Beautiful Liar (3 page)

              After I dropped Marley off, I spent the rest of the work day at my favorite Moroccan Restaurant smoking a hookah, stuffing my face with their signature appetizer, and sipping two dry martinis.  By the time I got home, I was enervated from contemplating my next move. I had no job, yet somehow I needed to find a place to live, since living with a man whose face I just spit in would be tricky.

              Sharron spoke, “Hey, Nola.”

              Trying to avoid conversation and to keep her from spotting my disheveled appearance, I didn’t bother to make eye contact with her this time. With my fur opened, exposing my now untucked and halfway unbuttoned shirt, and my hair pulled into a sloppy high bun, I pressed the elevator button and looked down at my shoes.

              I moaned, “Hey, Sharron.”

              “I have your stuff,” she replied.

              I threw my head back and groaned as I approached her desk, “I am so tired. I don’t even remember what I ordered. How big is it?”

              I nearly tripped over garbage bags and boxes as I made my way over to her desk.

              “Jees! Someone moving out?”

              Sharron raised her eyebrow, and scratched her now wavy and burgundy wig. She spoke through clenched teeth. “Uh yeaaah… you?”

              I felt my heart leap from my chest and crash to the floor somewhere in between the gigantic black trash bags. I heard her, but I didn’t hear her. When I asked her to repeat herself, it looked like Sharron’s lips moved in slow motion.

              “All of this is your stuff,” she said.

              I dropped my maxi handbag on her desk and frantically ripped through one of the bags. Dresses and suits were balled up but on a hanger. All of them were definitely mine. I untied another bag and found more of my clothes and some coats. I opened a box to discover some of my shoes and boots. There were six garbage bags and eight boxes total. My body burned, and my chest rose and fell rapidly. Then, my voice boomed through the lobby.

“
THAT BASTARD!”
I screeched.

              Sharron flapped one hand, and raised a finger to “shhhh” me with the other.

              “He has my Vera’s, House of CB, and Zimmerman dresses crammed in a garbage bag. IS HE CRAZY??!!” She didn’t have a chance to respond as I said, “Sharron, please watch my things while I run up and trash up his place!”

              She buried her face in her hands and then dragged her hands down her face. “He changed the locks, Nola.”

              If my eyes were bullets, her face would have been shot up. I snapped my head back, “What did you just say?”

              “I saw him leave with a locksmith,” she said quietly.

***

              I swapped my heels for my Ugg Boots and loaded my things into the Range. Sharron began helping me before I could even ask.

              She stuffed the last bag onto the back seat and asked, “Are you okay?”

              I said nothing.

              She continued, “If this happened to me, I would have lost it.”

              I quietly loaded a box into the trunk, then grumbled, “I’m fine.”

              “Are you gonna cry?” she asked in a sincerely concerned tone.

              “I don’t cry,” I replied frankly.

              “You need to. It’s not good to hold pain inside. It’ll bubble over at the wrong time.”

              I slammed the trunk shut. “If there were any truth to that, I would have combusted over twenty years ago.” I took Sharron’s hand. “Thanks for helping me. Here’s a tip.”

              Sharron looked down at her hand. Her eyes nearly popped out of her face when she saw that she was holding onto my engagement ring.

              She smacked her gums, stuck out her tongue. “You know Im’ma pawn this, right?”

***

              “What do you mean your condo caught fire? Where are you?” Marley asked in a panic.

              I calmly replied, “FeliciTEAs.”

              “Your condo caught fire and you are sitting somewhere sipping tea?”

              “I was shaken up and needed to calm my nerves. The good thing is that I was able to get my stuff…” I looked at my loaded SUV, through the large window in front of me, “
all
…of my stuff.”

              Marley sighed through the phone. “Yes. Glory to God. Where is Trav?”

              “Trav is gone.”

              Marley shrieked, “What?!”

              I pulled my phone from my ear to protect my eardrums. “Calm down, child. He’s not gone as in death. Gone as in away… for a couple of months. Business. You know how that goes.”

              Marley gasped, “Ooooooo. So that’s why he was so upset earlier. He’s gonna miss you!”

              Yeah… sure… whatever.
I sipped my cherry flavored green tea and slouched. FeliciTEAs was crowded as usual. It was packed with students, avid readers, writers, corporate folks, and anybody who needed free Wi-Fi and that country-styled living room feel. I loved it there and everything about it. The delicious yet becalming scent of premium teas, the multiple sofa and coffee table set-ups throughout the shop, the shelves and shelves of borrowed books along the wall, and the randomly, but maybe strategically, placed wall décor that read,
“Welcome Home
,” “
Sip. Chat. Reminisce
,” and
“Love is Unmeasurable
” which were all probably meant to make a store full of strangers feel like family.

              Marley sighed again. “Sounds like you’re having a tough evening. If you need to stay with me for a while, you know you’re always welcome.”

              Marley lived in an apartment out in Delaware, quite a distance from my parents. Although I’ve only been there twice, I knew staying with her wasn’t going to be an option. She lived like a freshmen college student with lights on in every room—even on a sunny day—mix match table and glassware, and clothing thrown every which way. No thanks! Plus, the thought of having to live with my mentee was depressing.
She was my mentee
- not a good look!

              “Thanks, but I have it under control.”

              “Yeah. I guess I am being silly. I’m sure Trav has a hotel booked for you already.”

              I rolled my eyes and said, “You know Trav.”

