Life Is A Foreign Language (31 page)

Nina sat quiet. Without touching him she spoke at length in a low distinct voice. “Marley. I’m Nina Brochard, Michael’s friend. We met a few days ago.”

His only reaction was an audible intake of breath.

“Michael asked me to visit with you. Do you want to talk to me?”

His only acknowledgement was to grope with one hand in his lap for his knit cap. He planted it on his dreadlocks.

“Apparently you’ve read a lot about Jamaica.” She waited a moment for a word or a sign from him. When he remained still she continued. “I’ve been to Jamaica, to Ocho Rios.”

Pause.

“It’s a wonderful country—the ocean and high mountains to climb.”

Pause.

“The people are very kind and friendly, always smiling.”

Pause. She sipped her drink.

“Bob Marley’s presence is felt all over; everyone plays his reggae music.”

A longer pause.

“Would you like to go there some day, Marley?”

He covered his head with his hands. Then his head came up and he pulled the cap over his face. “You Mon’s woman. I remember.”

“Yes I’m Michael’s woman. I’m glad you remember.”

Slowly, he removed the cap from his face and stared at her with his dark eyes, a bottomless sadness in them.

She caught her breath. “I can see you’re very sad. Your eyes are filled with tears.” She drew half-moons under her own eyes. “I can see them here.”

He shook his head. “No. Marley big mon now. Mons don’t cry.”

“Wrong, Marley. Grownup men cry. I think you’re afraid that you can’t stop if you give in and cry.” She had come this far sooner than she dared hope and didn’t want to risk losing him now. She waited.

Slowly he nodded, a movement so subtle she almost missed it. “Uh-huh.”

Again she waited, wanting to touch him, but didn’t for fear that contact would scare him. She had to be patient, take her cues from him.

He remained still, hand on head, eyes on her face.

“I’ve been sad, very sad,” she said in a low voice. “And I’ve cried. It’s so hard to cry alone, isn’t it? That’s when you feel really lonely.”

A faint whisper. “Yeah.”

Careful, careful.
If he turned away from her now, locked himself away, he would suffer again. “Do you want me to help you cry? I will, but only if you let me.”

When she thought she hadn’t been able to break down his defenses, when she thought he wasn’t ready to open the door to his prison, it happened—he held out his hand to her. She reached to take it, but instead of his hand she had the entire boy in her arms. He groaned a deep guttural sound of distress and pain, and threw himself at her.

She enfolded him in her arms, holding him, rocking him slowly back and forth. With his face mashed against hers he cried, long soul-wrenching sobs, moaning and mumbling words she didn’t understand. He clung to her, writhed in her arms, clutching her shoulders. She pressed him to her, stroking his hair, his neck, caressing circles on his back. She crooned to him, whispering. “Let it out, Marley. Let the tears come. Cry all you want.”

Later there would be time for talking. For now, the present moment was all that counted. She was there to receive his distress, knowing this was but a little crack in the armor, a beginning. But for Marley it was a big step.

Like a tropical storm, Marley’s outburst was violent and short. His sobs subsided, turned to an occasional hiccup. He sniffled. Rubbing his face with both hands, sat up and took the tissues she handed him. He peered at her, shy and fearful.

Glancing at her watch, Nina was astounded that she had spent a full hour with him. It didn’t seem nearly that long—more like a heartbeat.

She patted his hand. “You did well, Marley. I’m proud of you. It takes courage to show your pain.”

“Mon? What will Mon say?”

“Michael would be proud of you, but he doesn’t have to know. It’s up to you to tell him. This is between you and me, if that’s what you want.”

“You promise not to tell, M’am Nina?”

She made her voice firm. “I promise.” She stood and took the wad of tissue from his hand and wiped his face where he’d missed some wetness. Straightening his dreadlocks the best she could, she placed the cap on his head. From the pitcher on Michael’s desk she poured a plastic cup of water for him and another for herself.

Marley drank greedily and held out his cup. “More, please, M’am Nina.”

“Call me Nina,” knowing he wouldn’t. “Michael thinks I could help you. If you want, we could meet once a week and talk about things. Would you like to give it a try? We could start next week.”

“That be good, yes. Next week? What day?”

