In Her Mind (Mountain High Valley Low ) (4 page)

Just as I hung up the phone with Brian, I heard a barrage of knocks against my condo door. I was sulking and wanted a little more time to sulk. The tense situation between Brian and me was taking a toll on the state of my emotions, especially during a time when I was already on an emotional roller coaster because of the wedding plans. I needed answers but wasn’t sure if I actually wanted them. The loud, ridiculous knocking continued, distracting me from my thoughts.

“Girl, open this damn door!” Brooke yelled from the other side. “Open this sucker up before we break it down!”
“POLICE! Open up!” Dionne said in a deep voice that resembled a man’s. I assumed it had to be at least three people knocking on that door, and possibly kicking it, too, from the way it sounded.
I purposely took my time and tried to muster up some excitement. I didn’t want them questioning me, so I made an attempt to hide my true feelings so I wouldn’t spoil anyone else’s mood. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and released it with a sigh, rolled my neck, and got my attitude in gear before opening the door. Brooke, Dionne, and Ava spilled through the door, laughing and carrying bags and big plastic cups in each of their hands. I furrowed my eyebrows as I wondered what could possibly be in those bags.
“These are your digs for tonight, girl,” Brooke said as she placed her drink down on my glass console table and began to rummage through her bag. When she looked up she paused, looked me up and down and frowned. “Cute, but it’s just not going to work for tonight.” She put her index finger to her lips, scrunched up her nose, and said, “Okay, the jeans are okay but lose the shirt.”
Just then, Dionne and Ava burst out laughing, knocking into each other. I rolled my eyes just trying to imagine what these ladies had in store for me tonight.
“Wait a minute. What are you all up to? Something just doesn’t seem right. And Ms. Ava, does hubby know you’ve been throwing them back all day?” I said, imitating someone taking a shot of liquor.
“Girl, right now hubby is having fun with his little babies,” she said, referring to their two adorable daughters. Tonight is my night—oh, I mean, your night,” she amended as she laughed and held up her drink.
“And what are you all drinking?” I asked, examining the plum-colored liquid whirling around in their cups.
“Pomegranate martinis. Don’t worry, yours is coming. Let’s get you dressed first,” Brooke said as she took another sip before approaching me. “Come on now, reach for the stars,” she said. Brooke started cracking up as she grasped my flowing T-strap shirt at the waist to pull it up over my head as if I were a child.
“Brooke, I don’t need you to undress me. I mean, I am a big girl now. If I’m grown enough to get married, then I should at least be able to take off my own clothes.”
“Girl, hush and go with the program,” Dionne said as she pulled another shirt over my head. “Now put your arms through.”
I did as I was instructed, shaking my head and laughing. These girls were a mess and I wasn’t about to fight. I just stood in place like a little girl waiting on my next directive. Meanwhile, they worked around me like a well-oiled machine, making a fuss of my clothes and pinning things to my shirt. I realized then that even if I had worn a look of despair, there was a good chance that they would never have noticed. Their high spirits helped alter my mood.
“Okay, now you are ready. Go look in the mirror,” Brooke said then stopped abruptly. “Oh, now wait, Dionne, we forgot the topper.”
“Not to worry, I’ve got it right here,” Ava declared with her drink in her hand. I don’t think she placed it down the entire time. “Here, Brooke, do the honors.”
Ava handed Brooke a stunning tiara that glittered like moonlight against late-night waters.
“Oh, ladies, this is beautiful,” I said, taking the gorgeous piece from Brooke’s grasp. “This certainly didn’t come from nobody’s party store.”
“No, honey, this is the real McCoy. Brian said that you are going to be his queen. And we figured, what’s a queen without a crown or at least a tiara?” Brooke joked.
I fought back tears as I remembered why I wanted to be Brian’s wife, even through all of my stalling. I loved that man so much that at that moment, I was filled with emotion. I felt the tension from the past few days ease out of my body. My excitement returned almost immediately.
“Let’s get this show on the road, girls! WAIT!” Each of them stopped in their tracks when I yelled out. “Where the hell is my pomegranate martini?” I asked with my hands on my hips and attitude on my lips.
Everyone laughed and Brooke got to pouring. I had forgotten about the big fuss the girls had been making over my attire as well, and laughed and chatted while Brooke went into their bags of tricks and made me a drink.
