Never Again Once More (6 page)

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Authors: Mary B. Morrison

BOOK: Never Again Once More
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Chapter 6
W
hat did the lonely do at Christmas?
The past four years Jada, Wellington, and Darius had spent Christmas together. One of the six annual times they pretended to be a family, celebrating each of their birthdays, and Mothers’ and Fathers’ Day. But this year was depressing. Once Wellington started dating Simone, Jada stopped making love to him, and that wasn’t because he’d quit trying. Jada couldn’t fathom being the other woman.
Simone’s influence altered their holiday activities one hundred and eighty degrees. None of the stockings Jada had decorated would hang by Wellington’s chimney, including his. Although she didn’t want him, she’d never envisioned him with anyone else. She had imagined that if she remained single, he would, too.
Mama phoned and insisted she and Darius spend the holidays with Robert and her in Oakland. Another time Jada wished she’d followed her first instinct. Paying for a luggage cart at the Oakland International Airport and selecting a rental car from the premier isle were disheartening because until now, every year Wellington had picked them up and carried their bags. If it wasn’t for Darius, Jada would have stayed in Los Angeles.
“Mommy, where’s Daddy?” Darius dragged his red, blue, and green child-sized suitcase with the wheels facing up.
“He made other plans this year, sweetie.” Thanks to Simone. She looked around. Too many happy people were on the plane, at the airport, and at the rental car pickup.
Darius tugged on her knee-length crimson sweater. “Let’s call him!”
“We can call him later, honey.” Jada said as they found their rental car and left the airport. “Mommy has some last-minute shopping to do, and the stores close at six o’clock today. So I’m going to drop you off at Grandma’s.” Jada wasn’t anxious to tackle the task of wrestling with last-minute shoppers who would grab everything she stared at for more than fifteen seconds. Most of the time they didn’t really want the item; they merely wanted first consideration.
“Why do you sound so sad, Mommy? I love you.” Darius’s eyes drooped, and his mouth curved downward as teardrops soaked into the Raiders jacket Robert bought for Darius’s birthday.
Since Darius was in the backseat where his mama had insisted he would ride until the auto dealers made air bags safe enough for children to ride in the front—and couldn’t see her face, Jada changed the inflection in her voice. “Mommy’s not sad,” she lied. “Would you like to see a giant Christmas tree tonight?” Jada beamed with excitement.
“Yes!” Darius’s eyes lit up as he clapped.
Why could a child’s sadness be eradicated in a matter of seconds but not an adult’s? Over development of the billions of brain cells perhaps?
They soon reached Grandma’s house. When Jada opened the door, Darius hopped out and ran up the stairs.
“How’s our big boy?” Mama asked.
“Whatcha feedin’ this rugrat? Miracle growth?” Robert jokingly gave Darius a one-two punch to the ribs and tilted his chin. “Boy, looks like you been crying. Crying is for girls and sissies. Remember that.” Robert straightened his back and asked Darius, “Are you a girl?”
“No! I’m not a girl.” Darius stood like Robert.
“Are you a sissy?” Robert saluted Darius.
“No way!” Darius saluted back.
Mama said, “Robert, don’t go filling Darius’s head with nonsense. Boys have feelings, too.”
“Hi, My Dear! I miss you. I love you.” Darius hugged his grandma’s neck and kissed her cheek. “I brought some cookies for Santa.” He unzipped his suitcase and pulled out a huge bag of gingerbread cookies. “You got milk, My Dear?”
Robert snatched the brown bag. “I got milk, and now I have cookies.”
Darius kept jumping and grabbing, but each time Robert held the bag higher.
“Mama sure is glad y’all came, baby.” Mama embraced Jada and said, “Jazzmyne, Candice, and Terrell are in town. They’re stopping by tomorrow for a little holiday cheer. Can you believe the wonderful weather we’re having this Christmas Eve? Sixty-five degrees. Y’all come in. Robert, give the boy his cookies before they get all crumbled.”
As fast as they had come outside, Mama and Robert must have been sitting at the window, waiting.
Jada thought about her friends, whom she would see tomorrow. Respectfully, Candice had stop divulging their secrets; but four years had gone by, and Terrell still hadn’t married Candice. Every year she set a date, and every time Terrell had an excuse to change it before she mailed the invitations.
“Mama, I’m going to the mall. I’ll be back.”
“Okay, baby. We’ll wait ’til you get back before we eat dinner.”
Darius ran inside with his cookies. Mama and Robert followed.
