This Can't be Life (34 page)

I got out of the car, walked up to the gates of Tyron’s estate, and took a long look around. I thought about the things that could never be between him and me because of the life he lived. I knew that we could never be a real couple. We could never go see a movie or have romantic dinners at our favorite restaurants.

“What in the hell am I doin’ here?” I’d asked myself that question so many times. I never thought that it would come to this again. I made a promise to myself a long time ago that I would never allow myself to be involved with someone who lived a lie, and that’s exactly what I did. I was with someone who was living a huge lie. It was bigger than just coming out to his family and saying, ‘Hey, I’m gay.’ Tyron would have to come out to the whole world and he would most definitely get stomped on.

I knew that I was settlin' for someone who would deny me at the drop of a dime. It hurt to even think these things and I knew it would hurt even more to walk away, so I decided to stay. Maybe, just maybe, one day soon he would open his eyes and realize that his only chance for happiness was with me and the life we could share together.

Tyron runs a fortune 500 company. He has a lot on his plate. And there I was, callin’ and bitchin' about him bein’ late and me havin’ to wait for him. I was out of line and planned on doin’ somethin’ to make up for it, because I was not goin’ to lose my man. This shit is by any means necessary!

Deon

        Nichelle’s passing was weighing heavily on my shoulders. Although it felt like it just happened yesterday, a couple of months had passed and the pain was still too much for me. I tried to continue to live as normal a life as I could after we buried her, but it seemed as if I’d been having an out of body experience and just
watching myself go through the motions.

My parents stayed for a few weeks after the funeral and would have stayed longer if I hadn’t insisted that they go back to their lives in
Atlanta
. They took Tyson back with them to live until the season ended and I could figure out a way to keep him here with me throughout the year. I was planning on hiring a full-time, live-in nanny, but my mom didn’t like the idea of hiring a stranger to take care of him and kept hinting at letting him stay in
Atlanta
and live with them. I really didn’t think that was a bad idea, but I didn’t want Tyson to think that I was sending him away because I didn’t want him.

I hadn’t spoken to Simone since a couple of days after the funeral when she called to check on me and to see if I needed anything. I was really thankful that she was there for me when it really mattered. Her actions were genuine and made me really see that she was the type of woman that I originally thought her to be. I could never repay her for her kindness and for being by my side. I apologized for what happened between us and told her that I hoped she was happy. I really do care for her as a friend, so no matter what’s gone on between us, I still want what’s best for her. Like Nichelle said, I have to live with the choices I’ve made. I know that it would be next to impossible for Simone to trust me again, after what I did to her. Even I know that nothing is worse than the silent treatment. Especially when you know that you haven’t done anything to deserve it.

I had a lot on my mind and it was driving me crazy. I needed an escape. I walked around my house and the memories of Nichelle overwhelmed me. She was a sister to me and all I could think of was the last night we spent together, sitting right here on my floor. I stood motionless for a while, trying to understand why this happened and how someone like him could change people’s lives forever. I was angry and felt like I wanted to punch a wall or hurt someone. I had to leave this house!

I had nowhere in particular to go, so I just drove. I found myself parked outside of Simone’s apartment building with no intention of going inside. The last time I was here was the last time that my life felt even a little bit normal. I pulled off and hopped on the 110 freeway. I was driving with no destination in mind. 45 minutes later, and a long ride up the 110 to the 405, I found myself exiting the freeway on
Venice Blvd.
I parked at
Venice
Beach
, pulled over, got out of my truck, and headed toward the water. I stood there long enough for the tide to come in and cover my sneakers. It didn’t even bother me. I let the waves cover my ankles as tears dropped from my eyes and wet sand stuck to the bottom of my white velour sweats. As the tears ran down my face, I felt some of the heaviness in my chest lighten. I was thankful that the beach was just about deserted, although I wouldn’t have cared if anyone saw me crying.

I sat in the sand for what had to be close to two hours. The sun was setting and I felt calm and peaceful. For the first time in a long while, I felt like everything would be okay. The sound of the waves and the smell of the ocean always helped calm me. As I sat there in my own world, oblivious to my surroundings, I heard loud barking getting closer and closer. Before I was able to get on my feet, a grey Pit was no further than a foot away from me, running in my direction. I attempted to jump up and run, but before I was out of squatting position, the dog jumped on me and started licking my face. That damned dog scared the shit out of me! I started laughing and patting the dog, happy that I hadn’t been mauled. I looked around searching for the owner when a woman ran up, pulled the dog off of me and put it back on its leash.

“Oh, my goodness, I am so, so sorry! Are you okay?” she asked breathlessly with a slight, unfamiliar accent.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Scared me half to death, I’m ashamed to admit, but I’m fine.” I laughed nervously, as I raised myself to a standing position.

“He’s harmless, but I know he looks otherwise. I’m sorry. My name is Shelly, Shelly Preston. And this is Blu,” she said, wiping her hand on her white cotton yoga pants then extending it for me to shake.

“Deon,” I replied, shaking her hand, purposely omitting my last name. “Where are you from?” I asked her.

“I’m from
Northern Australia
, a small town called Wyndham, and Blu is from
Atlanta
,
Georgia
.” She rubbed his head and the dog started going wild again. She unhooked his leash and Blu bolted toward the water.

