A Heart Not Easily Broken (The Butterfly Memoirs) (26 page)

A wave of nausea hit me.

‘I got raped. There’s a chance I could have gotten pregnant. To be safe, I took a pill to get rid of anything growing inside me. Oops.
’

The truth would be just as bad as the lie.

The implications of my decision made my head spin.

When break time came, I handed the sleeping orangutan to another volunteer before heading for the break room. I found an empty table and spread my notes for school around.

I had a lot to catch up. Since the rape, my grades had slipped. Keeping my mind focused on my responsibilities had gotten harder. Three months of not sleeping in order to avoid nightmares left me exhausted during the day.

The one bright spot in my life besides Brian’s return had been finding an animal clinic that allowed me to work and earn credits needed for graduation. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a paying job. Brian’s continued donations to my bank account were the only things making it easier to breathe. Damn, I hated taking his money. No matter how many times I’d told him not to put any more in the account, the more it seemed to show up in larger amounts. Honestly, I didn’t know what I would have done without him.

I owed him so much, yet held back from him.

My conscience was eating me alive.

Guilt plagued me when my cell phone rang.  

“Hey, baby, are you busy?”

I closed my eyes and focused on Brian’s voice. Despite my guilt, his voice continued to soothe me.

“Taking a break, what are you doing?” I closed the notebook and gave him my full attention.

“I’m leaving practice at the studio. I was on my way home and started thinking of you. The days have been flying by. Even though you’re not far away, it seems as if it’s just as hard to be with you.”

“Yeah, I know. I should have a few days off later this week.”

“I hope one of them is Sunday. My mom has invited us over for dinner.”

“I’m off then. Visiting your parents would be fun.”

“Good. By the way, why didn’t you tell me you’d been talking to my mom?”

“Oops, busted.” I laughed lightly.

“You can say that again. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to think of me as the clingy girlfriend. I called her one day to say hello. And, I don’t know, talking to your mom felt as though I was near you.”

Hearing the voice of wisdom from an older woman after my attack reassured me. I could have talked to my mother, but she would have known something was up within five minutes of calling. Mrs. Young didn’t know me, so there was nothing to fear.

Brian was quiet on the line.

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line by not telling you.”

“No, that’s fine. It just surprised me she was the one who told me.”

Lie by omission. Thank God I wasn’t Pinocchio.

“Well, your mom enjoyed sharing childhood stories.” I needed to get his mind off of asking more questions. The demeanor coming through the phone felt as if he was going there again.

Brian groaned. “I don’t like where this is headed.”

I forced out a laugh. “My favorite was when your father jumped on the phone and told me you were a junior.”

Another groan.

“You never told me your full name was Winfred Brian Young, the third.” This time my laugh was real.

“Your response is the reason why I choose not to tell people, at all.” He tried to sound upset, but a chuckle slipped out.

“So you were never going to tell me? When was I going to find out my lover was really named Winfred? When we got to the altar?”

Brian’s laugh faltered slightly. “I don’t know. Maybe I planned on taking my secret to the grave.”

I cringed. That was an odd thing for him to say. Did he know what secret I held?

“So, no calling you Winfred?” I kept my voice light.

“No. The only Winfred is my dad.”

“Hmm, okay, so Winky is out, too?” I waited for his response.

His father, Winfred the second, had me rolling on the floor in tears as he shared the story of Brian’s childhood nickname. After years of having girl after girl, Mr. Young grew resigned to not having a son. Then one day, Brian slipped in. Mr. Young, ecstatic at no longer being the only penis in the house, nicknamed him Winky because his penis wasn’t the same size as his. The nickname stuck until Brian got old enough to understand what it meant. He threatened to run away from home if they called him that again.

Seconds passed without a response. Maybe now had not been the time for jokes.

“Just for the record, you outgrew the Winky nickname a long, long time ago.” I lowered my voice to sound sultry without drawing attention from my coworkers.

He chuckled. “Care to prove it tonight? You’ve damaged my ego. It could use some stroking.”

