This Life: A Novel (25 page)

Chapter Forty-One

November 10

New York
,
New York

Blake lay in the
hospital, wrapped from head to toe. She was being cared for in the psychiatric
section. When she looked up from her bed, she saw all the people who mattered
to her. Kenton, her mother, Lionel, Margot—even Suki.

“I wanna die,” Blake
cried, her body in such pain she could barely move a muscle.

“Honey, no,” Margot
said. She put her hand on Blake’s forehead. “You will be fine, Blake. What
happened to you shouldn’t have happened to anyone. You will get past this, we
all will.”

“
I
wanted to kill
his ass, but you beat me to it, Boss,” Suki said, straight-faced as everyone
shifted their feet at the iciness in her voice.

Blake managed a grunt of
acknowledgment, then it dawned on her. No one could really look at her, not
even her mother.

“He’s dead?” Blake said
in a low, tired voice. “I killed someone?”

Kenton leaned in close
to her. “Don’t speak. We are taking care of everything. Don’t try to remember
anything. No charges will be filed.”

“Charges?” Blake said,
looking alarmed. She looked at Jacinta, who sat in a corner of the room,
rocking her body back and forth while she said the rosary in Spanish.

Everyone’s eyes landed
on Blake.

“Lang passed away a few
hours ago,” Kenton said, plainly.

“Lionel,” Blake said,
feeling the full impact of the moment as she brushed her son’s face with her
hand.

She closed her eyes
again, as if she wanted to disappear and never return. “I didn’t know what else
to do.”

“That’s why it’s
self-defense. You were protecting yourself.”

Blake felt empty. Dead
inside herself. Something told her that Lang had taken enough from her, and he
had almost taken her with him. She was still alive, her second chance to make
things right in her life again.  

“God forgive me,” Blake
cried out. “Please forgive me!”

Lionel sat quietly,
looking at Blake. She stared at him, searching for words.

“Do you want him to
leave?” Kenton asked.

“No, he can be here. He
should know what happened.”

“Lionel,” Blake said,
doing her best to sit up in the bed with Kenton’s help. “Lang was your father. I’m
sorry,” she said, reading the saddened look on his face. She took a deep
swallow. “Lang raped me many years ago, and you were born. You are my greatest
gift, and I hope you—”

“I forgive you, Mommy. I
couldn’t let anyone hurt you like he did. I hate him,” Lionel said, his eyes
swollen.

She laid his head on her
chest. “It’s okay. Feel what you feel. I’m here for you,” she said, brushing
his hair with her hands as he cried. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he
said.

Kenton and Margot left
the room, followed by Suki, who laid a bouquet of flowers from the team on
Blake’s nightstand. Blake smiled at her warmly.

Now she and Lionel were
left alone. Blake held him for at least fifteen minutes, and when she looked
down, he had fallen asleep on her chest. For the first time in a while, she
felt free and loved unconditionally.

#

November 12

Miami
,
Florida

When Blake checked out
of the hospital, she boarded the next available flight to
Miami
.

As she watched the city
get smaller and smaller from the ascending plane, her stomach sank. With her
mother seated next to her, she wondered what Jacinta was thinking. She hadn’t
said many words and kept her rosary to her chest. She knew her mother was
praying for her. She didn’t exactly expect a pat on the back for what she did,
but she wanted something.

“I’m sorry,” she said to
Jacinta, who sat with her red-colored rosary dangling between her fingers. “I
ask God to forgive me every day.”

Jacinta patted Blake’s
hands. “I am praying for myself.”

Blake tilted her head to
the side. “What?”

“I wish you had killed
him earlier. I wish he was never born. I wish
I
could have seen you kill
that
hijo de la granputa
!”

A few passengers turned
to look at them.

Blake didn’t know
whether to laugh or cry. She put her arms around her mother, feeling her
fragile head landing on her shoulders, her soft, gray curls tumbling down the
side of her face. Jacinta’s body shook. “You almost died,
mija
. You
almost died,” she wept.

A flight attendant
walked by and handed Blake a napkin for Jacinta. “Scared of flying, eh.” She half-smiled
at Blake.

Blake nodded. She had thought
Jacinta’s silence was all about her, when her mother probably had gone through
just as much pain as she did. Instead of being comforted by her mother’s words
assuring her that her soul would be rescued from damnation after a thousand Hail
Marys, she comforted her mother and let the warmth of her mother’s body heal
her.

#

Several hours later,
after Blake dropped her mom off at her condo, she went home. There was no one
there but Kenton.

“How are you?” he said,
standing at her door in loose linen slacks and a white shirt. “Or is that a
dumb question?”

“Dumb,” Blake muttered
as he took her bags and she flopped her body on the couch.

He sat beside her. “Are
you going to be okay?”

The sounds of Miles
Davis’s “So What” vibrated through the walls from the next room.
He must
have gotten his hands on my jazz collection, one of Daddy’s favorites.
But
Blake couldn’t bring herself to mention it. She let the ebbs and flows of the
jazz melody calm and soothe her.

“You know,” Kenton said,
moving closer, his breath against her. “You don’t have to be strong for me.”

Blake rubbed her head,
hoping that the sleep that awaited her didn’t come with any more nightmares.

 “I’m okay, I said. Don’t
you get it? I don’t have time to spend in a mental hospital or go over this a
hundred times. I got shit I have to do.”

