STRINGS of COLOR (12 page)

M
isty sat upon her sofa. Her hands were shaking and she was sure her heart was going to explode.

You've got to relax
, she tried telling herself.

She clicked off the lights and allowed her head to rest upon a pillow. Images began to flash through her mind and then the tears came.

It's not your fault
,
right?

Maybe
it is
.

She switched on the television and turned to the news. She listened carefully.

I can't find a thing. That's good, isn't? Let me try another channel.

She franticly flipped through every news station she could find.

I need a glass of wine, maybe two.

Man, this is insane. Pull yourself together, girl.

She gulped down two glasses of wine.

As she stared at the wall of her kitchen it dawned on her,
I better get an attorney, just in case.

Misty sat on her sofa again and stared at her phone. It had been years since they spoke. She wasn't even sure his cell phone number was the same.

She issued a sigh of relief when the voicemail picked up.

There weren't many things or people for that matter that made Misty nervous. Having to speak to her brother was definitely the exception.

Misty turned her attention back to the television. She raced back through the news channels and drank another glass of wine.

Thirty minutes later her cell phone rang. Her hands began to shake again.

"Misty?"

"Yes, it's me."

Silence.

"What do you want?" He asked her.

"I may need your help, Lynden."

"You know I don't get involved in your little schemes."

"This is serious."

"How serious could it be?"

"I may have killed someone."

"What!"

"It's not my fault."

"What do you mean it's not your fault? What happened? Start from the beginning, Misty, and don't leave anything out."

"First, you have to promise me you will help me."

"I can't make that type of promise, Misty."

"Please Lynden."

"I've never heard you beg for anything in your life."

Misty didn't respond.

"Okay Misty, I will help you, but you've got to start by telling me what in the world happened."

Misty took a deep breath…. she started to open her mouth when something on the television caught her eye.

"Lynden, I'm sorry. Let me call you right back."

"What's going on, Misty?"

"Give me a minute! I said I will call you right back."

"Don't bother."

"It's not like that." Misty had to catch herself. "Do you remember Jazzmyne?"

"Of course I remember her. You and Dad tried to…."

"This is not the time, Lynden."

"You brought it up. What does she have to do with your situation?"

"Nothing, well, not entirely. Look, I just saw a caption on the news that said that her husband, Chris, passed away yesterday."

"You're kidding me?"

"I'm sure of it. Let me call you back."

"Okay, but you had better call back, Misty. I'm not chasing you down."

"Trust me, I'll call."

Misty hung up the phone and turned up the television. She couldn't believe her ears. All she could think about was, Ken.

I miss him so much
.

As she watched the news, she felt herself going there…

He's gone girl, gone
.

She got up and walked into her bedroom, opened her top drawer and pulled out a photo of both of them standing in front of The Clue, on opening day.

I really did love you
.

Misty walked over to her phone.
It's time,
she thought to herself;
to make everyone who owes me a favor, pay up.

Her first call was to the police chief.

S
imone and Carl sat at a restaurant table barely speaking to each other.

"Are you okay?"

Simone couldn't find the strength to eat.

"I know it's hard but you've got to eat something."

Maybe taking her out to eat wasn't such a good idea
.

Carl had been struggling with the idea of them going to dinner ever since he had broken the news to her about Chris yesterday. It was the only thing he could come up with to get her out of the house so that they could spend some time together.

"I can't. I just keep thinking about her. I can't even imagine what she's going through right now."

"I know. When Felicia called me I couldn't believe it myself."

Carl looked at Simone intently.

"Say what you have to say." She already knew what was coming as Carl reached across the table and grabbed her hand. He waited for the waiter to pass by before he spoke.

"I was just thinking that maybe we should go see her."

"I wonder if my mother knows about Chris."

Carl knew she was trying to change the subject.

"I tried calling her but all I got was her voicemail."

"That's strange." Simone tried not to look his way.

"They still haven't spoken to each other yet, have they?"

"No, I don't think so."

"And you? How long are you going to keep putting off speaking to Monà?"

"I don't know. Honestly, I feel like I don't know anything right now."

"Maybe we need to go by there and check on her. Maybe she's heard."

"No."

"You can't just keep putting it off, Simone."

"Stay out of it."     

"I'm a part of it because you are a part of me."

