Red Hats (18 page)

“This is Dr. Winters. I’m calling to invite you to our first group-therapy session, this Saturday at nine o’clock. I suggest you get here a half hour earlier so we can have a brief discussion beforehand and I can lay out some guidelines to help you manage your emotions in the room.”

“Why do I have to manage my emotions? This is about his addiction.”

“It’s about healing, Alma. Sometimes we have to dig deep to get to the root of his pain. I hope you bring an open heart and a calm mind, because that will speed up his recovery,” Dr. Winters cautioned.

As soon as Alma hung up the phone, apprehension set in. Had she gotten the phone call a year ago, she would have let herself wallow in disappointment and fear. But she knew that as much as she dreaded being exposed to this stranger, opening herself up to others could bring blessings—like having a good man who reciprocated her love, having friends who wore red hats and purple dresses, and possibly having her son back. That was worth any emotional roller-coaster ride she had to endure.

“I felt like garbage my
whole life. Do you have any idea what I had to go through, with all the neighborhood kids teasing me constantly about being a little bastard? I wanted to run away and die, but I was afraid that neither one of you would miss me,” Jesse said through bitter tears.

Alma sat across from him with her eyes squinting as she relived her infidelity and the gross smell of Seymour’s hot, liquored breath in her nostrils.

“My mother’s a ho, my father was a coward . . . and I’m a crackhead! What did you expect me to be? This is what you get when you don’t have parents who love you.”

Fed up with his disrespect, Alma reached across the coffee table and slapped Jesse in the mouth.

“Do not talk to me like that again!” she screamed. “Don’t you ever question my love for you, boy.” Alma stood to pace. “Do you have any idea of the sacrifices we made for you? Who do you think changed your diapers? Took you to school? Bought your clothes? Nursed you when you were sick, ran your baths, made your meals, told you bedtime stories, and combed your nappy hair? That takes a love and commitment that only two loving parents can give. If you want to be mad at me, I will live with that, Jesse, but I will not let you talk bad about a man who is not here to defend himself. Harold loved you! And even though you’ve tested me beyond my limits, I still love you.” She stormed out of the room.

Too angry and sad to cry and too hurt and numb to move, Alma stood in the corridor by the elevators, watching people exit the steel boxes. A young man still standing inside one held open the closing door for her.

“Miss, are you getting on?”

Alma didn’t respond, so he let the door shut, muttering his disapproval of her silence. A moment later, Dr. Winters approached her from behind.

“I know it doesn’t feel this way, but that was a major breakthrough for him. Jesse is angry with a lot of things. If you give him time, I’m sure he will get through the resentment and see that you were a loving and kind mother.”

“I should have never come here.”

“You have to come back inside, Alma.”

“For what? He hates me. The best thing I can do for Jesse is to leave him alone.”

James stood in
his doorway, scratching his head with a perplexed look on his face as Alma shoved the engagement ring into his hand.

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry,” she said.

“Hold on, Alma. Come in here, and let’s talk about this. After all, my life is affected by your decision, too.” He gently reached for her hand and escorted her into his place.

Even in her irrational frame of mind, Alma subconsciously noticed that the large oil painting of his ex-wife was covered by a cloth on its perch above the fireplace.

“Now, tell me why the sudden change of heart.”

“You don’t want to marry me, James.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t. I’m not a good woman. I will hurt you.”

“I don’t believe that. I just think you are stressed out from the wedding planning. If you want me to help out with the arrangements, I’ll roll up my sleeves and get involved.”

“It’s not that at all. I was having a ball planning the festivities. It would have been beautiful.”

“You mean it
will
be beautiful. I’m not letting you go that easy, Alma. Now, I want you to exhale and just tell me what’s on your mind. Maybe I can help you solve whatever is troubling your sweet heart.”

“This heart of mine is not sweet. You have no clue what you’re getting into, James!”

“Well, why don’t you tell me everything you think I should know and then let
me
decide if I want or need to retreat? Just tell, don’t edit,” he warned.

