Chapter 4
CHAPTER
FOUR
Muse
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but it seems like you’re saying my son has some kind of syndrome. There’s nothing wrong with MJ,” I responded to his second-grade teacher.
Tonight was the parent-teacher conference, and I was proud that MJ’s grades were great and so was his behavior, but both his teacher and I noticed that certain textures disturbed him something serious.
I was all up for doing any and everything to get my boy the help he needed, but his teacher needed to clarify some details because I didn’t understand the results from the assessment the school counselor had given him.
“My apologies if I’ve confused you in any kind of way.
MJ suffers from a touch sensory disorder.
It’s when an adult or child in this case, has a hypersensitivity to touch.
Individuals who experience touch sensitivity often say they are more bothered by things that touch their skin than others.
While in recess, or arts and crafts, he won’t partake in certain activities because his disorder won’t allow him to.
“Now, I’ve compiled a list of therapists you could choose from to help him, and I’m also recommending that you pay Era Hopes a visit.
She owns Pottery Love, a pottery store. She’s great at teaching adults and children with touch sensory disorders how to manage it.
I know MJ will enjoy it because most people rave about her work.
Here’s her information. She has an upcoming class, and you should register MJ as soon as possible.
Sign yourself up as well because you will truly enjoy it, Mr. Boxers. ”
I took the information from her, then shook her hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Clark for the help and recommendation. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“You’re welcome and please do.”
I exited out of her class and slid into my SUV.
My parents had MJ, so I relaxed in my seat and took my time and read through the list of therapists she’d compiled for me.
After thoroughly going through the list, I narrowed it down to two black therapists.
It was between a man and a woman. The lady, Dr. Smith, had more positive reviews and her office wasn’t far from my house, so it was a go for her.
I called her office and scheduled an appointment for next week.
Since it was going to be their first time together, an assessment test was needed.
I exhaled after the call ended, and I was glad the first step was out of the way.
Next, I called the pottery owner, and she told me to stop by since she was finishing up with her last class for the day.
She was probably some eccentric and peppy ass white woman where art was her life.
Kids responded well to folks who matched their energy, so it was best I didn’t judge her too harshly.
I pulled away from MJ’s school on this beautiful evening night and drove through the downtown area to the address of the pottery store owner.
Tobe Nwigwe latest single blasted louder than usual in my SUV as a cool breeze from the ocean sailed in from my lowered front windows.
My stomach rumbled like a bitch because I was so hungry, but I had to make sure MJ was squared away first.
As soon as this was over, I was racing to get me some food. Four years had passed, and we hadn’t heard a peep from Starry. I really wasn’t playing about chopping her ass up and feeding her to the sharks.
MJ didn’t ask to be here, but she didn’t give a shit. No matter what was going on in a person’s life, nothing should prevent a man or woman from taking care of their kid or kids. I hated that shit with a passion.
From the jump, I wanted Starry and I to be the best co-parents we could be for MJ’s sake, so he could receive nurturing and love from both of us while apart, but it never happened. Oh well, her loss, not mine or MJ’s. As I pulled up to the storefront, I lowered my music and parked.
I remember passing this place a couple years back when it was being renovated. I’d passed it since then, but I hadn’t paid much attention to it at all. The front room was dim but bright enough to see the patrons in front of their station, getting dirty from the rotating pottery.
The drapes were pulled partially, so it was hard to see the owner, but I didn’t miss the afro art that decorated the front area.
There were different shades of brown tones and gold tones that matched the color scheme.
The splashes of cream color added a pop to the darker tones, and it blended well.
There was gold lettering outside on the moniker that matched the decor, and right then and there, I knew somebody white didn’t own this establishment.
I killed my engine, exited my SUV, and walked onto the sidewalk.
When I opened the door and entered the store, I was immediately hit with the aromatherapy fragrances of frankincense and peppermint.
Music played softly, and I recognized the tune by Leonie Barbot.
The vibe was so relaxing and chill that I damn near wanted to pull up a chair and dip my hands into the muddy brown liquid with the rest of her clients.
I peered over the shoulder of an older woman and watched as she molded the swirling brown liquid into a really nice dinner plate. Damn, she was really talented.
“May I help you, sir?”
My head snapped up front, and my eyes clashed with her smooth peanut butter complexion first, then her C-cups that were hidden by a white sports bra.
I took notice of the pottery mix covering her hands and forearms as I trailed up her taut stomach that was partially concealed by denim overall straps that hung loosely at her sides.
Her long, straightened dark brown hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, but despite everything, my dream girl stood right here in my face.
I’d dreamt of her and that damn white bikini for the past four years because I still had yet to meet a woman more striking than her.
Before I could stop myself, the words rolled off my tongue like butter gliding over a freshly baked biscuit.
“Mizz Lady.”
She raised her eyebrow in question as a curious expression covered her gorgeous face. “I’m sorry, sir. Do I know you?”
As if my feet had a mind of their own, I swaggered right in her direction and stopped right in front of her. She took a small step back because I stepped over the invisible line of her personal space, but I quickly grabbed onto her wrist.
