Chapter 10
TEN
Clarke’s beauty was something I’d never be able to accurately describe. It was one of those things you’d have to see to truly believe. Stepping off the plane and being met with it was better than stumbling into the living room with sleepy eyes as a kid on Christmas and finding boxes stacked under the tree.
It had been seven days since I’d kissed the city’s air. Negotiations had lasted three days longer than expected. Implementation had been a breeze once the numbers were right. Yet and still, it was a four-day process.
“This way, son.”
I ushered Princeton toward the car. As much as I’d wanted him home over the last week, I wanted him near. He and Nikola were packed and ready to board their flight the second negotiations were over and his therapy session for the week had ended. My presence was pivotal in Princeton’s world.
A day or two without me and he’d be fine. Anything more and he’d begin shedding pounds from the lack of hydration and nutrients. Dinner wouldn’t interest him. Neither would his usual activities. To keep his routine intact, they traveled along with him and Nikola.
“This way, son.”
Stopping in my tracks, I lowered my body to the pavement. His eyes had wandered off, but his words were sitting right on top of my chest.
“This way, son. This way, son. This way, son.”
He chuckled.
“This way, son. This way, son.”
A hand covered his mouth as he continued to find humor in his repetitiveness.
“This way, son. This way, son.”
I couldn’t help but laugh myself as I tried to understand if he was mimicking me and my constant demand to have him by my side or if he simply couldn’t stop himself from repeating the phrase over and over, again.
“This way, son. This way, son.”
Woody. Mmm . That’s all. That’s all I’d ever heard come from those little lips of his. The fact that had changed in a matter of seconds had me struggling to find balance. My head was foggy. My heart was pounding.
My thoughts were running rampant. My limbs, they felt pointless almost because I couldn’t gather the strength to pull my son in my arms. I could only stare at him.
“This way, son. This way, son. This way, son.”
He’s talking. He’s talking to me. His voice. His–
“This way, son. This way, son.”
“Are you making fun of your father?” Nikola tittered, taking Princeton by the hand.
Her question snapped me out of whatever state Princeton’s progress had tossed me in. A nod from my son confirmed our suspicions. I found my strength and managed to palm his head while standing on my feet, again.
“I’m going to remember that next time you’re wandering around the house in a panic because you can’t find me.”
“This way, son. This way, son. This way, son,” he repeated.
It didn’t matter how many times he said it. It felt like the first time every time. My heart was happy.
“That’s exactly what I’m not going to call out to you and say.”
It had been seven days since I’d seen Rather. Since I’d touched her. Since I’d kissed her. Since I’d heard her voice. Today, however, I’d make up for all the days I’d missed.
We settled in the car with Nikola in the backseat with Princeton. The stereo was shut off completely. It wasn’t music I wanted to hear. It was my son.
I took out my phone and opened the camera. As I pressed the button to record, I sparked his interest by revisiting the words he’d said over and over again.
“This way, son.”
He lifted his head with a smile on his face. Immediately, the words began flowing again.
“This way, son. This way, son. This way, son.”
“This way, son.” I joined him before turning the video off.
My father was the first call I made. I wanted him to know there was no need for him to come by my home to get Princeton for therapy. But, most importantly, it was crucial that he heard the voice of his only grandchild. We’d waited close to six years for him to say his first words. Most parents only waited a few months.
“Priest,” he answered.
“Listen.”
There wasn’t a response. Instead, he quieted and complied.
“This way, son. This way, son.”
Elation filled me. Princeton rocked back and forward, tapping his index finger against his chin.
“This way, son. This way, son. This way, son.”
“Priest. Is that my gran– Is that my grandson?”
Bewilderment was intertwined in my father’s words. There was doubt. There was excitement. There was pride. There was joy.
“It is,” confidently, I confirmed.
I could hear the broken pieces of his heart as they began finding their way back together. If Princeton never said a single word, we’d love him all the same. However, we understood his frustrations and desires to do more, say more, and progress more. Most times, it was as if the words were at the tip of his tongue, but he simply couldn’t get them out.
“Goddamn, man,” he spoke into the phone. The cracking of his voice raised fine bumps on my skin. “I knew he could. I always knew my boy could. I always knew.”
“Me, too, Pops.”
