When You Fall... (3 page)

“Look,” she said, moving her arm at the row of books standing on her bookshelf.
“How to Find Your Soul Mate,”
she said, holding up a book she’d randomly chosen from the shelf before dropping it to the floor.

She picked up another one. “
Men Are From One Solar System, Women From Another
, and from this, I’ve learned that men think very differently from women. Really? I spent $25.99 less the store discount to learn that!” she said, dropping it to the floor to join the other one.

None of her friends spoke. They just listened, entranced, watching as she reached for another book. “
Harnessing the Power Within to Find That Special One.
This one’s about the power of my vision because whatever I see in my psyche, the world or the universe opens up to that vision, which is, in case you didn’t know it, a tall African American male—athletic, wealthy, or at least middle-class,” she said, taking another slurp from her bottle before picking up another book. “I’m still waiting for him to show up. Let’s see,
Inside the Minds of Men—Where Every Woman Wants to Be
,” she announced, dropping that one to the floor, too.

“Here’s a winner,
Bros and The Hos That Love Them
,” she continued, “I kind of liked that one. Who knew, all you need to do is be a ho in the bedroom and a good Christian woman everywhere else,” she said, dropping it to the floor to join the other in the growing pile at her feet.

Ten minutes and twelve books later, she stopped. Her girls had watched and listened as she’d covered the contents of each book, summing up what each one offered by way of advice, as if she’d memorized each item, which it appeared, she had.

“So as you can see,” she said, stopping to take another sip of wine and crossing her legs Indian-style to sit on the floor next to her pile of books, “I’ve done it all, and here I sit, without one—breaking up the wedding of the one good man I knew,” she said.

“How many ways do I have to say this? Love doesn’t work like that. I didn’t meet Michael that way. One has to be open,” Sandra said.

“Don’t tell me to be open. I am open. And what does that mean anyway? Be open. Is that like wearing a sign, ‘Open for Business’ as I smile at every man I see?’”

“Carter,” Gwen said, in the tone she’d reserved for children-trying-the-adults patience. Carter ignored her.

“I received Bentley’s wedding invitation in the mail and I thought, why did I ever let him go? What was I thinking? He was a really good one. He was your best chance at one. Then he said what he said at the bachelor party and he looked so fine that night. He may have said the rest, but all I heard was the I-want-you-back part. So I went to get him.”

“What did he say?” Gwen asked. Carter shook her head. Gwen sighed.

“He belonged to someone else,” Sandra said.

“Yes, that’s true. But people take from each other all the time, right?” Carter asked, looking around at her friends’ faces.

“Finding a man is not something that can be put on a timetable,” Gwen said.

“And why not?”

“You can’t look for it. You have to wait for it to find you.”

“There you go again, sounding like a Hallmark greeting card,” Carter responded with a humorless laugh.

“Carter,” Gwen said.

It was quiet for a minute or two.

“Thank you all for coming with me. I’m sorry I put you in the situation I did today at the church,” Carter said, looking at each of them now, tired of talking about it. “I knew if I told you what I planned to do, you wouldn’t have come.”

“Yes, we would have. However, we would have parked closer to the front door, and chosen a pew near the back of the church, and at the end of the row. Prepared for a quick getaway. Girl, did you see some of those bridesmaids? That tall one in the front, I believe she may have been a linebacker in another life! She could whip all of your you-know-whats,” Sandra said, observing her no cussing rule.

“Just look at the time,” Gwen said, standing up abruptly, looking down at her wrist, mimicking Carter’s antics at the church. She joined Frankie and Sandra in their laughter now, looking over at Carter. “You are too much,” Gwen said, laughing.

“Did I have to be off my meds
and
seeing a psychiatrist?” Carter asked.

“It was the best I could do given the short notice,” Sandra said.

“And you weren’t much better with your taking me back to the institution,” Carter said, passing a glare off to Gwen.

“Hey, drastic times call for drastic measures,” Gwen answered, smiling.

“You all should have seen how all of you looked almost running down the aisle,” Frankie said, amid the guffaws and loud chuckles of Gwen and Sandra. They spent another ten minutes recounting the morning’s events before their laughter subsided.

