After Brandon’s death, Carmella and Karen tried to reach Damita every day, sometimes several times a day, to no avail. There were several messages from Carmella on Damita’s voicemail.
“Damita, your mother and I are really starting to get worried. We’ve both been calling for days and have gotten no response. You’re probably shaken up by Brandon’s death, but your mother thinks you might be hurt or worse. If you’re okay or if you’re not; whatever is going on, please call one of us as soon as possible.”
“Is it them again?” Neal asked.
“Yes.”
“You should probably call them back and you need to get out of that bed and take a shower.”
“They will want to know why I won’t see them or why I’m not going to Brandon’s funeral.”
“You aren’t going?”
“How can I go? Look at me. My job may have believed that story about a car accident, but Carmella and my mother never will.”
“Why wouldn’t they believe it? They both consider me a joke. It would never occur to either of them that I’m capable of any of the things you’re insinuating.”
“As soon as they see me they’ll know what happened. Neal, you and I both know there is a big difference between what a person looks like after a car accident and what they look like after being beaten. After all, isn’t that why you called in a doctor for a house call? A visit to the hospital would have brought a great deal of questions.”
“I did it for us. We have to work this all out on our own. The moment we start allowing other people to intrude on our relationship is the moment everything is over.”
“When are you leaving for rehab?” Damita asked.
“I’m leaving as soon as your nurse gets here.”
“Neal, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course you can.”
“Why did you hire a nurse for me? Was it so you could have someone around to keep tabs on me?”
“I hired the nurse to take care of you. You’re in no position to care for yourself.”
The irony of it all was incredible. He had hired someone to take care of her because of the injuries he himself had inflicted.
“What did you tell her?”
“What did I tell the nurse?”
“Yes. What did you tell her about our situation?”
Neal’s face took on a haughty expression. “She works for me. I didn’t tell her anything but the fact that you have a broken rib and two broken fingers and that you would need a nurse for a couple of weeks, maybe more. Besides, there is no situation.”
As if on cue, the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get that,” Neal offered.
“Hello, I’m Florence. I will be your wife’s nurse.”
A woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties, and spoke with a thick Jamaican accent, entered the living room. She was wearing a white uniform and sensible white shoes. Her brown, medium-length hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and she wore very little makeup. Despite her rich mocha complexion, her skin seemed sallow. Neal wondered if it was due to the long hours many nurses worked.
“Great! I’m going to be out of town for a few weeks, but I believe everything you need is right here.”
“Is your wife able to walk on her own?”
“She has a broken rib, so she’s moving a little slow, but she can walk on her own.”
“Mr. Westman, will I be able to reach you in case of an emergency?”
“I will have a very limited ability to communicate. I will call you and check in when I can. And, Florence, I don’t want my wife disturbed. She is to spend the time resting. That means no work calls, no girlfriends and no mother.”
The nurse’s face had a look of confusion. “Mr. Westman, I believe there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not security. I’m a nurse. My duty is to care for your wife’s medical and physical needs.”
Neal handed Florence a fist full of cash.
“I’ll see to it that your wife is not disturbed while you’re away,” Florence quickly responded.
With all the talk people engaged in about racism, Neal was always aware of the fact that green was the most powerful color in America.
Damita strained her ears to listen and was surprised to find that a trait she used to find so impressive, now seemed weak and unflattering. Neal had been born into money. His father’s architectural firm was world-renowned and boasted some of the most influential clients in the country. When his parents died, everything was left to Neal. His money and reputation opened doors many people only dreamed of. They got the best tables at restaurants. If there was ever a need for any kind of assistance, Neal knew the person to talk to in order to get it done. When they were dating, Damita had to admit that she was impressed by his power. Now, however, she realized that money could buy you a lot of things, but it couldn’t buy anyone a soul.
Neal brought Florence into the bedroom to introduce her to Damita.
“Damita, this is Florence. She’s going to be taking care of you for a while.”
“Hello, Florence,” Damita said.
“Hi, Damita. Is there anything you need?”
“Oh no, I’m fine right now. Why don’t you get settled. You can put your things in the guest bedroom.”
