A/N: Hi there, I know it's been a long time, and I apologize for taking so long between posts. I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving and had a chance to reflect on the things you're thankful for. I'm thankful for the love, life, and my family. I'm also thankful for my beta, Belle Dean for hanging in there with me and for you for reading my little story. I'm honored. If you get a minute, I'd love to hear from you so shoot me a review.
The Spa
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Big Gulp
Edward's POV
I lean back in my office chair with my fingers laced in back of my head. These are the first few minutes I've had to myself all day. It's been very stressful. The part of my job that I hate is delivering bad news—I'll never get used to the fearful looks on the faces of the family members as I approach them in the waiting room. They sit in that room for hours praying that their loved one will be okay, but they still fear the worst. I'm fortunate in that most of my cases have resulted in their prayers being answered, but not this time. Today, I'm the culprit bearing the dreaded news that someone they love won't be around much longer—it's a love-hate profession.
Days like today slap you with the reality that life is not guaranteed and the importance of expressing your feeling to those you love. I think of my parents and the fact that they're getting older, and I feel so vulnerable. All my years of education in preparation of becoming a physician and my years of experience helping people have given me a false sense of power when the reality of it is I really have no power at all. I thank God that my parents are in good health, and they still have each other. They'll probably outlive Bear and me. He and I, on the other hand, don't have that kind of special connection with anyone. At least my relationship with Bella is going well and hopefully will develop into something more, but Bear doesn't have anyone special in his life. Well, actually he does, but he can't see it. He wouldn't recognize love if it sat on his lap—he'd probably ask it for a lap dance.
He's having a hard time right now and even though it's his own fault, I feel bad for him. It's fortunate for him the events of the day have put me in a charitable mood, because I'm going to do something for him that I refused to do before. I pick up the phone and dial Rosebud's number to plead his case. She picks up right away, which I didn't expect. I should have thought this through before I called because I don't know where to begin. I guess I'll just cut to the chase.
"Hello," she says.
"Hey, Rosarita!"
"Uh Oh," she says with a chuckle. "Have you been drinking? You only call me that when you're in a silly mood."
"No, but I could use one right now," I say, stalling for time. "I had a very long and frustrating conversation with my brother today, and I need to ask a favor of you."
"Sure, what is it?" she says with concern in her voice. I hope it's still there when I tell her what the favor is.
"I know it's a lot to ask, but would you please just talk to Bear? He's in pretty bad shape."
"Dec, how can you even fix your mouth to ask me that? You know how he treated me. I've never felt so low in my life, and you want me to make him feel better?"
"I know he's been an asshole and he probably doesn't deserve another chance, but I also know that you're the most compassionate person I know, not to mention the most forgiving. Maybe it's the doctor in me, but I hate to see anybody hurting, and he's hurting right now."
"Oh," she scoffs. "He's hurting, huh? So, what am I…chopped liver?"
"No, Rosebud. I know he hurt you, and that's why it's so hard for me to ask this of you, but as foolish as he is, he's still my brother. I've never known him to be so down, and I know it's because he hasn't heard from you. I wasn't going to get involved, but he practically begged me to ask you to take his call. He says he just needs to hear your voice."
"Give me a break. He had all the chances in the world to do a whole lot more than just hear my voice, but he rejected me. It doesn't take a ton of bricks to fall on my head to make me know that I'm not wanted—one or two, maybe but not a ton. I'm sorry but I have to think of my own well-being right now."
"Okay, I'll respect that," I say easing off.
"I'm sure Emmett will find someone to soothe his bruised ego, but it won't be me. It'll be my luck that I'll open up the wound just to appease him and then he'll be on his merry way leaving me open, hurt, and waiting for his phone call. No, I've got to look out for me. It's called self-preservation."
"Okay, Rosebud. I get it. I'm sorry I brought it up," I say matter-of-factly.
"Me, too, but don't you understand what I'm saying? I can't make it easy on him without making it harder on myself," she says. I don't know who she's trying to convince more—me or her.
"I get it, Rosebud. Let's just drop it, okay?"
"Fine," she says in a huff.
"Well, I've got to run. Bella invited me to a book release party that her job is putting on at the Biltmore Hotel tonight, and I'm still at the hospital. I have to go home and shower before I pick her up."
"Wow, so you'll be meeting her co-workers. How do you feel about that?"
"A little uneasy, I have to admit. It's been a long time since I was formally introduced to parents and co-workers, but I guess it has to happen sometime, right?"
"Ooh…parents, too? When did you meet her parents?"
"I haven't, yet. They're coming for a visit soon, and she's planning a big dinner party for them. I thought maybe she'd ask you to help her with it."
"Nope, she hasn't said anything to me about her parents coming to visit or a dinner party," she says. I can hear in her voice that she's hurt by that.
"Have you spoken with her since you've been back?" I ask.
"No. I've called her a few times, but she hasn't returned my calls."
"That's strange. Well, I know she's been busy with this book release thing tonight."
"Maybe, or maybe she's avoiding me."
"Why would she do that?" I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me. I've noticed a change in Bella's attitude toward Rosebud, too, but I want to hear her take on it.
"Things between us felt a little strained before I left, but I thought maybe it was just me reading too much into it. But now, it's obvious that something is wrong. While I was in Chicago, both Alice and Leah called to see how things were going, but I didn't hear from Bella at all, which is very unusual because I would have expected to hear from her before hearing from Leah. Although, the only reason Leah called was to find out if I had boned the hillbilly yet".
"Hillbilly?" I say, thoroughly confused.
"Emmett…the name?" she says, as if that's supposed to clarify things for me. When I don't respond, she explains further, "She says that names like Emmett, Jethro, and Jeb are hillbilly names. Anyway, I've done what I think is right where Bella is concerned. I've reached out to her, and now it's her turn. If she's not willing to meet me half way then I'll back off, too."
"That's not like you, Rosebud. You're always the one who hangs in there until the end."
"Yeah, that's me…Ms. Sticktoitive, or at least that was me. You know, Dec, every day, I teach people skills to cope with their problems, but now I realize there's one skill I never mastered myself, and that's knowing when to walk away. If you've truly made an effort and all that you've tried has failed, then it's okay to walk away. That's what I'm doing with Emmett and I'll do the same with Bella if she keeps tripping."
"What do you think the problem is, Rosebud?" I ask as if I don't already know.
"Well, I have my suspicions, but that's a conversation for another day. You'd better get out of there before you get stuck with an emergency patient. You've got impressions to make tonight."
"Thanks a lot for adding more stress to my already stressful day."
"I'm just kidding. You know you're always a hit."
"Thanks. Are we still on for Thursday night? We really need to finalize this party"
"Yes, we do. You and Emmett have to make a few final decisions. Why don't you come by around six. I'll cook dinner."
"That sounds great, and maybe we can discuss these suspicions of yours, too."
"Maybe so, now, go!"
"Okay, bye, Rosarita."
"Bye, Decster."
0==0
I ring Bella's doorbell at 6:30 on the dot—a little later than I planned, but I think we'll make it on time.
She answers the door, frantic, but she looks gorgeous. Her hair is down and curly, she's wearing a tight fitting black skirt with a beautiful red blouse—she's striking. I don't think I've ever seen her wear this blouse before, but for some reason it looks familiar. "Hi, come on in," she says exasperated as she turns around and walks into the living room. I follow closely behind her when she suddenly turns around, stopping me in my tracks. "I am so late!"
