Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sin
Spin the Block
“Heads up, Stephen is here.”
“Why?” I turn to face the open doorway where my sister is standing. I stab myself in the eye with the mascara wand, but the pain barely registers over the wild flare of panic in my chest. “Stephen? As in my ex-boyfriend?”
“Is there another one?”
My heart skips a beat and then starts hammering. “He’s in this house?”
She nods slowly. “He’s running his mouth downstairs as we speak.”
“Why?” I cry and throw my makeup back into the bag hastily.
“He came to drop off some mail for you. Mom invited him to stay.”
“Why would she do that? How could you let her?” I point an accusing finger at her.
My sister crosses her arms and glares at me.
“How could I stop her? You won’t tell anyone what really went down.
You made it seem amicable and all she can see is that Kwame is right there, making lovesick eyes at you, obviously infatuated with you, fine as hell, and you’re still just friends.
” She puts air quotes around the word friends.
“Oh stop it.” I roll my eyes and wave it off. But inside I’m seesawing between hope and fear that she’s right. Infatuation was two exits ago for me and I’m not sure he’s going to catch up. Or if he’s even trying to. “Do you really think Kwame is infatuated with me, Mae?”
“Yes, I think you feel the same way. But something is holding you back.”
Butterflies shake their wings in my chest at the mention of Kwame’s name, but I feel guilty that I’ve burdened her with this secret. One crisis at a time, Sin.
I force my focus back to the matter at hand. “I don’t understand why he accepted her invitation. He’s got to know I wouldn’t be happy to see him.”
“Well judging from the flowers he brought you, the case of spirits he brought Dad, and the shit-eating grin he’s wearing, I would say he doesn’t know that at all. Kinda wish I didn’t have Shelly’s shower today.”
“He brought what?” I shoot to my feet, makeup forgotten and grab the chocolate brown pleather skirt off the hanger on the back of my door, tug it over my hips and zip it up. “How dare he?” I start for the door and Mae grabs my arm.
“I know you’re surprised, but please don’t make a scene. You know how his mother likes to gossip, and Ma still has to see her every week at The Ghana Association meetings.”
“God, I hate this. I’m so sick of censoring myself for the sake of a bunch of people who only know the highlight reel version of my life.”
“I know. You don’t have to make nice, but be civil. Mom went to a lot of trouble today.”
“And then ruined all her hard work by inviting that goat to stink up the place.”
“Sin,” Mae chides.
My blood is rushing in my ears. I close my eyes and count to ten. “I will be civil.”
“Arsinoé!” My mother's voice carries up the stairs and reverberates against my bedroom door. My sister and I look at each other in alarm. The last thing I need is her to come upstairs and start fussing about my hair and clothes.
“Coming!” I call out, slip my feet into my pink furry house slippers, check myself in the mirror and say a prayer for my sanity.
“How do I look?”
“Like a smoke show. Are you sure you don’t want him back?”
I chose this outfit because I knew Kwame would like it.
I wish I’d saved it. I curl my lip in disgust. “I want that man less than I want to get my period next week. Have fun at Shelly’s.
” I hug her and watch her rush down the stairs and call her goodbyes without stopping on her way to the front door.
I check the mirror one more time and then get downstairs as fast as my formfitting skirt will take me without breaking my neck.
“Hi, sorry to keep you—” I skid to a stop when I see the stuff of nightmares in front of me.
Stephen and Kwame. My parents are sitting next to each other on the couch with Kwame in between them, holding a phone I don’t recognize, their heads bent over a piece of paper.
“What’s going on?”
They all look up when I walk into the room, and I know right away this is even worse than I thought it would be and a weight settles on my chest. “Arsinoé, why?” My mother’s eyes are full of disappointment and horror. My father doesn’t look up, and I can’t bring myself to even look at Kwame.
“Why what?”
“Why do you have a gun?” She holds up the certificate of ownership.
I frown, alarmed, caught off guard, and irritated all at once “Did you open my mail?”
“No, I did.” Stephen gets to his feet, his expression full of worry. “And I was so shocked I felt like your parents needed to see it.”
I glare at him. “Why? Did you hit your head and forget that I’m an adult?”
