The Ex Files (12 page)

“Look,” Sheridan began, “this is a stressful time. My divorce was awhile ago, but your separation wounds are fresh. However, I can tell you that you will get through this. I did.”

They looked at her with new eyes.

Encouraged, she continued, “I made it through that test in my life because I had a family who loved me, Pastor Ford who reminded me how to stand, and God who carried me when I just was too tired to walk. All of that worked for me. But during that time if I’d had a few women to talk to who could relate to what I was going through, it might have been better.

“I think that’s all that Pastor Ford is offering us. Another arm to lean on.” She paused and looked at each woman. “Some extra shoulders to cry on.”

Tears brimmed at the corners of Vanessa’s eyes, but still she smiled, and in that moment, Sheridan knew there was a lot she could learn from a woman who could still show cheer through her kind of tragedy.

Kendall’s scowl had softened and she nodded, slightly, as if she wanted Sheridan to know that she almost agreed. Even Asia’s hostility seemed to have lessened—although, with her arms and legs crossed and her eyebrows furrowed so close together it looked like she had a unibrow, it was hard to say if she would return next week. But when Asia granted Sheridan a half smile, half smirk, Sheridan nodded and tossed away the thought she had of voting Asia off this island.
Maybe there’s hope for her too
.

“Ladies, we got off to a shaky start, but that’s not how we have to finish.” She reached her hand forward and Vanessa grabbed it before she extended her other hand to Kendall. It took a moment for Kendall to reach out to Asia.

With a smile, Sheridan bowed her head and prayed.

V
ANESSA

“I wish you’d stayed home today, Vanessa.”

Vanessa pressed her cell phone between her ear and shoulder as she yanked open the glass door. “That’s what you said about church last week and that’s why I didn’t go to services yesterday. But that was enough. I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Yeah,” Louise said, “but I was hoping you’d give it a little more time. If you thought those simpletons in church were something, I have a feeling you ain’t seen nothing until you meet up with those knuckleheads here—beginning with those two in your office.”

Vanessa chuckled. “I can handle Nadine and Monica, and anyone else the devil tries to send my way.”

“I just wish you’d give yourself time to heal.”

Vanessa nodded at the building’s security guard before she stepped in front of the elevator banks. “I am healing. I’d just prefer to do it around people, rather than at home.” She didn’t add the word that still haunted her—alone.

“I guess it could be good for you to come back to work. I wish you worked in my department so that I could keep an eye on you.”

“I’ll be all right. God never puts more on you than you can bear.” She smiled at her own words. Since the prayer meeting last week, her heart had been winning. The thoughts still came to her, the ones that told her that she’d be better off with Reed. But she kept her mind on the words that she was sure God was sending—
You can make it
.

Still, it was hard to fight the lonely hours at home, in that house that reminded her with its silence that she was alone.

“You have a great attitude, girl,” Louise said.

“Well, either I believe in God, or I don’t.” Again it was her heart that spoke. “I can’t be backing down.”

“You’re better than me. I don’t know how I’d be standing if I were wearing your shoes. So, let’s celebrate. Let’s go out to dinner. Are you up for that?”

“That would be so great.” She smiled. God was better than good. Dinner out—now she wouldn’t have another night alone. “Thanks a lot, Louise.”

“Nothing but love. I’ll meet you at your desk at five. We’ll take my car and I’ll bring you back here afterwards.”

They said their good-byes just as the elevator doors opened. As Vanessa moved through the carpeted hall, she calculated the hours in her head. By the time she and Louise had dinner, chatted, and then drove back to the office, she wouldn’t get home until nine or so. Just in time to go straight to bed.

She strolled into the outer offices of Olympic Marketing; she’d been gone for two weeks, but this world was exactly the same. Nadine, filing her nails and chomping on a wad of gum too big for her mouth, was perched on the edge of Monica’s desk. The officemates gossiped as if two phones weren’t ringing.

Vanessa said, “Do you want me to get that?”

Their mouths stopped moving.

“No, that’s okay,” Monica said. “I got it.”

Vanessa turned toward her desk.

“What are you doing here?” Nadine asked.

“Good morning to you, too.” Vanessa hung her purse on the back of her chair. “Is Mr. Wrigley in yet?”

Both of the women shook their heads, their stares remaining on her.

“Great! I’ll catch up on some of the work I missed.” She flipped the computer’s switch, turned on her radio, and kept her eyes away from the ones staring at her. But still, Nadine and Monica gawked as if they were waiting for something to happen.

Vanessa opened Mr. Wrigley’s calendar. Without looking up, she said, “Thanks for covering for me, Nadine.”

“Sure.”

“You too, Monica.”

“No problem.” The young woman waved her four-inch Pepto Bismol–colored nails in the air. “That’s how we do.”

Vanessa frowned. How we do? The three of them had never done anything. For almost four years, she’d been the outsider. Never once had the duo—who were already chums when Vanessa accepted this administrative position—invited her to lunch, or any of their after-work excursions. In the beginning, she’d been hurt by their snub. The snide comments they made about the way she dressed or wore her hair didn’t help.

But Reed had been there to reassure her.

“Baby, they’re jealous,” he’d said after she’d complained for the millionth time.

“Look at me,” she said. “What can those two be jealous of?” In her mind, Nadine and Monica had everything. Although she often frowned when the twenty-something-year-olds sashayed into the office wearing cleavage-raising tops and miniskirts, she admired their carefree attitudes. Not even their conservative fifty-something-year-old bosses could get the two to roll on their program. Nadine and Monica did their thing, their way. “I can assure you,” she’d told Reed, “that neither one of those girls is jealous of me.”

“Baby, I hate when you talk like that. Why do you put yourself down?”

