

1When Rainbows

Ain't Enough

A Novel

By Pam Osbey

Osbey Books, Inc.

Chicago, Illinois

When Rainbow's Ain't Enough

Copyright 2008 by Pam Osbey

© 2009 by Osbey Books.

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America.

No reprints without the author's expressed permission.

For information email osbeybooks@sbcglobal.net.

Prologue

Time is ticking by so slowly and my ear catches the strumming of the beat of the city in this new wet morning. The melting of horns beeping and the early morning swooshes of the bus driving down the street lyrically sound their tones inside my ear drums. I'm gazing into the awesome eyes of my beautiful thing in my life, Imani, with her black dark eyes questioning my brown tearful ones. I'm trying to pretend as always that everything is going fine but inside my soul I am screaming a haunting melody that won't be vocalized because the revolution in my throat is not ready for human consumption. It's one of those days where I want to lay in this bed, with Imani on top of me, snuggled in this warm bed watching an all day CSI marathon on television but that's not the way it's going to roll. I have to get Imani to a birthday party and hope that Issac will be on time for this party because if I have to take the bus with Imani today, I am going to scream. It's hard enough traveling on buses by myself, but when I'm with her, it's a lot of more extra work. I can't see why he can't at least try to get me a car or something. He always keeps the car for himself, which I tell him, is very selfish. Anyway, it's the same old same. It is only seven a. m and I'm in for a long long day. I try not to think about it, but I know it's going to be a long one.

Imani gently smiles at me with that bright grin on her face and my tears do not fall. I beg them to not fall for I don't want Imani to see me this way. I can hide my pain. I have to. Isn't that what mothers do? I know my mother did. Sandy never let us see her sweat and I'm not going to let Imani see me melt away like a weak person would. There's no way I will let her see me cry.

No sense in bring a dark cloud over this day because with her, everything negative melts away. Even though I'm only twenty-one years old, I feel this is my destiny. To be the best mother Imani has and in turn God will bless me and guide me on.

I softly grab her stubby little fingers and we play spiders as my fingers climb up her little arms all the way up to her perfect round rose which I bend to kiss.

"I love you baby girl." She giggles at me as her smile reaches me and I begin to feel my soul lightening it's heavy weight.

Yeah, this is the reason why I am a mother. This beautiful girl who I am responsible needs me. It's not about me anymore, but her and I'll fight with everything in my soul to keep her safe and provide a good environment. Even if that means leaving Issac. I brush my lips against her pliable skin as we begin a new day. After all, a day above ground is better than one, under.

Chapter 1

No one said this shit was gonna be easy and I guess I'm finding out the hard way. Sometimes when I wake up to the sound of nothingness, the sweet yawning of morning, I am so glad that I"m alive, yet I just wonder if I could have a long moment of silence where I can only hear the beat of my heart uninterrupted by telephone calls, Imani's hiccups or sighs, or Issac moaning about what he wants for breakfast. I'm so tired of being this superwoman who has to fly around the house at a moment's notice. I wish that I could just remember the days when me, Nandi, Siah, and Nia used to kick up our hills at the clubs.

I gotta a little time to myself so I might just jot down in this new red and flowery journal so I can satisfy my daily quota of writing. Writing heals my soul. Writing lets me define and be who I want to be. I'm not in a writing poem type of mood, but just need to vent about the things. And let my soul fly free.

Yawning as I untangle my legs from underneath Issac's heavy ones, I gently guide my thin legs from his as I listen to the pelting of the rain outside reminding me it's gonna be a blue melancholy Monday and I've got to record these thoughts that are zooming inside my heart and mind before Imani comes in and wants to snuggle her behind between us two today.

When I think of her she makes me smile. I think she's my reason for living now. A few years ago I would have been so much more selfish than I am now. Now, it's all about her and trying to provide a stable loving environment for her. Don't you know how much a child will change you? I know what you are saying, is this the same Joie that had two men vying for her attention? Yes, it is. But it's not about them, it's about my baby girl. Her name, which means, faith, is the thing that is getting me along between my bouts of sadness over the changing of my relationship with her father, who is my husband. I mean, I do love Issac, don't get me wrong, it's just a little harder now. We've struggled for the last two and ½ years with our finances, his business ventures, and some serious health issues with my mother as well as dealing with his hateful mom.

Did I mention her ass hates me? That I can't do nothing right according to her world, her stupid rules? I mean it has been a while since I've heard her say a nice comment to me or generally try to help me out like a Grandmother usually does. I guess she's still trying to get her groove on and she doesn't even want Imani to call her "grandma". She prefers her real name. I don't understand her at all. I guess it's just that she still wants to be that young woman having men at her feet. I've seen how she acts at our family dinners at Kwanzaa and Thanksgiving times. Yeah, she's looking for a new love every dayum time I see her she got some new hot boyfriend. Issac grunts over the way she fawns over men, but I don't even see him trying to have my back when his mom goes off on me about Imani. In fact, I have never heard him say a thing about how embarrassing his mom can be at times. Especially when she's had too much to drink. Her ass is all over the place, laughing loud, scaring Imani with her heavy sexual talks.

When she gets like that, I steer my baby girl out of the room and leave Issac with his "problem child". Nandi tells me I should be more understanding but I have tried.

I have talked about it, whined about it, cried about it. Tried to get Issac to at least admit his mom has a drinking problem and that we can help her by providing resources to AA or some kind of counseling but he's deep in self-denial about it. Whenever I mention it, his eyes glaze over something blank where I can't even tell if he's upset about it or not. I think he's embarrassed but I told him he should not be.

Hell, every family has some family member with some serious problems. My uncle Dyrell is a crack addict and he's in jail right now. Goes in and out of the pen like it is his only place of refuge. We tried to help Dyrell, give him money, and try to get him jobs but his ass is an addict and a criminal and that is just his thing.

I told Issac that he shouldn't be embarrassed and that it's okay to be mad. But he ain't helping his mother by just pretending she ain't got a problem.

It takes Sandy to talk about her. And my momma, is the most real person you'll ever meet. She don't hold her tongue for nobody.

I'm glad to report we are doing great as mom and daughter. I think that has to do with me being a mother myself. Things do change.

Scratching my head, looking at the silver and black clock on the short dresser beside Issac and my queen sized bed that is crowded with six full down pillows and some of Imani's favorite things - her Hello Kitty pink and white teddy bear, and some of her reading books stuck under my pillow, I am reminded that I need to journal.

I open the pretty red journal I bought from the Osco the other day, smiling, as I reach over Issac's sleeping body, and try not to rub against him as I take a black pen out of my FMC mug. I'm not trying to wake up his freaky butt. I just want to get my thoughts out.

I flip out the first page of the journal as I grin, feel the newness of this journal as I begin to let my thoughts fly free.

July 10th

You know me and Siah haven't really hung out since I had the baby and that's due to a whole bunch of reasons. She's dating a guy, Corey Johnson, and since they have been together she's basically been missing in action. I mean, love Siah and she's my girl since way back in the day. Since we went to Charles Elementary School in Hyde Park and graduated elementary school we have been tight. Tight!!! Through her mom's addiction to Cocaine and recovery as well as my parents divorce when I was like eleven, we have supported each other through thick and thin. Man, that is my nucca! I love her so much that my heart breaks when she doesn't call me. It's not as simple as that. I just miss her so much. She is missing out on the best of Imani as Imani grows up and I want to share that experience with her.

I love her hard as hell but she got into Corey after some blind date and since then, she has retreated into her own world. I know how it is to be in love for the first time. I remember when Issac and I first dated I was way into him and I wasn't as available as Nia, Siah and Nandi wanted me to be. But I turned around. Hell, it's been at least one full year since we have even said hi. I tried to call that girl but she's too dayum busy. I heard though the grapevine she might be getting married. I just wonder why she ain't in touch with me. The last time we spoke she acted like she was so busy that she couldn't talk. I know I could be patient, but it's pissing me off. I'm frustrated as hell.

I'm tired of calling her ass and that's that. If she's too busy, then I am.

I miss her fierce but I guess she's too busy to notice that I ain't called her in over six months.

Oh well, I'd cry over it but it just ain't worth it.

Momma says I should be more patient, but how much more can a girl tak? I'm the one stuck in the house being a mother. I can't go out no more. My single life and mind set is all but gone in the fragments of the second Imani came into the world. Don't get me wrong, I love Imani, but I need my sister friends. If it wasn't for Nia and Nandi I would be going crazy.

At least I have them to run too when things get rough between Issac and myself.

Even, I ain't super woman and I am not trying to be..

My pen flow is stopped by the whispering in my ear from my horny husband. I hurriedly stick my pen in the middle of page three of the new journal and throw it on the soft carpeted floor as I feel his hot tongue enter my sensitive ears.

"Good morning, Issac." I'm trying to get away from his horny butt. Here it is only like seven oh five a.m in the morning and I can feel the thickness of his male instrument prod my body tempting me to taste him.

Lord, knows I love this man, but we got some serious issues that need to be addressed.

"Hey -" He stops as he notices the journal on the floor beside my plush blue slippers.

"You journaling already?" For a brief second his eye flicks something mysterious that I cannot read and he breathes in my ear seductively.

"You write about me today?"

"No baby." Trying to get away from him, I'm having a hard as time, cause now he's all up in my face and the heavy feeling of having him near me is having that freaky affect on me. "Umm." I let that escape as I stiffen up at his touch.

"Joie, when did the doctor say we can have sex again?" He was gentle and quiet with his approach and I felt tears wanting to escape my eyes as I remember the horrific experience I went through. What we went through a few weeks ago.

"In two weeks." Mumbling under my breath, I pray he gets the hint that I'm not that interested, at least, right now. The numb feeling came over me again won't go away. The feeling that I am not good enough and that I must always be persecuted in some way in this life.

That I must always be going through some sort of drama. Like the rain outside I am blue and black and weary and damp. My soul is dark and needs some sort of light. I wish. Lord, I wish I had the answer to why I went through the previous hell and I'm not blaming you. I just want to know why I can't just be.

I scratch my hair feeling the African micro-braids get tangled in my nervous fingers as I laid against my husband and let silence answer it for him. I know he must know that I'm dark inside my soul that the old Joie is gone and that I feel like I'm on trial and this is my current tribulation. To be punished for all the wrongs I did in the past. For almost cheating on Issac with Pharell when we first got married. For being a bad momma in my first year. For cursing out my own mother when I was nineteen and was so ignorant to the fact that she loved me and that we need each other. For being a selfish person when I should have been grateful for what God gave me.

I am on trial and I couldn't find the words to express to my husband that I'm sorry I ain't the best mother in the world. That I suck at a whole bunch of things. That I must repent for my sins. And that hopefully I will be able to be that happy girl. That confident girl is all but gone.

Yeah, I have no words. My tongue is tied down and she can't even begin to explain how she feels. Hopefully he'll understand.

One day I'll make him understand.

As he holds me close and I hear our breaths mingle together in the silence of the moment, I lean back against him and say, "soon, baby." And when I look deep into his deep bronze eyes I see his strength and feel his arms close the space between our bodies, I exhale as I relax finally.

"Isaac - "

I was interrupted by the shriek of Imani, who appeared like a little thief in the night, as she bounced on top of our bed and pulled her Hello Kitty teddy bear from the corner of the bed where Issac's big feet had planted it earlier.

"Mom- mieeeeee." Her clear and cheerful voice tickled me and I felt her plant a sweet kiss near my cheek. And when she began to climb in the bed fitting her warm little body next to mines in the bed, I sighed a relief.

Thank God for Imani. She is such a welcome relief.

She is my inspiration every day.

I grab my child and snuggle next to her while Isaac gently kisses the back of my neck and says, "I love you so much, Joie."

"I know you do."

Imani's black little eyes absorb both of us as her light voice sings, "I love you. " as she gets up on her tip toes and plant a sticky wet one on Isaac.

She takes her teddy bear brings it close to her body, lay in the bed between us, and we all let sleep claim us again for a few minutes.

I know there are tons of things to do today, but I rather stay here in this moment and relax with my beautiful family.

It is mid-day and Isaac is gone to work and I'm still at home with Imani as we sit in the large living room where she is playing with her toys in the middle of the floor and I am flipping channels trying to find something that is hilarious to watch. With the remote in my hand I notice how rough my fingers are now, I guess not being able to wash them and keep these nails together are getting harder by the day. I must take some time to do that. Imani is wearing her favorite Pink and White Hello Kitty tee-shirt and a pair of black shorts that is smudged with brown spots from her playing outside earlier at Foster Avenue Beach. I swear that girl is almost like Nandi when she was growing up. Nandi was always getting into something and physically tough like a boy. Whereas, momma says I was the one always picking cute outfits with hats and purses. Even to this day I love some dayum hats. Now, Imani, is a middle between a little tom girl and a sophiscated big little baby girl. She loves to wear her little casual tees with jeans a lot and when it's a Sunday, she wants to have pretty church dress, with hats and gloves to match. She hollers when she can't get her favorite outfit on.

That girl is a trip and lately she has been very difficult to handle. I wonder how I was at her age. Maybe I'll chat up mom later about that. I know Imani always wants to keep all of her toys and never wants to share with her cousins when they come to visit. She is always shouting, "mine! mine! mine!" and I hear the lilt of her voice carry throughout our very small two-bedroom apartment that we have on the third floor. I've received numerous complaints on her voice levels and I have asked Isaac to think about us moving because it's time for a house. An apartment is no place for an active, growing child and I feel it is time for us to move into a space where Imani can be more free.

Before I can even let my thoughts gather, I hear the shrill of the bell and hurriedly answer but at the same time watching Imani as she is playing in front of the blaring television. I push the white button with fear in my heart as Imani is always busy running around the house, "Who is it?" I shift the button to listen and hear my mother's silvery voice, "Honey, it's me." I quickly push the entrance button to let her in and go back to the living room while waiting for Sandy's light knock at the door.

I crane my sore neck around the corner to peep and make sure that Imani hasn't gotten into the plants like she did last week, wrecking the carpet with that dirt, because Isaac was so upset about it, and I don't feel like arguing again over something that is a natural thing. She's a two year old, she's gonna get into stuff. Maybe if his ass would stay home some of the time, he'd know that.

At the light sound of Sandy's quick three knocks, I grab a hold of Imani, and we walk towards the door as I lift up her little body and we both look through the peephole to see Sandy with a smile on her face. I open the door as I put Imani down and she runs to Sandy shouting loudly, 'Grand-mama!"

"Hey sweetums. You look so cute today." Sandy plants two wet kisses on Imani's cheeks as she touches Imani's two big ponytails that are secured by white and pink barrettes. "How you doing, missy?"

Imani smiles a huge smile and giggles as she looks up to her grandmother and notices two big shopping bags.

"Hi, Grand-mama!"

She waits for Sandy to lift her up and then plant two slobbering kisses on Sandy's face as she chants and snuggles up to her.

"Grand-mama. Grand-mama."

A lump is formed in my heart when I see those two together plus I see those bags which I know are overflowing with new clothes and toys for Imani. I keep telling Momma to stop doing this. Isaac is already feeling like he's not the man when she takes that away from him. His ability to provide for his family. I know she means well, but damn, she needs to cool off. At least wait until the holiday season to buy Imani new things. Imani is already spoiled little brat. She has more stuff that any child should have. I try to shut my mind off and let it be blank and not let any tears fall on my face, I feel so stiff and unbrave. I want to tell Momma things that I have burning in my chest, but I can't.

I won't.

I will not allow myself to break down. I feel my eyelids wanting to invite tears to dance with my skin but I don't want to cry. What ever will it do? And why should I cry when I have a beautiful child and mother filling my home with love. I shake off my insecurity like it's nothing and weakly smile bringing my lips together in a wane grin.

My ears lean to hear the laughter of Sandy and Imani as they walk towards the living room and Imani swings her little legs on the White rocking horse as her stubby finger get tangled in the horses stringy hair. Sandy is showing Imani some new Mary Janes she brought her from the American Girl store on Michigan Avenue. Those bright black shoes are laughing at me. You know why? Cause I can't buy that for my own child. I'm still working but my money is so funny since I was downsized and had to take a regular administrative assistant position in the company.

Maybe Isaac's right. Maybe I should let Joe hook me up for that substitute teaching position at his boyfriend's school on the northside. At least I'd have something stable and permanent. These changes at work are stressing me out and I need to have a regular job where I can at least come home early to Imani. It's bad enough Isaac's job keeps him working over late at least three days a week and when he comes home he doesn't lay a finger to help out with his own child.

It's all he can do to read a story to Imani as she goes to sleep after we have dinner.

I'm fatigued. That's all I can think of now. I remember the days of hanging out with the girls and enjoyed it more. Because right now, all I can do is be a mother, not that I'm complaining, but it's a tiresome schedule.

During most weeks I get home at 5 pm, go pick up Imani at Mom's house, which is forty-five minutes away, sometimes have to run over to Dominick's to get some groceries, and then get her home, wash her up, and then try to fix a dinner for Isaac. Most of the time it is me and Imani eating alone to the music of the couple above us who are always having parties that last way too long.

My rambling thoughts are interrupted by Sandy's concerned voice. "Girl, you look tired. Why are you still hanging in that hallway, get over here."

She's wondering why I'm standing in the hallway? I'm so tired of things. Staying stuck on stupid.

I gather my scattered thoughts and smiled blandly at my mother as I watch her and Imani play on the soft carpeted floor that is filled with Imani's pink and white Hello Kitty, her African-American and Hispanic looking Bratz dolls, and several Dr. Seuss books. The giggles pass over my pounding head. I'm realizing with a wry grin that I am being the real good doting type of wife I said, I'd never become. I hear the throaty syllables that float in the air from Imani as she tells Sandy that she wants another specific toy for Xmas. I told Sandy to stop buying for her.

I really need to talk with her about it.

I rub my hot burning eyes as I take a seat on the black couch that is facing my old twenty-seven inch Sony Television in the living room. I tuck my thick thighs under as I slid on the floor bending my five foot seven inch frame to clean up the area while Imani and Sandy chat but I hear a loud scream that infuriates my headache even more. Before I even respond, I gently rub my temples and mumble under my breath and continue to clear the area. Sliding the toys over to Imani's play pen, I put the Hello Kitty and Bratz dolls in and stack the books neatly before turning to Sandy and Imani.

"NO. NO. NO!" Imani suddenly up at the sight of her toys being moved to the pen. There's a glossy look to her eyes as if tears are going to fall.

My brown eyes soak into her light hazel ones as I mutter, "Imani Nia Campbell, if you don't stop all that noise, I'm going to give you something to scream about!" My heavy voice was laced with fire and my eyes were angry slits. Sandy took Imani into her arms and smoothed down her wrinkled denim jeans and tucked in her fushia tee-shirt that was hanging off her body. She then took Imani and brought her close to me and then whispered to Imani . "What mommy was trying to say is that you must not scream so loudly. Remember, there are people who live under you and they might be sleeping or doing something where they don't want to hear loud noises." Her voice was patient and very pleasant.

With a frown on my face I stood facing both of them as my eyes soaked in Imani's concerned face. I held an rageful comment to momma as I watched Sandy with Imani. My mom is good with that girl. Too bad she wasn't like that with me, Joe or Nandi.

I shoved those thoughts out of my head and say, "Thanks, mom." I was irked with myself. Why couldn't I be like that? It seems like I have so much to learn about being a mother. But I'm gonna try. At least I am.

Sandy handed over Imani to me. I felt her sweaty palms and noticed her dazed expression as she looked at me and I pulled her close to me smelling her daily moist that was mixed with the green grass she played in earlier and dusty dirt from the park littered her clothes. I smiled gently as I remember how I used to play at that age. I chose to say nothing else but rubbed her body close to me as she began to kiss my cheeks.

"Now, say sorry." Sandy gently told Imani.

"Sorree! Mom-my." She curled up to me and laid her head on my chest.

Looking into her innocent eyes, I also conceded, "Me too, baby."

The three of us settled in the living room, looking through the things momma bought for Imani and nibbled on fresh fruit while we waited for Joe, Nandi and Issac to come home later for the family dinner.

Chapter 2

When Joie first had the baby I was happy as hell and I remember being numb because I wasn't sure what I should do. I was as dumb-founded as a man can be. I can remember that day as clear as a my graduation day. IN fact, I count that day as a day where I graduated from boyhood to manhood all in one instant. At two-forty five p.m, Sandy's mom called me on my cell phone and I was in the middle of a presentation with clients from California, but hell, when I got that call, I told my boss my wife was having a baby and I heard everyone's congratulations then I took a cab to the hospital and text messaged Chi to meet me over at Advocate for support. I really didn't call my momma, cause she probably didn't give a care anyway, seeing as though she had such a low opinion of Joie. My palms were sweaty and I kept chewing on some old juicy fruit gum and my tongue was hot and I just had butterflies in my stomach. I was nervous and happy at the same time. I just was in shock that the day was here and that I was becoming a father and Joie was giving me a blessed gift - our first child.

When I got to the hospital, I ran to the entrance and saw Chi and we zoomed past all the visitors and patients and doctors, found Joie's room and I was sprinting, lord, knows I was. I almost tripped over my own shoes as we sprinted and my eyes contacted with her teary ones as Dr. Abele cut the tubes and I interrupted the procedure with all my racket. After the nurses allowed me to come in, I spanked Imani's soft behind as she cried her first cry and I held her while tears coursed my face. Chi was outside giving me the high-five and Siah, Nandi, Sandy and Joe were in the corner of the room watching me. I will never forget that day.

After she was born, I changed. I mean, I guess reality kind of hit me straight in my eyes. I mean I was a father and my first child wasn't a boy, but she was a girl so I had to take that. I love Imani, don't get me wrong, but I wanted a boy so bad. I wanted to be able to show him how to do boy stuff – playing all the sports I used to love as a boy, go fishing, basketball, skateboarding and all that good stuff. Share little boy secrets with him, but that's not going to happen unless she has a boy the next time.

I don't even know if I want another child with Joie. She's more into the baby and it's like I'm not even there. Like I'm invisible. I love that woman I swear to God I do. But it's like we aren't even in the same space anymore. It's a lot to be a parent at our ages. I don't even know what we were thinking. I'm 26 years old and I don't even think I have enough life experience to be a parent, plus I still am dealing with problems from my past and I want to be single, but I'm married. I'm holding on to a job that I absolutely hate, but it brings in the dollars and it's not like Joie's job is paying huge. Plus we have a child. We have to make this work.

I don't even know how Joie is handling this. She's the youngest of us two. Her being twenty-two has to be hard. To forget about the days of partying with her girls. Although she doesn't complain to be about it. I know she misses her days with Siah, Nandi and Nia.

As far as being a father right now, I hate coming home now from a long day of work and all I want to do is lay down and have silence but the house is all loud with Imani's cries, laughs, and talks. All I see are baby toys all over the floor and I'm forever triping over a teddy bear, a building block set, or Imani's damn Bratz dolls. I can't even get in my own bed alone anymore. Imani is always crawling up in the bed and I can't even remember the last time I had good sex with Joie. She's always tired. Hell, she looks tired every day.

Joie used to be fine back in the day with those nice thick thighs just thick enough to make a man want to bite. Her long black hair used to be swept up in a french bun or in some braids that were well-coiffed. Her nails were always shiny and pretty. But that was when we first got married and then in the first year of marriage, she got pregnant. After that, all bets were off. Her thin thighs bloomed into super thick thighs. She used to be a nice size – like a twelve or something like that but now she's a sixteen and it's like man, what happened to that neat and cute girl that used to have everything matching. Now she's wearing a lot of clothes that aren't even together. Mostly casual dresses and jeans with tee shirts. I know she's a mother but I miss my baby. I miss having that girl that made men's heads turn. Now it's like a different world. Joie doesn't go get her hair done anymore down at the salon next to our apartment complex. Her nails are looking more rough and she needs to pamper herself. I been meaning to speak with her about it. I just don't want her to get upset. You know how sensitive women are about their bodies and stuff like that. And Joie is the queen of drama when it comes to that.

I know I'm busy but I can't even muster up any strength when I come into this house. Like today for example, we have a family dinner.

I don't even feel like dealing with my mom or Joie's family. I love Sandy and Nandi but Joe with his fruity ass can go. I just delete him from the dinner and everything would be fine. But as long as he don't bring no men with him, I will allow him to come. He's a nice cat don't get me wrong, but I can't stand a man who sleeps with another man. I don't know if Joie knows he is gay but me and my boys saw him walking in boys town with another man and openly kissing him.

I was so embarrassed because they knew him right off the back. At the time I was driving down Belmont and Sheffield and I followed the direction of Chi's pointing fingers when I almost hit an elderly woman crossing the street. And I still can't believe I saw Joe dressed up with tight jeans and a black silky shirt that clung to his hard body like it had just been wet with syrup and he had been dipped into the river. It took a lot not to spit negative rhymes when my boys also recognized his fruity ass. It just was so embarrassing especially when we pulled over and Joe swung his arms up and shouted, "Hey, Isa-ac!" in an overly friendly way. It just was so embarrassing.

I just didn't want to say much to Joie because I know she's been very sick and I don't want to worry her at all. And I love, Joie, truly I do. It' s just that lately I don't see her that much except for the baby and she normally doesn't even sleep in our bed anymore, cause she wants to be close to Imani. But I'm gonna put a stop to that.

It just ain't normal. I need my wife back in my bed. If she doesn't let Imani sleep alone all it's going do is make me madder. Divide us even further. Shaking those deep thoughts I shake my head as if to ward off the plague of my crazy life and try to bring myself back to the present.

My dry hands cover my bald head as I lean back against the glass window pane of the train as it zooms by Washington Street and it begins to fill with passengers on the way to the North side where I live with Joie and Imani. I have to take this train all the way to Berwyn and Sheridan Road where I jaunt over to our lovely apartment in the Wyndham Apartments which is directly across from Dominicks, the grocery store. It's actually a nice community we live in is called Uptown and it's nestled in the heart of the Northside, not too far from Foster Avenue Beach and about twenty minutes on the express buses to downtown Chicago.

It's just that I work in the far part of the loop and have to climb onto the crowded Red line train which goes all the way to Howard Street. I love this train though.

You see so many people - black, white, chinese, hispanic, jews, etc. It's a great community to live in except for all the gays, I love being where I am at. I love the fact that Imani can meet a lot of kids whose parents are not just black and she gets to see and do a lot with diverse people in this community.

