The Crossover (16 page)

“Jo, find a chamber and lock yourself in.”

“Okay. I’m in. I locked the door,” she panted.

I stood and knocked on the wall behind her.

“Clay, there’s someone knocking on my door. I’m scared.”

“Don’t be scared, Jo. I’ve summoned an angel. It’s the angel of forgiveness. If you want to live, you must open the door.”

“I can’t, Clay. It’s my time.”

I banged louder on the wall this time.

“Jo, it’s me. Let me in. If you don’t I will be killed with the rest. Is it my time to die too?”

“No. Why are you here?” she sobbed.

“Because I care. Please let me in.”

Jo slowly raised her hand and she unlocked the door.

“Clay, there’s an angel behind you. She’s holding a baby, my baby. I want to hold her, please.”

In my mind’s eye I could see everything crystal clear, like I was there with her.

Jo’s maternal instinct kicked in. She began to cradle and rock gently left to right. It was extraordinary to observe.

“Clay, look. She’s so beautiful. I will call her Lily. I can feel her love.”

“Jo, I think you want to live.”

“Yes, I wanna live.”

“Hold on to your baby tightly, very tightly.”

“All right, what’s happening?”

I grabbed the sides of the recliner with both hands. I shook it left to right as hard as I could.

“Clay, the earth is shaking. What’s happening?”

“The earth is swallowing up the enemy, hold on!”

I rocked it vigorously until I was out of breath.

“It stopped,” Jo commented.

“Jo, I think it’s safe. Let’s go to the gatehouse.”

With her free hand Jo waved.

“Who are you waving to, Jo?”

“The angel. I’ve been forgiven.”

I was emotionally exhausted and spent. I felt what Jo felt and I saw the things Jo had seen. I saw the angel too, it was Winnie.

G
ood morning Ms. Dawson, my name is John. Master Thompson sent me to collect you. He was called away for an urgent matter. May I help you with your luggage?”

“How did you know I was Monet?”

“His description of you left nothing to the imagination. He described you perfectly.”

“I can’t believe Clay couldn’t make it. It must be something really important. Okay, John, lead the way.”

“Right this way, Ms. Dawson. There’s a strike outside but not to worry.”

“Strike? Who’s striking?”

“The black cabbies. The car is not far away, just there.”

“Very nice. Is that a Bentley?” Monet commented.

“Yes, it is. The rear windows are tinted for your privacy.”

“Privacy? Why would I need privacy?”

John opened the rear passenger door.

“Hey, beautiful,” I said to her surprise.

Monet was tongue-tied but was quick to slide next to me and give me one of her patented kisses.

John started the engine and drove off.

By the time we broke our embrace we were cruising on the M25 headed northbound.

I was so glad to see Monet. I had started counting down the days and it seemed it took forever for this day to come. I hired a chauffeur because I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her for the 90-minute stretch.

John complimented Monet on her accent and it took a second for her to realize she was a foreigner in England.

For about twenty minutes Monet admired England’s beautiful countryside. She commented on one of her initial observations.

“Honey, I heard the black cabbies were striking outside the airport.”

“Yes, it’s been two weeks now. It’s all over the News,” I replied.

Monet shook her head in disappointment. She responded, “Baby, as a people we need to get with the program. I was hoping that Blacks in England would have a better disposition.”

John quietly laughed at Monet’s commentary. I offered some clarification.

“Sweetheart, that’s the name of the company,
Black Cabs.
Their drivers are called black cabbies.”

I knew her experience in England would be enlightening and I looked forward to introducing her to English culture. After living in England for over a decade, I was familiar with English customs and beliefs. However, there was one exception. There is one belief held by many English people that most Americans find disturbing. This trip would be our indoctrination.

I was proud to have the Bentley pull into my drive. I was in a three-hundred thousand dollar car with a million-dollar girl at my side. A few of my neighbors gave me a friendly nod.

“Clay, who is that woman?” Monet asked, peering out the passenger window.

“Oh, that’s Jo. I wonder how she’s doing?”

Monet was checking Jo out head to toe.

“Jo should be getting a call real soon,” Monet whispered.

“From who?” I asked.

“From 1966, they want their clothes back.”

“Jo is kinda quirky, but once you get to know her she has a heart of gold. But don’t hold your breath; I don’t think she will come around.”

“Why not?” Monet asked on our way in.

“Jo is a little socially challenged. She’s shy. Very shy.”

As soon as Monet dropped her bags in my hallway she gave me another one of those world famous kisses, the kind you never want to end. In just a few moments I would have her pinned against the wall in a frenzy. Monet unzipped my trousers and I hoisted her skirt above her waist as fast as I could.

