Chapter Five
Two weeks later
Lorenzo was looking forward to spending the entire Saturday with Zoie. Still, he was already on edge at the possibility of Josephine finding a way to ruin it. He hadn”t spoken to his ex since their last confrontation at his condo. He made no attempts to reach out to Josephine and was thankful she did the same. They were scheduled to appear with their attorneys before a mediator next week to see if they could resolve their issues before further actions were taken in family court. A parenting plan they agreed upon would become a court order.
Enough is enough.
His grip tightened on the leather steering wheel of the double cab pickup truck he purchased. Now that he had chosen to leave his beloved France and resettle on the East Coast, he needed to find a condo next–with a bedroom for his daughter. Then, he could focus on his next steps career-wise and decide whether to keep his apartment in Paris.
He had to admit that these types of choices were the ones he wanted to avoid by not having children. His freedom had once been uppermost–but now Zoie was. He loved her. And not because she looked like him, was intelligent, funny, and a cool kid, but simply because she was his child. God’s plan for him was different from his own.
And I’m thankful.
“I’m a dad,” he said aloud as he turned the corner in South Orange, New Jersey, per the directions of his phone’s GPS.
He chuckled.
It had only been a few weeks, and he was still wrapping his brain around having a mini-me.
And Josephine back in my life.
Admittedly, he used to wonder if he would ever see the creative beauty again and, at times, had longed to do just that. To experience her again. Her smile. Her joy. Her creativity and spontaneity.
And her loving.
He used to envision running into her and them enjoying one last fling before going their separate ways again. Just one more night between her thighs or behind her.
Or sweet God beneath her.
One time, he had went hoarse from roaring with the climax she drew from him as she rode him slowly in a snake-like motion.
Lorenzo pulled to a stop at a red traffic light. He was far from innocent in the pleasures of a woman. Still, he had yet to find another to match the chemistry and freedom he enjoyed in Josephine’s bed. She had been his equal in experience and adventure. They did it all. He chuckled as a shiver raced down his spine and he had to give himself a little shake. Just the very memory of her electrified him.
But they had more than great sex. Lorenzo had felt a profound love for the beauty. And he thought she loved him just as deeply. Outside of losing herself in her art, Zoie had made him feel he was all she needed. She had made him feel adored. Maybe even worshiped. And he had poured the same fierce devotion into her.
The traffic light changed, and a horn blew behind him. He left the past behind and noticed his thumb was lightly stroking the wheel as if he caressed her soft, sweet-smelling skin. Angry at himself for letting the past draw him in, Lorenzo accelerated forward as he balled his hand into a fist of frustration.
When he drove the few blocks to pull in front of Josephine’s house, his annoyance at himself and her was at an all-time high. Through the windshield, he looked at the two-story home with its white paint, navy door and shutters, and brick porch. It was well-kept with great curb appeal–and nothing at all what he would think his Josie would buy.
But my Josie is gone.
One of the front double doors opened, and Zoie stepped out onto the porch with enthusiastic waves and a huge smile in jeans and a glittery sweater. He waved back as he removed his seatbelt and opened the door to make his way to the tree-lined sidewalk. “Ready to go?” he asked, looking up at her on the top step.
“My mom wants to talk to you first,” she said before reentering the house.
Oh shit. What now?
He eased his hands into the front pockets of the jeans he wore with a bulky sweater, leather parka, and boots. His hopes to scoop Zoie up and flee were dashed. His reluctance was evident in his slow movement up the brick steps. As he entered the small vestibule, he saw the glass door to the house was left open. He could smell the appetizing scent of bacon, and his stomach rumbled. His first planned activity for them of the day was going to breakfast, so he was starving.
Lorenzo knocked twice on the door before easing it open to enter the living room. The sedate decor of whites and grays with lots of wood trim in the Craftsman home was nice–but again, it was nothing like her small apartment that had been bursting with bright colors and whimsical items like an umbrella serving as the cover of a light fixture.
This was as neat and boring as her beloved suits.
“Lorenzo.”