Everything Jada wanted to purchase at the San Francisco FAO Schwartz—one of the world’s largest toy stores, standing four stories high—was either sold out or the lines were too long. Deviating from her list, Jada shopped at Embarcadero Centers One, Two, and Three for presents. Jada found the perfect gift for Wellington, a crystal heart with a two-by-two glass mirror so whenever he looked at her heart, he could also see his heart. Straight, gay, and lesbian lovers cheerfully strolled along Market, Powell, and Embarcadero Streets, clinging to one another as Jada wrestled with the oversized packages. Children dressed in black and white with red ribbons and bow ties merrily sang carols while spectators gathered and listened, another group for Jada to maneuver around.
After tossing the neatly wrapped boxes on the backseat, Jada hurried to her mom’s house to pick up Darius before sunset.
“What’d you do? Buy up the store?” Robert asked, taking several gifts.
“Of course not. Where’s Darius?” Before Robert answered, Jada yelled, “Darius, honey, let’s go!”
Darius came running with his black-and-silver jacket in hand.
“Mama, we’ll be back in an hour. I promised Darius I’d take him to see the Christmas tree.”
“One more hour won’t hurt me, but Robert needs to eat a little something now,” Mama said.
Darius pulled Jada’s hand until they were out of the house. As they drove, he shared how his My Dear let him bake a cake and how it had sunk in the middle because he kept opening the oven door. Parking in Jack London Square’s garage, Jada realized she was so preoccupied with her own thoughts, she hadn’t listened very well to Darius. The giant tree near Barnes and Noble Bookstore stood so high all Darius said was, “Wow!” Then he raced, circling the pine branches until he was breathless. Catching his second wind, Darius pointed and said, “Mommy, look, there’s Daddy.”
Darius scurried over to Wellington and whom Jada presumed to be Simone. Wellington was giving the valet attendant in front of Scott’s Restaurant a claim check for his car.
Jada’s body felt weaker than it had the day she gave birth to Darius. This was the first time she’d seen Wellington with a date.
Oh, no, he was not bringing her over.
Divas didn’t duck, dodge, run, or hide, so Jada instantly masked a phony smile.
Extending her hand, Jada said, “Darius, honey. Come to Mommy.”
When Wellington embraced Jada, she lovingly rubbed her hand up and down the back of his trench coat. She even held on a little longer than usual. “It’s so good to see you. Darius asked about you earlier.”
Wellington nervously stepped back and said, “Jada, this is Simone Smith. Simone, this is Jada.”
Introduction of the last name was a dead giveaway. Good. Wellington had no intentions of marrying Simone. She was cute and all, but it wouldn’t hurt her to shed fifty pounds or more. What did Wellington see in Simone?
“Hi.” Jada gave her best Colgate smile and extended her hand.
Simone stared at Jada from head to feet and back to her face, then said, “Ba, we’d better get going. I haven’t given you your surprise yet.” Simone slipped her arm inside Wellington’s and turned away.
No she did not just call him ba!
“Yeah.” Wellington bit his bottom lip, and puckered a kiss at Jada. Then he turned to Darius and said, “Daddy will see you tomorrow morning, fella. Take care of your mommy for me.”
“Okay, Daddy. Love you,” Darius said.
Wellington smiled at Darius, “I love you, too, son.”
Whistling like Grandpa Robert had taught him, Darius spread his arms like a bird as he glided back to the tree.
Wellington looked at Jada and mouthed, “I love you, ba.”
Oh, no. She was not going to be the joke of the day. Jada responded, “I love you, too,” loud enough for Simone to know Jada could easily take Wellington away from her if she wanted. For the first time Jada realized she didn’t have an endearing name for Wellington. As Simone turned around, Jada walked away. Her breath short-circuited like one of the bulbs on the pine tree, but who had noticed? Who cared? Ol’ Saint Nick had dumped twelve tons of coal in her heart.
Chapter 7
A
night plagued by insomnia and filled with sex left Wellington restless. Unlike Jada, Simone constantly tossed and turned in her sleep. Maybe she was still upset about him saying, “I love you, ba,” to Jada. He’d never make that inconsiderate mistake again. Wellington gave up on tugging the king-sized covers, slipped into his pajamas, and made his way to Simone’s couch. It was three o’clock in the morning. If he masturbated, that would knock him out for sure. After rubbing and stroking for ten minutes, he realized Simone had extracted all of his sap. The next four hours the flat-screen television watched him while he gazed at the ceiling, counting backward from a thousand and creating stock portfolios in his head.
Making his way to the shower, Wellington tiptoed, trying not to awaken Simone. The steamy water relaxed his muscles so much he wanted to tuck himself inside the comforter as if it were a sleeping blanket and take a nap, but there wasn’t enough time. He’d promised to pick up his son early, and knowing Darius, he’d already opened all of his toys and was ready to go. Jada had probably stuffed the ripped Christmas paper and tattered boxes into hefty trash bags. In the midst of putting on his brown knee-length socks, Wellington stopped, retreated to Simone’s guest bedroom, and closed the door.
