Loose Ends Part 1

Loose ends.

Electa Rome Parks.

It is in our lives and not our words that our religion must be read.

-Thomas Jefferson, 1743-1826.

Uncle Robert, 1925-1999.

In dedication to a strong, black man who lived it . . . Rest in peace.

I believe that you can do something in an instant that will give you heartache for life.-Author Unknown.

Acknowledgments.

Whew! Where do I begin? This past year has been a year of self-discovery, education, and forming ties with many new and talented writers. 2003 was an amazing year! Thank you, G.o.d, for giving me a measure of talent and the faith to have the ability to follow my dreams and find my true niche in life. You've been so good to me!

To the many avid readers, bookstores and book clubs that have shown me love, praise, support and encouragement on this wonderful journey, thank you; it means more than you'll ever know. You've truly touched my heart.

Special love goes to my husband, Nelson, and our two children. You guys gave me hugs, smiles, kisses, words of encouragement and, most of all, the s.p.a.ce, peace and quiet to complete this project. In my household, that's almost a miracle (smile).

Thanks to Tresseler Rome for her constant feedback and for always asking, "When are you going to finish that book? What's going to happen to . . . ?" In your own way, you proved you were proud of your big sister. Remember when we were small and I called you Tress the Pest (LOL)? This is your year, 2004.

To Laymon Taylor, DaJuan Crooms and Jordan Rome, thanks for playing a major role in my life. Your being here comforts my soul. Betty Rakestraw, you always go the extra mile. Sonya Morris and family, I know I can always call on you.

To other family members and friends (you know who you are), thanks for accepting me . . . for me. Buffie Stroud and Audrey Thomas, I appreciate and embrace the kind words of love and support.

Sharron Nuckles, you've been here from day one and you're still here. That says it all. Remember Columbia, S.C., and the house party? Girl, I'm still laughing. Thanks for being a true measure of real friends.h.i.+p. Plus, you know all my secrets (LOL).

Special thanks to my agent, Marc Gerald, and editor Janete Scobie for making everything run smoothly and providing a seamless transition into mainstream publis.h.i.+ng. I couldn't have done it without you. You guys are G.o.dsends.

Mardessa Smith, of Jadis Communications, Inc., thanks for helping me take it to another level. You didn't know pep talks were part of your package, did you? I told you I met you for a reason . . . I'm still waiting to do lunch.

Thanks go out to my network of writing buddies. I've learned so much from you guys. Thanks for keeping it real: Hope C. Clarke, Magdalene Breaux, Sybil Barkley-Staples, Tim Everett and Clark Kent. Keep hope alive!

I have to shout out a few bookstores: Marcus Williams at Nubian, Fanta at Oasis, Nzenga at African Spectrum and Nia at Medu Bookstore, thanks for opening your doors and your hearts and allowing me an opportunity to reach my wonderful readers.

Shout-outs to the following book clubs: Shani Book Club, Obsidian Book Club, I'm on My Way Book Club, Sister 2 Sister Book Club and It's a She Thang Book Club, thanks for your gracious hospitality and support.

Shout-outs to Rawsistaz, Sharon Hudson, Disilgold, A Nu Twista Flava, SORMAG, Alvin Romer, Booking Matters magazine, Wetaugust, APOO, Literary World, Flavah Reviewers, the Nubian Chronicles, Lori Holman (my number one fan) and TNC Reviews for providing a positive medium for the writing community.

Signing off in Atlanta, Georgia. Remember, the only place where your dream becomes impossible is in your own thinking. I think I'll go and write for a while. . . . I have this wonderful idea for a story about this woman who . . . Stay tuned. Peace and many blessings.

Much love, Electa.

March 2004.

Prologue.

I had the dream-or should I say nightmare-again last night. It was terrifying, as usual. I awoke with my thin white top drenched in sweat, my heart pounding away a mile a minute. In the dream I was fast asleep, lying on my back, totally nude, and he was straddling me.

When he awakened me from my sleep, roughly kissing me on my partially open lips and placing his hot, urgent tongue inside my mouth, I realized he was someone I should fear. At first I opened my mouth to scream, but then I looked into his brown eyes and they possessed me, hypnotized me with their power. It was as if he were looking into my soul-and I was lost.

