Loose Ends Part 10

As we ate our meals, there was more conversation, mostly from Brice.

"How's your food?" he asked.

"It's okay," I said without looking up at him.

"Just okay? See, you should have ordered what I told you to." I did look up at him after that comment. Brice was smiling.

At one point, I had gotten salad dressing on the side of my face, above my mouth. Brice leaned over and started to wipe it off with his fingers, then proceeded to lick it off.

"No, I got it," I shouted, a little too loudly. I quickly picked up the nearest napkin. His touch was bringing back too many memories.

"Here, let me get it. You still don't have it all."

"Brice, stop, I'll do it!"

Brice reclined back in his seat and looked at me with raised eyebrows. "Mia, I thought you were more comfortable and relaxed with me by now. I don't bite, baby. A man can change, you know. Ask my wife. Ask Kree. I touch her with love."

"Brice, it's not even like that. Just don't-"

"Oh, so you are comfortable with me? Then why can't you even look me in the eyes when you speak to me? Why is it that every time I'm close to you, you flinch? You think I haven't noticed that? At one point, I knew you better than you knew yourself. Knew you like I know the back of my hand. Why is it that a simple act of wiping food from your mouth makes you freak out? Explain that."

"Why does it matter how I feel about you? It doesn't matter. We are history. End of story. It ended the last time you beat the s.h.i.+t out of me. Remember? Or how soon we forget." I felt my temper rising.

Brice leaned forward in his seat. "I want to make it up to you. I know I hurt you, Mia, and I'm terribly sorry."

"You owe me nothing. You don't have to make anything up to me either. I'm happy with my life the way it is. Christian makes my heart sing-something you were unable to do. I love Christian with all my heart and soul."

"Touche. I know that, and I'm truly happy for you and Christian. He's a good man."

"I know."

Brice nodded his head in amus.e.m.e.nt, gulped down the last of his beer and signaled the waiter for another.

"Mia, I know you said, with much pa.s.sion, that you didn't miss me, but I believe you did." Brice looked me over with an arrogant expression and said, "Yeah, I know you did."

"Think whatever you want, Brice; that's your prerogative," I stated nonchalantly.

"Do you want to know how I know?" he boldly asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm sure you will enlighten me."

"I thought about you a lot over the years, what we had. How good we were together."

"Ummph."

"No, hear me out, Mia. Of course, I couldn't say all this the other evening, but I've missed you. I miss touching your spot and feeling you cream from my touch, from just my hand. I miss feeling and seeing your nipples swell and respond to my tongue and mouth. I miss your warmth when I touched you between your spread legs, and I miss hearing you call out my name so softly like you used to do in the throes of pa.s.sion. 'Brice, oh, Brice. Oh, baby.' Remember that? Just knowing I was the one giving you all that pleasure . . . Your eyes would glaze over, your legs would start trembling, and I'd know you were there . . . Yes, I miss all that. You were so giving."

I had heard enough! "Brice, I'm outta here. You are a freaking piece of work! You claim to be Christian's friend, but you are such a lying f.u.c.ker. The nerve of you. I don't want to hear this s.h.i.+t! What is all this BS you're proclaiming? What about Christian? Talk about all the times you beat me down, talk about my black eyes, my bruises, my broken wrist-remember that. Well, I can't forget. Talk about that! Yeah, talk about that s.h.i.+t!" I said in a low, menacing voice between clenched teeth. I stood up from the table, ready to book.

"Mia, calm the f.u.c.k down! You didn't let me finish," he demanded, roughly grabbing my arm. "See, you are still running from me. Sit down, Mia! Please. As I was saying, I know I did you wrong, very wrong. I'm not proud about that time in my life. You were my woman and I hurt you. Badly. Believe me, I'm happy that you're happy. And I'm very happy with Kree. She's the woman I always needed in my life. Kree knows how to please me."

Brice left the and you didn't part hanging in the air, unspoken.