“What do you think happens next?” Carter tentatively asked.

“I don’t know. Hopefully nothing,” Gwen said.

“I don’t think attempting to break up a wedding is a crime, so you should be safe from the police knocking on your door. I hope so, anyway,” Frankie said.

“That’s not very comforting,” Carter replied.

“You should probably expect to see yourself on YouTube,” Sandra said, watching as the very notion of an amateur video surfacing settled on everyone’s face, putting a damper on the mood, returning it to its earlier somber state.

“Hopefully it won’t get much attention,” Sandra added.

“Maybe,” Carter said. “Hopefully.” But she’d forgotten about the possibility that it might not be as easy as she thought to put this behind her. This was a big small town.

Her girls stayed with her for a while longer, just to assure themselves and each other that she would be okay. Carter was fairly tough, but who really knows another person’s mental state. Today was a prime example of that. Who would have thought she’d try to break up a wedding.

“You going to be okay?” Frankie asked from the doorway. She, Gwen, and Sandra were preparing to leave.

“I’m going to bury my head in the sand for a while, maybe come out for work on Monday if the coast is clear. I’m turning off my cell for a day or so,” she said, looking down at it, noting the number of calls she’d received already from her father and sisters. They must have gotten the word—that small big town thing again.

“Okay, well we’re out of here. Remember, we are only a text away,” they reminded Carter, each giving her a hug before stepping back into the sun, which had somehow managed to remain shining in spite of the day’s events.

#

Carter closed the door behind them and finished off the last of her wine, tugged the zipper on her dress and let it fall to the floor. She went in search of a t-shirt, and then straight to bed. She was tired. Last night had been exhausting. After her call to Frankie, she’d been unable to sleep, reminiscing about the good times she’d had with Bentley, and it had led her to this crazy decision to break up his wedding. Yeah, she had lost it. She was in complete agreement with her friends. She pulled back the covers of her bed and slid in, pulling them over her head.

A tear escaped. She brushed it away. No point in crying now. A man, this unending quest for a man, the final piece to make her life perfect. Her father would accept her then, maybe even love her. Her life would be perfect then. She would join her stepsisters in providing him with things to be proud of, the last successful girl in his long line of successful children. No more head-in-the-clouds Carter. Pay attention, Carter. Focus, Carter. Be more like your sisters, Carter.

And then there was Bentley, who would have been perfect. She should have placed her dreams on the back burner for him. Those dreams were now miles away from her, anyway. Another tear escaped. Was there ever a more perfect match for her? The only reason she had tried this one crazy shot was that she realized too late what she’d let go. He knew her. He got her… and she wasn’t easy to get. They’d been friends first. He should have been hers and not LaShondra’s. She sighed, closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

#

Monday evening

Rafael sat in front of his computer on his desk—okay, the kitchen table. The expenses for the new irrigation system he’d recently installed were laid out before him. It had run a little over his budget and he was going to have to cut back someplace else, which could prove tough. He ran leaner than lean as it was.

“You have got to see this,” Danielle said, walking up to him and pushing his laptop aside while placing hers in front of his face. He wished she wouldn’t do that. He was working. Did he ever do that when she was messing with her hair or painting her toes? Just shove his computer in her face when she was just about to slap on a layer of toenail paint?

“I wasn’t working on anything important,” he said, tamping down the irritation of having someone interrupt his work.

“It can keep. It’s just farm stuff anyways. You are forever working on that,” she said, hitting the play button on the must-see YouTube video of the week. He checked the title.
Crazy Carter
, it read. He sat back and watched as what must have been Crazy Carter, an African American woman, standing up, her hand raised, attempting to interrupt a wedding—a very large wedding.

She was pretty, her hair falling softly around her face. Nice figure. Not as tall as he preferred, but nice legs under the short skirt of something white and swirly, which could have been her wedding dress, and given the situation, he guessed that had been her plan.