“That woman is a Godsend. Kofi had better get his shit together quick. If nothing else, Princeton needs her. She’s exactly what the fucking doctor failed to prescribe.”
She’s our antidote .
“I was just about to head that way to pick him up. Is he about ready?”
“Not quite. We just landed. You don’t have to worry about getting him to therapy this week. I’ll make sure he’s there on time. We’re already in the car.”
“Alright. Sounds good, son.”
In the background, Princeton continued repeating himself.
“I’ll hit you back later, old man.”
“Listen to him go. When you get tired of hearing him say that shit over and over, send him to us. We’ll listen until our ears bleed.”
“Then send him to my mom,” I tittered, knowing she’d gladly join the round up.
“She’ll kill us all if we don’t. Does she know?”
“Nah. You were the first person I called.”
“Good. Let me tell her.”
“Okay, I have a video in case she doesn’t believe you. I’m sending it over now.”
“Alright. Talk to you later, son.”
“Later.”
I ended the call and sent the video I’d taken. I was sure my mother would be calling me after talking to my father, but I’d let him do the honors. Even at thirty-six, they remain co-parents.
Their healthy relationship was a goal for so many parents who didn’t have romantic ties. It had trickled down to the care of Princeton which created the perfect balance. He was blessed with three grandparents who loved him dearly.
Lola didn’t know who her father was and her mother had been strung out since she was three. She’d bounced around from foster care to foster care. I, later, understood the absence of her mother made her detachment from Princeton fairly simple.
She didn’t know what a mother looked like, felt like, or acted like. She’d tried her hardest to be the best version of what she thought a mother was the first year of Princeton’s life. But, when his diagnosis was revealed, she folded. All the things she was becoming, the mother she was becoming , vanished so easily.
As for me, all I knew was healthy, wholesome parenting. I’d been my father’s pride and joy since I was born, despite the circumstances surrounding my conception and birth. Not only did I have a phenomenal mother, but I was gifted with a second one. God had been generous. My support system was solid, which is why I didn’t bat an eye when Lola skated.
The body of the Phantom was massive. It claimed a sizable amount of the pavement that carved Rather’s driveway. When the wheels stopped in front of her door, a part of me found peace. Since I’d seen her descending the stairs at The Mansion two years ago, this was exactly where I wanted to be.
Nikola was safely inside my home, preparing to change linen and reacclimate Princeton with his at-home routine. For the weekend, she’d be visiting family five-hundred miles away. I was looking forward to her taking the much needed break from our home.
It wasn’t until I opened his door that I noticed Princeton had fallen asleep. He’d worn himself out mimicking me and my helicopter parenting. His sense of humor was the aspect of this all that I was looking forward to.
Laughing with my son was a dream I wasn’t afraid to admit I had often. It was the purest form of gratitude a child could display. I was patiently waiting for the day Princeton brought me to tears and made my stomach ache from laughter.
“Come on, son.”
Barely above a whisper, I encouraged his consciousness. A few nudges got his eyes open. At the realization of where we were, he found the strength to smile. He bounced up and down, trying to assist me with the task at hand. He tapped the red button as if I didn’t know it was the key to his freedom.
“Woah. Let me get your belt undone.”
Eagerly, he jumped down from the car onto the concrete after I’d loosened his seatbelt. I wasn’t sure what sounds were coming from his mouth as he ran around the car and up to the door, but they were very new and very peculiar.
By the time I made it to the door, Rather was turning the locks. Routines. She lived by them all her life. It wasn’t until two years ago that changed for her. But, Princeton’s presence was a reminder of the life she once had. The routines .
Two o’clock.
Tuesdays.
Every week .
Upon opening the door, Rather dropped to her knees. She pulled Princeton in for a hug and wrapped her hands around his body. As they embraced, she stared up at me with crinkled eyebrows and concern written all over her pretty face. My presence was baffling. So there was no more confusion on her behalf, I made shit crystal clear.
I miss you . I mouthed, simultaneously using my hands to confess.
Her spine curled. Her eyes closed. And, a sigh escaped her lips. The tension in her spine dissolved before my very eyes.
Shortly after, she loosened her grip on my son and held him at a distance.
“Hi, Princeton. Are you ready for our session?”
He lifted his head and it fell almost immediately after.
