Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Okay, Miss Forever. Let’s get on home then. I got a present I want to give you.
DESSI
What is it?
TILDA
Let me get you home and you’ll see.
When they arrive at their apartment, Dessi is practically hopping around with anticipation. Tilda laughs, makes her sit on the bed and close her eyes. When Dessi opens them, Tilda presents her with a jewelry box.
DESSI
Tilda! No, you didn’t!
TILDA
I saw it and thought of you right away. Open it.
When Dessi opens the box, a ballerina pops up and dances to the tune “You Made Me Love You (I Didn’t Want to Do It).”
DESSI (BLINKING BACK TEARS)
Oh, it’s beautiful, Tilda.
TILDA
I figure when you off in Paris and London and all them places, you gonna be dripping in jewels. Pearls and sapphires and such. Put ’em all in this jewelry box. Then every time you pull out one of them big ol’ diamonds, you’ll think of me.
DESSI
I love it, but I won’t need diamonds or a jewelry box to remind me of you.
Dessi presses Tilda’s hand to her chest.
DESSI
You’ll be right here with me, in my heart. I could never forget you, and I’ll be back before you know it. Me and you, together again.
Dessi kisses her cheek, and a sad look passes over Tilda’s face, but she forces a smile and nods.
DESSI
You’re my girl and I love you, Tilda.
TILDA (SMILING WITH TEARS IN HER EYES)
Love you, too, Bama.
THIRTY-NINE
Verity
Monk: Hey. When are you back in town?
The text sends a little jolt to my heart. Monk and I have texted some over the last week, wished each other a Merry Christmas, that kind of thing, but there hasn’t been much contact otherwise. And, God, it’s been a long two weeks not seeing him.
Me: I’m already back! The aunties were attending watch night service at church, and that wasn’t exactly how I saw myself ringing in the new year.
Monk: You didn’t go to New York to hang out with Mel and Tessa?
Me: Tessa decided to go home and spend time with her family.
I was actually relieved when Tessa told us that. Her family gets on her nerves, riding her about meds and checking on her incessantly the way my aunties do with me, but I think that could be exactly the kind of stabilizing force Tessa needs right now.
Me: And Mel has a new guy who’s taking up a lot of her time. She’s in Bali with him.
Monk: Bali sounds fantastic. Better than being back here working already.
Working? Here?
Leaning against my kitchen counter, I call him right away.
“’Sup?” He answers on the first ring.
“You’re back in LA? You didn’t go home for Christmas?”
“I went, but I didn’t stay long. I never spend the full break there. I was in the VA on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and then your boy was out. I saw the fam, though.”
“How was everyone?”
“Mom and the rest are good. My dad has gout.”
“Ewww.”
“Damn, Vee.” He chuckles. “It’s not flesh-eating bacteria.”
“Sorry. Not, ewww.” I breathe out a laugh. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant… one of my cousins had gout and his got bad. Is your dad in much pain?”
“Not too much, but if he doesn’t follow doctor’s orders, it’ll get worse. On several things actually. Old man’s prediabetic. Got high blood pressure. I’m like, dude, get it together.”
Beneath the lightness of his words lurks a note of concern.
“You worried about him?” I ask.
“Not worried, necessarily. It just puts things in perspective. He always seemed larger than life when I was growing up. I know he’s human, but the older he gets, the more I’m reminded he’s mortal. He won’t always be around.” A beat passes before he goes on. “I thought a lot about what you said. You’re right. The man made mistakes. We all do. My mom managed to forgive him, so maybe I should try a little harder, too. I’m not big on resolutions, but I have promised myself I’ll spend more time with him this year.”
I’m happy for him, and inordinately pleased if I had anything to do with this development. My feelings for my own father are so complex, I have no room to judge. It’s hard to separate my resentment for what he did from the reality of what I know he was battling since I have my own challenges. Only he never had the benefit of a therapist, a psychiatrist, medication, support groups. Yeah, every time I want to give that man grief, I find myself extending grace. Dr. Palmer says I should learn to do that for myself. Easier said than done.
“You mentioned a therapist before,” I say. “That surprised me.”
“Am I that regressive? Backward? Emotionally unavailable?”
“Which should I address first?” I ask teasingly.
“Come over here and say that to my face.” His deep voice drops to a guttural threat and promise.
“I feel like the subtext is ‘come over here and say that to my dick.’”