Jaded (The Butterfly Memoirs) (8 page)

The sound of Zack and Yasmine talking outside woke me. How long did I sleep on the couch? I cut off the television and peeked out the window. Zachariah walked Yasmine to her car, opened the door, and closed it after she got in. He watched her back out of the driveway, and waved in response when she honked the horn. After a moment, he took his cell phone from his pocket. Seconds later, my house phone rang.

“Did you have a good time?”

Zachariah’s chuckle sounded like his father’s. “Were you spying on me?”

“No, I heard voices and glanced out the window.”

“Uh huh, I bet you stayed up to see what time we got back.”

I checked the locks on the front door while watching my son get into his car. When he backed out of the driveway, I shut off all the lights and made my way along the hallway towards my bedroom.

“No, I fell asleep on the sofa while watching T.V.” I paused at the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water before heading to the bathroom.

“Did you eat?” he asked.

“No. It’s a good thing you went out.” I ignored his sigh. “So, what did you think?”

“About what?” Exasperation was in his voice.

I could tell he wanted to question my diet, but I refused to have that conversation. After all, I was the parent.

“About her.” I reached the bathroom and grabbed the medication on the counter.

“She’s a different kind of woman, Mom.”

I could hear the interest in his voice. “Different is what you need.” I swallowed the required allotment of pills and followed it with water. Unable to avoid the metallic taste in my mouth, I spread toothpaste on my toothbrush.

“Why do you keep trying to set me up? It’s not going to work. Neither of us are looking for a relationship.”

I shook my head. Young people. “So you say. I’m getting ready for bed. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Zachariah.”

“Okay, get some rest. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too.” I hung up the phone, brushed my teeth, swishing and scrubbing my way to a metallic free mouth. It didn’t helped much, but it was better than not brushing at all.

After rinsing, I leaned on the counter and waited for the wave of nausea to pass. I hated this feeling. When the world stopped spinning, I went to my room, slipped into my pajamas, climbed into bed, and shut off the light.

Yasmine and Zachariah.

They didn’t know it, but the two of them needed each other. After spending three weeks with Yasmine, it was obvious she had a good heart. After all, what type of woman would take the time to check on me? Spend time with me? See me as a mentor? She didn’t know either one of us. Yet, she continued visiting several times a week.

It amazed me how much we had in common. Her drive and determination reminded me of what it was like to be her age. She had a strong head on her shoulders and didn’t take crap from anyone, a quality I admired.

Qualities like those were exactly what my son needed in his life. Melissa was a good person, despite the fact she turned tail and ran away at the first sign of a problem. I’m glad it happened before vows were exchanged. Zachariah was loyal to a fault. Even if their marriage made him unhappy, he’d never walk away. The last thing my son needed was to be stuck with a woman who took him for everything and left him when he needed her most.

Marriage was a support system. My husband, Charles, and I taught Zachariah how to treat a woman. Always be a gentleman, put your wife’s needs before your own, and she would take care of you. When Charles was alive, we were proof of how to make a marriage work. Was it perfect? Of course not. No relationship, no matter how strong, was perfect.

I ran my finger over the diamond studded gold band my husband gave me the day we were married. Even after his death, twenty-two years ago, I’d never taken it off. My goal before leaving this earth would be giving our rings to my son and the woman he loved.

Our love ended in tragedy, but it was strong and true. I wanted the blessings we experienced to pass on to Zachariah and his bride. Knowing they wore our rings long after our deaths would be like an invisible blanket protecting and blessing their marriage.

That would never have happened if he’d married Melissa.

Yasmine on the other hand…

During our time together, I ascertained there was a history of bad experiences in her life, and all of them dealt with men. Just as Zachariah needed a strong woman in his life, Yasmine needed a good listener, provider, lover, and a man who could show her the support and respect she deserved.

They needed to stop ignoring the obvious attraction between them and accept the fact they needed each other. For richer or poorer, through sickness and health. Until death did they part.

That would be my prayer tonight.