I closed my eyes. The tense sound in his voice seemed to dissipate. I would love to spend time with him again. I needed to figure out how to answer whatever questions he had without digging a bigger hole for myself.

“What do you have in mind?”

“My place, tonight. Pack a bag and spend the night with me.”

For once I was glad we were on the phone. It would be impossible to hide the horror in my eyes. I could not go back to his house.

Javan would be there.

My heart raced; my lips went dry, and my entire body shook. I’d managed to avoid him for the past three months. Especially when he came to pick up Yasmine. Brian’s presence would never ease my fear.

I steeled my voice in an effort to sound as normal as possible. “I can’t. I have a paper due Friday. If I come over tonight, it’ll never get done.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. Dammit.

“You had my hopes up. My ego will never recover.”

“I’ll make it up to you. Why don’t you come over Friday night? I’ll be worth the wait.”

“You’re always worth the wait.” His voice lowered, taking on a thoughtful tone. “I guess I can suffer through a few more days.” He paused. “We need to talk, Ebony. Please be free on Friday. Whatever it takes, I’ll be there. Okay?”

My internal alarm went off. ‘We need to talk’. Those words never led to a happy ending.

“Is everything okay?” I blurted.

“Yeah. I realized something the other day, and it’s my fault. We’ll talk about it Friday.”

“Okay, my place as soon as you’re free.”

“Your place.” The line went quiet for a moment. “I love you, Ebony.” His words seemed to leave a lot of something unspoken.

I swallowed hard. “I love you, too.”

Chapter 30

I waited patiently in the living room of Ebony’s house for her to come downstairs. As excited as I was to be with her again, I dreaded the conversation we needed to have. How did I approach it? What did I say?

 I’d been musing over these thoughts for the past few days and still hadn’t come up with an answer.

She looked as beautiful as always in a brown dress, which complimented her complexion and eyes. We kissed when she reached the bottom of the stairs. But in the truck we rode in silence.

Ebony’s gaze focused out the window, taking in the scenery as we drove.

It was Sunday evening, and we were driving to my parents’ house for dinner. I was glad to be with her again. I’d canceled our plans for Friday night due to a last minute late-night recording session. It pissed me off when we waited for nearly three hours for the artist to show up. We worked well into the wee hours of the morning before quitting. On Saturday, I slept most of the day.

Now it was Sunday, and we both were on edge.

Over the last few days, I’d pushed what Javan said aside. Why should I believe him? Ebony couldn’t have made love to me the way she did if she wanted to be with another man. She couldn’t fake what I’d seen in her eyes or her whispered words.

I couldn’t ignore the changes, but I was sure it didn’t involve another man.

It couldn’t.

The only valuable advice Javan gave me regarded dealing with her family. The last conversation we had about family dealt with her sharing her brother and sister’s opinions about us. We still hadn’t talked about her parents. In the end, their influence would affect our future, good or bad.

Since we were on the way to visit my family, there was no time like the present to bring it up again.

I reached for her hand. It felt soft in mine.

“Can we talk?” I focused on her eyes as mine left the road.

The nervousness came back. Though she smiled with her lips, it hadn’t reached her eyes.

She squeezed my hand. “What’s on your mind?”

I turned back to the road. “Family. I’m glad you get along with mine. It means a lot to me.”

“You were right, Brian. They are wonderful people.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. That’s what I want to talk about. Have you talked to your parents yet?” I risked looking at her again. She seemed surprised. “When we started dating, you were adamant about their opinions. You told me how your brother and sister felt. What about them?”

She turned her attention back to the road. “My parents…they don’t know.”

I inhaled sharply, forcing myself to think before I spoke again. I glanced over at her profile. “You haven’t told them?”

“No.” Her attention stayed on the road.

“Why? If your siblings know, why keep them in the dark? Are you ashamed of me?”

“No, Brian, why would I be ashamed of you?” This time she did look at me. “I’m not ready to hear their opinion, that’s all. I don’t have parents as understanding as yours.”

