Until My Heart Stops Beating (17 page)

              A few hours later, Makeba woke up thanks to the fullness of her kidneys. She had to choose the room that didn’t have a bathroom. She thought about going out on the deck and walking around to the other rooms that had one but she wasn’t sure of Declan’s location. Running into him was the last thing she wanted. Slowly, she opened the bedroom door. He fell back catching himself before he could hit the floor. He jumped up when the door opened. She couldn’t bare eye contact, so she looked away from him.

              “I love you.”

              Even those words did nothing for the ache she felt in her heart as she continued on her journey to the bathroom. He was on her heels. She entered, slamming the door in his face. Feeling defeated, Declan thought it was best to give things some time to simmer.
Things would surely be better in the morning.
With his head hung low, he walked away from the bathroom door, heading for the room he would be sleeping in alone.

              It had been a whole twenty-four hours and he was no closer to patching things up with Makeba than he was the night before. When he woke up the next morning, he quickly showered and resumed holding post outside her door. She had changed rooms to one that had a full bathroom the moment he stepped away from her door to answer the call of nature. Now, she had no reason to exit, except to eat and she hadn’t done that since yesterday. He didn’t know what else to do. He had played all his cards, poured his heart out, begged, pleaded and nothing worked. With one last card to play, he had to do it fast because time was slipping away from him. Picking up his phone, he called Sam
ordering him to bring his trump card to the house, Granny Whitaker. He was playing dirty and he knew it but she left him with no other choice. He was not under any circumstances going to live his life without her.

              Makeba glanced at the door when she heard a knock. This time it was different. It was softer, lighter.
He didn’t, she thought
.

              “It’s granny, dear. May I come in?”

              He did. What a dirty trick.
Her heart pounded against her chest as she opened the door. Granny Whitaker was standing there with warm cinnamon buns and coffee on a serving tray.

              “Are you hungry?” she asked with such a beautiful smile it melted Makeba’s heart.

              “A little.”

              “Well let’s have some. Join me out on the deck.” Slowly she walked away.

              “Granny, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

              She looked over her shoulders glaring at Makeba. “Get your tail out here now. Don’t be disrespectful,” she scolded.

              The stern words of the elder matriarch made her feel like a twelve year old little girl. Obediently, she sauntered out the room looking around hoping she didn’t have to deal with Declan.

              “I sent him away. Its girl time, just you and me.”

              Makeba noticed granny was walking again without her wheelchair. Had she told Declan she could walk? She dared not ask that question right now? It appears granny wasn’t too happy with neither of them at the moment.

              Staring blankly ahead as she took her seat, Makeba paid no attention to granny pouring her coffee and plating the
cinnamon buns. She was here in body but not in spirit. As she watched the clouds glide across the sky, tears flowed from her eyes. Quickly she wiped them away feeling as though she had cried enough already.

              “You know Michael Senior cheated on me too?”

              Makeba gazed up at her surprised by her revelation.

              “Yes he did. The pain I felt was indescribable. I think I’d rather have gotten my butt whooped than to have experienced that. That kind of pain - emotional pain is the worse and the hardest to heal from.”

              Silence.

              “Eat.”

              Granny watched as Makeba took small pieces of her cinnamon bun and put them into her mouth.

              “I know you’re in pain. One thing I can vouch for about my grandson, is that he’s an honest man even in his
business
dealings. If he said it then it’s true.  It doesn’t make it right but it’s the truth. When he told me what he did, I almost blew a gasket. I almost exposed myself because I was about to stand up and slap him beet red, but I caught myself just in time.”

              Makeba chuckled, releasing a leftover tear.

              “But I made him bend down low enough so I could get him. I got him good.”

              She laughed again.

              “Its music to my ears to hear your laughter dear. A bleeding heart is no fun but I want you to promise me something.”

              “Yes granny,” barely above a whisper.

              “Don’t give up on him.”

              She turned away as her eyes filled with water again.

