope was quiet. There was life and death in the sense that she didn’t think she could live without Cy. And then there was
life and death
, as in cancer, the word both women had thought but neither had yet said.
life and death
, as in cancer, the word both women had thought but neither had yet said.
“Look, Stacy. I’m almost back in LA. Why don’t you come over?”
“Naw, girl. It looks like you’ve got your own set of ugly going on. Plus, I stopped by my mother’s house when I left the hospital, and nothing can make you feel better than a mama. She helped me put this whole thing in perspective and told me not to focus on something that isn’t even fact yet. The nurse said most tests come back benign and that probably mine will too. I tell you what, Hope. It just makes me more thankful of everything, you know? Here I’ve been fighting with Darius over whether he should see his own son, and with Bo, who has legal claim to somebody who doesn’t even want to be with me. What have I been thinking the past two-plus years? I haven’t been thinking—that’s the problem. I think this little scare is simply God’s way of getting my attention. And I’m listening. It started the night Rev Thicke spoke, and it was just reemphasized today. From now on, there’s no more half stepping when it comes to my faith. From now on, with my whole heart, I’m living for God.”
It was after nine
PM
when Hope, waiting in the sitting area of their master suite, heard the elevator doors open to the penthouse. It was a moment she’d both been anticipating and dreading with equal measure. She already knew there was no excuseshe could offer, no argument she could make, that would defend the day’s actions. So she was willing to offer her sincere apologies and ask for forgiveness, and then it would be up to Cy from there.
PM
when Hope, waiting in the sitting area of their master suite, heard the elevator doors open to the penthouse. It was a moment she’d both been anticipating and dreading with equal measure. She already knew there was no excuseshe could offer, no argument she could make, that would defend the day’s actions. So she was willing to offer her sincere apologies and ask for forgiveness, and then it would be up to Cy from there.
She waited, hearing Cy move around in the living room and then in the kitchen. She heard the television turn on and then off. She thought she heard him in the office. He was in no more of a hurry to face the inevitable conversation than she was. So, taking the lead, she got up from the sitting area and walked toward the door. Cy was coming in at the same time.
“Oh, excuse me. I, uh, thought I heard you come in,” she said.
“Yeah. Honestly I was avoiding this moment. And then I realized how silly and immature that was. I love you, Hope. You’re what I have most wanted in this world. That’s when I knew I had to stop dodging you and come in here to have a straight-out conversation. I need to know what is going on and how I can help you.”
They walked back into the bedroom together. Cy took off his suit jacket and lay it across the bed. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the first few buttons. Hope watched his actions while clasping and unclasping her hands. Finally she walked over to the suite’s sitting area, where he joined her.
“Would you like some—” She almost choked on the word
tea
and changed the question. “Something to drink?”
tea
and changed the question. “Something to drink?”
Cy almost smiled. Sharing a cup of chamomile or passionfruit or one of their other favorite flavors was almost a nightly ritual. Now it would forever be linked to an ice-cold pitcher tossed in a hotel suite.
“No, I’m fine.”
Hope began. “I talked to Vivian on the way home and made an appointment to see a therapist she recommended.”
Cy eyed her critically. “That’s good.”
“And I talked with my mom. I thought it might be good to get away for a few days, but we’ve got rehearsals for the dance troupe.”
“Nothing is more important than you being okay, Hope. I couldn’t care less whether you finish the dance for Darius. In fact, maybe that responsibility is too much right now. Maybe it’s too soon.”
Hope nodded. “Maybe. I’m having lunch with Vivian next week after I see the therapist.”
Cy steepled his fingers under his chin and looked at Hope for another long moment. “You and I need to talk about all this right now.”
“Cy, I don’t have anything for you other than ‘I’m sorry.’ This was without a doubt the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I didn’t listen to rhyme or reason, just went off half cocked the way I’ve seen other women do. The way Millicent did at Kingdom. I’ve always said I could never understand what would drive a woman to do such crazy things. Well, now I know.
“And even more than throwing that tea on Millicent—and I truly hope she forgives me for that—I’m sorry that I ruined your surprise to me. You’ve been working so hard, all these meetings and long hours, to give me exactly what I wanted. And here I go and ruin everything with my jealousies and insecurities, emotions I keep saying are under control . . . but they’re not.
“Cy . . . can you forgive me?”
At any other time, this would have been the moment in which Cy walked over, scooped Hope up in his arms, looked into her eyes, and melted her soul with an “Of course, baby.” Now, however, was not one of those times.
