Vengeance (29 page)

I held my palm up toward him. “Just one more minute.”

“Who’s up there?” I asked Momma, pointing at the ceiling.

“Donald, and Momma, and Elvis, and Abraham Lincoln, and Martin Luther, and Jesus.” She looked at me. “Don’t you hear Jesus?”

Marcella motioned to me that we should go.

“You promise you’ll get her out of here tomorrow?” I asked Daddy.

“I promise.”

I stood up. “Momma, I have to go now. You take care of yourself.”

“You should’ve kept the scar. Now you have nothing to protect you.” Momma let out a soft hiss. “They’re going to hurt you. You’re too pretty.”

“Actually, they hurt me even though I had the scar,” I informed her. “But I’m never going to let anyone else hurt me.”

A grimace appeared on Momma’s face. “Never say never, Caprice.”

I fought back tears as I watched Momma sitting there, looking sickly and pitiful. It suddenly hit me, even though I knew it all along: she was a victim of her circumstances exactly like me. Except she was locked up in an institution and I was one of the greatest, biggest, and wealthiest entertainers in the world. She had definitely gotten the shorter end of the stick.

I walked around the table and touched her on the shoulder. “Good-bye, Momma.”

She grabbed my hand and clutched it tight. Then she gazed up into my eyes. “Good friends never say good-bye. They simply say see you soon.”

Daddy tapped on the door and the male nurse appeared within seconds to let us out.

As we were exiting, he told the nurse, “Tell Dr. Broadmore that I need to speak with him . . .
today
.”

“Is everything all right, sir?” the nurse asked.

“No, it’s not, but I’ll discuss it with him.”

Marcella forced a smile toward the nurse, took one last look at Momma’s back, and walked out after Daddy. I hesitated. Part of me wanted to rush over and throw my arms around her and break down. She was my mother, and as a child, like so many children who are abused, I loved her no matter what. I still
loved
her, even though I had tried to pretend that I hated her the majority of my life.

I told Daddy that I wanted to catch a ride home with Marcella. It was still only about eight o’clock on a Sunday morning, so I doubted that anyone would see us together. Even if they did, so what? I was entitled to have a life and friends.

I settled into the passenger side of her BMW X3.

She didn’t immediately pull off. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I readily admitted.

“Tell me what you’re feeling, right at this moment.”

“I’m not altogether sure that I can.” I clutched my hands together to try to keep myself from trembling. “I’m still taking it all in.”

“Let me turn on a little heat,” Marcella said, and put the vent on low. “Take your time, Caprice. I’m sure that was a traumatic experience for you, seeing your mother for the first time since she disfigured you.”

“Did you hear what she said about opening myself up to be hurt now that the scar is gone?”

“Yes.”

“Funny, huh?”

“Nothing funny about any of this.”

“True, but I’m trying to ward off my tears.”

“You can only do that but so long.”

“She recognized me right away.”

“That actually didn’t surprise me. There have been instances where mothers have been separated from their children for fifty or sixty years and their maternal instincts still kick in.”

“But Momma’s insane!”

“Your mother has some serious mental disorders, but she’s not clinically insane.”

“Really?”

Marcella nodded. “If she was insane, she would’ve been in a straitjacket in a rubber room. Insanity is a state of madness. Your mother knows where she is and she knows what she did. She also knows what she’s been through.”

“But what about her saying that she was hearing people?”

“That’s her schizophrenia. But that didn’t stop her from remembering that she cut you.”

“I can’t believe that I feel sorry for her. She did this to me. All of this was her fault and—”

“It’s
partially
her fault, but this all stems back to someone you can never get revenge on: your uncle. He destroyed your mother’s life, probably your grandmother’s life and well, and your life.”

“I wish I could get my fucking hands on him! I’d wring his neck!” I stated vehemently.

“Well, you can’t . . . get your hands on him. Caprice, it’s time for you to try to let all of this go. You’re taking your medication and that’s a good thing, but this entire concept of retaliating against your classmates is consuming your entire life at this point. Have you even finished your album? You’ve been working on it for months.”

