What's Done In the Dark(28)

I walked over and hugged her. She was caught off guard but finally hugged me back.

“I know I’m not there for Paula like I should be. It’s just . . . so hard,” I said.

She gave me a genuine smile. “Well, you’re there for Tahiry, right? And that’s good because I’m not the greatest with teens.”

“She’ll be okay,” I said. “You take care of Paula and the boys, and I’ll make sure Tahiry makes it through this.”

Charlene seemed happy with this proposal. So was I. Taking care of Tahiry was at least one promise that I could keep.





18


Paula


HOW IN THE WORLD DO you bury the man you love, especially when he’s only thirty-six years old? How was I supposed to smile as person after person came to offer condolences?

My house felt like Grand Central Station. I didn’t even know who all was here. The last few days had passed in a blur. I know Steven’s mom and brother had arrived yesterday. They’d gone to take his suit to the funeral home this morning. I simply couldn’t do it. My sister, Charlene, had come up from DC, but really, I couldn’t entertain any of them. I felt like I was just going through the motions.

Steven’s mother, Lois, a very poised, put-together woman, approached me. She was wearing a navy St. John pantsuit, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. Even in her grief she looked like royalty. I sat at the kitchen table with the blank piece of paper in front of me. I’d yet to formulate one word. “Sweetie, you should really let me do this,” she said gently.

“No, I need to,” I said, tugging the paper toward me. I didn’t mean to sound harsh. I liked his mom, I really did. And I knew she was grieving just like me, but I didn’t want her around right then. I didn’t want anyone around when I wrote my husband’s obituary. Well, except for the one person who understood my pain because she understood me. I couldn’t understand why she wasn’t here.

“I was just trying to help,” Lois said.

“She knows that,” my mom said, stepping forward to play peacemaker. “You know she’s stressed.”

Lois nodded, flashed a sympathetic smile, then walked off.

“Mom, did you call Felise?” I asked before she walked away as well.

My mom nodded. “I did. She said she’d be by here later. She sounded broke up herself.”

“She probably is. They did use to be best friends in college.”

My mom raised an eyebrow. “Umph.” I knew she never liked how close they were, but you’d think by now, she would have gotten over it. She didn’t believe in “man sharing,” as she’d called it. But I wasn’t sharing Steven. He was mine. He had been mine.

I understood if Felise was broken up, but she couldn’t be mourning nearly as much as I was. And I needed her here with me. We could share in our grief together.

“Let me see the phone.” I motioned to my cell phone, which was sitting on the counter. “I’m going to call her.”

“I just don’t understand,” my mother said, reaching for the phone. “You’re the one grieving, but you got to call her?” She rolled her eyes as she handed me the phone.

I called Felise and it actually rang three times, and just before it went to voice mail, Felise picked up.

“Hey, Paula, how are you?” Felise asked.

“Not too good. Trying to do this obituary.” I released a long sigh. “It would be nice if I had some help.”

She didn’t respond right away. “Where is your mom?”

“She’s here. Where are you?”

“I’m at home.”

Usually, I would’ve gotten an attitude with Felise, but I didn’t have the energy, so I said, “Felise, this is so hard. I can’t do this. I need you here. Where are you?” I cried. I knew I sounded like a blubbering fool.

“I, ah . . .”

“Please, Felise. I know this is hard on you, too. But you’re the only one who knows what I’m going through. His mom doesn’t know about the fight, and I . . . I just need you.”

She held back for a moment, then said, “Okay, okay. I’m on my way.”

“Thanks, Felise. See you in a bit.” I wiped away my tears, a sense of relief filling me because my best friend was on the way.

My mother stood there, a chastising look across her face. “What kind of friend do you have to beg to be there for you in your time of need?”

“I’m not begging her, Mama.” I waved my mom off. I wasn’t in the mood for her either. “Just please, go check on the kids, or make sure the guest room is ready for Lois, something.”

My mom threw her hands up. “Fine,” she said, stalking off. “But I’m gonna give Ms. Felise a piece of my mind.”