His gazed moved to check out the others in the video. The bride and the bridesmaids’ reactions were priceless. Shock turned quickly into I’m-about-to-kick-some-ass-up-in-here, causing him to chuckle. It look liked the bride was just about to handle her business, and he couldn’t argue with that. Hopefully it would serve as warning to other potential disrupters and curtail any future wedding break-up ideas.

He would have been pissed if someone had tried something like that with him, and would not have been nearly as gentlemanly as the groom had been.

He laughed as he watched Crazy Carter’s reaction to the groom’s words and smiled as she sat down, then popped back up out of her seat, a few seconds later. He laughed outright at her
Look at the time
comment. She
was
crazy.

Fortunately, she had some good friends, who looked like they had her back as they worked to extract her from a potentially dangerous situation. He thought it was funny of her friends to act like she was crazy, which really, you kind of had to be to break up someone’s wedding.

“Isn’t it hilarious?” Danielle asked, looking at Rafael. “It’s had close to 100,000 hits since Saturday.

“Yep. Very funny,” he said, but not enough of a reason to interrupt him, he thought. He answered her anyway, hoping to end video night, wanting Danielle to go back to painting her toes or whatever she had planned for herself.

Nope. Finishing his budget was not to be, as Danielle pulled up another video. This one was from the bridesmaids. It seems they had created a song, complete with dance moves in order to pass along a few choice words to this Crazy Carter if she happened to view it. They told her how lucky she’d been to escape them.

“Can you imagine if she hadn’t gotten away?” Danielle mused. “I wouldn’t want to encounter
that
group.”

“Nope, me neither,” he said, hoping they were done now? He was eager to get back to his work.

Not yet. Danielle had a few more videos for him to view. “Look at this one, made by the bride after the wedding,” she said. It was similar to the one that the bridesmaids had made, but with a little bit about how happily married she was with Bentley—the future NFL Hall of Famer.

“Here’s another one,” she said. He checked his watch.

“You’ve got time,” Danielle said, catching him. The next set of videos were all of the copycat variety—re-enactments of the wedding—each with their homegrown cast and crew. Someone had even created a Crazy Carter Facebook fan page, which Danielle had taken him to. Some of the remarks were mean, some were funny, and some were just plain weird. Apparently, people did not have other things to do with their time he thought. He sure as shit did.

“I’m glad I’m not her, although I do feel sorry for her,” Danielle said, looking at him. There was a different look in her eyes now. “I can understand women like her. She had to have been desperate. A person would
have
to be desperate to do this,” she said, still watching him. He couldn’t understand why she kept staring at him so intently.

“You know, it’s hard for them to find men,” she said, causing Rafael to look up.

“Who?” He said.

“Black girls, black women,” she said, looking at him, serious as a heart attack. “You hear it on the TV and on the web all the time—46 percent of them are not married, and don’t have a chance to be, compared to 23 percent of white women. Not to mention all of those single female-led households. Seventy percent I think it is,” she said.

“Didn’t know that,” he said.

She removed her laptop and he pulled his toward him, hitting the button to wake it up.

“You coming to bed soon?” she said, turning to leave him alone.

“In a little bit. I need to finish this,” he said and watched her leave, thinking that she would have to go, and soon. Yes, she met the basic requirements of his list, but he needed to add one new characteristic—limited talk when you didn’t have much to talk about. He didn’t think he could put up with a lifetime of listening to her chatter.

Wednesday afternoon

Carter sat in her cubicle at work, watching again and then again the YouTube video of herself, for what seemed like the fiftieth time.
Crazy Carter
, it had been aptly named. Talk about blowing up in your face. This definitely had, and the whole world got to witness her meltdown; there was no going back from that.

What had she been thinking? Apparently she hadn’t been. She’d been too lost in her stupid, self-induced quest to find happiness, and of course, it included a male, hearth and home. Why was it so hard for her to find, anyway? Other women met men all the time.

She clicked over to her new Facebook fan page, so graciously set up by a sympathetic blogger. She could have reported it and gotten it removed, but hadn’t. She could hear her father’s voice in her ear. Actions have consequences, and she would unflinchingly accept hers.