To fill up some time while on this train and ignoring the derelicts and other crazy folks I normally jam to some old school music even though Joie thinks I am too young to know what that is. I flip open my Sony Walkman personal cd player and slid in some old Jodeci while noticing the crowd lessening as the train flies past Depaul University on Fullerton.

At this point, since I am so tired. I just close my eyes and let the trains screeches medicate me as I lean back for a short nap.

A urgent shake on my numbed arm grabs my attention as my heavy lids connect with Chi's dark eyes and I listen to the chuckle of his laughter. "Hey man. Wassup?"

"Man you lucky. I almost pulled some pepper spray on your butt." My finger was on the trigger as we spoke and his eyes looked up in concern as I lifted my heavy thumb of the red button.

"Whew! You don't be playing on here. Sorry about that."

"No problem. Remember, you snooze you lose."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

The way that Chi was glaring at me with those mysterious beady little eyes, I felt a question burning in my soul. "Wassup, Chico. You look like you have something on your mind."

"Well, since you asked, mi hermano...umm. Okay, let's see if I can get this right without fucking it up."

Before Chi could get the information out of his burning mouth my cell phone rang at the same time preventing us from talking about it.

Now, I'm pissed because he's gotten my attention all of a sudden. With a flip of my silver Nokio phone on and with angry brows that drew together in an agonized expression spoke into the phone rapidly, "This is Issac." Listening to the voice on the other end had me smiling instantly and the warmth of my voice returned as I grinned at Joie's laughter on the other end.

"Sorry to bug you honey, but can you pick up some things from Dominick's before you get home. Me, Imani and Mom are at Century Mall." In the background he could hear the gurgling sounds from Imani probably softly chewing on Joie's fingers or something.

"Yes, no problem. What did you need?" He said in a deep tone meanwhile his questioning eyes followed Chi out as he lifted his heavy messenger bag and exited the train at Lawrence Avenue. Chi mouthed to him "I'll call you later."

"Did you hear me, Issac?" Joie hesitantly asked as she felt his conversation fade away.

"Issac are you there?"

"Yes, I'm here. Chi was on the train with me and just left me so I was saying bye and then trying to listen to you at the same time. Sorry. What did you need for the dinner tonight?" He said in a deep-timbered voice that sounded tired and fatigue.

"Honey, you sound tired. Maybe if Imani goes to sleep early we can have a nice massage for you." She flirted through the phone lines and hoped he would want to at least hold her tonight. "You game?"

"I'm game, girl." The velvet murmur of his deep voice tingled through the phone as he shifted his position against the glass, making sure to look at the train signs, and to make sure he wouldn't miss the Berwyn stop. "What you need tonight?"

As I let her silvery tongue give me directions on what to pick up tonight, I always wonder if my role will ever change. Some days I feel like I'm a chauffeur, a butler, and that my position with the family will on be of a man who's bringing in the bread. I've got to find a way to be able to connect with Joie beyond the need for her wanting me to be a provider.

While those thoughts melt and muse in my mind, I grab a hold of my black portfolio, and stride down the street to Sheridan Road to take care of my family needs.

What's in my mind is still the curiosity around Chi's little secret that's hanging over my head. What was he trying to tell me earlier? That's what I'm wanting to know.

In fact, I can't believe I seen him today. It's been more than a few months since we saw each other or hung out. After Imani was born, he disappeared and that's been over a year. He was missing in action and I really wanted to connect with him, but he avoided my phone calls and didn't return my letters or anything and when I saw his brother Shay he acted kind of strange when we bumped into each other one day about one year ago.

It was a normal day after work and I was strolling down Michigan Avenue just near the Disney Store on Chicago Avenue when I spotted Shay. If I remember correctly it was a Tuesday, September 20, 2003 at six o'clock p.m, when I saw him and he approached me with a lot of negativity. I remember that day clearly. It was nice and cool; Indiana summer like and I had a light blue shirt and navy blue slacks on and had taken my jacket off because I had gotten hot. Sweat was dripping from my bare head and I had a white handkerchief in my hand and in the process of wiping my brow when

Shay stepped into my view and sarcastically replied, 'too hot for you?" and then he coolly added, 'Yo', wassup with you, dog?"

Rolling his brown eyes at me, twisting his nervous fingers through his black dreadlocks in frustration, I guess.

Then he spoke with the voice of a man totally tired and fatigued, "Have you seen my brother?"

He looked very edgy when he kept putting his hands in his pockets over and over again as to look for something. I noticed him scratching the side of his face and he kept asking, "You seen my brother, hunh?"

"No, Shay, why, what's up." Shay's eyes were hooked like a hawks. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but he was shaking like an addict and I shook that thought off quickly. I mean, Shay was supposed to be a Store Manager at the Coconut's in Lincoln Park, so I knew that wasn't a problem. Maybe he was just sick today.

'Man, you ain't seen, Chi. I really need to speak with him." He stuffed his hands in the lining of his black Rockawear denim jacket, and turned his head from side to side, then with eyes downcast, left me standing there.

"That's aiight, dog. If you see him though. Tell him to call me at 555-8965. Please." The tone of his voice was sad and lost and then like a ghost he was gone.

I never thought again about that situation until today and seeing Chi after one year. Man, me and Chi used to hang out a lot.

Let me stop all this thinking and get my ass over to the store before Joie pages me again and we end up in a silly argument. Speed walking to the store on the corner of Foster Avenue and Sheridan Road, I roll my eyes at the sight of a crowded parking lot and many folks streaming in and out of the store.

Damn, this is gonna be a long long night.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

It was ten o'clock p.m, and Imani was resting in her bedroom for the first time in a very long time. I had convinced Joie to let her sleep in the bed for tonight. Not only because I miss my wife in my bed but because I need my woman. We were in the kitchen cleaning up dishes from tonight's great dinner with the family and my head was nestled in the back of her neck where my tongue was currently residing until, we decided to slowly talk that walk into the bedroom.

Joie leaned back against me and I massaged the back of her neck and casually asked, "You tired babe." Her eyes were misty as she said, "yeah, I hope Imani gonna be fine by herself tonight."

I reached around Joie to swing her around to face me, soaked in her eyes and wet her thin tasty lips with my full ones as I felt a sudden heat rise between us. "You want to go check in on her before we go to sleep?" I gently asked her while rubbing her semi-cold hands and handing her a blue and white kitchen towel so she could dry the rest of the pots we had washed earlier.

"Can we?" Her light voice peeked up at the possibility as her light eyes met mines in unison.

"Yes, let's go." This is so cool because normally Joie and Imani are already asleep before I get home so I am looking forward to seeing my daughter tucked in and maybe she'll want me to read her a bedtime story. "I think Imani will be surprised by me actually being in the room with ya'll, but I hope she won't be too upset."

"Please, you are her daddy." She kissed the side of my hungry neck, we link our warm hands, and glide towards Imani's room which is a small bedroom filled to capacity with a whole bunch of things. The first thing I notice when we enter the room is a white play pen filled with her various dolls, teddy bears, and building blocks. She even has a number building block which, at the moment, is sprawled across the tan colored carpet in her room. In the right corner of the room, I see the small canopy bed Chi and I setup when Imani, Joie and I returned from the hospital.

A nice white colored bookcase filled with some of Imani's favorite books which included, Dr. Seuss, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Ninja and a slew of Mother Goose nursery rhymes faced us as we went closer to the sleeping Imani, at least I thought she was.

All of a sudden she wakes up wailing like she's on fire or something, I'm not sure of what. Maybe it's the sight of me cause it's not like I ever come in this room too much and it's a damn shame. This is my flesh and blood as well. As I think of how I've been shunned out of Imani's life I am mad at both of us – me and Joie. What the hell were we thinking? This poor child probably will go off if I try to read her a story or hold her. The screeching of her loud voice is scaring me, I hope she will be okay. I see Joie hurriedly reach for Imani like she's the only one in the room.

I don't even react, just stay still as I hear murmurs flow from Joie's mouth as the room goes silent.

I know I shouldn't be too mad, but for one moment, why didn't Joie at least let me try to comfort her.

I know that Joie's pretty much taken care of all that since I've been concentrating on my career track at the company as well as financially trying to become secure. Making sure we are debt-free by the time we secure and get our first home has been my first priority. But maybe we overlooked a very important one.

Loving and raising this child.

I'm staring straight into the eyes of my mother and I finger a warm hand on Imani's red cheeks smoothing down a tear from her blank eyes. At this moment she is reminding me of how I used to cry when my daddy came in from one of his gigs. He too, was never around. I've got to change this. Rubbing her stubby little fingers I see concern in her black eyes that connect with my grey ones. I wonder what's floating in her head as she sees me standing here in her room.

Suddenly feeling like an intruder in my own home, I bend my head to kiss my still wet and sticky daughter and slowly walk out of the bedroom with tears hiding in my eyes, with fear wanting to explode in my mind, and with no hope of ever connecting with the life I helped to create. I don't hold any grudge against my little baby girl and I totally ignore my wife's cries as she hysterically asks me to stay in the room. Even though my heart's a racing, and I feel my sweaty palms mock me as I quietly close Imani's door, and my eyes are clearly ready to let my frustration flow, I stand still as a rock and exhale a huge amount of air, "Whew! Damn, can I keep doing this?" I say aloud to myself as I weigh my opinions.

Stay or leave? If I leave, it's a clean get away. But if I stay, I must deal with the consequences that Joie and I have created by not allowing Imani to be apart of my life. At first when Joie suggested we let her do all the mothering, I said yes, cause I was scared that I'd be a messed up father like mines was. Then as months moved into years into this moment, I just didn't realize how much Joie has done for Imani and how much I haven't.

Why do I need to change things now? I'm no longer needed, not here, not now. I'm just ready to go off and so with rage ready for a good fight, and with my blind mind, I grab my keys off the kitchen counter, and go leaving behind a wailing child and a confused wife in the midst of a very sorry excuse for parents. As far as I'm concerned, I feel like it's time to face the real deal, we have to learn to raise this child, or I'm going to have to raise up out of this apartment. Standing the voyeur of the apartment, I stand chilled to the bone, not sure of if I should leave. Wanting to taste her lips, feel her wonderful energy, be lost in her body just for tonight, but the left over feeling from not being able to contribute as a man in this household is biting me in the butt and I can no longer fake that I'm happy with this. I'm not happy and it's not fair. Whether or not she understands how I feel.

I'm gonna have to make her understand how utterlessly sad and empty I feel every time I enter my home.

While I'm in contemplation mode, I feel a wetness to my white tee-shirt that is soaking the top where my neck and spine meets and I feel Joie's arms surround me as she snivels into my skin, into my being. Her liquified tears are as wet as a river that flows in June with no real reason to stop the flow because there's much pain that needs to be let go. Her lips taste the saltiness of my skin and she's rocking her lips into the sore crook of my neck and I'm reminded that I haven't felt this much from my wife since we've let Imani sleep into the bed.

We are stuck in the middle of the apartment and all I hear is the silence of the house. The creaking of the floor where both of our combined weight shifts from side to side as we move our bodies towards the living room.

My ears catch the zooming of the buses traveling down Sheridan road and the drunkards conversations below as someone is trying to get a hit. Our heartbeats are rhythms that are salsa dancing to the one two three beat that our feet do when we shift to hit the floor right by our couch.

My ears laugh in unison when I feel my wife take my hot lips into hers and says, "I'm Sorry." before claiming them.

This is the wonderful song of love that exudes both our bodies and no other words need to be said. I know this is the reason why I still love her and why I'm still here.

She takes my damp keys out of my lying hands as we fall against each other in waves of uncontrolled love as midnight greets us til morning or the cries from our beautiful child wakes us up again the next day.

Chapter 3

It is Sunday and my rough legs are gloriously wrapped up in Joie's smoother and petite ones as I feel her slow and steady heartbeat flows as my ears pick up a distinctive faint cry near by. I untangle my legs from the twisted position and gently remove myself as I continue to hear the light cries from our daughter. Since her bedroom is near ours, she is just within reach. I grab my old University of Illinois at Chicago tee shirt and slid on my black shorts and jaunt quickly over to Imani limping. My thighs are sore as I worked out hard yesterday with Chi at the basketball court like we used to when we played basketball on the westside with Pharell and the crew. But enough of that. I need to play with my other best girl.

Upon opening the door, I see the weak smile of her because I guess she didn't think no one was coming to rescue her. Her black eyes are starting to remind me of my mother more and more. Peeking over her bed I grab her little hands and being to sing-song her to a little peace and quiet and open and close my eyes quickly as to get her immediate attention. It is after all, six o'clock in the morning and we don't' get ready for church until at least a few more hours. Imani's clear nails are well-coiffed, as Joie cleaned them on yesterday and she's pounding her hands in the small bed that is covered in pink sheets and a huge white Hello Kitty comforter as she is waiting for me to pick her up. Her chubby arms are extended like she's ready to fly up up and away! I'm glad too because after a talk with Joie a few months ago, I was honest and real and let her know I missed the opportunity to be a father and I wanted to take apart of Imani's growth and development.

One of the newest things I have learned to do with Imani is sing songs and do finger games. I am not sure my daddy even did any of these things for me and I'm happy to oblige my favorite girl. The first thing I do is lift her up out of the bed and hug her body, feel her softness, and kiss her redbone cheeks as she gurgles a thank you to me. I think she likes this part of morning with me lately. The change to be alone with me and just soak up my energy.

And the feeling is returned.

As I put her down in her play pen, she stands up strongly chanting, "Da-da! Da-da!" and it's all I can do but not let tears flow because it's only been three months since I've been apart of her daily routine, but it's been worth it. My face is red and I"m holding back the tears but inside my heart I feel like I won a war or something. The air in my chest feels a little bit lighter and as I touch the spot right over my heart, she does the same too. It's just a little much to take and I laugh and so does she.

This room is filled with much love and laughter and I'm so grateful to God. If only he knew the gift he has given me. Or maybe he does. And on this warm summer Indian day in September I am the one who's really happy and blessed.

I gather myself and get real close to her noticing the red sleeping pants and white tee-shirt hugging her thick body as I chuckle. This girl is looking more like her mom every day, especially with those hips. Our eyes begin to communicate as I lean against the wires of the play pen, and place two forefingers on Imani's shoulder and begin to sing loudly.

'Two little black birds sitting on a hill."

My hands climb up her little arms as she wildly laughs outloud.

"One named Jack."

I hold up my pinky finger to show her. And she mimics me immediately.

"One named Jill."

I wiggle my other forefinger and she strongly pokes hers out.

My voice gets louder with the middle stanza as I watch her move her head from side to side.

"Fly away, Jack, Fly away Jill." and my hands are on my hips as I wiggle my fingers and see the huge grin on my daughter's face. I bring both hands together and do it again so she can understand that Jack flies away and then Jill flies away.

I bring both her hands together again as I sing the final stanza.

"Come back, Jack. Come Back, Jill." I bring both her hands to her shoulders one at a time signaling that Jill and Jack should come back to her.

She is loudly laughing at this point and I hear a clearing of a throat behind me as my wife comes to the both of us, flickering her fingertips on my shoulders, saying, "You getting too good at this father thing."

"Good morning, Imani." She softly kisses Imani and grabs my hands bringing us all into in a family huge and I can't say one thing to complain about this love. This energy.

This is what life really is about.

It's been a few hours since Joie has left for a well needed girls evening with her sister Nandi, her mom, and Siah, I am at home restless with Imani. Afterall, the family spent a few hours with the church and it was great. I felt like I'd do something new for my woman. So, I suggested that she go out with the girls tonight.

I know it's a strange request, especially after we spent the day together as a family, but I felt it was time for her to start letting go and stop acting like she's the only one who can nurture our child.

Plus, I think the girls had been bugging her to go out and when I looked at Joie's rough skin, chipped nails, and overall tired appearance - the hung eyes, the wild hair that was all over her usually pretty face, I threw her a few dollars and told her to get out of here and don't come back until she has a smile on her face. Imani threw a pitch as she hollered and screamed with tears falling down her chubby cheeks, but I knew that my woman, needed a fresh start. It has been a while since she has actually gone out with the girls. And it's not like she's the flyy girl she used to be so I wasn't worried about her trying to step out on me. I think both of us has gotten beyond the insecurity that used to bind us. I just wanted to be able to spend some time with Imani alone with no interruptions and I felt like it was time for Joie to let go of some of those maternal strings.

As soon as we go through eating dinner, I pushed two hundred dollars in her hands, and pushed her towards her room so she can call Siah and them to set it up. I think they are going out to the Leg Room and then to a poetry set.

You know my baby, can write some poetry.

Anyway, she was in tears when she realized that I actually was telling her to go, and her mom called right after I spoke with her which really sealed the deal and she decided she would definitely go. She hurriedly kissed me on the cheek, ran to our bedroom, which is located in the back of the apartment down a narrow hallway. She was gone for a few minutes and then emerged from our bedroom looking like a fresh princess out on her first date.

Her black eyes were shiny, her hair upswept into a french bun, and her body was slid into one of the most slinky sexy numbers, I have ever seen. Her arms were exposed as her dress had openings on each shoulders where you could see her soft brown flesh. It was tempting not to tell her to stay home. Her thick legs were pretty in her open toed black and diamond encrusted high heel shoes and her toes were glossy with red perfection. When I reached her face, I saw fresh makeup that was so smooth and natural that I didn't think she'd need anything else to set her off.

She was looking fine with simple silver earrings that I bought her on her twenty-second birthday.

Meanwhile, me with my grey tee-shirt and torn denim jeans, fell in comparison.

You should have seen her when she was preparing to leave though. She was giving me all kinds of cell phone numbers and also the baby sitter's telephone number so that if Imani would get sick or something, I'd have some resources. When she scribbled the numbers on the yellow post it notes thrusting them in my hands and nervously kissed me on the lips - I mean really kissed me when she left, I realized she was really scared.

I soothed her away by patting her on the behind, and gently helping her into her black leather coat and handing her the black and silver Baby Phat purse she loves so.

I waved her away and told her to have fun and then in the pit of my stomach I felt the rumble. I knew that I had no clue what was going to happen with Imani tonight.

Will she get fussy and will I be able to take care of her? I rub on the rough stubble that's growing under my chin as I ponder on this while channel hopping.

Sweat beats are gathering on my brown eye brow as I nibbled on my full lip. I'm hoping I can at least get through the night, kind of wing it, without calling Joie.

I really want her to be able to go ahead and have a good time with the girls and trust me. Plus, how will I ever learn how to raise my child if I don't spend time with her. Long as I'm not as trifling as my mother, doing any inappropriate things around her, I will be fine. I mean, I didn't have the best parents in the world, but I came out alright. Even though my twin brother is a mess and I can't believe we are related, I still love him too.

As I settle into the soft black leather couch we purchased at Wickes Furniture, I recollect on how crazy he was when he was an undergraduate at Prairie State College. At the time, we lived in South Holland and mom was hustling her pastry catering business called Hot Cakes For You. I know the name sounds crazy but my mom can cook some slamming pound cakes, homemade cheese cakes and butter rolls too and she had a good clientele from local businesses and churches.

Anyway, we lived in a tiny starter home and we both had our separate rooms, with me only barely being at home and Isiah, always in some hot water with mom because of the girls he ended up bringing home and sleeping with.

There was this girl named Ameria from Puerto Rico who was in his ten a.m. Intro to Business class. She was a mixed fine sister with long black hair that flowed down her back but she was a hip hop girl. She always had an athletic cap pulled over her head and one could always see the hair thickly braided down to her back. She had a great body and her jeans were always super tight. So tight Isiah used to think that she was going to have to go to the hospital to have those jeans removed. More tight that her second skin, she was a thick hipped girl who wasn't afraid to show her curves.

Whereas most women me and Isiah knew always wanted to hide their shape under big pants, flowing dresses or just unflattering clothes that did not make them as attractive as they could have been.

He started messing around with her, not knowing that she was in a relationship with one of Chicago Height's well known and feared drug dealers, Poncho, who was prone to slit a niggah's throat if he even found out that a brother was even in her face. I mean, I told Isiah from jump street that he needed to chill that situation with her and I warned him not too bring her to the crib. I mean, come one, I asked him to please think about the situation.

He said, he had.

He was thinking that he wanted some of her good stuff and nobody could change his mind. I was thinking he was acting stupid as hell.

So one day I come home and hear a lot of ruckus in the living room, I throw my bags down and see a crazy scene with Isiah, some dude and the latin hottie. Ameria had a hot little number on where her naked skin was out in full force because she was wearing a short black mini denim skirt on and her white silk shirt was half-buttoned with half of her breasts hanging out. The Puerto Rican dude's wild hair was all over his face so I couldn't see him that much. But the nine inch glock hanging out of his black slacks got my attention real quick and before he could respond, I grabbed that mug and slid it right up to his throat with no intention of letting it go. Isiah was panting uncontrollably and visually shaken as sweat was rolling down his handsome face, and his the left side of face was swollen as if he had just been pistol whipped.

With fear in my heart, and my heart beating out of control like a salsa dancing event was taking place inside my body, I pressed the glock even harder even though the sweat from my burning hands made it slip a bit.

With a blank look on my face and a monotone voice I asked him to leave our home before I had to do something else to make him sorry he'd stayed.

The latin hottie pulled her shirt back into place with fingers that slid each button as if it were her last and then she basically ran out of the house without saying a damn word. I was too shocked to say a thing as well and buried myself into my room. When mom got home that day, we didn't say a word. I guess I wanted to erase it like it never happened.

But that's how Isiah is.

He always bring the funk. He think it's fun, but it's not a great way to live.

I wonder what his crazy ass wants. He called me after Joie left for her night out. In my heart I miss my brother but at the same time, I don't really want to deal with his drama. The last time he came to my house, me and Joie almost broke up.

But I guess that's all my fault.

With a hand on my rough skin, I wondered what I could do to get rid of him because there was no way, I was going to let him come and say with me, Joie and Imani.

Not today. Not ever.

I know what you're thinking, that I'm being hard on the brother. But Isiah is the kind of man who loves to do nothing for his own financial well fare, he loves to have women worship him, and is just very lazy and depends on his good looks for everything. And I don't blame everything on him. I blame it on the women who fall at his feet, his bed, giving him everything. He is just a very lazy cat who is so opposite from me that it's like we are fraternal twins. The only difference in us now is that Isiah has long, black dreadlocks and I am bald.

We are both six foot four inches tall of dark chocolate funk. The exception is that I don't let women fall at my feet.

I chose my woman a long time ago.

Isiah just doesn't know how to say no.

With all these thoughts zooming in my head, I hear a faint cry from the end of the hallway. Kind of a like so light that I almost didn't hear it. Maybe it was my cell phone going off or maybe it was the beep from something outside the apartment. It was late. I shook off the feeling and just continued to my channel surfing until my eyelids sang a different song that no one but me could hear. Then I let sleep claim my body. I didn't even bother checking out Imani because I knew she probably was asleep too. I was late in the morning and Joie hadn't gotten back which means she probably crashed at her Momma's or Nandi's if she had too much to drink. Oh well, I settled down and let my body crash comfortably into that space as I clicked off the television and closed my eyes again for the last time.

As soon as I woke up later that night, I knew something was wrong. I opened my tired eye lids to a new song of my skin crawling fear up to my heart. A song of fear that instantly claimed me ringing all up in my head which instantly began to pound and I put my tired fingers over my temples to relieve them. I could hear the birds outside singing, but I didn't hear the movement from Imani's room. I didn't hear her sing-songing voice filling our home. I just knew something was wrong. My eyes darkened with pain as I stumbled from the living room as my heavy feet crashed into trucks in the hallway, various teddy bears and dolls as I pushed myself to peek into her room. My trembling hands were stuffed into the front of my old denim shorts as my breath caught and my fingers chilled me to the bone as they hesitantly turned the knob. Grief and despair tore from my heart as panicked the scene and couldn't tear my eyes from it. A pulsating raw emotion scrapped the tip on my tongue as I hollered out loud, "No!" and ran to Imani shaking her body uncontrollably. But I stopped. I noticed something.

I became aware of her not breathing and felt a strange pull of my heart as I knelt down to lift her sleeping body up into my trembling arms. Her black eyelids were shut tight and no sounds coming from her mouth while she slept and I felt nervous shudders shake my arms as I tried to hold her tight. My mind was languid and on fire at the same time. What was wrong with my baby girl? Why wasn't she breathing? I put my ear close to her mouth and began to hear a light hissing sound coming from her mouth. Shoot! I could barely believe it. I wrapped myself in a cocoon of relief as I realized that she was okay that she was fine. I softly placed her down on the small bed as I cradled her in my arms, laid my six foot length beside my daughter, and fell asleep with her.

A soft pair of luscious lips greeted me in the morning. I looked at the Hello Kitty clock on Imani's pink walls as I heard Joie speak throatily, "Good morning babe."

My heavy lashes that shadowed my cheeks flew right open at her statement.

"Hey, boo. How was last night." I whispered to her as I shifted Imani over trying not to wake her up.

"You have a good time?" I rubbed one of her warm hands as I spoke. I noticed a black sharpie pen in the other.

Apparently she had been up. Knowing her, she probably had written in her journal. She's pretty regular about that thing. At first when I noticed her running her fingers through the page of the blue and white journal she wrote in when we got married, I was jealous. I didn't like her writing her thoughts in that stupid thing. I thought maybe she was keeping secrets in it. We used to argue over her writing in it, but I came to understand, it's like her daily thing - like water for her soul.

She must write her thoughts down. After all, she's a writer and how can she be one if she doesn't flex her writing skills from time to time.

Like I said, if she ain't with the baby, she's always in her journal writing.

"Yeah, it was good. Strange though." She paused briefly looking at Imani near Issac and giggled,

"How did you do with Imani last night." Her eager eyes popped wide open as if to question.

"Pretty good." You think I'm gonna tell her that I got a baby scare last night. No way. But I guess I did pretty well considering. After a long paused, I continued, "So did you perform any poetry last night?"

She glorified in the fact that she has recited poetry and Nandi, Mom and Siah was there to share in that special moment.

"Yeah. It was really nice. Having mom and the crew there was great. Although it was pretty late by the time we finished the poetry. Mom left early and then me, Nandi and Siah went out to the Leg Room."

