Frost on My Window (4 page)

“I wish…” My words trailed off. What should I say? I didn’t know that day in the coffee house with the snow falling outside and I didn’t know now.

Lance stared right past me, his eyes unfocused. “I was just being stupid. If it was anyone’s fault, it was mine. I saw Sherrie as the person I wanted her to be, the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my days with, not the person she really was. Gotta tell you something, Lee. You can’t hide your true nature when you’re married.”

“What did she do to you?” I leaned over and touched his hand.

“We said and did a lot of things to each other,” he replied.

“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” Rena’s voice called out.

“Have a nice nap, cuz?”

“You know it,” she responded. “Hey, Lance.”

Lance stood up and walked over and gave her a big hug. Rena’s eyes never left mine for a moment.

“So Ms. Up and Coming Record Exec, can you hook an old friend up with one of those fine singers of yours? Nina maybe?”

Rena shook her head and moved towards the kitchen table. “Still haven’t learned, have you? Always a sucker for a pretty face.”

I had to bite my lip on that one. Rena rarely pulled her punches, and it looked like today wasn’t going to Lance’s lucky day.

“Come on now…” he replied.

“You might want to try checking for a pulse and a personality in the future, my friend,” Rena added, giving Lance a thump on the back.

I was saved from hearing Lance’s comeback by the sound of the kitchen door opening.

“We’re back!”

I reached out to take the plastic grocery bag from Mom’s hand. Lance was heading out the kitchen door to the open car trunk.

“Nice to see you, son.” Pop patted Lance on the shoulder.

“Great to see you, too, Pop,” Lance replied.

I turned from putting the groceries up to see my father give Lance a tight hug. Just like old times. Didn’t matter whose kid you were in this house, we were all my father’s children.

“You going to be joining us downstairs?”

“You sure about that, Pop?” Lance cracked his knuckles. “I don’t want to take all your money.”

“Boy, who you think you talking to? I was playing poker before you were a thought in your mama’s mind. Take my money? By the time I get finished with you, you’ll be walking home without those fancy shoes of yours.”

The sound of Lance’s laughter, which used to be loud and heavy, was muted. Rena and I shared a glance. She’d noticed, too. People change, some more than others. But it seemed that one thing hadn’t changed: I still cared for him. I still wasn’t over the boy I’d fallen in love with, even though he’d become a different man.

Saturday afternoons after they’d finished mowing the lawn, washing the car or shoveling the snow, my father’s friends would leave their wives and kids to spend hours in our basement huddled over the card table drinking beer and eating grandmother’s fried catfish with hot sauce.

During those loud hours, Mom would go to the salon and leave Pop in charge of the house. Ralph would pull up a chair next to the card table hoping to get a sip of beer or maybe a chance to take a puff of Pop’s pipe. I sat next to Rena on the carpet-covered stairs and watched as my Pop transformed into a card shark named Deuce. The sweet smell of tobacco would waft upstairs and into the kitchen, mingling with the scent of catfish and chicken. Rena and I would run up and down the stairs taking messages and delivering food and drinks.

I watched Lance and Pop head towards the basement. For that one moment, I would have given anything to have that time back.

* * *

Only, time was supposed to heal. After we’d gotten home from the Sunday church service, I sat under the shade of the back porch and laid my head against the side banister. Forgiveness. The reverend’s message played like an old song in my mind. The image of Rena’s wet face and smile appeared in the darkness of my closed eyes. The sound of weeping as my mother fell to the floor, her chest heaving, and my father’s whispers.

I felt the slight breeze on my skin and it hurt. Same wind, different day. The sun rose and set, the world turned, and God was there. The Lord was here, but he couldn’t keep Rena’s parents from dying. Couldn’t keep my cousin and Mom from crying. I sighed and opened my eyes and looked up at a sky devoid of clouds. Just a sea of baby blue.