I couldn't fight him. I slowly opened my trembling legs and he entered me with a savage fury. It was as if his very existence depended upon conquering my womanhood. Unbelievably, I desperately wanted him inside me, and my already moist walls eagerly accepted his ever-expanding manhood. His hungry mouth devoured my throbbing nipples, right as I was on the brink of sheer ecstasy. He pounded away at a frantic pace, his large hands encircling my neck and squeezing with all his might as he cried out, "Why, tell me why did you betray me?" Then I woke up . . . gasping for breath.

Mia.

I believe that no matter how bad your heart is broken, the world doesn't stop for your grief.-Author Unknown.

The nightmares ... they started again; it had been almost a year since the last one. Twelve peaceful months in which I almost, just almost, forgot the sheer terror of seeing him towering over me like some unstoppable, superhuman force. One year in which I felt normal and whole again because I had finally cleansed him from my system, from my soul.

Him being my ex-husband, Brice. It was still hard to get my mouth and mind to speak his name again. Speaking his name brought up too many memories, memories that I didn't want to deal with, memories that I couldn't deal with yet. And it has been five years since our divorce. Brice, the man I thought was my soul mate in life, my black knight in s.h.i.+ning armor, the love of my life, the man of my dreams. The man I gave my heart, mind and body to, willingly and unselfishly. Brice soon became more like the man of my nightmares.

The nightmares were so real, for a few minutes when I was between being asleep and waking up, I thought I was still with him. He still possessed me, and it scared me to death. Brice used to beat the s.h.i.+t out of me, whenever he wanted to, just because he could. Brice controlled me totally. Brice was a man who would lay down the law, his law, and expect me to follow it . . . or else.

I'm embarra.s.sed to say that it took me a while to end it. No, I didn't enjoy getting my b.u.t.t beaten or being treated like a child by a man who screwed me whenever and however he wanted to after he beat my a.s.s. I stayed because I thought he would change, that my love would make him change. And yes, I loved him with all my heart and soul. It took a trip to the hospital for me to wake up, literally, and see the light before it was too late. Still, he took a part of me that I could never get back. You see, he took my heart.

They say life is full of paradoxes. How could you both love and hate someone? I didn't know, but I did. As crazy as it might sound, a part of me would always love him. A part of me would always belong to Brice. That's sick, isn't it?

I couldn't ask for a better life now. In fact, I have been blessed with a wonderful husband, Christian, who adores me; I know that for a fact. Christian was Brice's best friend. Actually, they were more like brothers. It's all so complicated. The ties that bind. Christian gave up everything for me. I know; my life read like a soap opera. Now I'm mostly drama free.

Anyway, Christian and I have been married for three and a half, almost four years. It's been wonderful; our marriage is everything I never had with Brice. I love my husband so much! When Christian makes love to me, I feel it in his touch, his eyes and his soft, whispered words. We have a beautiful two-year-old daughter named Lyric. We named her Lyric because she brings joy and harmony into our lives. She has a head full of hair and green eyes just like her daddy. Yeah, life couldn't be better. This is the family I have dreamed of all my life.

If only the nightmares would stop. That way, I wouldn't have to see him again. And then I could forget.

As I lay on my back, stared at the cream-colored ceiling and made a mental checklist of the things I needed to do around the house the next day, I turned over onto my left side and smiled at my husband, Christian, asleep with not a care in the world. I could watch him sleep all night. Christian is such a handsome man and he's all mine. I'm not being boastful; I'm just keeping it real.

He's paper-bag brown, a few inches over six feet tall and roughly 225 pounds of pure man. Christian has the s.e.xiest pair of green eyes, bedroom eyes. With his broad shoulders and iron-board stomach, for a man thirty-eight years old his body could easily pa.s.s for that of a twenty-eight-year-old. His looks aren't why I love him so; I love him because of his heart. It's wide-open for me.

An hour earlier Christian had shown me how much he loved me in his own special way. Just thinking about that gave me goose b.u.mps up and down my arms and a familiar tingling between my legs.

Tonight was date night! At least once a month, Christian and I set aside one night, a Friday or Sat.u.r.day, to do something together, just the two of us. Christian and I had only been together a little over a year and a half when we had Lyric.

Anyway, date night didn't have to be anything extravagant. Usually it was something simple, like going to the movies. I love horror flicks. There's something about all that blood and gore. I know, call me bizarre. Sometimes we go dancing at one of the hot spots in Midtown or out for a nice dinner in Buckhead.

