If You Don't Know Me (14 page)

A
s I parked in front of Helen's house, the digital on my dash displayed 7:50.

Roosevelt's car wasn't in the circular driveway as I'd hoped. Maybe he was in transit. Perhaps not. What difference would it make if he came?

Chaz just told me, “He's moving Madison out of his house.” That meant my suspicions were accurate. He hadn't come to Eddie V's and he wasn't coming to his mom's because he was with them.

I can't fucking believe he's back with that trifling bitch and he wasn't man enough to tell me!
That was his prerogative but I had the right to know he'd moved on. Selfish, inconsiderate adulterer. Regardless of what I'd done, I wasn't a fornicator. What I was, was glad I hadn't given my virginity to him. I didn't wait this long to have regrets.

The main thing I required was respect. He'd opened his mouth to perform cunnilingus but he couldn't tell me the truth. Wow. Maybe he thought not saying anything was respectful. Or was he still waiting for an opportune time to explain his decision? Or did he believe he'd move her out before I'd find out?

I'd bet if I never mentioned I knew, he'd never tell me.
Sindy you know his intentions were to keep you as option number two in case things didn't work out with Madison.
As long as that baby had Roosevelt's last name, I couldn't compete with a kid.

Exhaling, I had to regroup before getting out of my car. I didn't like using profanity but some men could make me outswear a sailor. My lawyer colleagues believed obscenity was for those with a limited vocabulary. I felt communication was primary. Long as I understood, word choice was just that. Sometimes a woman had to curse in order to be heard. I could use a shot of scotch instead of that tea Helen probably had brewing. Liquor would intensify my mood. Although I wanted one, I didn't need a cocktail.

I doubted Roosevelt was on his way anywhere by himself. Madison probably didn't let him go too far without activating a tracking device on his phone or dragging that baby along with them.

I stared into the rearview mirror. I had to admit, out loud, “I love that man.” If I didn't, I wouldn't be sitting outside his mother's house.

The sadness in my eyes resembled Roosevelt's in the photo my girlfriend had sent. He missed me. I felt it. I touched up my lipstick, swept my hair behind my back. Not wanting Mrs. DuBois judging my partially provocative attire, I raised my blouse to cover my shoulders. Seasoned Southern women were slow to teach young girls how to be ladies but quick to judge how females presented themselves.

Holding my cell, I wanted to call him.
Forget about him
. My pride decided not to dial his number. I dropped my phone in my purse.

The door opened exactly at eight. Helen motioned for me to come in.

Slowly, I got out of my car and closed the door. Forcing a smile, I walked toward her.

She glanced from my face, to my feet, and back to my face. “Lovely shoes, dear.”

“Thanks,” I said, not sure if Helen's compliment was genuine.

“How are you?” she asked closing her front door behind us.

How the fuck you think I'm doing?
“I'm doing well and you?” I replied scanning her head to toe.

She glanced at me. “Hm. You don't look well to me but if you say so. Come, dear.” She led the way

Then why in the hell did you ask?
The blue tapered short-sleeved dress stopped above her knees. A thin strand of pearls circled her neck. Diamonds decorated her ears. Her wedding ring sparkled with clarity. Her red two-inch slingbacks were soft leather. Her thick pepper and gray strands were permed to perfection. The silky edges framed her face. Her hair, tucked behind one ear, curved at the nape of her neck.

Entering the family room, I admired the photo above the mantel. The innocence in Roosevelt's eyes beamed full of happiness. He was probably one of those boys who craved approval for doing what was honorable. Why else would he have taken Madison back?

Redirecting my focus to Helen, I answered, “Outside of missing your son, I am doing well.” Did she honestly care about my feelings?

“Good. That's what I was hoping to hear. That means you haven't lost interest in him. Sit next to me.” Balancing her rear end on the edge of the sofa she fluffed a decorative pillow. She filled two small porcelain cups with hot tea, then handed me one.

