Beautiful Liar (14 page)

              “How you get my address?"

              "A 'Hello' would be nice."

              "You look creepy."

              “Creepy?"

              "How you get my address?"

              It was around 8 p.m., and Silas was standing on my doorstep holding sunflowers, wearing burnt orange cargo pants, a navy and white striped polo shirt, and a goofy smile. I dropped the flowers in an empty vase I found in the kitchen cabinet and poured myself a glass of wine. When I got back to the living room, Dominic, who was focused on assembling train tracks, already had Silas skimming through a manual for a train model set that I bought for him earlier.

              “Man, what’s a big burly dude like you doing messing around with trains anyway?” Silas flipped the through manual scratching his head.

              Dominic sighed, exasperated. “Just read step four.”

              “I can’t find step four. This thing is all over the place.”

              Silas passed it to Dominic. “Ay, why are you assembling trains on a Saturday night?”

              I interrupted, "Marley sent you, didn’t she?"

              "Yeah.” Silas looked up from the box the train came in. “She said you said you could use some company. Said something about you having a draining week."

              I was about to send Marley a long text, telling her about herself. But, because Dominic looked like he was enjoying Silas’s company, I cooled down and sipped my Riesling while they built the train.

              Silas nudged Dominic. "It’s Saturday night, man. You should be out with your homeboys."

              Dominic never his took eyes off his model. "If I should be out with homeboys, why aren't you?"

              Silas was stuck on how to respond, and I giggled from my glass.

              About hour and a half later, the neighborhood train model was completed. I smiled as the two of them shook hands and patted each other on the back. Then, I watched as Silas looked at Dominic with confusion as he grabbed a few toys from a wicker chest and scurried upstairs with them under his arms, after I instructed him to take a shower.

              "What? You never met anyone with special needs?" I asked while picking up the plastic and cardboard that been wrapped around the parts to the model.

              Silas stammered, "Yeah... I just didn't know... couldn't tell. Why you let me badger him about it being Saturday and going out?"

              "Dominic can handle his own. He answered your questions didn't he?"

              Silas took the garbage bag I was holding and held it open for me. "What's wrong with him?"

              "Nothing is wrong with him. He's perfect in my eyes. He's my therapist, my diary, and he's a great conversationalist." I tied the garbage bag, and pointed to the closet for Silas to store it in there. "It's just that he grew taller, he got stockier, but his mind never grew past age ten.”

              Silas said, "Wow."

              I nodded slowly.

              “I’m familiar. My uncle owns a few centers for children and teens with those kinds of disorders. I used to help him out in the summer when I was in school.” Silas plopped down in my father’s favorite recliner.  “Dom had me fooled. I wouldn't have known."

              He tapped his fingers along the arm of the chair. "Nice place, by the way. You gonna give me a tour?"

              "No. it's not mine."

              "Are you housesitting?"

              I folded my arms and huffed.

              Silas interpreted my body language. He smiled, and sat up. “I'm not trying to frustrate you, and I’m not trying get all up in your business. I just wanna know you better... and get a glass of water to drink, if that's alright with you. You haven't even offered me any since I been here."

              "You're asking for too much."

              "
Water
is too much?"

              "I'm about to put you out."

              I could hear Silas laughing under his breath as I walked away. After I handed him a tall glass of iced water, I went upstairs to check on Dominic.

              He was already out of the shower and putting on his pajamas, and he was sobbing. I couldn't remember the last time I've seen Dominic cry, that's how uncommon it was. Even when he was overstimulated and frustrated, he didn't cry. My heart pounded through my chest as I cupped his damp face.

              "What happened? Did you hurt yourself?"

              "I can't... I can't" Was all he mustered between sobs.

              "You can't what Dominic? What happened? Did you hurt yourself again?"

              I helped him push his arms through the sleeves of his A|X t-shirt. He had both of his fists clenched tightly.

              "Did Silas hurt your feelings with his questions?"

              Dominic kept his head lowered as he sniffled. "No."

              I sat next to him on his bed, put my arm on his back, and rested my head on his shoulder. "You're making me sad. I wanna make it all better. I wanna make you happy, but you won't tell me what's wrong.
Please
. You'll make me cry, too. Tell me..."

              Dominic resisted.

              I continued to push. I needed him to be okay. I didn’t want him in that dark place again. I needed his smile, his warmth, and his strength. If he was broken, who else could I rest on? "Tell me what's wrong."

              Dominic lowered his head and sobbed harder. My body heat rose, and it felt like fire was beneath my feet as I raced down the stairs and charged Silas. "YOU NEED TO GET THE HELL OUTTA MY HOUSE!"