"I'm sorry I ran behind, but I think we can still make it on time."
"No, it's not you. I've just had the hardest time deciding what to wear. I've tried on four different bottoms with this blouse and I'm not satisfied with any of them."
"What do you mean? You're a vision in red."
"Thank you." She gives me an appreciative grin. "Well, I guess this will have to do because I'm out of time now. Let me just grab my purse and my shoes and we can go," she says as she walks away. I hadn't noticed that she was barefoot, but I do get a glimpse of her matching red toes.
She rushes back into the room, noticeably taller, and heads straight for the door. "Okay, I'm ready to go," she says as she walks pass me, but I reach for her hand before she gets there.
"Wait a minute…hold your horses," I say pulling her back to me. "I've been looking forward to seeing you all day. Can I at least have a hug?"
She laughs, "I'm sorry Edward—of course," she says as she wraps her arms around my neck and presses her body against mine. I feel her start to relax in my arms. "Umm, this nice. I've just been a frantic mess all day."
"Why? It's just a party."
"Well, it's more than that. I'm kind of spearheading this thing tonight."
"Really?" I say, pulling back to look at her face. "Do you do this kind of thing a lot?"
"No, it's my first time, but now I'm thinking I should have kept my big mouth shut."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I kind of volunteered to do it."
"Bella, can I ask you a question?"
"Of course."
"Your best friend does event planning. Why didn't you ask her for help?
"Alice doesn't do event planning," she replies.
"I was referring to Rosebud, Bella."
"Oh," she says, her body tensing again as she pulls away. "Well, I saw it as a challenge, and I wanted to do it on my own."
"Okay. Well, let's get you there so you can," I say, realizing that tonight is not a good time to have this conversation. I'm all for taking on a challenge, but I know only too well how stressful planning these types of events can be from working with Rosebud, which is why I'm surprised that she didn't ask for her help her first time out.
0==0
We arrive at the Biltmore in record time. I'd forgotten how beautiful this classic hotel is. We walk pass the piano bar where the sound of the acoustic piano is being played to perfection—I'll have to bring her back here. We get off the elevator and walk toward the banquet room where there is a table is set up with nametags and seating charts, but no one is there to greet the guests.
"Oh my God, the guests will be arriving soon and Miranda and Julia aren't at their posts. Where are they?" she says looking around, frantically.
"Maybe they're inside," I say, trying to calm her. "Why don't you go inside and check things out, and I'll man the table just in case any guests arrive?"
"That's very sweet of you, Edward, but you don't know what to do?"
"I'm a quick study. You're talking to a man who learned to decorate cupcakes in one night. I'm sure I can greet a few people."
"Okay, if you don't mind. When the guests come to the table, check them off the list and give them their seat assignment, a program, and their nametag. Hopefully the girls will be here soon to relieve you. I'll go check inside and I'll be right back."
"You go ahead I'll be fine. I'm used to being put to work at these things. That's why Rosebud takes me and the kids along to her events—just in case some of the workers don't show up…that and of course the food," I say, chuckling.
She gives me a smile that looks like it's forced before practically running into the banquet room. This isn't how I expected this evening to go at all, but you play the cards you're dealt. I sit down and look over the seating charts when another frantic woman towing a luggage cart stacked with two big crates filled to the rim gets off the elevator and rushes toward me.
"I'm so sorry. I know I was supposed to be here an hour ago, but Julia called and…"
"Calm down…it's okay," I say cutting her off before she hyperventilates. "I was filling in until you got here," I tell her.
"Thank you so much," she says, letting out a loud breath. I can see the tension leave her shoulders. "I don't mean to be rude or anything especially since you're doing me a huge favor, but… who are you?"
I chuckle before answering her question. "I'm Edward Cullen. I'm here with…"
"Bella's Edward?" she says before I finish my sentence. Her wide-eyed jaw dropping expression makes me wonder what she expected because from the looks of it, she's gone from hyperventilating earlier to going into shock now. She makes me laugh.
"Yes, I'm Edward Cullen… aka Bella's Edward," I say, still chuckling. "And who do you belong to?"
"I'm sorry, I'm Miranda," she says extending her hand for me to shake. "Miranda...aka the work horse around these parts."
"Well, Miranda, I reckon I should give you a hand with that," I say picking up one of the crates and carrying it around to the other side of the table—work horse is right—this thing weighs a ton.
"Wow! So, you're the doctor?" She says as I bend over to place the crate on the floor, I glance up to see her standing there with her hand on her hip. I give her a half smile but I don't respond. I go back to get the other crate when I hear her say in a very soft voice—almost under her breath, "How did she get so lucky…twice?" I chuckle inwardly until I look up to see her with a look of disdain. Then I start to feel a little awkward. It brings to mind what Rosebud says about relationships with women. She says she keeps them down to a limited few to avoid the dama drama.
Apparently, she senses my uneasiness and tries to clean things up a bit. "I mean, Bella's a lucky woman. My boyfriend would have never pitched in like this for me. When we walked into the lobby he made a beeline for the sports bar."
"You mean your boyfriend left you to carry all of this up here by yourself?" I ask, motioning to the crates.
"Yes, but it's no big deal—I'm used to it now."
"Well, if you don't mind me saying, you shouldn't be," I say, sitting down at the table. "And you might want to consider setting your boyfriend standards a little higher. A good man would support you when you need him. It doesn't matter if he owns the hotel, he should have come up here with you to make sure you were settled before heading to the sports bar." She listens with knitted brows and an introspective look. I'm not usually so blunt, but tact and sensitivity must be given to be received.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," she says somberly as she walks around and takes the seat next to me. I feel a little guilty that I may have overstepped my bounds, but when she turns in her seat to face me, I get the feeling she wants to talk to me about it. Maybe she needed someone to be brutally honest with her.
"Good, you're here!" I hear Bella's screeching voice before I see her running to the table—her timing is perfect. "What happened? Where's Julia? Where are the programs and the favors?" she rattles off before giving her a chance to respond.
"Julia tripped over the cart when she was packing up and sprained her ankle. She can't put any weight on it, so I had to go back to the office to get the programs and favors. They're right here—Edward here helped me unload them," she says, looking over at me.
"Why didn't you call me?"
"I did…twice. I left you messages."
"Oh, I guess I've been too busy to check my phone. Well, let's get these on the…" she stops mid-sentence when she sees that I've already started stacking the items on the table.
"Okay, Ladies, the heavy lifting is done. I'll leave it to you to arrange them how you want them," I tell them.
"Thank you so much, Edward. You've been wonderful," she says, looking at me with such gratitude.
"No problem. Just being a supportive boyfriend," I say as a huge smile forms on her face—quite the opposite of the look that's now on Miranda's.
She looks up at me and smiles lovingly before surprising me with a chaste kiss on the lips. Then she quickly turns back to Miranda to give her instructions. "Okay, Miranda, we don't have much time before the guests arrive. Let's place a favor at each place setting, and then you can come back out here and greet the guests when they arrive. When Laney is done setting up the book display, she'll come out and help you." I've never seen the take-charge side of Bella before, but I have to say that I like it.
Bella shows me to our table, and we sit and talk for a while before things get hectic. When other guests at our table arrive, she introduces me to them before running off to put out fires. I didn't expect her to stay with me all evening—an occupational hazard of an event planner, but she does come back and spend time with me every chance she gets. I don't mind, really. I'm getting a kick out of the literary scene, which I realize is no different than any other scene. You've got your eccentric people who border on being weird, your name droppers who try to impress with who they know, your intellectuals who intimidate others with their talk of Nietzsche and Socrates, and your down to earth folks who realize it's all a game and refuse to play. I think Bella and I fall into the latter category.
