Chapter 9
Jamison
"See you later, Jim."
I lifted my hand in a silent goodbye as I exited the state-of-the-art fitness center.
I had fallen in love with this facility, a brand-new, sprawling, two-story building that included amenities more impressive than the gym near my condo: group fitness classes, a lounge, a smoothie bar, a saltwater lap pool, and even tanning beds.
I said goodbye to my old hangout and never looked back.
Sweat cooling on my skin, I slung my duffel bag over my shoulder and walked into the morning sunshine.
I had purposely parked at the opposite end of the lot near the wedding boutique so I could get in extra steps.
When I arrived an hour ago, seeing the store had reminded me of Manuel and his pending marriage.
He and Blossom were going ring shopping this afternoon.
I still hadn't wrapped my head around the fact that my son was getting married.
This was a kid who used to scream bloody murder if I didn't let him wear his Spiderman costume to the grocery store and could never keep up with his shoes, somehow losing one almost every time we left the house.
He was getting married and about to take on the responsibility of a wife in less than three months and might become a father soon after.
One day, I asked him why the big rush.
"I don't want to wait for the rest of my life to begin," he had said.
His answer surprised and impressed me and made me realize he was more mature than I had given him credit for. He also truly loved Blossom.
As I crossed the lot, three women exiting the boutique caught my attention, and I immediately recognized two of them.
Tallulah and Blossom.
Manuel had told me he and Blossom had worked on the budget and her family had taken on some of the expense. Though relieved, I felt guilty and a bit ashamed of my initial reaction to my son covering the entire wedding expense.
My eyes focused on Tallulah. Her wide-leg pants in a soft, blue shade moved when she walked.
The fabric skimmed her hips and legs, relaxed but still showing off her figure.
A comfortable yet elegant outfit. The sleeveless white top hugged her torso, and the small crossbody bag nestled between her breasts made me briefly forget how my lungs worked and caused a tightening in my chest.
Flat leather sandals showed off her feet, simple and elegant like her clothes. No heels. I wasn't surprised. She hadn't worn any the other times we met. If I had to guess, she probably preferred to go barefoot.
Her locs were pulled into a loose, sculpted style at the crown of her head, part bun, part art installation, with a few ropey strands framing her face and brushing her neck.
Gold hoops caught the light when she laughed, and her wrists were stacked with wood, stone, and metal bracelets.
A pendant hung around her neck from black rope, its burnished gold color matching the earrings in her ears.
She glanced in my direction, and her eyes widened in surprise. I couldn't blame her. She probably wondered what the hell she was looking at. Her appearance was flawless. Put together. I, on the other hand, looked like someone who had barely survived leg day.
My tank top was plastered to my chest, and my hair lay flat and lifeless against my head. My gym-issue shorts were unremarkable, reminding me the duffel bag over my shoulder contained a fresh change of clothes I now desperately wished I had utilized.
Oh, and I stunk. As I neared them, I straightened my posture as if that would help. As if standing taller could magically dry my skin, wipe the stank off me, and turn my tank top into a respectable piece of clothing like one of my suits.
"Ms. Washington. Blossom."
"Hi," Blossom said, dragging out the word with an odd pitch to her voice.
I couldn't shake the feeling that I intimidated her.
"Hello, Jamison. You were working out, I see," Tallulah remarked.
She assessed me from head to toe. Self-consciously, I combed my damp hair back from my forehead with my fingers.
"Yes. I come here regularly. It's a little out of the way, but it's a great facility." My gaze shifted to the young woman with them who sported an impressive-looking Afro.
"This is my niece, Keke. This is Jamison Harris, Manuel's father."
"Nice to meet you." She extended a hand, and we shook briefly.
"You were dress shopping, I guess? Find anything you like?"
They all three glanced at each other, a smile of satisfaction on each of their faces.
"I did. I chose the first one I tried on," Blossom said.
My eyebrows lifted higher. "I always figured finding the perfect dress took weeks or months of shopping."
"The process does take time, but sometimes women get lucky and find the perfect gown right away.
Today happened to be my day," Blossom said.
"We're on our way to lunch, and then I'm meeting Manuel to pick out our rings.
Next week we have to decide on the venue and the cake.
So much to do in a short amount of time. "
She didn't seem worried. Excitement glittered in her lovely eyes.
"I'm sure you'll both accomplish what you need to." I stifled a yawn by covering my mouth. I still wasn't sleeping well.
Blossom tilted her head sideways. "Are you okay?" she asked carefully.
"Nothing a short nap won't fix." Assuming I could fall asleep.
"Manuel told me that you suffer from insomnia?"
Great, my son was telling all my business during pillow talk.
"I'm sure it's an easy fix," I said, downplaying the problem. "I made an appointment with a specialist to find out what's going on." Hopefully, they'd give me a prescription to help.
"Maybe you don't need a doctor." Blossom turned toward her mother, an unspoken question in her eyes.
