A LaLa Land Addiction (8 page)

Iman was stoic as the plane landed and he headed for his waiting bulletproof SUV. He slid inside as the driver closed the door. Iman didn't like the “ain't shit” feeling that came with discarding Bleu. To just throw her away felt wrong, but Sandoza's terms were clear. Iman gave his driver the address of his L.A. condo. He was rushing home to the wrong woman and he knew it, but still he pressed forward. It took him an hour to even talk himself out of the car once he arrived. He found himself at Tan's doorstep. He had the key. He could have easily entered the condo, but instead he rang the bell. When she opened it her beauty stunned him. She was prepared for bed. Her plain face glowed and her hair was pulled up into a messy topknot.

“Those shirts always did look better on you,” he said with a short smile as he noticed she still slept in his button-down oxford shirt and tall socks.

“What are you doing here?” she asked with a smile. “How was Tijuana? Did you see Papa?”

“I saw him. He's okay,” Iman lied.

“Really?” Tan asked, frowning in confusion. “Are you sure?”

“I'm sure,” Iman confirmed.

“Thank God,” she whispered as she played with the diamond cross necklace around her neck. She sighed in relief. “You want to come in?” she asked. She could see despair in Iman's eyes. She had known him long enough to notice his distress, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“I want to come home, Tan.”

There. He had said it. He couldn't change his mind. She recoiled in shock as he walked into the condo without allowing her to respond. He knew there was no need to wait for permission. She wanted him here.

“I don't understand. What does this mean? A few days ago you had divorce papers sent to me and now—”

“Now I want my wife back,” Iman finished for her. The words in his mouth tasted like vinegar. All he could think of was Bleu.

“And the bitch you had in my house? What about that situation?” Tan asked.

“It's done,” Iman replied. “That's finished.”

Tan looked at him skeptically.

“I know you've built walls over the years. That was part of the problem between us. You shut me out. You lost our first kid and then another and another—”

“Iman, don't,” Tan whispered.

Iman took a seat and placed his elbows on his knees, then tented his fingers against his forehead. He took a deep breath. He loved Bleu, but that didn't mean he didn't love Tan. He realized that there had been so many factors that had contributed to the destruction of his marriage. This was a hard conversation. One they had never had the courage to have, and so many things needed to be said.

“I was there too, Tan. Right there with you, right there feeling it. I never blamed you. I only wanted to help you through it, but somehow shit got all messed up. The love got lost. You needed someone to take it out on and that was me. It tore us apart, and I fell out of love with you. You changed and I changed. I gave up.” He lifted his head and looked at her. “I want to come home and see if we can get back what we lost. You deserve that.”

Tan was speechless. Every word Iman spoke chipped away at her hard exterior. “You can't just come in here talking like this after you paraded another bitch in front of me. You chose somebody else. You put me out of a home we built together and kept her there with you. What was it about that girl? You've had hoes before, but this was different. She wasn't like the others. You moved her in. Do you love her?” Tan asked, unable to accept the fact that there had been someone significant in Iman's life.

“She is the opposite of you. When she wanted to cry she cried. She was vulnerable. Soft. Those are the things that made her unlike the others. Unlike you.”

“She sounds weak,” Tan spat, crossing her arms and turning her nose up in disgust.

“She is,” Iman admitted. “She's recovering from a crack addiction. So when I tell you that it's done between me and her … I mean that. You don't have to worry about that.”

“Well, good,” Tan said as she crossed her arms, and she looked nervously at her feet. She wanted to kiss him, but she refrained. He could tell she was holding back.

“Be weak,” he said as he stood and crossed the room, stepping into her intimate space. He was so close that she was uncomfortable. She placed a flat hand to his chest to keep a bit of distance between them.

“Iman,” she resisted.

He removed her hand. “Be weak,” he demanded. “Submit to me, ma.” It didn't even feel right, calling her what he affectionately called Bleu. He needed Tan to lower her defenses, to be more like Bleu. He needed Tan to make him feel even an inkling of what Bleu made him feel.