I missed my grandmama on days like this. All the memories I had of her shone like stained glass on a sunny day. All you could do was stare at the shimmering colors until the holy image hung on the back of your eyelids. I missed her but I’d always have a part of her with me. I carried Mama; her presence inside me was full and peaceful. I remembered everything about her.

“Hey, you okay?” came a soft voice.

I looked over to see Rena sitting next to me. She’d changed out of her church clothes into jeans and a knit top. I smiled and a wave of love washed over me.

“Yeah, just thinking,” I answered.

“About the sermon?”

I nodded. The pastor’s words were always thought provoking, but this morning’s service hit close to home. “Yeah. You too?”

Forgive us our daily trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.

I looked down and saw a little ant carrying its prize across the stone steps. It could carry more than a hundred times its body weight. I wondered how much a woman could carry? How much sorrow could Rena bear? One day too soon, a letter would come. I’d have to watch Rena remember all the things she’d lost. The parents she’d only seen in photos and dreams. Wishful thinking never stopped the postman and wouldn’t keep guilt from eating away at the man who’d killed Rena’s parents. And I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to suffer, and the intensity of that desire scared me.

“So what are Mom and Pop doing?” I asked.

“Mom’s on the phone with Mrs. Barker.”

I rolled my eyes skywards. “She didn’t get enough of her gossip fix in church this morning?”

“Apparently not. When I left the kitchen she was trying to get the scoop on the newest members of the church.”

“Rena?” I asked after a minute.

“Hmmm?”

“Isn’t it nice being home again?”

She nodded. “I never realized how much I missed this place until this morning.”

“It was the big breakfast, wasn’t it?”

She kicked my shoe. “It’s the people. We’ve known some of these people for years. Reverend Sanders actually poured water over your nappy little ’fro, and he directed all my Christmas plays.”

“Not to mention Vacation Bible School,” I added.

“True.” Rena closed her eyes and angled her face towards the sun. Her locks flowed over the green sundress.

“I have to say, though, I’m ready to get back to New York.” I sighed.

“Missing the bright lights already, huh?” Rena smiled.

“No. Just worried that Simba might have eaten all the plants by now.”

“You and that cat,” she muttered.

“Don’t even try it. I’ve seen you sneak him pieces of tuna. That’s why he’s getting so fat. Pretty soon we’ll have to put him on a diet.”

Rena opened her mouth and closed it again. She shrugged and said, “Damn thing looked so pathetic I had to give him a little something.”

“Pathetic? Simba’s overweight,” I pointed out. “You were with me when the vet told us to feed him that special cat food.”

She wrinkled her nose. “The stuff smells nasty and looks worse. I wouldn’t eat it, either.”

“Yeah, well, it’s either the special food or you’re going to have to carry his lazy behind to the kitty litter.”

“Point well taken. Now can we get back inside? It’s hot out here and these steps are murder on my backside.”

“Poor baby,” I cooed. “Need a lift? Since you’re getting on in years and all.” I reached up to grab the railing.

“Shut up.” Rena slapped at my leg and both of us walked through the back door laughing. Just like old times.

* * *

“It won’t work,” Rena repeated for about the fifteenth time.

“Rena…” I warned.

“Okay.” She sat back and crossed her arms, frowning.

We’d been back from my parents for about two weeks when I got the itch to take the landlady’s advice. The older Jamaican woman believed in the spirits. Since nothing else in my life seemed to be working, I thought I’d give the “other world” a try. Right now I had nothing left to lose. Having tried my luck on the West Coast and not found Price Charming, I wasn’t overly optimistic that the brotha might be chilling out next door in Brooklyn. Then again, if he were, I probably wouldn’t even recognize him.

I turned my attention back to the table and carefully laid out the burgundy blue cards. A frisson of excitement ran down my spine.

“Leah, I’m telling you this mess will get you into trouble.”

“Girl, what’s up with you?” I questioned. “I thought you always wanted to walk on the wild side.”

