I'm so pleased to bring you the Second Book in the "Song of the Heart" series.
Chapter One
Five
years .
For five whole years Ryan Oakes had kept
a secret, but he knew it was confession time.
“Today,” he said, gripping the steering
wheel, “I’m telling Patti the truth, today.”
Ryan pulled his cream-colored Lincoln
Navigator in the driveway of his five thousand square foot Brick Georgian
Colonial home in Garden City, Long Island. He put the car into park but kept
the motor running.
Ryan tapped the wheel. He had been saved
for all of six months now, and someone had forgotten to tell him that salvation
came with a Conscience—with a capital C—that prodded him to fess up and tell
his wife and son what he had done.
The car sat idle as he vacillated.
No, he could not do it. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced
that there were some lies that should remain in the past. God had forgiven him
and tossed all of his sins in the sea of forgetfulness. He would hold on to
that.
Ryan sighed. He was forgiven, but if
only he could forget. He leaned back into the leather seat and hit the back of
his head several times against the padded headrest before closing his eyes.
Determined, he shook his head and groaned, “No no no,” but that did not erase
the guilt gnawing at him. There was no other option. He had to tell the truth.
He knew it.
Patricia “Patti” Oakes opened the
front door and poked her head out. Ryan’s eyes raked her five-ten slender
frame, olive skin, and flowing auburn curls. One look at her sultry smile and
pouty mouth and Ryan switched gears. Anxious, he undid the locks and crooked
his finger.
She ambled toward him with a
seductive sway of her hips. Patricia was a neurosurgeon, which meant she was a
heady combination of smart and sexy.
Ryan hid a small smile. He knew what she
was thinking, and he liked that idea. He waited for Patricia to open the
passenger door and watched as she swung her long legs to hoist herself into the
vehicle. As soon as she was settled, he placed his hand on her left leg and
inched upward. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered. “As I sat in business meetings all
day, I only had one thought. Coming home to see your face.”
“I’ve missed you too.” Her skirt
hiked higher. “I didn’t expect to be in surgery all night, and by the time I
came in this morning, you’d already left.”
He heard her plaintive voice and knew what
she needed. Ryan reached for the seat adjustment and slid his seat backward. In
a swift move, he lifted Patricia like a rag doll and positioned her so she
straddled his lap. He drew her close to him and sniffed. She smelled like
lavender. “I can’t wait,” he said, while his lips and hands proved his point.
“I figured as much,” Patricia
groaned.
He was going to have her here and
now. Ryan shifted the car in drive and curved his head around her body so that
he could see. Then he pressed the garage door opener and pulled into the huge
space. He did not care about being discreet, but if Brian, their only son,
pulled up and saw them in such a compromising position, he would have their
heads.
Ryan and Patricia loved each other almost
to the point of obsession. Their consuming passion had made them oblivious to
all, including Brian. For most of his formative years, Brian had felt ignored
and unloved, which had led to his acting out, truancy, and aberrant behaviors.
Ryan and Patricia had not known how Brian felt, and if they had not met Tiffany
Knightly before she passed, they would have lost their son.
Tiffany had taken Brian under her wing as
a surrogate mother. She fed him and encouraged Brian to quit smoking, get his
act together, and improve his grades. Thirsty for love, Brian had clung to her
and flourished under her attention.
It was because of Tiffany—and later
her daughter, Karlie—their son was now in college and on the right path toward
becoming a contributor to society. Brian, Karlie, and her boyfriend, Jamaal,
attended New York University.
“I can’t wait, honey,” Patricia
moaned. As soon as the garage door closed, she undressed.
Ryan eyed the tempting display and
smiled. He was all too willing to comply. After almost twenty-five years
together, Ryan still found her desirable and insatiable, and he loved that
about her.
“Me, either, honey,” he whispered. He
kissed her with passion before tearing his lips away. “Patti, we’re behaving
like teenagers when we have a king-sized, four-poster bed inside the house.”
“I don’t need a bed,” she pouted. “I
just need you.”