I sat there with a frown on my face and stared at him. I rubbed and ma.s.saged my wrist where he had grabbed it. I'd probably have a small bruise.

Shortly afterward lunch ended, and Brice insisted on paying the bill. He refused to take my money. After walking me safely to my car, which he insisted on doing, Brice gently kissed me on my left cheek, right above my lips, before I had the chance to object, and thanked me for having lunch with him. He told me to tell Christian h.e.l.lo and that he would call him soon. But I would never mention this lunch with Brice to Christian.

As I watched him walk away, so arrogant, confident and determined, I realized I was excited. Dampness. Wetness. Throbbing. My nipples, straining against my top, were hard as rocks underneath my halter top. d.a.m.n. My one weakness had just walked off into the sunset. Trouble had reentered my life. He had already changed my world once.

Christian Today was like one of those days you see on postcards-picture-perfect. Deep, rich blue sky without a cloud in sight, greenery everywhere the eyes could see, birds chirping in the trees, fragrant flowers in bloom. Kids out riding their bikes and scooters, shouting to each other, having a great time. Just a picture-perfect summer day.

It was a few days after the first of July, roughly a month since the get-together. The Fourth of July had come and gone with no great fanfare. My clan and I decided to rise and s.h.i.+ne and attend morning service at Bowler Rock Baptist Church. One of my employees, Joseph Webber, had been inviting me to visit for months now.

Every Sunday, something else always comes up-namely, sleep. I admit, my family definitely needs to do the church thing more often. Most definitely. As it is now, once a month is the norm. Most Sunday mornings find Mia and me wrapped up in each other's arms after late-night through early-morning lovemaking sessions.

I know my moms is rolling over in her grave, because when I was growing up, I was in church every Sunday with her, sitting in the front pew. She'd place Randy, my older brother, and me in the first or second pew and would head up to the choir stand. Moms had a beautiful voice, like an angel, and would occasionally lead songs. I used to love to hear her sing. I miss that so much. I miss her. Yeah, those were the days.

However, things change. Events change a person-they change your total philosophy and take on life. And a lot of times, we never see it happening. It's such a gradual change that it becomes a part of our core being without our ever noticing. My moms died; before that, my brother was shot and killed. I felt like G.o.d had let me down. If he could let bad things happen to good people . . . well, there wasn't a need for church and spirituality.

Now, with a family and child of my own and after experiencing and seeing a lot more in my life, I was feeling a strong push to gain back that feeling that church had brought to me in my youth. Peace, serenity and comfort.

Bowler Rock Baptist Church was our site of praise that morning. Service started promptly at eleven A.M. Mia, Lyric and I had a wonderful time. The church flock welcomed us with open arms. We felt genuine warmth and hospitality that morning. Bowler Rock was under the direction and leaders.h.i.+p of Reverend s.h.i.+pler.

Reverend s.h.i.+pler appeared to be in his mid-forties or so, medium build, clean cut, and the members of the church adored him. The church itself was traditional brick and still had that old-time, Southern-charm feel to it. It hadn't grown too large, too prosperous or too arrogant that the real purpose had been forgotten. That was the problem with many African American churches in the community. With everybody hugging, kissing, smiling and welcoming us, we felt right at home.

That morning, the reverend spoke of the power of prayer. In his thunderous voice, a voice that embodied a spirit wise beyond his years, he spoke of how society had forgotten how to fall down on its knees and pray. When prayers go up, blessings come down. Our parents and grandparents knew the power of prayer. h.e.l.l, a lot of us are still around today because somebody prayed for us. Prayed for our well-being and protection.

As I listened to his message, his charismatic ba.s.s voice put me into a trancelike state. I glanced around at the congregation responding and holding on to his every word and gesture. There were a lot of amens and hallelujahs being shouted! The beautiful, graceful mothers and the stately deacons, sitting in their special corners, had years of wisdom and knowledge amongst them.