“Wild side, cuz. Not the other side.” She waved at the cards. “Why don’t you call Ms. Cleo or some other psychic line? They got all the answers. Shoot, you could mess up and get stuck with Ike Turner for the rest of your life.”

The remaining cards I held spilled out of my hand onto the table as I laughed. “Please. This is no kind of love spell. Mrs. Renard told me that they were just clarifying cards.”

“Can you spell c-r-a-z-y?” Rena enunciated. “Clarifying cards? You ask the woman we both know can do some mystical stuff to help you clarify. Clarify what? That you’ve lost your mind? Lance isn’t worth this,” she announced while sweeping her hand over the table.

“You’re right. Lance isn’t worth this, but I’m worth it. Look at the cards, Rena.”

I watched as she suspiciously turned one over.

STRENGTH.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Each card has a personality trait your soul mate should have.”

Rena pulled her hand back as if she’d touched a hot flame.

“So you’re going to let some random cards decide what your man’s going to be like?” she questioned.

“No, I’m not.”

“That’s what it looks like to me. Girl, just because you’ve had one intense non-relationship with a man who couldn’t see the swans through the chickenheads doesn’t mean you should give up.”

“This coming from the woman who has well-educated, handsome, incredible men falling at her feet,” I said sarcastically, while gathering my cards.

I sighed. “Look Rena, I know you don’t mean to be critical, but you don’t know where I’m coming from right now.” I stood up.

“You’re right about that. So why don’t you tell me?” She leaned back.

“I want to have a plan. Get some direction in my life. When we were in Philly, I got a wake-up call. It’s time I not only moved on but also put some effort into finding him.”

“Him?”

“I know in my heart that although Lance is a Mr. Right, he was never Mr. Right for me. I want what Mom and Pop have and I’ve got to be able to recognize the man when I meet him.”

“So you bought…” She pointed to the cards I held in my hands.

“Borrowed.”

“The cards.”

I nodded and eased back into the chair. “There’s nothing random about this. I draw twenty cards and I turn over ten. The order that I turn them over is sequential to their importance in what characteristics Mr. Right will need to have. That way I’ll have a firm understanding of what I need.”

Though Rena smiled at me, her eyes still said, ‘You’re crazy.’ But there was some understanding peeking out. She tapped her manicured finger on the table.

I pointed out my last important reason for trying out the cards. “Did you know I’ve taken more time to write my Christmas list than thinking about what I wanted in a man?”

Rena drew up in surprise. “Even in California, I always thought of Lance.” I shook my head. “I didn’t know it then but I compared every man I met to him, and who can compare with a dream? That’s part of the reason I’m alone right now. I’m putting that ghost to bed tonight.”

“Well, I’m happy you’ve finally gotten him out your system.”

“Thanks, sister dear.”

“Now why don’t you do me a favor?” She held out her hand.

“What?”

“Hand over the cards and get us something to drink. If you can do it, so can I.”

* * *

Lord, morning always came too soon. Especially after going through a half-gallon of Breyer’s ice cream, a liter of Diet Coke, and staying up half the night. Through half-closed eyes, I poured a cup of hot coffee and inhaled. The warm, heavy scent of the mocha java gave me back the will to live. I hesitated before opening the refrigerator door. Hung between the magnets were our two lists.

Chapter 5

“This psych mess ain’t working for me,” Carol managed to get out during one of our twenty-second breaks. Carol and I had been friends since sophomore year Economics 101. I’d even been a bridesmaid at her wedding.

She had a point. We were supposed to be picturing an open road and blue skies. All I saw was the Energizer bunny. The spin class instructor was the size of a string bean and her high-pitched sugar-coated voice got on my last nerve. I didn’t see daybreak from the comfort of my bed that morning. I saw the reflection of sun off another building while walking up the stairs to the second-floor gym.

“Stay with me, people. Almost done!” the instructor shouted.

“Don’t she mean almost dead?” Carol huffed. Her slumped shoulders and sweat-laced forehead mimicked half the room.