As a family in the eyes of God, the last three years Wellington had led the prayer on Christmas morning reaffirming for Darius the true meaning. This year he knelt alone and prayed as if they were together. “Oh, Heavenly Father, we give praise to You on Your birthday. We thank You for Your many blessings throughout the year and especially today. Thanks for keeping us healthy and safe as we realize many families are mourning the loss of their loved ones. We ask that You let not their hearts be troubled. In light of the holiday spirit, Lord, our family gave generously to the Battered Women’s Organization. We pray the season will be joyous for them. Please, Lord, bless them with the courage to love themselves, as You love them. Before we open our gifts, we pray that You open our minds and hearts with appreciation for each card and every present. Amen.”
Wellington felt strange as he stood. He was full of praise, but the void in his heart could be filled by only one woman. Simone was still asleep, so he slipped on his brown slacks and his tan tapered—but not too tight—long-sleeved sweater that vaguely outlined his biceps, chest, and abs. He picked up his keys and headed to Jada’s mother’s house. When Jada opened the door, Wellington expected the heartbeat in his chest to drop below his waist. Instead, his heart skipped a beat.
Every Christmas since they had met, Jada had changed stunning outfits at least three times Christmas Day. Last year, nighttime was his favorite because they had dressed up for each other, danced under the moonlight on his patio, and then skinny-dipped in his heated pool.
Today her eyes were noticeably red and puffy. Her silky strands of hair were uncombed and tangled together. The only time he’d seen her in pajamas was when she wore his top with her legs exposed, or his bottoms, showcasing her beautiful breasts.
“Hey, come on in. Darius has been waiting for you.” Jada closed the door and walked to the rear. The red-and-blue plaid pajamas were too big and too wrinkled.
Darius raced by, bumping into Jada. “Hey! Daddy is here!” Boing. Boing. He jumped as if he were on a pogo stick.
“Hey, son! Looks like Santa’s elves worked overtime this year.” He hugged and kissed Darius, then peeped to see if Jada was coming back. Instead, Wellington saw Robert.
“What’s up, Homey? Merry Christmas. Jada give you your gifts?”
Flatly, Wellington answered, “Naw, not yet.”
“Well, we can take care of that,” Robert said as the white ball of his Santa’s cap bounced off of his right ear. “Have a sit-down.”
“Merry Christmas, Wellington,” Mrs. Tanner said, handing him the packages. She was cordial but didn’t say much to him this year, and she didn’t call him son.
Wellington glanced at his watch, wondering if Simone had called, since he’d conveniently turned off his phone. “Wow, four presents.”
“Open mine first, Daddy.” Darius shoved the decorated box in his lap and sat at his feet.
Unraveling the package, Wellington looked toward the back of the room again. “Hey, just what I wanted. A remote control car.”
“Yep, just like mine!” Darius scooted to his remote and said, “Put your car on the floor, Daddy. Let’s race!” Darius’s car flipped over Wellington’s and kept rolling.
Wellington also received another nice sweater from Mrs. Tanner, a Raiders cap and scarf from Robert, and a crystal heart with a two-by-two inch square mirror plate from Jada. He knew Jada had an explanation he probably wouldn’t get. “It’s almost ten; we’d better get going. Darius, put on your jacket. Go give your mom a kiss for me and tell her you’ll be back by six.”
“Okay, Daddy.” Darius zipped and came back. “I’m ready!”
No return message from Jada. Why did Wellington feel as if he’d done something wrong? Wellington cruised back to Simone’s place.
“Daddy, where were you this morning?” Darius asked.
Wellington looked in his rearview mirror. “Stop kicking the back of the seat. I was at Simone’s, son.” Darius handsomely wore the blue fleece outfit Wellington had given him before Christmas.
“Is Simone and Mommy friends?”
“No, son. They’re not.”
Darius kicked the seat again, then stopped. “Daddy, what’s a home wrecker?”
“Whoa, you’re too young for that conversation, fella.”
“Do you still love Mommy?”
“Of course I do.” Wellington turned and glimpsed at Darius.
Darius leaned forward. “Do you still love me?”
“What kind of question is that? I will always love you.” Wellington looked at his son again.
Darius sat back and asked with teary eyes, “Did I do something wrong, Daddy?”
“I don’t know. Did you?” Wellington’s forehead wrinkled as he exited Interstate 680 into Danville.
“I think I made Mommy sad, because when I walk into the room, her eyes don’t light up no more.”
Wellington took a deep breath and pulled into the nearest gas station. He sat in the back of his four-by-four with Darius. “Mommy just has a lot on her mind, and it has nothing to do with you.” Taking his time, Wellington talked and listened intently, giving Darius his undivided attention.
“I’m holding in my tears because Grandpa Robert said crying is for sissies and girls.” Darius blinked repeatedly.