“It was a little over four years ago, when your husband popped my brother in the eye for flirting with you. We were all visiting the Coral Hive Resort. We even played a game of volleyball. Does any of these events ring a bell?”
Curiosity still rested on her face until minutes passed and her kind, honey brown eyes widened with recognition.
A familiar grin scaled across her round face that prompted her penny sized dimples to showcase their much-needed glory.
“Oh, wow! You have an impressive memory, but yes, I remember you, surprisingly. We haven’t been formally introduced.
I’m Era Hopes,” she voiced and excitedly shook my hand.
“Nice to meet you again, Mizz Lady. I’m Muse Boxers. We’re back in the Era of Muse.”
She chuckled and removed her hand from mine and stuffed it into the soiled, oversized pockets of her overalls.
Era licked her lips as she looked down at her platform clogs then back at me.
At that moment, it was like I had been struck by lightning while her long lashes fluttered solely at me.
She smiled bashfully with her head tilted to the side as her honey brown orbs pierced mine.
“Mizz Lady? The Era of Muse? What’s that all about?”
“You’re Era and Muse. We’re back together.
But the name Mizz Lady was the first thought that entered my mind the moment I laid eyes on you.
I’ve never forgotten the day we met because you reminded me of a mermaid.
You looked so free and majestic as you emerged from the water and collected your clams. It was quite the visual,” I affirmed and matched her stare down.
“You got all that from one observation?”
“What can I say, I’m a very observant person.”
“Indeed, you are. But how can I help you? Are you interested in taking my class?”
“Maybe, but I spoke with you earlier about signing up my son, MJ, for your sensory class.”
“Ohh, right. Okay, make yourself comfortable at one of the empty stations while I wrap up my last class.”
“Will do. Thanks.”
She flashed me a warm smile and walked away and addressed her students. Damn, this woman was affecting me heavily already and this time, hello was exchanged compared to our first run in.
Era locked out her last student then walked over to desk.
She grabbed a pen and a sheet of paper and took a seat across from me at the table for two, right in front of her storefront window.
“Okay, this here is a simple multiple choice form I would like for you to take home and fill out with your son, MJ. On the day of his first class, please bring it back, so I’ll have a better understanding of his condition.
” She looked over the notepad and checked off a few things on her checklist when there was a knock on her door.
Both of us looked up to see a delivery man standing there holding up a brown paper bag. “Excuse me. I ordered food before you arrived.” Era stood and walked over to the door. Her and the delivery guy exchanged pleasantries, before she closed and locked the door back.
Era placed the bag onto the table and removed several white cartons filled with savory ass fragrant cuisine. “Have you eaten?” she inquired while placing the empty paper bag on the floor and taking her seat.
“No, I have not. Are you sharing with me, Mizz Lady?” I asked coyly.
She tried to fight the urge not to smile, but she couldn’t help it. Those deep dimples revealed the effect I had on her, and I loved to see it.
“Yes, I am.” She made both of us a plate of the Thai food she ordered. Afterwards we focused back on MJ. “So, will it be just you attending class with him, or will you and your wife take turns?” she questioned, then forked some of the sesame noodles into her mouth.
The moment her heart shaped lips serenaded her fork, my dick twitched as a reminder that he was present and down for whatever, but I warned him to chill, and I focused on Era. “Is that your subtle way of asking if I’m married?”
She blushed. “It is not. Part of his development is to teach others closely around him with the same methods he learns, when he’s not here.”
“Oh, that’s understandable but here I was thinking you were flirting with me, Era. But to answer your question, no I’m not married. I’m single and celibate, and MJ’s mom is out of the picture.”
“First off, you would know if I was flirting, which I’m not. I’m sorry that his mom isn’t there for him, but at least he has a caring father in his life.”
“Thank you, and he does. I would move earth for that boy because he didn’t ask to be here. No matter what position you’re in, you should still take responsibility for that child and do what you can to raise him or her to the best of your ability.”
Era stared at me long enough until I saw her honey brown eyes begin to pool with moisture. What was that about? Something was going on with her, and it was very much related to kids. “How's married life treating you?”
Era quickly wiped her eyes and chuckled lightly. “Married life has its ups and downs, but it’s going okay.”
“Only okay? You’ve been married for like four years now, right?”
Era’s eyes widened as she abruptly stood from her seat. “Shit! How could I be so forgetful!” she shrieked, then quickly knocked all the remnants of our dinner into the paper bag on the floor.
I was so confused about what the hell was going on at the moment. “What’s going on?” I queried, standing from my seat.
“Today is my fourth wedding anniversary, and I forgot to leave early. I gotta get out of here because I know Syris is furious, right now. You gotta go, please. I’ll see Thursday with MJ, but please leave,” she voiced frantically as she raced over to her desk and grabbed her crossbody bag and phone.
Era hit the lights then pushed me out of her studio and locked up.
Once she was done, she jetted away from me. “Era, wait!” She didn’t stop or look back. She hopped into her luxury model Benz then sped away. I had no idea what her marriage was like, but if it had her this stressed, it wasn’t good.