He shifted his eyes away from a large 12x16 photo of Zoie and her mother to find Josephine standing there with her hair pulled back in her low bun and wearing a bulky and shapeless light gray sweatsuit. “When did you fall in love with the color gray?” he asked, hearing his judgment.
Josephine looked down at her outfit and then up at him. “Huh?” she asked.
“Never mind,” he muttered, looking up the stairs as Zoie came down wearing a winter white outer coat and matching sweater hat. The child was a fashionista. “Ready to go? I made plans.”
Josephine crossed her arms over her chest. “I told her we needed to talk first,” she said.
He turned his lips downward and briefly shook his head. “No, we don’t,” he said.
“Daddy,” Zoie playfully chastised as she passed her parents to enter the kitchen.
Josephine gave him a smile as she pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “I have pancakes and bacon for breakfast,” she said. “I made a little extra in case you”re hungry.”
“Zoie already ate?” he asked.
“What?” Josephine said, seemingly surprised by his obvious annoyance.
“I wanted to take her to my favorite diner for breakfast,” he said.
“Okay, look, let me get to my point,” she said, rubbing her hands across her brows as she paced a bit in front of the stairs.
“Please.”
Josephine looked over her shoulder at the wide entry into the brightly lit kitchen. “Follow me,” she said, moving past the stairs and down the hall to open a door he assumed led into the basement.
Lorenzo frowned.
“Please,” she said, giving him a meaningful nod towards the kitchen where Zoie was enjoying another piece of bacon and watching them.
He could understand the need for privacy. Their little girl was exceptionally bright and missed not very much at all. He was annoyed with Josephine, but they seemed to agree not to argue in front of their daughter. So, he retraced her steps to the door. “Am I safe?” he asked low in his throat as he passed her to descend the stairs.
“Are you scared?” she said behind his broad back.
“Yeah,” he told her, only slightly joking.
How far was she willing to go to keep me out of Zoie’s life?
One well-placed kick on his back to send him tumbling down the stairs could grant her wish to be rid of him for good!
The basement was finished, and the windows at the top of the walls offered light as he took in what was fashioned to be a game room/den. Here, there was a little more color. He didn’t know why he felt relief to see a tiny spark of the old Josie.
He turned to watch her descend the stairs in sock-covered feet. “So, what now? You won’t let her spend the day with me?” he asked. “Because if not, I will call the police this time. It’s enough of your bull, Josephine. I’m her father, and I have rights.”
“The police!” she exclaimed. “Lorenzo, don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m serious!” he declared.
The basement door opened, and Zoie soon looked down at them. “Everything okay?” she asked in concern.
They both looked up at her.
“Everything’s fine,” Josephine lied.
“Everything’s perfect,” Lorenzo said, adding to her untruth.
Zoie looked suspiciously from one parent to the other. “You’re arguing,” she surmised. “And that’s unnecessary to me.”
“You ready now, Zoie?” Lorenzo asked.
Their daughter shook her head. “Not yet, Daddy,” she said as she leaned in the doorway and crossed her arms over her chest. “Look, I get it. I’m a great kid. I’m smart. I don’t make many waves. I have a great vibe. My abuela says my aura is luminous. I’m funny and fashionable. I would love to be around me, too. Thankfully, there is plenty of me…to share.”
Lorenzo lowered his head to hide his smile.
God, I love this kid.
“There is no need to fight,” she continued. “Right?”
Josephine and Lorenzo shared a brief look. “Right,” they said in unison.
“So, figure it out,” she said, taking a step back as she held the knob to the door. “I promise to patiently wait in the living room in front of the television safely as you figure it out.”
With that said, Zoie closed the door.
Moments later, the sound of the lock being turned echoed.
Lorenzo and Josephine shared another look–this time of alarm–before they both took off up the stairs.
“No, she didn’t,” Lorenzo said as Josephine tried the door.
It was indeed locked.
Lorenzo eased in front of her and tried it as well. No go. He lowered his forehead against the wood. “Zoie. This is Daddy. This is not funny, mi hija. Please, open this door,” he said pleasantly, hoping to sway her. “Please.”