She pressed her scantily clad body near me and I noticed the thin wave of material covering her body but said nothing. But the grin that covered from my mouth to my smiling eyes said it all. I was happy.

"I'm so glad you and Imani are getting along these days. When you are gone she is always chanting, Da-da!"

We both laughed lightly and I removed my heavy frame from the bed eagerly as my back was beginning to hurt because of the position I was sleeping in.

Joie rubbed the spot where I mentioned was hurting took my hand leading me down the hallway from Imani's bedroom.

Imani was asleep and that meant we could do what grown up folks do when they love each other. Take time to rediscover our essence - together and in our own world.

Chapter 4

It was Thursday and me and Imani were getting ready to go out to spend a day together - all by ourselves. Joie was at work and I took the day off so I could take Imani to the Children's Museum at Navy Pier. The Children's Museum always has great activities for the little ones and that is a thing I wanted to share with her. As I gathered her little legs into her denim overalls and stuffed in her blue tee-shirt, I grinned. This girls know she was looking like Joie more and more every day.

The lining around her mouth was a replica of Joie's small oval shaped mouth but Imani's dark eagle eyes were strictly from my mom. I haphazardly pulled her long black hair into two ponytails with two blue stretchable hair holders while she fidgeted with her hands to stop me because she was tender headed.

I kept on straightening out the ponytails smoothing down her curls on the side of her face with some Jam gel.

"Ooh, da-da. Hurt!" She winched as her lips turned downward in a frown, "Stop!"

She hissed and pouted her brown lips further.

"Stop it yourself. I'm almost finished." While she fidgeted I saw a journal peek from under her crowded playpen and fingered it from underneath it. My hands touched the hard covering as I noticed the scrawling writing on the front cover. It said, "DO NOT ENTER OR THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES". The writing was pretty and flowery like Joie. Full and with a lot of life, but as I touched the pages, I couldn't help but let my eyes skim the pages.

Opening the first page I laughed as I read a section where Joie was talking about some of Imani's funnier moments. A few pages down from that was Joie talking about how she hated her boss Nancy Powers who was boring and also very shady when it came to certain things. I guess Joie was right, I am always tripping on her. Maybe it's my own insecurity.

But right now I'm very curious so while Imani fingers her Hello Kitty doll and sits on the floor singing silent songs to herself, I continue hold the journal in my hand contemplating if I should just put it back down. This is my wife's personal space. But there's a nagging feeling attacking my soul. I want to know why she has to run to a funky piece of material and jot her thoughts down in it, when she could just tell me her true feelings.

WE are supposed to be best friends.

Her best friend shouldn't be a diary of sorts.

With that thought pushing me on, I flip a few pages down and soak in more of her words when my eyes read the journal entry on September 13th which was over a week ago. Her thoughts on this day, seem very rambling. The writing is very scattered and I couldn't make all of the words out but a few stuck out. In bold letters she writes in red ink I MUST LEAVE HIM. At seeing those words my gut feels like raw like someone just pulled out a piece of me and chopped it up into little pieces to be delicately cooked. The air is sucked from my lungs and a frown comes upon my face as I shut the book and leave it alone, sliding it right under the play pen. My fingers feel like fire after touching apart of her private soul.

Now I'm wondering, who is she talking about? I mean, she has to be speaking about me. I don't know what to do with this feeling at all. Stick it under my tongue like a bitter pill suck on it until it tastes sweet again?

With those words haunting me I shove the wicked journal and those words in a deeper place ignoring those thoughts completely as I grab Imani and take her down to our crowded kitchen so I can prepare a bag of snacks for while we are out at the museum. All I can hear is the beat of Imani's little legs as she beats me to the kitchen and she drags her Hello Kitty doll with her finding a place on the floor underneath the kitchen table.

On top of the brown kitchen table, I open a white and blue baby bag and stuff some bananas into a plastic bag, and cut apples slices to go into a plastic sandwich bag. Meanwhile I reach up to our cabinet and get a two boxes of raisins, some fat reduced crackers, and a few bottles of water. Keeping my eyes on her while preparing the bag, I go into the refrigerator to search for some cheese sticks for Imani because that is one of her favorite things to snack on. Plus, I am not getting any McDonalds from that overly expensive Navy Pier and I don't feel like standing in any lines other than the ones we will be standing in to see the exhibits.

On the top of the refrigerator I see the old copy of Joie's favorite childhood book which is "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" which Imani loves to hear and see so I also drop that into the bag and I grab her from under the table, we head out the door to our destination, The Chicago Children's Museum.

Upon arriving at the museum, Imani's big black eyes are wide as a whales as she soaks in all the different colors and other kids who are roaming around the place. Her oval face is bright as she cranes her neck around to peek at all the bright colors of the pier. We walk from the entrance of Navy Pier through the vending area where I basically had to hurry her along because she became enthralled with the mosaic hanging jewelry sold at one vendor.

With the bumping of the heavy bag on my side and her on the other, we trod along at a frantic pace so we can get into the museum before it really gets crowded. We were shooting for noon but Imani had to be changed into a fresh diaper before we left the house. She should be okay for the next few hours. Actually we have not had to change her a lot lately and I feel like we will begin potting training her pretty soon. There's less and less diapers we are using.

Joie is getting happy about that. She's already preparing for head start programs and we are looking forward to that. A good time for our little Imani.

As I glean her long body and notice that she's over two feet inches and that she's growing pretty good for a girl. Joie does a great job in making sure that she spends an equal amount of time teaching Imani how to eat properly and Joie is eating the same way she is teaching her to do. I love that about Joie. She's a good mother. And it's amazing because Joie used to over eat really bad in her earlier years but she found her way before we got together and even though she did gain a few pounds since she's had Imani, she is maintaining a nice weight. I think that's because she doesn't want her daughter to get diabetes like Joie's father.

I feel the tug of Imani's hands as she points wildly at the entrance of the museum and we glide up the elevator upwards. "Da-ddy! Look..." imani finger waves near the " Treehouse Trails" section as we pass the playmaze which is totally full with all kinds of kids. You hear bumps as children run, rumble and have fun in the maze. Once we get to the trails section Imani pulls me toward the huge treehouse which have green foliage all around it on the outside of it, a huge trail of dark path of fall leaves and I hear chirping of birds when we entered the space. Lines of single mothers, and other parents holding the hands of little ones greeted us when we started walking up the path. On the outside of the treehouse we saw a canoe area that had play pretend water and children were playing with plastic and homemade boats down the canoe area.

Imani's little fingers grabbed harder onto mines as we climbed up the treehouse and I bended my six foot plus inch body into the treehouse to climb near her as we played in it. I put my bag on the side and I heard the scurry of Imani's black mary jane shoes as she dug her body further into the treehouse. Imani's infectious giggles fill the air and I am happy. So happy to spend this time with her. I don't even remember what my father and I did together and I know most of my time, I spent with my Aunt Jamie who took me in when my mom was out doing her partying thing.

The buzzing of my cell against my hip gets my attention taking me away from Imani for a split second and I flip the phone on but still have her in my line of sight.

"Yep."

"Yo' man, it's Chi."

"Hey, man. What's up."

"Nothing, where you been? Shay says he hasn't seen you in a while."

"I guess you forgot I'm a father, like I'm spending time with my daughter right now. We are at the Children's Museum."

"For real, I'm not too far. Maybe we can meet for lunch or something - "

"Look man, I got to get off this phone." At this point, I'm craning my neck to make sure that Imani is doing fine. And she is. She's chatting with another two-year-old girl and they are playing near the front of the tree house. "Can you call me later?"

"How about me and Shay come by the house later?"

"Maybe you can, just holler later and I'll let you know what the little lady says."

"Man, come on, ain't you the man of the house?"

"Chi, please, you ain't married, so I don't expect you to understand."

"Aiight, I got to go, I'll call you later. We need to talk."

Shaking my head at Chi's comment, there is a cold feeling to my stomach when he mentioned coming by. I don't even want him and Shay coming in our crib. Shay always brings trouble and Chi has been acting shady with his mysterious comments. I'm wondering what he really wants from me. We ain't spoke since the train incident and I still don't know what his babble was all about. The crying of Imani returns my attention as I notice her wailing on the floor, wet angry tears rolling down her face and her mouth stretched to capacity so the whole world can hear her voice. I slide the Cingular cell phone on my hip and race to her side open my bag and get some baby wipes and tissues handing her one and soothing her with soft words until she calms down.

Around mid-afternoon, Imani starts to yawn and we walk towards the entrance the Museum, placing our feet on the elevator and make our way over to the exit from the Pier. Imani was unusually quiet but I think that's because she ate all the snacks I brought for her including all of her water and fresh fruit snacks. She didn't want the cheese sticks at all and was very mad that I didn't bring some peanut butter to go with her crackers. I didn't know that was a favorite of hers and I'll have to note that for the next time we go out on an outing.

As we slowly walk out of the Pier, Imani's feet begin to drag signally her tiredness. She stretches her arms upward and I pick her up and I walk toward the Cab stand to wait there for a cab to take us to Foster and Sheridan. That way, Imani can take a little nap, and we'll be home in fifteen minutes since it's only four p.m.

Joie will get off work at five o'clock and if we went by there I think Imani will be very frustrated and very hard to manage.

So, I'm voting to get her home, relax, and cook some dinner for Joie and surprise her. It's been a while since I've actually been able to do that for my baby.

I put my hand out and signal a cab, grab it, then slid me and Imani in it. I lay her against my chest and feel her eyelids shut and quietly tell the cab driver to drop us off on Foster and Sheridan. Letting the bag slid in between the door and us, I sigh a relief, I'm actually doing well as a father. I'm blessed so much and I have Joie to thank for this.

She's letting me see what she was blessed with in the beginning. Now, there's no need to be jealous about Imani replacing me in Joie's life. But there's that nagging thought as I remember what I read in Joie's journal.

I thought we were past holding secrets. Umm. I wonder what is really going on.

The screech of the cab's tires, get my attention, and I flip a $20 dollar bill towards the cab driver, thanking him at the same time, gathering a sleepy Imani, and walking towards the apartment building, passing the doorman Roger, and then noticing a movement behind my back.

Suddenly I'm feeling the cold of a gun pistol in my back and I grab a hold of Imani a little stronger.

The whisper in my left ear is a lethal threat, "Keep moving and walk like we are friends, FRIEND, you got it." I did and I said nothing as I hoped, no I prayed that Imani would not wake up.

I press the down button for the elevator and hope the beat of my heart is not as loud as it appears. I am so scared that I feel a pressure in my loins and hope I won't urinate on myself. This anonymous person is dressed in black and has a hood over his head so I can't exactly tell who he is. I do notice though that he is chewing on a tobacco stick and the stink of it is opening my nostrils. I also inhale the strong scent of african oil from this man's body. He is about six foot two inches with dark hands, that is all that I can tell so far. In the slit of my eyes, I catch a image of a knife in his left pocket so I pretend to not notice and hold my breathe.

Praying. Praying all the way that Joie won't come home til late. Praying that nothing will happen to Imani. Praying that if I get this niggah some money, he'll leave us alone.

We step onto the elevator and I feel the movement of Imani as the slobs from her mouth gathers into a mess on my black denim jacket but I don't say a thing. Sweat beads are gathering near my temples and I itch to touch them but that too, I must act like there's nothing wrong. I don't want to scare my baby but I'm definitely at a loss.

Our floor is up and I am scared to face that fool so I shuffle my feet towards our apartment on the fifth floor, softly drop the bag I was holding, and jiggle the keys out of my crowded jean pocket. I'm concentrating on the number on my gold front door key 8976 while trying to soothe Imani on the back, I feel her fidgeting which means she is about to wake up.

I drop the keys which wakes her up fully.

"Ahhh! Ahhh." A frown is upon her face.

"Shut up that child, man." The dark voice commands me.

"Okay. Just let me get the key in" I'm nervous as hell now and I feel like a chump. First I wake her up and second the man is about to probably kill my butt. I need to breath and take another stab at getting us in the apartment and hope no noisy person is looking at this scene. Let me change my mind about that. Maybe it will be good to have someone check it out. Maybe they could call the police. I hurry up and slid the key in the door, turn it quickly and bring us into the foyer of the apartment all the while straining my ear for Imani's cries which have turned into little sniffles.

"Da-ddy." She hiccups.

"Who dat man?" Her little eyes peer up to the stranger with fright because of all the black he wearing.

"A friend, now come on in here." I calmly tell her this while hoping that Joie is running late or working overtime. Maybe her mom or Nandi has an after work thing plan for her. Anything to keep her from being here.

The stranger shuts the door while I lay down the baby bag on the floor near the hallway gold lamp which I turn on, and then I notice who's the stranger and it really spins me for a loop.

"Isiah, what the hell you doing here? Like this?" I had to stop myself from calling him all the negative things that laid in my heart. Why do this and now?

"I need some money." A blank stare on his face greeted me while he shifted for something in his pocket, and then I saw them, silver bullets which he began to load in the gun. "Right now or I take your precious little girl." A snarl on his face proved it.

I couldn't believe it. I stood there with my feet glued to the ground. Even Imani stopped her playing and tears were gathering in her eyes as she watched my reaction. She's such a smart little girl mostly because of her mother I believe.

Did I dream up this damn nightmare? The last time I saw Isiah he was out on Cermak Road trying to peddle some money from people. I can't believe he went from being the player to being played by all his ladies and now he's out here bad. I think Mom tried to tell me something about him but I just ignored her. Now looking at the same features I have, the strong chin, the round light eyes, the smooth skin -there's a sadness to his eyes. And his skin looks flushed and awfully tired like he hasn't rested in ages. He looks rough around the edges and starved.

And speaking of edges, Imani's eye gaze is glued to Isiah as she begins to sign song 'Da-ddy!" to him coming closer to him.

"No, he's not your daddy." I speak softly. "This is your uncle, Isiah."

"I-za-uh?" She questions to me.

"Yes, Isiah." She looks so confused. I mean, why shouldn't she be? We both look the same, except for the healthiness of our bodies and souls. I'm more defined and Isiah is not. He probably haven't worked out since he gave up his player card and began trying to hustle old ladies for their credit cards and other things. Isiah is the one who makes Momma cries. With his addictions to Cocaine and Heroine, his womanizing, and his avoidance of responsibilities. He's the one with children in several states including, here in Illinois, Kansas and Florida.

He probably ain't paid his child support in years. And those women got to be struggling. I am pissed as I stand there glaring hate for my brother. On one hand I love him because he's family. On the other, I hate what he has done and how Momma has treated him like a baby. Probably the reason why he hasn't straightened up yet. And why he probably is on his way to jail again.

We stand there for a minute and I hear keys in the door and then the creaking of the front door signally Joie's entrance.

My eyes peel away fear and try to replace that with happiness for I know if she sees fear in my eyes she will break down. I need her to be strong. Hell, I need to be strong. I soak in her beautiful figure when she rolls in the house, throwing off her black leather coat, I notice her hot pink and green gym shoes and the frown on her face, which means, she is still stressed from work. I hope she doesn't notice this fool here where all black, holding a gun, but he's hidden since he heard the jiggle of her silver keys and the soft sounds from her gym shoes. Yes, he's a coward. Coming here. And to think I let this ignoramus come into my home, screw some chick, got into an argument with Joie about it and almost lost her love. Yes, this numbed out blockhead is back to mess up my life and it's today. It's today that he wants to come and interrupt my family, my life.

What a mess.

I notice the confused frown on Joie's face as she drops her blue and white book bag. Her eyebrows are raised up in a zigzag as she asks me, "Hi, honey, why are all you guys standing here in the foyer?"

"Nothing. We just got here." I move towards her to block the view of Isiah's gun which was in her plain view. "Let's go to the living room." I dared Isiah to say a word even though I knew sooner or later he'd pull it out. The silent buzzing of my cell phone in my pocket reminds me I still have a chance to do something. Maybe go to the bathroom and dial Chi's number and whisper for help.

"Mommieeee!" Imani pops up from the floor and jumps up to scream joy as she tattles away. "We had fun today. Went to the museum. It was fun..."

I hear the pounding of Imani's feet go towards the living room and the lisp of my brother brings me back to the reality of the situation.

"Man, I want some money." He whispered. "I don't want no harm from ya'll. Just need some money so I can handle my biz. You dig?"

He gestured towards his gun, which was thrust in his front pocket. He rubbed it like he was going to take it out again.

There was a sour taste in my mouth; the after taste of the cheese sticks with no crackers I had chomped on during Imani and my lunchtime at the Pier. Gazing at my brother's light eyes, I had to wonder how he got to this place. Not only was he threatening me, he was interrupting my damn life. He had a lot of nerve.

I scanned the living room took in the nice place, Joie and I had gathered together during our short two years of marriage and stuttered. "Man, why don't you take the television, and pawn it." I felt the pinch of the vibrating cell phone which I had to ignore because I needed to see if I could possibly fix the situation. That probably was Chi calling me back.

"No. I need some real money. Like $1,000." He muttered under his tongue and ground out, "Man, I know you got it. Look at all this." His hand gestured to the Thirty-Five Inch Sony Television, our precious music collection which includes Oldies like Al Green, Ohio Players, JoDeci, New Edition, old skool rap, some contemporary Gospel and more. Our three hundred cds were organized by musical genre, in our black and silver, CD rack we got off of Storehouserock.com. The black leather couch and love seat faced Isiah and I as we stood off from the living room and there was a black smoky glass table dining room set which cost us at least $400.00 but who's counting. We earned all of this stuff. He looks at it, as if it were easy to earn.

He's looking for cash to burn and if he thinks I am going to give him that, he's so wrong.

"Man, let me see what I can do. I'll go get my check book and have Joie fix you something to eat."

I had hoped that he would at least let me do that. Fidgeting in my pocket, I took out a $100 bill and stuffed in his hand hoping that it would fill his empty soul. At least it was something.

With a wicked grin on his face, "No doubt, this counts as down payment."

He flipped the big wad of green dollars in the air, bent it, smelled it, and smiled. "Yeah, this is all good."

I walked towards my wife and asked her what she was cooking. She caressed me on the face, gently kissing me, and I pinched her hips as she quipped, "Smothered chicken, homemade gravy, with sauteed onions and mashed potatoes. Is that okay?"

"It's cool. Can you make an extra plate for Isiah while I go take care of something." I lingered near her soft sweet skin and let my tongue stay there for a minute. When I looked up I saw Joie's blush and Imani yelp,

"Oooh, Daddy, kissed mommy." She covered her little eyes and looked through her fingers as I bent down to kiss her smelling her baby lotion that opened my nostrils instantly.

"Now, you girls take care and I'll be right back."

In a dazed state, I slowly let my feet take me to our bedroom, noticing the beautiful wedding picture on our green and black dresser drawer which revealed a thinner Joie and a more innocent me. I felt hesitation dance with my soul like it was on fire. The aroma of chicken floated back to the spot where I was and I let my fingers dig into my secret box under the second cabinet drawer. Flipping open the navy blue checkbook, I noticed that money was tight as usual and I wished we had the $900 remaining he needed, but I didn't see it. Dang, now, what was I going to tell him.

I felt screams of doubt mock me as I searched my empty mind for a solution to this problem. I mean, I could call Chi and ask him if he had the extra money, but that man is always up shadiness. So is his brother, Shay.

Fear and anxiety knotted inside me like an unfurled ball of fire as I walked towards the living room. It was empty and I didn't hear Imani's two-year old chatter or any adult mutterings. I was nervous. Why was it so quiet. My heart was chanting panic to me as my feet shifted towards the kitchen.

A quick and disturbing thought filled my soul as I entered an empty kitchen.

There was no chicken smell at all.

I noticed a half-cooked portion of chicken legs in Joie's favorite iron pot. On the counter space I saw a few potatoes and a knife but they were not even pealed. My eyes took a glimpse at the whole scene and sheer black fright swept through my body. I gripped the counter space with hands that were shaking so bad that I almost lost my tight grip.

A flicker of apprehension swept through me as I noticed a white note with black scribblings on it.

My eyes glazed over the hastily written words with a few word sticking out in my mind. STUPID BROTHER OF MINES...I TOLD YOU I WANTED MONEY. DON'T CALL THE POLICE. OR YOU WILL NEVER SEE YOUR WIFE OR CHILD AGAIN.

I dropped the note and fell to the floor and with it everything I ever thought I knew about Isiah disappeared.

When I woke up, I hear the ticking of the clock, the faint zooming of buses on Sheridan Road and nothing else. I feel the hard floor below me and cold slob from my mouth on the floor which I obviously felt asleep on. The salty after taste of whatever I ate a few hours ago is on my tongue and I pull myself off the cold ground as I whiff the lingering smell of Joie's half-cooked meal.

My eyes squint in the darkness as I try to make my way to the living room and before I do, my ears pick up the "Sweet Sticky Thang" by Ohio Players sing loudly from my Cingular cell phone.

With a raspy voice I yell, "Yes."

"You so stupid, brother of mines. I told you to give me the money. All of it. Now, you have to pay."

Silence greeted me as I tried to respond but Isiah had already disconnected the phone. Awkwardly, I bumped my way through my empty home.

Missing her touch. Missing my baby. Missing the chatter of Imani. Missing taste of Joie's sweet sweet lips.

I can't believe this fool has kidnapped my family.

With trembling hands, I feel my way back to the bedroom and bump into the small dresser to the left of our King sized bed that was draped in Green and Black silk comforters and sheets. My eyes spots Imani's Hello Kitty and big juicy tears roll down my face, I begin to sniffle and wonder why today? Through a maze of liquid that is streaming on my cheeks, I hear the single jingle from my phone again, except it know exactly who it is.

"Hey man." My voice breaks as I answer, "Joie and Imani's been kidnapped."

"Hold on, dog." Chi voices gets stern as he clears his throat, "Now tell me how it happened
Chapter 5

Funny how time slips by without a notice. Ever since Joie and Imani were kidnapped, I threw away my overly expensive Fossil watch. I don't want to see what time it is I don't care about the clocks in this house. I hate to sit here being comforted by my friends and family, especially my mother who still doesn't believe Isiah came here and destroyed my peace of mind on September 17th. Forget all her self-denial, for as I sit here and hear the idol chatter of Siah, Nandi, Sandy and Mom, I can't feel nothing at all but hate for Isiah. Forget all that mumbo jumbo about his substance abuse problem.

Hell, if we want to keep it real, he's been bugging out for years.

Everything I said about Joie in the last few months fade away as I sip on this dry class of Chardonnay and half eat the smothered steak that Sandy prepared earlier. I've been toying with the brussel sprouts and the cold dinner roll on my plate is so unappetizing that all I can do is wish it away. I hope I can wake up and not dream that my wife and child have been out of my space, out of this home for over a month.

I had to take off work indefinitely and I really don't care. My boss, Richard Bloomington, said I could take off as much time as I needed. But I don't care no more.

I want my baby back. I need Imani back.

I don't want to lay in my bed alone no more. I regret everything I ever said about Joie's stupid Journal.

I rather have here at home writing in her journal, than me all alone, being consoled by family who still don't understand why Joie and Imani are not here.

I've heard their murmurings about it being my fault.

And maybe it is.

I push myself away from the table and hear the softness of Sandy's voice.

"Honey, you okay." Our eyes connect in that grief-stricken kind of way.

"Yeah, just need some space. I'll be right back."

My eyes travel to where Siah and Nandi are laughing their heads off at the Chris Rock DVD "Never Scared". Nandi's daughter Crystalle is laying on the floor and silently reading a book. Siah is on the phone with her fiancee Corey Johnson. Some things never change. Everyone is acting like things are fine.

I can't even make myself eat a whole meal. Things aren't fine.

I feel suffocated. No air in my lungs. I need to leave here, or I'll throw up all this chicken. The taste on my tongue is bitter sweet. Forget this Chardonnay. I swing the glass back and forth as I try to finish it. The tang of the sour grape is making me ill. IN one whoosh, I finish it place it down on the crowded table filled with plates, glasses, and the smell of smothered meat fills the air. I notice the lonely brussel sprouts and white rice on my plate, but I can't put another mouthful. I push myself up and begin the journey to my haven. My bedroom.

I need the comfort of our bedroom, I mean. To remember, Joie. To honor, Imani.

My bare feet connect with the hardwood floor and I glide towards the bedroom feeling the coolness of the floor haunting me. Ever since Joie's been gone, I have read every journal she has put a pen onto. I see her pain, her insecurity, her wounds, her happiness, her everything. I wish we could have taken the time to speak. To tell the truth to each other.

I should have not had to read her journals in secret like a thief.

My tired eyes are filled with frustration as I stop to answer my phone.

"Hello."

"Man you sound tired."

I lay myself on the bed, propping up my feet, and yawning, "I am. We need to bring in the police. Too much time gone by, dog."

"Just lay low. I think Siah's boyfriend - Corey, the cop. Will have a break soon. Hold on – .

I spit out my heavy voice cutting him off completely like a hungry lion. "Two more days of this, and I'm going to find him myself. If he don't return them in two days I am going to kill him. I ain't playing."

"Issac -"

"Man, no offense, but I need my family back with me."

My anger through the line cut to him like a knife.

"Okay. I got you."

The silent click of the phone brought me back the stark reality of the situation. What if Joie or Imani did not return. How can I live with myself if that happened.

I have to live with the consequences of my actions. Maybe I should just go ahead and call them now and see if they can find my family.

My loving wife. My beautiful baby. Return my life as it was before.

I can't lay here and do nothing.

The clinging of the phone in my sweaty hand felt slippery and wet.

"Yes, can I report a kidnapping?"

Gritting my teeth like a cast iron between my usually hungry teeth and holding on the dear phone for life, I am embarrassed and pissed off to tell them how long my wife and child has been missing, "Over one month. My wife is five foot nine inches, with long black hair..."

I grab a hold of my head and lay back against the bed answering all the questions as I feel my body become numb. Their questions fly over my head and consume my thoughts.

Where is Joie at? What is she thinking? Does she even still love me? What about Imani? Lord, what have I done to deserve this punishment?

My mouth gets tighter like someone's stuffed a million cotton balls in it. My throat feels itchy. My eyes water but I won't let myself cry.

No sense in allowing myself to drown in self-pity.