“I’m almost done. Just one more song left.”

“And how long has there been just one more song left?”

I sighed. “Too long.”

“Your father told me he’s taking you back to New York.”

I looked at her. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“It’s the
only
idea that makes sense. If you want, I can come there once a month, or we can do weekly sessions over the phone. I feel like we’ve made a connection, and you expressed that you’ve had issues being comfortable with therapists in the past.”

“Maybe you can meet me in some of my tour cities? I’ll cover all the expenses and your fees, of course. I’m trying to stop, you know, that stuff.”

“Good. Everything has its time and place, but participating in all of that is not going to help you eventually connect to any men intimately.”

“You’re right.” I paused. “What about Jonovan, though?”

She shrugged. “You have a dilemma, one that I anticipated would come up. How much have you told him?”

“Depends on if we are talking about lies or the truth.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell him that you’re Caprice Tatum?”

Marcella finally put the SUV in gear and pulled out of the lot as we continued talking.

I shook my head. “I don’t see how
anything
positive can come from that. And there’s a trust factor. I can’t risk him telling someone else. Caprice is dead. She died in 1987 and she’s not coming back. Nor do I want her to come back. It’s hard enough being Ladonna and Wicket.”

“I understand. You’re going to have to either get some closure with him before you leave, or figure out if you want to take it further.”

“I’m leaving and he has his father. He can’t uproot him like that, and we’re not even at that point yet.”

“I’m not sure what to tell you about trying to take on a serious relationship right now. I’m honestly on the fence. You deserve to be loved, but we still need to work on loving yourself. On the other hand, Jonovan might be able to make you want to do that very thing.”

“Then I guess I need to discuss it with him.”

“We’re both on the same page with that one.”

We rode in silence the rest of the way. Marcella must have realized that I needed to do some serious thinking, and that’s exactly what I did.

Friday, February 8, 2013

8:36 p.m.

Miami, Florida

H
ere we go,” I said as I cut the ribbon in front of Wicket’s Thicket for the grand opening. All the who’s who of Miami were there, along with a lot of New York– and Los Angeles–based celebrities. I wouldn’t call any of them my friends; I would say that I was friendly with them. “Welcome to Wicket’s Thicket Miami!”

I had tagged the Miami part on because I already had plans to make it a chain. In fact, Daddy and I had either broken ground or started renovating buildings in Chicago, Los Angeles, and Las Vegas already. No Atlanta for obvious reasons.

Jonovan was standing right by my side. I had decided that I simply couldn’t walk away from him. He meant too much to me, and he’d made it clear that I also meant too much to him. The grand opening was an opportunity to introduce him to a lot of people he could interview for
G-Clef
. An intro from me went a long way in convincing people to grant him interviews.

There was a level of comfort for me with Jonovan from the start. Before there was ever a Wicket, or even a Ladonna, Jonovan had genuinely cared for Caprice. No, we had never hooked up, but he had been my friend. Even though I was far from an expert at relationships—never had a bona fide one—it was embedded in my thought process that your soul mate should also be your best friend. Someone you feel like you can discuss anything with, without believing that they will judge you or throw things back up into your face later on. That was the one true danger of relationships, the way that I saw it. Not being cheated on. Not being ripped off for money. Not being manipulated. The true danger was the possibility of your pillow talk being exposed if things didn’t work out.

Before I left for New York that prior November, I had gone to speak with Jonovan. I went over to his house and asked him to come out onto the porch for a moment. I didn’t want to drag the conversation out. It was going to be difficult enough. It turned into a life-changing experience that I never saw coming.

“You sure you don’t want to come in?” he asked, pointing at the door. “I was about to make a pot of hot chocolate.”

“Wow, I haven’t had hot chocolate since I was kid.” I shook my head and put my hands in the pockets of my fleece jacket to keep them warm. “But, no, thank you. I can’t stay long.”