              “You are so blessed, Nola.”

              I rolled my eyes again.

              “I pray that God moves in my life as he moves in yours,” she continued.

              I huffed, “Marley, don’t start with the God talk right now. I’m not in the mood.”

              She laughed. “Tough times are the best times to talk about Him!”

              While Marley giggled, a tall man with a knit Eagles hat approached my sofa.

              “Excuse me. Can I sit here?”

              I shook my head “no” and continued with Marley, “No preaching. You preach even when you don’t realize you’re preaching.”

              The man, who was still standing in front of me, looked to the left and then to the right just before sitting next to me anyway. S              shocked by his blatant mutiny, I dropped my phone to my lap and snapped my neck back like a ‘hood girl would.

              “I said you couldn’t sit here, Rosa!” I spat.

              The man tilted his head… and then he slowly shook it. Still, he didn’t budge.

              “
Hello?!
You need to move. I’m having a personal conversation with my friend. I’d appreciate it if you respected my privacy.”

              “Look man—“

              “Woman. I’m obviously a woman.”

              “—I had a rough day. There is nowhere sit, and I’m tired. I don’t feel like standing, nor do I feel like having a confrontation. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to study my bible.”

              “I do mind. And, your bible? Are you kidding me? Go to a church! If you’re tired, go home!”

              The unbothered man flipped through his bible and shifted in his seat in an effort to get comfy. Then he said, “I’m gonna ignore you.”

              “
Jerk
,” I mumbled as I lifted my phone back to my ear.

              Marley was still connected.

              “Nola! What happened? Is someone bothering you? Maybe you should head to your hotel now. Crazy people come out at this hour.”

***

              I think my mother was pretty happy to see me. My father, not at all. He stood against the kitchen cabinet with his arms folded and his face wrinkled with agitation. My mom sat at the kitchen table with her chin resting on top of her folded hands. Even when she was concerned, she looked strikingly beautiful. She used to model for catalogs to help pay her way through medical school, and she still had “it.” Tonight, she looked as if she were modeling her grey satin pajamas. Her dark thick, long hair fell suavely and draped over her shoulders as if it were a hooded blanket. Her long eyelashes batted as her gaze wavered from me to my father, and then back to me.

              “I can’t believe he fired you, then kicked you out of the condo all in the same night,” she shook her head. “And, he gave you gonorrhea…”

              My father groaned, “After all the money we shelled out for that wedding.” He pointed at me, “You have a case. Take him to court and get EVERY penny I spent.”

              My mother exhaled and gently placed her hands on top of mine.

              “Before you do anything, you need to figure out where you’ll live right now.”

              My father chimed, “That’s what her trust fund is for. She should have enough to find a good house in the morning.”

              I rose from the table and grabbed a bottle of Riesling from their wine rack. “That’s what I needed to talk to you both about,” I added as I poured myself a glass.

              My mother eyed me, and suspiciously asked, “What, Nola?”

              I took a large gulp of the Riesling and swirled in my mouth allowing myself time to get the words out.  My father instantly read my body language.

              He pounded his hand against the cabinet and yelled, “SHE EMPTIED IT!”

              “Nola… No,” my mother moaned.

              I said, “Not exactly all of it. There just isn’t enough to buy a good house… or rent a good place. And, you know I’m not going to any old neighborhood.”

              My father paced the floor the way attorneys do, running his fingers through his white hair. His pale face was now red from anger. “Your grandfather worked until it killed him…. and you just blow it…like it’s nothing… like it’s toilet paper to wipe your ass with.”

              My mother exhaled, “Nola, I thought you had your spending under control.”

              “Mom, I tried. Trav dragged me through hell for the past several months. I was so stressed… I maxed his cards, and then I maxed mine.”

              My father laughed sarcastically, “Stressed. You lived in a building with millionaires. You were practically handed a career. Your wedding was being paid for. You drive a Range Rover paid off by us. Your bank account has never been under $50,000 for more than two weeks with the help of the trust and with the help of us, and
YOU
were
STRESSED
? Do you know that your brothers haven’t touched a penny of their inheritance?”

              “Hunny, calm down. You need to relax,” my mom said in her usual angelic tone.

              He spat, “She’s a joke!”

              I cut my eyes at my father and barked, “Frankenstein, I’m YOUR monster!”

              “Don’t you DARE blame me.”

              My mother jumped to her feet, “Walter. Nola. Enough. Dominic is upstairs sleeping. You both are getting too loud.”

              I sat down and said, “I need to squat here. It’ll be temporary - just until I get myself together.”

              My father shoved his hands into his pockets, still pacing the floor. “You’ll never get it together. You were born a failure,” he said coldly.

              Then, there was a CLINK-CLASH! I flung my wine glass, and shards flew in every direction as it crashed to the floor. My mother jumped back, dodging the shatter.

              “Nola!” she cried.

              “He’s an ASSHOLE! And, why do always you allow him to talk to me like that?”

              My father groaned, “No, I’m your ATM!” He turned to my mother, “If she breaks another dish in our house, we’re cutting her off. I mean it this time.”

              He left us in the kitchen sitting silently. Finally, my mother handed me the broom and followed her darling husband upstairs. I sat and stared at nothing in particular as I recalled the events of my day.  Trav gave me gonorrhea, yet I’m the one who ended up fired, homeless, and on the verge of being cut off by my parents.  What a day…