After the phone conversation, I hear a light knock at the door. It is Sandy and she's crying.

"Baby, did you call the police?" Her alto voice squeaks at me as if I'm ten years old and she's trying to sooth me after a bad day at school.

"Yeah."

"Thank God. We been waiting far to long to do that."

She comes into the room and wails into my arms.

'Thank you for calling. I want my ba-by, back home!"

She sniffles wildly into me as we wallow in pity for a minute more.

Then I heard Nandi screaming with a warning in her voice, "Mom - Issac. The police are here." Her eyes were wet like but she held back as she tried to calm her nerves and others.

It's been four hours and now the police are crawling over our home, picking through all kinds of stuff, and speaking of stuff, I hope they ain't found my stash. I mean, I never told a soul that I have had certain issues but I do. But it's for a good reason. I needed it. I needed it at the time and it never affected me. I hope they don't find it. I would hate to explain that to Mom or the family. It would be so embarrassing.

It's just something I did to pass the time. Unlike my brother, I know how to handle my life. He's weak.

I ain't. I look around the bedroom and spot the silver box with a lock on it and hope to God they don't' ask to see it. I don't feel like explaining nothing to nobody. I remove it and stick it in Joie's old college trunk under her eighth grade graduation dress and old prom dress. Wiping the dust off my hands a twisted look takes me over as a twinkle in my eye shines powerfully.

What I do is nobody's business. This is between me and God and if he forgives me, then I forgive myself. Everyone deserves a second chance.

Besides I ain't never hurt a soul.

Laughing out loud to cover my annoyance, "Man you tripping." Besides who would ever believe it. I am the good twin, not the bad one. I giggle to myself and shake my head, touching my red nose, and whipping it around cleaning it with a napkin.

"Naw, they won't ever believe it."

I bring my long legs to stride down the hallway and join the others. Sandy, Momma, and Chi stayed while Nandi, Charles and Crystalle left the house a while ago. I'm glad Crystalle left. She reminds me far too much of what Imani will be in a few years, a little fire of ball and then some. That is, if we get to see her again. I slide my long legs under and sit on the floor, absently rummaging my hands through some old pictures of my family. But I don't see nothing. The images blur as my eyes blank out again.

The police explained that they don't believe she is alive. That my cracked out brother might have killed her. No one has seen Joie or Imani since that fateful day. Officer Delaney said that the chance that Imani will return is slipping. For some reason they feel that Isiah targeted her first and then took along Joie just because she was there and didn't want to leave a witness.

All the joy in my heart is gone and I put my hands together for a prayer to the one above. I promise I'll make it up to Joie when she returns God. Please don't let them get hurt.

My mouth gets tighter as I remember the last phone call Isiah placed her to get more money.

"Man, you better up more money than that! I know you can pony up a few grand more. " He ground out and I heard Imani's cries in the background.

"Your little girl is so beautiful man. So pretty. Dayum shame she is so young though"

"What did you say...you sick you know that, bruh?"

I sarcastically spit through the phone lines. Trying to get myself through the conversation without messing it up, I glance at Officer Delaney mouthing, "calm down."

So I take a breath and continue in a monotone voice. "Man, I am doing the best I can."

"Yeah, right." A slew of expletives flow from his mouth at Joie and I hear rumbling and a loud thump that peeled the fear off me again.

"Isiah, what are you doing?"

"You better be concerned that you get that money, or your fine ass honey and baby, won't be returning."

And with that final point, he disconnected the phone. Fortunately that time they were able to get the number he called from. What they didn't know was that Isiah was a little more smarter than we gave him credit for.

My eyes set on the black clock with green hands in the middle of the wall facing me. I can't believe it's almost midnight.

At this point ain't no need to pretend. This is a farce.

If Joie comes home alive, I will be lucky.

REAL LUCKY.

Right now, things aren't looking good. I nervously wring my hands as my body shakes a bit. I really need a drink or something. I don't want to escape at all. I just want to stay up and be ready to receive any news they have for me. I feel so damn helpless.

I'll lean back for now on this bed, grab onto whatever sanity I have left, and let my mind at ease. Ain't no need in worrying about stuff I can't control. This is a crazy situation that I cannot control. I'll let everyone else fall apart and be the glue that keeps this all together.

It is now Four A.M. in the morning. I hear the dawning of a new day but it's not exciting as it used to be.

The sweet eloquence of morning's yawning reminds me of what I don't have right now. Streams of light flow through the window pane Joie and I used to gaze through at Five A.M. back in the early days. The days when we dreamed together and shared our fears together. Before Imani came and before I had to work long hours just to make ends meet. Before she lost her huge position at SBC and before we started cutting each other off with excuses on why we couldn't spend anytime together. Yes, the dawning of a sweet brand new day used to be our friend as we linked our hands together and really spoke to each other.

In the days we believed in each other.

Not, like now.

My fingers stroke two day old stubble on my chin as I ponder on how Imani and Joie are doing. Where are they? In a grimy old place or a nice one? Is Isiah taking good care of them? Is Imani being fussy pissing off Isiah?

So many questions and no place to put the answers.

Before I could ponder further, I hear the peal of the phone ringing and I wonder if the police is still staked out in the apartment.

My sleepy fingers clamp over the phone while I fight covers from blocking my voice, "yes." Suddenly tangled in a bed that is filled with Imani's baby dolls, Joie's journal, and six huge pillows that won't allow me to breathe while speaking.

"I'm so sorry, baby brother..." I hear crying in the background, hizzing of tires, and a woman's high pitched voice sounding like a siren's.

"Who is this..." I catch my breathe as I finally throw the heavy green and black comforter off my body and lean up against the empty wall behind me. Now, I'm fully awake and in my stomach I want to calm down the nerves that are sizzling to break free.

"Isiah, is that you?" My ears get wildly bugged out by the intense sound of his voice cracking through the phone. I rub my ears and try to keep the phone away from my ear. All I hear is screaming, crying, and screeching tires. Where ever were they at?

"Issac, I am so sorry. Man this is Isiah. She... She was in the way. Man, I didn't mean to do it. I swear on God that I didn't mean to do it. Man, I love you. I miss you. I am sorry. Please don't hate me! If your stupid ass would have just given me the money..."

The voice is pleading with an out of control female to calm down. Sounding like an apology and choppy at the same time. I just wondered why Isiah was crying. Through his words, I can feel the pain seep through the phone lines.

"It was an ac-ci-dent!" and the sound of air greets me as an eerie feeling consumes my soul.

A plain clothes detective with blue jeans and a white tee shirt that says, "We Do It Best!" runs in to me and shouts, "Yes, we got the number, finally. Thanks for keeping him on the line."

He tips his blank black cap and closes my door and Sandy, Nandi, Charles and Chi rushes in to me and I fall away as I feel numbness take control over my entire body and everything fades to black.

Chapter 6

I hate him.

It's a shame I have to even have to sit by him. My fingers are pressed into the pink and black crumpled program before me which says it all; "Beloved daughter and friend, Imani Janita Campbell, will you forever be in our hearts." I try not to touch Issac but mom glared her evil stare at me and now I feel guilty for not allowing my husband to touch me. My fingers trail the back of the brown church pew as we all sit all huddled together like we are a football team of sorts- me, mom, Sandy, Chi, Siah, Issac and Crystalle.

My velvet black dress is twisted sideways because I'm sitting by a really thick sister that squeezed herself at the end of our row, even though she ain't family and we were supposed to be sitting up here with just family I am glad she's hear to celebrate Imani's life.

When it was announced on Channel 7 news that a little baby had been kidnapped and killed the whole Uptown and Edgewater community turned out for what was supposed to be an intimate family goodbye session. Over three hundred folks showed up to the church and Reverend Moses said he had not seen this many people in a funeral in a long long time. Being it was a child who was not only killed but suffocated, it just brought everything down to a human level. Many of the people in this community have children, used to see me and Imani walking down to Foster Avenue Beach, or going to Dominick's to get groceries. Even some of the employees of the McDonald's on the corner of Foster and Sheridan, came to show their respects.

The worst part of this whole ordeal is that our family is exposed. I know I should be thinking about losing my child but I'm trying to escape this feeling. The feeling of having your heart tore apart. Not knowing your husband, hating him, wanting to slap his mother for doing whatever she did to produce such a deranged person, or just not knowing what to do with this guilty feelings. Maybe this was all my fault. But I can't blame myself. No, I blame Issac for making his brother made. Why didn't he just give Isiah a bounced check and the account overdraw itself? All the humming in the world ain't going to bring back my child. Looking at the somber faces of Momma, who is in shock, but she still is supportive of my husband. Nandi is taking it awfully hard as she rocks back and forth with Charles rubbing her back and Crystalle is still Momma for Imani saying she needed to show her something new. The tears clearly shown in my mom's eyes says it all. This is screwed up. This is sad. This is not right.

I should not have to bury my child before I die.

I'm waving the fan in my face trying to cool myself down and keep my red fingers. I am trying to keep myself real busy but afraid that if I stop moving my hands, I will just break down and won't ever be glued back together again. My brown eyes are not smiling today. I mean, I just lost my daughter over some family bullshit and Issac hasn't even said, I'm sorry yet. I mean, he didn't kill Imani, but his crazy cracked up brother Isiah did. I rub the back of my tense neck, sigh a strained relief, and wipe tears that keep rolling down my cheeks. My fingers are now biting into them to stop the liquid from disobeying my soul.

As the choir sings Imani's favorite song, "I'll fly away", I can clearly recall how I felt when I came home from the abandoned home Isiah had kept us at. I couldn't say nothing. My vocal chords were itchy and I had been screaming and crying and pleading with Isiah for days to let us go. He didn't even want to let me feed Imani. Imani's little eyes turned red and she became addicted to the taste of those ten cent flavored juices and bags of Jay's hot potato chips. That is all we ate during our abduction.

And if we were lucky, he'd pick up some greasy two dollar cheeseburgers with french fries and a fifty cent pop.

Isiah rambled on and on about the money Issac owed him and why he was jealous and hated his brother; during his rants I used to sing songs to Imani so she could fall asleep in the drug infested, rat inflicted place we slept at night.

We huddled in card board boxes and made beds out of them, stuffing old newspapers on them, around them and if we were lucky, I'd find some old clothes and rolled them together, pull a plastic bag around it to make a pillow for Imani. As these memories flood my head, I join the thirty-piece Choir at New Life Missionary Church.

My mouth stretches to fill this church with love and joy even in the midst of grief.

"Some glad morning when this life is over. I'll fly away.

While the choir angelic voices float through the air near me right on the front pew.

I remember.... I remember the fear the look of panic in Imani's eyes when Isiah closed his hard fists around her fragile little neck.  
"To that home on God's Celestial shore...I'll fly away." I remember being so scared that urine trickled down my blue jeans creating a wet valley right between my thighs.

My breathe was gone with each second that Imani's tears cried and died under that short period of time where he squeezed his rough hands around her small neck. Her brown eyes popped out like they were asking me why.

Her confused face twisted into an angry statement that needed to be expelled on a page. My blank spirit died when the last gulf of air escaped her body.  
"I'll fly away oh..glory." Ain't no glory in losing a child so young. I don't understand why me.  
"I'll fly away (in the morning)." That's the way I wanted to feel when the police came and rescued me from Isiah's wicked embrace. He was rubbing on me like he was a mad man on a mission to kill and destroy. The bold murderous look in his blank eyes stripped me down to my naked soul.  
"When I die hallelujah by and by..I'll fly away." I wish I had some drugs that night. So I could run away and disappear. Go to heaven with my baby. She was so special. I mean, I knew it, but I didn't realize it....now I remember the sad way she was ripped from my life. And Isiah was so evil. So mean that day.  
After he squeezed her neck and realized that there was no energy left in her body. You see originally he was trying to get her to shut up but I told him she was missing her daddy and missing her home. I mean, he didn't catch on that her little legs stopped moving. That her high pitched voice was gone and the room had grown silent with my murmurs.

And he had missed the last catch of breathe he was in a drunk drug haze after consuming many red pills and slurping up the last of his Crown Royal with that stupid purple bag hanging from his fidgeting fingers.  
I was so quiet that maybe in my selfishness I too should be condemned for allowing him to tear down the spirit of my baby. My child. That is my child up there in the casket with her black and white dress with lace cuffing her puffed up face. And maybe it is my fault. Maybe I could have bargained my body to deal with him, to push him away from him. Maybe I should have offered him what I offered so freely in the past with Pharell. I can't believe I stood still and offered no vocal objections when he killed Imani right in front of me. I could have tried to save her life.  
Now as the cry of me sings a lonely song in my haunted soul. I am empty like a garbage can. I still hear the vibrations from the clapping and stomping around me. Momma's moaning like she is having a baby. Nandi's high pitched voice is scathing me as I spot the wet tears on Crystalle's face and she's huddled in Charles' arms.

Issac is trying to touch me but I inch away, place a hand on the hem of my black dress, pull down my black hat and lace towards my face, pushing my glasses down further. I do not want any one to see the hell in my eyes.  
I'm in the house of the lord and I want to scream murder. Me and Issac did this.  
As the choir sings the last stanza of the song, I feel the spirit move within me, I cannot stop it. I cannot escape it.  
When I hear the last line of the song, huge tears of sadness roll down my numb face bringing it alive and with it, a whole body that screams and moans and shakes a mother's greatest fear. My breath is gone and my mouth stretches heaviness as I yelp and my body moves from side to side and ushers come to my aid as I uncontrollably let go. The entire church pew I am sitting on clears suddenly and with that empty space my rage is freed and liberated. Then I feel comforting fingers and devoted whispers float over, on and under my body. Issac is wiping my face with his favorite white handkerchief he got when he first got saved. Like the devils' in my soul I yell fire in his face while spitting globs of hate on him and chanting my own lonely statement in a staccato accusation to Issac, "It's your FAULT!" over and over and over again.

My legs kick at him and the white globed ushers move him back, the choir stops their angelic offering, Momma rushes to my side offering words of encouragement in my deaf ear and my hateful stare to him says it all.

"I wish I could fly away." I shake my black wild hair that broke free after I had my hallelujah baptism of sorrow. Yes, I wish I could fly away. I let the ushers take me to the pastor's office while my song of melancholy chants in my ear and I feel Issac's spirit follow me as I let my spirit be replenished. The murmurs of them calm my soul for a moment but for now on there will be no peace.  
Time.  
That time was about ten a.m. this morning. Now it is much later and I'm not sure what time it is because since the funeral I have refused to look at the clock or ask for the time. I'm spinning in between shock and being empty while surrounded at our tiny two bedroom apartment with people flowing into the somber house. It is the repast. I hate these things.  
Just another excuse for folks to pig out.  
And at someone else's permission. My baby is gone and I feel nothing but hate for her father. I don't even look at him. My feet are tapping a slow beat kind of like a Billie Holiday tune preciously sung except my feet have no vocal chords. They have no musicality but the keep tap tap tapping. The sounds of giggles and sighs flow around me as I gaze directly in his face. His strained eyes and lonely eyelashes that look lost. The skin is stretched around his eyes and I see him. I see him. Yet I don't want to see him but I do.  
He's sitting directly across from me on the black leather couch we purchased when we first got marriage. My eyes glaze over his black suit and white shirt sticking out like a sore thumb as he rubs his thin fingers over his brown temples and grunts over whatever. I know he's feeling the fire from me and that's okay because he needs to feel this rage. I should have told him long ago that we needed counseling. We needed help. I wasn't strong then, but I am now.  
If I left him a few weeks or months ago, Imani would still be alive. My baby was going to turn three in January 31 but she is gone now.  
I will never see her graduate eighth grade. Or go on her first date. Or move into her first apartment. I will never ever be able to experience her highs or lows. Because I was too weak and he was also. And we exposed her to a family member who didn't deserve to step on the ground we were on.  
Biting my lip, I look away from him. I feel rage burning deep in my soul. I feel guilty for being so consumed, not letting anyone touch me. I lift my tired body from the chair I had been sitting on and let my feet guide me towards the door as I silently left the crowded room so I could go up to my secret place and write.  
All day I've been gripping on my red journal. I think some folks thought it was my bible and in some ways it is. It has the good, bad and ugly. My journal is my life script unfolded for someone who's trying to get a good clue on who I am. My angry nostrils are flared with fury of having to go through this and I'm dumb-founded on how I'm going to live without my baby. I must write a poem or something to calm my nerves. Slowly walking to the elevator I grip the inside of my purse with one lone hand and push the up button on the elevator with my red polished nail as air of relief flows out of me.  
I can still hear the chattering of everyone as I stand and wait for the elevator. A part of me hopes that someone will notice that I'm gone but I guess they didn't and my delicate ears hear the approach of it, I crane my soar neck to check and make sure no one is coming out of my apartment searching for me.

The sudden stop of the elevator startles me and I quietly slid on it and hurriedly push for the twelfth floor. Once I get there I smile weakly, touch my bare arms, noticing the air pushing itself on my naked skin. I totally forgot to grab my heavy jacket. I guess it escaped me that it's in the middle of winter and I'm probably going to get a cold. But you know what.  
If it don't kill me, it'll make me stronger.  
Finding my normal spot, I kneel and bend myself letting my knees touch the harsh ground. My eyes soak in the grey and black pebbles on the stony material and I rub one against my now freezing thumb and suck the warmness back. I can't believe it's just November 15 and almost time to pull out that turkey.  
It's not like I have much to be grateful for.  
Okay, I know I'm being selfish but I don't care. I just hope and pray that....  
I can get through tonight. I'm not sure. Shaking the thoughts from my head, I throw the little pebble over the side of the building into the wide open air. Then I slide and sit down and let my black gel pen slide over the white pages as I flip my 'private' journal open.  
With the wind at my back and my body begging me to hurry up this task I write. My thoughts flow to Imani.

Scattered thoughts  
You and I on a quest  
I guess God thought it best  
To end our relationship  
Take you through another blessed ship  
While my fingers rip pages  
Of sadness  
Of the badness inside me While I try to let my soul fly free  
Is it me  
That tries to be  
Too much  
Too much of a mother  
When back in the day I was another  
Silly little girl  
In another world  
I miss you  
I love you  
You were the true part of me not bruised  
You are apart of me and will forever be...  
My little girl  
Who's now in another world  
Happy with no tears flying  
Even though part of me is dying  
And my husband is sighing.  
I miss you Imani

Hiccupping and no longer able to let my fingers walk on the white page, I tears course my frozen face past lips that won't speak and past eyes that don't want to see. I open my mouth widely and yelp uncontrollably, "I want my baby!" so loud that I know someone probably heard me. And I don't even care because I'm missing her like she was my skin, my life, my everything. The air in my lungs are scattered and running away from me and I'm clinging on to my sanity, what is left of it.  
After my liberated moment I listen to the world around me. The buzzing of bells from the apartment buildings, wild cackles from the people walking below on Sheridan Road, the ticking of my heart beat, the zooming of buses speeding down the street and screeching of car tires as I return to myself. To the gripped pen in my hand.  
To the situation of my life.  
I know I must return to the house. People are waiting for me.
Eating doesn't mean anything to me. I am not hungry. I must lay my soul down and let it be regenerated.  
I pick myself up and slid the door open to the building feeling the warmth of new air bringing me back to myself. My tingly fingers are happy but my soul is not, I flip the switch to indicate I need the elevator on twelve and wait.  
The first thing I notice when I get back in the house is that it's quiet. I guess most of the people have left. A part of me is sorry I was so selfish and another part is not. I smell the aroma of barbecue chicken, smothered pork chops, and spaghetti coming to me in waves but I am not interested in letting that food enter my dome. I am still chilled from being outside and I clutch to my black purse and my pen/journal is till tightly wrapped in my trembling hands. I wonder where everyone is at.  
I set my purse down on the living room table that is filled with bereavement cards, assorted flowers, and a bunch of homemade cards from some of Imani's friends – Peter, Jonica, Tina and Boo. Apparently their parents had the kids write a note of empathy. That is nice. Very very nice of them.

I touch my heart which is filled to capacity with pain. I hope one day I can set it free.  
My gaze surveys the empty living room but I see one person looking right back at me and when I see him, I turn away but the startling tone of his voice stops me.  
"So you back to your selfish self, hun?"  
"Me, selfish?" I chime back at him. Half of my face is away from him as I ponder what I should do.  
"Yeah, you are the one who ran away, didn't you?"

He shifted his body from the chair he had been sitting in and stood up approaching me.

"This is not about me!" I stamp my feet and pout out my lips as rage takes hold of me.

"You are the one...with the crazy brother. With the one who killed your own child.

With his drugged ass!"

My hawk eyes challenge Issac as I wait for a response.  
"Don't put this all on him. I mean, you are the one who's acting like miss-super woman. You won't let your defenses down. You won't let anyone get close, not even your own mother."  
My lips were shut at the mention of mom who did try to comfort me, it's just that I couldn't let it go. I still won't let it go.  
I hizzed at him, "I hate you." as I ran into Imani's room to continue my alienation and locked the door. I will face him another day.  
Not this day.  
I must breathe alone in my own space.

*

Time.

In her room, which is filled with so many memories, memories that flood my mind and spirit as I sit on the edge of her plain bed with pink covers and a huge white comforter. Her nice bed which Momma helped to pick out in Sears on a hot Indian summer's day. I think that was before the actual birth but Momma and Nandi had bothered me so much about getting some things for the baby. And that was right after me and Issac first got married. After the drama with Isiah who snuck in the house and used our marriage bed to do his whoring. And because my timid husband chose not to tell me the truth about that I threw him out of the house pulling a gun on him; he's lucky I didn't pull the freaking trigger. What a waste of our time!

Time.

I see a clock on the pink colored wall and think about how long it took me to have her. As the hand goes slowly around and I hear the tick tick tick I think of the length of my labor with Imani. Twenty-nine long harsh hours in a crowded Hospital room with little or no air but plenty of water for me. Not just any hospital but that ghetto Advocate Hospital right on Lawrence and Clarendon. The only good thing about that place was having it so close to the house. Like a few minutes and we could zip over there. But having the family meet me there was hell. Mom was in Oak Park with Joe nearest to me in Lincoln Park and Nandi, Crystalle and Charles in Hyde Park. But all in all, everyone could get up to me. Why? Cause they all got cars and they all care about me.

You see it was my first baby. I mean, Imani was my first child. Everyone always thought I was too head strong to even go there. Or that I would be too selfish to sacrifice my life. I touch my belly where she stayed for nine long months and sigh pain heavily. Man, those months were pure hell for me and for Issac.

Poor man. He had no idea of what was going to happen to his single life. I mean his social life. No more of him being out all the time because you know when a woman is pregnant and her life is changing she's emotional, and needing a lot of attention. She's needing someone to lean to get support. She's hungry and needs this and that. I was the drama queen. Yes, I was. I was the diva and then some.

Rubbing the ruffles on the bottom of the white comforter, I lay down on it. I inhale the sweet smell of Imani's baby lotion and her fresh hair which I washed everyday. She had the curly hair just like my Grandmother. All I had to do was put some baby oil on her hair to moisturize it, and then use a few ponytails to push her fine hair back. She didn't like the ponytails though. She had a tender head and would be wailing for me to stop because she didn't like me using the combs and separating her hair to style it. But other than that she was a good kid with a lot of energy.

I take a huge down pillow and stuff it under my tired head as I listen to the chants to the heavy pounds from Issac's knocks on Imani's door. I can't stand this separation but I guess it is better this way. If I hate him, then I can't love him. My tender finger tips touch the Hello Kitty doll she entertained at our little tea parties every time I got a chance to take off from work. We would do the tea party around 3 pm and she'd have all her tea cups on the floor in the kitchen and we'd use real tea and little spoons that came with her tea set. Imani liked Orange Tea but with her being so young, I didn't let her use any sugar but we'd use real orange slices and she loved it. I would partake of my green tea and use lemon slices in mines. I would not let her use a knife or anything like that but I'd slice them myself. She would always sing "I'll Fly Away" at the tea party with Jonica and Tina but that's because Tina's mom Michelle would always sing the song in the car on the way to an event where she was spending time with the girls. That's one thing I will miss.

Being able to spend time with mothers.

That time is gone. Does it really even matter now? I have no child. She is gone away in the wind. All the hard work that I have done. Is this a punishment for over rearing her? Because I took full responsibility of Imani while Issac worked and probably played. Okay maybe he did not play but he wasn't home.

What was I supposed to have done? Not take care of my responsibility. I know Imani was his child too but he didn't complain until recently so how was I supposed to have known that he was missing her. That he needed her just as much as I did? He never talks to me or gets upset so how was I too recognize that he felt a void in his life.

I go back to my first question. Does it really matter? Where was he when I got my first momma scares and had to call Momma because he was in the middle of a presentation. He had to work later. He had an evening meeting. All this type of stuff pissed me off and made me want to pour all of my time and energy into Imani. She was there. She was the only one besides my family that was there to pick my pieced heart when my job was downsized. Coming home to her was a joy. Coming home to an empty home sucked and disappointed me. Especially when I had to here about Siah's lovely engagement party to Corey. I still haven't met that guy yet. I hope he's good for her. But I guess I'll see that sooner or later.

I wonder if Siah is hiding him from us. I think I should call her or force the situation. After I deal with this drama. I will. It's been too mich time wasted being mad at each other. Or whatever the situation is.

With Siah it has always been some kind of competition and I don't have that time to waste with her anymore. I don't know why with some sisters it is always a competition. I'm not trying to best her out. I try to do my thing. And I think part of her has always been jealous of me but she will never admit that.

I wonder why...why must she always be competitive?

Even Nandi noticed that. And she is one of those girls that once they get a man, they disappear. She doesn't even know how to handle the situation. What I mean is that she doesn't know how to balance her relationship with her family and work life. When she got with this Corey she just stop showing up for sister nights out with me, Nia and Nandi. She barely got her butt to my baby shower and then she was half there when she was there. It was very frustrating.

When I asked her about that, she flipped me some excuse and tried to make it seem like I was the one tripping but I wasn't. I mean, I wasn't acting shady when I got married or even when I was pregnant with Imani. I stayed in touch with all my friends and maintained relationships.

Siah is just different.

Oh well! As I position myself on the floor in Imani's room, I stare at the clock which states it is two a.m and I can't believe that I have allowed myself to muse all this time. But I guess I'm scrambling here. Trying to find something to occupy my mind. Anything is better to think about than Imani being gone.