Tallulah shifted from one foot to the other, decidedly uneasy. "I'm sure Jamison is not interested in hearing about any of my ideas."
"You have a solution for insomnia?" I asked, interested despite myself.
"My mother has helped a lot of people with her herbal and nontraditional remedies," Blossom said.
"I wouldn't say a lot," Tallulah hedged.
"Thousands. Tens of thousands, I'm sure," her daughter insisted.
Tallulah shot her a Be quiet glare, but Blossom wasn't paying attention.
I didn't have much confidence in non-traditional solutions.
Yes, I took vitamins and believed eating good food was important for good health, but I also believed there were a lot of quacks running around taking people's money and pretending their holistic potions were better than traditional medicine.
"Mom, you probably have something that could help him, right?"
"Jamison said he's going to see a specialist. I'm sure he—"
"I'm interested, actually."
I couldn't believe those words had left my mouth.
Neither could Tallulah, apparently, if her raised eyebrows were any indication.
Maybe I was more desperate than I wanted to admit.
My primary care physician had referred me to a sleep specialist, but my appointment was six weeks away.
I had no intention of canceling my appointment, but it couldn't hurt to try something in the meantime.
As long as whatever she had in mind wasn't too out of the ordinary, like drinking soup made of bat's wings or sheep's balls.
"I'm not a doctor, but I might be able to help. How long have you been suffering from lack of sleep?" Tallulah asked with what seemed like genuine concern.
"Almost six months," I answered.
"A long time."
Next thing I knew, I was having a consultation in the parking lot.
Tallulah asked me a series of questions, and I answered as if I were sitting in a doctor's office.
Actually, I don't think a doctor has ever shown as much interest in digging into the source of my problem the way she was.
Usually, they made me feel like a number instead of a person, shuttling me in and out as quickly as possible.
I don't know if I really believed Tallulah could help, but I appreciated her interest, and her questions forced me to analyze my situation in a way I hadn't before.
"I have a couple of suggestions," she said at the end of the consultation. "First, don't use your electronic devices right before you plan to go to sleep. Phone, iPad, none of them."
My disappointment in her recommendation must have shown on my face because she pursed her lips.
"Do you want to get better sleep?" she asked.
"I do," I said.
"Try what I'm saying for a couple of weeks and see if there's an improvement. As I was saying, don't use your electronic devices right before going to sleep. The blue light they emit reduces the body's natural production of melatonin, which helps us feel sleepy."
"How long before bed should I stop using my electronics?" I asked, bracing for the worst.
"Start with an hour."
"An hour!" I exclaimed.
"Mom never let me use my phone in bed as a kid, and I do the same now and sleep like a baby every night," Blossom said.
I scratched my head. "Okay, what else?"
"Do you have a programmable thermostat?" Tallulah asked.
"I do."
"Schedule the temperature in your house no higher than sixty-seven degrees at bedtime. Our internal body temperature decreases when we're ready for sleep, and a cool room helps the process and activates sleep-promoting hormones."
She gave a few more suggestions, including doing eye exercises while my eyes were closed, which she demonstrated. I don't know how I didn't laugh. Probably because I was afraid she might punch me if I did.
Finally, she ended with, "The eye exercises don't work for everyone. If they don't, I recommend you take magnesium glycinate, but of course, consult your doctor first. Magnesium glycinate is a calming mineral. It relaxes the brain and is gentle on the stomach."
She had given me quite a list, none of which involved taking drugs. I was intrigued. "Do you recommend any particular brand?"
She gave the names of two brands—one of which I was fairly certain I had seen at my local supermarket—and recommended a dosage.
"Thank you. I'll try your suggestions." I was willing to try anything to get some rest. Sleep deprivation wasn't only causing me to be tired. I also suffered from occasional headaches and figured they'd only get worse.
"If you have follow-up questions, Mom would be happy to help. I mean, we're all going to be family soon." Blossom looked at her mother. "You should give him your number."
Tallulah's smile was tight. "Should I?"
Keke turned away and coughed, which sounded suspiciously like laughing.
"You don't have to give me your number. You've done enough," I said.
"No, Blossom's right. If you have questions, call me, and I'll be happy to answer them." Tallulah removed a sage green card from the small crossbody bag and scribbled a number on the back. "My cell."
To my surprise, she had horrible handwriting. It was like chicken scratch.
I pointed. "Is that a four, or..."
"Six," she said.
"Oh, okay. And, um, this number right here is—"
She interrupted my question, rattling off the entire number. Hopefully, I'd never need to call her because I wouldn't remember what she said.
"Got it. Thank you. I'll leave you ladies alone so you can head to lunch."
We parted ways.
On the way to my car, a silver and orange VW bus passed me, and I wasn't surprised to see Tallulah behind the wheel. An orange and blue dreamcatcher with blue feathers hung from the rearview mirror.
Blossom waved, and I waved back, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.