Until My Heart Stops Beating (18 page)

              Rasheeda and Marcella looked on from afar smiling. It was good to see their friend enjoying herself after being in a funk for the last couple of weeks. It didn’t take long before they were joined by two very handsome men offering to buy them drinks. They accepted the offer moving over allowing them to join them. They chatted, getting to know each other and was already making plans to meet up again. So engrossed in the company and the conversations they were having they did not realize how much time had passed
.
Looking around, Marcella tried to locate Makeba who had been missing in action damn near all night.

              “Oh my God,” said Marcella after locating her friend.

              “What?” Inquired Rasheeda.

              She pointed to her left.

              “What in the hell?”

              Rasheeda raised her neck to get a better look. What surprised her was not that Makeba was dancing, no, it was how she allowed a tall, handsome, and sexy stud to grind up against her.

              “Ultima llamada por alcol,” announced the bartender.

              Rasheeda leaned over the table. “What the hell did he just announce?”

              Marcella guffawed. “He said last call for alcohol.”

              Rasheeda bent over in laughter. “Well, I couldn’t take another one if I tried. I think I had one too many.”

              “Neither can I. Thank God we have a designated driver.”

       Glancing in Makeba’s direction, Rasheeda said, “No we don’t either.”

              “Why?”

              She watched as her friend stumbled, bumping into a table trying to make her way over to the bar. She nodded her head in Makeba’s direction. “That’s why.”

              Marcella chuckled. “She is wasted.”

              “No fucking kidding Sherlock.”

              They sent the men away but not before exchanging numbers and promising to call them soon. Suddenly, a light went off in Rasheeda’s head.

              As if she could read minds Marcella asked, “What?”

              “Throw me Makeba’s purse.”

              “For what? What are you going to do?”

              “Throw me the damn pocketbook. Clearly, Marcella had annoyed her.

              Marcella snatched the purse off the seat next to her and handed it to
Rasheeda under the table. She powered on Makeba’s cell phone. There was a security lock on it but she didn’t fret. She knew the code. On several occasions she had to answer it for Makeba when she received calls at work during the times when she was busy taking care of customers. She punched in the four digit code then clicked on contacts finding exactly what she was looking for, Declan’s number. She texted him telling
him where they were and made sure to add directions on how to get there. It wouldn’t be hard to find because it was another spot located in downtown Newark, not far from the hotel he was staying at. He returned the text, thanking her for her help and informed her that he was on his way.

              Returning the phone to Makeba's purse Rasheeda smiled as she gave it back to Marcella so that she could put it back where she got it from. Marcella eyed her inquisitively. She shrugged her shoulders
but didn’t say a word. Whatever questions Marcella had would not be answered. She would just have to wait
and see how things turned out. Inwardly she prayed that
by the time Declan arrived her friend would no longer be dancing against the wall with
the Cuban
stud like she’s filming a scene in Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights.

              They continued to sip on the last of their drinks. A few minutes later Rasheeda glanced over at Makeba once more and shook her head. She had a fresh drink in her hand. Her back was against the wall while Mr. Cuban pressed against the front of her. He leaned in whispering in her ear. Whatever it was that he said made her chuckle.

              “Let me go and get this girl before her man walks through that door.”

              Marcella's eyes widened. “That’s who you were texting?”

              “Yes.”

              Marcella looked over Rasheeda’s shoulders. “Well, too late now.”

              “What?”

              “He’s already here.”

              “Awe shit.’

              At that moment Rasheeda wished she could have been invisible. Her intention was to have Makeba sitting at the table when he walked in but it was too late. She didn’t move fast enough. Apparently, she underestimated the time it would take him to reach the club.

              Marcella jumped up. “Let me try to stall him while you get Makeba.”

              “Cool.” Rasheeda hurried off to get her friend.