She made a mental check of her agenda. “How about Tuesday, at three?”

“Yes, good.” He glanced at her from under his brow. “Where?”

“Here, Marley. At the clinic.”

He nodded his agreement. Then he took a few steps closer to her and put the palm of his hand on her chest over her heart, the way he did the first time they met. Following his lead, she pressed her hand against his heart as well.

He beamed a smile. The room grew brighter.

Chapter 36
 

With Marley following, Nina entered the reception. Wanda turned from the stack of files she was sorting. “There you are. You were gone so long I was going to come looking for you in a few minutes.”

Nina nodded, smiling. “Yes, time just flew by.”

Wanda glanced at Marley. “Hi, how you doin’?”

He gave her one of his wide smiles. “Fine now. M’am Nina helps good.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Nina glanced at him, wanting to make sure he wasn’t planning to run away . not for now at least. “Are you going straight home?”

“No, first to Blockbuster’s, then home.”

Marley stood close to Nina, hand on her arm and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “On Tuesday, huh?”

“Yes, Marley.”

And he was gone.

Wanda’s mouth was hanging open. “I can’t believe it. The transformation you brought about in one hour is remarkable. You’re a miracle worker.”

Nina shook her head. “Nonsense. Some intuition and the luck to be there at the right time. There’s plenty of work ahead of us.” She delved in her handbag for the car keys, but found them in the pocket of her dress. “As you heard, I’ll be here next Tuesday to see Marley. Michael may need his office, but I’m sure we can find a pigeonhole somewhere that’s private. “Dropping the ball of tissue she still clutched in her fist in a waste basket, she headed for the door and waved. “Bye, Wanda.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Oh, of course—the Festival.”

Opening the door, Nina was hit by the sweltering air. The sky was still overcast, but the threatening storm seemed to have moved on. In the car, she held the hot steering wheel with her fingertips, the seat burning through her clothes.

Approaching her house, Nina saw Michael’s car parked in her driveway. He’d left ample space on the side so she could drive into the garage. She opened the connecting door to the den and called, “Hi, I’m home. Anybody here.”

No answer.

Then she saw him on the lanai in the shade of the overhanging roof, stretched out on one of the lounge chairs, eyes closed, asleep. This had been a busy day for him—the morning at the clinic, last minute details at the country club for the Festival, Cindy’s dentist appointment.

Not wanting to wake him, Nina stole into the garage to get her dress. Like a young girl preparing for her first date, she smuggled it inside and hung it in the guestroom closet where Michael wouldn’t see it. For the second time she showered and put on a long T-shirt. In the kitchen she prepared a tray with a beer mug for Michael, and ice tea for herself. On the lanai he hadn’t changed position. She settled on the couch in the den to look at the paper, but got no further than checking the weather report for the next day—sunny, temperatures in the low nineties, gusty wind—when Michael leaned over her, sleep still in his eyes, hair tussled and damp from the heat; he looked lovable.

He sat next to her and enfolded her in his arms, holding her close, planting kisses all over her face and throat. He cupped the back of her head in his hand and, finding her mouth, kissed her softly, then not so softly.

And she clung to him, safe in his arms, happy he was there.

“Nina, my Nina, I’m sorry I stood you up for lunch.”

She held his face between her hands, gazing at him. “Oh Michael.”

“I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart.”

“I was a bit disappointed, but I’ll live. There’ll be other times.” She gazed into his eyes. “How was your day? How are the roses?”

He chuckled. “Questions, questions. Everything’s fine. The roses look great. I’m great.” He kissed her again. “Did you see Marley? Would he talk to you?”

“Not in the beginning, he didn’t. Then we had a little breakthrough, a secret between Marley and me. Client-therapist privileged info. I promised him I wouldn’t say anything. If you want to know specifics, you have to ask Marley.”

“I only want to know that he’s all right.” He cocked his head to the side and looked at her inquisitively. “Apparently so.”

“You know he’s far from well. But right now he’s better.” She rubbed the tip of her nose against his.

The ringing of the phone was loud. Usually it rang at inopportune times. Now she welcomed the interruption, glad to end this conversation. She felt ill at ease talking about clients in general. Marley in particular was a touchy subject because Michael was so close to the boy. If she cast Michael in the role of the father, she’d get the right perspective, keep the proper balance. As she answered the phone on the third ring, Michael settled on the love seat with the newspaper she’d been reading.

