Lincoln was just as nervous returning home with her. He'd tried talking her out of it, saying it didn't feel right, but she would ear none of it. It brought a smile to his heart—she hadn't changed after these months of being away from her. She was just as strong a woman as when they'd first met. His hands both rested on his knee, and hers draped over his while they rocked beside each other in the backseat of the taxi cab, listening to the driver mutter as curse as the cab's wheels stepped into another pothole. His thoughts went towards Monique. He wondered if she'd still remember him—of course she's a little girl, but who knows what little ones are able to remember? He still possessed a snapshot of her in his wallet taken when she was but a baby. The look of total baby-wonder on her face had kept him warm as if he were lying beside a fire these past nights that he'd been alone. Would she still remember him for what he was to her even when he was long gone? The fear ... the gnawing fear beat against his heart, mixing with his blood flow, it was something he knew he couldn't avoid¬—the inevitable. How soon? The doctor had told him anywhere between a couple of months onto a year.
Still, who knows.
Suddenly his mind came away from his reverie as Michelle tapped his hand.
"We're there," she said.
He didn't know whether to feel glad or saddened by her words as the taxi drew to the curb and eased to a halt for both of them to climb out. Settling the fare, Michelle noticed the hesitant look on his face and reached for his hand and led him into the building and from there up the stairs to her apartment floor.
"Monique's at the St. Michael Day-care centre," Michelle said to him as she turned her key in the lock and led him into her home. "A neighbour's child of mine will be bringing her home in the next couple of minutes. You need me to get you something?"
"Some tea would do, thank you," he said to her.
She took off her scarf and dropped her handbag on the centre table and together they went into the kitchen. He sat by the table while she heated some water on the stove and in no time had two tea cups ready. A few minutes later they were seated across from each other sipping their individual tea in silence. The silence was an awkward one, and Michelle sighed with relief when he broke it.
"You haven't done much redecorating," said Lincoln, casting his eyes around. "You always talked about giving the place a fresh coat of paint."
"I was thinking about doing just that. Don't know how come I never got the chance."
"You know you never quite liked this neighbourhood. I always figured you'd have moved out by now."
"Why the hell should I? The rent's cheap, even though the landlady's still a snotty old bitch."
Lincoln nearly sputtered out his tea as he tried to fight back his laughter but was unable to. Michelle laughed with him while she got up and picked up a cloth to wipe his tea off his shirt and from the table's surface. The laughter though didn't last long before they resumed their foreboding silence. She reached her hand across to touch his.
"Linc, are you scared?"
"You ought to know the answer to that, Mich. Hell yeah, I'm scared. Why else do you think I ran away from you and Monique? I was so scared, I thought I might have passed it down to her or something ... or maybe that I'd given it to you."
"I don't think you did. I had a blood test done for Monique and myself about a month ago. I'll have another done though, just to make sure."
"Yeah, you do that." He fell silent for a moment, then he brought his other hand and covered Michelle's. "I'm so sorry, babe. I'm sorry I left you and Monique. Believe me, I didn't mean—"
"You've got nothing to apologise, Linc. I didn't understand then, but I do now."
"It's not the fear of dying that scares me really. It's having that little girl think less of me after I'm gone."
"You're not going anywhere, Linc. You're back home where you once where. I'm going to take care of you¬—Monique and I, we're going to take care of you."
He looked at her, saw the seriousness in her eyes and knew it was a done deal, no use fighting back.
"You still love me, Mich?"
She drew her chair across to be beside him. "One time, all I tried to do was hate you. For being the man you are, but most especially for running away. But I guess that's water down the bridge. Yes, a part of me still loves you, Linc. You've done wrong, but you're home. For now that's all that matters to me."
She retrieved her arms and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him into an embrace. A dam had just been let loose inside her heart. She felt its waters rush on down like a turbulent wave, splashing over scorched earth and parched dry land. Once she'd thought she'd never find herself in such a predicament, yet here she was right back at it. Was she being desperate, she wondered? A part of her told her this was so, but she didn't seem to mind. She really didn't seem to care anymore.
They were still locked in an embrace when there came the sound of approaching footsteps. Lincoln let go of her, gazing past her shoulder at what had just walked in. Michelle turned in her chair and smiled with relief when she saw her neighbour's friend standing close to the kitchen's doorway holding Monique in her hand. Michelle got up and went to thank her neighbour, carrying her daughter in her arm as she saw her off her apartment before returning to Lincoln who was no standing beside the table, looking somewhat nervous and unsettled as if she were about to introduce him to his maker. Monique stared at him with interest as her mother carried her towards him.