              “Give him the chance to make it right.
I know all the bouquets of flowers and gifts in the world are not going to make things right and I’m not saying make it easy for him, but don’t let Deena win.”

              “Are you asking me to sweep this under the rug and pretend nothing happened?”

              “On the contrary dear. When I was going through what you’re going through now, I was already married. It would have been easy to walk away but I stayed and for a long time I made Michael’s life a living hell. Declan has to pay for his indiscretions but at the same time don’t be too proud ‘not’ to forgive and let him run to the arms of another woman when you know despite his faults, you still love him.”

              “I don’t trust him.”

              “Let him work to gain your trust again. Take some time to get yourself together but don’t close the book on your lives together. He loves you. I know it and you know it. If he had his way, the whole world would know it. He’s human. He’s a man. We all make mistakes and we all deserve second chances but if he slips up ever again, then you drop him like a hot potato and don’t look back. I can tell you though, from the looks of my grandson you won’t have to worry about that ever happening again.”

              Makeba thought long and hard about the words of wisdom she had received from granny Whitaker. She was right. Regardless of what happened yesterday she still loved him but she needed time. How much time? That, she couldn’t answer if she tried.

              “Ok granny. Ok, but he has to
choose, her or
me. He can’t have us both.”

              She clapped her hands together and smiled. “Come.”

              Makeba got up and made her way to the other side of the table. Granny Whitaker pulled her down into an embrace. “That’s my girl,” she said.

              Makeba returned to her seat and continued to enjoy the company of one of her most favorite people in the world, Granny Whitaker.

DIRTY DANCING

              Three weeks had passed since the incident with Declan and Deena. So many flowers had been delivered to her that she could start her very own floral shop. Even the gifts he sent made her eyes open as wide as silver dollars.

              “Hey, earth to Makeba.”

              She glanced at Rasheeda, “Hey.”

              “Let’s go out tonight. Marcella invited us to her Cuban spot. I bet we’ll have loads of fun. C’mon girl lets go out and party.” Rasheeda began snapping her fingers and moving around her seat.

              “You go, have a good time. I’m in no mood for partying.”

              “Hell you’re not. You’ve been moping around since you got back. You won’t answer his calls, you won’t call him, you're miserable as hell, and I’m sure he’s devastated without you. Stop sitting around like your world is about to end. It’s not, this shit happens every day. You won’t be the first woman cheated on and you won’t be the last. Either you’re going to forgive this man or you’re not. If you are, call him. If you’re not, suck it up and get yourself together so you can move on.”

              Makeba glared at her friend like she had lost her mind. She replied, “I don’t need this shit right now.” She got up to leave but she didn’t get very far.

              Rasheeda pulled her down, “Yes, you do. You wanted me to sit here and join in this pity party with you. I’m not. I’m your friend and I’m not going to baby you.”

              “I’m ready to go.”

              Rasheeda frowned, “I’m not done with my food yet,” she replied through clenched teeth.

              “Whose side are you on?”

              “It’s not about sides my friend. It’s about right or wrong. What do you want from the guy, blood? He’s done everything he could do to make it right. I totally get what you’re doing, I do. But how much longer are you going to make him pay?”

      She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Rasheeda, out of all people
taking up for a man who was
caught red handed in
his infidelity. The hardcore man basher?
She was sure her friend would be on her side but from the sound of things, she was dead wrong.

              “He hurt me.”

              “Not more than you’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t put your pride in your back pocket and sit on it. I may not know him very well but from what you’ve told me, and the little conversations I’ve had with him he really loves you. Maybe his explanation of events surrounding that infamous encounter were actually true. Being drugged is as farfetched as you would like to think. Listen, ask yourself, can you fathom a life without this man after having him in it? If the answer to that question is yes without a doubt, then by all means end it and never look back. If the answer is no, then bite the bullet and give him another chance. Men like him are like looking for a needle in a haystack and when you find one, you better hold on real tight because there is always someone else waiting in the wings for her
chance at him. Trust me. I’m one of them.” She sat back in her seat. “C’mon Keba, you know damn well how conniving some women can be. If you do take him back, make sure she’s no longer working for him. She needs to go but after she’s fired, know that it may not be the last time you hear from her.”