After the author reads excerpts from her book, which is something about tapping into your inner-psyche to realize your homogenous being—she falls into the borders on weird category, we get a chance to mingle. Bella introduces me to the guest of honor, who is a little too touchy-feely for my taste. I think she's trying to tap into my outer being…literally. I also meet some more of her co-workers and her boss. I guess the supportive boyfriend comment I made earlier gives her license to call me that because that's how she introduces me. It's a little unnerving at first because only one woman has ever introduced me as her boyfriend, and I married her. But as the evening progresses, I begin to like the sound of it.
It's taken me years to earn the prestigious titles that I hold, but tonight I've added two more pretty impressive ones to my repertoire…Bella's Edward and Bella's boyfriend. Hmm, I'd say that's not bad for a night's work.
0==0
On the ride home, we relax listening to my smooth jazz playlist. The sound of the tenor saxophone has always been my favorite of all the saxophones. I find the breathy lush tones it produces very provocative.
I look over at Bella and she's appears to be staring into space. I place my hand on her knee causing her to inhale sharply. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
"No, it's okay. I was just thinking about all that happened tonight," she says softly.
'Well, I'm sure everyone will agree it was a big success. I had a great time."
She gives me a sweet smile. "Thanks. I did, too. I'm just sorry I didn't get to spend more time with you."
"I figured you wouldn't be able to, so I spent the time getting to know the people at our table. There was certainly a wide range of personalities there."
"I know. I thought you'd get a kick out Stanley. He's a nice guy, but he holds nothing back. Brutal honesty is his motto and that carries over into his writing—he holds nothing back."
"Brutal honesty must have been the in thing tonight. I may have been a little too blunt with Miranda".
"Really? You just met her."
"I know, but when she told me that her boyfriend jetted off to the sports lounge in the lobby, leaving her to lug all the stuff up by herself, I told her she should consider raising her boyfriend standards."
"You told her that?" she says, turning toward me in shock.
"Yes. She struck me as the kind of person who speaks first and thinks later, so I figured she could take it, but after I said it, I felt bad."
"I've never gotten that far with her. She's never discussed her boyfriend with me. I didn't even know she had one," she says.
"Yes, she does and he seems to be a jerk. Maybe it's a good thing she doesn't confide in you. If she realizes how easy you are to talk to, she'll probably take up residence in your office every day. I think she was getting ready to talk to me about him when you came out, so I guess I was saved by the Bell-a." The car is filled with laughter.
"You're right—be careful what you wish for. But she isn't the easiest person to get to know. We've worked together for years, but it's like we just met. Our conversations are surface stuff or work related."
"Is that by choice?"
"No. I mean I wouldn't discuss my private business with her or anything, but I just wonder if I put off a stay away from me vibe because when Alice comes around you can't shut her up. It's like they've been BFFs for years—but then again, everybody loves Alice."
"Well, from what I could see tonight, everybody loves Bella, too."
"I don't know about all that," she says looking down and fiddling with her fingers.
"People are strange sometimes, Bella. You never know what's going on inside their heads—like the author tonight. Is she always so touchy?"
"No, she just had the hots for you. When I saw her put her long, pointy, red, nails on your chest I started to rip them off, but I don't think my boss would have taken too kindly to that—considering she was the guest of honor and all," she says making me laugh.
"So, you were going to beat her up for touching me?"
"Heck, yeah! I barely get a chance to touch you myself. Why should she have the pleasure?"
"Well, I'm glad you left her nails intact because I hardly think she's worth losing your job over. In fact, I had resolved that if she touched me again, I was going to pull you close to let her know I was with you."
"That's sweet but it wouldn't have made a difference with a woman like her. She would have seen it as a challenge."
"A challenge that she would have lost," I say, looking over at her and rubbing her knee. Although it's dark in the car, I can see her beautiful smile. We ride like that in silence for a few minutes when a thought enters my mind.
"You know, her nails did look like long bloody claws, didn't they?" I say, making her laugh. "I'm flattered that you would have taken her on for me, though." I look over at her as I slowly rub little circles on her thigh. I chuckle when she lets out a little squeak, and I continue to inch my hand a little higher.
"Edward, speaking of being brutally honest, can I be?" she says, lifting my hand from her thigh as if she's examining it.
"How about just being honest without being brutal?" I say, a little leery of what's coming next.
Turning my hand over she gently messages the inside, from my palm to my fingertips. "You have amazing hands. They're a dichotomy…strong yet gentle, serious yet playful. And your touch gives so much pleasure." She lifts my hand to her lips and gently kisses my palm. "But why is it that you can pleasure me, but I can't do the same for you?"
I try to speak, but no sound comes out. I clear my throat so that I can answer her. "I never said you couldn't pleasure me, Bella. What I said was I didn't want our first time making love to be in a car. I want it to be somewhere romantic where I can take my time cherishing your body, not in the confines of a car."
"Umm, that sounds delicious," she says with a naughty grin which causes a jolt in my shorts.
"Believe me, I would love for you to touch me."
"Really?" she says looking over at me with a seductive grin. "Okay." She places her hand on my knee, mimicking my actions. When she reaches my groin she messages my dick causing it to come alive. I let out a moan as I glance over at her, and she appears to be proud of the reaction she's getting from me. She shifts in her seat a little and reaches over to undo my button and unzip my pants.
"Bella, you're really going to do this now…while I'm driving?"
"There's no time like the present," she says as my rock hard dick springs out of the opening of my shorts. She places her warm, soft hand inside my shorts, slowly messaging my balls, and I feel heat shoot through my entire body.
"Ooh, shit, Bella that feels so good," I say trying to concentrate on driving straight. Feeling her message me through my clothes is nothing compared to the feeling of flesh upon flesh, her hand working my cock. She looks at me as she closes her hand around my shaft slowly stroking up and down. It's been so long since I had anyone touch me like this and it feels amazing. In the confined space of the driver's seat, I try to spread my legs to give her more to work with.
"Fuck, Bella," I whisper, sucking air through my teeth. She lets out a moan as her hand grips tighter and moves faster. The friction feels unbelievable; I can only imagine how it will feel sliding inside her. I rethink what I said about making love in a car. I'm starting to like the idea more and more with every stroke—at least it's a luxury car. I imagine her climbing over onto my lap and slowly lowering herself down on my dick, and with that thought, I let out a guttural groan that takes me by surprise.
"Speaking of the present, Edward, I want to give you one," she whispers as she leans forward taking the entire length of my dick into her mouth. My jaw drops and my breathing staggers. I have to force myself to keep my eyes open and on the road.
"Shit, Bella, you're going to make me wreck the car," I say, but I have no intention of telling her to stop. It feels too damn good—so warm, soft, and wet. I can't believe she's giving me head while I'm driving. I glance down and I see her head bobbing, her lips sliding up and down my cock, and I feel that familiar dull ache begin.