“I’m not doing that. I’m just sayin’ they’re young—”

“And what are you, old?” He’d chuckled. “Okay, so we’re not in our twenties, but we have the wisdom of time.”

“And they’re so thin,” she’d continued her litany.

“Like any black man wants a bone.”

She’d sighed, and Reed had taken her into his arms. “Baby, they’re jealous. They know you have a man at home who adores his thirty-eight-year-old, size sixteen, more-than-a-woman wife.”

He’d made her feel so much better that the next morning, she’d sashayed into her office, tossed aside their sideway glances, and ignored their chitchat. On that day, their mid-back-length weaves and twenty-four-inch waistlines didn’t look so good—in fact, they looked downright hoochie.

The years passed and they’d never become anything close to friends, but, somehow, Nadine grinned at Vanessa now as if they’d always been buddies.

“So.” Nadine perched against Vanessa’s desk as if she planned to stay awhile. “I was sorry to hear about Reed.”

Vanessa’s heart sped up. “Thanks.” It was as short a response as she could give. She prayed that it, and the fact that she didn’t look up, would be enough.

“I’m sorry, too.” Monica planted herself next to Nadine. “I couldn’t believe it when Mr. Wrigley told us that he passed away.”

With the exception of dropping off papers from one of their bosses, Vanessa couldn’t remember a time when the two had come this close to her. They’d always stayed so far away—as if her age, her looks were contagious.

“So, what happened?” Nadine asked.

Now Vanessa’s heart raced. “Reed died.” Still, she didn’t look at them.

“We know that,” Nadine said, “but we heard he committed suicide. Were you guys having problems?”

Slowly, her eyes lifted and she glared at the women who had never strung more than five consecutive words of conversation with her. Who had never shared a meal or a glass of water with her. Yet here they stood, wide-eyed as if they should have permission to delve into the private sanctum of her heartbreak.

Vanessa opened her mouth, but Monica stepped in. “Nadine, suicide is not about someone’s problem with someone else. It’s about the person themselves.” With a nod, she smiled at Vanessa, and then explained, “I looked it up on the Internet after I heard about Reed. But the one thing I found is that if you want to understand why someone does this, the suicide note gives insight.” She paused. “What did Reed’s note say?”

Vanessa’s eyes were as wide as her mouth. Her glance ricocheted between the two women. Then, with a breath, she returned to her typing.

“It might help to talk about it,” Nadine said.

“Yeah; we’re here for you,” Monica added.

If you do it, you won’t hurt anymore
.

Vanessa blinked, stood, grabbed her purse, and then rushed from the office, just as R. Kelly began singing on the radio about happy people.

Vanessa waited until she was home before she called Louise.

“Okay, what happened?” Louise asked the moment she heard Vanessa’s voice.

“Nothing.” She held her head as she paced in her bedroom. “Everything.” The memory of their words and their faces, gaping at her as if she and her tragedy were tabloid news, was trapped in her mind. “Let’s just say you were right,” Vanessa continued. “Maybe I need a bit more time away from work.”

“I’m here to tell you.”

“I’ll take the entire three weeks they gave me.” Slowly she lowered herself onto the bed and wondered why her head ached.

If you do it, you won’t hurt anymore
.

Vanessa said, “I’m really glad we’re going out to dinner. I need to be around someone who’s normal.”

“Hey,” Louise said. “I was just about to call you when you called me. Can we do a rain check on dinner?”

No!
Vanessa’s heart cried. “Rain check?” She tried to keep her voice from quivering.

“Yeah, Jon called and he wants to have dinner.”

But I was first
.

“And you know the problems we’ve been having.”

What about my problem?

“And I miss Jon. I really do.”

That I understand
.

“So, when he called and said he missed me and wanted to get together, I had to say yes.” Louise paused, just realizing her friend hadn’t said a word. “Vanessa, I hope it’s okay.”

Vanessa reached deep inside for her normal voice. “It’s fine.”

“Thanks,” Louise gushed, and Vanessa wondered how her best friend couldn’t hear her distress. “Let’s do dinner tomorrow.”

If Jon doesn’t call again
. “Okay,” Vanessa said, doubting that her friend would remember this promise. Once she got together with Jon, Vanessa knew she wouldn’t hear from Louise for a couple of days. That had been her best friend’s pattern. In the past that didn’t matter—not when she had Reed. But tonight she needed her friend. Tomorrow could be too late.

“I’ll call you, Vanessa. Hopefully, I’ll be too busy to ring you tonight.” She giggled.

Vanessa wondered if Louise noticed that she’d hung up without saying good-bye. Probably not, now that Jon was back.

Her eyes wandered around the bedroom and rested on the photo of Reed on the nightstand. His eyes locked with hers, but then she shook her glance away. Alone.

There had to be someone she could call. The light flashed on the answering machine—there was hope.

“You have one new message,” the recorder spoke to her when she hit the Play button. “Vanessa, this is Mother. I haven’t spoken to you in a week and I don’t know why you—” Vanessa pressed Delete, and then Play again for more messages, even though she already knew her mother was the only one.

“There has to be more,” she said to the machine.

Her friends had gathered from the moment they heard the news. They’d surrounded her with love and promises.

“You won’t have to go through this alone.”

“I will always be here for you.”

“If there is anything you need, just let us know.”

But after the funeral, the calls had been so few. Only Louise—and her mother—called every day. And tonight, she didn’t even have Louise.

“It’s okay,” she said to the walls. “Everyone has their own lives.” But still, the tears made their way to her eyes.

In the bathroom, she looked at the bottles lined on the counter.

If you do it, you won’t hurt anymore
.

Her body shook with the sobs that rose within her. She leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. Alone. She couldn’t do this—alone. She couldn’t do this anymore.