Christian and I took Lyric over to Mama's house for the night, where she's spoiled beyond reason. Lyric loves her grandmother to death and vice versa. I'm so proud of Mama. She has gotten her life back on track after a bout with alcoholism that lasted for years. That's another story in itself. AA, the twelve-step program and a strong will have made a big difference in Mama's life.

This evening, Christian had everything planned the minute I unlocked the door and walked into our stucco home from a hard day at work. It had been a busy day-a busy week-at Fairfield Elementary School. I am a third-grade schoolteacher to a bunch of hyperactive, rambunctious but adorable students . . . my children. However, at the end of the week I am ready to relax and unwind with my handsome husband. In our sunken living room, I was greeted with kisses by both Lyric and Christian. Lyric was finis.h.i.+ng up her snack of graham crackers and Christian was cleaning up the trail of crumbs that followed behind her.

As I slowly undressed and stepped into the fragrant, lilac-scented bubble bath he had waiting for me in our garden tub, Christian drove Lyric over to Mama's house about seven miles away. He had placed candles around the tub, with light jazz playing softly in the background. With a gla.s.s of my favorite white wine in hand, I lay back and closed my tired eyes as I immersed myself up to my neck in bubbles. I could feel the tension drifting away inch by inch. I was in seventh heaven and must have dozed off briefly, because I suddenly awakened when I heard Christian moving around in our bedroom. As I prepared myself to step out of the bathtub, Christian came in with a big white fluffy bath towel and dried me off so erotically that I didn't want him to stop.

Slowly, he led me into our bedroom with pa.s.sionate kisses. More candles had been lit, illuminating the room. Christian placed me gently on our king-size bed with the burgundy comforter and rubbed me down in my favorite Victoria's Secret body oil. In between ma.s.sages, we exchanged warm, deep-tongued kisses and loving caresses. Christian and I didn't take it any further; we had all night to savor each other. The night was still young.

After I dressed in one of my s.e.xy, see-through black negligees that Christian simply adores, he brought in a small tray of fruit, cheese, crackers and more wine that had chilled in the refrigerator. He took a quick hot shower and we spent the remainder of the night watching old movies rented from Blockbuster, snacking and cuddling. I could watch Sparkle and Cooley High over and over again. They are true cla.s.sics.

We had dessert around midnight, when he pulled off my gown with his teeth and seductively kissed me from the top of my head to the bottom of my toes, taking his time to appreciate all of me, inch by inch. Christian knows every mole, nook and cranny on my body. He is in tune with my body. The climax of the evening was when he buried his head between my parted thighs and feasted until I begged him to enter me.

I glanced over at the green numbers on the digital clock that sat on our cherry-wood nightstand and noticed it was almost two A.M. The last few nights I had insomnia. I guess it was my body's way of rebelling against the nightmares. I was too afraid to sleep. Most evenings, I read and watched Christian sleep, like tonight.

I reached over to caress his cheek and he turned in my direction. Instinctively, Christian pulled me to him in our spooning position. As he held me in his semitight embrace, I could feel his love radiating warmth throughout my body.

"Mia, you still up?" he asked in a s.e.xy, sleepy voice. "What time is it?"

"Yes, I'm about to go to sleep. I just finished reading my Essence magazine. Go back to sleep; it's almost two A.M."

His warm hand traveled to my right breast and gently squeezed. I let out a soft moan. "First tell me who's the man?" he asked.

"Boo, you know you are." I smiled at this familiar game we always played.

His hand traced an imaginary line down my taut stomach, stopped and dipped between my thighs and gently rubbed. "Let me hear you say it."

"Baby, you the man! You own my stuff. It has your name stamped all over it. You have copyright papers," I said in the most serious tone I could manage.

"You know that, and don't you ever forget it or I'll have to prove it to you again." Christian snuggled closer to me and nuzzled my neck.

There was a comfortable silence as we appreciated the moment and our closeness in the early-morning hours.

Christian spoke gently into the darkness. "I love you, baby. You and Lyric are my world."

"I love you more," I declared, lifting my right hand to caress his cheek.