"Bella, I'm about to come," I say, warning her. If she plans on making an escape, now would be the time to do it, otherwise she'll end up with a mouth full, but she doesn't stop. Did she hear me? Does she want me to come in her mouth? These are questions that crowd my brain, but I don't voice. She answers by tightening her lips around my cock and picking up speed. The feeling gets even more intense, and my body convulses as I explode in her mouth. She continues sucking—draining me of everything I have. When she's done, she draws back one last time before releasing her lock with a pop, and she twirls her tongue over the sensitive head of my dick causing my toes curl inside my shoes. She sits back in her seat, looking over at me at me with a shy grin as she licks her lips. That's when I realize that she swallowed, and it's me she's licking from her lips. I look at her in utter awe and appreciation. I don't know why, but I wouldn't have figured her for the type that swallows. But then again, she never ceases to amaze me. I want to take those lips of hers and devour them, but we've taken enough chances for one night and I want to get us home safely.
"That was amazing, Bella," is all my scrambled mind could think to say. It's rare that I'm at a loss for words.
She chuckles softly before saying, "I'm glad you enjoyed it."
Enjoyed doesn't even come close to describing how I feel about what she just did to me. I can't wait to return the favor. I look at her in absolute adoration. I could just eat her up…and I plan to.
0==0
Rose's POV:
It's been days since I got back from Chicago, and I've done nothing but eat, sleep, and watch TV. I haven't spoken with anybody but Dec, who has called every day to check on me. And the only reason I take his calls is because if I don't he'll be knocking on my door, and I'd have to shower before I see him. He's seen me at my worst, but this is down-right ridiculous.
Emmett has called and texted me so many times since I left, but I don't want to talk to him. Even if I wanted to, what would I say? From an outsider's point of view, I probably seem like a depressed, pathetic woman, but I'm not at that point. Sure, I'm down in the dumps right now, but I'm not defeated. I'm just indulging myself in a little pity party right now before I immerse myself back into my busy life. If that means lying in bed with a big bag of barbeque potato chips, going funky for three days wearing the same pair of pajamas, and watching my I Love Lucy DVD collection, then so be it.
Yani has called several times, too, but I don't have the energy to talk to her either. I'm sure my mother and brother have filled her in on how great my new boyfriend is and how happy I seem, although that was a bit premature. I don't even know if I'd call him my friend now. Speaking of the diva, that's her calling again on my house phone. I listen as she leaves a message.
"Rose, pick up! Rosalie pick up—I know you're there. Rosalie Alexandria Hale, if you don't pick up the damn phone I'm coming over there right now and you know I will. You know what…on second thought, I'm calling Mama."
I suddenly have a flash back of the times I made that same threat to her and my brother and the outcome—my mother is a sweet woman, but she doesn't play. I quickly pick up the phone. "Don't you dare call Mama!" I guess turnabout is fair play.
"I knew that would make you pick up. Why are you screening your calls?"
"Because I'm not in the mood to talk, Yani. How did you even know I was back?" I say, regretting that I didn't call her bluff.
"Edward called to find out if I was picking you up from the airport. Why didn't you tell me when you were flying in? You know we would have picked you up."
"I know but you and Ricky have work and the kids. I didn't want to bother you. I was going to Uber it, but Edward surprised me."
"Good, because you know I don't trust those Uber drivers," she says.
"Yeah, I know. You sound just like Mama."
"Thank you. I'll take that as a compliment. That's who I get my wisdom from. Wait until you become a mother and that protective instinct kicks in."
"Well, I guess I'll have to live vicariously through the two of you because I messed up any chance of that happening a long time ago." I say, sadly.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Don't worry about it," I say, dismissively.
"When Edward told me you were flying in, I thought you'd at least call me when you got home, but it's been days, and I hadn't heard from you."
"I've been busy."
"Doing what? You haven't gone back to work yet."
"So you've been checking up on me?"
"No, it's called being concerned…there's a big difference."
"Well, I appreciate your concern, Yani, but I'm fine."
"You don't sound fine. Mama told me that your boy came to visit you in Georgia."
"If you're referring to Emmett, yes he did, and he's not my boy."
"Excuse me…your man," she says in a seductive tone.
"He's not my man either, Yani. Is there a reason for this call?" I ask, intentionally letting her hear my frustration.
"The last time I checked, I didn't need a reason to call my sister. What the hell is going on Rose? And don't tell me nothing."
"Ya, I really don't feel like talking about it," I say, hoping she'll let it go.
"What did that son of a b….," she suddenly stops midsentence and her tone changes drastically. "Okay, Honey, ask Daddy to look over your homework. Mommy's talking to Auntie Rose right now. Okay but just for a minute," she says in the sweet, gentle voice I only hear when she's talking to the kids.
"Hi Auntie Rose." I hear my niece's sweet voice on the phone, and it makes me smile. She always brightens my day.
"Hey, my little puka shell."
"Mommy almost said a bad word so she has to give me fifty cents," she says with a giggle. "I finished my homework. Daddy's gonna check it, and if I get them all right he's gonna give me a dollar. So I'll have a dollar and fifty cents to put in my bank. When are you coming over?"
"I'll see you soon, my little loan guppy," I say with a giggle of my own. "I miss you so much."
"I miss you, too. Is Uncle Emmett coming, too?"
I hold the phone in shock trying to think of a response when suddenly, I hear Yani's voice in the background, "Okay, Pumpkin, Daddy's waiting for you in the den," she says, taking the pressure off. Unfortunately, it doesn't take away the sting of hearing her call him Uncle Emmett.
"Okay. Bye Auntie Rose."
"Bye, Sweetie. I love you."
"I love you, too." A child's love—so pure and innocent. All you have to do is show them love and they'll love you right back. Why do we get all screwed up when we grow up?
"I'm back—sorry about that. Now tell me what that SOB did," she says reverting back to my no nonsense big sister—so much for my bright day. "You know what? I want to hear this in person. I'm coming over there."
"No…Yani, that's not necessary. I can tell you over the phone...Yani? Shit!" I yell when I realize she's already hung up. I let out a sigh of exasperation. "Oh, well, she's family and she'll have to love me just the way I am."
About a half hour later, there's a knock at my door. Bracing myself for the worst, I open the door and stand there in my not so gently worn PJs with my hair going every which way.
She stands there and rears back to get a better look at me as if she thinks her eyes are deceiving her. "Oh, hell no!" she says as she walks in. I close the door behind her, and when I turn to face her, she's still looking at me in disbelief. "I guess I came just in time. Honey, you need an intervention. Come on." She grabs my hand pulling me with her—no doubt to the bathroom. "I'm going to introduced to your two little friends you apparently haven't seen in a while…soap and water."
"Yani, I'm fine. I promise."
"Girl, you're going to burn in hell telling lies like that. You call this fine?" she says, gesturing to me. "Either you strip down and get in the shower right now, or you're getting in wearing those grungy pajamas—take your pick. Because from the look and smell of it, you both need a serious washing." She frowns, fanning her hand in front of her nose.
"Oh stop exaggerating. I do not stink."
"Oh, yeah? You've just gotten used it. Now get your funky ass in the water!"
"Alright, alright, but can I have a little privacy, please. Despite my appearance, I do know how to take a shower."
"Fine," she says turning away. "And when you take off those pajamas, just stand them in the corner. I'll be back to get them so I can burn them."
"Don't you dare—they're my favorites."
"Yeah…I can see that. And wash that hair, too! You're starting to get dreads," she yells before walking out of the bathroom. I look in the mirror, frantically searching through my hair before it hits me that she was only kidding.