I wiped a shaky hand across my neck. Membership. Monday at lunchtime the two of us had rushed out and signed our names to get our gym cards as if they were tickets through the heavenly gate. Except heaven turned out to be a hell called spinning class, weight machines, aerobics and skinny college kids that didn’t weigh ninety pounds soaking wet.

I wasn’t an ex-athlete trying to stay in shape or a woman desperate to lose weight. It was for clothes. I was sitting on this small hard seat with burning thighs for the current occupants of my closet. I wanted to wear them for another year. But all I could imagine as that loud techno music pounded into my brain was that if I pushed hard enough, pedaled long enough, the bike would break loose and I’d roll down Lexington Avenue towards the nearest bagel shop.

Carol and I watched as the class left the room. Most of the beginners were limping out the door.

“I…am…dying,” Carol said as she lifted her feet off the pedals and stood up.

“Before you kick the bucket, we got to do some crunches,” I said through gritted teeth as pain screamed up from my heels to my thighs.

“Do I get to lie down?” Her voice sounded hopeful.

“Oh, yeah.” I sighed, grateful for little things.

“Leah, why are we doing this?” she questioned a little later.

I lay there staring at the ceiling, waiting for my breath to slow down. It was like being in the gynecologist’s office except there were no pictures of the beach to distract you from the pain.

“Because we want to be healthy,” I reminded her. “Not to mention you’ve got that anniversary trip coming up soon.”

“No, why are we lying here doing these painful-ass crunches?”

I hadn’t thought about that one. All I knew was that they were supposed to give me back my waistline. “So we’ll eventually discover the abdominal muscles we’re supposed to have.”

“For you, maybe,” she replied.

I looked over at Carol. She continued, “By the time I get an ab muscle, Charlie, Jr. will magically appear in my stomach.”

“You’re pregnant!” I pulled myself up and stared down at my friend. My eyes went immediately to her stomach.

She sat up and grimaced before turning to sit on the edge of the bench. “Not yet. But mark my words, it’s gonna happen and all those abs I worked so hard for will turn to stretch marks. Shoot, I’ll probably have railroad tracks across my stomach.”

“Carol…”

She picked up her water bottle and took a drink. “I told you Charlie’s been acting strange since we started working out, right?”

Strange? The man had come home before seven p.m. with two dozen roses, had cooked dinner three nights in a row, had taken her to a Broadway play and had invited her parents over for Sunday brunch. Damn it, I’d take her idea of strange any day of the week.

We got up and started walking towards the women’s locker room. “My husband done got paranoid,” Carol continued.

“Charlie?” I raised an eyebrow. “The man is about as laid back as a person can be without being six feet under.”

“You know what he asked me this morning as I dragged myself out of bed to meet you?”

“What?”

“Am I gonna leave him for a personal trainer?” She mimicked her husband’s slow Southern drawl perfectly.

I was laughing so hard I almost ran into the door. “Where did he get that idea?”

“One of his cronies,” she huffed.

I pulled off my sneakers and chuckled, oblivious to the stares I was getting from the other silent occupants in the room.

“Shoot,” Carol continued, “it’s more like he’ll leave me for one of those divorced trial attorneys.”

That sent me into peals of laughter. I sat there clutching my sore stomach. There was a snowball’s chance in hell of him ever leaving her. I’d seen the two of them together. That man would happily drink Carol’s bathwater.

I shook my head and followed a still limping Carol towards the showers. Men. Even the ones with law degrees act stupid.

* * *

Eleven p.m. Thank God tomorrow’s Friday. Unlocking the door to the apartment and quietly slipping inside, I set my gym bag down beside the closet and laid my keys alongside Rena’s on the small side table. I walked into the living room to see my cousin curled up on the sofa holding her head. Lines of tension pulled tight across her brow. I pulled off my shoes and padded across the floor.