              Marcella trotted toward Declan. He smiled at the sight of her, happy that he didn’t have to search the entire club to find them. Before she could reach him she observed the sudden change in his expression. That fast his smile turned to anger. She turned her head in the direction of where he was looking. He had found Makeba and it wasn’t a pretty sight he was looking at. Rasheeda hadn’t gotten to her in time.

              Fuming, he rushed to the area where he spotted her. He pushed the Cuban guy away as he pulled her from against the wall.

              “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snapped glaring at her.

              The Cuban guy caught his balance
and threw a punch at Declan. He blocked it then hit him with one of his own to the midsection. The guy bent over at the waist coughing. Quickly, he regained his
composure and charged at Declan landing a blow to his chin. He stumbled on impact.

              “Declan, stop!”

              Ignoring her cries, he swung a right then a left hitting his opponent, knocking
him to the floor. The bouncers
rushed
through the crowd and separated the two
men. Marcella and
Rasheeda looked on in shock at the precision and skills Declan possessed. He fought like he had been a trained boxer.

              “Damn Marcella, he put that ass to bed.”

              “It’s not funny Rasheeda.”

              Makeba ran out of the club. Declan, on the other hand. was escorted out by three burly security guards who informed him that he was no longer welcome at the establishment ever again.

              He chuckled. “You’re doing me a favor.”

              The bouncers pushed him away from the front door before going back inside the club.

              Marcella and Rasheeda spotted their friend walking towards the parking lot and ran after her. Declan followed suit.

      “Makeba.”

      Ignoring the fact that he called her name, she kept on walking, increasing her speed.

              “Makeba, wait! Rasheeda yelled.

              “To hell with all of you.”

              “C’mon Keba, wait,” added Marcella.

              Sick of her childish behavior, Declan ran behind her. He grabbed her by the arm and swung her around. “What the hell did you think you were doing in there?”

              Dodging away from him, she continued to walk towards her car. He hurried behind, this time gripping both her arms tightly so she couldn’t break free.

              “What was that?” He was so mad he could have shook the life out of her. “I walk in the club to find my fiancé drunk, standing against the wall with some fucking pervert damn near between her legs. What explanation could you possibly give me to make me understand what you were thinking?”

              “Get off me,” she spat.

              She tried to pull away but she couldn’t. Angry that he wouldn’t release her, she began to shout expletives and call him as many derogatory names as she could think of. She hadn’t been this upset with anybody in a long time.

              “Stop it,’ he yelled shaking her.

              “Shit is getting real,” stated Rasheeda.

              “This is all your fault. You should
have never texted
him.
You stuck your nose where it didn’t
belong making the
situation worse than it was.”

      “Shut the hell up Marcella. I was only trying to help.”

              Marcella folded her arms across her chest. “If this is your way of helping, promise me you’ll never help me. You’ve made a mess of things.”

              “Bullshit! I didn’t know she’d be hemmed up against the wall letting some guy rub up against the goodies. She was drunk.”

              “Whatever Rasheeda. Standing here arguing is doing nothing for the situation at hand,” Marcella exclaimed angrily.

              Rasheeda rolled her eyes. She was so heated she wanted to knock the mess out of Marcella but she knew she was only mad because Marcella called her on her crap. Yes, she had stuck her nose in something that was not her business in an effort to help and it backfired.

              Rasheeda and Marcella approached Makeba and Declan.

              “How did you guys get here?” he asked.

              Knowing full well it was Rasheeda that revealed their whereabouts, Makeba eyed her like she was dead meat.

              Feeling the heat of her friend’s glare, she turned away and replied, "We rode with Makeba."

              “Fine. I’ll drop you guys off.” He turned his attention to Makeba. “Where are your keys?”

              She frowned. He must have lost his damn mind. He wasn’t getting her keys. There was no way she was riding in the same car with any of them. That’s what she was thinking anyway.

              Aggravated, he sighed, slowly turning his head to face her. Through gritted teeth he asked, “Where are your keys?”

              Silence.