“Hmm?” She asked, placing a hand on her ear and angling it toward him.
“Y—yes,” he responded, barely audible.
Self-control proved to be difficult at that moment. From then, I knew I’d struggled with my impulsiveness throughout the evening. It was never an issue. Had never been an issue. I hardly moved without consideration and careful calculation, but when it came to her hardly anything was the same about me. I was different. Mentally. Physically .
“That’s what I like to hear. Let’s go.”
I stepped inside, trying to piece together my memories. I’d been in the very spot I was standing in weeks prior, but hardly remembered anything about the space. All I remembered was the woman hand-in-hand with my son. I was in a completely different realm when I entered Rather’s home that night. I was on a completely different wavelength.
“How about you go into our room and have a seat? I’ll be right there. Let me see your father out. Okay?”
Princeton didn’t respond. Instead, he hopped down the hall at full speed, turning the first corner he reached. She turned, taking me all in as I did the same. She was a breath of fresh air and stunning in the loose-fitted cropped top and long skirt combination. They were beige in color. The material of choice was linen.
She was timeless. Her beauty. Her class. Her elegance. So well put together. So manicured. So polished. Clean. Simple. Her aesthetic was quintessential. As was she.
Folded arms told me she wasn’t exactly happy. They made it clear I’d disturbed her comfort. It was something I never intended to do, but she made that promise almost impossible to keep. I wanted her around. Near. Always. In all ways.
“I’m not leaving, Rather.”
“Pries–”
“Have you missed me?” I interrupted, hardly interested in her protests.
“I– Priest.”
“Answer my question.”
Slowly, she nodded. Those big, all-consuming eyes glossed over. Her resolve softened. Her limbs loosened. Right before me, she modified her stance. She rediscovered her comfort. That’s all I wanted. That’s all I ever wanted with Rather.
“Too much.”
Her response was low, but I heard every word.
As gentle as I cared to be in my head, my hands had a mind of their own. I pushed her up toward the wall behind her with my fingers wrapped around her neck. My feet were moving fast. Hers moved even faster, keeping up with my speed until she smashed into the wall.
My lips landed on hers. My tongue separated her teeth.
Fuck, I’ve missed you .
So swiftly, I so easily got lost in her. She was easy to navigate, but I purposely lost my sense of geography. My knowledge of worlds, the way they worked, and how they were operated was useless.
When my lungs could no longer support life and had dried to a crisp, I unleashed her.
Breathe .
She disrupted my oxygen supply. My body struggled to adjust. Labored breathing followed our disconnection.
“Where’s your father? Is he well?”
“He is.”
“Then, why are you here?” She angled her chin and widened her eyes.
Chuckling, I kissed the skin of my teeth, “I don’t need permission to see you, Rather. I do that as I damn well please.”
“Those weren't the rules,” she reminded me.
I leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Fuck the rules.”
Taken by my response, she released a deep breath.
“Priest.”
“I’m listening.”
Instead of responding, she rolled those eyes of hers, bringing joy to my world. She didn’t have shit to say.
“I could probably never repay you for what you’ve restored in here,” I told her, pointing at my chest. “But, I’ll keep trying until I figure it out.”
“You owe me nothing.”
With her forehead pressed against my chest, she shared.
“I owe you everything, Rather. Princeton’s improvement– maybe it seems small but it’s a big fucking deal. You did that. No one did that but you.”
“It’s not, Priest. But, it’s my job. He repays me in full every time he opens his mouth. Your father never has to wire me another dime and nothing between us will change. Tuesdays. Two o’clock. One hour. A world of possibilities.”
“Thank you.”
She paused, looking up at me.
“I have a client waiting. Make yourself comfortable since you insist on staying. But, please don’t interfere or get in our way. This isn’t our time. It belongs to Princeton.”
With her palms expanded, Rather pushed me backward. The softness she’d succumbed to was quickly hardening. She was asserting her dominance. She was regaining her power. She was becoming the woman her brother had kept hidden in plain sight this whole fucking time.
“Fine,” I agreed with both hands in the air.
The last thing I wanted was to be kicked out on my ass.
“Hard boundary, Priest. Hard .”
She made herself clear.
“Understood.”
She turned, heading toward the direction Princeton had run off in. Before she was out of arm’s reach, I smacked her largest curve.