After taking a long hot shower and shampooing my hair, I have to admit I feel like a new woman. I dry off and put on my robe when I notice that my pajamas are gone. I hope I don't go downstairs to find a roaring fire burning in the fireplace. I don't smell a fire, but I do smell something good cooking down there. With my hair still wrapped in a towel, I follow the aroma coming from the kitchen. Yani is preparing the first real meal I've eaten since I've been home.
"You need to go grocery shopping. I found chicken in the fridge, and I put it in the oven," Yani says looking up at me. "Now, that's more like it…so fresh and so clean, clean."
I chuckle at her song reference. "Thanks. I took it out of the freezer yesterday. I was going to cook, but I ordered Chinese instead."
"Yeah, I saw…and pizza and something else I couldn't identify."
"Oh, that was Creole... And why are you going through my trash? What are you…the trash police?"
"I was just taking it out, Silly girl. Now sit down and eat," she says pointing to the plate of food on the table.
"How did you make dinner so quickly? And it looks good, too."
"Why wouldn't it look good? I may not be a master in the kitchen like you and Mama, but I can hold my own, and Rachel Ray's Thirty Minute Meals helps, too. Go ahead and eat and we'll talk when you're done."
I don't respond because it's hard to talk when you're shoveling food in my mouth. "This is delicious, Yani," I say, finally taking a break between bites. "Aren't you going to eat?
"I already ate," she says watching me scarf down my food. I slow down, hoping that she'll forget about having this dreaded conversation, but after my last bite I look up at her and she's waiting expectantly.
"You want to tell me what happened in Chicago?"
I slowly put my fork down, and take my time dabbing the corners of my mouth with my napkin. I take a deep breath and let out a huff. I'm sure it's obvious this isn't a conversation that I want to have, but my sister is nothing if not persistent. She stands up giving me a wayward look before clearing my plate. "While you're stalling, I might as well get this mess cleaned up, but I can spend the night if I have to," she says as she washes the dishes.
"Okay, Yani, you win. Well, you already know that he came to see me in Georgia. He met the family and they all loved him. We stayed at Mama's, and he helped out at the restaurant. Everything was perfect...well, as perfect as it could be at Mama's house. He invited me to spend a few days with him in Chicago where I thought things would get even better, but they took a horrible turn."
"What did he do? He didn't try to force himself on you, did he?" she asks, going into protective mode.
"No, no…I wish," I scoff.
"What the hell does that mean?" she says.
I let out a loud breath before answering, "If anybody did any forcing it was me."
"Huh?"
"I tried to jump his bones, okay? You know…hide the snake in the bush, put it on him, give him some…"
"Okay, okay, I get that part, but what do you mean you tried?"
"Just what I said, I tried but brother-man wasn't having it. He rejected me…big time."
"I knew it! The boy is gay, isn't he?"
"No, Yani—believe me—he's nowhere near gay," I say putting that theory to bed—at least something got put to bed.
"What the hell is wrong with him then? A real man doesn't turn down the cookie, Rose."
"I don't know. Maybe he doesn't like chocolate cookie or maybe Rose is not his… flower of choice," I say with a sad chuckle.
"Damn! You sure he's not gay?"
"Positive. He was all over me in Georgia…I mean he had me feeling things I've never felt before…and that was with clothes on. I can only imagine how it would feel with them off," I say as the memory of us sitting on the bench out back of my mother's restaurant flood my mind. "Anyway, he reeled me in in Georgia but in Chicago he threw me back…humph, sounds like a blues song."
"Yeah, and now you're back in California stinking up the place—what a difference a state makes." We both laugh.
"Wow, we're a regular…Gamble and Huff," I say. "Maybe we should write songs for a living."
"Yeah…we'd make a killing," she says jokingly before her demeanor becomes serious. "Rose, I told you he was no good for you. How many times does he have to break your heart before you close it off to him?"
"Yani, this is why I didn't want to tell you about it. I don't need a lecture. I was going to give myself a few days to wallow a bit before I get myself together and move on."
"Oh, hell no! Wallowing is not an option. You do that shit long enough and you'll end up making it your permanent residence. You've got to pull yourself together now-don't let that man have so much power over you."
"I know, Yani. I just need some time to sort things out and put it all in perspective."
"What is there to sort out, Rosalie? Emmett made his move, and now it's time for you to make yours. You know, when Mama told me how sweet he was to you, and Reggie told me how much he seems to cares about you, I was so happy because I figured he'd finally come to his senses. I was changing my mind about him, and then he goes and pulls some shit like this. Well, it's time to kick his ass to the curb and say, 'next!'," she says in her no bullshit way.
"Who's next, Yani? It's not like I've got 'em waiting in line," I say with a humorless chuckle.
"That's because you don't put yourself out there to meet people. Apparently the gym isn't working out for you—no pun intended, and you certainly don't want to go out with one of your patients. It's bad enough finding out they're crazy after you've dated them for a while. You don't want to start off knowing. But then again, at least they have the guts to get some help. And I don't blame you for not doing the online dating thing. You have no idea who you'll end up with, and some of these guys out here today are crazy as Bessie-bugs."
"What does that expression mean, anyway? Are Bessie bugs really crazy? Maybe I should be treating them." I say, interrupting her and obviously frustrating her. She looks at me and exhales loudly.
"It's just an expression, damn it! Now, stop being a Bessie butt and stop trying to change the subject," she says, emphasizing the word butt. "Call your girls and tell them we're going out this weekend. We're going to find you something sexy to wear, do your makeup real nice, put your hair up, and we're going on a man hunt."
Suddenly, Hall & Oates' Man Eater pops into my head, and I'm tempted to sing, "Oh… here she comes. Watch out boys she'll chew you up" but I know better. She's in serious mode and it would only piss her off more.
"Well, cut off my legs and call me shorty! So that's what I've been doing wrong all this time. I haven't been dressing sexy enough, or putting my hair up or wearing enough makeup. Well, let me run on over to Fredericks of Hollywood to pick me up a little wet look mini skirt and a pair of thigh high boots to match. Maybe I'll even get me a spiked bustier to go along with my spike heels. Oh…and we can't forget the flavored crotchless panties. You think that'll make me sexy enough?"
"Oh, come on, Rose, I'm not talking about a Halloween costume here. Although I kind of like the flavored crotchless panty idea. I'm gonna have to get me some of those."
"Seriously though, Yani, I've been out there on the dating scene for a little while now. I think I'm sexy enough, and I know how to do my hair and makeup—maybe not to your liking—but I do okay, and I still haven't found a man worth the salt that goes in his bread."
"Whoa, you're reaching way down south for some of these sayings. I haven't heard that expression in years." she says, chuckling.
"Well, like you, I've learned a few things from Mama, too. Anyway, I just may have to face the fact that I may never find my Mr. Right. Maybe I should stop thinking long-term relationship and just go for the gusto. So what if he doesn't have the qualities I find important in a man. He has a warm body, and that's all I need, right? Somebody to take the edge off when the feeling hits me," I say.
"That's not you, Rose, and you know it. All I'm saying is that you have to get out there and meet men. Open yourself up a little bit more, and I don't mean your legs…well, actually you could use a little something between those legs right about now."
"Look, if I'm gonna let a man between these legs," I say pointing to the apex of my thighs "He'd better not be coming at me with something little. Homeboy better be packing!" Yani screams out in laughter—the first real laugh I've heard from her tonight.
"Be careful what you wish for, Honey," she says still chuckling. "Remember Johnny Taylor, the guy I dated freshman year?"
"That tall, skinny guy with the pimples and the Gumby hair cut?"