*

I have a cramp in my neck and as I peer up at the clock on Imani's wall I hear the dawning of a new day. I can't believe I slept all night long for the clock shouts digitally that it is now nine a.m. Issac should be at work now and I hope he is, I don't want to seem like a coward but ain't nothing he can say to me. As I gently remove a piece of old chicken from between the left side of my mouth, my mouth forms a huge "o", and I stretch my body... Then I wiggle my tingling toes and force myself up on one elbow while grunting because I notice my favorite dress is a mess and I can't believe I allowed myself to fall asleep in it. I'm really losing it.

The dress is wrinkled and worn down from a whole day of wearing and my long hair looks like an animal ran through it and it is a hair jungle. My dress is not in good shape and just to restore it I will have to take it to the ghetto cleaner next to the apartment complex. I say ghetto because sometimes they don't do a good job. I might have to take it downtown with me and let the white folks work on it.

After surveying my dress, my fingers climb up to my head and I feel my half-hazard bun which has fallen apart. The nice neat French roll was undone and in it's place is a Don King style of hair style. My black bobby pins were all scattered on the carpet and my hair was all over my face, half crunched under on one side and flat on the other. Man, can you say, bad hair day?

The door was still locked and I knew that I had to go pee because there was a heaviness to my lower body and it was screaming. Probably all that water I drank yesterday. I was trying not to eat much and instead I drank over twelve glasses of water in between the morning service, the burial service and the repass. I pushed myself off of the plush carpet and pulled up my body, dusted off the dress, and with a blank stare on my face, opened the door with slick palms that were slipping around the knob. I hoped that Issac didn't notice the creak of the door because this apartment is very drafty.

In my bare feet, I tipped around the house until I got to the bathroom, which was right near our bedroom and slid into it hopefully not waking him up. I flipped the light switch, quietly closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief as the light came on and he didn't pound the door. As I watched my image in the mirror I saw a stark woman, not a confident one. But one who had been through hell. No twinkles in my eyes. No bounce to my hair. Just weak and sad and down.

My ears picked up a huge whoosh of air as Issac opens the door and interrupts my moment.

"Babe, you gonna talk to me?"

I hear the frustration seep from his mouth. With hard lips that didn't greet me with a smile, he acted like I owed him something. Shoot, he better recognize. I am not even going to feel him. He should know that.

"Leave me alone. You should go somewhere, chill, you know."

My neck moved from side to side as I eyeballed him and placed a hot hand on my hip. Leaning away from him, "You think I want to talk to you."

My voice raised one octave as I pushed on his stony chest ready to pounce on him.

"I love you." Those words used to appeal to me. How can I love him when a person who directly favors him committed murder against our family?

How can I get the bitter pill from under my tongue and destroy this feeling?

"That might be true, but I am not moved by your little soliloquy. You know what, I'm outta here." I ripped my arms from under his strong ones yelling and spitting, "Please get off of me and leave me alone!" Stamping my foot on his bare ones, I ran right back to Imani's

room and screamed through the shut door, "Leave me alone, Issac. I don't want to see you or talk with you."

With hollow eyes I closed my brown eyes and shut out the sound of his pounding and curled up on the floor in the corner of Imani's room, hugging a big white teddy bear, and let tears flow down my smooth-as-butter cheeks. I don't have the energy for this. Not any more.

*

Why?

I uncurled myself off the floor again, hoping that when I came back into the room he would be gone. I mean, I am so fatigued that my chest burns and my back aches because of the pain in my soul. My lips are frozen into a permanent frown and as I open the door and walk down the long swooping hallway to the medium sized living room. Noticing the silence in the house I assume he was gone. After all, he did work weekends and I was glad to be rid of him.

A nervous twitch of my hands catches me off guard as I gently touch the bereavement cards and I glare in the window as I watch a lone black bird on the edge of my window. I wish I could be that bird. I wish I could be gone into the wind with my back and liberated from these chains around my heart.

I press my smooth-as-butter oval face against the windowpane startling the bird and it suddenly flaps its wings and flys away. I love the cool breeze of wind from Chicago's Lake Michigan as I lift the window up with my chipped red nails. Even though it is winter I love to feel a cool breeze from time to time. Especially since Realty and Mortgage keeps this building quite warm. Believe me, I am not complaining.

When chills cover my smooth and silky skin, I push down the window and put a hand over the steamy radiator and then drag my tired body over to the answer machine where I know I probably have a lot of messages.

With a sigh and noticing the number ten flashing on the black A T & T answering

machine, I push play to review the messages.

Beep. I hear the first message from Siah.

"Girl, you okay over there? We should talk maybe go out for movies. I will call Nandi and get back with you. Miss and love you. Hang in there."

A chirpy voice fades away while another heavier one commands her attention immediately.

"This is Issac. Pick up, Joie. Joie – look, don't punish me forever. I love you." At the sound of his LLCool J sounding voice, I force my fingers to press delete. I move on to message number three.

"Chile, this is your momma, could you call me when you get this message? I know thangs are hard right now. I sho' don't know how you feeling you hiding like you normally do when you get hurt."

She pauses then continues, "Come in Joe...I'm on the phone leaving Joie a message." She stops again and I hear a motherly peck on his check. Clearing her throat she continues the message.

"Look Joe is here and I need to go, but we are worried about you. Call us, you hear?" I save her message. I love my momma. NO matter what. I will call her back.

Before I could go through the remaining four messages, the phone rings.

And since we don't have caller id I didn't know what to do so I softly lifted the phone with a heavy and fatigued voice, "Yes."

"It's Siah, girl. Dang you hard to catch up with." Her overly excited voices rings in your ear like a high bird's voice.

"You know I just want to spend time with my-" I couldn't finish before tears started rolling down my cheeks and my voice cracks, "myself."

"I love you sis. I know you going through a hard time. I just wanted to make sure I called you back." A silence interrupted the conversation but then she continued, "Sorry about that – hold on. I think that's Corey. You know what that man can wait." She laughed nervously then chimed, "Me and Nandi are coming to get you today. Okay?"

"Okay." I stated.

"Is two o'clock a good time for you?"

She sounded like her breath was struggling through her vocal chords.

"It's fine. See you later."

I hung the phone up, touched the hem, of my funky black dress and sighed. Lifting my hands up to the one above. I simply said, "please help me get through this day."

Chapter 7

Momma says I can't be mad forever and that my marriage won't last if we don't communicate. I just am frustrated is all. I was a mother and now I'm lost and I do need some help. We still haven't packed up her bedroom, given her clothes and toys away, because I guess we just can't face the facts. The good thing that came of this is that Isiah is in jail for a very very long time. I think he's gotten ten years with parole in about half the time and I don't know if I am satisfied with that. There's so much going on with me and Issac that it's not even funny. I guess that's why were are where we are...in a quiet office that plays WNUA jazz music while we wait on pins and needles. The eeriness of this place scares me and it's like we are instruments in a unsung song about pain and strife. With each note, I am ready to yawn my mouth and go to sleep. Personally, I am not feeling this visit and it better be worth my time.

Today's November 18, 2005 a few days before the turkey day and Issac decides we need to do something real quick about our communication issues. I don't have issues. He is the one with the issues. He is the one who's trying to sweep under the rug, this situation. He don't want to talk about his brother. He wants to act like it didn't happen. That our child didn't die under my eyes while I could do nothing about it.

And now as I sit near my husband in a cold clinical office, I dust my blue jeans off and smooth down my red thick sweater angrily. I suck my teeth as I think of Issac's messed up brother, Isiah who's gotten off scott free by living in a jail cell while my daughter is six feet under. I shake my head and soak in my husbands image as he lets his dipped-in chocolate fingers view the Maxim magazine he's checking out. Since this lovely trip was his idea, I know he shouldn't be acting like this is for me. Anyway, if you haven't already guessed, we are in the therapist's office. She is a marriage counselor and her name is Africa Jones.

According to him she comes highly recommended. I wasn't too hot on seeing a counselor but I guess it's over due for us. The office we are sitting in has plush brown couches and a simple décor of green plastic plants placed in the corner of the small but modern office. There's a very nice secretary, whose name is Maria. I see a nice name tag on her navy blue skirt suit. She had a huge smile that stretched her thick cheeks when we greeted her.

I wish I had her same energy. I look around the table before me at the various boring magazines; the bland Time Magazine, the hilarious The Star, and the too hard cored The New York Times. Yawning my small mouth open, I tisk and Issac responds by trying to make me feel better but he doesn't.

"Look, babe. It'll be over before you say boo!"

He looked at me with those hazel eyes I fell in love with when we met a few years ago at that poetry set at Jazz and Java, but now as he gazes with intent at me, I just want to spit on him.

I suck down my pride and blankly smile at him, "Yeah, whatever." I rolled my eyes and totally ignored him and while my fingers played with the magazines on the table, I finally something that peeked my interest. The December Issue of Ebony with Star Jones and her fine yellah man. I mean, he's a nice light dip with dark eyes and curly hair, looks intelligent and prominent. I used to love looking at the View when she first got on.

I thought she was gonna keep it real and stay thicky thick but it ain't happening yet. Yes, she lost weight, she got a man, but at what cost? Frowning, I thumb through the magazine to page 172 so I could get the real deal, why she got this fine man and did she sell out? I am on a few online black relationship groups and the women and men are arguing about Star. Some thing she is blinded by this man's fine attributes. Some think her man is gay or bisexual. I don't care. Hell, whatever makes her happy, will make her happy.

You know.

I shake my head and laugh out loud, "Star and her man."

"Why you say it like that?" For the first time in a long time I noticed the brown khaki pants he was wearing the way they hugged his thighs and his tan cotton teeshirt hugging his fine upper body. I had to shake my head. I mumbled something under my breathe, punched myself back to reality as I grunted at his response in after thought as I continued to browse the magazine.

"Joie."

"Yeah." I kept looking at the magazine without meeting his eyes.

"Ms. Jones is ready for us."

I looked up and my eyes soaked in the image of a very earthy woman with medium length twists that framed her face gently. Wearing a very casual blue jean denim suit at her five foot five inch frame, she ushered us into her offices which were to the left of us. My eyes meet Maria's and she gave me the upward sign of "good luck" and we were in the office.

My stomach was bubbling when I sat down. Shoot, I didn't even want to be here. No matter how relaxed Ms. Africa Jones appeared to be. To calm myself down, my eyes caught the sight of several awards and degrees in her office, including a Masters Degree from the University of Illinois in Psychology as well as a Ph.D from Northwestern University in the same field. Ok. Seems like she's got herself together, but can she help glue us back after a tumultous event. Losing our child, him losing his brother, and both of us apparently holding secrets.

I busied my mind with many things during the time I sat down in the plush brown chair which was facing Issac and Ms. Jones was in the corner observing us while writing on her white note pad and with a very nice silver pen in her hand. Over the rim of her black glasses her innocent coffee eyes were warm and friendly.

"So, how are you guys doing today?" She sat back in her black leather chair as she leaned forward.

My lips stay shut like I'm a zombie but Issac stretches his long legs and weakly smiles at her.

"I'm doing okay. I just thought maybe if Joie and I had some counseling. We recently lost our daughter." His thick eye brows drew together in an agonized expression.

"Actually, my twin brother Isiah, kidnapped her and strangled her in a fit of rage."

The last words were hissed like it pained him to say it.

I did nothing. My eyes were downcast and I felt like I was gonna burst apart. But I found a light voice that spoke with monotone, "I was kidnapped with my daughter when this occurred and actually saw this happen." At this point I shifted back in the seat and my jaw gets clenched like I'm ready to fight. My teeth chatter. "It's been a rough couple of months."

"I'm sorry." She reached forth on her desk to pull out tissues and handed the box to Issac as she noticed my eyes tearing up.

"Thanks." I sniffled a little bit but held the rest back.

"I was the most horrific thing I have ever experienced."

Even though I mentioned it, I sat there with no feeling. NO emotion escaping me except I let one tear fall down my face.

Quickly wiping it, I was afraid to speak any more so I let Issac speak.

His hands gestured to me, "She doesn't want me anymore. She doesn't sleep in our bed. She won't talk about Imani. All she does is stay in Imani's room and write in her journal."

His frustration showed as his lips were tight and a frown appeared on his face.

"Who is Imani?"

"Our daughter" we both announced at the same time. I guess old reflexes die hard.

"Well, sorry about that, didn't know who that was." As she scribbled on her pad, she started to speak and use a professional tone with us. "The way we are going to do the sessions are very relaxing but let's keep it real, this is going to be hard. Good hard work to help you keep your family together. That is, if you want to keep it going."

She paused as she took in my thin lips in a bland half smile that would not even fool the blind.

"I'm here for the course, Joie" was the idol response of Issac as he leaned back in his chair and watched me like a hawk.

I don't care what he says, I'm not "down" for this bull. It's like he wants me to apologize for being mad at him and his crazy brother. I will not allow myself to be sucked in.

"I will just have to see what happens here. I wasn't down for coming all the way down here anyway."

My snarled lips were not in compliance with the smile that was on Issac's face.

I wanted to slap that silly smile off his face, spit on his bald head, and do a pity dance. But I realized with a wry smile that it wasn't going to happen.

If I wanted to stay his wife and have him take good care of me, that I must do something. Give the dog a bone. My mind was racing a mile a minute as I surveyed the room and felt the heat from Ms. Jones stare. Her oval shaped eyes reminded me of a hawk on duty.

She had no real look on her face and that to me was unnerving.

"Joie, let me ask you a question." She leaned forward and placed her pen on her lip absently.

"Do you still love your husband?"

"Yes." I said it but my lips were snarled into a cryptic smile.

" I do." I shook my head in agreement.

"So, why are you so angry at him?" She asked with a curious glint in her eyes.

"Because it's his fault our baby died. It's his brother who did it." I simply said. I mean I hate to put it on him but why the hell not? I nibbled on my lower lip and pondered. "It might be kind of harsh but it's the truth. That's the way I feel." My arms gestured outwards like I was a hip hop star but I wasn't celebrating a thing. I was upset. Too much pain built upside need to be liberated and freed.

"But don't you think he's upset too? How does that make you feel Issac?"

"Real messed up inside. I didn't know he was going to do that. I mean – uh!" He fumbled with the words as if it was hard to use his vocals. He rolled his eyes upward like he was embarrassed and then continued, "Isiah was always a mess anyway. I should have known that night when he showed up out of the blue that he was on something. But I didn't protect my family. So yes, maybe some of it is my fault."

When I looked at him, really looked at him. I felt like a fool. His dark snappy eyes were shadowed by pain and in an empty way where he looked like an invisible man. The breathe was gone from him and I noticed his happy eyebrows downward in a melancholy state. The blank stare he gave me chilled me but maybe this is all my fault and I'm being controlling. Maybe I like him being just as sad and guilty as I do.

I stated, "I'm not feeling this. Can we go?"

"Why?" She quietly asked me. "Why do you want to go?"

"Because this ain't gonna bring back my baby." The energy behind my angry voice said it all.

"She is gone."

No tears. Just the hard cold truth.

"Umm. Let me interject something here for you guys." She stopped briefly as the pleasant voice of Maria filled the room as her speaker beeped.

"Ms. Jones, Kent Browne is on the line for you and says it is an urgent matter."

"Excuse me, Mr and Mrs. Thomas, I will be right back."

While she went out of the room I focused on the tapping of my foot and the sound of my breathe as I tried to calm my nerves. I don't know why I am so nervous.

But it will go away. Won't it?

I heard the gentle whoosh of the door open and close as she re-entered the office and softly sat down in her original position. Here brown eagle eyes looking at us like we were specimens.

"Sorry about that. Now where were we. Ok." She swivles her chair around as she positions her self and then makes some observations.

"Let me get this right so we are all on the same page. Issac you feel like Joie is blaming you entirely for the death of your child because your twin brother killed her, right?"

A somber " yes" escaped from his stony lips.

She quickly scribbles on her paper and then nods her head, "And Joie you believe it's your husband fault too, but are you sure that it's entirely his fault?"

"It's not entirely his fault." I reluctantly agree.

"And you feel the pain of a mother's loss. Did you spend more time with your child than Issac did?"

"Yes, he was more busy and I had a job reduction, so I went part time as a secretary and did some telecommuting." My eyes glazed over him as if he were a model, soaking in all those muscles, and realizing in some way, I must get over the physical part of him.

Really where is all the love if I am lusted by Issac. "I had more time to devote to being a mother."

"And you miss being with your daughter."

"Yes, I do." It was hard to say those words. Bittersweet. "But maybe she's in a better place. I really don't try to think about it."

"Ok."

After jotting down more information on her pages, she flipped the page, stopped writing and spoke aloud, " I have a few suggestions and please listen and try to remember, I am on your side. Just think about the suggestions and let me know if they sound plausible."

She searched our faces - mine's scared and Issac's seriously intent. "I think Joie you must realize the extra burden you are putting on yourself by not accepting that your child is gone."

She held up a mahogany colored finger as she saw my stony lips move, "Let me finish. I think you must go through the entire grief process before you can let go and reestablish the strong bond you and your husband shared. One, you must accept that she's no longer here. Imani is not coming down the hallway, she is gone. She is never to return. Two, you need to acknowledge that you as a mother lost a child. It's okay to cry. It's okay to vent. It's not okay to avoid or keep it in. It's not fair to you and it's not fair to Issac. It's not fair to the people in your life that want you to be okay and in a healthy frame of mind. Do you understand what I'm saying."

I nodded, leaned forward, so she could think I was really listening. But I wasn't. I didn't care what she said, I do blame him.

"Next you must acknowledge the emotional pain you hold. Your heart is heavy. You have to share that burden. Talk with Issac and find out how he's doing. You have to share that pain together not freeze each other out. Three, you must return to land of the living. I remember Issac mentioning that you are sleeping in Imani's bed. You must know the pain that Issac is going through not having his very own wife excluding him from the bedroom. He must be missing your touch and gentle love. Also, are you working now."

"I'm still on family leave."

"Well, you need to reconsider and return back to work. Staying at home and feeling sorry for yourself ain't gonna cut it." She twisted a curly hair strand as she continued, "You have to return to whatever you were doing before this event occurred."

'But–"

"Joie, you are harming yourself and your family by being in self-denial mode" She put the final touches on her recommendation as she spoke aloud, "Joie you are stuck. I know it's hard, but you have to let go. You have to say goodbye."

"I don't want to." A blank stare on my face said it all too well. I was hurt beyond repair.

"If you don't you will keep punishing those who really care about you." She gently voice her opinion as she placed her pen down and said, "I'm assigning you a few things Joie. First, you need to move back into your marriage bedroom. Second, you need to go to the grave site and say goodbye to your daughter. No matter how hard. You have to let her know you are okay with her passing. Thank God for her coming into your life. Third, you need to stop blaming Issac for what his brother did. He had no idea his brother would commit this horrible crime."

Not really wanting to push the issues ahead, I agreed. "Ok. I will try to do a few of those, but before we go further, how long are these sessions going to be?"

"Well, that's up to you and Issac. I would like to see you every week until we do your treatment plan and then we can set up bi-weekly meetings. When did you want to come next?"

She asked both of us but Issac answered for us.

"Could we come again on Thursday but after Thanksgiving, like the first Tuesday in December?"

He asked her quietly and searched my eyes for an answer. "Is that okay, Joie?"

Oh, how sweet. "Sure, it's fine"

"Well, it's set, let me inform Maria." Pushing the intercom she gives Maria instructions,

"Maria."

"Yes."

"Can you place the Thomas's on my calendar for Thursday, December 2nd at 4:00 pm"

"I have them on your cal for that day. It's all set."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

I jotted down the date and swallowed my pride as I yawned out loud. "I am soo sorry."

"That's okay."

"Well, that's all for today. I hope you find these sessions helpful." With a wave she opened the door and bid us adieu.

"See you guys in a few weeks."

With relief in my heart, I pulled my black Baby Phat purse closer to me and shrugged on my black leather coat on with some assistance from Issac and we were on our way out of her office and zooming down the highway in Issac's 2003 silver and black Land Rover to Foster and Sheridan while he bumped the sounds of Al Greens "Love and Happiness".

For now, my emotional flag was down.

*

At the exact moment of my release, I almost forgot I could not let all of my guard down. I slid my aching body into the steaming tub which I placed orange chamomile in the bath. My legs were slippery but I managed to keep myself on even ground as I leaned back and enjoyed the atmosphere. Issac was in the kitchen cooking some vegetable stir fry and I chose to come here and just enjoy myself. It's been far too long that I have actually pampered myself. I was glad too. As I feel the water move around my body, I feel like I'm floating in Lake Michigan and some kind of sea mermaid flapping my tails around.

Part of my mind floats to someone who I haven't heard from in a while. Someone who well, was important to me, and then we had to walk away from each other.

Oh, God. Forget him. It doesn't matter.

I shake my head and block his taste, his love, his everything from this moment. I can't be musing on him. He's the past. Issac is my future. Issac is my husband no matter what I have to go by this union I made before God and my family.

I block out his name, his essence. I can't go back there. Can't let him creep into my mind.

I listen to my favorite song floating from the living room "share my world" by Mary J. Blige. What a nice tune. I love that Album, "My Life."

I think I connect with so many songs that I'm going through right now. I am glad though that I stopped punishing him.

Plus I do miss him.

Miss being in his bed and us making love.

Maybe we could have another child. Umm, sounds like a plan.

Grinning from ear to ear, I hear the songs change and the opening of the door. I smell the vanilla candle burning in the dimmed bathroom and hear his voice asking me.

"You want me to dry you off."

"Sure."

He grabs a fushia towel and I stand up in the bath letting the water drip off my body as I place each leg out of the tube and each one is dried off by him.

He's standing there with a simple look on his face. Like he's trying so hard not to want me. I gingerly touch the black goutee surrounding his face and kiss him squarely on the lips.

He took my wet hand and we strolled from the bathroom to the bedroom in three seconds flat and when I laid in the bed for the first time in a very long time, I sighed a relief. I was home.

In the morning, I woke to the sounds of Issac's scraping boots as he prepared for work. Outside the world was quiet. The chirping of the birds were in the air. A lone zooming bus floated down our street. It was a lonely feeling though. Knowing I was going to have to go through the day without my little Mani. She was the best part of me. I know Ms. Jones was right on target with her suggestions I just don't know how I'm going to say goodbye.

My heart feels empty when I think about it. I guess that's because I have not allowed myself to really cry about her. That would make it too real.

I shifted up in the bed cast those thoughts out of my pulsating head and pulled a warm cover over my body as I spoke to my husband. He was over in the corner of our bedroom grabbing his work bag and dusting off his shoes.

"Issac, are you working late today?"

"I might have to. I haven't done any overtime in a while and with me getting this Land Rover, I have to do something. What are you going to do today?" With a slight hesitation in his hawk eyes, he swept his head around from what he was doing and faced me completely.

"Might just chill out, check a few emails, and let my boss know when I'm returning to work. I heard through the grapevine, if I don't my little job will be gone. Plus, I need to do something besides feel sorry for myself and cry."

I hid my eyes as I fidgeted with the green comforter surrounding my naked body. "I need to call Siah and have a talk with her too."

"What's wrong? You sound like it's serious - I mean, with you and Siah. I did notice you guys not vibing like you used to."

He stuffed his white shirt into his black slacks and straightened out his pants legs then looked up.

"Nothing. It's that she been kind of flighty since she's gotten with this secretive Corey Johnson. You notice we haven't seen him."

"Maybe she's worried it won't work out." He walks over to me and places a kind hand on the back of my neck caressing it.

"Look, whatever is happening, I'm sure you will find a way to deal with it. Give me a call later on the cell phone and let me know what's happening. I mean, if you want to do a special dinner on Tommorrow night and where so I can make reservations today. Ok?"

He kissed my lips and walked towards the bedroom door, opened it, and walked out of the house .

Having a little fun with him, I reached over to my purse, grabbed my black cell phone and quickly typed a short text message saying, "Hey sexy, man. How does Moody's sound tomorrow? Something fun and funky and we don't have to make reservations?"

I hit the options key and hit send and used the phonebook icon to find his number and pressed the send key. I put the small phone on my dresser next to the bed and laid down.

A few minutes later the vibration of the phone tickled me and then when a wild lion roaring from my phone opened my ears.... I laughed for I knew it was him. He was a responding really quick. Knowing him he probably is on the 147 bus on the way to the loop.

Grabbing the phone, I opened the message and grinned when I read his response. "Anything for my joie. See you later. I don't get home until 10 p.m. Love you."

I put down the phone on the dresser which is right beside our bed and it's filled with tons of different writing books. One day I'm gonna really be one. But for now, it's okay to suck up the Spanish and English dictionary, thumb through my two thesaurus and read up on how to write a novel. One day I will do it. But for now, I love poetry. Which reminds me, I need to check my emails to see if any of my online buddies.

Swinging my lazy legs over the side of the bed, I bend my body to grab my black sports bra and slid it on my body stuffing my too big breasts into it. And right by my HP computer's desk, I saw a pair of my denim shorts hiding, so I slid those on my thickening buttocks and pulled my blue computer chair out and pushed the on silver buttons for my monitor and computer to bring it alive.

It's so funny. Before Imani was born, I was always on the computer.

Chatting.

Emailing.

Researching.

Having fun.

But that changed when she came along because during my third and fourth months I didn't want to sit at the desk. So I began using my cellphone to surf the web. Then I went from doing that to doing nothing.

Siah and Nandi were mad at me. They always were sending me baby email cards and I would never get them because I wasn't logging onto my AOL account.

My user name is so funny too and I shake my head at the name - flyyassgurl4you. When Issac saw my name he wasn't laughing. He said I needed to change the name. He didn't want no men emailing me at all. I told him it didn't matter who those men were.

I shove those thoughts out of my head as I click into the "Joie's House" link and then the Joie icon on my Windows XP. I like the way Issac set this up. It's easy for me to go directly into my customized workspace.

My fingers slid over the black mouse and place it over the AOL Icon so I could quickly enter my account and check for emails. I chose the flyyassgurl4you account first since that is my primary account. I am glad I chose to keep it although it caused some friction between Issac and I. Like I told him, it's just an email. I'm not trying to have a relationship with everybody.

