A Love of My Own (15 page)

BOOK TWO

Everything Must Change

OLETA ADAMS

1
__________________

I was sitting at my desk, reading the final version of the story on Yancey B. I knew we'd sell a lot of copies because of all the additional media coverage the magazine would get for breaking the story of Miss Yancey's crack problem. I couldn't wait to see what the public reaction would be to the juicy dish Yancey's own mother had turned over to Kirsten.

When I finished reading the article, I thought back to the night before, when Jabar had not only made love to me with his young-buck passion but had given me a deep-tissue massage, all while listening to Maxwell croon “This Woman's Work.” My body was sore from pure, unblemished joy.

I knew I needed to get my mind back on work, when Raymond rushed into my office with a look of panic on his face.

“Raymond, what's wrong?” I asked.

“Turn on your television,” he said.

I looked at him, puzzled, and asked, “Why?”

“You're not going to believe this.”

I reached for the remote control and turned on the office television, which I rarely watched unless I was working late and didn't want to miss
Entertainment Tonight
or
E! News Daily.

“What channel?” I asked.

“Any of them,” Raymond said.

When the screen came on, I switched to Channel 2 and was a little surprised to see Bryant Gumbel and Jane Clayson still on. I knew it was a little past nine because Doug Banks and DeDe McGuire were no longer entertaining me on the radio.

“Can you believe it?” Raymond asked.

“What's happening?” I asked.

“Two planes hit the World Trade Center,” Raymond said, looking at me disbelievingly.

“You're kidding,” I said as I stared at the television. “Is it an accident?” I asked.

“They haven't said, but it doesn't sound like it. I mean, two planes hitting those buildings at the same time,” Raymond said.

“That is bizarre,” I said. A few minutes later, Cyndi walked into my office and asked if we had heard what happened.

“We're watching now. How did you find out?” Raymond asked her.

“My mother called to make sure I was all right,” Cyndi said.

“Maybe we should close the office,” Raymond said.

“You think so?”

“I think we should,” Cyndi said. I looked at Raymond for an answer, as several employees starting gathering in my office. Melinda Turner, one of the staff writers, had tears streaming down her face.

“What's the matter?” I asked as I went over to console her.

“Zola, you know there have to be people on the floors where the planes hit,” Melinda said.

“Melinda, you're right. I don't know what I was thinking. This just doesn't seem real. It's too crazy,” I said.

“Davis isn't in yet. I called his office before I came here,” Raymond said. “I think we should get ready to close the office.”

“Cyndi, tell everyone we're closing for the day,” I said.

“I will,” Cyndi said as she dashed out of the room.

“I'll have Bristol tell everyone on my side of the building,” Raymond said as he left my office, leaving me with Melinda, who was now sobbing like a baby.

Less than an hour later, the unthinkable happened, and we watched the towers crash to the ground. It looked like they were falling in slow motion. A security guard had stopped by and told us to evacuate the building immediately. I grabbed my purse and briefcase and headed out with Raymond, Cyndi and several staff members to the stairwell.

Pandemonium was barely contained as we descended from floor to floor in a half-dark stairwell. It was chaotic but unusually calm at the same time. I could hear the sound of shoes and heels hitting the concrete steps and people mumbling in disbelief.

Fifteen minutes later, when we all reached the ground floor, I breathed uneasily, thankful that I worked out. Some people were gasping. My body was drenched with perspiration as I walked through the door that led to the street. It was beautiful all day long, but after the events of the day, I wondered if the sun would ever really shine again.

I saw people hugging and holding one another while many of them were trembling like a leaf after the first fall rainstorm. My beeper went off, and I saw I had eight new messages. The first one was from Jabar, asking if I was all right. I sent him back a simple “OK” message. I responded the same way to messages from Justine, Kai, Hayden and Davis. I looked in my purse for my cell phone and realized I had left it in the office.

Raymond looked at me and asked how I was going to get home.

“I guess the subway.”

“They've stopped the subway. I heard that on television right before I left my office,” Raymond said.

“Well, I know catching a cab will be impossible,” I said.

“So let's start walking,” Raymond said.

As we hurried up Broadway, people on the streets walked briskly with a look of both shock and grief on their faces. Raymond and I moved in silence. I was thinking about the people in the towers and I felt so grateful to be able to walk a New York sidewalk. When we reached Fifty-seventh and Broadway, my eyes met the gaze of a somber-looking woman holding the hands of two small children. That's when I felt an intense sadness in my heart and I could no longer hold back my tears.