I looked over at Mia in her pretty pink dress, looking like a beautiful angel herself, with Lyric asleep in her lap with a tiny smile on her puckered lips. I realized how truly blessed I was. I had done things, shameful things, in my earlier years. Yet, here I was with a woman for whom I'd die and a daughter who was my heart. I lowered my head and silently thanked G.o.d for my many blessings.

Reverend s.h.i.+pler began to end his message while the choir was softly singing "Stand" in the background. I realized that my prayers regarding Brice had been answered as well. I truly needed-or should I say, wanted-my partner in my life, and it seemed like that was coming together as well. And if I decided to go into business with him . . . Yet, I couldn't get over my uneasiness over the entire situation. I had a nagging feeling about whether I had made the right decision.

After telling Joseph and his family good-bye and how much we enjoyed the service, Mia and I finally made it to the truck, hand in hand, with Lyric sound asleep on my shoulder. Being in a different environment with overstimulation had tired her out. Lyric had been out for the count since church service began. We decided to stop by and say h.e.l.lo to Vivica, Brice's mom. I hadn't been over since that time with Brice, and, according to him, Vivica had been asking about me and requesting that Mia visit as well.

Upon our arrival, laughter and delicious, mouthwatering soul-food smells met us at the front door. We had already seen Brice's Volvo parked out front. Our intentions were to say h.e.l.lo and stay for only a few minutes. We didn't want to intrude. Of course, Vivica was not having that. Before we could even ring the doorbell a second time, Brice answered with a big smile on his face.

He screamed into the house: "Moms, you are not going to believe who the cat just dragged in!" He moved out of the way so that we could enter the small foyer.

By now, Vivica was walking out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel hanging from her waistband. "Brice, who's at the door?"

When she got to the doorway and saw us, Vivica was overjoyed, to say the very least. There was so much hugging and kissing going on that you would have thought we had won the Georgia lottery or something. But that's Vivica, a loving, caring, genuine person. She was always like a second mom to me. All my maternal feelings for her rushed back full force.

"Mia, come here, girl, and let me look at you. You look good, baby! Happy! Ohhh, and is this the baby?" Vivica asked as she gently took Lyric from me who was now fully awake and looking around.

Vivica didn't even wait for a response. "Christian, are you sure you didn't spit this child out? G.o.d, she's the spitting image of you," she said with a laugh in her voice.

Mia was smiling, but subdued. Occasionally she'd glance over at Brice. Brice was silently standing there, taking it all in. When Mia took my hand in hers, I knew she was uncomfortable.

"Y'all come on in here, and Brice, close that door. I'm so happy to see y'all. Come here; give me another hug!"

It started all over again. When we finally got settled, Vivica took Lyric to an upstairs bedroom to finish her nap. Brice's dad was upstairs napping as well. We found Kree sitting in the living room, flipping through an Ebony magazine. Ol' girl barely even acknowledged our presence. No, to be honest, she didn't seem that thrilled to see us, especially Mia. Women are a trip.

"Hi, Kree. What's up, baby girl?" I asked, making my way over to the sofa where she was sitting.

Kree finally put down the magazine, by which she seemed to be so enthralled, and looked up for more than a few seconds. Mia had made her way over to a wing chair as far away from Kree as she could get and pretended to be into the game on the TV.

"Hey, Christian," she said with a s.e.xy smile. "And Mia. Where are you guys coming from or going to all dressed up?" Mia looked Kree's way, but didn't answer her question.

"We just got out of morning church service. We were over at Bowler Rock Baptist Church."

"Me and Brice need to find a church to attend every Sunday. But you know Brice . . ."

Brice took that opportunity to walk back into the den.

"You know Brice what?" he asked out of curiosity. He looked from Kree and then back to me.

Kree looked a bit nervous as she glanced over at Brice.

"I was just telling Christian . . . and Mia that we need to find a church to attend, but you're not big on church."