“Please?” Josephine snapped, dissatisfied with his response. She grabbed his arm to move him out of the way. “Zoie, this is not funny, and it’s not a game. Open this door now.”
Silence.
Soon, the sound of some animated show on the television began to play loudly.
“Shit,” Lorenzo swore.
“Are we raising her, or is she trying to raise us?” Josephine snapped before stalking down the stairs.
“We!” he balked. “I just met our daughter this month. This is twelve years of your parenting.”
She whirled like the Tasmanian Devil to glare up at him. “Look, I’m sorry. What the hell more do you want from me?” she yelled, fire blazing in her eyes and tone.
“Welcome back, Josie,” he said quietly as he eyed the all-too-familiar ardor that lit her eyes.Suddenly, the dreary woman in gray was painted in vibrant colors before him.
She waved her hand dismissively at him and sucked air between her teeth. “Stop judging me for how I chose to live my damn life, Lorenzo,” she spat.
“Boring,” he said.
They locked eyes.
“Look, I’m waving the white flag,” she said. “I want to do better with making room for you in Zoie’s life. It’s clear she wants a relationship with you–”
“What brought on the change?” he asked. “The lawsuit?”
“Partly. Yes,” she admitted.
“Then I don’t see a need to get rid of it,” he said.
Josephine hung her head and worked her shoulders as if relieving stress.“I did what I had to do for our daughter,” she said, now sounding defeated.
He gave her a sardonic laugh. “You did what you wanted for her,” he chewed out. “I had nothing to do with it; that was your choice.”
Josephine placed her hands on her hips and shook her head. “I did what I thought I had to do,” she said softly before looking up at him with tears.
Lorenzo fought and won the battle within himself to offer her comfort. This woman kept his child from him. No memories of the past could change the realities of the present.“Why?” he asked her. “Why take it on alone? Did you really think I wouldn’t have helped you?”
She used the back of her hand to swipe away a tear that raced down her cheek. “I know you would have,” she said. “But you told me you didn’t want to, and I didn’t want to take your freedom. Or make you pay child support for a child you made it clear to me you did not want. It was my choice. My body and my choice are my responsibility, Zo. Anything else didn’t see fair to you.”
“Keeping her from me wasn’t fair either,” he shot back, feeling the fire of his anger and hurt in his own eyes. “Not giving me the chance to decide for myself wasn’t fair.”
“I set you free!” she exclaimed, imploring him with her eyes to understand her reasoning.
He didn’t.
“And played the martyr for all these years?” he asked.
Josephine hugged herself. “Maybe it wasn’t the huge grand gesture that I thought it was, but I felt like I put my baby and you ahead of me. Whatever love and light I had, I gave to her.”
“So now you live in the shades of gray?” he asked, not hiding his confusion at how it made sense to her. “Because I see no sign of the woman I used to know. None.”
She turned her back to him.
“As pissed off as I am at you keeping me out of Zoie’s life, I am just as angry and sick of this shell of you,” he said, not holding back as he circled her trembling body to stand before her. “Why are you punishing yourself? For what? You got everything you wanted.”
She allowed the tears that seemed pent up in her soul to fly down her cheeks earnestly as she looked up at him, locked eyes, and spoke her truth. “No, I didn’t because I lost you,” she whispered before biting down on her quivering bottom lip. “I lost you, and it broke my heart, and I couldn’t find my way back to the version of me that loved you and missed you.”
And there, in her eyes, Lorenzo saw the truth of her words.
“Good to know.”
At the sound of the male voice, they both looked up at Brent standing at the top of the stairs with the door now opened. The man’s face was framed in hurt. Lorenzo released a heavy breath. He was glad to be freed of the basement, the trouble on the horizon between the couple, and the look of pure pain in Josephine’s eyes.
Brent continued down the stairs, and Lorenzo didn’t cast him a look as he passed him to climb the flight of steps. He knew he appeared calm. But that was a farce. His heart was pounding. Wildly so.
“I lost you, and it broke my heart, and I couldn’t find my way back to the version of me that loved you and missed you.”
Her words left him more confused than ever.