What I neglected to tell him is that my secret friend and I well, it's a different situation. Or it used to be.

Anyway, as soon as I open my account opens I hear the sing-song of "You got Mail!" He he he he. I can't wait to see what I have there.

My eyes are glued to the screen and I squint knowing, I need to grab my glasses and put them on. I search the desk and see them on the side and place the black frames on my face. Instantly my eyes feel much better.

Now that I'm up I will be doing much better than me suffering in silence. My regular doctor said she was going to get me if I didn't get my eyes checked. So I finally got them checked. Well, rather after Imani passed away I had to begin focusing on me again. At the thought of her, I numb out. I push her out of my mind as I minimize my internet connection to click on my Music Now and listen to some jams as I cruise the information highway.

My eyes scan for my music library and before I could go any further, I heard the ping of my instant message and saw it was from the one who's been creeping in my thoughts lately. I know I shouldn't answer this at all but the pull of him inside me right now, is so strong. Maybe if we chat I will feel better and not feel the sadness of Imani.

Every time I think of him, I know it was only a lusty intimate relationship that should have been ignored. We should have never taken it from being online to a physical relationship.

But he was soo good. Ladies if you saw this fine tall chocolate man, you would know what I'm talking about. I"m talking about that sexy thug man that makes you wet and want to die for. Yeah, that chocolate drop that makes you weak at the knees that you want to cook anything to please him. HEEEEYYY don't get mad at me. Haters got to hate on. I just got what he likes and I haven't heard from him since our last encounter but that was before I was married and I was feeling myself.

The ding of the IM gets me again. I hold my breath like I'm going to die. My lips are closed and I'm tingling all over my legs and in my lower region. Shoot, I remember how good he can make me feel. Man is on point as we young folks say. I really really don't know if I should go there with him again.

He's one of those possessed men because once he gets a taste of a woman he doesn't want to let it go. He doesn't like to share. I call him a pretty-eyed devil man.

My energetic fingers betray me as I try a quick response.

"What's up?"

My heart is getting full and my middle core is buzzing. I'm hoping he ain't in that, "lets meet" mood cause I am married and I can't just do Issac like that. Not after us losing Imani. That would be wrong, right?

I don't get a chance to change my mind because the ding of the IM he emailed back to me answered, "you, baby. I missed you, what you on?"

Umm. Umm. Umm. I don't know. Should I tell him the truth. Yeah, well, I will and see what he's gonna say.

"Just being a married woman. And you?" My eyes brighten up at the response I viewed on the screen.

"You married. Girl why you trying to break my heart? :)"

I minimize his message online as I hear my regular phone jingling, I turn to the side of the desk and grab our cheap white telephone as I scan the caller ID for the number.

Oh boy. I got to take this call.

I grab it really quick and say, "Hold on Siah, I have to email my friend right now, hold on." I put the cradle of the phone down and position myself as I email a response to him.

"I ain't never said I wouldn't marry and he's a good guy. But let's not talk about him, let's catch up on old times. Hey, how about we chat later b/c I have a friend on the phone that I really need to speak with. How does 7 pm sound?" My throat got tight as memories of our past chatting burned a hole in the middle of me. I knew he would want to cyber. But seeing as though it's a virtual cyber situation I think it's fine. "I got to go."

I bold my last response in red Times Roman font and click off my email and disconnect my DSL.

"Sorry girl." I was out of breathe and took the phone and laid in my bed with the aroma of Issac's deep african musk lilting in the air. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay. I wanted to say hi and see if the two of us could just hang."

I stopped for a brief moment and wanted to just put in out there and be bold knowing she migbt be mad. But I didn't care. I wanted to know. I was curious as hell as her mystery man and I wanted to ask her. For once in my life say what's in my heart and soul. "Siah, why you ain't bring your man to the funeral. It would have been nice for me and the family to meet him."

"Girl, he's busy."

"Please, you been with him for as long as I was a mother with Imani." Now I can't believe this girl going to sit up here and say he's that busy. PLEASE. I wish I could believe that. She needs to keep it real. I pressed real hard as I sat up in my bed with my fingers tightly holding the phone. "SIAH, be freaking real. Please, even Nandi said she hasn't even seen him. I know you guys hang out more that I do with you. So, what's the deal."

A hard edged soft voice chimed, "Nothing. I didn't call here to argue with you. I wanted to come by and hang. Can I do that today?"

"Sure. Anytime I am not doing much." Then on second thought I remember, I had an email date, so I said, "Long as it's before six thirty p.m." I couldn't wait to hear from my boy. It's been way too long. I mean, this is the selfish part of me and I'm not sorry about it. I need to speak with him and feel his vibes cause right now I need a little mental massaging and he is a great verbal doctor. I am so —

My thoughts were interrupted by Siah's irritationg voice that seemed to get a little bit louder by each syllable that escaped her mouth. "Girl are you still there. What you doing?"

"Sorry, just trying to do two things at once." I laugh at myself and push my glasses over my nose and continued, "I told you I was on the internet when you called me."

"Oh."

"It's done now."

"Okay. Well, I will see you later then. Like around 3 pm?"

"That's fine with me. I will talk with you later."

I clicked off the phone and pressed the "off ringer" selection before taking off my glasses and putting them on the dresser. Then I buried the covers over my head and sank back into my bed for relief, for an escape.

I'll call Ms. Powers later to tell her I am coming back to work in one week. Just one more week so I can gather my thoughts and my emotions. Then I can ask if I can get my full time position back or figure out if I can start looking for a new job. Something new would be good actually. But for right now, the beck of sleepdome is calling me and I submit as I close my brown eyes and relax by grabbing on my down pillows and let my crave for dreaming consume me.

*

Jeez, I am so happy. I finally got Siah out of here. I mean, the girl tried to stay long in this house even though I was grimy and smelled like shit. I did that on purpose though. I didn't comb my hair and let it stay all over my head like I was homeless. I didn't change into a cute outfit. I just was me. Shaking my head, I laugh to myself. I mean, it was an okay visit. Siah ain't changed. Still sneaky little girl.

She had an excuse about Corey Johnson. I wonder who this dude is?

Well, at least we had an okay visit although I still think she is very jealous of me. Rubbing my temples as I lay in the bed (my favorite place if you didn't already know) I stare at the digital clock on the dresser that shouts it is 7:30 pm. Gritting my teeth together I am pissed. I know he ain't online right now so I just forget it. It's late anyway. I'll lay here until my eyes close and feign tiredness and then well Issac will come home and creep his cold body in the bed and we'll play that game. You know the one where I act like I'm asleep and he acts like he thinks I am not.

We'll taste each other and do a quickie and then be asleep in ten minutes flat. Oh well, that is the way it goes when you get married I guess.

The thrill is gone.

Chapter 8

I guess they say time heals all wounds and mines are very minimal as I think about things. I mean, Imani was my daughter and she kept me real. She kept me out of trouble. She mad me who I am today but now I feel like I'm sliding. I feel like I am regressing back to the Joie of old. Even now on lunchbreak and walking downtown even though it's cold; I check out those fine men. Whether they are Black, White, Chinese, Puerto Rican, or Asian. A fine man is a fine man. And I'm weak like the fragile women I work with at SBC.

Today was my first day back and everyone has been so nice to me. I shrug my shoulders as the cold wind kisses my face while I cruise down Madison and State Street because you know a sister had to go dip into Marshall Field's. Anyway, Ms. Powers, was really nice and it was great to see the old crew even though half of the people are doing different things. I am on the 10th floor in Accounting, which I hate but at least I'll get a check and I can hold my own. It's better than staying home and being bored with my dull husband.

Issac.

I guess I have been riding him hard about the death of our child and I know that our therapist thinks I can be a little more easier, but I felt so mad. As my fingers touch the plush winter hat my fingers are caressing, I muse on the possibility that we may not be able to work through our issues. I am not too sad though. It's like I wanted to leave him so long ago.

As I made my purchase and I walked outside feeling the harsh Chicago weather I heard a whistle near me and then a push on my rear end. When I turned about though, I didn't see anybody so I kept on going walking towards the Walgreens right off on State Street. Then I heard someone speak.

"Hey Joie." A timid voice remarked as I stood by the store holding my little green Marshall Field's bag.

I whipped myself around ready to act and verbally abuse whoever put their hands on my butt. My neck hurt as the result of the pressure I put on it. I winced.

Shaking the feeling. I continued with my stroll. Then as I turned to where the voice was coming from I saw him. The shape and his walk was unmistakable. I whispered t myself as if I saw a ghost..."Pharell."

He was different. Standing up with a black suit on and some sharp Stacy Adams. His hair was no longer bald but he had a short crop of dreadlocks that framed his handsome face. He flipped out a card that read, "Corey Johnson, Detective, Twenty-Fifth District."

Confusion marked my face. I couldn't believe it. What the fuck? I'm thinking he was joking with me. "Corey Johnson..."

"Let me explain." When you saw me a few years ago I was undercover and then I fell in love with you. You had fire girl. That was then though. You got married to Issac and then went away. Remember when we used to hang out back in the day. It was fun."

Whoa! Hold up. Corey Johnson is the elusive fiancee of Siah. Oh my god. We both have slept with him. Hell, I have a secret to tell Siah. Shoot, I need to talk with Nandi before I do anything.

"You are engaged to my girlfriend, Siah."

"Really."

"Yeah, really." I stopped as my cell phone rang, I pushed vibrate, and then continued, " Corey. Dang, life is a trip."

I placed my bag on my shoulder and offered a hand to him while pulling my brown leather closer to my body. It was so cold and here we are talking -outside like it's nothing. Like it's summer.

"So, how are you doing?"

"I'm good. Sorry to hear about your child's passing."

Tears burned in my eyes, but I didn't say nothing and sucked the air for a response. I was stumped and really didn't know if I could really tell him the truth about Imani. He's about to get married to Siah and she is probably the happiest than she's ever been. I'll just have to hold on a bit longer.

"It was...has been really hard for us." My throat got clogged with the memory and then I blurted out as I soaked in him again.

"Well, I see you looking different."

"Yeah, I am no longer on that specific beat. I was undercover at the time and had to bust some folks on the West side, but anyway, let's not talk about that." He rubbed his hands together and tried to get warm. "Hey, you want to go catch lunch or something."

Feeling totally out of pocket, I yawned and feigned tiredness. "No. I think. I think I should go. You know Siah has been hiding you like she's hiding something. Did she know about us?"

"No, and I'd like to keep it that way."

Totally perplexed I softly reminded him, "you know Issac hated your gut and he remembers how you look. How you gonna do that if we have both of you over for dinner one night?" I was getting pissed already. It's like he never was my man. We were down for each other when we were together and I cannot believe he's acting like it never happened.

"I don't know.." I took a quick look at the silver and grey Timex watch Momma gave me at my high school graduation. "Look, I have to go. We'll have to talk about this some other time."

His beautiful inquisitive eyes poured into mines as I walked away from him towards the West side of Madison. If I didn't hurry up and get back to work, I was gonna be in trouble on the first day. I didn't have time for a old flame bringing up old feelings.

I can think about Corey later. Life's a trip ain't it. That's what I'm thinking. I hate to put this on Nandi but she's the only person I can chat about this with. I mean, I really need to talk with her. Maybe I can go by her house before I go home.

*

Ever since we came from the therapists' office Joie has been much better. She's happier. She's returning to her old self spending more time with her girlfriends. Most importantly she is not sleeping in Imani's room. That is the best thing I can thank Africa Jones for. I think her returning to school has helped her out a lot and I'm very happy. Tonight will be the first night we have gone out since well, Imani, passed. No, let me be real honest, we haven't gone out in a while because once Joie got pregnant and I got a better job, then she took it more easy at work and then eventually when to part-time status and then spent majority of her time to raise Imani. I am awed by the fact that she did a bang up job as a mother.

I love her more now than when I first saw her at the Jazz and Java before they closed in back in 2000. Anyway, as I sit here and wait on her at Moody's, which is one of the best dating spots in Chicago, I stir the plastic tube stick in my mixed drink and hold off ordering the food until she gets here. There are so many things I love about this place is the decor it is very simple, with dark lights and comfortable seats and cheap drinks. The burgers and fries are off the chain and it gets real crowded on a good football or basketball game. There are TVs placed around the restaurant and customers can either sit outside or in. Outside there are small tables and chairs in between the trees but in the summer time it can be hell with the mosquitoes.

Winter time is the best time that I like coming here and I really love hanging with Chi and Shay here sometimes.

But most times after work and Joie is not at home or we argue, this is where I come to.

Checking my brand new white Fossil watch with gold trimming, my eyes squint trying to figure out the time. It's a trip. I thought I told her that we were meeting here right after work and it's half past six right now. As the restaurant gets crowder, I am asked to leave the table I got for me and Joie because it's getting later so I go to the bar and grab a seat and order a Heineken and hopefully by the time I finish this first one, she will be here. Brushing off dust off my brown jeans, I notice Siah and a young man at the end of the bar where I am drinking. I put my fingers over my brow and try to get a clearer view. All I can see is that the brother has some short dreadlocks and is very tall, but that's all I can see.

It's so many people between us that I can't say hi and since Joie is still not here I am getting a little frustrated.

I know I told her that I was going to be here on time. And if she was in trouble or running late so I guess she forgot. Not after all the hard work we have been doing. I'm leaning hard on the bar now cause it's getting more crowded in the place and still no Joie. Now, I'm getting more frustrated. My face is set into a permanent frown and with a quick flash, I dig in my pocket and dial her cell phone to see where she is.

"Hello." I hear a giggling-murmur from her like she was caught off guard with the phone ringing.

"Oh, Issac."

"Yeah, remember me. Your husband? Remember our date at Moody's." Just the way she answered the phone irritated me. Like I was an interruption and that she really didn't want to speak with me.

"Babe, I am so sorry. I totally forgot. I'm at Nandi's house. But – " She scrambles for an excuse as other words tripped out of her mouth, "I.."

Cutting her off quickly he didn't give her the chance to even make anything up. He was burning inside. He gritted through tight lips. "You know what I'm tired. I worked a long day, then came over here waiting for over one hour in this crowded place and you say you forgot when you are the one who suggested we come here? You hanging with your sister while I'm hugging the bar wondering where you were?" Shifting from my seat, I take a long stride outside the bar and stands in front of it, while searching for my car keys.

"Don't worry about it. I"m on the way home, now."

"But I can come —"

"Forget it. Do what you were doing."

With frustration eating at my fingers, I instantly clicked the phone off and when it rang again let it go to voice mail happy to let her go. I can't believe her and even though I try not to admit it, today I will. She's back to her selfish ways. I thought she had changed, but right now she's chilling out and having a good time. Didn't even take the time to call me at all.

Dropping the phone into my black leather coat and pulling my brown Roca Wear cap on my cold bald head I stare ahead search the crowded parking lot and find my Land Rover, slid the keys in and get it quickly leaving a cold atmosphere for the comfort of my car. I slid my long legs in and guide the car pulling it backwards and guide it towards the opening of the park area and make a right off of Lawrence towards Sheridan. Thinking to myself that tonight, I rather have her sleep away from me, than with me in the bed. I don't know how much longer I can take this.

I can't wait til our next appointment with the therapist. Maybe she can make some sense of this because I cannot and at this point, I don't even care.

That's the scary part.

I know one thing though. She better not say a silly thing to me when I get home because I am not even in the mood for her after this stunt. I mean I really don't want to even hear her voice or see her but I'll have to deal with her.

Guiding the car into the small parking lot adjacent to our building, I slide it in, and park it, get out the car and head through the entrance to our building, give dap to Gary B, our doorman and head up the stairs to four. When I get to the crib, I jiggle my kegs from one of my pockets, open the door hurriedly and throw my coat on the couch and sit and watch television that's blaring opening my ears but I hear no sound. It's a numb type of feeling and as my hands switch from channel to channel, I zone out on the couch laying my long body there until I feel a heavy nudge wake me up a few hours later. I only know it was a few hours later because the time I noticed on my watch stated it was eleven p.m. and David Letterman's show was on.

I sit up and think about what I'm going to say before I say it. I don't want to argue with her I just want her to understand she's got to at least learn to respect the boundaries of our marriage. How does she expect us to make this work if she is acting like everything should surround her life.

This is a partnership not about one person.

When I look into her pretty eyes I sigh unconsciously and I shift up on one elbow while she places a kiss on my forehead.

"Sorry, I had to go to Nandi's and like I said I totally forgot." Fear and anger knotted inside her like a package she didn't want to feel or receive, but it was there. Lurking in her heart.

She was timid and nice when she rubbed her fingers on his she smiled brightly taking off her coat while shrugging it off instantly.

"How could you forget when we just spoke about this yesterday." I was irked by her cool manner and snatched my fingers away immediately. "You can't come in here, rub yourself on me, and then expect everything to be okay."

"Well, what else did you want me to say." Her eyes popped out of her head and she was straining as she tried to calm herself down.

I gritted my teeth, moved my body away from hers, and moved over on the couch as far as I could get away from her. I wasn't going to let her get away this time because she was going to have to tell the truth this time. Right underneath my body I pulled out what I found and read earlier in the day when I was changing in the bedroom. It was stuck in between some books in the back of the bookshelf in our room. The thing I read was written by her and now was as good time as any to ask about it.

I flipped out the red journal and stuck in her face confusing her immediately.

Her tongue was heavy with confusion, "Where did you get that?" She tried to grab it back from him but he waved it in her face and laughed while she tried to get it.

She was annoyed and her lips spat, "Give me my journal!" She lunged at my hands but I was too quick for her.

"You always love to write in this thing. I always used to be mad -no, jealous. Jealous that my wife couldn't even talk with me about her issues. Mad that my woman didn't have enough courage to tell me what's in her heart. Not that everything in here is about me. But the fact that you rather write about your pain than share it, is a trip to me."

I kept the journal close to my chest and decided on sliding it under my tight buttocks since I had gotten her attention.

"You ain't being fair."

"I just want to know." I paused as if I was losing my nerve. I took a deep breath and then proceeded, "Who's this guy you been emailing online? You cheating on me?"

"Please." She shook her head and started to giggle but her lips pursed when she saw the seriousness glaring back in his angry eyes.

"You must be. Why you got mad that Siah held you up the other night and you couldn't do your 'email date'. I thought I was the only man, you'd be dating."

She hissed at me pointing her shiny red nails, "You ain't nothing. You are a snoop, looking through my journal. You know that is sacred ground."

With eyes lowered, she sat on the opposite side of me and stated, "that email date wasn't even nothing."

She flicked her hands up and placed them in a tight knot together as she rocked her body from side to side.

I got off the couch and faced her and spit in her face, "I'll be watching you. I can't wait til we go to the next appointment with Ms. Jones. I'd love to see her response to your sneakiness.

You wonder why I am the way I am with you. Another man, would have slapped your face and asked questions later. You are lucky I'm not that ghetto." I stormed away from her and went to the bedroom, ripped the rest of my clothes off my body and lay in my bed while contemplating my next move.

From the room, I could hear the loud volume of the televison signaling that she was still watching it and I held my breath just waiting for her to arrive in the room.

She's either going to do one of a few things, find some paper and scribble her thoughts on it, call Nandi, or stay hiding in the room until she thinks I am asleep and then come in the bedroom. Or she might do her sneaky hiding thing where she'll go into Imani's room and shut the door. Gritting my teeth because the frustration of this situation is getting to me.

And now that I can hear the blasting of "All That I Can Say" by Mary J. Blige from the living room and she's probably sitting there jotting down thoughts running away from dealing with reality.

That is so Joie.

With annoyance pestering me, I pull over one of the down pillows and stick it over my head burying myself into the softness of the bed and letting sleep take me over.

I don't know when she came back into the bed, but all I know was that I felt her soft hands caressing my backside and her whispering my ears.

"Forgive me. I have been so selfish." She waited for a response and since I gave her none she continued, "Please, Issac. I know you are up."

She nudged her cold nose against my back and licked me which really irritated me so much that I didn't even dare let myself feel anything. I became numb and continued to sit still imagining that I was a rock on a lonely island with no one to call my own. I forced myself not to give into the passion. So when she continued her onslaught, I tore my shoulder away from her, turned to face her and pushed her on her side of the bed.

She was so upset that I actually saw tears coursing her face.

"Issac don't be like that." She searched my face for some sign that I heard her but she turned her half-dressed body away from me, got closer to her side of the bed and shut her mouth.

That's what I thought. She's afraid as usual to be real. And to be the woman I need her to be. If there wasn't a time that I needed Imani in this house, it is now.

It is another dreaded day in this awful house with him and I can't stand another moment with the strain between us. Damn, Corey for doing this to me. Seeing him that day threw me off. Shifting in the bed I slide out of it hoping not to wait Issac. As I watch him sleeping I miss the coolness we had before I saw Corey and before Imani was killed. It is like everything I worked hard for in the last few years was a waste. Nandi told me I should tell him the truth, but hey, it's not her life it's mine. I wish I could just tell him the truth but now that he's read my journals I don't know. I am afraid to ask him what he really think of what I had been writing until that point. Right now, though, as I tiptoe to sit in the plush chair facing the window to the lake, I don't want to confront him on it, does it really matter now.

Taking out a piece of paper, I write in my flowery hand style while trying to think of the appropriate words while I stare at the blank pages before me. I need to use words that are honest and truthful to the person so they can comprehend what I was saying. I want to be able to take off my guard and be emotionally naked and not afraid of anything. For this letter is going to heal my soul in ways imaginable.

And even though he might understand why I did what I did, Imani will. Today's the day that I will go the cemetary and lay down this burden because it's time to let go and face up to consequences. I think Imani will understand more than he would so maybe at some other time and space I can fully tell Issac the truth but right now I must get this out of my system. In a hurry I let the black sharpie pen in my hand communicate every single thought. I let syllables and synonyms tell the story that has been hiding in my soul for over two years. I let it all go. I write for my baby. I write for me. Mostly I write to set my soul free. I set down the pen and quickly fold up the paper and slid into the black envelope as my hand begins to tremble.

And when I slide the confessional letter into the envelope, I lick it sealed and let the tears roll down my face, sink lower into the plush chair, and close my eyes. As an afterthought I open my eyes almost forgetting I need to hide the letter. I put it inside my robe and stick under my blue and white cotton pajama pants so that if Issac awakes he will not see it. I definitely don't feel like explaining to him.

He will not understand. He will spit in my face and push me away like he's been doing since I forgot about that silly date at Moody's. Hell, I was only trying to go to that stupid place cause he wants to act like everything should return to normal around him. I'm still with him, why? I don't know. Maybe I'm used to him, being spoiled because he is working and still taking care of me. Plus with me working part time, I need to have that extra help. I mean, don't get me wrong, I am still in love with him but we have to communicate and lately we haven't been.

Pushing all that aside, I stay in the window and stare out of it soaking the beautiful day ahead although I see snowflakes coming down from the sky. I watch the snowflakes hitting the window until they disappear and melt away. Seeing the people below rushing in their heavy coats and noticing the ice on the ground laughing when I saw one of the women with heavy shopping bags almost slipping. Wishing that Imani was here to see another winter in Chicago knowing that she would be jumping up and down if she would be here saying, "Mom - my, look at snow flying. It pretty!"

Oh, God why did you punish me so, why did you take my baby away from me? Was I not good enough? Shivering my teeth begin to ache and I hold them together by keeping my mouth shut. Realizing that I must get away from the pain, I hurriedly run through the bedroom to the bathroom and gingerly open my mouth, sliding the bathroom cabinet open while searching for the medicine I got from my dentist Dr. Obiyola.

Gliding the liquid on my gums, I sigh a quick relief and then feel a movement behind me and being able to pick up on his tempting aroma, our eyes connect in the mirror. One set of eyes that are confusing to read and the other pair of eyes that were startled. I put down the yellow and taupe container and whipped my body around to face him.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Nothing." He stared ahead and barely looked in my eyes.

"Can I ask a favor today?" I hope he lets me do this and trusts me. I really need him to trust me and let me have my moment without being jealous.

His beady eyes were shrouded and I still couldn't tell what he was thinking but he leaned back against the wall and asked, "What you need me to do for you?"

"Could you drive me down to the cemetary. I need to go to Imani's grave. But I need you to drop me off and let me spend time down there by myself." I shifted against the bathroom sink as it was cutting into my behind. It seemed like forever that he even responded and my body was in a floating state. I couldn't breathe and my nostrils enhaled the nasty smell left from the tooth ache medicine. The left side of my mouth was throbbing with subsiding pain and I was still straining my ears to hear his response. Hoping that it would be yes.

"Ok." And that was that. He looked deeply in my eyes and leaned forward to kiss me on the forehead, "What time, Joie?" He grabbed one of my hands and linked it with his and pulled me into him and we stayed like that. My head against his hairy chest and his hand on my backside with us in one embrace that lingered beyond this moment.

We hadn't been this close since forever. I like this. I spoke my answer into his warm chest, "anytime is fine. I just need to go."

And that was the first time I ever saw him being the old Issac since all the messed up stuff that infected our relationship. He was warm and inviting to me and surprised me making me think twice. Maybe we might have the chance to reverse all this craziness. And when I felt his lips on my head, I held him close to me hoping we wouldn't let this chance slip through our hands and that things would be okay.

*

Later through the heavy wind at my cold face and the blowing snow which I used my hands to cover my face I sneezed as I walked at a fast past. Just a few minutes ago Issac dropped me at the entrance of the graveyard which was located on Irving Park Road and currently I was listening to the sound of Issac's tires zooming away me standing on Irving Park Road as he left me in the midst of the quiet Irving Park Cemetary. My hands were stuck in my black down coat and my head was covered with the hood of my coat plus the warm wool scarf Nandi had brought me the previous Christmas. It was a nasty day, but I was determined, it was time to really say good bye.

Going to Ms. Africa Jones, did help me, although the Joie that Issac sees would never tell. I mean, I thought long and hard about it. And I needed to tell Imani some things and hope she forgives me. With these thoughts in my head, I slowly trudge my way through the wide ground that is covered by all kinds of plots and the names surrounding me blinded me to the point where I thought I wasn't going to find Imani's plot. I kept going though and finally nestled in between a short plot and huge plot that was tall and in the middle was my baby's. My hand was on the pulse of my throat and the tears that had been hiding they began their sad roll down my frozen cheeks. I scraped my black boots as I found myself at the front of my baby's grave. Not sure if I had the words to tell her how I really felt. How empty I felt but I had to try to vocalize my feelings.