I clamped my jaw shut to keep from shouting the thoughts in my mind. I didn’t care whether they accepted me or not, I just wanted her to acknowledge our relationship to her family, the same way I’d told mine.

“Would your parents be opinionated about someone you’re in love with?”

“I don’t know. And honestly, I don’t want to know. I like the way things are between us. It’s you and me. I don’t care what my family thinks. The only reason Tre and Shana know is because she talked it out of me.”

I faced her when we reached a red light. “You mean you wouldn’t have told them?” Something in the pit of my stomach dropped.

“I honestly don’t know. What I do know is when asked, I didn’t hold back. I’m not ashamed of you or this relationship. I would rather not invite unnecessary issues into it.” She faced me. “I’m sure you don’t understand my reasoning. Do I plan to tell them? Yes, in my own time, when they’ll be more understanding. Telling them I’m dating a white man when every time I talk to them they’re telling me about an available black man …it’s not how I want to tell them about you. I don’t want them to think I’m with you because of what they say. When they meet you, they need to have fresh eyes. I want them to accept you and appreciate how happy you’ve made me. I don’t want them biased.”

The light turned green, and I pushed on the gas. She had a valid argument.

“What if that day never comes? Do you think they’d stop pushing guys at you if you let them know you were in a relationship?”

“I don’t know.” A flicker of uncertainty passed over her face.

I pulled her hand to my mouth and kissed it. “Don’t wait for our wedding day to tell them, okay?”

“I’d never do that. I want my father to walk me down the aisle and give me to you with his full approval.”

“I do, too. But this is about us, not them. You’re the one I want to marry.”

She glanced over at me, a slight smile on her face. “You still want to marry me?”

“Always,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster.

Our fingers intertwined. She hadn’t answered all of my questions, but it would be enough for now. Everything from now on would be about actions. Ebony was with me because it’s what she wanted. Drudging up anything else would be asking for trouble.

“I’ve never been more serious about a woman in my life.” The words popped out of my mouth. “I want to make you happy.”

Ebony unstrapped her seatbelt and leaned across the middle console.

“What are you”

She planted a big kiss on my mouth and slid back onto her side of the car. “You have no idea how happy you make me.”

This time, I could see she meant what she said. It was in her eyes. The knot in my stomach unraveled.

“I’m glad there was no oncoming traffic.” I licked the flavored lip gloss left behind.

“I checked first.” Our fingers locked together again.

Our conversation had only scratched the surface, but it would be enough to keep our relationship moving toward our goal. For now.

***

Cars jammed my parents’ driveway and the curb when we arrived.

“Whoa, what’s going on here?” I looked over at Ebony. “Do you know?”

She appeared surprised too. “Not a clue.”

We held hands as we walked to the door. Before I could ring the bell, Bridget pulled the door open and flung her arms around me.

“Baby brother!”

Ebony laughed as our fingers slipped apart from the force of the hug.

“Ow.” Man, love hurt.

“He’s here!” she yelled over her shoulder before turning back to face us. “Ebony, it’s good to see you.” Bridget hugged her as well. “Come on guys, everyone’s out back.”

Bridget’s enthusiasm was infectious as she dragged us through the house to the patio. When we entered, everyone cheered.

I glanced around the backyard before Bridgette pushed me to the receiving line. A ‘Welcome Home’ banner hung on the newly built gazebo. My father had fired up the grill again and the family had added folding tables to the yard. All the trimmings for a Young family barbeque sat in place, along with coolers filled with ice and drinks.

Hug after hug came from family and friends as I walked down the line of waiting arms. Everyone seemed to be there; aunts, uncles, grandparents, nieces, nephews, and my sisters.

My mother and father waited at the end of the receiving line. I’d just finished hugging my mom and shaking my father’s hand when a voice I hadn’t heard in two years floated around over his shoulder.

“I knew you’d do it one day.”

My cousin, Brad, emerged from the crowd.

“No shit!” I laughed.

“Brian!” My mother swatted my shoulder.

We grabbed each other in a bear hug. “What are you doing here?” I punched him in the shoulder as we stepped back and appraised each other.