Diamond Life Page 13
“It was good seeing you, Jake,” Samantha said. She leaned in to kiss him, and Jake pulled away. He pointed at the door and said nothing else.
“You’re so rude,” Samantha said, opening up the car door. “I’m off for the next few days. But call me!” she said before slamming it shut.
Jake’s driver came back to the car. “Are we ready for home, sir?”
“No, not yet.”
Jake stumbled back into the restaurant and sat down in the chair he’d just left. His head was swimming, and he had to grasp the bar to stay seated. Another waitress came over with a cocktail napkin and beer nuts.
“Lily?” he asked, looking closer.
“Oh, hey.”
“I didn’t see you in here earlier,” said Jake. He ran his hands across his face, hoping to wipe the just-had-sex look away.
“I just got in,” said Lily. “Jack and Coke?”
Jake nodded.
“And then come back and talk to me.”
“I can’t. I’m working.”
“Take a break.”
Lily turned her head toward the bar and then looked back at Jake.
“A break . . .”
Jake nodded.
“Just for a minute.”
Lily sighed.
“I’ll go get your drink.”
It had been years since Jake had to wait for a woman. He honestly couldn’t remember a woman ever making him wait for more than three seconds. He checked his watch. It had been exactly ten minutes since Lily left to get his drink. How long did it take to make a Jack and Coke? Sam approached Jake with a glass in hand.
“Back for more so soon?” She placed the beverage down and smiled.
“What happened to Lily?”
“Oh, her shift was over.”
Jake smiled. He hadn’t been played out by a woman in over ten years. It was actually refreshing. She wasn’t getting another chance. But Jake was still impressed. He drained his drink, paid for it and went out to his car.
“Now,” he said to the driver. “Home.”
Lily could not relax. No matter how many times she did it, she couldn’t begin using the stents without becoming incredibly tense, which made the whole thing even harder to do. It was getting to the point where she was tempted to take a shot of Patrón before she started the process.
She went into the bathroom and gathered the supplies: lubrication, plastic stents in various sizes, and a plastic sheet to lay over her bed.
She spread the plastic over the bed and then laid down on her back on top of it. She brought her knees up and opened her legs wide. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. For ten minutes, she just tried to control her breathing. Finally, she took one of the plastic stents and covered it in lubrication. She held the stent up to take a good look at it. The hard plastic tube could have been mistaken for a dildo with its rounded tip and thick length. But the doctor had made it clear that a stent and a dildo weren’t the same thing and that she would have to use an actual stent for her weekly dilating.
Lily took the tip of the stent and leaned it against the top of her vaginal opening. She closed her eyes, exhaled, and pushed the stent inside. While holding it in place for a few minutes, Lily opened her eyes and looked up at the ceiling. After another minute, Lily pushed the stent in further, making sure not to move too quickly or push too deeply. Ten minutes later, she removed the stent and reached for the larger one. She lubricated it and laid back down. Again, she pressed the plastic inside her and held it in for as long as she could, pushing it in a small amount at a time. Her hands were shaking and sweaty as she struggled to keep the stent in without hurting herself. She could feel her muscles trying to force the stent out, and she tried again to relax her body and accept the foreign object inside her.
Lily tried to think about a man—a man who would accept her and love her and want to make love to her. The doctor told her that vaginal intercourse was not a substitute for using the stent. But Lily liked to think that being in a relationship with a man and having normal sex would have to help somehow.
She wanted to think about Idris Elba or Taye Diggs. But the only man who would come to mind was Jake. He always smelled like Ivory soap and brand-new leather. Even though he usually looked a hot mess, Lily still inhaled his scent and tried her best to hold on to it for moments like this.
Lily removed the second stent and inserted the last one, the largest of the three. It went in easier and she was able to hold it in longer.
Sex better be better than this . . . she mumbled to herself as she slowly pushed the stent inside her and held it firm. When the required thirty minutes of using the stents was done, Lily usually rushed up, eager to move on. But this time, for the first time since the surgery, she stayed put a little longer. She held the stent in place, imagining it wasn’t a hard plastic object but a warm, real flesh-and-blood man.