              Angrily he reached towards her forcibly taking her purse out of her hand, and retrieved her keys. “I’m so sick of playing this damn game with you.”

              He hit the alarm unlocking the doors so the ladies could get in the car, they did, except for Makeba.  He held the handle of the passenger side, opened the door and waited for her to enter. Instead, she walked away.

              “I’ll be right back,” he told the other ladies as he ran behind Makeba.

      The ladies stared out the back window observing the commotion going on between Declan and Makeba. In no time they witnessed him pulling her back to the car.

              “Get in or I’ll put you in,” he snapped standing behind her.

              She looked at him and what she saw in his eyes gave her a chill. They were dark and filled with anger. Right then and there she knew he was at his wits end with her and her shenanigans. She got in
the car and remained silent until she realized that after he dropped her friends off, he was driving in a direction away from her house.

SECOND CHANCE

              The next morning Makeba woke up feeling sore all over. She recalled tussling with Declan even after they made it up to the suite. The more he declined to take her home, the angrier she became. Many attempts were made to escape but to no avail. He wouldn’t allow her to. Eventually she gave up the fight, laid across the bed, and fell asleep.

      Feeling a little hungover, she crawled out of bed. Slowly and carefully she sauntered to the living room where she observed Declan sitting on the sofa working on his laptop. Holding onto the wall, she descended the two steps separating the rooms. Her head was pounding, the room appeared to be spinning, while her stomach did cartwheels threatening to let everything she put into her system the night before spill forth. Suddenly, the sides of her mouth began to water. She could feel it coming. Turning on her heels, she ran to the bathroom hoping she’d make it to the toilet in time. She got down on her knees as she raised the seat and hurled until there was nothing left to throw up.

              Hearing her, Declan ran to the bathroom. Peeking inside, he saw her on her knees crying as she hugged the commode. Immediately he turned on the cold water, obtained a wash cloth from the rack, held it under the running water, then after ringing out the excess, pressed it against her forehead. Moments later she got up and sat on the edge of the tub.

              “Quite a night you had last night, huh?” He continued to hold the washcloth to her head.

              “Yes.”

              He ran the washcloth under the water again, rang it out, and wiped her
face. Afterwards she stood trying to steady herself. Seeing her stumble, he
quickly caught her around the waist. She
wanted
so badly to push him away, get her things and go home but she was in no condition to leave.

              Declan moved her over to the toilet as he started the shower. Gently, he removed her clothes. There was no sense in resisting. In her condition there was no win. Instead, she complied with all that was asked of her. Once she was completely naked he helped her into the shower. Slowly he washed her up, dried her off and escorted her back to the bedroom. Pulling back the covers, he waited patiently for her to crawl underneath them. She thanked him then turned on her side. After hearing him call room service and order soup, tea, ginger ale, an antacid, all the things she needed to help her with her hangover, her heart softened.

              Declan hung up the phone and crawled into bed beside her, cradling her in his arms.

              “You hurt me,” she mumbled.

              “What?”

              “You hurt me.”

              Sighing deeply, he squeezed her tight. “I know, and I promise to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I swear.” He looked deep into her eyes as his watered. “I would never intentionally hurt you. You have to believe that.”

              Silence.

              “Baby, I’m scared and I have never been scared of anything in my whole life. I’m scared of losing you. If I do, my heart might as well stop beating.”

              For the first time in weeks, Makeba was able to witness the depths of the love
he had for her. In that moment, she had no doubts she was loved by this man. There was no way she could live without him. He was a necessity for her survival. Crying, she nestled her face in his chest.

              “I love you Declan.”

              “I love you more.”

              Declan jumped when he heard the knock on the door. He glanced down at her smiling. That fast she was deep in a drunken slumber. Carefully, he inched out of bed trying not to disturb her. He answered the door and stepped to the side allowing the
room service attendant to enter. After rolling the serving cart inside, he accepted his tip and left. Declan locked the door behind him. He remembered that he had the
engagement ring inside his computer bag. Once he retrieved it, he returned to the
bedroom, lifted
her hand and slipped the ring back on her finger.
Right back where it belongs, he thought as he returned to the living room.