Patricia made a valid point.
Throwing caution to the wind, Ryan made love to his wife. Afterward, when they
exited the vehicle, they did not make it past the living room. Ravenous, Ryan
and Patricia clawed each other with unbridled passion. He knocked over one of
the $300 Murray Feiss lamps from an end table. Both ignored it.
Fortunately for them, Brian had not
decided to pay them a visit that day. As they lay on the carpet in each other’s
arms, Ryan cradled his wife’s head and played with the tendrils of her hair.
Her skin glistened from the effects of their passion. Again, his conscience
pricked him.
Tell her.
“No, I can’t.” He uttered the words in a low tone of voice,
but Patricia heard him. She turned her body toward him and kissed him on the
neck. “Can’t what?”
I
can’t tell you the truth . Ryan rubbed his nose in her hair. Mmm. He smelled apricots. “I can’t have you
again, though I want to.” It wasn’t a complete lie. He wanted Patricia all the
time.
“Oh, Ryan, I love you,” she sighed.
“How did I luck out with such a good man?” She took his face in her hands and
kissed him gently on the lips. “I hear women at work gripe about their
husbands, boyfriends, and baby daddies, and I consider myself blessed that I
don’t have any worries like that. You’re a rare breed of man, Ryan Oakes, and I
love you always.”
Ryan gulped, and his conscience gave
him a swift kick in the gut. He closed his eyes because he knew that he did not
deserve that trusting look on her face. Not anymore. But, he could not bear to
see Patricia’s trust turn into disgust. What was he going to do?
Nothing .
“Wake up, sleepyhead.” Patricia
poked him in the chest.
“Lord, help me,” Ryan prayed. He
pried his eyes open.
His wife misunderstood and chuckled.
“Yes, He’s going to have to help you because of what I’ve got planned . . .”
Ryan felt her body shift and knew what
she intended to do. Tomorrow. He would tell her tomorrow. Never mind
that he said that yesterday—and the day before that. He would keep his word
this time. Tomorrow would be the day.
Chapter Two
“What do they mean my sound is too
sweet?”
Karlie Knightly swept her shoulder-length
curls out of her face. She crisscrossed her long legs on her king-sized bed in the
Marlton Hotel.
Karlie had wanted to rent an apartment,
but her adopted father, Neil Jameson, convinced her to live in the hotel. That
way she would not have to cook or worry about housekeeping with her coursework
load. She had stepped into the luxurious building resplendent with rich
burgundy undertones and had fallen in love. Though the rooms were small, she
loved the crown moldings, brass fixtures, and the private marble bathroom. The
onsite restaurant and café added to its appeal.
She clutched a printout from a quack
blogger who was gathering clout. Her debut song, “How Great Thou Art,” had
released to not-so-stellar reviews. According to this twit wannabe reporter,
Karlie’s voice was nothing like her “dearly departed mother’s.”
In fact, Brenda Northeimer called her
sound “too sweet, saccharine, and filled with fake sentiment to grasp the raw
emotion needed for a song like that.”
Try
losing your mother and see how you would feel.
Karlie grabbed several tissues from
her nightstand and blew her nose. She knew she could not sing like her mother
did. She was not trying to. She was her own person. Karlie crumpled the paper
and tossed it against the wall. It landed on the herringbone wood floor with a
thud.
Karlie strolled in her bathroom to throw
out the soiled tissues and wash her face. She looked in the mirror at her
almond-shaped face, so much like her mother’s except Karlie had honey-colored
eyes and slightly fuller lips.
Brenda Northheimer did not know what
it was like to be left alone because cancer had reared its head and torn her
life to pieces. Five years had passed, but that did not stop Karlie from
wetting her pillow at night for a mother who she would never see again.
Neil and his wife, Myra had taken
her into their home and hearts. Their daughter, Addison, Addie for short, whom
she adored, was the sister she never had. But Karlie missed her mother. Tiffany
Knightly was irreplaceable.