Jake was there in her bedroom. His shirt was open and he was unzipping his pants. He climbed on top of Lily and kissed her. She held him, guided him inside . . .
Lily’s nipples hardened and she felt her breath quicken. And then, she felt droplets of moisture leaking out of her vagina. For the first time, she’d lubricated herself. Her doctor had told her it would happen at some point, but she didn’t believe him. She slowly took out the last stent and then lay in bed quietly.
Hours later, at work, Lily stood behind the bar and filled orders without even thinking about them. Her mind was somewhere else entirely. On the outside, she joked and made small talk with her customers and coworkers. But inside, she was reflective and meditative. Samantha was on duty, talking her ear off while making drinks, but Lily could barely hear her.
“I shouldn’t have done it,” Sam said, shrugging her shoulders. “But I couldn’t pass up that opportunity.”
“Right,” Lily said.
“You weren’t even listening to me.”
“What?” Lily looked over at Sam. “You said you shouldn’t have done it.”
“I shouldn’t have done what.”
“Uh.”
“Jake!” Sam whispered. “Right here in the parking lot. So hot!”
“The rapper guy? With the beard?” Lily asked, holding her breath.
“Who else?” Sam turned around and leaned against the bar. “He’s such a whore.”
“No, he’s not,” Lily said quickly. “He’s just . . . hurt. Grieving. You know, his wife and all.”
“I knew him long before he married that chick. Trust me, Jake is as slimy as they come. Great piece of ass. But a total sleaze.”
Lily was just about to protest once again when Manny tugged her arm.
“Get in the break room,” said Manny, as he walked by the bar.
“What’s wrong?” Lily called out. Manny didn’t answer. She waved Samantha over to cover her section of the bar and walked to the back of the restaurant.
“We had a large group in here yesterday,” Manny said, not looking at Lily directly.
“I was off yesterday.”
“Yeah, I know. But they’ve been in here before. They asked for you specifically.”
Lily’s nostrils flared and she struggled to remain composed.
“Asked for me . . . by name?” Lily choked out.
Manny continued to look away from Lily.
“That’s the weird thing,” said Manny. “They just described you. Didn’t say your name.”
“Oh.”
“But they obviously know you. Very well.”
“I gotta get back to the bar . . .” Lily said, backing out of the room.
“Don’t move,” Manny said, pointing a finger at Lily.
Lily froze. Manny walked toward her with a sneer on his face.
“One of the guys said he knew you from back home. I thought you told me you were from Brooklyn?”
“I’ve lived in Brooklyn for years,” Lily said.
“But you’re not from Brooklyn, are you?” Lily was silent. Manny walked up closer to Lily and looked her over from head to toe.
Manny reached out a hand toward Lily’s breast, and she smacked his hand away.
“Don’t touch me!” Lily hissed.
“You nasty faggot,” Manny said, grabbing Lily’s hand and twisting it until she was on her knees.
“Get off me!” Lily screamed. “Somebody get back here, please!”
Manny crouched down and smacked his hand over Lily’s mouth.
“Shut up.”
Manny dragged Lily up to her feet and over to the break room door. He locked it and pushed Lily against the door.
“I knew something was weird about you.”
“Look. Just let me go.”
“Did you get your shit chopped off?” Manny asked, his eyes wide and spittle in the corners of his mouth.
“Manny.”
He twisted Lily’s arms harder around her back and tears squirted out of her eyes.
“Did you?”
Lily didn’t answer.
“I thought you were a lesbian the way you act like you were scared of dick,” Manny said.
“Let me go, Manny. Now.”
A strange look came over Manny’s face—a blend of disgust and curiosity. Lily’s heart began to beat hard in her chest. Not like this, she thought to herself. It cannot happen like this. Manny used one of his beefy hands to hold both of Lily’s hands together. With the other hand he slipped his hand under her skirt and began to move up her thigh.