“Well, Blu and I have something in common. I’m from
Atlanta
,
Georgia
also. I know this may sound silly, but I haven’t heard of any black people from
Australia
,” I laughed. “What brings you here?”

“Oh, I live down a ways on
Venice
beach. I walk my dog here everyday,” she smiled, calling out to her dog.

“No, I meant what brought you to the
US
?”

“Oh, sorry,” she blushed. “I’ve been here for close to 10 years now. I’ve lived all over, really. What brings you to LA?” She asked as Blu ran up to her. She bent down and rubbed his ears. She looked up at me expectantly as Blu wagged over to me. I began rubbing his head and ears, enjoying the dog. I had almost forgotten how much I like dogs. I was lost in my thoughts, playing with Blu, and forgot that she had asked me a question.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I came here for work,” I said nonchalantly, taking a seat in the sand. She smiled at me and her eyes twinkled and revealed an innocence I had yet to see in a woman.

“What do you do for a living?” I asked. For the first time since we met, I took in her flawless complexion and noticed that her face lit up when she smiled, showing perfectly white, straight teeth. I was immediately a fan. Her eyes were a dark, golden shade of brown and her hair was wild and hung all over her head in big loose kinky jet-black curls that gave her a girlish quality. Her eyes sparkled when she replied.

“I’m a potter,” she smiled. “Where do you live?” she asked, sifting her hands through the sand as Blu ran off and splashed through the water.

We sat on the beach and talked for over two hours. We talked about the places we’ve been, people we’ve met, experiences we’ve had. We talked easily as if we had known each other for much longer than a couple of hours.

I went home that night with her on my mind. She was intriguing, beautiful, and normal. She seemed to be a simple woman and I liked that. We made plans to have dinner sometime in the next couple of days and I was definitely looking forward to it.

Stacey

I waited for over an hour before Tyron’s car pulled up behind mine. The sound of the gate openin’ jolted me from a light sleep. When the gate opened, I led the way in and made my way around the circular driveway. I parked behind a brand new, cherry colored Supercharged Range Rover that was so damned spankin' new it didn’t even have plates. I got myself together and stepped out of the car. I kept my distance and tried to act as normal as possible in front of Tyron’s driver. When Tyron stepped out the back seat of the midnight blue Maybach, I wanted to run and jump into his arms. It took all the restraint I had in me to keep my feet planted on top of the limestone. Hell, it took all my strength not drop to the ground from weakness.

He is absolutely beautiful
, I thought as I fought to regulate my breathin'. He took my breath away every time. A caramel, cashmere pea coat was folded over his arm. His suit was exceptionally tailored, his silk tie loosened around his neck, and his diamond and platinum cuff links with his initials “TM” gleamed every time the sun kissed them. As he walked my way smilin', my stomach did somersaults.

“What’s up, Stace?” he asked, walkin’ past me with a mischievous grin on his face.

“You, TM. That’s what’s up,” I replied, smilin’.

“Right, right,” he laughed as he punched in a code that unlocked and automatically opened the front door.

After we walked into the house and the door closed, I was in his arms in a split second hugging and kissing his face. Nothing felt more right than being in Tyron’s arms.

“You missed me, huh?” He laughed as I finally let go of him because of the ringing phone.

“More than you will ever know.” I said walking into the kitchen to pour him a glass of water.

I walked into the family room where Ty was sittin on the sofa, talkin’ on the phone. I sat his glass of water down on the end table and walked into his bedroom closet to get his slippers. When I returned, I bent down on my knees and began takin his shoes and socks off. I massaged his feet for a good 10 minutes while he finished his conversation, a conversation that was startin’ to alarm me. He was talkin’ to a woman, or hell it could have been a man, but I knew it wasn’t business! Why in the hell would he sit here in my face and talk on the phone like this? I tried to calm the increasin' jealous rage that was formin', but it wasn’t workin’.

“Yeah, you know I do. Why would you say that?” he laughed for the thousandth time since he’d been on the phone. “Oh, is that what you think?” More laughter. “Yeah, all right. Say that shit if you want to. You know what’s up.
I’m
runnin’ this shit right here,” he said playfully. That was all I could take. I got up and walked out the double doors that led to the side of the house and through the garden. Tears ran down my face before I could even get out of the door good. The pain I felt was unbelievable, almost unbearable. I tried hard to breathe as I walked faster past the white oleanders and bougainvillea that had yet to bloom. The scents made me cry even harder, made me feel worse. I kicked a lily and stomped on some tulips as I made my way toward the backyard. Lookin’ out at the sea, hot tears streamed down my face.

I lowered myself onto the grass because I knew I couldn’t hold myself up any longer.

“Why would he blatantly do that shit in my face? I’m not fuckin’ stupid! Why would he do that?” I whispered aloud like a schizophrenic talkin’ to the voices inside my head.

“Fuck this shit! Fuck him!” I got up and stormed back toward the door I had come out of, wipin' my face of any leftover tears. I was livid and I could not take this blatant disrespect. I haven’t seen this man in a month and waited outside for him for almost two hours and the first thing he does when we get inside is answer the phone and have a conversation with someone else I know he is fuckin’! Oh, hell naw! I walked back inside and right past his ass, heading for the front door. He was hangin’ up the phone by the time I made it through the door and out of the family room. I could hear his slippered feet floppin' against the floor not too far behind me.