Show and Tell (36 page)
His oversized sports jersey hung down to his thighs, yet his pants rode so low, the crotch was at his knees. A pimple reddened the tip of his nose.
“Do you got any change I can bum for a pack of smokes?”
Despite the whiskers on his chin, she was sure he wasn’t eighteen. His cohorts hung back by the newspaper stand waiting to see if he scored.
Dragging in a breath, she held it a moment, gazing at him. He wasn’t a scary gang kid, just a slightly unkempt normal kid. She didn’t feel threatened, as if he and his friends might jump her like a pack of hyenas. But he was too young to smoke.
She, however, didn’t have the right to judge what anyone else did. She exhaled in a
whoosh
. “I was going to say that smoking is bad for you.” She sighed. “But you look like a smart kid, so I figure you know that.” Nodding her head, she indicated his gaggle of friends. “I also figure you want the cigarettes so you can impress your buddies, but I’m pretty sure they all smoke to impress, too, so what’s the point? And if I had any cash, I’d keep it instead of giving it to you, because as an adult, I shouldn’t be encouraging you to smoke.”
whoosh
. “I was going to say that smoking is bad for you.” She sighed. “But you look like a smart kid, so I figure you know that.” Nodding her head, she indicated his gaggle of friends. “I also figure you want the cigarettes so you can impress your buddies, but I’m pretty sure they all smoke to impress, too, so what’s the point? And if I had any cash, I’d keep it instead of giving it to you, because as an adult, I shouldn’t be encouraging you to smoke.”
“Lady—”
She held up a finger. “I’m not done yet.”
He slapped his lips shut.
“As I was saying, I won’t give you the money, but I’m not going into the smoking thing either because”—she smiled, because here was her brilliant and profound point—“you’re going to have to learn from your own mistakes.” She waited for him to see the light, but he merely rolled his eyes, so she went on. “Like when you’re hooked on nicotine and coughing with that bad taste in your mouth”—she knew
that
from her one cigarette out back of her middle school’s gymnasium—“and you’ll hate yourself because it’s embarrassing to be asking strangers for money so you can support your habit. Yet, you can’t give it up as hard as you try.” At least that’s what she’d heard. “And going cold turkey?” She blinked. “It’ll kill ya.”
that
from her one cigarette out back of her middle school’s gymnasium—“and you’ll hate yourself because it’s embarrassing to be asking strangers for money so you can support your habit. Yet, you can’t give it up as hard as you try.” At least that’s what she’d heard. “And going cold turkey?” She blinked. “It’ll kill ya.”
“Lady—”
“Shh.” She waited a second, giving him a chance so she could
shh
him again. “Quit”—she lowered her voice, and he strained closer to hear—“while you’re ahead.”
shh
him again. “Quit”—she lowered her voice, and he strained closer to hear—“while you’re ahead.”
He stared at her, the lamp overhead beaming down on his dark hair and turning it midnight blue. Then slowly, one step at a time, he backed up, never taking his eyes off her. As if she were a member of the hyena pack.
“Quit while you’re ahead,” she repeated.
She couldn’t say she was ahead. She’d lost her sense of who she was. For thirty years, she
thought
she’d known, yet she’d lost even that. In searching for the new Trinity, she’d ended up in Norman’s hotel room. As exhilarating as some of those moments were, as good as that stupendous orgasm had been, she wasn’t gaining power or self-respect with Scott. She was losing that last final ounce of herself.
thought
she’d known, yet she’d lost even that. In searching for the new Trinity, she’d ended up in Norman’s hotel room. As exhilarating as some of those moments were, as good as that stupendous orgasm had been, she wasn’t gaining power or self-respect with Scott. She was losing that last final ounce of herself.
Tell him your name.
She couldn’t. What would it solve anyway? While breaking it off with him would hurt like hell—the thought made her sick—in her heart, she knew it was better to walk away. She’d sacrificed her self-image to men like Harper, men in lust with her body, her looks, or her money.
It wasn’t Scott’s fault, but he got her to do more than she wanted to do, expose more than she wanted to expose. She had the sinking feeling he would always get her to do more than she could handle. If she gave him her name, she’d have to be Little Miss Perfect again, except that Little Miss Perfect in Scott’s case might have a whole new meaning. Whatever, he’d have all the control. There was one lone choice. Scott was an addictive habit she had to quit before anyone found out about him, and going cold turkey was the only way.
Even if it killed her.
THE third day into Operation Cold Turkey, Trinity hit the DTs. Her hands shook, she couldn’t concentrate, and she was seeing things that weren’t there, like e-mails from Scott that never came. Or maybe it was too much caffeine.
She’d left him a voice mail the “morning after” and told him
sayonara, baby
, though in much nicer words, taking all the blame. Yet a teeny-tiny part of her kept hoping he didn’t believe her.
sayonara, baby
, though in much nicer words, taking all the blame. Yet a teeny-tiny part of her kept hoping he didn’t believe her.
Trinity slid her dollar across the counter. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” The countergirl
ka-chinged
on the cash register and snatched up the bill.
ka-chinged
on the cash register and snatched up the bill.
The company subsidized the cafeteria, and the bagel and cream cheese was a buck. In addition to her caffeine and Scott addictions, she could now add bagels and cream cheese. Since it was a bit before the normal break hour, the place was relatively empty. Trinity picked a seat by the window. Once again, it was raining, and the lawn was riddled with puddles.