Karlie’s cell phone buzzed. She
jumped to retrieve it from her computer desk, hoping that it was her boyfriend,
Jamaal Weathers. She had texted him earlier, but he still had classes, and then
had step rehearsal after that.
It was not Jamaal. It was Brian.
Ugh, why didn’t Brian ever give her
advanced notice? He just popped in whenever the mood struck. Karlie wiped her
face. Since she lived on the second floor, she knew he would be at her door any
minute. She scrambled to make her bed and picked up the crumpled paper. She was
about to throw it into the trash can when she heard the knock.
Holding the paper in her left hand
behind her back, Karlie opened the door. “Hey, Brian.”
“Hey, yourself, Sweet Cheeks.” He
squeezed her cheeks and entered her small space.
Trying to be discreet, Karlie tossed
the paper into the trash can, but Brian zeroed in on her action.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“It’s nothing,” Karlie replied,
shooing her hand and moving away from the can.
Brian squinted his eyes. He was not
buying her act. He bent his six-foot-five frame and pinned his light brown eyes
on her face. “Your eyes are puffy. Have you been crying?”
“No.” She shook her head.
Brian studied her before walking over to
the trash can. He reached in and picked it up.
Karlie lunged toward him to get the paper
out of his hands. “What’re you doing? You can’t just come in here and rummage
through my trash!”
Brian held his arm above her head.
Karlie jumped to get the paper. “Brian,
give it to me. You’re so juvenile.”
He swayed it out of her reach.
“Considering it’s the only thing in the garbage, I wouldn’t say that was
rummaging. In fact, I was only searching for a piece of paper to stick my gum
in.”
“You’re such a liar, Brian Oakes,”
Karlie said. “You don’t have any gum in your mouth. You’re being nosy as usual,
and this is a severe breach of my privacy.”
“Whatever.” Brian unrolled the
paper.
Mortified, Karlie tromped over to her bed
and plopped down, not the least bit comforted by the plush Duvet covers.
Brian’s head moved from left to right as
he read the contents of the article. With a frown, he walked over to sit in the
chair by her computer desk.
She saw his brow furrow and his lips curl
and knew that he had gotten to that part.
“Who writes this trash and gets away
with it?” In a fit of rage, Brian shredded the paper and hurled it back into
the trashcan. “I hope you don’t believe any of that filth written solely to
gather a following of people who have nothing better to do with their time.”
Karlie’s eyes widened. Brian was so
articulate. He had an artful way of manipulating words. He would make a great
journalist, or was it attorney? He had changed his major four times already.
He jumped to his feet and in two
strides sat next to her on her bed. With a gentle touch, he placed one large
hand under her chin. “Karlie, I hope you didn’t let that get to you. Fat Brenda
is just doing her job. She’s stuck doing that because she’ll never have your
figure, your finesse, and your future.”
“Great alliteration,” Karlie said
with a smile. She shrugged. “She wasn’t the only critic though—and she’s not
fat. Other reviewers said I had no right singing ‘How Great Thou Art.’ They
said I hadn’t been through anything. I have a silver spoon in my mouth. Blah .
. . blah . . . blah . . .”
“Let them talk,” Brian said.
“Karlie, they don’t know you. They’ve forgotten your pain of losing your
mother. Because they don’t know better, they feel your being stinking rich is
the solution to all your problems.”
Karlie winced. It was true that she
didn’t have to struggle financially, but it didn’t mean that she didn’t have
struggles. When Winona Franks had approached her about launching her singing
career, Karlie had fought tooth and nail. Winona had been her mother’s friend
and longtime manager. Winona was a business whiz and under her guidance,
Tiffany had made more money than she knew how to spend. Winona was ready to
take Karlie under her wing.
Karlie agreed to do the well-known song
as a trial to get her feet wet. Never had she imagined how much the rejection
would hurt. Never had she realized how much she wanted it. She wanted to sing.
“Come on.” Brian stood. “Grab a
jacket. Let’s go get you some ice cream.”