              Bothered by Rasheeda’s last comment she asked, “What makes you say that?”

              “Obviously this woman was in love with Declan way before you came into the picture. At that time, there was always hope for her. You took that away. She no longer has any chance of being Mrs. Declan Whitaker. A woman like her won’t take that lying down. In her mind, it’s all your fault. You took him from her. Stay alert Keba, do not sleep on her.”

              Pondering on her words, Makeba had to admit she did miss him like crazy and truthfully, the only thing keeping her from forgiving him was her pride. Suddenly, Rasheeda’s expression changed. Curious as to what she was looking at, she turned around. Speak of
the devil, Declan was standing behind her with a suitcase in his hand and a laptop bag draped over his shoulder.

              “Good afternoon.”

              Feeling uneasy, nervous even, although she missed him, she wasn’t ready to deal with him just yet. She stood to leave. Immediately Rasheeda rose from her seat
glaring at her mouthing the words, “Sit down.” She glanced up at him. “Good to see you again, Declan.”

              “Likewise Rasheeda.” He smiled while shaking her hand.

              “My break is over.”

              “I’ll cover the bar for you Makeba. Take as much time as you need.” She faced Declan. “Let me take your bags to my office until you’re ready to leave.”

      “Thank you so much,” he smiled. “I appreciate that.”

      “Not a problem.” She retrieved his bags and walked off leaving her friend to handle her business.

              He took a seat. “Hello Makeba.”

              “Declan.” She refused to look his way.

              “The least you could do is look at me and not past me.”

              She cut her eyes at him.

              Folding his arms and leaning across the table, he stared at her and asked, “How long will I be the object of your wrath?”

              “I do not wish to discuss this right now.”

              “Then when? You barely answer my calls, when you do the conversation is short and to the point and you refuse to let me come see you.”

              “And yet here you are.”

              “What choice did I have?” He asked, fighting to keep his voice under control. “For God’s sake your last few days in Chicago you ignored me and treated me like I was the invisible man even when I was right next to you. I’m hurting Makeba. Isn’t that enough?”

              Glaring at him she said, “I have to get back to work.”

              “You will when we’re done.”

              “Oh, we’re done!”

              She stood to leave. Declan closed his eyes as he lowered his head in his hands. Trying to get through to her was like attempting to walk on water. Sadly he looked up as she was walking away. “I’m staying at the Marriott Hotel,” he stated.

              There was no response. She kept on walking until she disappeared behind the
doors leading to the back of the restaurant. A few minutes later Rasheeda returned with his bags. She sympathized with him. Here he was doing everything in his power to make up
but nothing he did was good enough. She wanted to knock some sense into her friend.

              “Thank you,” he said as he grabbed his bags and walked off with eyes as gloomy as a dog left in the middle of nowhere on the side of a road.

              She shook her head in disappointment. Makeba was her friend and with all the empathy in the world she knew exactly how she was feeling, but at some point you have to decide is the payback worth losing everything. Filled with anger, Rasheeda decided it was best that she keep her distance from her for the rest of the shift. They had been friends for too long for her to ruin it by saying something she wouldn’t be able to take back. To accomplish that, she took off her friend hat and wore the hat of superior/subordinate. Even at the end of their shift after cashing Makeba out, the only words exchanged was goodnight.

~*~

              Lying in bed with her eyes fixated on the television, Makeba’s mind was not focused on what was playing. There was so many things going through her mind that she thought she would go insane if she didn’t talk to somebody. Rasheeda came to mind but she knew her friend
was angry with her about how difficult she was making things for Declan. Makeba convinced herself that she had reasons for being upset with Rasheeda as well for her display of misplaced loyalty.

              “May I come in?”