James listened intently as Alma told him the dark things of her past. Everything about her and Harold, her pregnancy out of wedlock, the shame it brought upon her parents. The distance it caused in her relationship with her mother and how she never even tried to fix it. Her hatred for her father. She told James about Harold’s infidelity and the years she spent trying to get revenge on him for sleeping with her best friend. How after her affair, she’d contemplated an abortion and how even after giving birth, she had a hard time accepting Jesse as her son, because he was a constant reminder of her sins. The immense guilt that burdened her every step, remembering all the years of hurtful things she used to say to her unfaithful husband in front of her innocent son. And that the fear of repeating the cycle of dysfunction with James was too much to bear. James held her hand and listened without judging or interrupting. When she finished her monologue, she waited for his response.

“So?”

“So, now I love you even more,” he said. “The fact that you can articulate your past mistakes so well means you have given things a lot of thought and truly have regrets,
which means you are determined not to repeat that course. Your problem has a simple solution. A painful one, but if you do it right, you can bring closure to many of these things that haunt you.”

“What is the simple solution you’re talking about?”

“Saying you’re sorry to someone is different from letting someone feel that you are sorry. That takes prayerful meditation and a heartfelt conversation. Your son got caught in an emotional shoot-out. He didn’t ask to be born into that situation, but he was. If I were Jesse, I’d want you to take responsibility for your actions and reassure me that you will rededicate yourself to being the mother I know you can be. Most men don’t like to live in the past, but if they don’t resolve those past issues, they can’t see their future.”

“I don’t know, James. I still think we should put the wedding off.”

“If we do that, what am I going to do with this?” He made his way over to the covered painting and removed the veil.

“Oh, my God in heaven,” Alma whispered, seeing an oil painting of James on one knee proposing to her, with the sun setting in the background and the river’s water reflecting the skyline. “It’s beautiful,” she said, hugging him tightly.

“That is the woman I see when I look at you. Lovable, vulnerable, and beautiful.”

“I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s going to be OK. Trust me, everything will work out fine. I promise,” he said, kissing her neck tenderly.

Alma rehearsed the
speech in her head as she walked toward the June Retreat entrance. She turned to get a look of encouragement from James, who remained seated in the rented town car in the parking lot. He winked and blew a kiss. Alma shifted the package she carried into the other hand, then returned the gesture as the electric doors whooshed open in front of her. Dr. Winters was there to meet Alma at the reception desk.

“Don’t worry, I will be right there if things get out of hand,” Dr. Winters said.

“I need to do this alone.”

“Are you sure?”

“He’s my son, and I don’t think it helps either of us to have a referee in the room.”

“Last time you were here, you had serious reservations about confronting your fears. If you don’t mind my asking, how will you overcome that?”

“He’s my son. I’m simply going to speak to his heart, with mine.”

Alma inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, as she eased open the door that led to the cave of confrontation. Jesse stood with his back to her, staring out the windows overlooking the gardens. His skin had returned to its normal
color, and it was obvious that he’d finally gotten back to bathing regularly.

“Hello, son.”

“Hey,” he replied without turning to see her.

Alma set the package down on the couch next to her and waited for him to turn around. “Aren’t you going to sit with me?”

“I’d rather stand. It’s a better view out here,” he said, stabbing her with his bitter tone.

“Jesse, I never meant to hurt you. What happened between your father—Harold and me wasn’t about you. It was just two people not knowing how to communicate or love each other correctly.”

“Humph,” Jesse replied.

“OK, maybe it was about you—at least, it became about you. I was young and dumb, with no idea of how to manage my emotions. I was angry with Harold for making me cross the line of who I was or thought I was as a woman. I compromised my own morals and the value I placed on the institution of marriage by laying with Seymour—whom I hated—just to get back at the man I loved. I was wrong. I don’t expect you to forgive me, son. I only pray that you’ll try to understand me. People make mistakes, and the biggest mistake I made was not putting aside my anger. I saw how special you were as a baby. Do you know that you walked before Todd and Angel? Anything you wanted to do, you just did it, including playing
that trumpet. I don’t even know where you got that thing from.”