“I don’t know if I feel up for ice
cream. Why don’t we just go downstairs to the Espresso Bar or even Margaux?”
She especially loved Margaux’s alcove. The floral hangings gave the place cozy
warmth.
Besides, she had another reason why she
wanted to stay close. Karlie didn’t want to miss Jamaal if he decided to check
in on her.
“Why? Is Jamaal coming over?” He raised
his eyebrows.
Brian could be so astute at times it
was scary. Karlie gave him a playful slap. “Shut up. It’s not what you think.
Get your mind out of the gutter, Brian. We’re saved. You know that.”
He looked heavenward. “Yes, I know.
But you guys have been dating since you were fifteen. That’s a long, long time
for a couple to be abstinent.”
“And your point is?” Karlie arched
her eyebrow.
She and Jamaal vowed to remain celibate
until marriage. It was difficult, but they knew they could do it—with God’s
help.
“You mean to say Jamaal hasn’t tried
anything in all these years? And you’d better not lie to me because I’ll know.”
Karlie squirmed, not wanting to
stretch the truth but not wanting to confess either. Instead, she attacked.
With her nose in the air, she said, “Not every man behaves like a Neanderthal
like some people.”
“Ouch.” Brian grinned and stepped
back. He held up his hand. “Take it easy, young one. I meant no harm.”
“Don’t call me young one. You’re
only two years older than me. Twenty-three is not old.”
“Yes, but I’ve been through a lot.”
That was true. Brian had grown up
with two parents who made him feel as if he did not matter. As a result, he had
been a juvenile bordering on delinquent until Karlie’s mother had rescued him
from himself.
Karlie touched his arm and gave him a
squeeze. “Yes, Brian, but you’ve turned your life around.”
He looked at her with a penetrating
gaze.
For the first time in their six-year
friendship, Karlie felt awkward. This strange tension had been happening
between them of late, and she could not explain it. Not that she was trying too
hard to figure it out.
She drew a deep breath and grabbed her
sweater from the back of the chair. Maybe going out would not be such a bad
idea. “I’ve changed my mind. Let’s go to Yooglers. I’ll text Jamaal and tell
him where to meet us.”
Yooglers Frozen Yogurt was located on 791
Broadway and was a quick seven-minute walk.
He smiled. “Yooglers sounds good.”
Karlie noted Brian’s pearly whites and
felt a small shift. What was happening here? How come she never noticed that
Brian had such a beautiful smile before? In fact, he was fine. Super fine.
Confused by her sudden thoughts, Karlie
distracted herself by putting on her sweater. They exited her building on Eighth
Street and walked toward Broadway and made a left.
She shoved her hands into the
pockets of her jean jacket. The March air felt nippy. Spring was taking its
time arriving this year. She and Brian made small talk but concentrated on
navigating their way through the busy streets of Manhattan. It was a few
minutes shy of nine p.m. when they arrived.
Brian held the door open, and Karlie
breathed in the smell of cookies, candies, chocolate, and syrups, not to
mention yogurt. She rubbed her hands together in anticipation.
“What are you having this time?” Brian
asked.
Every time Karlie went to Yooglers she
tried a new flavor. So far, she had had seven of their forty-six different
flavors, ranging from Cappuccino to Snickerdoodle.
“I think I’m getting the Fudge Brownie
Batter this time,” she said, wrinkling her nose. Glancing around the orange and
green establishment, she was glad there were only a few customers.
Brian headed toward the huge cow on the
wall, near the entrance to the play area.
“Don’t even think about touching those
balls. They were meant for six-year-olds not a six-footer.”
He executed a U-turn and grabbed a
container. Brian chose the French Toast yogurt before trailing after her to get
toppings. He piled his cup high with brownie bites, crushed chocolate mints,
cheesecake bites, and marshmallow sauce.
Karlie stuck to just the yogurt. They
strolled to the counter to weigh their yogurt and paid for their treat before
finding a table.