“You'll hurt me,” she whispered.

“I didn't hurt you the first time,” Iman said. “Life hurt us. Heal with me. Show me what you're feeling, Tan. No more walls, no more blocking me out. Let me love you.”

Tan lowered her head and a tear escaped. Iman swept the tear away with his thumb and then rubbed his fingers together as if he wanted to see if it was real. He pinned her against the wall, lifted her chin, and then placed his lips against hers. She melted, right into him. Tan pulled away first and looked up at him, seduction glazing her eyes as she began to unbutton her shirt. She bit her lip as she began to walk toward the bedroom. With every step she took she left a piece of clothing as Iman admired the view. “I've got something soft for you,” she said. She beckoned him with her fingers as she headed into the bedroom. Iman loosened his tie and followed her, hoping that their lovemaking would further help him shake the hold Bleu had on him.

 

8

Bleu stood at the window overlooking the ocean as hints of orange and yellow began to lighten the morning sky. It seemed the entire world was moving on, time was passing, but she was stuck in the same place. She couldn't put one foot in front of the other. Emotionally and mentally she was lost somewhere between sanity and insanity. The world around her was coming to life, introducing a new day, but Bleu felt nothing but darkness. It had been a week and Bleu had been holed up in her room, curtains drawn, her tears her only company. If it hadn't been for the trays of food Jess had placed outside her door, Bleu would have starved. She just didn't have the motivation to do anything but sulk. She was lonely without Iman. It wasn't the fact that she was away from him. They had been apart before, but this wasn't regular distance. She felt abandoned; like a baby dropped off on a firehouse doorstep; she had no one. It hurt. Unlike anything had ever hurt before.

Jess had been patient with her. No one had forced her to participate. She just wanted to be left alone. She was angry that Iman hadn't visited and when she called she received no answer. He was cutting her off.
I knew it,
she thought. There was a cloud hanging over her head causing a gloom so dark that it felt like life was raining on her. Anxiety filled her. She was suffocating.

Knock. Knock.

“It's open,” she said.

Jess came through the door. “Good morning, Bleu.”

Bleu gave her a tight-lipped smile in response but didn't speak as she turned back toward the window.

“I know you're hungry. No more room service, Bleu. If you would like to eat, you will have to come to the cafeteria,” Jess said.

Bleu heard the door close and then huffed in frustration. If she could stay in this room forever she would, but she was starving. She slipped on sweatpants and a hoodie before wandering out of her room. Bleu grabbed a cup of coffee and then wandered out to the beach. She inhaled deeply. The scent of ocean filled the air and she closed her eyes as the mist soothed her. Bleu was so low. She was never supposed to be this girl … the kind who threw her goals away as if they never mattered. She was stupid and materialistic.
I've made so many bad choices. I could have stayed in Flint for this,
she thought in disappointment. She really just wanted to go home, but she feared that if she walked out of rehab eventually she would go back to smoking. It was always present in the back of her mind. It was a high that felt so good that nothing else compared. Smoking crack was better than sex, better than love, than adventure, than money. She had never understood why her mother couldn't stop until she took her first blast. It wasn't until then did it all make sense.
I need to talk to him. I just want to hear his voice,
she thought. Bleu couldn't stay here guessing whether or not Iman still wanted her. She needed him to tell her that he would still be there when she got out. That he still loved her and that he would stand by her. That was the only thing that would get her through the next six weeks. She turned and found Jess heading her way.

“Hey, I need my phone to make a call,” Bleu said.

“Okay,” Jess said in a soothing tone. “How about I make you a deal? If you come to morning group, afterward I'll take you in my office and give you your cell so that you can make your phone call.”

Bleu rolled her eyes, not really feeling the bargaining game Jess was playing.

“It's the only way you're getting your phone, Bleu,” Jess said. “Come on. Just give it a shot. If you don't want to do it in a group setting, I can arrange for you to meet with a counselor one-on-one.”

