Why Not Us?, page 29
“It’s called Ashwagandha. It’s very good for several things, most importantly stress. I’ve been drinking it for a couple weeks now. Drink up and wait an hour, you’ll feel calmer.”
I glanced at Jasmine.
She lifted her cup toward me. “Cheers.”
I scrunched my nose and lips at her.
“I have to check in at Charity,” Leslie said. “I have an appointment on Monday with Dr. Jordan.” She quickly caught us up on her treatment plan, then added, “She came to see me, and we’ve had video conferences with the research team. Technology is amazing, it felt like the Jetsons in there sometimes.”
“So, what’s next?” Jasmine wanted to know.
“The infusions have really targeted the cancer cells and not made me as sick. Bonus! There may be one more chemo adjustment on the horizon, but it’s looking good, family.” She raised her arms triumphantly.
Jasmine got up to hug Leslie. “We have a lot to be thankful for.”
They hugged and hugged—I knew their tears would start soon. And I could barely see them through my own.
Chapter 53
Jasmine
I started planning a night away after I overheard Ruth mention to another staff member that schools were going to be closed the next day for professional development. That meant T had a little flex time before she needed to be at school in the morning. Leslie was able to drive again so she would do the morning drop-off and then I’d get Portia as usual after school.
I called in a prepared food order from the gourmet grocery store down the street from St. Josephine’s. I could pick up my order and place it in a picnic basket before T got home. Lastly, I sent T a text that said, “Date night begins at six. Be dressed to impress.” She was almost dressed by the time I got home.
“You look nice, smell good, you clean up real well, Ms. Butler,” I said, walking into our bedroom and moving closer to her.
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” She leaned in to kiss me on the cheek.
“You are so silly.”
“So where are we heading on this very impromptu date night. Who’s going to be here with Leslie and Portia?”
“I think they’ll be okay overnight.”
“Overnight? What do you have planned?”
“You have a professional day tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah?” She was skeptical.
“So, you have a little flexibility in getting to work. You’ll see. We’re going out for the evening.”
“Do I need a toothbrush?”
“I have everything you need for a memorable evening, ma’am.” I dropped my voice to a sultry octave.
“Don’t write no checks you can’t cash, Ms. Charles. You’ve been tired a lot lately.”
“True that, and I had a large coffee around two o’clock. So...” I winked. “Let’s go.”
“Well, well, I’m following you.”
By the time I took the familiar roads heading to Bolton Hill, T was more than curious as to what was going on.
“Are we going to the studio? Jasmine, what are you up to?”
“I thought we could have a little picnic and talk or something.” I blew a kiss before getting out of the car in front of T’s studio. I went to the trunk for the overnight bags I’d packed and placed in there earlier. The bags were loaded with all our favorites, seafood entrees, crab dip, spinach and avocado dip, feta and blueberry salad, and more snacks and flavored lemonades than she would drink.
T came around the car to help carry the bags. “Oh, my, look at you. What’s in here?”
“I told you, everything you’d need for the evening.”
“Alrighty, let’s get this party started.” T did a little dance.
I hadn’t seen that smile in a long time, not one that was easy and unburdened. T headed up the steps, unlocked the door, and had turned off the alarm by the time I finished pulling the remaining bags from the trunk. I told T to go up and get comfortable with what I had packed in the bag for her, then made quick work of setting a tablecloth over a blanket on the living room floor. I lit candles around the room and lastly threw a few pillows on the floor for support. By the time T came back downstairs, I had glasses out for drinks with cheeses and crunchies.
“What can I do to help?”
I handed her the remote to find us some music. She selected some hard rap with lyrics that started with “Hit it, hit it” and started laughing.
“Really, that’s what you see here?” I gestured to the floor.
“If I’m lucky,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows and grinning.
“Seriously, give me that.” I found a slow Grover Washington, Jr., tune. “Let’s start here. I’m going to run upstairs and get comfortable too. I’ve set a few things out for your pleasure.”
“Yes, ma’am. I see that. I’m looking forward to your return.”
I gave T a long slow luscious kiss on her lips, sucking the bottom one into my mouth, traveled to her cheek, and stopped at her neck.
“Oh, my.” She swallowed. “Yes, please return soon.”
I palmed her ass. “Be right back.”
It took all of fifteen minutes to take my clothes off, hop in the shower, and put on a new two-piece lingerie set. I giggled as I pulled the tags off. I couldn’t remember wearing anything sexy the entire past year—this would be a nice change of pace. I took a last look and did a quick figure eight with my hips. If she played her cards right, I would be doing a little more of this motion. I chuckled to myself and headed back to the kitchen to take the remaining food to the living room.
“Hmmm, looks good,” T said as I came back and joined her.
“I know, right? All our favorites.”
“I wasn’t talking about the food.”
My face hurt from smiling. We needed this. We had been drinking water from a firehose since Leslie’s diagnosis. T and I lounged, snacked, and kissed for what seemed like hours.
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome. My pleasure.” I kissed T again.
“This was nice and much needed.”