Brian scooped a large spoonful of his
concoction and popped it into his mouth. After he licked the spoon, he said,
“As much as I hate to admit it, Karlie, I think Brenda what’s-her-name has a
point.”
Karlie plopped her half-eaten yogurt
on the table and glared at him. With careful enunciation, she asked, “What do
you mean ‘she has a point’?”
“Whoa. Hear me out.” Brian held both
hands up. “What I mean is that your voice is beautiful, but it lacks an edge—it
lacks the haunting tone of someone who has experienced some things.”
“You’re contradicting yourself,”
Karlie replied. “What about all that talk back at my place, when you said . . .”
She looked around and lowered her voice. “What about when you said that losing
my mother is tough and all that.”
“Yes, but you’re the quintessential
poster girl.” Brian took another scoop of his treat. He pushed Karlie’s yogurt
back toward her.
After a couple seconds, she dug in.
“What’s wrong with being a good girl, Brian?”
“Nothing, but it’s boring,” he said. “No one
cares about the good girl. You’re a yawn. You’ve got to get some edge. Do
something crazy—out of this world—you know, let more people notice you. Get to
know you. You’ve got to get out of your mother’s shadow. You can’t be Tiffany
Knightly’s daughter. You’ve got to be you—Karlie. Who is she anyway?”
Karlie’s mouth popped open. She did
not know how to answer. She was still searching for her identity. “I’m—I’m me.”
Brian yawned for effect. His point
hit home.
Karlie used her spoon to flick a dollop
of frozen yogurt toward his left cheek.
He laughed, swiped at it with his thumb,
and tasted it. “You need to do some crazy stuff and post it to YouTube. You
know like Miley Cyrus twerking all over the place.”
Twerking was the name of the dance move
where young ladies jiggled their rear ends in a sensual, suggestive manner.
Karlie splayed her hands. “You can
forget about that. I’m not twerking or doing all that crazy nonsense. I’m a
church girl, and I like it.” She folded her arms in stubborn protest.
“I didn’t mean for you to shake your
booty and post for the world to see—although, I would like to see that.” Brian grinned.
Karlie wasn’t amused.
He hoped to redeem himself. “Karlie, all
I am asking is when are you going to stop being and start living?”
Karlie knew her eyes were wide. “I am living.” She slid her chair away from the table.
Brian leaned over. “You need to try
things—mudding, parasailing, snorkeling—you know, atypical adventures for a
black woman.”
“That sounds crazy. I’m not trying to kill
myself. You should know me better to even suggest that.”
“I do know you better, which is why I’m
suggesting you step out of your comfort zone. You won’t be killing yourself.
You’d be living. And stop looking at me as if I have horns on my head.”
Karlie propped her elbows on the
table and rested her head in her hands. “I’m looking at you that way because
your idea is borderline certifiable. How do you propose I do all these
adventures? I’m in school, or did you forget that pertinent fact?”
Brian finished his yogurt. He
reached for hers and ate it. “Like the use of the word pertinent, by the way. But, I digress.” He tossed the empty containers
into the trash receptacle. “I’ve already thought of that, and I have a quick
and easy solution.”
Karlie leaned in to hear his option.
“You need to take a semester off.”
Her mouth hung open. “You must be
out of your mind. My dad would hit the roof if I fixed my mouth to tell them
that. He’s not like your dad who was cool with you taking a year after high
school to backpack through Europe. He has plans—I mean, I have plans for my life.”
“Aha. Your own words betrayed you. You
are operating off everyone else’s plans and expectations.” He waggled a finger
at her. “You, my friend, are a people pleaser.”
Karlie wondered what was wrong with doing
the right thing. Brian made her sound boring. “I’m not pleasing anyone but
myself.”
Brian waved his hands dismissively. “You’re
in denial, Karlie. You’re all about making everyone happy. You need to do this
and shake things up a little. Neil would be fine with it—eventually. We both
know you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, just as your mother did.”
Neil and Tiffany had been best friends.
Tiffany trusted him with all her secrets and with her past pain. He had been
the last person to see her mother alive.