“Seymour gave it to me.”

“No wonder I hated it so much. Whatever happened to it?”

“I owed a guy some money, and he beat me up and took it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said.

“Not as sorry as I am.”

Jesse turned to face his mother with the coldness of an enemy. His eyes squinted just as hers did when she disapproved of something or someone.

“Why are we talking about my trumpet?” he asked.

“I was walking around today, trying to figure out what I was going to say to you, and I just couldn’t for the life of me find the right words. That’s because there are no words that can erase the pain I caused you. I know that. I have to own that for the rest of my life. I actually stopped in the middle of the street with tears in my eyes and begged God to help me reach your heart. I said, ‘Show me a sign, God.’ And then something shiny caught my eye, and I turned to see this.” She handed him the package off the couch.

“What is it?”

“Open it,” she said. “It’s a gesture.”

Jesse hesitated, then took the shopping bag, lifted the red velvet satchel out of it, and opened the drawstring to reveal a brand-new trumpet. It was brushed gold in color, and the look on Jesse’s face said it was special.

“Wow! This is a Zeus Olympus made by Dave Monette! Only the best of the best play one of these babies.”

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“I love it.”

Alma smiled and handed him the mouthpiece she had in a small custom-made box, which looked like a tiny coffin with a red silk lining. “Why don’t you play something for me?”

“You hate the way I play.”

“I never really heard you play. It would mean a lot to me if you did.”

Jesse turned down his glare and slowly attached the mouthpiece to the horn. He stood by the window, with the sun shining behind him casting a backlight that gave him a silhouette. He played his heart out as Alma closed her eyes and swayed to his rendition of Miles Davis’s “So What.”

The music played
softly as the guests stood at their seats on the lawn, facing the flowered gazebo overlooking the marina at the Montauk Yacht Club. It was a seventy-two-degree sunny day in spring when Alma glided down the aisle toward James, who wore a pale gray suit with black lapels that matched his shoes and belt. The tie was a darker shade of gray and sat nicely against his blush-pink shirt. A red pocket square matched the ones worn by the groomsmen lined up beside him. Alma wore a three-quarter-sleeved, empire-waisted, floor-length ivory wedding gown with
a modest reverse neckline fastened with five large pearl-shaped buttons, lovingly done by Freda Minx, complete with a short-sweep train that moved fluidly with her every step. The look of a queen.

Through her matching lace and beaded veil, she kept eye contact with James as she clutched her bouquet of red roses and walked through a sea of Red Hats toward her future lover, husband, and best friend. They exchanged their vows before Todd, Angel, and Jesse through smiles and tears, confessing love and gratitude to God and each other for the happy times now and to come.

“Hear, hear,” Dee said, tapping her champagne glass at the head of the reception table. “Today I witnessed what most little girls dream of from the time they are old enough to fantasize about finding their Prince Charming and riding off into the sunset to live happily ever after. I hope that dream comes true for Alma and James. I pray that you always keep a piece of this beautiful day with you, so that when times get difficult, you can look back and smile, remembering all the love that was shared today. May God bless you and your marriage through eternity.” She raised her glass and sipped in unison with the family and guests.

“Thank you,” Alma said, mouthing the words under the applause from across the table.

Alma lifted the
window shade on the plane to peek out at the sun, which shone so brightly the heat warmed her face.
The champagne she sipped in her first-class seat eased her nerves. The bubbly had flowed from the moment she was seated. Suddenly, the 767 hit an air pocket. James instantly stuck his hand out for her. He gave Alma a reassuring smile as she grabbed hold of his strong hand.
This isn’t so bad
, she thought.

Two hours later, they were checking into their presidential suite at the Paradise Cove. When the bellman opened the door, Alma saw red rose petals laid out on the floor leading to a magnificent super-king-sized bedroom with an ocean view, so close and beautiful you could taste the water as the waves crashed against the rocks below. James took a hot shower in the second bathroom as Alma enjoyed a bubble bath in the master suite. They nervously met between the sheets with only two chocolate strawberries as foreplay. They fed each other, then allowed their lust to be the dessert.