Cheesecake and Teardrops (34 page)

“Let's make tonight special,” he said.

She lay back on the bed. He moved on top of her, kissing her neck and breasts. She closed her eyes as orgasms washed over her body in waves of ecstasy before he even entered her. She grabbed him and gently pulled his head back up to hers. She loved the feel of his fresh-shaved head in her hands and on her lips. The tears began to flow as she wished they could have a lifetime together.

“No more tears.” He kissed them away, only to see them return.

“I love you,” she cried.

“I know. I love you too.” He cupped her jaws in his hands. “You will never perish from my thoughts,” he whispered softly.

He entered her gently, and they spent the rest of the night pleasing one another. Tangie prayed that the sun would never come up. Finally, they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

As the first rays of dawn chased away the night, Tangie awoke to life's harsh realities. She was back in the real world. She looked over her shoulder at Tony, burning his image in her psyche. He was beautiful. Perhaps, sensing her preoccupation, he stirred and opened his eyes.

Tony stood and threw on his jeans and sweatshirt, momentarily fumbling for his sneakers and socks in the dark. “I guess this is it, Tangela.” He pulled her out of bed, and they walked to the door.

“Let me fix breakfast before you leave,” she suggested.

“I'm late already.” He rubbed her arms and shoulders.

“This is the day I say thank-you. And not just for all those beautiful lime roses. Thank you for my life.” She choked back tears.

“It was all my pleasure. All of it. Come here.” He took her in his arms. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Love me.”

“Always.” He kissed her on the forehead.

Heather arrived home and checked her messages. All five of them. There were two from Tangie, one from Charisma, and two from Jamal. What did he want? She couldn't imagine. The last time he spoke, he all but called her a baldfaced liar for incriminating Paula and her brother in the pill deal. Now what did he want? She listened to his messages. He wanted her to call him ASAP. Well, he could just wait, she decided as she plopped down on the sofa.

Heather was still angry with herself for losing her parents' picture and the letter. Now she'd just have to use her semi-photographic memory to make them last an entire lifetime. She wiped away a tear, thinking how she'd come so close, but was now so far. It wasn't fair. Life rarely was.

Her phone rang again. She wasn't in the mood for Jamal.

It was her mother. “I made lasagna,” she told Heather. “How does that sound?”

“It sounds great.”

“Good. I'll heat some up for you in the microwave and bring it right down to you.”

“I'm famished. Why don't you join me?” Heather asked.

“I'd love to. Why don't you take a shower and relax. Dinner'll be ready before you know it.”

Heather got up, took a nice, hot shower, changed into a nightshirt, and headed for the kitchen. Her mother had set the table and brought down a pan of lasagna, salad, and garlic bread. Heather ate everything on her plate, loving every bit of it.

“Are you finished already?” Leola asked.

“I guess my stomach really has shrunk,” she told her mother.

“After forty pounds, I guess so. Heather, promise me you're through with those pills.”

“I promise. It wasn't worth it.”

“Thank you.”

“I keep thinking about the letter and the picture of my birth parents. I know it's not your fault, but why couldn't you wait until after I had gotten home to give them to me?”

“I was just trying to cheer you up, Heather. Don't blame me for that.”

“I know it's not your fault. I'm not saying it's your fault. I just wish you had waited, Ma. That's all,” she snapped.

“Well, forgive me for trying to put a smile on your face.” She pushed her chair back from the table and threw her napkin onto the plate. “I'm going upstairs. Good night. Mothers get blamed for everything.”

Heather ran the water for the dishes, slamming them in the sink. In the process, she cut her finger on a broken glass, drawing blood.

“Damn,” she said as she sucked on her injured finger pad. Things had gone from bad to worse. She fought back tears as she covered the pan of lasagna with aluminum foil and put it in the fridge.

She owed her mother an apology. Sometimes it was hard for her to say she was sorry. It never came easy for her. Forgiving others was difficult. Forgiving herself was nearly impossible.

Her phone began to ring as she finished up in the kitchen. It was Jamal.

“Hey, Heather. How's it going?” he asked.

“I'm okay now, but I was in the hospital for a couple of days.”

“What happened?”

“I was run-down. I was losing too much weight too soon, and it took its toll on me.”

“Sorry to hear that, Heather. That's kinda why I'm calling. I owe you an apology.”

She listened.

“I should have believed you when you told me about Paula and her brother.”

“What made you change your mind?” she asked.