With watery eyes that seemed to want to keep the sad flow out of my body, I felt myself breaking apart and my voice cracked, "Hey Mani."

I stood there and didn't know if what I had to say was going to absolve me from the crime I had committed. But I know God is a forgiving God and maybe he'll let this one sin go. Just one time. My chattering teeth told me I better hurry up because I told Issac to come and get me in twenty minutes. Shoving the stupid thoughts that creeped in my mind, I said out loud. "Hey baby. Sorry mommy wasn't the best mother. I always had you in my mind. I hope you never forget that and know that I'll love you to the end of my days. I will forever love you and I hope you know that I didn't want this. You gone from me. Please forgive me.." I fell to my knees not carrying about the cold snow below and forgetting about my surroundings.

"I have to tell the truth to you about your...real." I sucked the cold wind in my lungs and spit, "daddy."

I stood there not sure proceed and feeling like the devil was laughing his butt off at me. Not miss confidant Joie. The one who used to have men fighting over her. Not the one who always exuded a lot of great positive energy. Everyone thinks I am the most confident person but inside my soul I am not.

I shake my head at my internal ramblings and take out the two page letter from my coat pocket. The one I wrote this morning while watching the world come alive. But it's done and I must speak the awful truth and let Imani know that I was a selfish person and that I want to be forgiven. I deserve to be forgiven. I lean forward on the ground and stare at her full name and curl up to the plot as I openly cry.

"All I can say is that I did love your real father. That it was good between us. He

supported me but I made the decision to move on with Issac. Your real father was not a person who I'd say would have been able to help you get the things that Issac have given you. Plus he disappeared and I couldn't find him. I swear if I knew where to find him, I'd have told him about you. Please don't be mad at me Imani. I love you and always will. Hope you will

always love me. You have a place right here", I pointed to my chest, "and you always will live and breath here."

I closed my melancholy eyes, shoved the letter on the ground with bright yellow daisies and white baby breaths I had picked up at Dominick's earlier that day. I searched the graveyard and found green trees all kinds just beautiful to my eyes even though I was in the midst of a snowing day. Even though I should be sad, I know Imani is smiling down at me. My feet slowly make their way back to the entrance of the graveyard and I wait for Issac to pick me up. I hear the slow peal of the phone ringing in my black Coach purse and I dig through my soft Kleenex tissues, various pens, Imani's funeral program, some kit kat's and with frustration on my fingertips curse aloud then finally finding the Cingular cell phone under the ten key ring that included my Name spelled out and a picture of Imani dangling from it.

"Yeah." A question forms from my mouth as I speak into the phone pulling my purse closer to me and trying to fight the wind that was in my face.

"Hey, babe, I'm like five minutes away. You okay? You sound tired."

"I'm cool. Just cold as hell out here. I'm trying to stay snow free." I stop as I see his car zooming closer to me.

"You close as heck. I thought you were five minutes away." When I step into the car I hear the funky old love beats of Marvin Gaye soothing my soul and I lay my head against the seat and rest my head. I see a huge grin on Issac's face as he drives down the icy roads to the house. Stuffing my purse on the floor between my feet, I ask him where he got the music from.

"Music Now. You know I download a lot of music and in fact you will love the rest of what I downloaded last night - some Freddy Jackson, Lakeside, Al Green..."

His excited eyes lit up as his lips moved fast and hurriedly.

I really can't believe he downloads all the old music. He's like twenty-seven but he acts like an old man - I guess it's okay though. I like listening to the old jams like "Say Yes" by Lakeside. I remember Momma pumping that through our old apartment on 64th and University. We had a huge four bedroom apartment more than enough room for me, Joe, Nandi and Momma. Although Momma didn't let me and Nandi use the separate bedrooms

until I got older. It was fun.

I bop my head from side to side listening to the music and I'm softly prodded by Issac.

"You warm enough?" His hand is pulsed on the temperature button in the car as he is waiting for my response.

"I'm good, in fact, I need to take this coat off for a minute." I shrug off the heavy coat only slightly so I can breathe a little bit.

"Okay, just checking..." He seemed to want to say something but he held his tongue in check and leans back to his seat with no response.

I continued to listen to the song and smiled, digging into my purse and deciding to send a quick text message to Corey. I need to figure how to talk with him and decide on whether we should tell our partners about our past relationship. He said no, but I feel like we should just because it'd be the right thing to do. All I need is to give Issac another reason not to trust me.

As it is, he's pissed about the email date thing. I hate the fact that he went into my personal journal to read my secret and personal feelings.

My fingers flop inside the junky purse and I finally find the phone and flip it open to dial the number but I forget that Issac's right here. So, how do I do it without getting his attention and then I come up with an idea. I am so good!

With my finger in my purse, I quickly pull out Corey's business card and then use my cell phone in my huge purse with one finger on the SMS function and let my fingers dial "hey let's do lunch" real quick while eyeballing Issac from the corner of my eye. He's not really paying attention and he's listening to "Distant Lover" by Marvin Gaye. His head is bumping from side to side and his hands on the volume blasting it even louder. He's cruising fast down Irving Park and we're getting close to Sheridan Road where he guides the car to make a smooth left. At that moment, I quickly press send and put the phone on vibrate so it won't even ring.

I pull my hand out of the purse while fanning myself.

"Dang, it's hot in here." I roll my eyes as I fan my face trying to bring cool air to my cheeks.

"Don't worry, we only a few books from the crib." He stops and faces me briefly eyeballing me like he was a detective, "So what were you doing with your hands in your purse?"

Dang, that's what I'm thinking. I"m thinking okay Joie act cool. On the outside my face is calm and not nervous.

My eyes are blank and I simply say, "I was answering an text that Siah sent me. She said something about lunch."

I couldn't read his eyes. It seemed like he was more focused on the road so when he turned into our parking lot right across from the Dominick's, I was surprised and confused, "Really?" He seemed to stop just to think deeply and then his hard edged voice chimed, "Well, why did you keep it in the purse. What are you really hiding?"

"Nothing." I fumbled with my coat, shrugging it back on, and looking into my purse at the vibrating phone. My sweaty palms itched to grab it but I was stuck with Issac's eyes boring into mines. I had two ways to do this thing. Lie again or tell the truth. But I didn't want to do it now. But before I could do anything the buzzing of the phone got his attention and he saw that I wasn't doing responding to it, so as he stopped the car and put it in park, he reached over into my purse and grabbed it.

Then shouted loud up in my face with a snarling face ," Why is Corey Johnson texting you? Isn't that Siah's fiancee?" The steam from his anger pounded my head with a heavy headache and I didn't want to answer.

So that prompted Issac to scream, "What the hell is wrong with you? Answer me, Joie!" He looked like he was ready to slap the shit out of me.

"Okay. Please don't be mad at me. Can we talk about this upstairs." I shifted uncomfortably in my seat feeling the warmth from my coat and trying to calm down my out of control heart. I felt like I was going to explode like an volcano if I didn't get out of the car with him.

"No, we need to clear this now. You are just so shady lately." His entire body was fully turned to me and his eyes were burning with questions. He looked ready to rip me up out of my seat if I didn't vocalize what he wanted to hear.

I tried to touch him with my gloved fingers but he leaned back. So I just spit out, "Corey Johnson is Pharrell." When I glanced at him, his eyes smoldered with confusion and more questions, so I continued. "Corey said he is a detective and he wanted to talk with me about Siah's wedding..."

I added "I just ran into him the other day, when I went shopping at Marshall Field's."

I tried to rub the side of Issac's confused face but he pushed back.

"I don't believe you. If I remember correctly Pharrell and you had a baby and you had an abortion. And he was crazy as hell. He was a drug dealer - "

"But Corey said he was uncover at that time and that he was trying to bust some drug dealers at the park district." I was getting frustrated now. I was telling the truth but he was letting his insecurity take over. He just didn't want to believe me.

His exasperated voice announced, "You just don't stop. If you don't want to be with me, just say it. Stop lying."

I opened the car door in an impatient manner and went to his side of the car creaked his door open and said matter-of-factly with fingers shaking in his face, "If you can't trust me, then why are you with me? Why don't you call Corey right now..." I spoke in a broken whisper, "Because no matter what I still love you and why would I be texting him about a date or something. I think you need to call Africa Jones for an individual appointment because you..." I stopped, "have serious issues." And with that I hurriedly walked from the parking lot to the apartment complex, jiggling my keys and running for the elevator although I did notice his eyes cutting through the double doors but he was too late and the doors shut as he came puffing like a little dog to it.

I just didn't care no more. Even if I had him call Corey he'd still be saying I am lying. I just have dug myself in too many holes with him and I don't know what to do to fix this. Whatever love we had was dying under all the bullshit we have created. I just don't know what to do about this at all.

When I got to the door of the apartment I was startled by the appearance of Corey and Siah. Shoot, this thing gets better and better.

Maybe part of me was very jealous when I came flying around the corner and saw her hands linked with his. The image is stuck in my head as I dig through my heavy purse and get the keys out. Then as I let them in, I see a tired and confused Issac walk up.

The four of us come into the apartment and then we all hug and speak. Well, actually me and Siah hugged and Issac and Corey barely spoke.

"Girl, what you doing here?" I take off my coat and hang it up in the small hallway closet.

"Well, Corey mentioned he ran into you downtown recently. I guess my honey recognized you from all the sister pictures we have hanging at home." She cuddled next to her fiancee and he kissed the back of her neck.

"Yes. We did say hi. He seemed to be kind of cool. You treating my girl right?" I jokingly asked him as I lead the four of us into the living room and threw my heavy purse on it. I didn't even try to connect with Issac's eyes as I sat down on the couch and slipped off my boots. Corey's light hazel eyes tried to speak to mines but I was shut down emotionally and I had nothing to give so I kept it real light.

His deep voice chuckled as he and Siah sat opposite of me on the love seat.

"I'm doing fine with Siah. I'm the lucky one. She is an angel." He kissed her full lips as I looked on in horror. No one can tell me nothing about pain. The pain of seeing your best friend and the father of your child in a romantic relationship.

The shock of it all had me totally numb and I just weakly smiled.

Issac sat right by me and shrugged off his black leather coat and took off his wool cap as he laughed uncomfortably.

"Man, I was tripping a few minutes ago when you texted Joie. At first I thought she was like cheating on me or something." He gestured his hands wildly like he was a comedian or something and we all took his crazy action as a something hilarious. The room roared with laughter and clapping of hands.

"Naw, man. I know this is strange for you as well me." He stopped his conversation to turn to Siah and mention, "Me and Joie and Issac all know each other. Remember baby when I told you I had to go undercover as a narc on the west side." She shook her medium length-locked head and smiled.

"Well, Issac and I used to hoop on the same basketball team at the park where drugs were being sold. I have to keep that investigation under wraps because of confidentiality

reasons, but that's how I know these guys..."

Siah giggled, "Jeez, what a small small world." She shifted in her seat closer to her man and whispered in his ear and then said aloud.

"Girl, these cops live daring lives. I couldn't do it."

Issac seemed to be opening up when he said to Corey. "Man, that threw me off...when

Joie told me that you were a cop. I was like, "what..."

He leaned forward to accept the white and blue card with a police logo on it that Corey flipped out of his black wallet.

"No problem. I know this is all confusing." His eyes searched mines for a sign that I wouldn't tell the real truth. That we made a pack a long time ago to not tell the truth about him being Imani's father. He was in the middle of the investigation at that time and then when I got married, it seemed that we should let the past be the past. Surely Issac and Siah would understand that.

I hope they would.

"Joie, so you knew Corey. Why didn't you tell me." Siah wrapped her thick fingers around her dreadlocks and half-smiled at me.

"I knew him as the undercover name of Pharrell, plus he dressed differently - more thug like and hip hop style, not like he is now." I explained and hope that Issac would believe that as well.

"Oh." She spoke like a girl in love giggling and laughing. Rubbing her hands on him every five minutes. Grinning like she won the damn lottery. She was so in love that her dark brown eyes shined like they were on fire. She was hanging on to every word he said. Her whole body was alive when he spoke. I remember those days. That is how I was when I was with "Pharell."

She was so oblivious to the fact that during the conversation Corey was trying to find my eyes and I darted them in between her and Issac. I wasn't going to look at him at all.

Cause right now, it's one of those out of body experiences. I couldn't even explain it to you.

The next thing that flew out of their mouth were in unison, "Can you guys do lunch with us soon?"

They chuckled like little kids and he kissed the side of her face, while she linked her hand with his.

Me and Issac just numbed out to their togetherness. I don't think we've been like that forever. But to make the conversation to keep flowing I chimed, "Ain't ya'll cute. Where did you meet anyway, you know me and the family been asking her for a while who her King was?"

I changed the subject cleanly and quickly and when my eyes connected with Issac I think he was glad I changed it too. I know he don't want to go to lunch with them. Even though he doesn't know that Corey is Imani's real father, I believe he didn't change his feelings about this situation. His body language said it all. He was uncomfortable about it.

"Oh, can I tell them bookie boo?" She cooed to him like a little child as she caressed the side of his face and softly blew in his ear.

Every bone in my body went limp when I saw that. I remember making love with him. Loving him til the dawn came streaming in the window. I remember creeping home some days when I first got married to Issac.

I know what you going to say that I was wrong. But hey, you only live once and by the 2nd month married to Issac I was faithful until that fateful day when I ran into his crazy twin brother making love to some huzzy in my bed. At the time though I didn't even know it was Isiah, I thought it was Issac and that made me crazy. But now looking at my best friend glowing with the new passion of a woman in love and knowing she's going home to him made my skin crawl something awful. Plus knowing he and I share a child that was killed irritated me. I felt very confused about my emotions that were boiling underneath the surface ready to explode. I hope it just doesn't do it today.

"Yeah...okay." He seemed ready to tell the story but looked at his watch.

"Hey babe, we got to get going. We have dinner with Charles and Nandi tonight at Dixie Kitchen in Hyde Park."

Oh no he didn't say he's going to dinner with my sister and her man! I can't believe Nandi didn't even tell me they were down like that. I chewed on my lip before I responded so I can let that soak in, "Oh, really."

My thin eyebrows raised in question and I stood up to signal they could go ahead and leave.

"Well, I don't want you guys to be late."

I hugged Siah quickly and gave he r sister kiss on her chubby cheek while giving a strong hand shake to Corey. Issac also stretched his long legs and strode to the front door and together we bide them adieu.

We made some tentative plans which I hope will fall through. I don't know how to break it to Siah but she needs to know the truth. I can't lie no more. It's not fair to her. To me. Or Issac. He definitely needs to know.

Whether this will break us up or not.

When he closed the door I noticed him grabbing his coat again and I didn't even vocalize a thing to him. I just watched him leave the house.

No kiss.

No goodbye.

Just a slam of the door and I slowly walked into the living room and put on my favorite show - Forensic Files slid down on the floor and put a pillow there so I could zone out.

Obviously this is my life. Today bruised, but still throbbing.

Chapter 9

It's been a few days of the same old same. He gets up; I go to work. We don't even acknowledge each more except ask if someone's going to be home to cook dinner. And sometimes I just don't care so I stay out late now. And he doesn't ask questions.

It's a don't ask don't tell policy.

Momma, Siah and Nandi don't understand why we are still together. Maybe he's still feeling guilty over Isiah killing Imani. Maybe I'm guilty because I have lied to him and not told the truth about Corey being Imani's real father. Not sure what the hell we are doing these days.

I'm just coasting. Hoping I won't get found out.

I have too many secrets that I have stopped journaling at home. I keep my journals at work and they are locked in a secret box where I only have the key. I only journal during lunch when me and Nia don't hang out. I go into the bathroom and scribble my thoughts. Sometimes during a boring meeting I will jot down a quick poem or two. Or the beginning of a short story.

As I sit and ponder on the craziness of my life, I am once again pissed at Issac. He still wants me to go to that stupid doctor, Africa Jones. I mean, our first appointment was okay but I don't know if I am really going to go through with it, cause, well....I have something I really want to do and I mean, I have to do. I snuggle down in the rented Focus 2003 Car I got from Avis today and position myself under the seat so I can do my little detective work. I check my watch. It is 5 p.m. and I had to lie to Ms. Powers just to leave work early so I could go get the car and then fight the downtown traffic, cruise over to 63rd and Stony Island so I could park in the Church parking lot across from Apostolic. It's a trip though.

No one in my family knows I can drive. It took me a minute to do it, but I got my drivers license right before Imani died. In fact, it was one month in the summer. But who cares...those are just small details. Now to the fact at hand!

I flip my black binoculars and zoom in on his beautiful body and her ugly big boned butt swaying down the street like she's a queen. I'm the queen. Getting upset I begin to lose some of my breath over them stabbing me in the heart. Don't she knows he is the mines. I can't stand her scary quiet butt no more. I wish I could take her out so I can get him alone. I had him first. Don't she know that? If I call him right now, he'll answer the phone and speak with me and it'll be all good. I slide down even further in the car just enough so my binoculars can check them out. They are walking all lovely dovey like everything is all hunky dory. Wait til they see what I got for their asses. I can't wait to surprise my long time love and best friend.

The last time I saw them they were coming out from the Church planning the wedding. I think that was last Wednesday which is Bible night at the church or something. She is sooo stupid, don't she know that I'm the one he was supposed to marriage any damn way? He's the one who was on his hands and knees professing love to me. I have called him over and over again and he's not answering it. I know he got the message because he is always emailing me back. He has the most cute responses to me.

It's all good. I'll see his fine butt at work tomorrow at the 25th District Police Station. He'll be sorry and so will she.

Til tomorrow I just wait and pray that he'll open his eyes to the truth. That I am the chosen one, not her. While they go to their little event, I have a nice little present for both of them.

It is 5:30 pm and she is still not here for the doctor's appointment so me and Ms. Jones go ahead and do an individual appointment because really I need her opinion. Especially about Joie. Joie has been so distant lately, not home much, and even Sandy and Nandi are worried about her because they say she has not been visiting them at all. Her full body is getting smaller and smaller and sometimes at night, I hear her vomiting in the bathroom. When I try to approach her about it, she won't talk with me.

She doesn't even journal like she used to. I sometimes hate that I made such a huge issue of it. Maybe if I would have been into her like I used to be, we would not have had this problems. And with me feeling pissed about Isiah being locked up, I just haven't been the type of husband she needs. Plus, I am having my own personal issues.

All these thoughts plague me since it's close to the holidays and this is the first one without Imani.

I'm fidgeting in the quiet room that is filled with just my breathe and Ms. Jones who

is just waiting for me to answer her question.

I stay still in the cherry red wood chair and finally uncomfortably let the words form themselves from my mouth and say, "Well, Joie seemed to be doing well." My voice trembled as I twirled my pen in my hand to occupy myself. "But – "

With a motherly voice Ms. Jones straightens her yellow legal pad that she was scribbling on. "What where you going to say?"

Her eyes squinted as she deeply penetrated my thoughts.

"I got a disturbing phone call before I came over here. And what was told to me doesn't make any type of sense to me. I mean, it totally weirded me out and I'm trying to find a way to ask Joie what is really going on."

A hard lump forms itself in my throat preventing me from saying more. My stomach is weak and I feel like I'm ready to throw up the Chicken Salad I consumed for lunch today. The lingering taste overwhelms me and I take out a white handkerchief to wipe my mouth. I sip from the water Maria gave me when I got here.

"Are you okay?" A concerned Ms. Jones asked then proceeded to push her thin rimmed glasses on her face, "What did the phone call say? You seem very upset.."

"A good friend of Joie's called, her name is Nia. Nia said that Joie hasn't returned to work after the first week she came back. Basically that she wasn't coming to work and everyone over there was very worried about her. Now, I'm tripping because Joie leaves home everyday dressed like she's going to work but I guess she hasn't been going to work because Nia said that Ms. Powers her supervisor was about to release her position. And today, of course, Joie isn't here. I thought things were fine but obviously I was wrong. So so wrong!" I angrily pull of my cap and my long fingers pinch the chair I'm sitting on,

"And she's been lying to me again..." my voice crackles like fire and hisses like a snake.

"This is very disturbing. I don't know what to say. I thought she was doing okay." She stopped briefly and then asked me directly taking off her glasses,

"Issac, how does this make you feel. That she lied?"

I couldn't even answer because part of me also felt she was like on some self-destructive course where I couldn't help her. Like she wanted to have the attention and maybe she was having a harder time in dealing with Imani's death plus right after she saw Corey Johnson aka "Pharell" she been more withdrawn. She always is talking about Corey and Siah more than usual and it's getting to an annoying point where I have told her to shut up about them. I think it's bothering her that Siah is in love with Cory and in an intimate relationship. It's sort of strange, but I try not to make a big issue of it mostly because I just want to forget it. Maybe it's the part of me that is totally messed up in the head about it.

When I realized the glaze in Ms. Jones eyes is because she is waiting for my response, I chime in, "Sorry about that. So much on my mind." I absently straighten up in my chair and say, "I'm pissed. I'm confused. Now, I have to deal with the unthinkable."

"Why are you so confused? How has she been acting in the house lately." She asks me as she leaves her seat and takes a closer position to me instead of behind the huge cherry oak desk table that is filled with a picture of her and her husband Rick Jones and their three children, Nydra, Tylonda, and Gerald.

"Well, she has been acting like every thing is fine. I guess she's been play acting. Like today she claimed she had to go to work, left with her business attache case filled with various papers and her gym bag. The same thing she has every morning at 8:00 a.m. Then she comes home before me or if she is running late she always calls like she is at the office."

My over excited voice grunts loudly as if it is fed up and tired with all the lies and inconsistent actions of my wife. I tighten my lips and exhale as if a truck just hit me and I'm bleeding. I just don't want to speak anymore. My throat is tight and the tears are hiding between my eyelids.

A sudden movement of the door startles both Mrs. Jones and I and we crane our necks to see who is entering. My nervous stomach wails but then it all subsides when I notice it is only Maria who discreetly tiptoes on her small five foot seven inch frame that is dressed simply in a red and black pant suit that fits her petite body perfect. Maria places a few phone messages on the desk and mouths "I Am Sorry" to Mrs. Jones who nods her head as understanding, then she dips right back out of the room.

Clearing her throat, Mrs. Jones asks me directly with her eyes meeting mines.

"So, you guys haven't done, anything that I suggested?"

The way she said anything was like a parent admonishing a child and it kind of pissed me off. I was trying to hold it together as it was, "NO, honestly not. Joie wanted to act like things were fine when we returned home and I let her. Ain't no sense in doing it the other way because Joie is going to get her way.." I rubbed the pulse by my throat and continued, " I didn't push it. Mostly because I do feel guilty. Bout what my. Brother did. It WAS WRONG!" My fingers were pushed together tightly like a finely woven ball and I couldn't even breathe. Mrs. Jones handed me tissues as I broke down and started to cry as huge tears escaped my stony eyes that sudden became rivers that flowed. My ebony cheeks were a fraud because they betrayed me and it wasn't supposed to be like this. With a shaky hand I wiped my face in embarrassment.

She quietly like the gather myself and my thoughts before she continued to grill me. She was like a task master. She was going to break me or at least die trying. Scooting closer to me she rubbed my cold sweating hand like a mother would and softly spoke.

"I know this has to be hard for you. How are you dealing with the fact that your brother committed a horrible sin like that to your family?"

I swallowed hard and thought about it then spoke. "Well. I told my mother that I love him and hate him at the same time. I try not to think about it. I try not to speak about it around Joie. I just try to just handle it moment by moment."

"Do you think you would do better in a support group? That is something I'd love to see you do. Because holding this all inside here." She pointed to her heart.

"Ain't going to do. It's gonna fester into something else that will basically hurt you or someone else."

"Well, maybe I could go once and see if it'll be something I could do." I nodded my head in agreement as I saw her bend her dreadlocked head as she began to write a referral on her clip board and then handed it to me. I rubbed the hard white paper stock that bore her initials AJJ and noticed the support group was in Uptown which was where I lived. I hoped no one would see me when I went.

"Do you think Joie might join you?"

My brows raised as I thought humorously how she would interact with the other members. With her loud mouth and attitude flowing she'd alienated most of the group or scare them. She would probably laugh in their faces and tell them how stupid they were about their woes and to "suck it up." That is her thing to do. To break down people and act like she's the perfect one.

I shook my head and responded, "No, I can't see Joie at that type of meeting. She's scare half of them to death."

My full lips were weakly curved into a half-smile, half-frown.

Mrs. Jones twisted her long fingers around her short brown dreadlocks and quickly used her black pen to write some more comments on her pad as she listened to me and then her head was up and her eyes bore into mine.

"I am very worried about Joie. It's like she hasn't accepted Imani's death..."

My heavy voice suddenly screeched and rose to heights as I shook the room with my power. "Don't you dare say that." A snarl was on my face and then I had to calm myself down by breathing and the room was silent for a few minutes until I continued.

"She is accepting of the death, I guess in her own way. She did visit the graveyard a few days ago to place a letter that she had written for Imani. She cried about it and then let it go. I think her talking with her mom and sister helps. She even stopped sleeping in Imani's room and we are together in our marriage bed. Things have changed. She has changed slowly but she keeps me closed out so I feel kind of alienated."

As an afterthought I apologized about my tone with her. "Sorry I just cut you off at the knees, didn't it."

"That's okay. Sorry, I just thought with her lying to you about work and other things that she wasn't accepting of Imani's death. Well, that's a good sign that she's gone to the gravesite..." She paused and then drawled out like she was yawning, but talking, " I wonder what was that like. Was she happy after going there? Calmer?"

"Seemed very calm. Like she had a weight lifted from her shoulder." I took a look at my watch hoping this session was ending soon, cause I was tired of talking.

"I see you are ready to go and it's time to go because that's our session. But please here is my business card and I want you to call anytime, or whenever Joie comes back home. I'd like her to call me as soon as possible and if anything goes crazy over the weekend or otherwise, please call me." With her pretty polished nails she handed me blue and white card with her initials heavily engraved on it and I slide that into my black wallet which was shoved right back into my back pocket deep and I stood up and shook her hand as I slipped out of the door to the fresh cold wind.

My last thought was where is my wife?