Instead he got up and began taking off his shirt. “I forgive you, Hope. But this can’t be forgotten; it has to be dealt with. Let’s see how things look after you’ve met with the therapist. Now, it’s been a very long and trying day for the both of us. I’m going to take a shower, and if you don’t mind, I think I’ll sleep in the guest room.”
Hope’s look was crestfallen. She and Cy had never been under the same roof and in separate beds.
“I’m sorry, but it’s just the way I feel right now. I love you, Hope, but I need space.”
38
Tempt a Godly Man
The
clickity-clack
of Vivian’s heels on the church parking lot pavement was in stark contrast to the unusual quiet of this sunny and warm southern winter Saturday, Cali style. It was as if the entire neighborhood had embraced the first lady’s somber mood, reflective and introspective, balancing a myriad of challenges on the shoulders of her St. John suit.
clickity-clack
of Vivian’s heels on the church parking lot pavement was in stark contrast to the unusual quiet of this sunny and warm southern winter Saturday, Cali style. It was as if the entire neighborhood had embraced the first lady’s somber mood, reflective and introspective, balancing a myriad of challenges on the shoulders of her St. John suit.
The quiet was almost thankfully broken up as she entered the youth center, where the sound of Darius’s “Looks Like Reign” bounced off the rafters. Melody, the obvious troupe leader in Hope’s absence, was front and center, executing an intricate step-and-turn movement for the other dancers to follow. They all stopped as they saw their first lady approach.
“Hello, ladies,” Vivian said.
A variety of responses followed. “Hello, Sister Vivian.”
“Hi, Mrs. Montgomery.”
Finally, a shout-out from the ringmaster. “Hello, Lady V. Where’s Ms. T?” Melody said, referencing the nickname they’d given their unasked-for chaperone.
“That’s why I’m here. She had an emergency and won’t be here today. She asked me to send her love and to tell you she has full confidence that we can carry on in her absence. I’m hoping her faith in you was not misplaced.”
Again, a variety of responses ensued, the totality of which amounted to “We got this.”
“Is Hope—I mean, Mrs. Taylor—I mean, Ms. T—going to be okay?” one girl asked.
“Just a little family business,” Vivian said. “So here’s what I need you to do. I need you ladies to start from the top and show me what you’ve got. If things look as though they’ve progressed sufficiently, I’ll leave you to rehearse on your own.”
The girls lined up quickly. They couldn’t wait to show their first lady how tight their routine was. Melody stood in the center and counted off. Vivian pushed the PLAY button, and “Looks Like Reign” once again filled the room.
The first verse of the song accompanied Melody’s solo dance. It was a combination of passion and raw talent, and Vivian could see where some of Hope’s signature moves were being incorporated into the group. Halfway through the verse, Natasha joined Melody. The six remaining young women moved in sync during the chorus, and this sequence continued through the second verse. During the song’s bridge, Melody was once again featured.
“Reign: realizing everything’s in God alignment . . . reign
I’m in Him, and He’s in me, and there is no denying
I have the victory as long as I believe, come what may,
That when the morning comes my life will look like reign. . . .
Reign over trouble, over doubts over fears . . . reign, reign . . .”
When the ladies finished their routine, Vivian clapped politely. She could see from the expressions on their faces that they were quite pleased with what they’d created. Vivian was too, for the most part.
“Great job, ladies,” she said sincerely. “I especially like the sign language that’s been incorporated. Very nice.” Vivian knew that this too was Hope’s signature. But she wisely kept the praise generic.
“Melody, may I speak to you for a moment?”
Melody followed Vivian to a corner of the center.
“You really liked it, huh?”
“I loved it. You ladies will soon exemplify the godly woman God exalts. But there’s something, Melody, that I want you to be acutely aware of.”
The slightest frown scampered across Melody’s youthful complexion. “What’s that?”
Vivian decided on a direct approach. “You are a very attractive young lady, rapidly becoming a woman of God. Your body is reflecting these changes, so it is imperative that you are conscious of the signals you are sending with your movements.”
“What’s that mean?” Melody asked in a sulking tone.
Oh. She wants to play boo-boo the foo-foo. Well, here we go.
“It means that when you stick your breasts out like this,” Vivian demonstrated, “or your butt out like this,” she mimicked Melody perfectly, “that movement may tempt a godly man in a way he doesn’t want or need to be tempted.”
“It means that when you stick your breasts out like this,” Vivian demonstrated, “or your butt out like this,” she mimicked Melody perfectly, “that movement may tempt a godly man in a way he doesn’t want or need to be tempted.”
“Was I doing that?” Melody asked the question, knowing the answer as it escaped her lips.