He didn’t find Zoie in the living room. Grasping the staircase railing, he looked up to the second floor. “Zoie!” he called.
She appeared within seconds, still dressed in her outerwear. Her inner light was dimmer, and her face a bit sad. That tugged at his already fast-pounding heart. As soon as she reached the first floor, he pulled her body against his to hug her. “Hey, I’m sorry our arguing upset you, Zoie,” he said before bending to press a light kiss to her cheek.
She nodded as they made their way to the front door. “Sorry I locked you in,” she said, sounding contrite. “I did a lot to find you, and I just don’t want the two of you to mess this up for me.”
He stopped. “You ready to share just how you put the pieces together?” he asked, touching Zoie’s shoulder to pause her steps.
She looked up at him with bright eyes. “Do I have to?” she asked.
“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “But I am curious about this little secret you’re keeping from your mother and me.”
“Daddy, I’m a snooper,” Zoie admitted, making her eyes woeful.
“A what?” Lorenzo asked, his handsome face a mask of confusion.
“Sometimes I look through my mom’s things, and I found a box in her closet full of stuff about you,” she confessed.
“About me?” he asked, pointing a finger at his chest.
Zoie nodded.
Lorenzo debated whether to ask the obvious question or not. Hell with it. “What was in it?” he asked, pushing aside any reservations about getting intel from a child.
“Uhm, a braided leather bracelet, a locket with a picture of y’all in it, some birthday cards,” Zoie said, ticking off each of her slender fingers and scrunching her face as she tried to remember. “Old Birthday cards and notes, your cookbooks–”
“My cookbooks?” he asked, more than surprised.
“Yup. And this mold of your head,” she finished.
“A sculpture,” he corrected her, sounding distracted because his mind was full of the memory of sitting for the piece as she skillfully molded and shaved clay. On many occasions, they both had been naked, and then they’d get distracted from her art piece because they were nude.
“I need to apologize to Mama for snooping when we get back, huh?” Zoie asked as they continued their pace forward.
“Sounds like a good idea,” Lorenzo said.
They stepped down into the vestibule. As he pulled the glass-paned door closed, he looked through it and across the living room to the open door of the basement.
“I lost you, and it broke my heart, and I couldn’t find my way back to the version of me that loved you and missed you.”
Their daughter’s revelation of her mother’s keepsakes had just supplied legitimacy to Josephine’s words of heartbreak.
What do I do with that…and what will Brent do?
∞
Brent stared at Josephine across the length of the pool table, where they stood on opposite ends. Her engagement ring was sitting in the middle, atop the green felt. He eyed it and then looked up at her through his glasses.
Josephine inhaled deeply and pinched the bridge of her nose as she leaned forward, pressing her thighs against the wooden base of the table. For the last few hours, she and Brent had examined and flushed out every aspect of their relationship, from meeting each other to their engagement. And how everything changed with the arrival of Lorenzo Léon Cortez into their lives.
“You’re leaving me to have him?” Brent asked, filling the awkward silence.
“Definitely not,” she said. “Lorenzo’s no happier with me now than before.”
“But you want him to be?” Brent asked, his voice so steady and so calm.
Too steady and too calm.
It felt more like an exit interview than a breakup.
“I’ve already answered that, Brent,” she said. “And my answer has not changed. This is not about Lorenzo.”
And that was the truth.
“But it is about something he said,” she admitted.
Brent sat down on the edge of the pool table and gave her a look.
“So now you live in the shades of gray? Because I see no sign of the woman I used to know. None.”
“He said I live in the shades of gray, and he’s right,” she admitted. “I don’t see any signs of the woman I used to be. None.”
She knew she used his words, but they had rung true.
Brent rose to his feet.
She held up her hand to stop his movement around the table. “I never told you I was an artist,” she revealed to him.
Brent’s face showed his surprise.
“I was good. Brilliant,” Josephine said with confidence. “It was my everything. I was a starving artist with wild hair, always barefoot, always seeking beauty and joy. It was fun, Brent.”
She tilted her head back to look up at the ceiling before closing her eyes and being absorbed by the memory of enjoying standing in the sun. Her smile was soft as she remembered the freedom she used to enjoy.