*

Damn, it's so cold out here. As I sit and wait for their return I wonder what the response will be. I mean, Siah is so transparent, she will most likely cry and fall into his arms. He might try to figure out who did it since he's a detective or whatever he calls himself. I can't believe she got the nerve to believe he's in love with her. She has much nerve. I pull out my night time vision glasses as I rub the cold from between my heavy winter coat and the heater in this new car ain't working so I'm feeling cold as heck. I mean, who told this girl that she is the bomb. She's only getting my left overs and he is trying to get back with me anyway.

That's why he wanted to chat a few days ago if only she knew. Oh well.

As my glassed eyes soak in their presence I can't help but giggle as I see Siah's tears rolling down her thick chubby cheeks and Corey's holding her nervous hand rubbing her back trying to console her. Their eyes can't believe themselves as they glance at a car with slashed tires and a nice scrawled message stating "Stupid B." on it. Yes, somehow, someway, she'll get the message. After viewing them being comforted by some of the church members and being guided back into the huge church, I drive off into the night zooming.

My job for the moment is done.

I chortle and wave a hand in front of my face while driving down Stoney Island towards the car rental place and remember that this the beginning of the new day for me. I finally decided that I wanted to leave the funky boring bastard. He's at counseling today and I hope he gets what he needs because I didn't want to talk with that stank lady. I did it so smooth too. He probably thinks I am coming home. Naw, it ain't going to happen. Right after I get rid of Siah, Corey and I can get together and resume our former relationship.

Back to Mrs. Jones. I mean don't get me wrong cause she definitely served a purpose. She got him off of my back as I dealt with Imani's death. But ain't no other conversation we need to discuss. Ain't nothing she can tell me about losing my child . She's the one with all three of her kids.

Can she really try to tell me how to deal with my child being killed by his crazy brother? Hell naw. So I move on.

As I glide the car back into Avis right in the heart of Chicago's south side I remove any

thoughts of Africa Jones and her mumbo jumbo, I make a smooth right into the parking lot, grab my gym bag and scoot out of the car but at the last minute I almost forget my prized possession; various intimate pictures of me and Corey back in the day when we were down for each other, some love poems he wrote me plus a recorded tape where he tells me he doesn't want her to know about us.

Did I tell you that fool thought I was lying about Imani being his child? Remember the day that he and Siah just showed up at my home unannounced, well a few days later I dropped by his job to talk with him about Imani and he flipped. Said I was talking crazy to him and now he's supposedly got a restraining order against me. Said I was talking out of my neck. I tried to ask him if he'd want to take a palimony test. He screamed no and had his henchmen handcuff me and throw me out of the precinct in the cold cold winter. But it's all good. Soon enough, my love, we will be together..

Too bad she don't know about it. Well, she'll know about us pretty soon. Cause after I leave this place, I will be dropping this off in the mail box so she can get this at her job on Wednesday.

Oh yeah, she's gonna know for 'sho. He can't erase a love like mines. Don't he know?

And I know what you saying...that I can just forget about Issac. Issac was never the one I loved. I just used him when I could. Especially when Corey turned his back on me. But now that Corey's back and I'm here, it's all good. All I have to do is "snap" her neck, or poison her drink and he'll be putty in my hand. She's always played second fiddle to me anyhow.

She's the one who was jealous when I got the man and the baby. I was living on easy street until Imani died and then I saw beautiful Corey strolling down the street that day.

Oh my god! Am I going crazy or what? I shook my head as I handed the car keys back to the sleepy attendant and started my walk back to Stoney Island and hailing a cab back to the North Side. It's going to be a long long ride back to uptown. Hold up, wait a minute. Maybe there's another way. I can worry about that later, I'll take a bus over to the red line at 79th and then ride the train all night long. That way I don't even need to hear his voice tonight. My small mouth curved into a tight grin.

Back to my family. If I told Nandi what I was doing, she'd turn me into the police immediately. That's why I am not calling her or Mom. Because they'd trick on me. For sure they would.

Before I could change my mind, the old telephone style jiggle of my phone jarred my attention, I drug my fingers through my crowded RocaWear black and silver purse which touched the brochure the doctor gave me and I shoved that near my ruby red lipstick and black eyeshadow and grabbed the phone, flipped open and slowly spoke, "who is it?"

My eyes widened as I heard the voice on it and I didn't know what to say.

"Yes, this is Siah. What the hell you been doing showing up at Corey's job? I thought you were a friend but apparently you are a hater..."

She stopped as if to keep her shaking voice in check. "You always been jealous, hunh? You might not want to admit it but it's all good. I know you did that stuff to his car tonight. Whether you want to admit it or not. But now this. The next time I see you, you better watch out."

Her voice seethed with hate.

"Or what. I'm supposed to be scared of my fatty fat. Miss Siah finally got a man, but she couldn't get her own!" I stamped my left foot and sang the words to her like I created the song just for her.

Then I giggled into the phone hysterically. "Please. You ain't no threat!"

I disconnected the phone and kept rolling. Trying to hail a cab, I stretched my petite hands out and got the attention of a Yellow Cab and I slid in and rested my tired soul. My lips requested that he dropped me off at Nandi's house. I needed somewhere to rest and that was a good place as many.

Maybe it's time to face up to the facts and know that the fat lady is singing her song and it's time for me to listen.

I listen to the zooming of the car roaring down Stoney Island and close my eyes for peaceful relief.

Chapter 10

As I looked into my sisters deep bronze warm eyes I realized that she is right. That it's time to look into my fears and be raw and real about my life. I'm lucky she ain't a teller. She let me stay at her crib until I cleared my head even though Issac had been calling her and mom too.

But once I told her the truth. The real truth about everything she understood.

Let me back up by saying, my life has been a rollercoaster for a long time and I kept running. Even when I had two men in my head I kept running for fear of being stripped down naked to the bone. Because it was a game. I love men. I love the attention both of them gave me.

The truth is Issac loves me and Corey never did. Because the first time I got pregnant by Corey he turned his back on me. Plus when I got the abortion he never even said a caring thing when I went through it and we went back to square one.

As I sit in Nandi's car with Crystalle in the back listening to her little boom box, I miss the times me and Imani had. But I also realize I made a lot of mistakes. A temporary frown marks my usually happy face as I see Nandi coast her 2003 Focus down I-94 and we are bumper to bumper down to the loop. It's a Friday and I asked Nandi to drop me down to see Africa Jones.

Back to the truth which had been hiding in my life like a lost friend, I had to pretend for so long that everything was great and fine. Because when Ms. Phillips told me I had Ovarian Cancer, I almost fainted. And that was almost a year ago. She told me the options. Tears are almost rolling down my cheeks and I suck it up, don't want Crystalle to get upset and me and Nandi done cried over this since the last week and half she let me stay at her crib in Chatham.

I really didn't know what to do when Phillips told me I had cancer. I could have been out there bad and went to town especially after Imani was killed but the too many things clogged me up.

Siah and Corey.

Isiah killing Imani.

Issac with his weak mentality.

Me pretending to be superwoman.

All I could do is start on my wicked path. I smile weakly as I glance at the zooming cars to my right. I lay my head back against the car rest and fidget with my fingers as I hear Nandi speak softly.

"Lil sis. You okay. You know you don't have to do this."

I soak in her nubian queen stance as her medium sized curly afro that frames her oval face shouts out, "Im beautiful and proud." Her bronze eyes are light and happy and there's a calm air surrounding her body. The energy that flows from Nandi is like the river jordan. Fluid and smooth. Easy going. The earrings dangling from her ears shout of Africa.

Her short legs are on the gas steadily and she's switching to break as we are stuck right before Cermak Road and butterflies are in my stomach dancing death like that's what will happen when I see him again.

It's been nerve racking because I told Nandi I did not want Issac's pity. I want Issac to be mad at me because I did use him. I was hurt. I didn't know what I was doing.

Hell I was only eighteen when I met him and then we got married when I was only nineteen. Then I bumped into Corey a few months after I met him. I thought I was the bomb. The flyy girl. I thought I could handle it all. What I ended up doing was cool.

I didn't have enough life experience to figure out how to handle all the craziness that I brought to my life by not telling the truth to Siah. She never had the opportunity to know about me and Corey because well, of course, he was known to me by another name, and then I let him talk me into the stupidness of pretending we didn't know each other.

I run my fingers nervously through my hair which I flatted out early this morning. Realizing I never spoke a word to Nandi, I drop my nervous mouth to speak.

"I"m stressed. I just don't want him to get all crazy on me because well, he might want to sue me because Imani was never his child in the beginning. And that is something I do regret." As I turned toward my sister our eyes met and I felt a shock run through my limp body. "He could clean me dry. Especially since I have been living with him the whole time. Dr. Jones said I only have a few months left too. What I'm gonna do." I trembled and fought back tears.

The other thought that plagues me is the drug kit in my purse which I accidently found when I packed my gym bag at home over a week ago. A lump in my throat won't let me tell Nandi what my heart knows. That Issac has been using for a while and I never knew it. I mean, when I drug my fingers through the dresser drawer and found it and my pinky was stabbed by a sharp item I had no clue.

Then when my bugged out eyes saw the syringe needles and white powder in plastic bags as well as some marijuana and smaller crystalized drugs, I think it's Meth not sure. But it tripped me out.

Now it all makes sense.

When I was kidnapped by Isiah he kept ranting and raving about Issac and him never being apart because they were the same person.

They had the same thoughts. They had the same desires.

It was weird because he kept alluding to them sharing drugs but I thought that he was his weird drugged out fantasies playing from his mind.

I never knew. I never once saw Issac do anything. Maybe that's when he wasn't coming home.

I touch my purse and finger it knowing that today Issac and I will be stripped down to the bone and we both must tell the truth. No more secrets.

Then he can decide what he wants to do with me. Whether I stay or go at least the truth will be out and no more mysteries.

I can't take it no more. I roll my neck and yawn like a Lion waking up for the first time in a long time making Crystalle's high pitch voice gently prodding me.

"Auntie, you must be tired."

I turn around and look at her medium sized dread locked face as I tiredly comment, "Yeah, I am." Really.

That is an understatement.

But it could be worse.

I weakly smile and stare at her bright eyed expression on her five year old face and noticing the matching smile on her face, I lift my mouth to brave a bigger smile and she matched that.

"I love you, Crystie" I chant as I turn back around and face the front of the car.

I hear the mumbling chant of hers as well, "You too Auntie. You beautiful. Just like Mommy."

I rub the pulse under my throat with a shaky hand and I hear Nandi push her Anita Baker CD on and as the jazzy notes float over my crowded heat I feel much new.

Like everything will be much better.

I'm hopeful that Issac will be as honest as he asks me to be. As my thoughts are interrupted by the sound of my jingling cellphone I ignore it. I don't want to talk right now.

As Nandi car came to a stop in front of the building at 122 South Michigan, I lean over to kiss her on a lean warm cheek and hear her say.

"Call if you need anything." She squeezes my sweaty hands and adds, "We are hear. We family. Don't wait until another explosion happens. We want to know what is going on, okay?"

"Yes, I will call. When this is over I will call you back. I plan to have Joe accompany me home tonight after the counseling so I can pack a few things and leave because I'm sure after I tell him the truth, he'll want me gone."

I sat there momentarily, blank, and feeling like a lost person. Not sure of the out come, but I know that God's got my back. Even though I don't deserve it. I'm the worse type of sinner. The beautiful liar type. Smile in your face with hidden agendas. Yeah, I'm the worse person.

I slowly grab my gym bag and purse, touch my black jeans and absently finger the brown leather coat I had on and pulled my brown suede hat on my semi-cold head, pushing my wild hair further into it, hoping that my covered booted feet would be enough for the icy grounds.

Stuffing the black and red scarf into the neck of my coat, I took a quick breath and opened Crystalle's door and gave he r quick peck on the cheek.

"See you auntie." She chimed happily like a bird chirping a melody. Her voice touched me in the soul. Reminded me of my Imani.

"I know soon.." my voice cracked and I took off for the building rubbing my thin rib bone and feeling my back aching again.

I chose not to look back but I heard the soft murmuring of Nandi's car zooming off as I opened the doors and walked to the bellman, signed in, and pushed the elevator button.

As I waited I saw him coming before I actually felt his presence. It's like a sixth sense or something. I guess we've been together so long that I know when he's near.

I hope the elevator comes before he steps through that door.

I dig through my purse with a red polished nail and find the brochure the support group gave me a while back just reading up on the symptoms of Ovarian Cancer. Everything I have gone through the last few months confirm that I have it, plus what the tests said.

I shake my head as if to erase the reality that I have cancer. I still haven't even told Momma and she'll cry. I hate that I'm destroying her happiness but I guess that is the chips we get. I hate that this has happened to me. I wonder if I left right now, and went for the experimental surgery in the Islands if that would work. I hate to leave everyone I love here but I need to do something, right?

The ding of the elevator bell jarred me suddenly and I stuffed the brochure back in my purse, smiled to the outgoing passengers, and slowly shifted my feet to get inside the elevator.

I felt a movement right by me, but didn't pay much attention to the person and besides it was crowded with other people too, so that movement disappeared from my view.

Last night was the first night that I told Nandi about all my weight loss and how my bladder makes me go to the bathroom like five or six times a day. At first I thought it meant something else, but when I had the tests done, the doctor had me get a second opinion and it was all the same - I had cancer. No wonder it was hard for me to have sex with Issac after a while.

When I began having constipation and diarrhea I though perhaps it was HIV. I was freaking out but I'm glad I went through to the doctor to get it confirmed.

The elevator was emptying out and I checked my Fossil silver watch to make sure I wasn't late for the appointment even though I was only coming to see Issac and not the therapist.

What is she going to tell me —

My thoughts were cut off by the ring of the bell and I glanced up and saw it was the fifth floor so I hopped off and walked towards the offices of Africa Jones and walked through the glass doors and saw Maria sitting there patiently as always.

Maria looked instantly wide awake like her eyelids were on a short nap and I interrupted her. I pulled my bag and purse close to me as I leaned on the counter to speak.

"Good afternoon, Maria. Can you let Mrs. Jones know I'm here for our 4 pm appointment."

Her bright eyes lifted from the slumber and yawned as she chimed.

"Sure, how you are doing today."

"I'm fine." I bend my head to sign the visitor roster and then heard the swoosh of the door signaling another visitor.

I sat down on the comfortable couch facing Maria and saw the visitor's beautiful sensual eyes and before I knew it, he was sitting right next to me. I tried not to even look at him.

I boldly met his eyes and then looked away thinking that soon enough we would speak.

I soaked in his bright red Bulls Jersey and loose RocaWear jeans that fit his tight physique perfectly and sighed. I am becoming aware that I might even still be in love with him but I wouldn't let my eyes connect directly with him. Maybe after I say what I have to say and we'll be clear. Maybe.

I'm sure that he was surprised to see me here sitting all relaxed and cool. Even though I am not perfect I know one thing, I am going to be real with myself and others around me. With that long pulling me up, tossed my hair out of the red cap on my head and became very defiant. I lifted my cinnamon chin and looked at him with authority chanting in my ears.

"Hey, Issac." I said with easy and calmness over my spirit.

"You talking with me, missing in action?" He shook his bald head at me, and pulled on his huge jersey and grunted under his breath.

"What you say?" My eyebrows raised in anger ready to attack him. Instead of going off like he normally is used to, I just pretended not to understand his look and deleted his sound of irritation.

"Mr. Perfect. That is what I'll call you." I plunged on carelessly. Didn't care about his reactions at all. "I can't wait to talk with Mrs. Jones so she can know how you are such a hyp-o-crite!"

My words slithered out of my mouth before I could correct a thing. And the look on his face was classic. His heavy lashes hid his eyes and his cheeks turned a darker bronze as the pulse in his chin waved in my face.

Yeah, I thought. Take that!

Before either of us could say a thing Maria signaled that it was time for our counseling session to take place.

I quickly shifted my feet right behind Maria's quick ones while Issac followed me. I could smell that Dark Musk african oil he wears and it mixed with his natural aroma irritated me.

I stuffed down the woman part of me now. I numbed that out and kept myself focused on the task at hand.

I faced Africa Jones head on with a nice smile on my weary face. I felt like two Joie's. The one that was happy and the one that was consumed by dark thoughts and dark things...

I shook my head and offered a gentle hand to her, she squeezed it and then we both took a seat facing her in the small plush office.

"So, how are you doing? The both of you?" She sweetly asks the both of us facing us in her nice and serene way.

"I'm fine." I announce.

"Yeah, right. You are fine, but you are the one hiding out with family. I know you were probably with your girl Siah or Nandi." His eyes bore into mines as he dared to me to say a thing.

My lips were frozen as ice and then I exploded, "Mrs. Jones, let me tell you about this man!" I stomped on the floor with angry feet that wanted to tap dance pain on his. I pointed at him with shaky hands and then pulled out of my purse the drug kit and flung it his way. "Tell Mrs. Jones, why I found that in our dresser drawer..."

His bugged out eyes were blank and he stated,"Please Joie, you wouldn't understand."

She calmed the both of us down when she asked us to "take your time and listen to each other before hollering or screaming because that ain't gonna cut it."

Her tough love stance surprised me. She normally would speak all motherly and nice to both of us.

"Okay." I let my heart beat slow down and then held my tongue for a few minutes to access the situation. "Issac, you on drugs and you never told me."

"Why should I?" He announced. "You are always on the offensive. You were the one who got pregnant by Corey, had his baby and had me take care of it!" He swung his neck around as if to confront me with truth that I already knows. He snapped his neck around as if he was ready to take his long fingers and twist his pain around my already soaked emotions like a twig and set me on fire. I scooted over on the counseling bench we were sitting on and let my eagle eyes stay as calm and unmoving. Just like the drug kit beside me and him on this bench. I flicked my nail on the kit and slammed it right on his thighs as I hollered, "So you want to put things on me. That's the Issac, sneaking, ass way of doing things." I puffed out fire continuing, "Please

Issac, tell me when were you going to tell me that you and your brother used drugs together. That your mother raped and molested the both of you." I craned my sore neck and rubbed my thin stomach as I waited for a response to my questions.

It was so quiet you couldn't hear the squeek of the business phones ringing outside Mrs. Jones office, nor other visitors murmurs or anything.

It was like we were on an island somewhere and the world was still asleep.

I could hear his uneven breathing and glanced at his frozen expression. His eyes were glassy with no real expression but my ears strained to pick up the staccato breathing and my observant eyes picked up the shiftiness of his body, his long legs moving from side to side as if he was ready to jet and his mouth was ajar as if he wanted to speak but his vocal chords were unable to move.

I shouted to get his attention, "Issac, tell me what happened..." I cut off as I heard the motherly voice of Mrs. Jones.

"Ok. There's a lot going on here. Issac, are you able to tell us your side and then we'll get to Joie?" She came from behind her desk and pulled a random seat from another table and placed the black seat in front of both of us and waited for his response.

I waved a hand in front of him and I saw the slow motion of his mouth forming words.

"It all happened so quickly and long ago that I never thought about it. I mean. When my mom first. Touched. Me." He wiped his mouth as if it were unclean and he motioned his long hand in front of it but he stopped and instead touched his temple. "My mom abused me when I was nine years old. It was right after my daddy left and she said that I was the "man of the house" and that it was up to me to help take care of her and it." He swallowed deep and hard and I felt for him. I really did.

Mrs. Jones prodded him, "How long did she abuse you?"

I was wondering those same things too. He never said a damn thing to me. It was a complete surprise. As his words floated over to me in my own demise, I smoldered with anger. I wish I could go rip that woman up.

How could she do that to her own flesh and blood? I shook my head in shame and had to stop my tears from flowing.

I heard the murmuring pain of his voice as he continued his story. "Only a few years. I think it was over by twelve but by then, she was trying to do that to Isiah and then I stopped that because I had Aunt Tina who kept us with her until we graduated from high school and then stupid Isiah went back to Mom until she kicked him out a few years ago. Then we both started on different paths. I focused on graduating early from high school and then Isiah focused on women, drugs, and anything to forget the pain. I numbed myself during the years with drugs but not as an addict per se, but more of like a chronic user who can do everything. Isiah was always more weak."

The dim light of the lamp in the room highlighted his sadness illuminating the feelings in my heart.

Now, I knew the truth and it wasn't what I thought it would be.

My brown eyes became gentle and kind. The ice around my fragile heart was breaking and I started to cry rivers of tears and hiccuping out loud. The echoes of my tears broke the tense silence in the room and as I scooted back over to him, he took my hand and held it close to his body, while Mrs. Jones handed me a box of tissues.

"I'm sorry, baby. I didn't know. I thought he was rambling about you using drugs. I didn't even know until I found the kit and it tore me apart. I thought you were using drugs because I shut down when Imani died and I thought that I was my fault." I laid my head on his shoulders and hear him whisper in a careful way that made me hold him tighter.

"No." His voice was raspy and sounded far away as he spoke. "This never was your fault."

I looked directly in to his hurt eyes and saw the fear glittered in them.

The three of us sat there for a while, just soaking in the confessions and secrets and then I heard Mrs. Jones speak to me.

"So, Joie... why did you run away, start stalking your ex boyfriend Corey and how did you lose your job?"

I was stuck. I knew that telling him the truth might make him hurt even further and I really didn't want to do that but what is, will be.

I sucked in the air and put my lips together stonily and spoke.

"So much has happened in such a short time. Let me begin by saying, I never wanted to hurt you Issac." My eyes met his wisty and wishing ones as I continued. "A few months ago I started to lose rapid amounts of weight and then I began to feel very bloated. At first I thought I was getting pregnant again, and after Imani being gone I was happy." My eyes shone brightly but then they dimmed then I started to stutter the words and everything came from me as if the words were escaping from prison, "but after I went to Dr. Omika she said that she was checking up on a condition, and that she wanted me to take tests. I then began to get back pain that was so painful that I started to take off days of work. At the same time I wasn't feeling good about my body. I didn't want Issac to touch me. I started catty little fights so we wouldn't have sex because sex was becoming painful. Then when I went back to Dr. Omika she said that the tests came back and I had Ovarian Cancer."

Liquid escaped from my lowered eyes and my voice got lower as I continued to tell my sad tale, "I started on a stupid path of ignorance after I ran into Corey. I needed something to do because I felt like I was dying inside. I felt like I am going to die so why act right? I pretended to go to work and instead spent lots of time stalking Siah and Corey. I did some horrible things. Horrible things." I stopped speaking and looked up into Issac's eyes and saw love there.

I thought he would be hating me. Instead of pulling away he kept rubbing my back and whispered, "its okay."

That made me want to curl up into his arms and hope we could make that. That rainbows could return to our lives even though we messed it up for a few bruises that we had along the way.

"It's not okay. I lied to you." I pleaded with him.

"But it was because I knew Corey would not even take care of Imani, like you would. I knew deep inside, you were a good man. Please don't think I hated you and that I was trying to hurt you. I know I have to work real hard to get you to trust me again, but I do want you to know I never mean to destroy you like this. Never." My eyes begged him to believe me. I met his eyes and they were gentle and understanding.

Mrs. Jones didn't say a word, she just let us vent like we were in the room by ourselves.

"It's something, we have to work on. I lied to you so how can I get too upset. We both have to work on trust issues. You need to begin taking care of yourself for your cancer and I need to go to rehab."

His words washed over my soul cool and easy. Breezy like a sweet summer day. It was unexpected and bold of him at the same time. I knew at that precise moment that he was well thought out about what he wanted and where he wanted us to go in the future. He wanted us together. Why would he even care about my trust issues if he didn't love me?

I couldn't vocalize my feelings at that moment. I just wanted to let it process in my mind and let myself live in this moment.

This moment of exquisite beauty. I breathed a heavy sigh and said, "What about Siah and what I did to Corey. I kept him away from his own child. Don't you hate me for doing that to him and totally lying to you. How can you be so forgiving?" I was scared at the time I let the words spill from my mouth. I looked around the room, swallowed, and it seemed a very long time before he answered.

I love you." He stared right through my body and I felt the power love energy as though it were a sun ray hitting my eyes at Foster Avenue beach when I take my stroll in the morning.

As the wet tears streamed down my face I hugged my husband and knew I was finally home.

*

On our way back to the house, I was so damn tired. We ran into Joe earlier on the way out of our session with Mrs. Jones. It was kind of tense because you know how brothers can be. My brother is no different and he wanted to beat the crap out of Issac but when he was updated on my stupid drama filled actions he shook his head at me and said to Issac, "Good luck man..." and gave me a quizzed look and waltzed back down the street taking his butt on the next train even though we said we'd drop him off.

I know what you are thinking. How can I be so calm after all the things have occurred, but it's just my life you know. Things are always happening and sometimes I don't plan them out. They just happen.

Earlier in the car, Issac asked me how I was going to get things straight with Siah. Basically just have a real talk with her. That's all I'm going to do. I know she's going to be upset but not as mad as Corey will be.

I hope he doesn't think I am lying to get back with him. It's a wrap. He's with Siah and I can tell she is in love with him.

I am not trying to "break" them up. I just was going a little crazy. A little mad. Everyone takes a walk on the wild side sometime.

I am no different.

As I sit here in the living room, my eyes stare at the scattered bags that I lined our living room. I guess He couldn't live without me.

The stench of old food was in the air and the first order of business was to clean up the house. Issac was sleeping on the floor beside me and I tipped around his bare chocolate chest hoping the movement of my body would not stir him until I got back.

I gingerly lifted myself from his side and was almost out of his grasp when I hear a raspy, "What you doing?"

"Taking out the garbage."

I smile at him and try to move away from him but he takes my hand and lifts himself up and say, "Let's do this together then."

With big eyes laughing at me and I shake my head and him tighten the grip smiling and knowing that eventually we'll be alright. Life ain't perfect but even though the rainbows left us for a few brief moments, the rain clears the way for another brighter day.

About the Author

Pam Osbey, is author of several 11 books of poetry, including, Musings of a Mocha Sistah, Smoke Signals, Tears of a Woman: The Light Within and is highlighted in seven anthologies, as well as several issues of Black Romance and Bronze Thrill Magazines. She received her Bachelors of Arts Degree in English from Grambling State University.

She is currently working on other literary projects and assisting authors with publications under her small press, Osbey Books. She resides in Brooklyn, New York.