“Well,” he laughed sheepishly. “I saw a little snippet in the
Daily News
the other day about him being busted and out on bail for selling illegal drugs.”

“You're kidding?”

“And I felt so bad for the things I said to you.”

“Jamal, I accept your apology.”

“Thank you, Heather. I feel much better now. I'll let you get some rest. Talk to you later. Okay, Heather?”

“Okay, Jamal.”

 

Heather took two additional days off before returning to the library. Her boss and coworkers were pleased to see her back. Unfortunately, after a couple of hours, she felt like she had never left.

For lunch she stopped by Patty World for the brown stewed chicken special. All the tables were occupied so she ordered take-out.

“Heather, over here,” a familiar voice said. It was Ava.

Heather picked up her order and sat down. “So how's it going?” Heather asked her.

“I'm good. You look tired.”

“Girl, I have been through the ringer.”

“What's going on?”

“I just got out of the hospital last week.”

“No,” she exclaimed. “What happened?” She bit into a plantain.

“Those damn Z3Ks. I see why they're illegal. My mother had to rush me to the emergency room.”

“Are you serious?”

“Serious as a root canal.”

“Wow, I feel for you. I hope you stopped taking them.”

“I flushed them bad boys right down the toilet,” Heather admitted.

“So you're back to work?”

“Uh-huh. Today's my first day back,” she said as she slid a forkful of chicken into her mouth.

“So how's it going?”

“So-so. I'm still a little tired.”

“You should come by my house for dinner. My back rubs are legendary.” Ava looked deeply into Heather's eyes so there would be no misunderstanding.

After a long pause, Heather finally spoke. “Maybe one of these days I'll take you up on that.”

 

Heather knew what had to be done. She hadn't spoken to her mother in close to a week. That wasn't like either of them. When she came home from work that evening, Leola was in the living room, watering plants. She barely acknowledged Heather when she entered the house.

Heather cleared her throat and spoke. “Ma, we need to talk.”

Leola continued with the watering.

“Can we talk for a second?” Heather asked.

Leola stopped what she was doing. “I'm listening.”

“Let's sit down,” Heather said on her way to the love seat.

Her mother sat on the sofa.

“Okay.”

“Ma, I'm sorry for snapping at you the other day. I apologize. I know there's no excuse, but all my life I could only imagine what my birth parents looked like, and what their story was. You came along with all the missing pieces to the puzzle for me. It was like a dream come true. Then I let it slip through my fingers, carelessly. I was angry at myself, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry, boobie.”

Leola stood without saying one word. She went into her bedroom and returned moments later with a plastic sandwich bag. This time she joined her daughter on the love seat.

“This is yours.” She handed Heather the bag.

Puzzled, Heather took the bag, examining its contents through the plastic. She reached in and removed the small brown paper bag inside. Inside that bag was a familiar two-page letter neatly folded on plain white stationery. The photo was there too.

Heather's eyes filled with tears. She grabbed her mother with both arms as the tears flowed down both their cheeks.

“But how?”

“Boobie, there's an old saying. God's favor ain't fair. It just is.”

 

Heather realized that there was no sense in tempting fate a second time. She stopped by the Staples on the Van Wyck Expressway to make laminated copies of her mother's letter and of her parents' picture.

Heather practically begged the sales associate to be careful. He looked at the photo closely.

“Is this your mother? You look like her, especially your nose.” He was young.

“Yeah, they're my birth parents.” Heather surprised herself.

“You're mixed,” he said simply.

“Mixed with love,” she added, smiling.

“Me too,” he said, smiling at her.

Heather checked her watch. She had an appointment next door with Dr. Taylor at Jamaica Hospital. The doctor was very busy and Heather appreciated her clearing a few moments from her tight schedule to see her. She rode the elevator up to the seventh floor, thankful that she was no longer a patient. She sat in the waiting area for a few moments before Dr. Taylor's nurse whisked her inside.

Dr. Taylor looked like she should be doing a spread for a fashion magazine. She motioned for Heather to have a seat in her office.

“Thanks for stopping by and catching me up on your progress. How are you?” she asked Heather.

“Much better.” Heather smiled.

“I can tell. It's like night and day since the last time I saw you. I take it you're off the Z3K?”

“Definitely.”

“Good. It's been in the news a lot lately.”

“Whew, I couldn't believe all the malpractice suits and wrongful-death suits pending,” Heather admitted.

“It's truly a blessing that yours wasn't one of them.”