"Yeah, you got that right. I'm not about to give my hard-earned money to some so-called high-and-mighty preacher so he can buy a larger home or a more expensive car. h.e.l.l, no."

Mia was still sitting quietly, watching the game. She didn't even turn around when Brice reentered.

"Mrs. Pope, Mrs. Antisocial, I didn't know you were a sports buff. When did this amazing miracle occur?" Brice asked, moving closer to her and focusing his full attention in her direction.

"I watch sports . . . sometimes. If I didn't, I wouldn't spend any time with my husband during baseball, football or basketball seasons. There are many things you don't know about me." She crossed and then uncrossed her silky legs.

Brice still made her uncomfortable, and sometimes I thought my man got amus.e.m.e.nt out of doing so. Not that he did it intentionally. Their history together-our history together-made it uncomfortable for Mia. I felt that, in time, it would pa.s.s, though.

"Well, Kree knows to stay out of my way when sports are on. She doesn't know a d.a.m.n thing about any of the games, and her silly-a.s.s questions drive me crazy. It gets on my d.a.m.n nerves. I don't have time to explain every play. She's around for the halftime entertainment."

Brice glanced in Kree's direction and she gave him this look-this evil as h.e.l.l look.

"Isn't that right, baby?"

"Yeah, that's right. Excuse me, I'm going to see if Mama Vivica needs any help in the kitchen." Kree hurried out. When she pa.s.sed Brice, he playfully slapped her on the a.s.s. She threw him that evil look again, but Brice just laughed.

"Did I miss something? No, man, just forget Kree. Don't pay her any attention. She's PMS-ing, tripping or something. We had an argument earlier and she's still p.i.s.sed. She'll get over it," Brice said without any concern in his voice.

Mia turned and looked at him. A few minutes later, she excused herself to go check on Lyric upstairs.

"You'd better chill, man. You ran the women away. I told you about those crazy-a.s.s male-chauvinist statements."

"Yeah, whatever! They'll both get over it, and if not . . ."

Brice retrieved the remote from the mahogany coffee table. He turned up the volume, flopped down on the sofa, and, before you knew it, Brice and I sat back and enjoyed the rest of the game on the tube. Vivica brought in some iced tea and we were in heaven until dinnertime.

Brice The game was just about ending when Moms called us to the dinner table. That was cool, because the game wasn't even close; the Atlanta Braves blew the Cincinnati Reds away. I smiled a big s.h.i.+t-eating grin as I retrieved my twenty dollars from Christian and made a big, dramatic display of placing it in my wallet. I couldn't help but boast that he shouldn't bet with a pro; I knew my sports.

Moms was like, "Wash your hands and come and eat," as if we were little children or something. Anyway, the smells coming from the kitchen were getting to me. Tantalizing smells. My stomach was growling, flip-flopping, and doing all sorts of s.h.i.+t. I loved to eat my moms's cooking. She could throw down in the kitchen. Kree was a pretty good cook, but she couldn't touch my moms. Close, but no trophy.

I'd heard them earlier, Kree, Mia and Moms, in the kitchen talking back and forth. I couldn't make out what had been said, but it sounded like Moms was doing most of the talking. I'm sure that was an interesting conversation, very interesting. I wish I had been a fly on the wall. It was kinda funny, actually. I don't think I've ever had two women together, knowingly, with whom I've been intimate. That, by itself, was a trip.

I was glad Kree's mood had improved, because I was sick and tired of her bad att.i.tude when she couldn't get her way. I give her an inch, she wants two inches more. I had finally agreed to let her work in the business with me . . . on a part-time basis, because she was supposedly so bored at home.

This way, Kree could leave work around one o'clock or so every day and have my dinner ready by the time I arrived home. I did need help with some of the administrative and office tasks. Kree was good at stuff like that. She even came in and gave the place a woman's touch with the plants and framed artwork she had purchased. Real homey and warm.