              Silas jumped to his feet. "What? Why, what I do?"

              I shoved him. "GET OUT!" I screamed to the top of my lungs. "GET THE HELL OUT!"

              He defiantly followed me back upstairs. "No, I'm not leaving. Tell me what I did wrong."

              "I’m calling the police!"

              "What did I do?"

              When I got back in Dominic's room, I slammed the door behind me only to have Silas open it back up.

              "What's wrong with him?"

              I ignored Silas as I tried to get Dominic to stand and follow me to my room since my door had a lock on it. When I grabbed both of his wrist, I noticed that blood was leaking from both of his clenched fist.               “Dominic! Did you…?” I panicked. "Oh my God, he's bleeding!”

              While Silas rushed over to pry open Dominic's hands, I hurried to the bathroom to grab what was left in the first aid kit. By the time I returned, Dominic's hands were open, and a bloody porcelain locomotive that was broken in half was sitting next to him on his bed. While we bandaged him, between tears, Dominic told us that he accidently dropped it.

              "Are you sure that’s exactly what happened?” I looked deep into Dom’s eyes searching for truth.

              He nodded slowly.

              “Then boo, we can get you another one. There's no reason to be sad,” I said tenderly. "I'll go get you another one first thing tomorrow."

              "It's the last one," Dominic said sadly.

              I looked at Silas helplessly.

              "I can get that one fixed," he offered.

              The tears had slowly come to a stop, and the thick fog of somber finally lifted. Silas tucked Dominic in bed while I was in the kitchen cleaning off his train and then packaging it into a Ziploc for Silas to take.

              "So you live with your family."

              I groaned, "Are we back on this?"

              "Why?"

              I snapped back, "Why, what??"

              The frustration I felt about Dominic’s two cuts and not knowing if he had done it purposely, must have taken over me. Before Silas could respond, I let him have it… probably too much.

              "Because I'm a bum! Is that what you want to know? I have no job...
surprise
!!! In fact, I don't know where I'll be living by the end of the year either. I've been black balled by my ex. My savings account is empting, and my parents are tired of financially supporting their healthy grown-behind child who can't seem to get it together.
That’s why
. Now that you know my business, are you satisfied?"

              After a brief silence, Silas simply said, "Wow."

              I leaned against the counter and avoided eye contact with him. "I'm a disgrace and nobody knows..." I motioned to an 11 x 13 family photo that was hanging on the wall. We took it when I was fourteen. Everyone matched with dark hair and big smiles except for me. I was the light-haired girl off to the left who had a slanted smile on her face and wore plaid instead of the hunter green sweater, because my father "accidently" spilled juice on it.

              "
They know
," I said. "My father used to tell me that every single day, from when I was about age eight up until I went to college. ‘You're a disgrace,’ I mocked his tone of voice, and then laughed to mask the pain that still lingered whenever my past was poked and prodded, even after all these years. “When I complained about it, or about anything for that matter, I was told to be a 'Victor not Victim.' Do you see how confusing that is for a child?"

              Silas didn't answer. He just stared at me blankly and rubbed his forehead.

              "You asked,” I said. “You told me you wanted to really know me… there it is. I’m a bum. I’m a disgrace"

              "You're not a disgrace.”

              "… Only when I'm pretending not to be one."

              Tuesday night, I convinced Pastor Ronnie to meet me at this restaurant known for their sesame wings. It was located just a few minutes from his house. He was trying to wrap up some stuff at his church office, but he relented when I kept begging and pleading. I love a man that relents.

              I had already downed two Coronas and was working on my glass of Riesling when Ronnie was approaching the table. He wore a fedora that matched his dark slacks, which hugged him to perfection. With the brim of my glass resting against my Poisoned Pink colored lips, my eyes fell to the print below his waist that appeared and then disappear, and then reappeared as he took each step strolling closer. It was amazing how this man still managed to be centerfold sexy even after being cooped up in the church chambers all day.

              His dimple flashed and his juicy top lip curved as he smiled. "You dragged me here and started without me."

              "It’s been a tricky day. Trust me when I say that I needed it."

              I stood up and tugged on the bottom of my nude bondage dress before I fell into his opened arms. The feel of his body pressed against mine made it hard for me to release him.

              Like the gentleman he was, he helped me back into my side of the booth. "What's up? Rough day?"

              "Very rough," I said. I gulped the last of my wine and wiped the corners of my mouth. "Yesterday my brother returned from a getaway with his boyfriend and came home to find his wife in bed with my masseuse."