Gently, I sat down, maneuvering Rena’s body over so that her head lay in my lap. In the dim light of the room, I could still see the tracks left by dried tears. Her pain-filled groan was a confirmation of my first thought. Migraine. Simba sat at my feet. Normally, the attention-hungry cat would meow and jump into my lap demanding to be petted. Instead he lay down with his tail switching back and forth, staring at Rena with his unblinking eyes.

I placed my fingertips lightly across her temples and kneaded, smoothing her brow. After a few minutes, Rena’s breathing eased and her fingers unclenched.

“Bad day?” I whispered.

“They ambushed me. Told me they wanted my opinion on a new artist.”

“What happened?”

“The fools wanted me to co-manage Nine. They forced me to listen to his entire solo album and read his bio. It read like a prison rap sheet. Then they brought him in.”

Shudders ran through her body. This was bad.

“Leah, he stood in front of me looking like a mother’s worst nightmare come to life and said, ‘Ain’t no tight-assed bitch gonna manage me.’ ” My cousin mimicked the rapper’s voice.

I concentrated on keeping my hands from shaking with anger as I kept massaging her temples.

“What did Michael have to say?” I asked.

“Nothing. He just sat there like a puppet without strings,” she sighed. Her eyes remained closed.

“Do you have to take him on?”

“No. I made sure to put that in my contract. I choose my artists.”

“So what’s got you so stressed out?”

“Michael.”

“What does he have to do with you?” I asked. The senior executive had begged, cajoled, and bribed Rena to move back to NYC. The week after she started the job, Michael left to head the company’s more lucrative hip-hop/rap artists.

“He came to my office an hour after the meeting. I took a good long look at him. What hair he ain’t lost is turning gray. He offered me fifty thousand to help him, Leah. I swear he had tears in his eyes.”

My hands stilled. Fifty thousand. Rena was bringing home a hefty salary, but that kind of money is hard to turn down. “Please tell me you said no.”

Impossible causes were okay but this one was different. From what I’d heard and seen in the papers, Nine was for real. Rap music’s newest poster boy was straight out of the Bronx ghetto, no suburban kid turned street thug. According to
XXL
and
Vibe
, the self-proclaimed leaders of street news, Nine had been in and out of juvenile and prison all his life.

Rena opened her eyes, and in the dimness I could see the pain. “I told him no and he left.”

“Michael just got up and walked out?” I questioned.

“Didn’t say a word,” Rena added.

“Good.” I didn’t really like or trust the man. On more than one occasion he had tried to use me to get to Rena.

“Yeah, I had enough of that back west. I’m not going down that road again. Let someone else save him. Too tired.” Her voice trailed off, heavy with sleep.

I sat in the darkness listening to the sounds of passing cars and the humming of the refrigerator. I’d been in the passenger seat as Rena struggled against her own demons while battling to help brothers who didn’t want to save themselves. Ex-slanging, banging, badass brothers from the hood. All the support and money in the world couldn’t help them. The Lord helps those who help themselves. My only regret was that Rena had found that out the hard way.

“Hey,” she said all of a sudden.

I jumped. “Thought you were asleep.”

“An overnight envelope came for you today. It’s on the coffee table.” She motioned with her hand.

I leaned over and turned on the lamp, then picked up the package. I ripped it open without looking at the return address. When I turned it upside down, two blue and white tickets fell into my right hand.

“What is it?” Rena asked.

“Front row tickets to Sean’s concert at the Garden.” My voice held a hint of disbelief. I hadn’t remembered his promise. “What are we going to do with the ones you bought?”

“Don’t worry,” Rena chuckled weakly. “I already sold them for a tidy profit.”

“But…” I started.

“But what? Sean knows your phone number by heart. Even on a worldwide tour, he’s calling at least three times a week.”

“What does that have to do with you selling the tickets?”

“If you can’t figure it out I’m not telling you. Now why are you home so late?”

Change of subject. I could tell Rena was starting to feel better already.

“Problem at the office. The web servers crashed as we were uploading this week’s content.”

