Tainted Black - Williams Shanora - Страница 54
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That day, I believe Theo was out of his damned mind. He got a tribal wave tattooed above his left collarbone, close to his neck. I instantly knew the meaning of it before he could explain.
“Why?” I whispered when we left the shop and met up to Ol’ Charlie in the parking lot. “Why would you do that for me?”
“Because the ocean is our place,” he murmured, his body close, his hand cupping the back of my neck. “The sea will always remind me of you.”
Ink. Dark, beautiful, permanent ink would forever remind him of me. I wanted a copy for keepsake. I’d contemplated getting something similar one day, maybe when everything wasn’t so intense. His artist was a good one, but he was very strict about his sketching. He didn’t want anyone copying his work, and he had even signed the rough draft and final sketch of Theo’s dark wave. Too bad Theo had signed a contract that clearly stated he couldn’t get the drafts or the finals. His shop had some crazy rules, but their high quality made up for it.
I begged. Theo begged, but it didn’t work. He told us the tattoo on his arm was all we needed—that he never gave his drafts or sketches away. He was just being a jackass. Theo said he’d get a copy for me—that the Blacks always got their way and Rob would regret not giving it to him the first time. It wasn’t that serious, but to see his determination was sinfully delightful.
Maybe, after all this time, this was true love, or so I thought. Trixie called his cellphone later that night while we were tangled in the sheets. And before leaving, I lay on his chest, fighting the tears begging to be shed.
There wasn’t anyone I could talk to about this other than Margie, so I filled her in on everything. She understood our situation more than I thought she would, but her only response was to try and let go. I didn’t like the advice because we were trying. It was just too damn hard.
And to make matters, well… worse, I found her kissing my dad when I came home late one night from Theo’s. It really must have been one of his good days, because he groped all of Margie’s curves, holding tight, kissing like his life depended on it. I was shocked—never saw it coming.
I didn’t interrupt though. In fact, I found it kind of cute. Apparently, Margie heard or saw me going past the bedroom because later on that night, she came into my room with one of my dad’s robes on, her cheeks flushed.
I tried so hard not to snicker as she quietly shut the door behind her. “So… um… how long?”
She blushed, her face cherry red now. “A while now, sweetie. About a week after you came home.”
“Wow,” I breathed, stunned.
She walked my way, sitting on the bed beside me. “Believe it or not, I have loved your father for over thirty years.”
My eyes expanded. “You’ve known him for that long?”
She nodded. “Back in college, I met Richard first. He was in one of my computer classes. I’d always found him handsome, but I didn’t think a guy like him would be interested in a chubby Spanish girl like me. But he was very intrigued, even agreed to come study with me every Wednesday night.” She was tickled, grinning as she focused on my carpet. Then, her face straightened. “Your mother saw him during one of our study nights. I purposely scheduled on Wednesday nights in his dorm because I didn’t want her to see him. Your mom is a… very envious person. There was one night when they were doing plumbing on Richard’s hall and the library was closed due to reconstruction. We were left with no choice but to go back to my dorm room. Well, I had no choice. He kept begging me to see it, and I didn’t want to keep telling him no. So, we got there… and Bonnie was laying right on the bed. I didn’t expect her, but just like that”—she snapped her fingers—“she stole him away from me.”
“Seriously? Why would she do that if she knew you were interested?” I was angry about that.
Margie shrugged. “Like I said, she was a very envious woman. She hated when I had something she didn’t. She swore she was my friend, but whenever I got a new pair of shoes or met a guy that really liked me, she’d either rain on my parade or do something to get the guy to notice her.”
I grimaced, not at Margie but at my mother’s behavior. “Ew, Margie, why did you even stay friends with her?”
“It wasn’t for her, sweetie. It was for Richard.”
I blinked.
“See, I had never expressed myself to Richie the way I’d always wanted to. I dreamed of telling him how I felt and then having him tell me something just as great in return—maybe even better—but I was only dreaming. Richie fell for your mother, and she stuck around because she learned he had inheritance from grandparents he’d never met, and would soon be taking over their accounting and banking business. Bonnie came from nothing, so she stuck with a man that could give her any and everything.”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything to Dad?”
She chewed on her bottom lip, perplexed as she zoned out. “Because… for a few years he was happy. And by the time I had the courage, it was already too late. They were getting married. Trust me, Bonnie always knew I loved your father, which is why she tried to string me along by having me take care of him during these rough times. She knew I wouldn’t say no—she knew I would stick around because I love Richie. I care for him, and I know exactly what he needs and what he deserves. Basically, she handed me her leftovers. When I told you that your father worked hard and could hardly be there for you, that was because of Bonnie. She made him slave for her to have continual income, threatening divorce—something he didn’t want. She made him take international jobs, not giving a damn if he was around to watch you grow up. I got his letters. His calls. He was always upset with Bonnie, and from what I saw, she didn’t even care.”
Margie crossed her arms, shaking her head.
I dropped mine, ashamed that I’d even come from such a woman. Not that I didn’t already know she could be selfish, but I didn’t think she’d land a blow that low—especially towards a woman so nice.
“You mom has her qualities. Like you said, she isn’t all bad. But… like I said. She will always put herself first, even before her own child.”
I was saddened to hear about Mom’s true colors, and the more and more I thought on it, the more I realized how glad I was that Margie was around and my mother wasn’t. Margie deserved my dad, and he deserved her. He deserved a woman that gave instead of someone that just took, snatched, and then ran with his heart and soul. Margie patiently swept up the pieces, restoring his happiness.
I talked to Margie a lot, more about myself and my situation with Theodore than anything else. Unfortunately, Sterling was still around when I filled Margie in on my hectic taboo ordeal. High school students were out for summer break, which gave him ample time to work from home. He worked a lot at the desk in the den, but I didn’t realize that was his place of peace until I told Margie all about my complications. He was only a room away.
That night, about two hours after I asked her what I should do, Sterling came up to my room. He knocked first, which I was glad for. When he stepped in, I drew my knees to my chest, swallowing hard as he shut the door behind him. I was a little terrified of this guy. All I got from him the past two and a half weeks were odd stares and weird vibes.
Before he made it too far, he held his hands up in the air innocently. “You don’t have to be scared of me, you know?”
“You weird me out,” I admitted.
He laughed, finding my rapid response funny. “I… have a bad habit of not being able to express myself. I can be very… weird, as you put it.”
Ya think?
I shrugged.
“Listen, um… I heard you talking to my mom in the kitchen. I know, I know, I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping again,”—he held his hands up as I started to tell him off—“but I was in the den, and lately I’ve been a little worried about you.”
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