~*~

              He sat as a thousand thoughts ran through his mind. Being away from her was becoming more and more difficult to deal with. Declan loved Chicago. It was home, the place where he was born and raised, a place where his family still resides and the thought of ever leaving made him cringe but he knew his future wife felt the same way about Newark, New Jersey. For a long time he pondered over ways they could rectify the situation in a way they both could be happy.

              After much consideration Declan decided the only way to keep them both happy was to take up residence in both states. Feeling as though he had solved an enigma that seemed unsolvable, he was anxious for her to wake up so that he could tell her what he decided,  hoping she’d agree.

              Makeba woke up wondering why she was in bed alone. Glancing at the window, she knew it was late. Easing out of bed she walked to the living room. Declan was stretched out on the sofa. He looked so uncomfortable that she couldn’t bring herself to leave him there. It took a few times but she was finally able to wake him up. Turning off the television, she grabbed his hand and escorted him to the bedroom. Just as she was about to crawl under the cover, he said,       “Take a shower with me.”

              Chuckling, she replied, “I thought you were sleepy.”

              “I am but I would like to shower before getting into bed.”

              She thought about it for a few then obliged him. After showering and changing into their pajamas they crawled into bed. Declan conversed with Makeba about getting a place to stay in Jersey. Just as he had hoped, she was happy about it. He told her to find an apartment, preferably a loft in the downtown area. She agreed. They held each other tight until they drifted off into a deep sleep.

              For days Makeba had been attending open houses, dragging Rasheeda along. On days Rasheeda couldn’t make it, she’d bring Marcella along. On a few occasions even her mother tagged along. After looking at over twenty apartments, she finally came found one she liked. It was a loft on West Kinney and Broad Street, a perfect location. It was so close to The Serenity Hotel, Declan could walk to work. All she had to do was wait for him to see it so that she could give the owner a deposit. The only problem with that was,
he wasn’t due to return to Jersey for another week. Believing there was another way to have him see the apartment as if he
was right there, Makeba convinced the landlord to allow her to record as they
did another walk through. He obliged her. Later that evening she uploaded the
recording to her computer and
sent it via
email to Declan. Pleased by what he saw, he skyped her telling her how great of a job she had done and informed her that the money for the deposit, food and furniture had been deposited into her account. She wished that he could be with her when she picked out the furnishings. He assured her that he would be happy with whatever she chose and that as long as he was with her, he would have been happy lying on a bed made cardboard.   

      The following day she signed the lease and paid the deposit. Although she was ready to move on with the next phase of her life, she was nervous about the adventures that awaited her. There were questions about whether moving in together before marriage was a wise thing to do. She addressed her concerns with Declan. He assured her that cohabitation before the wedding would only enhance the love they already shared and it was
the right thing to do.  He also reminded her that since he had to share his time between New Jersey and Chicago, it would give them the opportunity to miss each other. She agreed that what he was saying to her made a lot of sense for now. Eventually, they’d have to decide where their permanent home would be. Once the children started coming, there was no way they would be able to maintain that arrangement.

              The moment was upon her and it was bittersweet. Knowing this day would come still did nothing to prepare her for the overwhelming sadness she endured. She had been a pillar of strength until she carried the last box to her car and put it inside the trunk. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she hugged her mother. She glanced up at the window at her father who was looking down at them. Feeling exposed, he backed away letting the curtains close in front of him. Leaving on these terms was not her heart’s desire but it was out of her hands. Her dad was not willing to reconcile even after all the time that had passed and all the times she tried to make things right.