Karlie could not believe she was even
continuing this conversation with Brian. Nonetheless, she asked, “And what
about Jamaal? There’s no way he’s going to take time off from school, and I’m
not about to do this by myself. So, noway, nohow.”
“Yes, way. And I’ll tell you how.
I’ll take a leave myself. I’ll be with you.”
Karlie narrowed her eyes. “And what
about Charlie, or Nikki?” She hid a smirk.
Brian shrugged. “They know the deal. I
have a no-commitment clause with all my women.”
Karlie shook her head at Brian’s
dismissive tone. “I don’t understand how you manage to convince two adjunct
professors to date you at the same time without pulling each other’s hair out.”
He patted his stomach. “It’s my duty to
spread love in the world.” Then he got serious. “Say the word, and I’m all
yours.”
Chapter Three
“What will I do while you’re gone?”
Charlotte Hollingsworth moaned before kissing Brian’s chest. Her light British
accent tingled his ears.
He swatted her on the butt. “I’m sure
you’ll be fine.”
“I know I won’t,” Nikki Thatcher pouted.
Spooned between two voluptuous
women, Brian lay on his back on his king-sized bed in his spacious one-bedroom
apartment. While other students had to share suites, Brian’s parents had hooked
him up in style.
One auburn-colored head and another
dark-haired head graced each arm. He crossed his legs. What a place to be. “I’m sure neither one of you will suffer with your choice
of men. Besides, I’m not going anywhere until the end of May.”
Nikki’s hand grazed his body. She gave
him a sly smile. “We’ll keep you busy till then.”
“How did I get so lucky to have both of
you?” Brian mused, bobbing back and forth between the two of them. Honestly, if
he could merge the two of them into one being, he would have the perfect woman.
Knowing him, however, he would still find something wrong. The problem was they
were not a certain someone, who would remain nameless.
“It isn’t luck,” Charlie said. “It’s
called skill. This has been one of the most satisfying eight months of my
life.”
Nikki kissed his cheek. “I agree.”
“I need to help Karlie,” Brian explained
for the third time.
Nikki shifted to rest her head in his
arms. “What does she have that we don’t?”
Before he could answer, Charlie stood.
“I’ve got to use the bathroom and head back to my dorm. I have papers to
grade.”
“She’s my best friend,” Brian said to
Nikki, once Charlie closed the door to the bathroom. “Karlie is like a sister
to me.” He swallowed.
Liar.
Brian ignored the inner voice. He wasn’t
ready to delve into those emotions.
Nikki snorted. “Please. I don’t believe
you two never smashed.”
Brian turned to face her. “We’re friends.
It is possible for a male and female to be platonic.”
Charlie opened the door and caught the
tail end of the conversation. “What are we talking about? Let me guess,
Karlie?”
Nikki sat up, unashamed of her nakedness.
Eyeing her, Brian knew she had no reason to be. Her body was well toned from
hours in the gym. “Yes. He’s trying to convince me, or rather himself, that
they’re just friends.”
Charlie wiggled into her jeans and
searched under the bed for the rest of her clothes. Though the lights weren’t
on, the moonlight provided enough light to help in her search. Nikki dressed as
well.
“You’re leaving too?” Brian asked.
The Puerto Rican beauty faced him. “I
have a practicum at five-thirty in the morning and two classes to teach in the
afternoon. I need my rest because you wore me out. I can’t be next to that soft
butterscotch skin and not want more.”
It was half-past eleven, and Brian
cracked a self-satisfied smile. Another satisfied customer. He looked at
Charlie. Or, rather, two
satisfied customers.
His cell rang. Karlie’s face flashed on
the screen. Brian sat up and swiped to answer. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
Brian waved off the two women who blew
him kisses. His mind was now preoccupied with the other person on the line. He
swung his legs to the floor and switched on the small bedside lamp.
“It’s almost midnight, so this is not
nothing.”
“Did I disturb you?” Karlie asked. “I
didn’t even think that you might have company.”