“Son, there’s a big difference between crying and being a crybaby. Everybody’s got to cry. And it’s okay to cry sometimes; just don’t cry all the time.” Once Wellington had answered all of Darius’s questions, he dried Darius’s eyes and changed the subject before he became emotional, too. “Let me see your muscle pose,” he said as he returned to the driver’s seat.
Darius grunted, balled up his fists, and threw up his arms.
“That’s my boy.” Wellington drove off and said, “You’re going to need that strength to open the rest of your presents.” Simone had gone overboard with buying gifts for Darius. Even Simone’s mother agreed.
When they arrived at Simone’s house, Darius ran inside and slid under the tree, almost tipping it over.
“Well, hello, Darius. Merry Christmas.” Simone poured hot chocolate into mugs with real bells strung on the stained-glass candy cane handles. “Go ahead. They’re all yours.” Simone sat about six feet to Darius’s right and snapped pictures with her computerized digital camera.
“Wow!” Darius unwrapped a hand-held video game, stuffed animals, an identical remote control car to the one Santa gave him, a helmet for which Simone had bought a bike and inline skates, and more. . . .
“Next year invest some of that money in stocks for him,” Wellington said.
“That’s your job, Mr. Investor. I work for the phone company, remember. I just want Darius to have fun. Don’t you think we should have one of our own?” Simone’s eyes became hazy.
“I already have stocks.” He knew where Simone was going, but Wellington wasn’t ready for another baby. But one day he’d love to have a precious little girl. And if a guy ever broke her heart, he’d have to answer to him.
“I mean a child,” Simone said, picking up the mugs.
“Oh, let’s wait a while,” Wellington insisted.
“Darius, wouldn’t you like to have a baby brother or sister next Christmas?” Simone asked.
Darius focused on his hand-held computer. “No girls. And only if Santa brings my baby brother his own toys.”
Wellington laughed.
“Well, think about it.” Simone brushed her black velvet pants against Wellington’s shoulder as she carried the empty cups into the kitchen.
“And don’t try to sneak one in on me.” Wellington stood, stretched, and yawned.
Simone yelled from the kitchen, “I am not Melanie or Jada. I’ve already told you what you need to do.”
“Don’t mention that in front of my son, Simone.” Wellington stood, walked into the kitchen, and stopped directly behind Simone. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezed her breasts, gently kissed the nape of her neck and said, “You’re my baby. And if you really want a child, let’s start making plans.”
Simone faced Wellington and pressed her lips against his. Her eyes brightened then shifted focusing on his left eye then his right and back again like she had just received the best Christmas present of her kife. “I love you Wellington Jones.” She rested her head on his chest.
Wrong choice of words. Wellington instantly thought of when Jada used to speak those words to him. He slapped Simone on her butt. “Yeah, I know. Look, I’m going to take Darius to the park and teach him to ride his bike.”
“Well, am I not invited?” Simone asked placing the clean mugs in the cabinet.
“Don’t take it personal. I need to spend some quality time with my son.”
Simone raised her eyebrows.
Wellington squinted and said, “He
is
my son, Simone.” He returned to the living room. “Son, get your jacket and your helmet. Daddy’s going to teach you how to ride your bike.”
“Yes!” Darius dropped the remote to his car in the middle of the floor.
Pointing at the object Wellington said, “Oh, no you don’t buddy.”
Darius placed the controller under the Christmas tree beside the car and raced outside. Looking back at Simone, Wellington easily lifted Darius’s bike with one hand and said, “I’ll call you later.” Then he walked out of Simone’s front door.
After three hours at the park and two more hours at the restaurant, Darius slept all the way home.
Wellington carried Darius to the door. Simone needed to leave that paternity test nonsense alone or she was going to find herself alone.
“Can’t hang, huh. I’ll take him,” Robert said, laughing.
“It’s okay, I can carry him.” Maybe Wellington would have a chance to speak with Jada.
“Jada’s not here, man. Ruby took her out. Said she needed some fresh air. But they should be back soon. You can wait a while if you’d like.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I just wanted to know how she liked my gift,” Wellington lied, handing his son to Robert.
“You mean the last one under the tree. Unless she has X-ray vision, I’d say she doesn’t know yet.” Robert laid Darius’s head on his shoulder.
Wellington nodded and walked away. “That’s cool. Merry Christmas, man.”
The Whispers’ voices resonated through his surround-sound auto speakers as Wellington drove home. “People really need one another: man, woman, boy, girl, sister, and brother . . .” A year ago after their dip in the pool, he had been cuddled in front his fireplace with Jada listening to their favorite holiday song by The Stylistics, “When You’ve Got Love, It’s Christmas All Year Long.” This year didn’t feel like Christmas at all.

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