“Come on, Lex, you have to see yourself in the mirror,” Ava said as she grabbed my forearm and practically dragged me into my bedroom while Dionne and Brooke followed.
I stood before my mirrored closet door and stared at myself. I couldn’t believe my eyes and didn’t know if I should laugh, cry, or what. I burst out laughing so hard I felt as if my eyes would pop out of their sockets. I sported a baby tee that had ample breasts and nipples faintly drawn on the front, with “Kiss the Bride for a Buck” printed across the front. The T-shirt was designed with an upside-down V-like opening that revealed my butterfly belly button piercing. Condoms were pinned to the nipples and the opening. The trim at the bottom of the T-shirt, as well as the edge of the sleeves, was adorned with silver sequins. The girls had also thrown a silver boa around my neck, and flung it back in the same fashion that Jackie O had worn her expensive scarves. They had replaced my white gold and diamond hoops with long, silver costume earrings that gently graced my shoulders and flowed like liquid.
My hair was pulled up into a bejeweled clasp and select pieces of hair cascaded down over the clasp and along the sides of my tiara. I was a glittery mess. But I looked good. If the tiara didn’t put me in the mood to party, then this outfit sure did.
“Wait, I have the perfect sandals to go with this,” I said and went scrambling through my closet for my silver stiletto sandals with the rhinestones across the top strap. I threw the shoes on and sashayed around in front of the mirror. “I think I’m ready now.” All of us doubled over with laughter. “Let’s go.”
“You have to look at the back,” Brooke said and turned me by my shoulders.
I looked over my shoulder into the mirror and saw “The Mrs.” printed across the back and scores of condoms hanging from pins. I shook my head and cracked up.
“Okay, where’s my damn drink. I have a feeling I’m going to need it!” I said and we all left the house, laughing, sipping, and singing “Who’s That Lady?” by the Isley Brothers.
The bachlorette party was held in a private room at a bar and lounge on Seventh Avenue. The low lights, trendy décor, and energetic atmosphere were intoxicating. Friends and some family members were enjoying drinks and appetizers at the bar while others were jamming to R&B cuts.
While I was at the bar, a gorgeous, tall man with smooth, dark, well-oiled skin approached me, read my shirt, and smiled. He licked his scrumptious lips, pulled a fifty-dollar bill from his wallet, and exchanged the condom at the opening of my shirt for the money. By the end of the night, the back of my shirt was covered with twenties, fifties, and even a few hundred-dollar bills. No one dared remove the condoms from my drawn-on nipples.
Our next stop was a strip bar where I was the guest of honor. A muscle-bound chocolate-colored dancer pulled my chair to the front of the stage and gave me a personal show. Before long, I had a throng of half-naked, sweaty bodies in various hues of brown, dancing, gyrating, and teasing me in ways I could never have imagined. My caravan of girls were hooting and hollering, snapping pictures and having a ball.
Brooke had taken the liberty of inviting Lori, Brian’s old buddy. We’d been seeing more of her since she moved into Brian’s old apartment. Lori had always been a really nice person. While the strippers entertained me, she snapped so many pictures I started to wonder about her, but then I dismissed those thoughts. I just hoped she didn’t plan on sharing those photos with Brian. That would be completely against the code, breaking all kinds of “girl laws.” Speaking of Brian, with all these hot-bodied men gyrating their goods in front of me, I thought to myself that he was in for it when I reached home, issues or not.
The night was eventful, to say the least. I had so much fun that my face hurt from laughing. Dionne drove home because Brooke and Ava were too intoxicated to handle the wheel.
To say that I couldn’t wait to get my hands on Brian was an understatement. I started getting out of the car before Dionne even rolled to a complete stop. By then, my tiara was lopsided and wouldn’t stay on my head. I had to keep pushing it up to keep it from falling in my face. Still buzzed from the liquor and festivities, I sang and danced my way into my home. I hadn’t paid attention when we pulled up and didn’t notice that the lights were still on. When I saw the glow of the lights underneath my door, I was happy that Brian was still awake. That way we could get right down to business.