              I covered my mouth to belch quietly. "Needless to say, I need a new masseuse and I a need chiropractor. I've been helping her move her things all morning."

              Ronnie took off his fedora, shook his head, and raised his eyebrows, obviously confused. "I'm not even sure I followed you correctly.”

              "Trust me. You heard right.

              "Pray for them."

              "What?”

              "I know it’s the typical, preacher response, but prayer works. Pray for them. We can pray from them right now. Give your hand."

I laughed. "What? No. I’m not talking to God. I’ve been drinking."

              "Give me your hand. It's alright." Ronnie took my hand into his and lowered his head. "Most gracious God, we lift up Nola's brother and his wife, dear God. We ask that you cover them with Your spirit of healing, dear God. We ask that you cover them with Your spirit of forgiveness, dear God. We ask that You untangle them from the hands of the enemy, dear God, and that they will flee from sexual sin and restore their marriage, dear God...."

              As Ronnie continued to plead with God on my brother’s behalf, I looked around to see if anyone was watching us.

              Ronnie said, "Amen!" and lifted his head. I was staring at him as if he had lost his wits." Why are you looking at me like at?" he asked, while sipping his water with lemon.

              “Because you just invited God and His spirit in and - not to disrespect you or Him - I'm slightly inebriated. Not only that, they're playing twerk music over our heads."

              "I got news for you, shorty…”

              Shorty. Mmmm. I like that.

              “He was already up in here. He's everywhere." Ronnie flipped through the menu. "How'd you find this place, anyway?"

              "Reviews from
yelp.com
..."
Using a five-mile radius filter, from your address
.

              After our waiter took our orders, took our menus, and refilled my glass, Ronnie's phone chimed. He lifted it, "Marley."

              "Don't answer it!"

              Ronnie stuffed his phone in his pants pocket. "Why not?"

              "She'll ruin the mood. The vibe. And we're vibing…  Aren't we?"

              "Yeah, as long as I don't burst out into prayer…"

              I reached over the table and playfully slapped Ronnie's arm. "Stop it!"

              His dimple flashed.

              I switched gears. "How have you been holding up? You know… after the break up..."

              Ronnie shrugged and fumbled with a straw wrapper. "What God has for me, He has for me. What He doesn't, He doesn't."

              "But, were you mad... Sad…?"

              The waiter briefly interrupted our conversation to place a big dish of sesame wings in the middle of the table along with a plate of celery and Ronnie's side of steamed zucchini and squash. When she walked away, Ronnie answered my question.

              "I was disappointed, but I'm getting over it.” 

              "Well, I have something to speed up the recovery process." I took a bite of a wing, and then wiped my hands and mouth with the napkins. I reached under our table, and pulled out a large silver gift bag. I sat it on the table and pushed it towards him. "Go ahead and open it!"

              Ronnie dug inside the bag and pulled out a wooden case that contained sterling silver grilling utensils. With that youthful smile that always made me melt, Ronnie read aloud the engravings on each of them. “Grill Master Ronnie… Chef Ronnie Robinson... Phenomenal Cook."

              He neatly put everything back into the gift bag and took my hand. He helped me wiggle outta my seat to stand and give him another hug. "Thank you, Nola. I like ‘em. That was thoughtful."

              I inhaled his scent without any intentions of letting him go. Then my favorite Beyoncé song, "Get Me Bodied" played over the restaurant's speakers. I let go of his hand and clapped. "Mmmm mmm! This is my song, Ronnie!" I swung my hips to the rhythm. "I haven't heard this one in a minute! Dance with me!"

              Ronnie shied away. "No. I'm good. Enjoy."

              "No... No... No… Dance with me! It's clean music. Come on. Dance with me!" I took Ronnie's hand and whirled myself. Then I dipped and swayed my hips. Finally, he got into it with a two-step and seconds later he was grooving.

              The both of us laughed hard as we followed Bey's commands to "do the Uh-oh, pat our weaves, and stop and cool off.” Ronnie cleverly put his masculine spin on the moves and a small crowd formed and cheered us on. By end of the song, my belly was aching, and my cheeks were burning from how hard I laughed. Ronnie really opened up!

              He was sprawled in the booth with his hand on his chest cracking up. "You… You have a way of making me feel young again."

              My phone vibrated the table and without paying attention to the Caller I.D., I answered and pressed my finger in my other ear to hear clearly.

              "Sounds like you're having fun."

              "I am!" I laughed.

              "Where are you?"

              "New Jersey!"

              It finally clicked that I should see who I was talking to before I shared my full whereabouts. When I saw Marley's name, I scurried to the ladies’ room.

              "I didn't get that. What did you say?"