“You got a hole in there?” Manny whispered, holding her arms tight. “I wanna see it.”
Lily summoned up every bit of strength she had and brought her knee up directly into Manny’s groin, connecting with his nuts with such force that she felt them flatten against her kneecaps.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god . . .” Manny sputtered as he dropped down to the ground. Lily threw open the door and sprinted through the break room and into the restaurant, nearly knocking over customers lined up three deep at the bar. At the front door, she pushed through and ran up Broadway, pumping her legs to move faster, faster, faster. She looked back just once and saw Samantha standing in the doorway of the restaurant, yelling out her name.
“Lily! What’s wrong? Where are you going?!”
Lily didn’t stop running until she got to the subway station. It was then that she realized that she’d left everything behind in the break room—her wallet, her shoes, everything. All she had was her cell phone, which she always kept in her back pocket.
Lily called Sam back at the restaurant and asked her to bring her bag to the subway station. Ten minutes later, Sam was there, out of breath.
“What the hell happened? And what did you do to Manny?”
“Thanks,” Lily said, grabbing her bag. “I gotta go.”
“Are you coming back?”
“No.”
“We get paid tomorrow. You want me to get your check?”
“Yes, please. Just hold it for me. I’ll call you.”
“Lily,” Sam said, reaching out to touch her arm. “Did Manny try to put his hands on you?”
Lily was silent.
“He tried that with another girl once and she smacked the shit out of him. You should really go to the owner. I’ll back you up. Don’t just walk away and let him get away with this again.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Lily shook her head vigorously.
“I just can’t. Look, I gotta go. I’ll call you. And thank you. I mean it.”
Lily was in the station before Sam could protest. She took the flower out of her hair and picked off the petals, tossing them to the ground as she waited for the train. She took the L to Union Square and then walked across the park to the W Hotel. In two hours, she had a new job and a new boss—a woman. She got her schedule for the new gig and treated herself to a taxi ride back to Brooklyn. At home, she took an extra-long shower, climbed onto her bed, and cried until her eyes had swollen up so badly that she couldn’t see.
On a balmy Monday morning, a strong breeze coming off the Blue Mountains, Ras awakened to an empty bed. His wife had left a note: At work. Come say hello. Before he got out of bed, Ras murmured a prayer. He rolled over and took out a small journal he kept near his bed and jotted down a few quick thoughts. Then he closed his eyes again to determine where his mind might take him today.
The feeling was still there. And it was even stronger than it was yesterday. He was perfectly happy at home in Jamaica, making beats and spending time with his wife and daughter. But he kept dreaming about flying to Newark Airport and driving to that gated community in New Jersey. He made love to his wife and felt ashamed at how little she turned him on. She was breathtakingly beautiful. But her soft kisses may as well have been from his mother. Two weeks before, he’d flipped his wife on her stomach, spread her legs roughly, and entered her. He grabbed her hair and squeezed her tight. She began to cry and Ras released her, petrified that he’d hurt her. She ran into the living room and slept on the couch, refusing to return to the bedroom.
Ras felt like a werewolf a few days from the next full moon, desperately not wanting to change but depressingly sure he wouldn’t be able to stop it. Ras grabbed the personalized cigarette lighter Josephine had bought him for their anniversary. He held the flame to his hand, as close as he could without burning himself. He’d read somewhere that Muhammad Ali held a lighter to his hand every time he felt the urge to be unfaithful. The heat was to remind him that hell would be the end result of doing his wife dirty. Ras closed the lighter and tossed it back to the nightstand. He went next door to the bedroom he had converted into an office. At the computer, he logged on to a travel website and booked two tickets to Miami and two nights at a hotel. As soon as he got the e-ticket numbers sent to his cell phone, he closed the laptop and breathed a sigh of relief. Ras showered, dressed, and went to the kitchen. He shooed away the housekeeper and cook who started fussing over him, muttering in heavily accented English. Ras made himself a slice of toast and found himself locked in a stare-down with the cook as he waited for it to pop up. The cook, a seventy-six-year-old woman from Cuba they all just called Cook, was fanatical about what she called her kitchen. It was Ras’s house, but it was somehow her kitchen. She liked everything just so, without a single cloth napkin or fork out of place. It was cute. But sometimes Ras just wanted to get a handful of pistachios without someone hovering nearby, waiting to pick up the shells. The bread popped up, fully out of the toaster, and in the air. Ras made a grab for it but too late. Cook caught the toast in midair and placed it on their finest china. She garnished the plate with perfectly formed roses made of butter, a few fresh strawberries, and orange slices.