Heather's face registered the impact of her statement.

“So have you learned anything about life?”

“I've learned a priceless lesson. Favor ain't fair. It just is.”

“I couldn't have said it more perfectly myself. Let me ask you another question. How do you feel about therapy? I think you'd be an excellent candidate. Would you consider it?”

“Absolutely. If it's good enough for Tony Soprano, it's good enough for me.” They both laughed.

“Do you still want that deviated septum corrected?”

“Not on your life.” Heather grinned.

“Wow, that's a switch.”

“Why the switch?” Dr. Taylor asked.

“That's a long story.” Heather shook her head.

“Well, in any event, I'm glad you've learned to accept yourself. By the way, did you ever get that supplement?”

“I almost forgot. I'm glad you brought that up. I tried a couple of stores, but they said there's no such drug.”

“No such drug? There most certainly is,” she insisted.

“But from the looks of things, I think your body is beginning to manufacture it on its own.”

“Really, how can you tell?” Heather asked her.

“Do you still have it with you?”

“I'm not sure I brought it with me.” Heather rummaged through her bag, “Here it is,” she said, pulling it out.

“Read it to me.”

Heather attempted to pronounce the unfamiliar drug. “Evolfles?” she said.

“Here, let me help you.” Dr. Taylor reached into her top desk drawer and pulled out a tiny compact mirror. She held it up to the prescription. “Try it again, Heather,” she insisted.

Heather looked into the mirror and this time it was perfectly clear. “Self-love,” she said, smiling.

“You got it,” Dr. Taylor laughed, and Heather joined in.

 

Heather relaxed by treating herself to a nice, long bubble bath, filling her bathroom with scented candles and music. She was completely mellowed out by the time the last bubble trickled down the drain, and she towel-dried her soft curves. She layered lotion and body oil all over her skin until it glowed. The sound of her ringing phone brought a smile to her lips.

It was Jamal. “Hey, babe, I have an idea. Why don't we go out to dinner? Your choice.”

“That's sweet, honey, but I can't.”

“Why not? I thought you said you forgave me,” he reminded her.

“I did.”

“Then let's hang out.”

“I can't,” she repeated.

“Why not?”

“I'm exhausted,” she lied.

“How about tomorrow then?”

She hesitated only slightly. “Okay, sounds good. I'll call you,” she said before hanging up.

Heather slid into a pair of size-twelve blue jeans, loving the sleekness of her body as she viewed it from all angles in the bedroom mirror. Though she was no longer taking Z3K, she refused to make it easy for the weight to creep back on. She had gone back to working out at the gym with a vengeance. She topped off her jeans with a long-sleeve white cotton T-shirt and tiny diamond earrings. Heather pulled her hair into a curly bun on top of her hair before applying a touch of copper eye shadow and spicy bronze lipstick.

Once again the phone interrupted her thoughts, but this time it was the call she'd been waiting for. She blew her nose a kiss before snatching her keys from the coffee table and heading out the door. She floated all the way the way to Hillside Avenue.

She rang the bell to the Jamaica Estates co-op, warm with anticipation. Was she really ready for this? The door opened and Ava appeared, welcoming Heather into her home.

Heather looked around at the living room, the Asian influence evident in Ava's choice of artwork and furniture. There was even a little gold Buddha sitting next to a water fountain.

“Your home is lovely,” Heather said simply. “You have great taste.”

“Thanks, chickylicky,” Ava replied. She took a step closer to Heather and gave her a warm hug. She rubbed Heather's back and shoulders lightly. “You smell wonderful.”

Being embraced by a woman in that way was a new experience for Heather. Ava wore a spaghetti strap tank top and a short denim skirt. Ava was so soft. The difference between being touched by a man compared to being touched by a woman was amazing.

“I've never done this before,” Heather admitted.

Ava planted a kiss on Heather's cheek, just a fraction of an inch away from her lips. Unable to resist her, Heather moved a touch to the right and their lips finally met. She opened her mouth and allowed Ava's tongue in. They kissed nice and slow. Never in a million years did Heather imagine that another woman could turn her out. Ava reached down and gently squeezed Heather's breast before sliding her hand underneath Heather's top. Heather kissed her harder in response. Just as Ava's fingers were about to find Heather's swollen nipples, she stopped.

“Remind me where we left off,” Ava said, giving her a quick kiss. “Let's eat.” She took Heather by the hand and led her into the kitchen.

The table for four was set for the two to sit side by side.