2
__________________

“Let it go, Zola,” I said as I held her tightly on the corner of a busy New York street. There were people everywhere, but it was unusually quiet. The city had a dreamlike quality, and all us residents were now extras in a low-budget horror film.

Zola pulled away, wiping tears from her face.

“I'm sorry. I just lost it,” Zola said.

“I'm just glad I could be here with you. I think we're all going to shed some tears before this is over,” I said, looking into her watery eyes.

“Don't you live near here?” Zola asked.

“Yeah, a couple of blocks up. Would you like to stop and wash your face?” I asked.

“Thank you, but I'll be fine. I think I'm going to keep walking. I have a lot to be thankful for and a lot to think about,” Zola said.

“We all do. Do you mind if I walk with you?” I asked.

“You don't have to do that,” Zola said.

“You'll be doing me a favor. To be honest, being alone in a quiet apartment is the last place I want to be right now,” I said.

“Sure, I'd enjoy the company. But you know I live on 127th Street, don't you?”

“I knew you lived in Harlem. I'll just walk with you until you get tired of me,” I said.

As Zola and I continued our walk up Broadway, stillness had settled over the city, which was ballooning with grief and love.

Perhaps for the first time ever in New York, people didn't react angrily when you bumped into them. Everyone was looking for a friendly face, and today it didn't seem to matter if that face was black, white or brown. New Yorkers weren't looking in store windows but into the eyes of one another. The gazes were comforting and nonthreatening.

When Zola and I crossed 100th Street I couldn't help but think about all the people who found themselves trapped in the two huge towers. Whenever I spotted people overcome with grief on the streets and crying, I wondered if they had lost a loved one and I wanted to reach out and hug them as I had hugged Zola.

I called Basil's office on my cell phone and was told that he wasn't in, but his assistant assured me he was safe. I called his apartment and got his answering machine. Even though I knew he was okay, I very much wanted to hear his voice.

“Well, this is where I live,” Zola said as she pointed to a handsome carrot-colored brownstone an hour or so later.

“Beautiful building,” I said.

“Would you like to come in?” Zola asked.

“Thanks, but not today. I don't know how long the subways are going to be out of service, and I want to get back to my apartment and turn on the TV and see if there's more information on what happened,” I said.

“I understand,” Zola said as she started up the steps. I had walked a few feet, when Zola called out my name. I turned and she moved swiftly toward me and kissed me on the cheek and whispered, “Thanks for being there.”

“Thank you for letting me,” I said.

3
__________________

After two hours in a soaking bath I was ready to return to the world. The walk from midtown to Harlem was more than a notion and my body was aching with stress. My phone had been ringing off the hook and I knew I needed to talk to my family.

After I put on my robe and turned on the television, the phone rang again. The caller ID displayed my folks' number.

“Hello, Mother,” I said.

“Zola, baby, are you all right?” my mother asked, crying.

“Mother, please stop crying,” I said.

“Zola, honey, I am so glad to hear your voice. I know you have meetings all over that city, and all I could think of was you being there in that burning building. I was shaking and screaming when I couldn't reach you . . . I mean, I have been praying all day. Thank God you're all right,” Mother said. While my mother was rambling, my two-way pager went off. I looked at it and saw a message from Kirsten asking if I was okay. I paged her back with a simple “OK.”

“Most of the cell phones were out most of the day and I had to walk home because the subways weren't running. But I'm fine, Mother,” I said.

“What about your friends?”

“So far, so good. I have gone through my phone book, but I've heard from most of my friends,” I said. My pager went off again, and it was Jabar, leaving a one-word message:
kwel.

“How's the city?”

“It's strangely quiet. I mean, people are walking around in shock. It's so sad,” I said as I fought back tears. The television was on mute, but the image of the day was being repeated almost every five minutes. I switched the channel to the E! network, where they were doing one of those true Hollywood stories on some female star I had never heard of.

“Your sister called, asking about you,” Mother said.

“Asking what?”

“She just wanted to make sure you were okay. Do you want me to give her your number?”

“No!”

“Why don't you want to speak with her?”

“I have enough drama right here in New York. Tell her I'm safe, but right now I can't deal with her problems. Today taught me what real problems are,” I said.

“Trust me, baby, I understand.”

“Thanks, Mother. Is she still on that crack?” I asked.

“She say she's not.”

“Give her my cell number,” I said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I think I'm ready to speak with her.”

“I'll give her the number. You know, I think you need to move back to Nashville,” Mother said.