              She glanced up. Her mom was standing under the threshold of her door holding two mugs with steam seeping from the top. From the tag hanging over
the cup, she knew it was her favorite herbal tea.

              “Yes ma’am.”

              Makeba sat up as her mom entered. Handing her a cup then taking a seat on the edge of the bed, she asked, “You want to talk about it?”

              She placed her mug on the nightstand as she laid her head in Mrs. Jones lap. Her mom stroked her hair. “Tell mama what’s wrong.”

              “Daddy was right.”

              “About what honey?”

              “About white people,” she cried.

              “You’re not making any sense. What about white people?”

              “They can’t be trusted.”

              Frustrated, Mrs. Jones lifted Makeba’s head. “Girl, stop speaking in riddles and tell me what happened.”

              “Declan cheated on me.” She wiped a lone tear from her eyes.

              “I see.”

              Her mom listened attentively as Makeba explained all the details of what had transpired during her visit to Chicago. Anger was building up inside of her the more she heard. Her baby was hurting but she knew it was imperative that she continue to listen without judgment and keep a level head until the end of the story. Only then will she be able to make sense of it all and offer her daughter some sound advice.

              At the conclusion of the story Mrs. Jones remained silent for a few minutes to process all that had been shared with her. Shifting her body, she faced her daughter. “That’s quite a situation you got going on.”

              Silence.

      “Mom, I don’t know what to do.”

              “I think you already know honey.”

              Makeba was confused by her mother’s statement.

              “Do you still love this man?”

      “Yes, very much so but-“

              Mrs. Jones held up her hand interrupting her. “No buts. If you still love him, forgive him Makeba. There
are a lot of things he could have done that would have been ten times worse than cheating. Was he wrong? Absolutely. Does he deserve to be punished for the rest of his life for making a human error? No, baby. By not forgiving him you’re not only hurting him, you’re hurting yourself because with him is where you want to be.”

              “Mom.”

`Holding her
head to the side with a slight smile she asked, “Well, am I wrong?”

      Sighing, Makeba responded, “No.”

      Mrs. Jones stood. “There you have it then. Forgive him and move on from this and when you do forgive him, please don’t hold it over his head. Let it go. It won’t do your relationship any good to harp on it, trust me on that. Picking at old scars only creates a new wound. Nobody’s perfect in this world. You will find that when you put people up on a pedestal they're going to fall short of your expectations every time. With that being said, if you’re going to love him, you have to love all of him, shortcomings and all. Now nobody is saying that you’re supposed to make it easy for him but don’t be so hard that it costs you something you may live to regret later.”

              She looked at her mom lovingly. “Thank you mommy. I love you.”

              “I love you more baby.”

              Mrs. Jones stood up to leave. Suddenly, she eyed her daughter.

              “What is it mom?”

              “Please don’t attribute this type of behavior to a specific race. That way of thinking helps no one. Furthermore, it would break my heart if I thought you were adopting your father’s mentality.”

              “Never.”

              “I sure hope not.”

              They engaged in a tight embrace before Mrs. Jones left her daughter to ponder over her words of wisdom.

~*~

              The next night Makeba was really stressed. Deciding the only way to get her troubles off her mind was to go out and have a good time. She called Marcella and then Rasheeda informing them that she would be accompanying them to the Cuban Club, the same club she refused to go to the previous night.

              They arrived at the club at approximately 10:30 pm. It was a good idea to come early because they were able to find a table in the far right corner. After taking their seats Marcella told them the first round was on her. She took their beverage orders and headed to the bar leaving Rasheeda and Makeba to survey the establishment, admire the décor and relish in the ambiance as they swayed to the addictive rhythmic beat of Latin jams.

              A short time later, Marcella retuned to the table placing their drinks in front of them. They sipped while they talked over the loud music. Makeba’s phone vibrated but she sent the call to voicemail. Knowing very well who it was without looking at it, she promised she’d call Declan back later because at that moment she couldn’t resist the temptation of getting on the dance floor any longer.