"Monique-babe, do you know who this man is?" she whispered into her daughter's ear.
Monique shook her head; Lincoln swallowed a gob of saliva.
"Well, let me reintroduce you then. This is your Daddy. I want you to get to know him more."
She held the child before Lincoln who then carried her in his arms. Father and daughter stared at each other like half-felt strangers. Then Lincoln's eyes poured out tears.
"Hey there, pretty babe. Your Daddy's come home."
"Da," Monique muttered.
The sound was so infectious, Lincoln could stop himself from laughing. He wrapped an arm around his daughter's back and laughed, though this time tears poured from his eyes. Michelle came to his side and there the three of them stood with their arms around each other, looking like a perfect portrait of a family. The moment was soon broken by the sound of someone knocking at the door. Michelle left both of them to go see who it was.
"Shanice?" she muttered her friend's name.
**********
Shanice spent the first twenty minutes since leaving Nigel's place lost in quagmire of roving thoughts which had begun beating against her brow with the force of a troubling headache. People went past her, some even bumped into her, and yet she was oblivious to this. Her feet simply took her towards a destination that was none of her choice. After some seemingly endless walking, she managed to get a bit of her thoughts on track. It would have been alright if she simply went back to her place, but that would seem rather easy on her part. Besides, what would she do with herself once she got there: fall on her bed and cry her eyes off till evening? Beat herself for falling in love with someone whom all this while she figured she knew but now seemed like she hardly ever knew? Reach for the phone and dial his number, curse him when he picks up for being a lying bastard and then hang up after swearing she never wants to set eyes on him again?
Too late, her feet were taking her close to her apartment building. She was less than a block from it when she stopped and took a detour instead towards the direction of Plainview Park. She found herself a lonely park bench and sat there and watched other people strolling in and out of the park. She tried to empty her mind of the episode she'd encountered back at Michael's place, but even that was a hard thing to do. It was hard for her to avoid replying the words that the woman had mentioned to her, of being his wife. Shanice was unaware of her right hand curling into a fist and smacking into the palm of her left hand till after she'd repeated the action several times and then had to draw herself to a halt before anyone noticed her and began to assume she was losing herself.
Michael ... Michael ... how the fuck could you go and do this to me! She cried inside her head.
She must have sat there for a long time before she finally got up and left. She needed some bit of solace, and the only person she figured could provide her with that right now was her best friend, Michelle.
**********
Tara was huffing and puffing as she drove all the way across the city back to her condo located in a posh apartment building in the Upper West side. On arriving there, she threw her handbag across the room, kicked her feet out of her shoes and cursed while she did them both. She went into the kitchen and got out a cold bottle of Bacardi and poured herself a stiff one. She finished her drink in one swallow. Not satisfied, she was just about pouring herself another when she noticed a shadow standing behind her. She turned around, her face glaring with anger at whom it might be.
It was her three-year old daughter, Gloria. She stood there cradling her teddy bear to her chest, staring at her mother with expressionless eyes. Tara never could get the fact out of her mind of just how much she looked like her father. At other times she was gentle with her, but now wasn't one of such times.
"What is it, Gloria?" she snapped at her. "Don't you have homework to do?"
"I don't have any," she answered.
"Where's Oliver? I thought I left him to look after you."
Gloria didn't need to answer that as soon there was the sound of a door slamming closed, followed by approaching footsteps. Gloria turned to see who it was and at the same time moved aside for the approaching shadow that was Oliver. He was eight years younger than Tara, and still he looked like he'd turned an adult merely months ago. His cheeks still bore some chubbiness to it, even though he was attempting to grow a goatee. His hair was stylish and he had a distinctive swagger that could only be found amongst college undergrads. He was wearing a brown leather jacket and flayed jeans. He walked past Gloria as if he'd barely seen her and smiled at her mother as he approached her.
"How're you doing, gorgeous?" he came towards her and planted a kiss on her left cheek. But Tara wasn't buying any of it.
"Where has your ass being, Olie?" she preferred calling him that instead of Olivier. He didn't like it as when coming from her she made him sound more as if he were still a kid. One of these days he was going to have a talk with her about that. Although a very careful one. Wouldn't want to upset his money machine, now would he?
"I got a call from one of my boys, asking if I could meet him somewhere. I wasn't gone for long though."
"You expect me to believe that crap coming from you?"
"It's the God-honest truth, babe. Why would I want to lie to you about such?"