              After kissing her mom one last time, she jumped in her car, revved up the engine and put the gear in drive. She
couldn’t do it. There was no way she could leave things as they were. He was her father for God’s sake. It’s wasn’t supposed to be like that. The bond between a father and his
daughter should be unbreakable, unbendable, solid, and strong. She turned off the engine, got out the car and ran up the front stairs. Entering the house, she ascended the stairs and walked inside
her parents’ bedroom. There was a lot that needed to be said
before she embarked on the
next chapter of her life.

              Her dad was sitting on the edge of the bed staring into space. Approaching him she said, “You were my first love daddy, the blueprint for which to model other men that enter my life. This is all wrong. It’s not supposed to be this way. It’s your job to love me no matter what. I love you. If you never speak to me again, I’ll still love you because you’re my dad.”

              She waited for a response but there was none. She was crushed, disappointed that her dad was so stubborn and unwilling to embrace the choice she was making. She hung her head, shaking it from one side to the other. “I love him daddy and he loves me. Why can’t that be enough? I’m a grown woman capable of making adult decisions and I’ve decided to marry him. It is not defiance against you.” She walked toward the door stopping just before the threshold. “As a little girl I always imagined marrying the man of my dreams and having my father walk me down the aisle. I found the man of my dreams but my dad refuses to walk me down the aisle simply because our skin color differs. Never in a million years would I have thought I’d be as disappointed in you as I am at this moment. I would never have thought that you of all people would hurt me so badly. I know you love me daddy, but love me enough to allow me to make my own mistakes if that’s what this is. I doubt it but if it is, it’s my mistake to make.” She bawled as she ran away.

              “Baby girl!”

              Makeba stopped suddenly halfway down the staircase at the sound of her father’s voice. She turned, looking over her shoulders. He was standing at the top of the staircase with tears streaming down his face. She couldn’t recall a time she ever saw her dad cry. Immediately, she ran up the stairs into the arms of the man who loved her first, her daddy.

              “Forgive me. I’m so sorry I hurt you baby girl.”

              They continued to hug for what seemed like an eternity. Finally able to release their embrace, they walked down the stairs only to be greeted by Mrs. Jones who had tears of joy dripping from her own eyes. Moving to the side, she gave them space to enter the family room. Terrence Jones sat his daughter down and began to tell her what she had been wanting to know since this mess started. Why he was so adamant about her not marrying Declan.

              After hearing the whole story, Makeba had a better understanding as to why her dad felt the way he did about white people. He was
working on a project at a marketing firm that was going under. He knew if he succeeded with the campaign for Proctor Toys, that his company would not only break even but accrue a hefty profit that would prevent their closure.

              One evening after working late, Terrence agreed to have a nightcap with his co-worker and friend, Danny Dexter. Terrence and Danny had hit it off from day one when Danny joined Weaver, Mark and Simms Marketing Firm. During their outing, Terrence confided in his friend the plans he had for the toy campaign for Proctor Toys. When Terrence returned to work the next morning  not only could he not find the work he prepared for the project but when he entered the boardroom, Danny Dexter was giving a presentation, his presentation to Weaver, Mark and Simms Marketing Firm. None of the graphs, ideas or projections were original, not to Terrence anyway. Somehow, before his arrival at the office that morning, Danny had snuck into his office and accessed his
files then presented the work as his own. Incensed, he brought it to his boss, Mack Levy’s attention. Unfortunately, reporting Danny did not produce the results Terrence desired. Instead, he was told to put a lid on it and it didn’t make a difference where the ideas came from as long as it worked for the benefit of the company. Under any other circumstances that
would have been easy to do but there was a $15,000.00 bonus up for grabs and at that time in his life the Jones' were struggling to stay afloat. Barbara was out of work and on her second pregnancy, a pregnancy that put her on bed rest for almost the entire third trimester. He was the sole provider and the bank was threatening to foreclose on their house. As if that wasn’t enough, Mack Levy released him of his duties at Weaver, Mark and Simms because he refused to sweep what happened under the rug, and voiced his displeasure with Mack for not reprimanding Danny. His parting gift was a two month severance package and an apology that was a far cry from being sincere.