“Hello,” she said into the handset, making herself comfortable in the couch corner.

“Mami, how are you?”

“Oh Danny, I’m so pleased to hear you. I’m fine. How’re you doing?” Glancing at Michael, she spoke in English for his benefit. Both Lillian and Danny were perfectly bilingual, she’d made sure of that from early on.

They talked. Danny and Nina always communicated, not merely exchanging trivialities.

And Danny dropped his little bomb. “I bought a motor bike.” “Oh.”

“Is that all you can say, ‘Oh’?”

“I’m waiting to hear more about it.”

He talked about the advantages of a sports bike over a tourist model, horsepower and cylinders, max speed and other technicalities, most of the details over her head. He spoke fast, words tumbling out, repeating that the machine was a technical wonder, his voice slightly hoarse with excitement.

“You sound so pleased. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I knew I could count on you not to worry.”

Nina never worried about Danny. Years ago she had understood fear couldn’t keep her children safe, so she conditioned herself not to dwell on all the “what ifs.”

“I don’t think I’m gossiping if I tell you Lillian had a fight with Papa.” Danny cleared his throat. “Have you talked to her?”

She stood from the couch. “Not for a few days. I’m sorry they argued.”

“We were at Lillian’s for dinner, Papa and I. She accused him of being disloyal to you. Said he had no respect for his children, replacing their mother with this bimbo. Papa was blunt about it, told her to mind her own business. Lillian got furious and started screaming. You know how she gets when she’s upset. The twins were crying. Jean-Luc left the table, taking the them with him, and there we sat, the three Brochards, behaving like skid-row bums.”

While listening to him, Nina wandered across the room, stopped in front of the lanai door, gazing outside without registering what she saw. “Danny, I’m sorry. When last I spoke to Lillian she was worked up about Papa’s lady friend. I tried to calm her, suggested that she talk to him. How did it end? Did they make up?”

“No, Papa called her an anal-retentive spoiled brat, who was born with a silver spoon in each hand. Then he grabbed his coat and stormed out, his lady friend following. I’ve never seen him so angry.”

Danny’s voice shook, the words were torn from him, so different from his usual detached speech. “Will you talk to Lillian, Mami?”

Thoughts raced through her mind, the answer obvious when it came to her. She couldn’t get involved in their fight. Much as she loved her children, there was nothing she could do about their problems.

“What a terrible thing for Papa to say to his own daughter. But no, Danny, I won’t talk to her about this. It wouldn’t help her. Lillian’s very temperamental, flies off the handle at the slightest provocation. She has to sort out the rift between her and Papa on her own.”

“Hmm, you could be right. What can I do?”

“Make sure you know where you stand. Try not to take sides. The argument is between Papa and Lillian—you and I would be wise to stay out of it.”

“I guess so.” The line was silent. “I’m sorry I’ve unloaded on you, didn’t even ask how things are with you. Are you all right?”

“I’m doing fine. My novel is just about finished. I’m planning to do some voluntary work part time, and the twins will visit after school’s out.” She glanced at Michael reading, long legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles. As if he sensed her look, he met her eyes and smiled as she returned to sit in the couch corner.

“I’ve been invited to function as Godmother for a winning rose at a festival.” She also mentioned that she was taking guidance from a spiritual counselor. “And I attend meditation meetings once a week.”

“Good for you, Mami. You keep busy doing interesting things.” He was silent. “Have you met any nice people?”

Nina knew what he wanted to ask and thought about the answer. “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything yet. I wanted to let you get used to the idea that you’re parents have divorced. But I’ve met a very nice man. His name is Michael Hamilton, and he’s right here next to me, wearing a huge smile.”

Michael mouthed something.

“Just a minute, Danny.” To Michael. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“Give my regards to Danny.”

She spoke into the receiver. “Did you hear that, Danny? Michael sends regards.”

“Thanks. Is he good to you? Are you happy?”

“Yes, cheri, he is, and I’m very happy.” She thought for an instant, the question burning on her tongue. “You’re not shocked that I’m involved with another man? So soon after I left Papa, I mean?”