“Baby, thank you. I couldn’t have managed any of this last year without you. You’ve been there even when people related by blood came up short. I know it wasn’t easy.”
T listened.
“I understood...mostly...when you needed time away,” I continued. “Trust, I didn’t sign up for the care we gave either, but I’m glad we did. Our chosen family was wonderful. Your cousins, your parents, Stephanie, and John. I’m grateful for all of them. I’m thinking Christmas will feel a bit more hopeful this year.”
“I think so. It seems like either we’ve become veterans at this caregiving thing, or the situation just doesn’t feel or look as bleak.”
“I agree. We’ve been taking care of everyone else. I thought tonight we could take care of each other.”
“Do tell, what do you have in mind?”
“I can show you better than I can tell you. Follow me.” I started walking to the steps leading upstairs to the bedroom.
“Following you, yes, ma’am...immediately. I’m blowing out these candles.”
Chapter 54
T
One afternoon before Christmas I got out the pictures I had taken of Leslie over the past year and began to review them. The difference a year made! You could see the worry and illness despite feigned smiles. I loved some of the more candid pictures of her with her head wrap off. There were at least two dozen pictures taken since Leslie’s discharge the previous month. You could see the sparkle and joy in her eyes. She looked more relaxed and the shots with her looking lovingly at Portia were some of the best photos I’d taken in a long time. And I’d been glad to hear from Jasmine that Dr. Jordan hoped Leslie would get to ring the bell signaling the end of her treatment by next year.
The pictures I’d taken of Portia really showed how much she had grown. The year before, she had been maybe chest-high to Jasmine and now in recent pictures, she stood as tall as Jasmine’s shoulders, making it clear she was going to take height from her father. I had taken snapshots of basketball games, of Portia making the wood racks, vending at the farmers’ market, as well as shots of her at the ReBuild holiday party and the breast cancer walk.
A few days later, after going through all my photos, I had one of them enlarged on canvas—the light and balance were perfect—to give to Leslie as a future housewarming gift when she returned to her condo. It felt good to be back in a creative frame of mind, participating again in Kevin’s monthly gallery exhibits, getting requests from other nonprofits needing photography services, and fielding interest calls from my “Transformation” series. With all this, life was busy. One of the organization tables we had visited during the breast cancer walk had also contacted me about using a few butterfly pictures for their magazine. Things were looking up.
***
Before my parents arrived for Christmas, Mom called to discuss their travel itinerary. They hadn’t been fond of their flight the year before since they had to make connections through Atlanta, one of the busiest airports in the world. So this time they were coming to Baltimore by train. “Hey, baby.”
“You all were serious about not flying, huh? That train ride is over ten hours.” I glanced at the arrival and departure times she had sent me in an email.
“It’s thirteen and we’ll be fine. By the time we got up early, got to the airport, made connections, and got to you, there wouldn’t be much difference. Plus, it’s cheaper, and I can pack us a nice cooler of food for the ride. You just be ready to pick us up from Penn Station.”
I smiled, remembering my childhood road trips. “Yes, ma’am. That cooler will probably have pound cake, slices of bread, and fried chicken, huh?”
“That’s right, and some fruit.” Mom laughed.
“I won’t be mad if you save me a slice of cake.”
“I’ll make a fresh cake once I get there.”
I silently pumped my fist yes!
“Are we staying at your place, at the studio?”
“Yes. Leslie and Portia move back to Leslie’s after the holiday,” I replied.
“I’m so happy for that little girl. Baby, I’m telling you, we’ve been praying for her mama.”
“Prayer works. Wait until you see how good Leslie looks. She’s glowing.”
“Oh, that’s good news. But I need to go now—my book club will be here soon.”
“I didn’t know you were in a club.”
“Yes, we do more socializing than reading, but it’s good. We have a few widows in the group, they like the company. Speaking of which, how’s Jasmine’s mama? Is she coming over for Christmas supper?”
“Got it, book club that may or may not read the book.” I chuckled, then addressed my mom’s last question. “She’s okay. Jasmine said she finally agreed to going to a support group and has been making friends. But some of her church friends haven’t been calling as much. Between us...it was Mr. Charles that folks liked.”
“I can see that.” My mother, ever the diplomat. “Okay, gotta go. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Chapter 55
Jasmine
On Christmas day the house was packed. Aside from T’s parents and the four of us who lived there, the usual suspects were in attendance as well. Kevin, John, and the rest of the crew. I felt like we were celebrating our own Christmas miracle 2006. Our laughter was louder, hugs longer, and smiles were deeper. It was truly a holiday so different from the one before. The heaviness was gone from the atmosphere—there was a lightness—and we touched each other with an intensity and warmness fueled by the human need to be connected.
When my mother arrived, we all paused. She hadn’t been to our house in months, since dropping some of my dad’s mementos off. I watched her tentatively greet everyone and I listened as she apologized, in her own way, to T.
“Thank you for supporting my daughter and her goddaughter. I know it wasn’t easy. I’m glad she has someone who...umm...helps her.”