"Promise me you'll never leave me." His silliness returned. "I love you so much, I'd drink your bathwater," he shrieked in his best Chris Tucker imitation.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, man," I said, giggling. As we laughed again, Christian pulled me closer into his safe embrace and we slowly drifted into our own separate slumbers.

Christian.

I believe that no matter how good a friend is, they're going to hurt you every once in a while, and you must forgive them for that.-Author Unknown

After sleeping in until nearly eleven, Mia and I finally ate a light brunch of ham-and-turkey sandwiches, fruit, chips and iced tea. I haven't slept in that late in a while. I usually rise with the sun. It's true what they say: Old habits are hard to break. You see, I'm ex-military, and rising early and putting in several hours of hard work had been drilled into me at a very early age. I was discharged from the marines a few months before I married Mia, my one true love. I didn't want to bring her back into that environment again for various reasons.

Now my full-time occupation is being a loving and devoted husband and a doting father, and working as head of security at a financial inst.i.tution in Midtown. There, I work everything from first to third s.h.i.+ft, usually rotating my schedule. I like a hands-on approach; I like to know my staff, and found this way allowed me to accomplish that.

After I walked Mia out to her black Ford Explorer, opened the driver's door for her, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and watched as she drove off to pick up Lyric, I silently wondered again what was bothering her. I know my wife all too well, and something was definitely on Mia's mind. She still had dark circles under her eyes like she didn't sleep a wink. Mia did a lot of tossing and turning again last night. And a few times I even heard her call out softly in a fretful sleep, but I couldn't understand what she was saying. I wrapped my arms protectively around her and eventually she calmed back down.

These dreams have been going on for roughly two, three weeks at the most, and Mia refuses to talk about them. I'm positive I know the subject of her dreams-Brice, her ex-husband and my ex-best friend. Mia hasn't seen him in over five years. The last time Mia set eyes on him was in the midst of a violent fight, when he was beating her a.s.s and she ended up in the hospital.

It's been almost that long for me as well. A few months later, Brice and I had a confrontation before his departure overseas with the marines. I guess back then we were both running from our own internal demons. Brice chose to run to another country; I chose to remove myself from the source of my pain and bittersweet memories. That time frame and period in my life seems like light-years ago. The person I was back then doesn't even exist anymore.

It's a long story the way Mia and I got together. My wife is a lovely thirty-year-old lady with beautiful brown eyes, high cheekbones, a head of thick, black, wavy hair that she keeps short and a pet.i.te body that won't quit. I love her with all my heart and soul. I could be in a room full of supermodels or even Janet Jackson or Halle Berry and I'd still have eyes only for my Mia. Well, maybe I'd look, but I'd have love for only Mia. And that's saying a lot, since I am a retired player.

A few years ago, if someone told me I would be married with a two-year-old daughter, I would have laughed in his face. Back then, women had only one thing I needed. I'm the first one to admit that I loved myself some beautiful black women. G.o.d knew exactly what he was doing when he made these wonderful, s.e.xy, sensual creatures He called women. Whisper a few sweet words in their ears, treat them like they're special, even if only for that moment, and they take you to heaven and back.

Women don't realize just how much power they possess between their legs. Men don't want to admit it, but women have the power, and some of them have figured that truth out. There's nothing like the feel or touch of a woman's silky body against a masculine one, and when a man takes her to ecstasy, makes her come, it's an amazing feeling. Men never get enough. Unfortunately for me, I was making the trip to heaven every opportunity I received from every and any driver I could find.

Then Mia came into my life via Brice and all that changed. Mia changed my world as I knew it. She has brought so much joy into my life; if only she would learn to trust and share her feelings and thoughts with me. Mia keeps everything bottled up so tightly it's amazing she doesn't explode. I understand some of her reasons, because I know how she was raised and some of the things that have happened in her lifetime. But . . . I want Mia to know and believe that I'm not going to hurt her, mentally or physically. It saddens me to think that she would ever doubt my love for her.

Sometimes, I think Mia is looking for the moment when I will hit her. That will never happen. Mia is very headstrong and we've had some pretty heated arguments, but I'd cut off my right arm before I'd strike her.

I know these nightmares are all stemming from what I made the mistake of telling her about a month ago. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. Mia and I were stretched out, as usual, on the sofa in the living room half watching some old Western movie on TV. Lyric was fast asleep, taking her midday nap, with her favorite baby doll and stuffed bear nearby.