“Between this, the way you left your job, left me. I felt like I had to say something.” He has concern etched all over his traitorous face.
“Sin, why did you buy a gun? You know how we feel about weapons.” My mother sounds hurt and disappointed.
I wish I could beat Stephen over the head with my shoes.
I turn to face her and my stomach sinks. She looks horrified. “Yes, I know, but I feel safe with it.”
“Safe from what? You’ve lived your whole life without one.”
“If you still lived with me you wouldn’t need that,” Stephen says.
I sputter a laugh, mind boggled that he said it with a straight face.
I didn’t want my family to know what kind of man he really was. But, the truth is, I didn’t want them to know what a fool I’d been.
I turn to my parents and the alarm on their faces makes me my stomach hurt. My eyes fill with tears. Everything I’ve been carrying suddenly feels like too much and I wish I’d told them to begin with. “The week before I came home, I walked in on someone robbing our apartment.”
I close my eyes so I can tell the rest without crying.
“In hindsight, it was silly of me not to realize something was wrong when the door wasn’t locked.
” I clasp my hands together and twirl the ring on my finger as the terror and pain of what followed finds me.
“I came face to face with a man running out of my office. He was holding my external hard drive and my laptop.” I shudder the memory.
“I always thought I’d fight back in a situation like that. But when he put a gun in face and told me he was going to kill me all I could do was pray.”
“My God, Arsinoé.” My mother’s hands fly to her face and she looks at my father with stricken eyes.
“George, our baby.” She turns back to me, her eyes wide, and my heart constricts at the hurt in them.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” My mother gets up and walks over to me.
“You have a family. That is what we are for.”
“I didn't know how. I didn’t want it to become a defining story of this part of my life. And I didn’t want you to know what kind of man I’d foolishly stayed involved with.”
“You were happy, Sin.” Stephen protests.
“I wasn’t happy in New York. I wanted to come home, so I did. It was six months ago. It’s all water under the bridge.”
“That’s not that long, and you’ve kept it all to yourself.”
“Ma, I’m fine,” I reassure her when her arms clasp me so tight it hurts.
“Where was Stephen?” My mother’s question draws me back to the story. “Where were you?” she asks a suddenly mute Stephen.
I sigh deeply and continue. “When he finally called me back, he was at the airport about to catch a flight to Vegas for a fight.”
All eyes turn to him, and he takes a step back, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly. Then he points at me. “You cheated on me,” Stephen blurts.
I ignore the collective gasp that ripples through the room and turn on him. Speechless that he laid my shit out like that.
Every eye in the room is on me, but I don’t mind. I’m not ashamed of anything I just shared, but I wouldn’t have done it this way. Now that the truth is out, I wish I’d said something months ago. The burden of this secret was heavy and isolating.
“You asshole. Yes, I was unfaithful. But only once and only after you cheated on me.” I glare at him.
“Yes, I know. I saw you with her. You made me feel like I was lucky to be with you. My family acted like it was crazy of me to leave you. And I let them to stop them from knowing that you’re a low-down lying dog who slept with the woman who sabotaged me and had just been given the promotion I worked my ass for. On my desk,” I shout.
The room was quiet before, but now it’s as still as a tomb. I can’t bring myself to look up and wait to see if anyone will say anything. Kwame has moved and is hovering near the entryway behind Stephen.
He has one hand in his pocket, a shoulder resting on the wall, legs crossed at the ankle, looking for the all the world like he’s a neutral observer. Except his eyes are darker and more intent than I’ve ever seen them.
My eyebrows knit together. Seeing him and Stephen side by side makes their generally similar appearance hard to deny but I can’t believe I ever thought they looked alike. I may have a type, but I’ve also learned how to take the true measure of a man.
As I look at Stephen now, I can’t remember what I found attractive about my ex in the first place.
“Sin, I’m so sorry,” my mother breaks the silence.
I turn to her and shake my head. “I’m not.”
“Don’t say that,” Stephen says, his face in his hands. “It was a mistake, Sin.”
“No, it wasn’t. It’s who you are. The mistake was trying to see something that wasn’t there.”
I use the last thread of my strength to stand. “Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I’m going to clean up, come back, and enjoy lunch.”