Whack! It sounded in the openness of her foyer.
When her eyes met mine and her hand went for her thigh, I wrapped my arm around her neck and pulled her back into me. I grabbed her right hand, stopping all movement.
Laughing, I asked, “You were going to shoot me?”
“No, but the bullet would’ve grazed you,” she assured me.
“You’re that good, huh?”
“Let me go so you can find out.”
“No. Not until you calm down.”
She didn’t respond. Instead, she inhaled and exhaled dramatically. Five times she repeated the exercise. Her body relaxed against mine.
“Better now?”
She nodded.
I didn’t trust her. Not one bit. I walked her down the hallway with gapped legs and both of her hands under my control.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I’m not trying to get shot, Rather.”
“If I wanted to shoot you, you’d be shot. I mean that… from the bottom of my heart .”
It wasn’t until we reached the room where Princeton was waiting that I let her go. She was amused and so was I. Before she made her way into the classroom, she stopped at the door’s threshold.
Smitten by the woman before me, I blew a kiss in her direction. Again, those big eyes rolled as she shook her head. Her cheeks fluffed and her teeth peered from behind her lips.
I made a mental note to cancel my father’s future pickups. I was now responsible for therapy on Tuesdays at two o’clock. Everything I was trying to avoid by giving him the task was transpiring. It wasn’t shit I could do about it. It wasn’t shit I was trying to do about it either.
Fuck I’m supposed to do with myself? I asked for the fourth time in twenty minutes.
I hadn’t quite thought my plan through. I neglected to acknowledge the fact I would be useless for a full hour while Princeton was in therapy. Now, as I sat on the living room couch, I couldn’t keep still.
Doors. The doors .
I nodded, springing from my seat and heading for the first door in sight that led to the outside. It only took a few seconds for me to get a good look at the screw and determine it was one of the smaller ones that wouldn’t stand a chance against a raid or someone’s heavy foot. I was certain if this lock was held in place by the small screw, the others were, too.
The kitchen was my next stop. I searched every drawer to find where she kept screws of any kind, screwdrivers, or anything remotely close. I didn’t find anything. The garage beckoned for me. I followed my intuition and quickly stumbled upon an unopened toolkit. I brought the sorted screws and screwdrivers of all sizes inside. I only needed one, but the kit wasn’t opened so I had to bring them all in.
The first lock was changed in a matter of two minutes. The second was her patio door. It didn’t give me any trouble either. I made my way down the hall toward the bedroom that led to the pool on the other side of the house. It was a second master suite, I assumed. Possibly an in-law suite.
I passed the room where Princeton and Rather were seated in the large comfortable loveseat. An oversized book was in her hands and she was reading each word with theatrics that matched. Briefly, I paused, taking in the view.
Exactly what she was giving him was all Princeton wanted. It was all he needed. Someone to nourish his mind and tap into his emotions… and not just anyone . It had to be someone he viewed in a specific regard. Someone he saw in the same light as he did Lola. Someone he associated with the person he was missing. A woman. A mother .
Sensing my presence, Rather peeped her head over the large publication. I was reminded of hers. She’d do well. I was convinced. And, however I could, I would assist her.
No words were exchanged. I continued down the hallway to finish the job I’d started. One by one, I changed the screws of every lock in her home. By the time I finished the final one on her front door, she was rounding the corner. I checked the time on my watch. Princeton still had ten minutes of therapy left.
“Is everything okay?”
“He’s asleep.”
“He was tired on the way over. I’m not surprised.”
I’d broken a sweat and was out of my button down. Rather’s lingering eyes jogged my memory. I had forgotten my shirt was on the back of her couch. We stood face to face, unmoving and silent.
Rather was a complete mind fuck. I found it hard to believe she didn’t know it. She was a therapist. The Therapist . She was well aware of it.
“Why didn’t you call?” Her words gutted me.
The vulnerability leaped out, snatching my soul and heart in its quest for relevancy.
“Rather, I–”
“I don’t like missing you,” she grumbled, “That’s what you told me.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Then, you sucked at showing me this week.”
She lodged a fist in my heart. I searched for words. They’d gone missing.
The only thing I could conjure was, “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want an apology, Priest. I want you to understand how I feel. I want you to understand what’s happening here.”