“Isn’t that why you’re a vice-president? You’re supposed to tell people what to do and then leave,” she joked.

“All the articles got wiped out. I stayed to help recreate the pages from our backup documents.”

“Did you eat?” Rena questioned.

“Yes, Mom. We ordered in. Chinese, on the company of course.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to make it to Nina’s album release party tomorrow night?”

“I told you I would.”

“Just checking, you being such an important woman and all.”

“Yeah…yeah. Rub it in, Ms. Record Exec. Why don’t we get to bed? I’m done for the night.”

* * *

It started with Rena’s phone call. I was flipping through the stations and paused on
Oprah
when the telephone rang.

“Hello?”

“You’re home early,” came Rena’s voice over the line.

“It’s Friday.”

“And?”

“The director lets the division go home at four p.m.,” I explained.

“I forgot. I need a favor.”

“What’s up?” I asked, sitting up.

“Can you go to Nina’s party with Traxx?”

I almost dropped the phone as an image of the super handsome soul singer danced before my eyes. “What?” My voice cracked.

“Damon and I need to stay late. We have to finish up a project before Monday and I’m absolutely not coming into the office this weekend. Traxx is new to New York and doesn’t have any real solid connections up here yet.”

“Why me? The man has to beat women off with a stick.” I listened to her laughter as it blended with another’s. Damon, I assumed.

“Leave it to you to ask why. The truth is that you’re the only woman I know that won’t look at the man with either stars, dollar signs, a wedding ring, or a check from a tabloid magazine in her eyes.”

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked, trying to remember if I’d ever heard any gossip about the R&B singer.

“He’s a good guy. Wouldn’t be calling you if he wasn’t. I was supposed to go with him but I won’t be able to get out of here until eleven p.m. at the earliest.”

“Oh.” I chewed my lip. I tried to keep as far away from the entertainment business as possible. Being in the public eye was not one of my career goals.

“Aren’t you the one who said ‘Live life to the fullest?’ ”

Leave it to Rena to remember a drunken New Year’s Eve resolution.

“True,” I reluctantly admitted.

“And I have it on good authority that a certain someone from the UPenn, an ex-Mrs. Lance Phillips, will be making an appearance.”

She knew me too well. “What time do I need to be there?”

“Traxx’ll be driving back from a radio appearance in Philly. He’ll pick you up at about nine-thirty p.m.”

“Wait. How’s he going to pick me up if he doesn’t know the city?” I asked suspiciously.

“Please. My boy travels in style, plus he’s got a navigation system.”

“Good grief.” The lifestyles of the rich and famous.

“Don’t thank me,” she sighed. “Anything for family. Now I gotta jet. See ya tonight.”

I pressed the off button on the phone and sat back on the sofa. Simba took it as an invitation and jumped up into my lap. The semi-overweight cat stared up at me with narrowed eyes. I ran my hands over his fur and patted his back as he meowed before settling down.

“A date. I’ve got a date with the Best New Male Artist of the Year,” I murmured out loud.

The sentence looped over and over in my mind like a refrain. Then I remembered Sherrie. The image conjured by her name wiped away the giddy excitement. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to dredge up the nickname everyone had given Lance’s ex-wife. What was it?
The Queen of Sheba
. And with the answer, I was thrust into the memory of my sophomore year in college.

* * *

“You came. Come on in.” Sherrie’s smile was wide.

Any momentary feeling of ease I had vanished. I wanted to wring Lance’s neck for blackmailing me into coming over to her apartment. She was smiling at me. She wanted something. The woman was pretty. Her unblemished brown sugar complexion, shoulder-length black hair, and almond eyes attracted men like flies.

She waved me inside her apartment. She wore the sweet expression that Lance saw when he looked at her. Her warm, dulcet voice I’d heard before at the ‘get to know’ you meetings and open sorority pledge events.

“Would you like something to eat or drink?”

“No, thank you.” The Philly pizza steak I’d eaten for lunch that afternoon threatened to rise up out of my stomach.