In Her Mind (Mountain High Valley Low ) (5 page)

I sighed extremely loudly to make sure that Brandon heard me through the phone. I’d wished he would stop asking me the same damn question over and over again. After the fourth time, I mocked him silently, moving my lips as he spoke the annoying words, “When are you coming home?” I wanted to scream, NEVER!

I was done with the whole Brandon Cabrini charade. I never wanted to go back to that house with him again. Making room for Brian to re-enter my life was my top priority. I felt as if I was finally getting through to him. If I couldn’t, then I knew BJ could. Even though he seemed pretty peeved about me leaving BJ with him and disappearing, he appeared to have fallen for him. Brian adored his son. I smiled as I remembered the endearing look they shared when he handed him over to me. I was certainly on my way to having what I wanted, so I wasn’t about to let Mr. Cabrini ruin my plans.

The thought of Brandon brought me back from my state of remembrance to the present.
“Shelly! Are you listening to me? Have you heard a word that I’ve said? You haven’t answered my question yet,” Brandon asked yet again. “We really need to talk. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure we can work it out. I want you and the baby home, Shelly.”
I chewed on the sides of my thumbnail, something I often do when thinking of a response. I didn’t have room in my life for Brandon now, not with all I had on my plate. I wanted to say it so badly but still didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He knew it, I knew it, heck, everyone knew it, but no one would dare speak the words. BJ’s not yours anyway, so what’s the big deal? I said in my head. I still couldn’t bring myself to release the words into the air, knowing they would cut Brandon like a knife.
“Say something, Shelly. Don’t do this to me,” he pleaded. He was beginning to sound downright pitiful. “After all this time, what happened for you to up and walk out on me like this?”
“I didn’t walk out on you, Brandon.” I had to say something because he was getting dramatic.
“Well, what would you call it? You left the house yesterday morning without a word about where you were going. You stayed out all night and didn’t call. When I tried calling you, I got voice mail every single time. I just don’t get it. If I did something to cause all of this then let me know. I need some answers here.”
I was about to give him an answer until I spotted my hollow mother as she entered the room. I wasn’t ready to reveal everything to her just yet.
“Listen, Brandon, give me a few hours. I’ll be home tonight and we can talk, okay?” I turned my back to my mother so she couldn’t hear me and watched her from a sideways-peripheral view. “I’ll call you when I’m on my way,” I said with finality as I gazed back at my mother as she pretended to be busy.
“Where are you? The least you could do is tell me that much. As a matter, of fact you owe me that much. I am your husband, aren’t I?” Brandon smarted.
“I’m with my mother. I’ll call you when I’m on my way,” I said for the last time and proceeded to release the call with a touch of the
END
button. But before my hand could fully reach the button on my cell phone, I could hear him trying to get in a few last words. I ended the call anyway.
When I turned in Mother’s direction, she was standing right on my heels, staring down her pointed nose at me. I hated when she did that. It was as though she could see right through me.
“Was that Brandon?” she asked me with piercing eyes.
“Yes it was, Mother.” I hated calling her Mother. It sounded so formal and distant. Yet that’s what she demanded I call her since I was a child.
One day, my mother, Sheila Winston, decided that I should begin calling her Mother instead of Ma or Mommy. She said it sounded important and reminded her of the rich. The first time I said it, it felt strange coming from my young lips and I instantly felt a sense of detachment. Even after practically begging her to let me call her Mommy again, like all the other kids called their mothers, she scolded me, refused, and insisted that I refer to her as Mother at all times, especially in front of her girlfriends and Daddy’s side of the family. Sheila, which is how I referred to her when I wasn’t in her presence, also tried to make me call my daddy “Father,” but he wasn’t having it, and I was elated. That simple demand drove my mother and me apart while Daddy and I developed a special bond.
“Tell me, Shelly,” my mother probed as she began to prepare a cup of her favorite Sunday afternoon tea. “What’s going on at home? Exactly why are you here?”
I knew it was coming, but I didn’t want to go there with her, not this day or any day. She would never understand. All of the decisions she ever made in life were based on how much she could gain. And no matter what my dilemma, she had her opinions which, as far as she was concerned, took precedence over anything anyone else had to say.
“I can’t come to visit my mother … Mother?” I asked with such sarcasm that she narrowed her eyes at me. After the piercing look, I lost some of my steam. “Just some minor issues with Brandon, that’s all. Where’s Daddy?” I asked, trying to dismiss her.
I love my mother dearly, but there are times when I absolutely don’t want to be bothered with her judgmental ass. But I was in her house, so the least I could do was engage her in simple conversation. That is, if there ever was such a thing when it came to my mother. Discussions with Sheila usually left me feeling like I had been interrogated.
“Where did you and BJ sleep last night?” she asked as she walked toward the large sliding glass doors leading to the back of the spacious brownstone, sipping her tea.
“At my old condo,” I said nervously. “What made you ask?” I wondered.
“Brandon called every hour on the hour inquiring about your whereabouts,” she answered as she stared out into the small but beautifully landscaped yard, complete with a Tuscan-inspired water feature, cozy seating area, custom-built stone barbeque grill, and lush borders of colorful and fragrant plant life. “Why wouldn’t you tell him where you were or answer his calls? Are you contemplating leaving him?”