He looked around and noticed the CLS550 in the driveway, empty of other people. “No bodyguards? I’m impressed. Usually, they linger outside my house like the secret service when you’re here.”

“I insisted that I do this alone.”

Jonovan looked concerned. “Do what alone?”

I took a deep breath. “Everyone’s back at the house . . . packing.”

“Oh, you’re taking a trip? Concert or something?”

“My tour starts right after the New Year.”

“So where are you headed?”

I lowered my eyes to avoid his. “There’s no easy way to say this, and you might not even care, but I’m moving back to New York.”

I kept my eyes down, but I could see him cross his arms and lean against the doorframe from my peripheral vision. “I see.”

We were both quiet for a long pause.

“I realize it’s sudden.” I gazed up into his eyes. “But I hope this doesn’t mean that we can’t still get to know each other better.”

“And how are we supposed to do that?”

I shrugged. “I’ll be honest. I don’t think that I’ll be coming back here. Atlanta isn’t for me.”

“Why isn’t Atlanta for you?”

I didn’t have any response that would make sense and, for the first time, a lie didn’t formulate in my head at the speed of lightning.

He sighed. “Well, I guess it just is what it is. If you feel you need to go, then there’s nothing I can do to stop you. I’m not sure how often I can travel, with Dad being sick and all. I definitely can’t do it much.”

“What if I could get someone to be here full-time, so you can come see me?”

I was sure that I had a pitiful look in my eyes by that point.

“It’s not only about having someone else here. I have someone here most of the time. You know that. It’s about leaving my father. My worst nightmare is his needing me and my not being here for him.”

As soon as Jonovan said that, I completely understood. I used to avoid spending a single night away from Grandma when she was sick. That was the other thing that I had ended up discussing with Marcella once we got back to my house. I had carried the guilt of leaving Grandma after being raped for my entire life. Writing her letters with no return addresses was not enough, and an excuse to avoid telling her the truth. I’d often wondered what she would have done if she had known. That was a question that would forever go unanswered, like so many others. I wished that I could’ve asked her if my mother was also my sister. Being truthful to myself, I had always believed Momma. I believed that my uncle had also raped his own sister and impregnated her with my mother. She really had no reason to make any of that up, and I was sure that it had been grounded in some kind of fact.

“I understand,” I said. “Well, then I guess I’ll see you soon.” I remembered what Momma had said about saying good-bye.

I was about to leave when Jonovan grabbed my arm. “I want you to know that your past is safe with me. I’ll never tell a soul.”

“I know,” I said, turning to face him. “You’ve kept your promise since our interview. I appreciate that.”

He gazed deep into my eyes. “That’s not the past I’m referring to. I had always hoped you’d come back one day. I was so worried about you.”

I gasped. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I should really get going. I’ll call you.”

Jonovan grabbed my hand and held it tight. “I don’t blame you for trying to get them back. At first, I wasn’t sure, but there were way too many coincidences. Way too many negative things falling upon people right after you came here.”

I didn’t deny anything, but I didn’t admit to anything, either.

“I’m totally confused,” I replied. “You’re talking foolish.”

“If you say so.” He let my hand go. “Like I said, I’m glad you came back, even if you’re about to run again. But please don’t run from me. At least keep in touch and let me know that you’re alive. Before . . . it was so hard. The not knowing.”

I wondered how long it had been since he’d figured it out. So he was playing a game of deception with me while I was playing a game of deception with him.
What a fucked-up relationship!

“We don’t ever have to discuss it, Caprice. I only wanted you to know that I’m aware; I don’t care. Well, I take that back. I do care; I always have. But nothing you’ve been through makes you any less of a woman to me. In fact, it makes you more of one.”

A tear fell on my right cheek and I wrote it away quickly. “Please don’t say that name again.”

“I won’t, if you so wish. But I need to tell you one other thing. I love you, Wicket . . . Ladonna . . . or whomever you choose to be tomorrow. I love you and I want to make this work. Please don’t leave me.”

“There’s too much pain here.”

“And an incredible amount of love.”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” I whispered. “Bad things.”