Bleu nodded. “The private session sounds okay,” she agreed, but as she followed Jess inside she was already regretting it. Bleu wasn't naïve about the skeletons she had tucked in her closet. She tried hard to hide them. Coming up, she was always the daughter to crackhead Sienna. The entire hood knew that Bleu's parents were on drugs and she had been embarrassed by that for as long as she could remember. She remembered her mother inviting men to their apartment when Bleu's father was gone. It was the smell of them that haunted her the most. Sienna had done anything to get high. Bleu had been exposed to so much. She had blocked out the rough hands that had fondled her little body. When her mother had become worn-out and the local D'boys no longer found her attractive, she sold Bleu's innocence. It was a part of her life that she had blocked out. No one knew about it. Not Noah, not Iman. All of these things had led up to this moment. She was hurting inside. She had tried running from her past. It was half the reason why she had wanted to go to college so far away from home. She loved that she had a fresh start. It had been her chance to start over. No one knew who she was or the nothingness that she came from. She was just a girl on her grind from a little city from the Midwest until she made people think otherwise. She had messed up … royally and fallen into the same trap that her parents had been lost to.
Maybe it was supposed to end up this way. I was running from fate,
she thought. She didn't need a therapist to tell her that she was fucked up. She had known that for a long time but had tried to cover it by overcompensating in other areas. First she dived into her studies as a distraction from the madness. Then there was the lifestyle, the weave, the clothes, the makeup. Living luxe in the big city was like playing dress up every day. She had changed so much about herself that she didn't recognize the little girl who had allowed random men to violate her. Moving drugs in and out of Mexico made her feel in control for the first time in her entire life. Then there was Iman. Loving him was so intense that it made her forget about everything and everyone before him. He made her feel so worthy, so priceless, but she couldn't help but wonder if she provoked the same emotion out of him.

*   *   *

Bleu entered one of the offices and was greeted by a friendly-enough face. Bleu didn't pay attention to the name or even hear the words that were coming out of the man's mouth. She wasn't open to this. It was bullshit. They couldn't force her to divulge her innermost thoughts. Some secrets should just go to the grave. So as the therapist inquired about her, Bleu just told him what he wanted to hear. She smiled amicably and did more listening than speaking until it was over. She didn't realize she was blowing off something that could actually help her. This session was just a means to an end. She had to give a little to get something and she desperately needed that phone call. Jess was waiting outside of the door for her, leaning against the wall with Bleu's cell phone in her hand.

“Here you go,” Jess said, handing Bleu the phone. “You've got fifteen minutes. Perhaps next time you'll take the session more seriously.” She walked away, shaking her head, as she gave Bleu privacy to make her call.

Bleu dialed Iman's number as a ball of nerves formed within her. Her breath caught in her throat as the phone rang in her ear.

“Hello?”

The female voice that answered the phone put an instant frown on Bleu's face. “Who is this?” Bleu asked.

“This must be my husband's side chick. Listen, little girl, I'm back in his life now. Your services are no longer needed. Don't call this number again. I'm not the type to blame the other woman. You were only around because Iman allowed you to be around, but all of that is over now. You don't want a problem with me, so let this be your last time calling.”

Hearing Tan's voice ruined Bleu. “Bitch, put Iman on the phone!” Bleu said. She didn't even realize she was shouting until people around her took notice.

“Look, you junkie bitch. Your fifteen minutes are up. Take the hint and beat it.”

Click.

Bleu's heart dropped.
He told her about my rehab. He's back with her. He sent me here so that he could get back with his wife. That's why he hasn't visited. He lied to me,
Bleu thought. The phone fell from her hands and she reached out to balance herself against the wall. The room spun and her chest felt so heavy that it was hard for her to breathe. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Oh my God, oh my God.” This feeling was too strong to mourn silently. She had to let it out. She had to scream. Bleu doubled over gripping her stomach in agony. It was the second time Iman had made a fool of her. The first time when she had discovered he was married and now this. He was killing her slowly, torturing her with his potential to love her. He gave her just enough to get her hooked, then snatched it away repeatedly. It was cruel.
I have to get out of here. I have to see him,
she thought.