“Mother…” I said, then paused. Knowing how she felt about my “arrangement,” I prepared to tread carefully with this conversation. “I’m getting tired—”
“Tired of what!” she nearly shouted as she whipped her neck around to look at me directly. She had done it so fast she had to step back a tad to avoid spilling the hot tea she was carrying. Then she quickly brought her hand to the back of her neck and began rubbing it. Obviously, the sudden move had caused some level of pain. “What are you saying, Shelly?” she asked, putting the steamy cup down on a nearby accent table.
I rolled my eyes in my head and sighed. She’d never understand what I was feeling. I doubt that she ever truly loved anyone or went after anything with her heart. Everything Sheila did was purposeful and calculated from start to finish. She would examine every potential outcome, then set her plan in place, never to digress from her chosen path until she accomplished what she set out to achieve. I’d seen it a thousand times growing up.
“Ma, I’m tired of the game.” I watched gleefully as her eyes stretched wide at my disregard for her title. “I don’t love Brandon and I never did.”
She came at me with her finger pointed, as if I were a child. “This is no game, Shelly,” she said, stretching the word game as if to mock me. “This is your life.” She said each word as if each represented its own statement. “A life that you chose, I might add.”
“That’s only because it was shoved down my throat by you and Daddy and your concerns for what your high-society, so-called friends might have to say. As if they lead the most perfect lives themselves,” I said, beginning to shake. Why had I listened to them in the first place? I should have never agreed to marry Brandon. Brian was my target and I should have remained focused on the prize. Maybe I wouldn’t have spent the last two years in agony, yearning for what I had left behind. Like an actress that had been cast for the wrong role, I never felt like I belonged with Brandon.
“Don’t tell me you’re after that Brian again? Sheila raised her hands in disgust as the realization hit her. “You were smart enough to leave that alone years ago. Why rehash it now? Brandon has given you the life you deserve to live. What could that Brian possibly have done for you? Who are his parents? They’re nobodies! Does he even know who his father is?” she added snidely. “They’re not members of any worthy organization that I know of. How do I know? Because I would know them, now wouldn’t I? Brandon is the kind of man I intended for you to marry, much like your father. The kind of man who can take you places in this world and give you the finest things in life that you deserve.” She paused for effect and sighed hard. The breath lifted her chest before she blew it out in frustration. “Get yourself together and go home to your husband. You won’t embarrass me with your ridiculous pursuit.” My hands were shaking uncontrollably as she talked at me, like I was some dumb child. “Brandon is who you need. If Brian was any kind of man and wanted to be bothered with you, he would have married you two years ago when he found out that you were carrying his child.”
“What?! You want me to be like you!” I screamed with tears streaming down my face. “Be like you and marry for money and status because I couldn’t possibly achieve those things for myself? How dare you insult Brian and his parents and call them nobodies! You don’t even know them! You didn’t always have money, status, and nice clothes! In fact, you had absolutely nothing until you sunk your teeth into Daddy because of his pedigree! I guess you’ve gotten so wrapped up in your snooty social organizations that you forgot that you, too, were once a nobody!”
I didn’t realize I had been hit until the sting from the slap transmitted waves of heat through my cheek. My hand immediately covered the injured area and I tasted blood on the inside of my lip. It took another few moments to register the fact that my mother had slapped the living shit out of me. Before I knew it, my hand connected with the side of my mother’s face in retaliation. Quickly, I withdrew my hand and covered my mouth, instantly regretting the fact that I had actually struck her.
Sheila stood before me in utter disbelief as tears raced down her reddened cheek. Hurting her this way was not my intention, but she never had any regard for my feelings. Though provoked, I felt my heart swell at the disrespect I had just demonstrated.
“Oh my goodness, Mother,” I said when I finally found my voice. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
Sheila simply dropped her hands and glared at me. From the look on her face I thought she was about to hit me again, especially since she was literally within striking distance. I stood strong, ready to receive whatever she had for me. Regardless of what she had said, she was still my mother. I deserved whatever I had coming.
The quiet yet heavy thud of my father’s footsteps along the beige carpet infiltrated the tension that settled in the short distance between the two of us, but neither of us took our eyes off of the other.
“What’s going on here?” Daddy’s deep voice echoed through the air, disintegrating in the midst of the thick tension.
“Nothing, Daddy. I was just leaving,” I said as I turned to go upstairs and get my sleeping child ready for the trip back to Long Island. As I passed my father, I could see the look of bewilderment on his face.
Tears were still streaming down my mother’s face and I still hadn’t gotten a handle on my own. Red blotches peppered both mine and my mother’s fair-skinned cheeks, alluding to the fact that something very serious was indeed going on, despite the brush-off I tried to give Daddy.
“Pudding!” Daddy called out, using his pet name for me, but his gaze was fixed on Sheila.
“I’m sorry, Daddy, but I really have to go,” I said, trying not to break down completely, then raced upstairs to wake Brice, gather our belongings, and get the hell out of there.
Although I was dreadfully sorry for how I had disrespected my mother in her own house, I was more determined to show her, Lexie, Brian, and any other non-believer that Brian was destined to be mine.