She pointed between us.
“Do you understand what’s happening? Because, for the life of me, I can’t stop it. I don’t know that I want to either. We’ve blurred the lines. We’ve fucked up, royally. I don’t know about you, but for me–for me it’s not just sex anymore.”
She shook her head from side to side. I heard every word. I felt every word. So that she could hear me clearly, I conquered the space between us. When I was close enough, I adapted to her eye level. Not only did I want her to hear me, I wanted her to see, feel, and understand me.
“It was never just sex,” I confessed, “Not for me. It was always more. You were always more. Don’t insult this thing we have. No matter how complex it is. Don’t do that, Rather.”
“I crave you,” she admitted, closing her eyes and placing a hand on her chest, “Every waking hour of the day.”
“Even when I sleep,” I added, letting her know she wasn’t alone.
“I’ve been trying to consume you in small doses, so afraid I’ll overdose.”
Her truth was valid. It was mine as well.
“It’s not that easy, Rather.”
“I know.”
Her rounded shoulders and burdened gaze was tearing me apart inside.
“Join us at the lake house this weekend. Friday morning, be there.”
“Pri–”
“I don’t care. Whatever is about to come from those lips that doesn’t align with what I’ve just said or the way you’re feeling, then I don’t care. It’s not real. This is.”
I tapped my index finger on her chest.
She massaged her temple, trying to make sense of something that would never make sense. Not to me. Not to her. Not to anyone. But, we were beyond that point. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but us.
“I jus– I need to see it through. I have to see it through. He’d give his life for me, one hundred times over. Just this one thi– thing. I can’t screw this up.”
“You won’t.”
“We’ve blurred the lines. Our secrets have spilled out of the suite and into our personal lives.”
“The lines no longer exist. I’ve told you once, but I’ll say it again–the suite can’t contain us.”
She agreed silently.
“Friday, by noon. 11206 Lakeshore Drive.”
“Okay.” She sealed her lids as the response escaped her. Slowly, her chin lowered to her chest where it stayed until my voice brought her back to me.
“How are you feeling, Rose?”
At the sound of her given name, her eyes were on me again. She opened her mouth to speak but when nothing emerged, she closed it, again. Her lips pressed together.
The internal conflict she faced was written all over her face and her unsteady fingers. She drew small, repeated circles on her thigh. I stepped forward, taking her hand into mine.
“How are you feeling, Rose?”
She lifted her shoulders and then dropped them. “Parch.”
I’d known it with or without her confirmation. Her longing hadn’t gone unnoticed. It wasn’t water that would quench her thirst.
I pressed my palm against her cheek. She was open. She was ready. But, the roles had yet to be assumed. Rather had yet to conform.
“Then, we should see about getting that worked out.”
“I’m not her, Priest.”
Blankly, emotionlessly she stared at me. Unmoving. Unconvinced. Unable to be anything other than her true self.
“This isn’t the suite. And, my name isn’t Rose. It’s Rather. Rather Childers. The Therapist . And, unless you’re not afraid to sit in my chair and serve as my client, then I suggest you pack your son up and head out of the door you came in.”
I almost forgot to breathe. I almost forgot to blink. I almost forgot to respond. Dazed, I stilled and watched as the woman before me honed her power and stripped mine simultaneously.
She rounded me.
Once.
Twice.
And a third time before stopping in front of me.
“Mr. Valentine.”
I was so far removed from our reality that I didn’t know my chin had dipped and my head was hanging. I straightened my posture and matched Rather’s stare.
“What will it be?”
I palmed my mouth, considering my options. I’d heard the stories. I knew just how brutal she was. I knew how well she did her job. I knew how bad things could get. Yet and still, I was intrigued by the thought.
Not many who sat in her chair survived to tell the story. Those who did likely couldn’t tell their story because their injuries wouldn’t allow. Those injuries weren’t always physical. They possessed mental scars as well.
“Mr. Valentine.”
“I’ve never been a hoe, Dr. Childers. How shall we proceed?”
Her hands gathered near her chest.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
Slowly and quietly, she gathered her hands.
“Well, then–”
She brushed the invisible wrinkles from her skirt. The sternness of her stance and words made me wonder if I’d made a mistake. However, I refused to recant.
“This way, shall we?”