Repositioning the pillow behind my back, I inched away from her. There was space for a third person to comfortably sit between us. Already emotional, I didn't want to be close enough to cry in her arms.

Her pinky finger straightened, then curled. “That's fine,” she said sipping her tea. “I'll get right to it, dear. I want to know what you had in mind about getting rid of Madison.”

Was she interested in helping me or herself? Staring into my cup, I shook my head. “I've let that go. I'm moving on. Roosevelt wants Madison and he has the right to be with her.”

It was best I hadn't had sex with Roosevelt. Maybe his good dick was what Madison was holding on to.

“Moving denotes movement, dear. My son does not want her. He's told me he asked her to leave but she won't get out of his house.”

I thought for a moment, then softly said, “Why did he move her in?” I paused wondering what she expected me to do about that situation.

“He didn't. He told her they needed to talk and next thing he knew she showed up at his place with that baby. He couldn't leave her and that baby sitting in the lobby of his building while he was at the airport. That would've been all over social media. Besides, I reared him to be respectful. He had no idea she had their belongings with her.”

Respectful? Or had she handicapped her son like a lot of mothers? The number of African-American youth being incarcerated was alarming but the moms who defended them were in denial.

I held in my laughter. Madison was willing to look pathetic to keep her husband. No man honored pity. Okay, now his erratic behavior appeared logical. Maybe I'd view this differently, if I hadn't kept cutting him off when he tried to explain.

“I love your son but I'm sure you didn't chase Mr. DuBois for his hand in marriage.”

Elongating her spine, Helen raised her shoulders a few inches. “And you are correct. However, relationships were different when I was younger. Women didn't treat men as though they were children and men didn't act like little boys. I knew Martin was the one for me and he knew it too,” she confidently said.

Not wanting to cut her off, I'd waited until she completed her sentence, then asked, “Why should Roosevelt be my concern?”

“Dear, I didn't ask you here for a debate. She's got to go. Answer my question.”

“I don't want to get involved.”

“Too late for your wants, dear.”

Damn, she should've been an attorney. Exhaling, she was right. There was an element in love that didn't consider wants, needs, or desires. Love was rational, irrational, exhilarating, terrifying, and unpredictable at the same time.

My heart and head were out of sync. Eventually I'd get over Roosevelt. But I couldn't live my life wondering if the next woman would take my next man. Even if I didn't win back Roosevelt I was going to take the trophy away from Madison and beat her over her head with it. She wasn't that smart. Plotting against Madison would give me satisfaction and entertainment. I remained silent.

“Fine. Then tell me the details and I'll handle it,” Helen said.

If I were right, everyone except Madison would be happy. If I were wrong, I could lose Roosevelt forever.

“Out with it, dear,” Helen said. “Why did you want me to get that baby?”

“I suspect that Granville Washington is the biological father.”

“Suspect? When there's documented proof he's a DuBois? Nonsense.”

“Documentation can be altered. I wanted you to get the baby so we can have Granville take a paternity test.”

Helen crossed her arms and legs. “This is absurd. I love that baby.”

I placed my cup on the silver tray, then stood. “Then let's just let things remain.”

Firmly, she held my wrist. “Please, sit. That Loretta girl told me it was Granville's baby but you can't believe a word that comes out of her mouth. She'd say anything to get my son. She's nothing but trouble. Loretta is in love with Chicago too you know.”

Instantly, my eyes scrolled upward. “Is any woman good enough for your son?”

“You tell me, dear,” she answered, then stared at me.

I refused to respond. Woman to woman I did not have anything to prove to her. If she believed she'd done an exemplary job of parenting her boys, why did Roosevelt marry Madison? I was beginning to observe the manipulative similarities between Madison and Mrs. DuBois.

“Well, I'm sure I can get my grandchild from my son but what good will your plan do when the results come back the same?”

“Trust me. They won't.”

Helen raised a brow. “How will you get Granville to agree to taking a test?”