“Thank you,” Ras said, a smile playing on his lips.
He went out of the sliding glass doors that opened to the backyard. Down the path, he could see women bustling around Josephine’s annex, shouting orders and drawing patterns out on large white tables.
Ras stood to the side, watching his wife. She was peering over the shoulder of a seamstress, giving feedback. And on her hip was baby Reina, laughing at nothing in particular and making raspberry sounds with her mouth. Occasionally, Josephine would notice the baby’s antics and tickle her under the chin or give her a kiss before going back to checking on her work.
The baby had really changed her. She grew taller, it seemed. There was a brightness in her eyes that he’d never seen before. The baby had made her whole in a way Ras never could.
Ras knew that Josephine was still self-conscious about being the adoptive mother. Little Reina looked nothing like either of her parents. She didn’t have Josephine’s pale skin and jet-black hair. And she didn’t have her father’s coal-black skin and broad nose. Everything on baby Reina was a kneaded mixture of features, all softened, like a sculptor smoothed out all her skin before she was born.
Today, as she stood barefoot on their property, her heavy hair tied back with a bright red scarf, Ras’s wife looked absolutely perfect.
“Good mo
rning,” Ras said, stepping into Josephine’s view.
Josephine smiled and gave Ras the baby. “You’re just in time, I have to return a call. Buyer from Nordstrom’s Bridal.”
“What else is on your agenda today?”
Josephine’s face broke out into a wide grin.
“Ras, what are you planning . . .”
“We have a flight leaving in five hours.”
“Where are we going?”
“Miami. We’ll be back Sunday night. Just a quick getaway.”
Josephine moved close to Ras and kissed him.
“Thank you,” she said. “That’s just what we needed.”
Josephine started mumbling under her breath about what she would need to pack for herself and the baby.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ras said. “This little one is not invited.”
“I’ve never been apart from her overnight!” said Josephine.
“Exactly. And she’s a year old; it’s time.”
“I . . . I’m not sure if I’m ready for that.”
“You still feel like you could lose her . . .”
Josephine hesitated.
“It’s not that . . . It’s just . . .”
Ras put the baby back in his wife’s arms.
“The car will be here to take us to the airport at four. Grandmére will be here at two.”
Ras kissed Josephine on the cheek and left her to her work.
It turned out to be one of those trips that Ras wanted to hold on to and replay over and over in his mind with total recall. They rented the triplex penthouse at the Shore Club, their favorite hotel in Miami. The residence included a private elevator, indoor pool and sauna, and Josephine’s favorite detail: 360 degrees of water views.
For two days, they didn’t leave the room. They dipped strawberries in chocolate, made love, caught up on reading, sat out on the balcony for a bit of sun, made love again, ordered up steak and lobster for dinner.
And then, for long stretches of time, they simply sprawled out on the sofa in the main room, holding hands and watching reruns of Will and Grace and Reba on Lifetime. Occasionally, Ras would try to reclaim the remote control and Josephine would keep it just out of reach, giggling and tucking the remote into various areas on her body. When it was time to go home, Ras and Josephine were relaxed and loose. They slumped back in the taxi. Ras didn’t try to tell the driver the fastest route to the airport. Josephine didn’t sit up, watching every other car for near-accidents. They simply lounged, smiling at each other and the memories they were leaving behind in Miami.