“No worries, Mrs. Westman. Your husband already showed me where I could put my things. Right now I’m at your disposal. What can I help you with? Mr. Westman mentioned that you might want to take a shower.”
Damita glanced over at Neal, trying to conceal her annoyance. In everything he did there was that ever-present element of control.
Florence didn’t miss the look on Damita’s face. She had worked in enough homes and dealt with enough families to know when there were untold secrets afoot.
“No rush. I understand you have a broken rib. That can be very painful. Whenever you’re ready to take a shower or even a sponge bath, I’m here to provide whatever assistance you need.”
Damita didn’t want to like Florence because she was hired by Neal but she didn’t miss her intervention at that moment and it helped her to like the woman a bit more.
“In the meantime, are you hungry or would you like something to drink?”
“You don’t have to cook for me.”
“One of the nice things about private duty is we can make it up as we go along. I don’t mind cooking, if you don’t.”
Damita laughed and frowned simultaneously, thanks to her rib pain. “No complaints here. I’m not exactly a wiz around the kitchen,” Damita added.
“I can attest to that,” Neal offered.
Damita looked at Neal as if he had just entered the room, wondering when he would be leaving. “What time is your appointment?” she asked.
“I should probably leave now.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Westman. I will take very good care of your wife.”
“I’m not worried at all.”
Florence watched as Neal walked over to the bed and kissed Damita goodbye. The woman’s response to her husband’s touch spoke volumes. If she didn’t know it before, Florence was relatively sure how Mrs. Westman’s rib came to be broken. She was suddenly sorry she had taken the extra money to help limit the woman’s contact with the outside world.
“I’ll call you as soon as I can,” Neal said as he was leaving.
Damita suddenly looked relieved. “Okay,” was her only response.
Florence noticed that the moment Neal Westman walked out the door there was a noticeable shift in the energy in the apartment.
“So what’s it going to be, Mrs. Westman? Would you like food and drink first or a shower?”
Damita laughed and waved her hand in front of her nose. “Definitely a shower first,” she said.
Damita didn’t realize how incapacitated she was until Florence helped her out of the bed so she could take a shower. However, after a day or so, the more she moved around, the easier it got. She believed she was finally ready to talk to Carmella and her mother. She decided she would call Carmella first. Although Florence was taking a break and having a cup of tea in the kitchen, Damita picked up her cell phone and shut the bedroom door, fully aware that the nurse could be spying on her at Neal’s request.
• • •
“Hi, Carmella. It’s me, Damita.”
“Where the hell have you been and why on Earth are you whispering? Your mother and I have been trying to reach you for days. What is going on?”
“Nothing, I’m fine.”
“That’s bullshit. What has that bastard done? Neal has something to do with this.”
“Carmella, it’s not that simple and I don’t want to talk about it. At least, not yet. I need you to trust me for now, okay?”
“Are you sure? There have never been any secrets between us.”
“It’s not really a secret. There’s some stuff I need to tackle on my own before I share it with everyone else.”
“Will you be at Brandon’s funeral?”
“Of course I will.”
“I’m so glad to hear that. I couldn’t imagine the ABC Kids without their Dee. I still can’t believe we lost Brandon. All that effort he put into staying fit and exercising, running every day, and he dies because some dirt bag put a knife in his back while he was running. I hope they find that bastard and put him under the fucking prison!”
“They will,” said Damita.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Carmella, karma is real. The person who hurt Brandon will get what they deserve, one way or another.”
“You really believe that, huh?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”
“Damita, would you please do me a favor?”
“What is it?”
“You know your mother is like a mother to me as well and I can’t stand to see her worry so much. When you hang up with me, please promise you’ll call her.”
“I will, Carmella. She must be going crazy. Before I got married, my mother and I barely went a day without talking to one another.”
“Are you ever going to tell us what’s going on?”
“Of course I will.”
After ending the phone call with Carmella, Damita did exactly as she had promised.
“Hello, Mom.”
“Damita, what’s going on? Carmella and I have been calling you ever since Brandon was killed. I even came by the apartment. No one answered the door and when I came back with my keys, none of them worked. I was thinking about calling the police.”