              "I asked what's happening in New Jersey."

              "Wings and beer…"

              Marley pried, "Oh. Who are you with, Silas?"

              I took the phone off my ear and grimaced at it as if she could see. "Yeah. Maybe I am."

              "No... You can't be with Silas. I just saw him at ShopRite…"

              I smacked my thigh. "I'm out with my mother and Dominic. I wanna get back to them. Do you need anything?"

              "I need to run a couple of errands for the wedding tomorrow. Can you come with me? I need your expertise."

              "Yeah... Sure," I replied quickly.

              "I'll be at your place at 8 a.m. We can do bible study and dinner with Greg and Silas after we run errands. “

              "Okay, that's fine," I rushed.

              Marley lingered, "So you don't work?"

              "What? Oh! No, I'm off."

              "OK… Well, 8 a.m."

              I ended the call and checked my head full of loose curls. I reapplied my lipstick and joined Ronnie at the table He. as he was going in on his plate of wings.

              After dinner and my third glass of Riesling, I was wobbly. Ronnie and I walked arm and arm through the parking lot. My heels click-clacked against the asphalt with an occasional slipping sound each time I lost my balance. I giggled and snorted. "This would be a terrible time for someone from church to see us."

              Ronnie said, "Yeah. Tell me about it."

              We stopped at his Lincoln.

              "Listen, I'm gonna drive you home."

              I nodded, "Great idea."

              When he started up the car, the Bluetooth rang through the speakers, and Marley's name flashed on the touch screen. Ronnie immediately declined the call and shook his head. Under his breath, he said, "This would be too tough to explain right now."

              I looked down at his phone resting in the cup holder.
Marley 5 Missed Calls
blinked on its lock screen. Two stoplights down the road, I tapped Ronnie's leg. "I have to pee badly."

              "I'll make this U-turn."

              "You can't," I said. "I have this phobia about using public restrooms."

              Ronnie turned his head to look out his window, and then he looked to the right. "I don't see any woods anywhere. What are we supposed to do?"

              "How about your place?"

              "My place? You gonna make it?"

              I shook my legs. "Yes... Yes, I'll make it. Just go. Hurry."

***

              I slipped off my Jimmy Choo shoes as soon as we walked into Ronnie’s house, and my bare feet scampered along his marbled flooring and into his powder room that was just off to the left of his foyer. After I tinkled, I took a couple of minutes in the mirror to make sure I didn't look as tipsy as I felt. When I opened the door, a trail of brewing dark roast coffee led me to his kitchen.

              Ronnie already had a mug waiting for me on his island. I sat on the barstool and added cream and sugar. "I'm not really a coffee person," I said as I took a sip.

              Ronnie turned from the counter with a mug in his hand and sat on the stool next to mine. "You're a tea person, but tea won't kill that buzz."

              I smirked. "I'm not buzzed."

              Being this close to Ronnie in his home at this hour was exactly what I've been wanting since I first saw him at Worship Way two months ago. I didn't want this moment to end. So, I took slow, tiny sips and asked long, open-ended questions in between. Questions like: how he felt about fasting? Who inspired him to preach? And where were the majority of his college friends located? I asked absolutely anything that had absolutely nothing to do with anything.

              After a while, his cup was completely empty, his answers became short and dry, and he yawned every three minutes, glancing down at his watch. So, I shifted gears to spark some excitement.

              "You're my ideal man."

              "What? Where did that come from?"

              "The tip of my tongue."

              "It's the alcohol."

              "It's sincere."

              “I'm not your type, Nola. A woman like you need a fast paced guy who is young and full of life."

              "You just described yourself. You're young at heart, you're gorgeous, and you know how to have fun."

              "You're stunning yourself," Ronnie replied as his eyes traveled from my lips down to my crossed legs and pedicured toes.

              When his eyes journeyed back up, I locked eyes with him. "I like you. I have a feeling that you're feeling me, too. I like how you love God and how compassionate you are. I even like how you adore Marley. No, actually I love that…" I spoke his to lips "And, I love your style. I love your sense of humor. I love your scent. And I love your smile…"

              Ronnie leaned in and his scent wrapped itself around my body. He kissed just the corner of my lips, and quickly stood and put his mug down on the counter.

              "Don't say anything else," he commanded, looking only at my sinister grin. "I tasted Riesling on your lips."

              I laughed to myself.

              "It's late. If you want to stay, I can take you to your car in the morning. I have a t-shirt you can sleep in..."

              I suppressed my smile, and tried my best to hide the excitement that was building up inside of me. All I could think was, “
Yeah. He wants me.”