The freedom I didn’t want to take from Lorenzo.
“What are you doing?”
She didn’t open her eyes. “I used to always be outside. Any reason to be in the sun. I would press my bare feet in the grass, absorb the sun in my skin, and feel reenergized.”
“Doesn’t sound very sanitary,” he said.
She fought the urge to release a sad sigh. Instead, she looked at him. “But that’s who I was–who I am,” she said.
He looked confused. “I don’t understand,” he said.
“I know,” she admitted, not judging him but accepting that who they were at their core was very different.
“As pissed off as I am at you keeping me out of Zoie’s life, I am just as angry and sick of this shell of you.”
She looked at the engagement ring on the table. “I owe you an apology because you deserve to know, love, and marry someone who shows you exactly who they are and not who they think they have to be,” she said, her words soft.
“Why are you punishing yourself?”
Lorenzo had seen past the facade and called her on it.
“How can I share my life with someone when I don’t even know who I am anymore?” she asked, speaking more to herself than him.
Brent did move around the table to pick up the engagement ring. He held it pinched between his index and thumb. “Or are you changing to become who Lorenzo wants you to be?” he asked,his tone slightly accusing.
She shook her head. “But he does remind me of who I used to be,” she acknowledged. “The happy soul I was even before I met him.”
Brent stared at the ring now in the palm of his hand. “I deserve a woman who can give me her whole heart,” he said. “And not just the pieces of the one that’s broken.”
She didn”t miss that he was giving her back the words that he had overheard. “That’s true,” she said softly.
He nodded and slid the ring into his navy winter coat pocket. “Once I leave, I’m not coming back,” he said before looking at her.
“I understand,” she told him, not wanting to say anything to hurt him further.
They shared one last look, and they both knew it was goodbye.
With a nod, he climbed the stairs and left the basement. A few moments later, the front door being closed echoed.
“Damn,” she swore, massaging circles on her temples to ease a rising headache.
Ending her engagement had not been a part of her to-do list. Between that and confessing far more than she ever meant to Lorenzo, Josephine felt tired. Sleep would be an escape from some facts she hadn’t been ready to face.
She climbed the steps and flipped the switch to turn off the lights before leaving the basement and closing the door. She ensured the doors of her home were locked before slowly making her way up the stairs to her bedroom. With much relief, she lay atop the queen-sized bed and curled her body into a ball. Sleep was coming, but anxiety about the morning’s events was plentiful. She kept replaying every moment. After revealing her broken heart to Lorenzo and ending her relationship with Brent, she was thankful Zoie was with her father. She could only find inner peace being alone.
“So now you live in the shades of gray? Because I see no sign of the woman I used to know. None.”
“Or are you changing to become who Lorenzo wants you to be?”
“So now you live in the shades of gray? Because I see no sign of the woman I used to know. None.”
“Or are you changing to become who Lorenzo wants you to be?”
“So now you live in the shades of gray? Because I see no sign of the woman I used to know. None.”
“Or are you changing to become who Lorenzo wants you to be?”
Josephine was thankful when her eyes began to feel heavy, and she finally drifted asleep…
With a yawn and stretch, she awakened but snuggled deeper beneath the covers, enjoying the cool feel of her pillow against her face. She began thinking about what she had to do for the day when her bedroom door opened. She looked over her shoulder to find Lorenzo entering, followed by Brent.
She sat up in bed to eye them as they claimed a spot on each side of her bed. Back and forth, she looked from one to the other.
“So now you live in the shades of gray? Because I see no sign of the woman I used to know. None,” Lorenzo said.
“Or are you changing to become who Lorenzo wants you to be?” Brent asked.
Josephine pressed her hands to her ears and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Mama, where are you?” she heard Zoie call up to her.
She opened her eyes. “I’m here, Zoie,” she called back, trying and failing to leave the bed. She felt stuck like it was quicksand. “I’m right here!”
“Mama, where are you?”
“Help me!” she pled to Brent and Lorenzo.