Chapter 10

I adjusted my necktie, yet again. Tuxedos were not my regular style. I preferred slacks and button up shirts. But for Yasmine, I’d do anything.

I joined the line of people walking up the front steps of the hotel. The place had taken on a completely different life.

Love and romance smacked me in the face the moment I entered the front doors. Smiling couples, happy faces, and fathers bouncing babies on their knees were everywhere.

Happiness and family, things I should have in my thirties, but were sorely lacking.

An usher directed me to the room serving as a chapel. Unsure of what side to sit on, I grabbed the first available chair near the back, an aisle seat where she would see me.

The last time we spoke, the bridal party was decorating what I assumed to be this room before attending the infamous bachelorette party. They’d done a great job; Yasmine had a talent for pulling things together. The amount of work put into making this day memorable for her friends would pay off.

‘It’s my gift to make up for all the pain they’ve gone through,’ she’d said.

I studied my surroundings. Tiny lights trailed the length of the room. Chairs, decorated with white cloth, boasted bunches of flowers tied to the sides and were placed along walls.

 There was plenty of white fluffy stuff…tulle. How did I know that? Oh, yeah…Melissa. She kept me in the loop about the amount of money spent on our special day.

Money that was wasted. After spending weeks watching my mother vomit and suffer, I arrived home to find her carrying a box out the front door with her girlfriends in tow. Why didn’t she inform me of her decision to call off the wedding before moving?

I inhaled the smell of freshly cut flowers, and forced the memory away.

My attention went to the candelabras serving as centerpieces of the room; the place where the couple would exchange their vows.

More useless knowledge.

I spoke cordially to people who nodded their heads in my direction. The attendees were a mix of all races, making it impossible to tell who supported the bride or groom.

“Excuse me, sir, are those seats taken?” one of the ushers asked.

I glanced at the empty chairs next to me. “They’re available.”

He smiled his thanks before waving over an elderly couple. I stood, giving up my aisle seat, and settled in the next seat available. They nodded in appreciation.

The room grew silent when music played. Everyone turned to observe the parade of parents and grandparents escorted to their seats. Next came two men walking side by side; the groom and his best man. The blond haired man must be the groom. He appeared on edge. I laughed silently. If I ever got married, jittery was not how I would feel.

A man should hold his own on his wedding day. After all, wasn’t he the one who brought up the idea of marriage? He provided the ring, made plans for the household. He should stand before his family, friends, and God without shaking like a leaf in a breeze.

The bridesmaids were next. First up was a Caucasian. The flower girl and ring bearer, also Caucasian, followed. Yasmine’s best friend must be white. After all, she was bi-racial.

The next woman who entered the room left me speechless. Yasmine was beyond beautiful.

Striking. Lovely. Elegant.

Exquisite.

None of these words adequately described the woman I beheld. I cursed myself for giving up the aisle seat.

The milk chocolate fabric of her dress displayed every seductive curve. Since meeting her, Yasmine’s body had become the subject of midnight fantasies and erotic daydreams. The blue stone necklace, lying flush against her slender throat, brought out the grey color of her eyes.

She glided gracefully in time to the music, her head held high and shoulders arched. Beauty adorned the surface, but it wasn’t how she felt. She’d confided that planning this wedding ate her up inside.

Yasmine focused on her destination and didn’t see me when she passed.

Another bridesmaid entered, this one was black. Her dress appeared different from the others. The maid of honor? Wasn’t that in the wedding handbook? As soon as she found her place at the altar, the music changed. The wedding march played while everyone stood for the bride’s entrance. My eyebrows shot up; she was black. I glanced at the groom, the nerves he’d wore on his sleeve stilled the moment he focused on his love. A woman with her beauty was an obvious catch for any man, no matter what race.

My attention went back to Yasmine who watched the processional with tears in her eyes. I should have found a seat near the front. I focused, willing her attention in my direction. Our eyes met as if she heard my silent call. She squinted and then smiled.

I glanced at my attire. Neither of us had seen each other outside of our work clothes. Plus I wore contacts.