My hands weren’t completely working with me but I eventually got the door unlocked and flung it open, singing the words from Diddy’s “Last Night.” What I saw quickly deflated my high and replaced my heated desire with heated anger and bewilderment. It felt like someone had shot an arrow through my chest and tried to pull my heart out through the narrow opening.
Brian was sitting on the couch with his head back, snoring lightly. In his arms was the little boy from the picture, fast asleep. The TV flicked animated scenes from some colorful cartoon. My tongue felt void of moisture and I realized that my mouth had been hanging open. Slowly, I closed the door and took small concentrated steps until I reached the couch where Brian was sleeping with his son. All kinds of questions and thoughts trampled through my mind.
Once I reached Brian, I couldn’t bring myself to touch him. I stood there staring at the little boy. Even with his eyes closed, it was clear to see that he’d gotten them directly from his father. My eyes traveled from Brian to the baby, taking note of all of the similarities—the gentle pout of their lips as they slept, the long jaw line, and the high cheekbones. Everything about this boy spoke volumes of where he’d come from. And he was here before me in the flesh. There was no denying his presence. The anticipation of how he could change our lives made me shudder. I wanted to be upset with him but couldn’t. It wasn’t his fault, no matter how much I wanted to place blame on him for what he was about to do to my life.
I gently swept the side of his face with the back of my hand. Seeing him was one thing, but touching him confirmed that he was real. Tears temporarily blurred my vision before spilling down my face, flowing consistently and silently. How was I to handle him being thrust into our lives at such a critical time? Could I handle him being a permanent fixture in my future with Brian or a constant reminder of what Brian shared with Shelly? The baby that I miscarried would have been just a few months younger than this little guy. It sickened me to know that Shelly was able to give him something I couldn’t.
I cupped my hand over my mouth to muffle the audible cry that eased up from my insides and ran into the bedroom. The door slammed behind me, against my intentions. Brian was the last person I wanted to see or talk to at that moment, and I hoped the loud noise from the door closing wasn’t enough to wake him or the child. With my back against the door, I slid to the floor, my body heaving. The moisture from my tears filled my hands as I held my face. Then soft knocks tapped against the opposite side of the door. Unable to find words, I left his knocks unanswered. The knocks came again but I still didn’t respond.
From the other side of the door, Brian called my name ever so softly. His words seemed to drift through the air and wrap themselves around me. I shook off the feeling of comfort that his voice often caused. I didn’t want to acknowledge our attachment. What if I wanted out? It would be too hard to walk away from what we had because of this perpetual shift.
“Lexie, please. Open the door. I want to explain.” There was that tone again. The soothing one that spoke volumes without words and confirmed that everything would be alright. But I refused to believe it, so I covered my ears.
Brian knocked again, then tried the door handle and pushed the door into me. I refused to move. He pushed once more and then stopped, but he didn’t walk away. Besides seeing the shadow of his feet beneath the door, I could feel the thickness of his presence. Yet I stood my ground and remained in place as minutes ticked away.
Finally, I gained a voice and asked through the door, “Could you please do me a favor and find somewhere else to sleep tonight?”
His only response was a hard, frustrated blow against his side of the door before I felt his presence depart and heard his footsteps grow fainter. When I was sure that he was away, I peeled myself from the floor and slowly cracked the door before heading out. Hoping he was gone, I stepped out of the room in need of air, only to find Brian standing right there waiting for me. I could feel my face contort in an attempt to thwart the tears that were about to erupt when Brian pulled me into his arms. I fought him, beating his arms and chest with my fists until he caught hold of my arms, forced them to my sides, and embraced me hard, as if he would never let go. With my arms pinned under his, I could only violently shake my head from side to side to communicate my protest.
“Let me go. Get off of me,” I repeated through my tears, but Brian only held me tighter.
After depleting the rest of my energy I dropped my head and gave up for the moment. When I lost my resolve, Brian held me tighter and planted kisses along the top of my head.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said between kisses. “And you can’t walk away from me. I won’t let you.”
At those words, I pushed and pushed until he finally released his hold on me. With my eyes cast down and hurting from crying, I backed away from him until I reached the room again. Just before I closed the door, I lifted my eyes to meet his. He stood still, just where I left him, pleading with his eyes. I cut off his gaze when I closed the door, separating and defining the space between us.