He heard the slight hesitation in her
tone and quickly reassured her. “I did, and they’re gone. Get on with it.
What’s on your mind?”
Karlie sighed. “I can’t sleep. Winona
called me. The record label isn’t sure they want to back my next project after
such lackluster reviews.”
“That’s why I told you to start a YouTube
channel. Once your stunts go viral, that will all change. Believe me.”
Another dramatic sigh resounded through
the line. “I guess.”
“Where is your faith, Christian woman?”
Brian asked. “You’re always telling me about God, and how He can do anything.
Why can’t He do this for you?”
Karlie chuckled. “Not you voluntarily bringing God into the conversation. I’m usually the one trying to
convince you to trust Him.”
Brian smiled. “Well, He must be growing
on me.” He stood. Ugh. His lower back hurt. Uh-oh, he knew what that meant. While
Karlie rambled about telling Jamaal and her parents about their plans, Brian
ambled over to his closet. It boasted a huge mirror so he could investigate
what was on his back. Sure enough, he saw the beginnings of an outbreak. Brian
groaned, knowing what was coming next.
“Brian? Are you listening to me?”
Huh.
What did she say? His brain couldn’t recall. “I got a little distracted for a
second. Repeat your last sentence.”
“I said that I’m meeting up with Jamaal
tomorrow to talk. I told him about my taking a semester off, and he wasn’t too
thrilled.”
“Yeah, I saw him at the gym, and we
talked about it. I tried to persuade him to tag along, but he shut me down.”
Brian wandered into his bathroom and
opened a drawer. Rummaging around, he searched for his topical cream. It had
been months since his last outbreak, and he had foolishly believed that he had
been cured.
“I . . . Maybe this isn’t a good idea . .
.”
He could almost visualize her playing
with the bridge of her nose. That was her habit whenever she was deep in
thought or unsure about something.
Brian put the phone on speaker and
unscrewed the cap to his prescription ointment. “Karlie, there’s a time when
you have to be decisive. The last thing you want is to look back at your life
and have regrets. Consider this an adventure before you and Jamaal settle down
to the proverbial white picket fence with two-point-one children.”
Karlie’s laughter echoed in the small
space. “Thanks for being a good friend to me.” She emitted an unladylike yawn.
“I’d better get some sleep. Professor Stewart does not tolerate tardiness. Her
words, not mine.”
Brian saw The end sign flash across his screen. He twisted his body to get a look at the red
blister on his lower back. With deft maneuvering, he applied the ointment. Then
he washed his hands and trudged over to his bed. He lay on his stomach not
wanting to soil the five hundred-dollar linens Patricia had insisted on
purchasing when she decorated his space.
Psoriasis. How he hated the disease. He’d
been twenty-one when he had suffered his first outbreak. At first, Brian had
thought it was a rash or an insect bite, but then debilitating pain followed.
That was when he had called his mom. Patricia referred him to a dermatologist
who slapped him with the diagnosis. He had researched for hours to learn more
about the incurable immune attack.
To make matters worse, Brian had
psoriatic arthritis, which is why he felt such pain. Besides his lower back,
his feet flared up sometimes. Lucky for him he could hide it. And he did.
No one except his mother knew about his
psoriasis. None of the women Brian had been with knew, and he planned to keep
it that way. The condition was not contagious so he was not worried about
spreading it to anyone. But he was afraid. Afraid of being scorned and
rejected.
Brian touched his lower back. His
fingertips told him that this was a small flare-up. Relief seeped through him.
That meant he would be able to function. He would know in a few hours if he
would make it to his eleven o’clock class. Sometimes, the pain would become so
unbearable that he cried like a baby.
Brian curled onto his side. He took deep
breaths to relax his body and mind. He knew from experience that he needed to
rest. With quiet determination, he closed his eyes.
“Lord, please,” he whispered into the night.
No one knew he prayed. It was always just
those two words, but Brian prayed. When it came to his condition, he had no
other choice.
Copyrighted (2015, by Michelle Lindo-Rice)
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