Chapter Twenty-One
1233 Words
Chapter Twenty-One
Adalia sat on the front porch in the dark and stared up at the stars. The night sky was free of clouds, and the streetlamp outside her dad’s house had shorted, so she could see it all.
There was Orion’s Belt and the moon, the Southern Cross and Scorpio.
Her brother, Michael, had a strong interest in the stars and had lectured her on the constellations for hours on end. As a result, she knew a whole bunch of stuff about the stars she didn’t particularly care for, but it came in handy on a night like this.
The commotion of the past week was over, the cops had cleared off the culprits and no one had died, by some small miracle.
A man yelled in an apartment across the road, and the sharp c***k of glass breaking echoed across the street, but she didn’t get up and go inside. That kind of thing was normal and she needed this.
The bakery was gone and she’d rejected Trent, but it was for the best.
She’d find some course of action, but not right then. She needed a few days, weeks, months to recuperate after this s**t. He’d nearly destroyed her.
She’d nearly destroyed herself with her failures.
“You coming in, girl?” Her father stood behind her, casting a shadow on the pavement in front of her. A daddy-shaped shadow. She flashed back to her childhood, to playing on the street and laughing with her brother.
It’d seemed so simple back then. Play, go to school, stay out of trouble, miss Momma. And now it was none of those things except for the last one when she let it get to her.
“No, I think I’ll stay out a while longer.”
“All right, but I’m going to bed. You be safe out here,” he said, and the shadow’s overgrown head swiveled left and right, checking the street.
“Thanks, Dad, I’ll be okay.”
He turned and disappeared into the house, but left the front door open, just in case.
Adalia smiled in spite of the ache in the center of her chest. At least she had her dad and her brother if he ever deigned to visit again. She didn’t blame him for staying away – they’d never felt they belonged in the hood.
A figure appeared at the end of the street and strolled up it in a familiar gait. She froze and stared, then shook her head. The man stopped at the end of the pathway and stared up at her.
“What do you want?” she asked without anger, more with interest.
“I heard what happened, baby,” DeShawn said. “I wanted to check you was all right, after that bakery thing didn’t work out.”
“Way to bring it to the forefront, DeShawn,” she replied, giving him a sarcastic thumbs up.
“Whatcha mean?”
“Nothing,” she said then stared at the three stars of Orion’s Belt. He sidled up the pathway and sat down on the porch beside her, hiking up his jeans and balancing both forearms on his knees.
“I miss you, girl,” he said then brushed her earlobe with his forefinger. There were no chills of desire from that action, but there weren’t shivers of revulsion either.
“Do you know what that is?” she asked, pointing up at the sky, and he grunted his confusion. “I thought so.”
“That a satellite or somethin’?”
“That’s Orion’s Belt. Those three stars that are kind of in a weird row. They’re called Orion’s Belt, and they’re part of the constellation of Orion.”
“Aight,” he replied, but he didn’t ask any question about the constellation.
She told him anyway. “Did you know that the Pyramids of Giza are perfectly aligned with Orion’s Belt?”
“No s**t,” he said, and a hint of awe entered his tone. It satisfied her that she’d gotten through to him in some small way, and made him think further than the next bong, a feat she’d been unable to accomplish throughout the duration of their relationship.
“Yeah, no s**t. That’s symmetry. Dreams aligned with reality, working in perfect harmony to create something amazing, something no one will ever forget.”
“So,” he said, then squeezed her thigh, “maybes some day you find your Orion’s Belt, Dalie.” Another pet name he’d used for her during their time together. Agony sprouted in her chest and took such strong root that she lost her breath.
She buckled over and hugged her knees, and DeShawn stroked her back with care.
“You okay, baby?”
“No,” she murmured, overcome by the need to scream or cry. She didn’t let it out... she wouldn’t show him that weakness, no matter how much it hurt her to keep it all inside.
“I wanna help you.”
“You can’t help me, DeShawn, you can’t even help yourself.”
“What that mean?” He stopped stroking and sniffed. She straightened slowly, and the pressure around her heart loosened incrementally.
“Have you quit smoking w**d?” she asked outright because she was past the point of being his sweetheart, his soft girl.
DeShawn flinched and didn’t answer the question, which was answer enough for her.
“I think you should go, DeShawn. Thanks for stopping by and trying to be nice, but I don’t need anything but alone time, right now.”
“You still messing around with that white guy?”
Adalia’s pain redoubled and her back curved under the weight of it. “No,” she murmured.
He nodded and pouted his lips. “Thought so. That kinda guy ain’t for you, baby.”
“Why’s that?”
DeShawn shrugged, opened his mouth then closed it and grinned. “He just ain’t, take my word for it, girl.”
“I can’t take your word for anything. I can’t trust you.” Or anyone else.
“Yeah, you can.” DeShawn moved closer, until their hips touched, and slipped his arm around her waist. “I want you back, Dalie, I can’t live wit’out you.”
Adalia’s heart pined for affection, but this guy wasn’t it. He wouldn’t give her what she needed, and he deserved better than to be led on by her. It wouldn’t be fair to him or her.
“No, DeShawn, I don’t want to be with you or anyone, right now.” She tried to move away but he held her tight and she couldn’t squirm away. She didn’t have the energy for a fight either. “Let me go, DeShawn. We can talk about this another time, but not tonight, okay? I can’t handle it right now.”
“Why not?” He still didn’t move off.
“Because my daughter told you so.” Her dad strolled onto the porch and glared at DeShawn. “You want to start something you can’t finish again, boy? I suggest you get off my porch and away from my house before I call the damn cops.”
DeShawn hopped up and moseyed down the stairs trying to look cool. He raised his hand but didn’t look back. “I’ll call you, baby.”
Adalia didn’t have the strength to tell him not to. She didn’t care about him or anything else, only about going inside, flopping down on her old bed and sleeping the pain away.
“Are you all right, my girl?” Her father offered her a hand, and she took it then rose to her feet.
“I don’t know anymore, Daddy,” she said, then burst into tears. He wrapped his arms around her and made the cooing noises he’d used the night her mother had died.
“Everything will be fine, baby girl. In the end, everything will be fine.”
Adalia sniffed and he walked her inside and to her bedroom.
“How do you know that, Dad?”
“I just do.”
He closed the door and let her get some rest, but she tossed and turned late into the night, Trent’s gorgeous face swimming in front of her eyes.
A vision of pain.
- Writer