She set her cell phone on the table beside her plate, and oh goodness, the first bite of that bagel was darn near . . . orgasmic. She closed her eyes, and an image of Scott popped into her mind. Scott always popped into her mind, and this time, it was
that
night. With Norman. And Scott between her legs.
that
night. With Norman. And Scott between her legs.
She shouldn’t have thought the word
orgasm
.
orgasm
.
“Your brother is driving me insane.”
Trinity startled and opened her eyes. The chair opposite screeched on the floor as Verna yanked it out, then plopped down.
“All right, so what is my brother doing now?” Trinity almost lost the appetite for her bagel.
“He wants me to talk to you about talking to your father.”
“I already told him I couldn’t talk to Daddy.”
Verna raised one eyebrow. “Couldn’t?”
Trinity mutinously took a bite of her perfectly scrumptious bagel before answering. She took a long time enjoying the flavors, until Verna tapped her blunt nails on the tabletop.
“Fine. I
won’t
do it.” Verna was demolishing the joy of her bagel.
won’t
do it.” Verna was demolishing the joy of her bagel.
“I’m so proud of you, honey.” Verna beamed, tiny laugh lines crisscrossing out from her eyes.
“You are?” The last three days, Trinity had turned into a total loser, and Verna was proud of her?
“You always let Lance walk all over you.”
Well, that wasn’t true. “I blacked his eye when we were teenagers and he called Faith fat.”
“You were defending Faith, so of course you gave him a shiner. I’m talking about the little things. ‘Trin, could you make sure Rosa gets my shirts cleaned’,” Verna mimicked. She was quite good at it.
“That’s because he was working, and I was at home.”
Verna lowered her head to regard Trinity through her lashes. “That’s because he walked all over you.”
Trinity dropped her voice as the cafeteria started to fill up for the morning break, though with all the chatter, they wouldn’t be overheard anyway. Still . . . “But you love Lance.”
“I give him unconditional love, meaning I love him despite the fact that sometimes he can be a real asshole.”
Trinity’s jaw dropped. “
Unconditional love
means you accept everything a person does because you love them.”
Unconditional love
means you accept everything a person does because you love them.”
Verna imitated a buzzer on a game show. “Honey, it means you know a person’s worst traits and love them despite it.”
Trinity gulped, and a little voice inside screamed, “Don’t do it!” She did it anyway. “What’s my worst trait?”
“You think you’re Little Miss Perfect. But honey”—Verna patted her hand—“you ain’t.”
That was nothing new. Trinity had figured it out the day she found Harper in the shower. But it was debilitating that Verna knew about her need to
be
Little Miss Perfect.
be
Little Miss Perfect.
“And you want everyone to like you.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Because sometimes making everyone like you means you have to compromise yourself.”
Trinity opened her mouth, but what was there to say? If she ever told anyone some of the things she’d done since kicking Harper out, well, let’s say they’d have a hard time getting past it. Even Verna.
The older woman waved a hand. “But ragging on you is not the reason I’m slumming.” She hooked a finger over her shoulder, indicating the cafeteria, which was nicely outfitted with new tables that didn’t wobble and comfy chairs that cushioned a person’s bottom.
“So why
are
you slumming?”
are
you slumming?”
Gripping the edges of the table, Verna leaned in and dropped her voice to conspiracy level. “Your father got a letter begging him to forgive Lance. And
you
signed it.”
you
signed it.”
“Why would I send Daddy a letter?” A furrow marred her brow. The lines on her face were multiplying like rabbits.
“
You
didn’t send it.”
You
didn’t send it.”
“Duh.” How could Lance do that when he knew how she felt about being in the middle between her two closest family members, her
only
family members?
only
family members?
Verna read the frown. “You can love him, but he’s
wrong
.”
wrong
.”
Without allowing herself to think, Trinity speed-dialed his cell phone. It kicked to voice mail. “Call Daddy and tell him you sent the letter, Lance. And don’t ever use my name again.”
What name? Trinity? Mrs. Harper Harrington the
Third
? Or Jezebel? Even Jessie? Why did everything come back to Scott?
Third
? Or Jezebel? Even Jessie? Why did everything come back to Scott?
She folded the phone and tucked it away on her lap.
“Your father knows it wasn’t you.”
“Verna, did you ever think that maybe Daddy’s wrong, too?”
“You know what your brother did.”
“But unconditional love means you love a person even when they totally screw up.” She sighed. “Right?”
“Right.”
That said it all. Harper had screwed up—literally and figuratively. Yet Trinity wasn’t about to forgive. Had she ever loved him at all? He’d been using her, but she’d used him, too. The question was, what had she been using him to get?
What she’d gotten was Scott, but good God, why did she miss him so when she couldn’t even identify what he gave her?
COMING up on three weeks Scott-free, Trinity was doing quite well with Operation Cold Turkey. She hardly thought about him more than a couple hundred times a day, which was down from a thousand when she first started. A vast improvement overall.
The sleepless nights still bothered her. The fantasies. Waking up overheated, perspiring, her breath rapid, her nipples hard, her body wet. It was so darn lonely masturbating in her bed, yet it was far worse when the shudders melted away. That’s when she missed him the most, his breath against her hair, his arms around her. God, even his voice.
But . . . she wasn’t going to think about all that. She’d gone cold turkey, and she was doing fine on a Friday morning when the March sun was shining and the air was crisp outside. No rain.
Her computer beeped for a new company e-mail as she slid into her secretarial chair.
IRice
came up on the screen, and Trinity caught the groan a hairy second before it exploded from her lips. Then she clicked and read.
IRice
came up on the screen, and Trinity caught the groan a hairy second before it exploded from her lips. Then she clicked and read.
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