However, that isn't good enough for baby girl. Kree wants to work full-time. h.e.l.l, no! h.e.l.l to the no! Now she was p.i.s.sed and silently sulking. And she had better silently sulk; she knows better than to keep riding me about it. I don't play that s.h.i.+t, and she definitely knows that.

Dinnertime was cool! Just like I thought, Moms threw down. She really outdid herself. We sat down to a baked ham, crunchy fried chicken, seasoned collard greens, fried creamed corn, black-eyed peas, mouthwatering corn bread, potato custard and iced tea. This was her typical Sunday meal.

My pops, when he was younger and healthier, had a hearty, robust appet.i.te. So back in the day, he expected a real soul-food meal on Sundays, usually right after church service. Moms never gave up the habit. She still cooks as if she's cooking for an army of people on Sundays. Leftovers are given to a few of the elderly who live on their block. Sometimes, the pastor and his wife come over and have dinner after church service.

We all gathered in the formal dining room, around the mahogany table, held hands, bowed our heads, and Moms led us in a quick prayer to bless the food she had prepared. She also gave thanks that we were all together, as family. That's what's important to her; that we come together as family. The ladies had brought all the food in from the kitchen, placed it on the table, and we sat down to a hearty feast and lively conversation.

Kree and myself sat on the right side of the table with Mia and Brice directly across from us. Moms was seated at the head of the table. Pops's spot was painfully vacant. Moms didn't want to wake him, since he was sleeping soundly.

Pops was still having very restless and fretful nights. Wednesday, I had plans to accompany Moms to visit his doctor to find out what was really going on with him. As it is, I don't know my old man anymore. He's a sh.e.l.l of the man I used to know and sometimes feared. At times, I don't think he even recognizes me. That's the tragedy of his disease.

At first, all you could hear was the sound of forks and spoons clanking on plates as dishes were being pa.s.sed around and everyone began to dig in. Moms had this huge smile on her face, like this was the ideal scene for her.

"So, Kree, Brice tells me that you work with him for part of the day now." Everyone's attention focused on Kree.

"Yes, Mama Vivica. I've been doing it for a couple of weeks now, and it's working out okay. It gives me time to make it home and get dinner cooked by the time Brice walks through the door," she answered in between bites.

"That's good. You said you were getting bored sitting around at home all the time. I know what you mean; it can get old real fast."

Kree shook her head in agreement and looked out the corner of her eye at me.

"And what about you, Mia? What have you been up to for your summer break?" Moms asked to bring Mia into the conversation.

"Not much of anything, to be truthful. On the days when Lyric doesn't go over to Mama's house, we hang out at the park or Chuck E. Cheese's or just do whatever. Christian works such crazy hours, so he's never home."

"I remember those days well. I used to look forward to my summers. Sometimes I would take cla.s.ses at Georgia State to keep abreast of things, but most of the time I played homemaker, wife and referee. Brice and Christian were always up to something or another." Her eyes glazed over and she laughed at the memory.

"Moms, me and Christian weren't that bad!"

"Yeah, right, my memory hasn't left yet. Y'all were always into some mess, usually involving some girl or girls."

Kree and Mia just looked at each other knowingly and smiled. Actually, it was one of the first genuine smiles I'd seen Kree direct at Mia. I don't know what Moms talked to them about earlier in the kitchen, but it had made an impact. The ice-princess persona Kree directed toward Mia was slowly but surely melting. I saw Mia catch my eye and look quickly down into her lap.

"Moms, you're right, Brice was always dragging me into some scheme or another. I was always an innocent bystander who got caught up and sucked in. I'd end up taking the fall with him."

"Yeah, right. Tell that lie to someone who believes you."

Everybody laughed at that because they knew better. Needless to say, Christian's and my reputations preceded us in the local community. Older men and women in the neighborhood still remembered and told tales about our adventures-or should I say misadventures.