Days passed before Lexie would speak to me. I still hadn’t gotten the chance to explain to her how Brice had ended up at the house. A part of me didn’t feel obligated to explain simply because he was my son. But when reality speaks loud and clear, one has no choice but to listen. And right now, reality told me that I needed to let Lexie know something if I still wanted her to be my wife. I just didn’t know where to start.

For days, Lexie would come home and walk around the house as if I didn’t exist. The only time she would open her mouth to speak was to say “the food is in there,” or to make a quick, pointed statement about some matter of importance concerning the wedding or some other unavoidable subject. The only comforting thing was that she still spoke of the wedding as if it was definitely happening.

It was time to make her talk to me or at least listen to what I had to say. I couldn’t let this issue fester any longer and possibly get out of control. There was much too much at stake. As much as I wanted Lexie as my wife, I wasn’t willing to sacrifice a relationship with my son. Besides the tension in our home, I couldn’t stand looking into Lexie’s eyes and not seeing the fire that normally resided there. Knowing that I was the reason the spark was gone made me crazy.

Lexie came through the door looking her professional best in an off-white pantsuit, a baby blue button-down shirt, and matching sandals. Her auburn-tinted hair hung loosely against her shoulders, held back from her face by her designer shades. She placed her laptop bag, pocketbook, and keys on the table by the door as she removed her sandals in compliance with her own house rule: No shoes in the house. Once her sandals were off, she grabbed them by the back straps, picked up her bags and keys, and headed for the bedroom, never stopping to acknowledge my presence. I sat and watched her move swiftly through the apartment. This time, I couldn’t help but smile, realizing how ridiculous this game had become. It was time for it to end.

Approximately fifteen minutes later, Lexie emerged from the room, sporting a light gray tank top and matching lounge bottoms. Again she walked past me and headed for the kitchen, clinking plates and utensils as she prepared something to eat. I decided to play her game right along with her, just to show her how absurd it was. I fixed my eyes on her and watched her every move. After she realized I was studying her, her actions became a little more exaggerated. Annoyance spread across her face until she couldn’t take it anymore.