Vivian let her know she knew it too. “Look, girl. I know you find it hard to believe, but I was once your age. And I wanted to make sure the boys noticed me. Now I’m not saying this is your MO, but because you are such a beautiful girl, you may get a type of attention you don’t want. There is a difference between performing and praise dancing,” Vivian continued. “You are dancing for God, and your body is His temple. So make sure the moves you make are ones for which He gets glory. Understand?”
Melody nodded, her eyes downcast.
Forget you, witch. I’m not dancing for you or God. I’m dancing for Darius.
Forget you, witch. I’m not dancing for you or God. I’m dancing for Darius.
“Okay, good. Now go work on your steps. You’re an obvious leader and doing a good job. I’m proud of you.”
Yeah, whatever.
Vivian realized how important it was to instill self-esteem in these ladies and to offer praise so they didn’t go looking for validation in all the wrong places. Still, she made a mental note to talk to Hope about implementing the praise-dance training courses that had preceded the Angels of Hope praise troupe’s debut at Mount Zion Progressive, the church run by Vivian and Derrick’s best friends, the Brooks.
“What did she say?” Natasha asked as Melody joined the girls in the circle.
“She just told me how good we were,” Melody responded. “C’mon, y’all, let’s hurry up and finish this so we can go over to Darius’s house.”
Thirty minutes later, that’s where they were. True to his word, Darius had finally made good on his promise to have the girls over. It was almost unheard of for Bo not to cook, but he didn’t agree with Darius’s befriending of Melody. A dozen boxes from Pizza Hut was the silent protest Bo had had delivered before retiring to the bedroom.
Melody was in seventh heaven as she soaked in her surroundings—the landscaped backyard, complete with pool and Jacuzzi. If she played her cards right, all this could be hers. And she intended to play the bump out of her deck of cards. She waited until the other girls were deep in discussion about who said what about whomever, and then she sidled up to Darius, who was checking his e-mails.
“I did something for you,” she whispered. “Can I show you?”
“What is it?”
“Our latest dance video. I hope that if you like it I can maybe be in the next one you make. But can we go to another room? It’s kinda bright out here.”
Darius eyed Melody before replying, “Come on in, ladies, I’m getting ready to watch your routine.”
How am I going to seduce him if I never get him to myself?
Still, she pasted a smile on top of her carefully cultivated carefree attitude and followed Darius into the house. They walked through the sunroom and down the hall to the combined library and theater. Melody felt as if she had died and gone to heaven as she watched the man of her dreams in his low-riding shorts and black tank top. He looked the part of who he was—a superstar.
Still, she pasted a smile on top of her carefully cultivated carefree attitude and followed Darius into the house. They walked through the sunroom and down the hall to the combined library and theater. Melody felt as if she had died and gone to heaven as she watched the man of her dreams in his low-riding shorts and black tank top. He looked the part of who he was—a superstar.
They entered the room, and Darius asked for the DVD. He pushed a button, and the watercolor painting lifted to reveal a large flat-screen. He went into a small room just off the main area to insert the DVD, and soon the rough sounds of girls talking filled the room. Darius adjusted the volume as he joined Melody on the couch. She was thrilled he’d chosen to sit next to her!
Melody squelched the urge to watch Darius instead of the video. She wanted to know if he was focused on her. She didn’t have to wait long to find out.
“That was good, y’all,” he said once the song had ended.
“You really think so?” Natasha asked.
“Yes, I do. In fact, if y’all keep behaving yourselves, I just might put you in a video.”
“All of us?” one of the girls shouted.
“We’ll see,” Darius responded. He pushed a button on the remote to stop the DVD and another to shut off the television. The watercolor picture slid back in place, and Darius stood. “Okay, ladies, I’ve got work to do. Hope you enjoyed yourselves.”
Various answers rang out as the girls thanked their host. Melody hung back as they walked toward the door. She didn’t want to leave.
“Can I stay a little longer, by myself?” she asked boldly. “I want to talk to you about the fan club and about becoming a part of your business. The other girls are just doing this because I asked them. But I seriously want to help you.”
Darius looked at the sincerity on Melody’s face and almost felt sorry for her because, one, she actually thought he needed her help and, two, she thought there might be more than one way she could help him. Didn’t she know he was gay? And what was it about straight women who felt they could make a gay man straight? At the end of the day it didn’t matter. Even if she wasn’t too young, which she was, Darius wasn’t interested.
“Thank you,” he answered as he gently led her around him and out the door where the others stood waiting. “But Bo is all the help I need.”
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