“Clay, I think there is someone at your door.”

“Damn! I’ll get rid of them. Hold that thought.”

I zipped up my trousers and Monet adjusted her blouse and skirt.

“Jo?”

“Clay, hope I’m not disturbing anything. Am I?”

Monet approached the door and introduced herself.

“Hi, Jo. You didn’t interrupt anything. Come on in. My name is Monet.”

This is not happening,
I thought to myself.

I had one thing on my mind and it would have to wait.

Monet went to the bathroom to freshen up and I took the opportunity to tell Jo not to mention the book because Monet didn’t approve.

“Clay, I think the session worked. I struggled at first about coming over but I just took control. I did it. This is huge!”

My insatiable passion for Monet completely overshadowed an obvious milestone for Jo.

I gave Jo a hug and told her I was really happy it worked out.

“Clay, just one question about the session that’s been bugging me. I remember being on an elevator and I pressed a button with red letters. The letters were A M C. What does that mean?”

I led Jo into my living room and we sat on the sofa. I explained.

“Jo, A M C stands for Absolute Mental Clarity.”

“Hmm, now I know why I was so afraid to meet people and make friends.”

“Was it something that happened in your childhood?” I asked.

“No. When I was diagnosed with cancer years ago I think I made a subconscious decision to cut the world off. New friendships would make it harder to leave. I think I deliberately made introductions uncomfortable and awkward. When I passed away, I didn’t want anyone to mourn for me or miss me.”

“That makes perfect sense. So, your shyness was merely a symptom of a more complex issue. I had no idea it would be linked to your medical condition.”

“The strangest part is I don’t feel sick anymore. I haven’t felt this normal in a long time. My appetite for life is coming back with a vengeance. I have another scan coming up. I wonder what it will read.”

There was one part of the session that puzzled me and I had to inquire.

“Jo, I have a question for you. I’ve been thinking about it ever since our session. It’s about The Lord’s Prayer. You recited it in trance with me aloud.”

“What’s so strange about that?” Jo asked.

“I said it in my head.”

Monet came downstairs. I think she overheard part of the conversation.

“Clay, I think I just heard Tom Jones singing,” Monet commented.

“Oh, that’s my phone,” Jo replied before booting the call into voicemail.

Monet put her hands on her hips and then pointed towards Jo.

“Please tell me that’s not your real phone, Jo.”

“Yes, it’s my real phone. Why?”

Monet sat between Jo and me on the sofa.

“It’s a flip phone. My grandfather ditched his flip phone in the nineties. Jo, don’t take this the wrong way but you need a makeover, okay. You’re a pretty girl and you need to flaunt it.”

“That sound nice but I am who I am. I don’t know how to be anything else. But sometimes I wonder how it would be to have someone to want me like Clay wants you.”

Monet and Jo were bonding. It was like I was invisible.

Monet stood and told Jo to follow her upstairs. I was told to stay downstairs. I felt like a puppy that was told to sit and stay. I stayed, for a little while.

Monet and Jo went into my study and shut the door.

All kinds of strange ideas floated through my mind. It was a little too quiet up there so I tiptoed upstairs trying to avoid the stairs that creaked. I listened in.

“Monet, this is all new to me. I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Jo, a lot of women are into this now. Just open your mind.”

“But what if Clay finds out?” Jo asked.

“He’s not gonna find out. This will be our little secret, okay?”

What the f...?
I thought.

“Okay, what do we have here? I’ll keep going down till you tell me to stop, all right?,” Monet said.

“Keep going, keep going. Stop right there. Ahh, that’s the one,” Jo replied excitedly.

I couldn’t bear it anymore, I stormed in.

Monet was angry, Jo was embarrassed.

“Clay, really!” Monet complained.

What I imagined and what I stumbled upon were millions of miles apart.

Monet was introducing Jo to internet dating. Monet was scrolling down to view profiles of eligible men.

“Clay, what did you think we were doing?” Monet asked, standing inches away from my face.

I couldn’t apologize enough to the both of them. I felt pathetic.

Monet and Jo continued scrolling through profiles. Monet had a few words of advice.

“Jo, never choose someone local, and one more thing... we gotta find you a new phone.”

“Welcome to Phones 4u, how can I help?” asked the assistant.

Monet whispered to the assistant just loud enough for Jo and I to hear.

“My friend here has a flip phone. We need to bring here into the new millennium. Can you hook us up?”

“Sure, not a problem. We have a wide range of phones from mild to wild. We have a slimline
Nokia
on offer at the moment. It’s our top of the line. Here, take a look.”