“Mother, I have a career here. I am not going to let these crazy fools run me out of the city I love,” I said firmly. My call-waiting beep sounded and I looked at my caller ID and saw Jabar's cell number. I didn't click over, but I felt good he was reaching out. For a brief moment my thoughts went to imagining Jabar and his big, strong arms wrapped around me, protecting me from the dangers of the world.

I had never thought of him in that way before, and for a minute it threw me. Was it just an emotional reaction to the day's events?

“Then consider coming home for a couple of days, maybe even a week.”

“I'll think about that, but I don't know when the airports will reopen, and to be real honest, I'm not too eager to get on a plane,” I said. I hadn't been able to shake the image of the planes crashing into the World Trade Center. I thought of my mother sitting on the edge of her bed, braiding and greasing my hair when I was a little girl, and I smiled to myself at the memory.

“Your father and I aren't doing anything. We can drive up there and get you.”

“Mother, you don't have to do that. I'll be fine and I'll come home soon. I need to go. I have some more calls to make. Please tell Daddy I'm fine. I love you,” I said softly.

“I love you too. Please be careful. Please promise me you'll do that,” Mother said.

“I promise I'll be careful. You get some rest,” I said before I hung up.

It seemed that just as I hung up the phone, it rang again. It was Hayden.

“You okay, boyfriend?” I asked.

“Honey, I'm alive. Did you hear they think there might be over ten thousand people dead in those buildings?”

“I have the television on, but I have it on mute. I can't bear to listen to it. I mean, all those people with pictures of loved ones. Every time I think about it, I start crying all over. Can you believe this has happened?” I asked.

“No, I can't. You know it's a strange day when both my father and mother call. I guess my father really does love me,” Hayden said sadly. I knew it had been several years since Hayden had spoken with his father. They'd had a big blowout when Hayden started accepting gifts from a much older and married man whom his father knew. Hayden had moved out of the house when the man left his wife and rented an apartment for Hayden. I guess the 9/11 tragedy was quickly having a positive effect on estranged family members. I mean, why else would I permit my mother to give Pamela my number?

“Have you talked with Kai?”

“Yeah, she's gone upstate to see her parents for a couple of days,” Hayden said.

“Is she okay?”

“Kai said she was, but we both know that child is fragile enough without all this shit happening,” Hayden said.

“At least she won't be alone,” I said as I looked at my empty carved four-poster bed. I was thinking about calling Jabar, but I didn't know if this was sending out a signal that I wanted to change our arrangement.

“I've been going through my phone book, trying to find a warm body to come over here and hold me tonight. I guess this is what I get for dating only men with females,” Hayden said.

“You want to come over here?” I asked.

“You're not going to try nothing are you?” Hayden asked, laughing.

“No, Fool,” I said. The phone beeped, and I saw Justine's number flash across the phone.

“Baby, this is Justine. Call me if you need to talk,” I said.

“I will. I love you, Zola Mae,” Hayden said. I loved it when he called me Zola Mae because he said he didn't want me to ever forget I was a Southern girl.

“I love you, Hayden. Good night.”

I clicked over the line and greeted Justine.

“How are you doing, darling?” Justine asked.

“Glad to be alive,” I said.

“Me too.”

“I don't know why, but I feel the need to call everyone I've ever known,” I said.

“Even Wilson?” Justine asked.

“I'm not delusional. Did you forget what you promised?”

“I'm sorry. I know I promised not to ever say his name.”

“Are you alone?” I asked, trying to move on.

“Actually, I'm not,” Justine said.

“Aren't you lucky? I should have known you'd find a man to keep you company,” I said, laughing.

“It's not a man,” Justine said softly.

“What? Justine, stop tripping,” I said.

“Zola, please. I'm here with my neighbor Rhonda. She stopped by and invited me to go to church with her tonight. They're having a midnight prayer service. I called to see if you wanted to go,” Justine said.

“This is some day. You just make sure Rhonda knows how long it's been since you've been in a church,” I said.

“I told her and I was embarrassed. Tonight I think I need to feel the warmth of several people and not just one.”

“I hear you. Say a little prayer for me, but I am ready for bed, so I'll pass,” I said. I knew sleep wasn't going to be easy, and I couldn't bear watching the news, seeing those planes, the smoke and fire over and over. It would give me nightmares for months to come.

“If God still hears my prayers, then I will certainly pray for you. I love you, Zola. I'm happy you're all right,” Justine said.

“I love you too. Please be careful,” I said as I hung up the phone, still slightly stressed and tired from a most eventful day. Still, I had never been happier to be alive.