"Well, I didn't date him for his looks, but the boy had one so humongous it felt like he was tearing me apart. I couldn't take it—I had to cut him loose. That's probably why he was so skinny. All of his weight was in his dick."
"Ugh! I just got a visual of that. Can we talk about something else?"
"I'm just saying," she says, shrugging her shoulders with a nonchalant expression. "Anyway, you're way too serious, Rosie. You need to relax a little, be more daring, flirt a little. Let a man buy you a drink—hell…buy him one. Just get the communication going and see where it leads. Yeah…we are definitely going out this weekend. You need some practice—it'll be fun."
"I guess I could ask Alice, and maybe Leah, but I don't know about Bella. She's been giving off weird vibes lately," I tell her.
"Really? What do you mean by weird vibes?"
"She's been distant and short with me lately. I'm starting to wonder if she has a problem with my friendship with Dec."
"Uh-oh, I knew that was a mess waiting to happen."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It's hard for a woman to be best friends with a man. I mean it's okay when you're both single, hanging out, and having a good time together, but the minute you add another woman or man to the equation, that equals trouble. We all know what you and Edward have is perfectly innocent, and I have to admit it's a beautiful thing that you've gone this long without even as much as a kiss. If I were in your shoes, I don't know if I could've been around his fine ass all these years without getting a little taste every once in a while, but hey…you're a better woman than me. We would have been benefriends or bedifriends a long time ago."
"Let me guess," I say laughing. "benefriends are friends with benefits and bedifriends are friends you sleep with?"
"Very good! The second one I came up with myself, so don't try to steal it," she says chuckling.
"Oh, believe me, you're safe," I tell her.
"Speaking of bedifriends, you've been going through a drought for longer than the state of California. Edward is like your reservoir. Why haven't you tapped in to it by now? Ricky and I have wondered about that for years. Why two very attractive, intelligent, wonderful people, who have so much in common, and who obviously love each other have never gotten together?" she says with a very inquisitive expression.
"It's just never been that way with me and Dec. He's my brother from another mother. I knew that we'd be best friends when he went through so much trouble to find me when Daddy died, and then I met the rest of his family and fell in love with them. A little drought relief wasn't worth the risk of losing that."
"I don't know, Rosie. I have a feeling that drought relief would have worked out in your favor. Look, you're smart and sexy—like your big sis," she says, wiggling her shoulders. "And you're making up for lost time. Girl, you would have had Edward's nose so wide open, all he'd be able to smell the scent of Rose…now, that's some good lovin'. Instead of being afraid of losing the Cullens, you would have been one by now.
"I know that you say he's like a brother, but let me give you a little lesson in family law. If you don't share the same genes, it's not incest. But I guess it's too late since Ms. Bella's got her hand in the cookie jar now. And from the looks of it, she ain't sharing."
"Now, let's not jump to conclusions. I just said I'm getting weird vibes from her. I can't say that it's true beyond a shadow of a doubt. In fact, I hope I'm wrong."
"I hope so, too, but instinct is a very powerful thing. It's often the first step in determining probable cause," she tells me.
"All the legal ease makes me feel like I'm in a courtroom. Anyway, there won't be any tasting or tapping going on between me and Dec, so Bella's got nothing to worry about in that area, but we've always said that if either of us gets involved in a serious relationship, the other parties would just have to understand that we're not going anywhere. I love Bella, and I think she's good for Dec, but if she has a problem with our friendship, she's just going to have to get over it."
"You tell her, Sister. Go ahead and put those size fourteens down."
"Oh, shut up! I don't wear a size fourteen," I say, fighting back a laugh.
"Give or take a few inches. But I'm glad to hear that because not only are you too serious, you're also too nice. It's not a bad thing—considering—but you tend to let people walk over you and you've got to stop that."
"I wouldn't go that far, Yani. I'm not walking around with footprints all over my clothes. I'm just more tolerant of people than you are. I'd rather find a peaceful way of dealing with a situation. Now, if that's not possible, you know I will go there, but I try to avoid it.
"You, on the other hand, my militant sister," I say pumping my fist in the air, "are the in your face type whose always ready for a fight. I'll tell ya, I'm Martin Luther King and you're Don King."
"Oh, no, you didn't compare me to Don King."
"Oh, yes I did. I think you were destined to be a lawyer—the loud mouth, argumentative little girl who always had to have the first word and the last one, too…typical middle child."
"Okay, Ms. Freud, I may have Don King's fight, but at least I don't have his hair," she says yanking the towel from my hair and jumping to her feet. Her eyes widen and she gasps, pretending to be frightened by my hair. Actually, she's probably not pretending. I can only imagine how it looks after being wrapped in a towel for so long.
"Give me my towel back, goofy girl, and act your age." I say, lunging for it.
"I'm just having a little fun," she says, laughing and dodging me. We both laugh as we struggle for possession of the towel, and I'm reminded of how much I miss her crazy, fun side. We settle down and she finally relents and gives it back. "We don't do enough of this, you know?"
"Yeah, I know. I forgot how much fun it is hanging out with you."
"Come on, let me help you do something with this fro," she says, making a futile effort to run her fingers through my hair. We go upstairs, and she blow-dries my damp dry hair to straighten it a bit before she combs through it. It brings back memories of her combing my hair when we were kids, only she was rougher back then because Mama made her do it. I close my eyes and take a deep breath letting the feeling of relaxation wash over me.
"You know what, Rosie Posie?" she says quietly as she parts and sections my hair.
I chuckle because it's been a long time since she's called me that. It was Rosie Posie when she was being nice and Nosie Rosie when she was mad at me. "What?" I whisper, enjoying the feeling of the comb gently scratching my scalp.
"I may be the militant one in the family, but I only fight for what I'm passionate about—the people I love. I'll do anything to stop them from hurting." She walks around to face me. "That's why I refuse to let you just fall apart over Emmett Cullen. You're worth so much more than that, and if he can't see it, then he's a damn fool. I know you're hurting right now, and it probably doesn't make you feel better to hear this now, but this is temporal. You're going to rise above this just as you've done all the other obstacles in your life. You mentioned Daddy earlier. His death was hard on all of us, but I know how close you two were and how much harder it was on you. But you got through it, right?"
"I don't know about that. I think about him all the time, and I miss him so much."
"I know you do—I do, too, but you've gone on with your life, knowing that's what he would have wanted."
"I'm trying. I just wish I could have been a better daughter to him."
"Are you kidding me?" she says in disbelief. "You couldn't have been a better daughter to him. I remember waking up early in the morning and seeing the two of you in the kitchen making breakfast together, laughing and talking before he went to work. I would stand on my tiptoes peeking through the little kitchen door window wishing I had that type of relationship with him. He loved you so much."
"He loved you, too, Yani. Why didn't you ever come in and join us? He would have loved that."
"I don't know. That was your time with him, and I didn't want to intrude," she says sadly.
"Well, we spent a lot of time talking about you and Reggie. He was so proud of you, but I'm sure he told you that."
"Yeah…he did," she says with a distant gaze as the corners of her mouth curl up in the beginnings of a smile. She looks at me and continues. "But it feels good to know that he mentioned it to other people, too."
Her smile is contagious, but it quickly disappears with my next thought. "But things changed when I met Garrett…I changed when I met Garrett, especially after what happened."
"Things happen, Rose. Nobody's perfect—not even Daddy," she says, but her solace is wasted on me.