Both pointed to the mirror atop the dresser across from her bed. She looked and released a scream that echoed. For what seemed a hundred times in a minute, her face switched between free-spirited Josie and solemn Josephine. Back and forth. Again and again. Soon the mirror exploded, sending shards of glass flying towards her!
Josephine jolted up in bed with her heart pounding.
“It was a nightmare,” she sighed in relief as she pressed a hand to her chest, trembling in fright.
She picked up her cell phone from the charging pad on her nightstand and saw that she’d been asleep for hours. And in truth, she could stand a few more. Sitting in the middle of her bed, she eyed her reflection in the mirror above her eight-drawer dresser.
Where are you?
She looked pensive, thinking of how her daughter couldn’t find her in the dream. It made her feel like it represented being lost. Not sure who she was meant to be.
And if I don’t know who I am, how can I guide Zoie to be her best, most authentic self?
She sighed.
With the afternoon sun outlining her body, she removed the tie around her hair. Sliding it onto her wrist, she ran her fingers through her curls and shook them free until they framed her face.As she studied her reflection, the dream seemed all the more revealing.
Who am I?
Pain and a bit of sadness swelled in her chest. Tears rose.Covering her face with her hands, Josephine wept. The reasons seemed limitless, and the crying was also without end.And with the release, so many things came to her during the flood. So many regrets. Fears. Worries. She felt so out of control of her own life.
And who she was meant to be.
The weight of staying in the safety of the shades of gray was too heavy to bear.
As was hurting Brent. Failing Zoie. And betraying Lorenzo.
With a soft wail, she fell backward onto her bed and splayed her legs and arms like she made a snow angel. Her exhaustion was emotional. She breathed and turned to gaze at the sunlight filling the window. She closed her eyes.
It was so quiet that the songs of the birds outside were crystal clear.
No faint sounds of cartoons or a preteen chatting away on her phone. No need to cook. Or entertain, advise, or even listen. No music from artists far out of her generation. It had been so long that she had been surrounded–and hugged–by the quiet.
The silence was peaceful.
So very peaceful.
Josephine raised her brows and released a soft grunt. “Have I missed out on the goodness of having a co-parent?” she asked.
Her answer was more of the peaceful silence.
And with all of the day”s drama, she wanted even more.
She picked up her cell phone to text Lorenzo. “How’s it going?” she typed.
ZO: Fine…until now.
She arched a brow.
“Okay. I just wanted to know if you could keep Zoie overnight,” she said aloud as she typed with her thumbs.
She shook her head at the shocked emoji he sent. “I’ll meet you with a change of clothes,” she typed.
ZO: No need. We’re at a movie theater in a mall. We’ll shop.
A bit of fear rose at what they would choose, but Josephine looked at her reflection and shook her head, denying the limiting feeling. All of her questions to second-guess him faded.
JOSIE: Okay. I’ll scoop her up tomorrow.
She set the phone down on the bed beside her. For the first time in a very long time, she put herself first. She was going to trust in the man she once loved to do right by their child and pay a little attention to her own needs and wants. Not Brent. Not Lorenzo. Not Zoie.
“Me,” she said, eyeing her reflection and taking in her wild hair.
Her cell phone vibrated. She flipped it over on the bed. A text.
ZO: You okay?
She looked out the window. Lorenzo knew Brent had overheard her confession to him. For him to take a moment to check on her, felt like a first thaw in their cold war.
JOSIE: Yes.
That was a lie.
ZO: Zoie found a box of things you have about us. That’s how she figured out I’m her dad.
Josephine’s heart pounded, and she gasped. “That little snooper!” she whispered as she looked over to the open door of her closet at the brown leather box on the shelf. Her daughter had invaded her privacy and revealed to her father that she held onto mementos of him.
That plus everything she said to him in the basement!
He must be feeling himself.
She looked down at the phone, wondering what to say. She climbed off the bed with the device still in her hand. Quickly, she crossed the moderate-sized room decorated in more shades of gray to firmly close the closet door on any memories of their past. She wasn”t ready.
Not now. Not yet.
JOSIE: THANKS.
At the moment, it was all she had to give and all the response he was getting.