Simone didn't respond. She began to tap her fork on the table.

"I'm sick and tired of you trying to tell me what I need to do!"

"Where is that coming from?" Carl was rather taken back by her tone.

"Ever since this all started happening, you've been like…Simone you need to do this, and Simone you need to do that. I'm a grown woman. I made decisions before you and I believe I am still capable of making them. Just because you put a ring on my finger doesn't mean you know what's best for me."

"What are you doing, Simone?"

"What do you mean? I'm simply saying that you need to stop trying to tell me what I need to be doing every single time we have a conversation."

"No, you're doing more than that."

Carl removed his hand.

"You're my boyfriend Carl, not my father."

"I'm not your boyfriend Simone, I'm your fiancé. Remember?"

"Yeah, well."

"Well what?"

Carl felt an anger climbing up inside of him that he was trying to force back down.

"I just want to go home."

"No, you want to run away."

"Call it what you want."

"I'm calling it like I see it."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. It seems to me that you're just trying to find an excuse not to marry me?"

"That's your insecurity, not mine. I told you yesterday that wasn't true."

"You keep saying that, but your actions and tone say something else."

"Carl, every time you and I have a disagreement you throw up the wedding and start telling me how you think I feel about it."

"I'm just trying to determine what's really going on here."

"I don't know what's really going on. I just told you that I don't know anything right now."

"Talk to me, Simone."

"I don't know, Carl."

"You don't know what?"

"I don't know… maybe you're right."

Carl stared at her. Part of him wanted to get up and walk away and part of him wanted to grab her and hold her.

He reached out for her hand again but she moved it back.

Carl shifted his weight in his chair.

"Say it, Simone."

"Say what?"

"Say it and get it over with."

Simone looked around the restaurant. The tears were streaming down her face.

"I don't think I want to get married."

Carl got up, placed enough money on the table to cover the check, and walked away. He didn't let her see his own tears.

"When Naya saw the sincerity of her tears, she immediately wished she could take it all back. It was too late. Her words and actions were like feathers in the wind. Once let loose, they were impossible to retrieve."

J
onathan lay in his bed, staring at the clock. It was almost ten o'clock and still his wife had not come home. He wasn't even sure where she went.

When the phone rang he leaped over the bed to grab it.

"Is this Mr. Creek?"

"Yes, it is."

"This is the police department calling in regard to a Mrs. Felicia Creek."

"What is it? Is something wrong with my wife?"

"Sir, there was an accident. Mrs. Creek has been rushed to the emergency room at Emery-Cook Hospital."

"Is she alright?"

"We can't say."

"What about the baby? My wife was pregnant."

"We don't know, Mr. Creek, at this time…."

Jonathan hung up before they could finish.

He sat on the edge of the bed, rushing to put his shoes on. His hands shook and the pain in his leg seemed to radiate throughout his body. He refused to acknowledge it. His thoughts were running wild. His heart was full of fear.

What if I lose her?
Even as he said the words, he knew he had to quickly dismiss the thought. But then, as he pulled himself off the bed with his cane he couldn't help himself…his thoughts took him to his unborn child. He felt like screaming.

The pounding in his chest scared him.

He began doing something he had never done before. He began to pray.

Ten steps later he was heading toward the car when he passed the door to what was to become the nursery. Looking quickly inside, his eyes gazed upon the layers of boxes filled with furniture he had promised he would put together weeks ago. The walls were still a bone white. Walls he had promised to paint a month ago. He fought the tears.

He sped away the moment the sitter pulled up. Trembling fingers fought to guide the steering wheel. His foot was heavy on the gas pedal.

He thought about the first time they met. Her soft lips were filled with a calming voice. There was passion for life in her heart and a caressing mildness in her touch. He had always felt that he never really deserved her. Her parents had felt the same at first. They passed away a few months after Felicia had their second child.

The wide glass hospital doors flew open and Jonathan fought to get himself under control.

The police were there. His heart began to pound again as he saw blood on one of them.

Is that Felicia's?

He moved fast, searching for a nurse. Searching for anyone that would tell him his wife and child were going to be alright.

There was a voice behind him.

"Mr. Creek?"

Jonathan turned around to see Dr. Banner walking up toward him. He searched her face looking for a speck of hope.

When she smiled, even she could see the relief upon his face.