Kenton kissed her forehead
gently. “Let me make love to you.” He turned her face to his and landed a kiss
on her mouth.

She felt her body
loosen. “I’m not in the mood,” she said, but she was. She wanted nothing more.

“I don’t believe you.”
He smiled.

“Kenton,” she said,
smiling, “I don’t know how to relax sometimes. I can’t. I killed a man.”

Kenton rose and walked
to the kitchen, reappearing in seconds with two glasses of wine. “Here,” he
said. “Wine is for things you have to accept. You have to accept what happened
and
how
it happened.”

Blake gulped the wine
down. Kenton handed her his glass and said, “And this too shall pass.”

She took a long,
satisfying sip. “People may forgive, but they won’t forget.”

“What matters is that
you forgive yourself. Fuck, people.”

Blake held in her urge
to laugh. She had never heard Kenton curse. She nodded in agreement and sipped
again. She knew that she held the power switch to turn this all around, but not
today.

 “You weren’t charged
with anything. All the witnesses who saw the attack vouched that you fought for
your life. Successfully, I might add.”

“I’m sure there’s some
karma somewhere for my ass.”

“Blake, you did the
right thing. Trust me.”

“What about you? I know
this won’t help your campaign at all.”

“This will be old news
by next week when they find something else. Okay?” He swept a few strands of hair
away from her eyes. “If you keep looking guilty, people will treat you that
way. Celebrate, Blake. You’re an inspiration.”

“How?”

Kenton pulled out a few
letters. “These were sitting in the mailbox. Can’t be more than a few days old.
I’m thinking this is fan mail.” He smiled.

Blake opened the letters.
They were from women thanking her for her courage. It was like the cloud over
her began to float away. “This one,” she said, reading it closely, “is an
invitation to speak at the Global Women Against Violence Summit next year.”

He laughed. “Did you
check your email yet?”

Blake’s eyes darted to
her phone, and she opened her email to find that it was jam-packed with
invitations and emails of support. Her jaw dropped.

“Now, can you see the
other side of this? Don’t create a jail for yourself, when the rest of the
world has already set you free.”

Blake closed the email. “I’ll
have Edith get to these in the morning,” she said, looking at the ground,
humbled by what she read. “Among other things. God knows how much unfinished
business there is. Wishman Spears.” She looked up at the ceiling. “That’ll be
my last building.”

“Blake?” Kenton looked
up at her face. “How about we just focus on now, getting
now
right?”

“Now hasn’t been right
for a long time,” Blake said, shaking her head back and forth. “And I don’t
know how to fix it anymore. I don’t think I want to.”

“Come with me.” Kenton
took her by the hand to the bedroom as Miles’s periodic lifts in tension seemed
to fit Kenton’s unhurried, easy way about it all. There, he laid her on the bed
and crawled next to her. Cocooned by his full-bodied embrace, Blake felt
protected. He held the space for her to be herself—messy, vulnerable, and
loved. Tears streamed down her nose, cheeks, and lips like water let out from a
dam. Each tear came from the pit of her stomach and the deep anguish she hadn’t
been able to let flow till now. She imagined each tear bringing her to a better
understanding of her own self, not washing away, but blessing the good and bad
of her past. Right then, a thin silver beam of light came through a slit in the
curtains and penetrated the darkness. It was just enough to see.

EPILOGUE

One year later

Blake stood in front of
the towering Wishman Spears building with her team, including Thomas. She was
snug in the middle with a pair of scissors about to cut her last ribbon, when a
reporter asked, “Ms. Bertrand, what’s next for you?”

Blake looked at the
passersby and small group of investors who stood before her with TV cameras and
newspaper reporters. “I have some plans, which I will reveal when the time is right.
Now is the time to celebrate the opening of one of the most beautiful pieces of
real estate the city has ever seen!” With that, Blake clipped the ribbon to
signify that Wishman Spears was finally open for business.

This was what Blake lived
for, but the truth was, she had other plans already mapped out. She was moving
quietly out of
Miami
with Kenton to create a
real family for Lionel, and support Kenton’s run for Senator. She thought it
was an excellent way to give back, and if she had to vote for a Senator, it
would be for Kenton Rhodes. Blake knew that he had lived under her spotlight
for over a year, and she was okay with putting the shoe on the other foot.

“You never looked
better in McQueens,” Margot said to Blake.

Blake kicked her foot back
playfully. She was wearing the six-inch McQueen sandals she kept by her bed. “And
I never felt better than I do today, except the day Lionel came back into my
life.”

“Are you ready to play
the Senator’s wife?” whispered Margot in her ear.

Blake laughed, for she
didn’t exactly imagine herself being anybody’s anything. “We’re not getting
married. I just agreed to go with him, and see what I can do.”

“Knowing you, Blake,
you will find yourself into something. Big.”

“True,” Blake laughed. “But
right now I’m just excited. I’ve got two awesome men in my life that care about
me. I’m just finally glad I let them do that.”

“It can be pretty hard
for girls like us when our lives lose control.” Margot winked as she held Anna,
Thomas’s lovely daughter that they had both easily adopted from an eager Robin.

“It’s that craziness
that little miracles seep through.” Blake lovingly eyed little Anna. “Sometimes
I wonder why I worried so much.”