T was cordial though, and I didn’t expect anything else. I had to keep from laughing as Ms. Mary moved quickly and stood right behind her daughter. T’s mother had her back and I didn’t think T even knew her mom was in such close proximity. I was glad my mother had said something decent because Ms. Mary did not tolerate foolishness. It may have been my imagination, but I was sure I heard everyone exhale.
I had loved watching my goddaughter grow over the past year. We all had. Portia was such a kind and insightful child. I saw her showing my mom her journal, which contained the list of books she had read for the year.
My mother told Portia, “Jasmine was a great reader when she was your age.”
I didn’t realize she had remembered that. Clearly, my mother’s harshness had softened, her edginess was muted—grief looked different on everyone. I could tell folks were still a little hesitant in their interactions, rightly so, but they gave her grace. In turn, my mother shared during the meal that, “Robert would have loved the atmosphere here this Christmas.” Her voice caught when she looked at me and said, “He loved this Motown Christmas album playing. That’s what we wrapped all of you all’s gifts to each year.”
I stood to embrace my mother and hugged her from the side. The real surprise was when she looked around the room and added, “Words can hurt and have consequences. I’m hoping to make amends in the new year.” I later saw Ms. Mary and my mom in the living room talking quietly together.
Dinner was plentiful. Terrence’s love language was food, and he loved us deeply Christmas day. His affection was evident in his warm gingered yams, savory tender meats, and butter-kissed homemade rolls. And he had let his aunt make a few desserts. When we thanked her for the pound cakes and banana pudding, Ms. Mary responded, “He allowed me to help. I’ve stopped trying to add to the menu. I simply ask him now, what should I prepare?”
Once dinner was over Leslie stretched. “I’m going to head back upstairs to rest a bit.”
The guys were headed to the basement to watch football.
But before anyone could get away, T stopped them all from retreating to their corners and cliques. Leslie returned to the couch.
“Hold tight, can everyone gather in the living room?” she requested. “Jasmine and I would like to say a few words.” She motioned for me to get gift bags we’d put together as well as a special gift for Leslie.
I sat them on the coffee table, handed T the larger gift, and T waved her hand as if to say I had the floor. I gently smiled at my wonderful girlfriend and cleared my throat a few times.
“I hope I can get this out. We want to say to everyone in this room, thank you. To our family, both biological and chosen, this journey could not have been possible without your wonderful support. You all made love a verb and put caring into action.” I wanted to keep it light—I thanked Stephanie for helping me keep my mind and John for helping T with hers. I thanked Terrence and Kevin for the endless supply of food. I thanked T’s parents for their prayers and for embracing us. I thanked Angel for recognizing we needed help. I even thanked my mother for raising me to step up to a challenge.
T passed the bags out. “These are a little something from us to remind you of what Jasmine said.”
All the bags contained framed pictures of events that took place during the last year. Leslie’s bag was a little different. It contained an album with a year’s worth of pictures that T had taken of her, Portia, and all of us supporting her journey. There was even a picture of Dr. Jordan and the staff. She turned it toward T.
“How?” Leslie asked, holding her hand to her heart. The day had been joyful with few tears, but having seen memories beautifully frozen in time, threatened to change that.
“I know people and I’m charming.” T chuckled. “Wait, there’s one more.” T handed Leslie a three-foot square gift wrapped in pink paper and suggested to Leslie they hang it in their condo when they moved back.
Leslie ripped the paper off revealing a gorgeous portrait of Leslie and Portia sitting on the little bench in my backyard garden. Portia was lying in her mother’s lap with her eyes closed. Leslie’s eyes were closed too and her hand rested on the side of Portia’s head. It was the first time I was seeing the picture just like everyone else. The vulnerability that was captured on canvas caused tears to flood my vision. The sniffles I heard without looking around the room let me know I wasn’t the only one moved by the image.
Chief among the snifflers was Leslie. “T, I can’t thank you and Jasmine enough.” She stood up and hugged both of us. “I could not have asked for better support. You all loved on Portia and you literally loved me back to life.”
***
When our guests had all left, I took a shower while T drove her parents back to the studio. I popped into bed to wait for her, but I apparently drifted off to sleep because I didn’t hear her return. I did, however, smell lemongrass soap when T nestled behind me and woke me up. To my delight, she was bottomless.
“Could this day have been better?” I asked her.
“Maybe?”
“Hmmm...what would make it better?”
T whispered while tracing her fingers along my thigh, awakening nerve endings that hadn’t been awake very much lately. Ordinarily, I would have protested because we still had house guests, but I wanted her. I wanted to physically express how much she meant to me and our relationship, especially over the past year.
I pressed my butt into her center, to which she replied by returning the pressure. She used one hand to explore the rest of my body and climbed on top. I pulled her mouth down to mine and ran my tongue along her bottom lip before meeting hers. I never wanted this feeling to end. Our lips were still locked when she moaned, having discovered how wet I was. She took her time, quietly, methodically, patiently bringing me to an orgasmic cliff.
I enthusiastically returned the favor, bringing her to her own climax sometime later, sucking her clit until I felt her rhythmic contractions subside. I returned to lie on top of her. “That, Ms. Butler, made it a perfect day.”