"I know, but I really hurt him, Ya. I regret the day I met Garrett, and I regret what we did even more," I say, lowering my head in shame.
"Listen to me," she commands causing me to look up her. "You were young and inexperienced, and he was your first love. If anyone is to blame, it's that old asshole who talked you into doing something under the guise that it was best for you when he was only thinking of himself."
"But I could have said no. I'm the one who allowed it to happen. Daddy always told us we had the final say in what happens to our bodies, and to not let anybody talk us into doing something we'd regret. Well, I didn't listen, and sometimes I feel like I'm still being punished for it."
"Rosie, we all make mistakes, and we have to deal with the consequences of those mistakes. But what makes you think you're still being punished for something that happened almost twenty years ago?"
"Something that Daddy said when he was in the hospital that last time," I say, struggling as I recall the memory that I've tried to suppress all these years. It was long ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday, and the words still cut me like they did back then.
"What…what did he say?" she stutters, no doubt trying to get ahold of what I just said. I'm sure she's remembering the condition our father was in at that point. He was so weak—it would have taken a miracle for him to even speak—but he did speak that day for the last time.
"It's not important. It was a long time ago," I brush it off, trying to reign in my emotions.
"Oh, yeah? Well, if it's not important then why are you fighting back your tears? Talk to me, Rosie."
I look up at her and the expression on her face tugs at my heart…sincere concern and just… pure love. I decide to share the weight of what I've been carrying around all this time with the one person I know will understand—my sister—my best friend.
I let out a loud sigh before beginning. "Remember that horrible day when Reggie called and told us we'd better come home right away?"
"How could I forget? That was the worst day of my life."
"Well, I caught the first flight out, and I went straight to the hospital. I walked into the ICU and I saw Mama sitting in the chair next to Daddy's bed holding his hand. As I got closer, I could see the shell of the man that Daddy used to be laying there, so weak and frail, and it broke me. I couldn't let him to see me like that, so I stood outside the room trying to pull myself together. Then out of nowhere, Daddy's voice rang out calling Mama's name. It startled me because it was his strong, deep, voice he had before he got so sick. I listened from outside the room as he talked to her. He told her how much he loved her, and that we all were his life. He thanked her for sharing her life with him and for taking care of him, and he apologized for being a burden and for leaving her here alone. Then he told her he only had one regret in his life, and that was that he didn't get the chance to love and spoil his first grandchild. He was talking about my baby, Yani—the baby I didn't allow to live. I caused Daddy the one regret he had in his life when I let them murder my baby. I broke his heart," I say, letting go of the little resolve I had left. I cry, uncontrollably like when I was a little girl, panting desperately trying to catch my breath.
"Breathe, Rosie. Breathe." She tries to comfort me, rubbing circles on my back as she holds me, but it doesn't help. She knows the only thing that will help me is for me to let it out. She continues to hold me, whispering over and over, "It's okay. Just let it out. Let it go." Her words fuel the fire, and I start to bawl, letting out all the pain that's been hiding inside my heart in the form of tears.
"I'm so sorry, Daddy, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," I mumble as I think of the pain and disappointment I caused not only him, but God, my baby, my family, and even me. I feel ashamed for keeping my apologies to myself all this time instead of putting them out into the universe to be heard. Maybe somehow they would have known the remorse I felt if I had said them out loud. Maybe somehow they'd know how much love I have in my heart for them, which is only surpassed by how much I hate myself for what I did. Still in Yani's tight embrace, my body shakes as I speak my apologies through my sobs.
"I'm so sorry for letting them take you away from me. I'm sorry that I missed out on the joy of raising you. I'm sorry that I never got to see your sweet, little face, or feel the tight grip of your tiny hand around my finger. I'm sorry I have to use the word it instead of a name as it should have been, and I'm sorry I deprived you of the love that your grandparents would have lavished on you. I'm so sorry. Forgive me…please forgive me."
When I calm down a bit, Yani releases me and looks into my eyes. "You know, Rosie, that would have been one spoiled baby. Not only Mommy and Daddy, but me and Reggie, too," she says, tears streaming down her cheeks. I know she means well, but it only serves as a reminder of one more thing I'm sorry for, and I begin to cry again. She embraces me and we sob together.
After a while when I feel as though I have no tears left, I pull away and look at her face—her puffy, raccoon eyes encircled by smeared mascara, her runny nose, and I just know that I'm a mirror image of her. She goes to get a box of tissues and hands it to me. I take a few and blow my nose loudly and, not thinking, I hand them back to her.
"Uh uh, I'm not touching your booger-filled snot rag. I don't love you that much," she says, making me laugh—some much needed comic relief. She does the same, and takes mine and her used tissue to the trash. When she comes back, we sit in silence for a while. Finally, she speaks, "Rosie, sometimes we say hurtful things in difficult situations that we really don't mean, and unfortunately, we don't always get the chance to make it right. I don't think Daddy meant what he said, and if he had any idea that you heard him and that it would still be affecting you this way, he would have fixed it. My God, you heard him tell Mama that we were his life, and I'm sure he would have given that life for any one of us. How do you think he'd feel, knowing that you're not living yours to the fullest because of something he said?
"I think the real issue here, Rosie, is that you haven't forgiven yourself. You've asked for forgiveness. Now you've got to forgive yourself," she says. I was wrong about there being no tears left because they begin again. She hugs me as she continues, and I can tell from the trembling in her voice that she's crying, too. "This has been tearing you apart all these years, and I haven't been there for you. Sweetie, I'm so sorry that I wasn't a better sister. I should have been there for you. But it's time to let it all go. The only way this wound will ever heal is if you let it go."
When the tears dry up yet again, and my eyes feel like they have sand in them, I sit up to stretch out my spine. We sit in silence for another moment or two before she breaks it again—she could never be quiet for any length of time.
"Rosie, does Mama know about this?"
"No and please don't tell her." I plead.
"She needs to know what you heard. She'd be so hurt to know how you've been feeling all this time."
"That's why I don't want her to know. The last thing I want to do is bring back the pain of those last days."
"It's been over ten years. I'm sure she can handle it. Did you hear anything else?"
"That was all I could stand to hear. I was such a mess after that, and I ran off to the restroom to pull myself together. When I got back, Reggie was with them."
"Rosie, we've got to tell her. I'll be here with you when you talk to her. Let's call her now."
"Why is it so important to you that I tell her? She's been through enough, Ya, I don't want to rehash it."
"I can't tell you why. I just have a very strong feeling about this."
"But I wouldn't even know how to broach the subject."
"Don't worry about that. I'll help you. Do I have your permission to call?"
I drop my head and take several deep breaths before looking up at her again. I don't have the energy to fight her about it. "Okay, make the call."
She dials the number and puts the phone on speaker. After it rings three times, I'm relieved when she doesn't pick up, but on the fourth ring, she answers.
"Hello," she sings in her jovial sweet voice.
"Hi Mama."
"Yani?"
"Yes and Rose is with me. We have you on speaker," she says.
"What are you two doing together this late on a week night?"
"I came over for dinner," she says, lying to our mother. But it's better than saying I came over because Rose was in a catatonic stupor.
"Mama, Rose and I have something we need to talk to you about."
"Okay…what is this about?" she asks in a suspicious tone.
"It's about Daddy," she says, pausing for a reaction I guess. When she doesn't get one, she continues. "When Daddy was in the hospital, just before he died, he came to and told you some things, didn't he?"
"Yes, how…how did you know about that?" my mother says, obviously thrown.