“Mom, Neal and I are working through some stuff. It’s best if we deal with it alone. Okay?”
“I can understand that, but why cut everyone off? We love you and we were so worried. I didn’t know what to think.”
“Mom, it’s complicated. But, I promise you I’ll explain everything as soon as I work through all of this.”
“I knew marrying that man was a mistake. If things have gone sour already, maybe you should cut your losses and come home. Your room is still here waiting for you.”
Damita laughed.
“Well, I’m glad to hear you still have a sense of humor.”
“It’s funny to me that, after all these years, I’m still your baby girl. After college, a career as an investment banker and now a husband, you still have my pink and white room waiting for me to move back in.”
“I told you when you were a little girl, you’re my baby and you will always be my baby. You’ll see when you have your own kids.”
“That’s if I have my own kids.”
“You will. You’ve got a lot of love in your heart, baby girl. You’ve been like that since you were small. A woman like you has to share that love.”
“Are you going to Brandon’s funeral tomorrow?”
“Of course I am. That boy was like a son to me. I still remember you, Brandon and Carmella making a mess of my kitchen after you got home from school. I never told you this, but I always thought Brandon would be my son-in-law one day.”
Damita wondered what her mother would think if she told her what her suspicions were. She had enough difficulty wrapping her own head around it. More than anything, she wanted to tell her that she didn’t know what to do. She was afraid to leave and afraid to stay. Throughout her entire life she had always gone to her mother with her problems, but this time she was concerned that if she made the wrong move, her mother could be harmed.
“I’ll see you at the funeral tomorrow, Mom, okay?”
“Okay. Do you want to go together?”
“No. I’ve got some things I need to take care of, so I’ll meet you there.”
“Are you coming alone?”
Damita laughed again. “That’s real subtle, Mom. Is that your diplomatic way of asking if Neal is coming? To answer your question, no he is not.”
As Damita hung up the phone, her nurse entered the room.
“Mrs. Westman, I don’t know if your doctor mentioned this, but if you cough or take deep breaths at least every hour, it will help keep you from getting pneumonia. Pneumonia is a big threat with broken ribs. I have some ice here to reduce the swelling and some aspirin for the pain.”
“Thank you. Oh, by the way, Florence, please call me Damita.”
“Okay, Damita. Also, it may sound odd, but when you go to sleep tonight it will probably be best if you sleep on the injured side. It will allow you to take deeper breaths.”
“Florence, I wonder if you could help me with something else.”
“Sure, what is it?”
“I have a funeral to go to tomorrow and I don’t want everyone focusing on me and my injuries. Can you help me to look as close to normal as possible?”
“I can fix it so no one will even know you were in a car accident.”
Every time she heard the lie out loud, a car accident, she was reminded of what her life had become in such a short period of time.
“I would so appreciate that.”
The next morning Florence made good on her promise and with the help of makeup, a funeral-appropriate hat, a pair of gloves and pain-killers, Damita was able to pull it off. It would be difficult for most people to tell that she had been beaten and kicked and had her ribs and fingers broken a few days earlier. Damita’s mother and her best friend were not most people.
“Thanks, Florence, you did a great job,” Damita said.
“No problem.
“Florence, there’s one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I expect to be a little worn out after the funeral today. You don’t need to come in tomorrow, since I’ll probably sleep well into the afternoon.”
“Are you sure? Mr. Westman was adamant that I not leave your side.”
“My husband doesn’t know what a quick healer I am. So, please, don’t bother coming in. It wouldn’t make sense.”
“Okay.”
• • •
Karen and Carmella were sitting together when Damita arrived at the funeral. They had saved her a seat. It was packed. Damita looked around the room and was reminded of what a great guy Brandon was. One look at the number of people who had shown up to say goodbye was a clear indication of how loved he really was.
In the middle of the services, Karen suddenly turned to her and caressed her face. She whispered in Damita’s ear. “Leave him, baby. I’m not prepared to say goodbye to you, too.”
Damita looked directly at her mother. As she cried, she hoped her makeup job wouldn’t be ruined, and the full extent of her injuries revealed. “I will, Mom. I will. I simply need some time to figure some things out.”
“Don’t take too long.”