Yasmine wanted a companion. My goal was to impress her and her friends.

We connected as we discovered each other in a new light. I read her eyes. She needed emotional support. I would give her anything she needed.

My attention went to the bride and her father. They were taking too damn long to get down the aisle.

Every part of me wanted to grab Yasmine and take her away from here. I contemplated pushing the bride aside. Then what? Would I hold her? Kiss her? Promise everything would be all right?

Those options didn’t exist. After all, we were friends.

Just friends.

A friend offered a shoulder to cry on. I had two shoulders, both of them strong, and arms to hold her.

Tonight, I would do whatever Yasmine needed to relieve the ache hidden deep within her lovely façade, away from everyone to see.

Everyone…except for me.

***

The ceremony over, I stood alone with my hands in my pockets surveying the crowd. We were ushered from the room where the vows had taken place into the foyer where tables boasting trays of fruit, cheese, crackers, and wine appeased the hungry guests until the reception started. I ate before leaving home and had no desire for wine.

I scanned the room waiting for Yasmine.

My attention trained on her the moment she appeared. She made her way towards me, stopping every few feet to speak to one of the guests or give someone a hug. When she could, our eyes met.

I took the time to enjoy the view. Yasmine was a classy woman, capable of holding her own. Since meeting her, I’d seen different sides of her personality. Yeah, she had a sassy mouth and quick wit, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t hide her vulnerable side from me.

That part called to me, urged me to protect it, to protect her.

Yasmine feared rejection, disapproval, and had an immense fear of failure.

I could relate.

“Zack, you look…,” she twirled a finger and appraised me. “Wow.”

I obliged, holding my arms from my sides for her inspection and smirked. “Didn’t think I cleaned up this well?”

Her laughter was heartfelt. “I knew you would. I’m used to seeing you in your work uniform. I have to get used to this new side of you. I like the contacts, by the way, now I can see your eyes,” her head inclined to one side. “You wear a tuxedo well,” she smiled, her eyes running over me again. “In fact, this is the style I would have chosen for you.” In true Yasmine form, she took two steps forward, adjusted my tie, and dusted off my shoulders.

Her eyes rose to mine, and her hands stilled. So did my world.

With her wearing heels, we were nearly eye-to-eye. I inhaled deeply, savoring her exotic fragrance. It was different from her usual scent imprinted in my memory. This one was soft, seductive; my mind went blank. If the perfume hadn’t done it, the weight of her hands on my shoulders would have done the trick. I focused on her mouth.

“There, much better.” Her voice low, she stepped back. Her gaze left mine and darted around the room.

The brief contact left my shoulders begging for her hands to return, while my fingers ached, wanting to pull her close.

“You’re beautiful. You’re always beautiful, but tonight… there’s something else about you…” Damn, I didn’t mean to be straight forward, but the urge to have her body pressed against mine was too strong to ignore.

Yasmine absently reached for a nonexistent strand of hair to tuck behind her ear. Today, it was pinned away from her face, leaving the length of her long neck for my viewing pleasure. “Thank you.”

I forced my attention elsewhere, not wanting to make her nervous. We silently studied people around us.

“What’s next?” My hands were in my pockets to avoid reaching over to caress her bare shoulders.

The change of subject seemed to relax her. “Oh, um…Ebony is having her makeup refreshed before we take pictures. Brian attempted to kiss all her lipstick off,” she chuckled.

“That was one hell of a kiss.”

“I’ll introduce you later if you like.”

I nodded.

“When the pictures are done, we’ll go into the dining room for dinner and dancing.”

“I assume you’ll be at the bridal table. Where do I sit?” My complete attention went to her. Her gorgeous orbs darted away a few times before settling on me.

“I’ve got names on the tables. I seated you as close to the bridal table as possible. I’ll come to you as soon as I can.”

‘I’ll come to you.’
Though simple, her words held a different meaning for me. Yasmine would definitely come to me tonight…in my dreams. No way would she ever come to my bed.