"Rosie was there, Mama, and she heard what Daddy said to you."
"What?" she says in an exasperated whisper.
I jump into the conversation to explain what happened. "I wasn't trying to pry or anything, Mama. Reggie warned me that Daddy was in bad shape, so he was supposed to meet me at the hospital so we could walk in together, but he was late. I waited for a while, but I needed to see him. When I got to the nurse's station in the center of the ICU, I could see you sitting there holding Daddy's hand. As I walked toward you and got a closer view, I realized why Reggie didn't want me to walk in alone, and I got choked up. I stood outside the doorway trying to pull myself together when I heard Daddy's voice. Not the weak, quiet voice of a sick man, but Daddy's deep, strong, healthy voice."
"Yes, Baby, I remember that. I think God gave your daddy that last bit of strength to make sure I could hear everything he had to say. I knew the Lord would be taking him home soon after that," she says.
"Mama, I heard Daddy say that his only regret was that he didn't get a chance to love his first grandchild."
"Yes, Baby, he did say that," she says as my eyes find a way to make more tears.
"I broke his heart, Mama, and he carried that to his grave. I can't forgive myself for that—I'm so sorry," I say as the sobs begin again.
Realizing that I have nothing left, Yani takes over. "Mama, Rosie has been carrying around this guilt all these years. She didn't want to tell you about it because she didn't want to cause you more pain, but I really felt you needed to know what she's been going through."
"Of course, Baby, I'm glad you told me. Rosie, what else did you hear?"
"That was it," I manage to say. "I was so upset that I ran out. When I came back, Reggie was in the room with you. I walked in and kissed Daddy's cheek like I always did. He looked up at me and smiled and then he closed his eyes. The next day, he was gone."
"First of all, Yani, I believe God placed it on your heart to tell me this. Rosie, listen to me, Baby. You didn't break your Daddy's heart. His regret was that he broke yours."
"What do you mean?" I say through my tears.
"I wish you had heard everything he said. You know, I thought that God gave Daddy the strength to speak so that I could hear what he had to say, but it was you who needed to hear him. He knew that you were standing there and that's why his voice was so loud and strong," she says as if she's just had a revelation. "Your father knew that he was too hard on you. He loved that you loved him so much and that you tried to be perfect for him, but he also knew that was too much pressure to put on you. He blamed himself for making you feel you couldn't come to him and tell him that you were pregnant. If you hadn't felt like you had to be the perfect daughter, maybe you would have made a different decision.
That was his regret…that he didn't give you room to grow and to make mistakes. Yes, he was hurt when he found out about the abortion—we both were because we would have loved that baby with all our hearts, but we got over it. He wanted you to know that he could never stop loving you no matter what you did, and he was so proud of you. And he hated that he never made that clear to you. So, Baby, if you've asked the Lord to forgive you, then it's done. Now, you need to work on forgiving yourself. Because as far as your Daddy is concerned, there was nothing to forgive," she says, her voice cracking as she speaks. I know she's trying to hold back her tears, but I can't and neither can Yani.
"Thank you, Mama," I say, sobbing.
"It's okay, Baby. You let all of that go, now. It's too much weight for you to carry," she tells me. "Yani?"
"Yes, Mama," she says, sniffling.
"I'm glad you're there with your sister. You take care of each other, you hear?
"Always, Mama…she'll be fine."
"I know she will. I'm gonna go to bed now, but I'll see you both real soon."
"Oh, yeah…the anniversary party!" Yani says, her excitement blotting away some of the sadness. I get excited, too.
"Yes, I'm looking forward to it more than ever, now," I say.
"Me, too. Good night, my girls. I love you both very much."
"We love you, too, Mama," we both say in unison before we hang up.
I take a deep breath and I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders. I look at Yani and if she looks this bad, I can only image how I look. "I'm sorry I've been a blubbering mess tonight."
"Join the club, Girl. I know I look like who done what to who. I'd scare the kids if I walked in the house looking like this."
"You could stay here tonight… if you want," I qualify, but I really hope that she stays.
"You know, maybe I will. I'm too tired to drive home, anyway. Let me call Ricky—I'm sure he can handle the kids in the morning."
"Okay, I'll put some fresh sheets on the bed in the guest room," I say, standing up.
"For what? I'm no guest. There's plenty of room for both of us in this big California King Bed. Besides, we slept in the same bed when we were kids, and what was that…a queen?"
"No, I think it was a full, but we didn't care about that back then."
"Not as long as you kept your Popsicle toes on your side," she says.
"Daddy used to say I had Popsicle toes," I say, sadly.
"I know—I'm sorry. I remembered that as soon as I said it—your Popsicle toes and my oven baked hands—he was so descriptive and so funny."
"I know. For a split second there, the guilt tried to creep in, but I remembered what Mama said and it helped," I tell her.
"You'll just have to keep reminding yourself until it gets deeply rooted inside you. Then you'll be able to look back on all the good times we had together and enjoy those memories—guilt-free."
"Yeah…I look forward to that. Thank you, Yani," I say with so much love and gratitude.
"For what?"
"For being my sister/ best friend/ therapist…my SBFT."
"You're welcome. Now, let's see what movies you have in your collection. Maybe we can stay awake long enough to watch one."
"Okay, you want some popcorn? You know we can't watch a movie without popcorn."
"You know me too well. Do you have a bottle of wine? I think we could both use a big gulp right about now."
We go to the kitchen and I start the pop popcorn. I pull out a bottle of wine and two wine glasses and place them on the counter. "Give me those," she says, taking the glasses and putting them back in the cabinet. She pulls down two thirty-two ounce big gulp plastic cups instead. "I said we need big gulps."
"Oh, I thought you meant big gulps as in like…big swallows."
"Uh-uh," is all she says as she looks at me from the corner of her eye. We take the wine, two big gulp cups and a big bowl of popcorn up to my room. After we wash our faces and Yani slips into one of my gowns that's long enough for two of her—she got our mother's height and I got our Dad's—we crawl into the middle of my bed and start the movie. I pour her some wine, but she just looks at me with her hand still extended, tilting her cup. Finally, she says, "I said a big gulp for a reason. After the night we've had, I need to feel the buzz."
"Don't you have to work tomorrow?" I ask her.
"And?" She says, giving me that sideways look again.
"Okay, but you're going to be sorry in the morning." I sing as I split the entire bottle between us.
"That's more like it, "she says as she takes a gulp and swallows loudly. "Are you going back to work tomorrow?" she asks.
"No, I think I'll take one more day."
"Okay, Rosie, but the next day, you're taking your ass back to work. The longer you wait, the harder it'll be to go back."
"I'm not taking another downer day. I just want to enjoy one last day before I go back…maybe get a mani-pedi."
"Oh, Girl, I wish I could join you. Well, I'm glad you're doing something that will make you feel better—no more wallowing. In fact, we should make that our mantra…The Hale girls…we don't wallow…we swallow," she says taking a big swig of her wine.
"Speak for yourself, Ms. Freaky deaky."
"I meant the wine, Perverta. Why does everything have to have a sexual overtone with you? We really need to find you a man with a big dick to bring your mind out of the gutter."
"I'll drink to that," I say as I take a big gulp from my Big Gulp. Already feeling the warmth of the wine travel throughout my body, I lift my cup for a toast. "Here's to a big dick and a clean mind."
"Hear, hear!" she says as we clang our big plastic cups together, doubling over in laughter. I love my sister.