“My father knows him.”

“Really?” she said dragging the word out.

“No, he was not involved in the shooting.”

Her eyes darted to the side then back toward me. She folded her arms under her breasts. “Did I ask you that?”

I stood, then picked up my purse. “I have nothing to prove to you. If you want my help, you have my number.”

Following me to the door, Helen said, “I certainly do, dear.”

When the door opened, I almost bumped into Madison and the baby. I stepped back into the foyer. I stared at Helen. She didn't look in my direction. She had to have known they were coming.

She reached for Zach. “Come to grandma.” Briefly our eyes met. She smiled, winked at me, then held the baby in her arms.

The baby's eyes, nose, and lips resembled the DuBoises'. Zach's head looked a little like Granville but most babies had big heads.

Sarcastically, Madison said, “Hello, Sindy,” then asked, “What are you doing here?”

Helen replied, “Madison, this is my house. Your house, where you should be living, is on the outskirts of River Oaks, dear. Remember?”

Helen's comment should have provided me relief as she referred to the location of Madison's place, not Roosevelt's. It didn't. River Oaks folks like us did have an added touch of arrogance. I gasped when I saw him. I felt trapped. Madison stood next to Roosevelt blocking the doorway.

I glanced at Roosevelt then quickly stared at my shoes.

“Hello, Sindy,” he said in the saddest, yet sexiest, tone.

My heart tightened as I struggled to force back my tears. I looked at his pants. Slowly my eyes moved up to his knees, his thighs, his hips, his stomach, his chest, his shoulders, his neck, his chin, his lips, his nose. Reluctantly, I gazed into his eyes.

Anger dictated my reflexes. Before I'd do the same to Madison, I parted the two of them then marched toward my car.

“Oh, no you didn't hit my husband,” Madison said following me.

My husband? The husband who was feasting on this good pussy?

I stopped. Turned to face her. I'd never had a fight but I had mastered self-defense. “Don't let the dazzling stilettos mislead your steps.” I was so full of anger, if I had hit her, I would've zoned out. Neither Roosevelt nor his mother could've pried me off of her.

Why did I hate Madison when Roosevelt was the one who'd hurt me?

Helen said, “Madison, bring your narrow ass in here.”

I kept walking, then I heard the front door close.

Soon as I slammed my car door, a flood of tears gushed into my palms. I couldn't stop crying.

“Sindy, can we talk?” Roosevelt asked standing by my window.

Why did I have to meet him? My life was drama-free before Roosevelt. I couldn't stop the flow. I didn't want to see his face or have him see mine.

I yelled into my palms, “Leave me alone!”

Calmly, he said, “Sindy. Please.”

Lowering my window half of an inch, I said, “Please what? Let you explain why you didn't have the decency to give me closure?”

“Yes.”

Would his version match Helen's?

“What good is talking going to do? If you really wanted to talk, you would've called me. If I hadn't run into you tonight . . .” Uncontrollably, more tears poured. I raised my window. Regardless of what he would've said, when he was done he was going into his mother's house and he was going to be in there with Madison and Zach, not me.

“Sindy. I'm begging you. Let me explain.”

Drying my tears, I started my engine and drove off. I wasn't in the mood or right mind to hear what Roosevelt wanted to say. I'd probably shoot my father, if I went to his house. What had he done to our mother? “I hate men!”

That wasn't true. But in the moment, that was exactly how I felt.

Instead of going home, I pulled over and dialed his number.

“Hey, Sindy.”

If one more person said my name without enthusiasm, I'd scream. “Hey, Dad. I'm not coming over. After Granville is released tomorrow, the three of us need to meet.”

“About—”

“Stop it! Stop it! Make sure Granville is at your house. I'll see the both of you tomorrow, Dad. Good-bye!”

I'd do all I could to keep my father from having Granville kill Roosevelt but I was not leaving my country for two men who didn't give a damn about me.