Chapter 18
That Sunday Basra was exhausted, for the night before she didn’t sleep but for one hour. Her night was spent worrying about her pending lunch and how she could possibly get out of it. Grayson left home early to get a start on his work, and Basra wasn’t far behind. She was hoping to catch Hollis at home. She called while en route.
She left a message. “Hollis, this is Basra. I need your help. I’m coming to see you.”
Hollis returned her call as she was pulling up to Riverside Drive. “I’m home but I only have about thirty minutes,” she said. “I’m sure it will take you that long to get here, so we should reschedule—”
“I’m downstairs,” interrupted Basra.
Hollis buzzed her in and Basra wasted no time spilling the beans.
Hollis sat behind her desk and listened intently. “This is exactly why I discourage relationships in this business.”
“I understand, but that doesn’t help me at all. Can he blackmail me?”
“First of all, you shouldn’t have let yourself get taped.”
“How was I supposed to know?”
Hollis pulled up her computer and typed a few keys. “Adam Feinburg. He’s originally from Indiana, but has offices in San Francisco, Canada, and New York. His net worth is fifteen million.” Hollis looked at Basra and commented. “At least he’s not that rich.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“The richer they are, the more connected they are. Take someone like Lawson, who is worth 3.5 billion. He has enough power and connections to bring this whole thing to a halt. Adam is just a regular businessman. I’m sure I know enough people to buy his silence. He won’t be any trouble.”
“But what if he tells my in-laws?”
“Oh, yeah, I can’t do a thing about that. I’m thinking about Choice.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“I suggest you tell your husband the truth. You say you’re quitting anyway, so what’s the harm?”
“The harm is he’ll know what I’ve been doing for a living. He won’t want to stay with me after that.”
“That’s the risk you have to take. Love is a strange thing, you never know. I have to get ready to go.”
“Fine,” Basra said, dejected. She rose and walked out. She couldn’t shake the dismal expression from her face. No matter how she tried to spin it, she knew Grayson wouldn’t look at her the same way if she said the truth.
“Maybe I could reason with Adam,” she whispered. “I don’t have a choice.”
As she pulled out her phone to call, she visualized her last visit with him and it nearly made her sick. She quickly changed her mind and tossed the phone back in her purse. However, as soon as she took two steps, the phone rang.
“Hi, babe,” Grayson said.
“Hi,” Basra answered.
“So, my dad said that he could meet you around two P.M. in the city. He said to call him and let him know where. I’ll text you his number.”
“He still didn’t say what he wanted?” asked Basra.
“No, and it’s strange. But he insisted it was important.”
“So, are you talking now?”
“He called to ask for your number and he asked me about our relationship. He did apologize for missing the art show.”
“He’s got to be proud just a little bit.”
“Where was he before? I’m sure he still sees me as a bum, just a bum who got lucky,” said Grayson. “Make sure you call him. I have to go back to work.”
Basra hung up and seconds later the text with Ray’s number came up. She looked at the number for close to three minutes before deciding to dial. Even then she didn’t dial, but opted to text him instead: “I have a busy day, maybe we can have a phone conversation.” She hit send. A minute later, her phone rang. It was him.
“Hello, Mr. Charles. How are you?” she answered.
“I won’t take up much of your time, I just need to speak with you for a moment. Where are you now?”
“Leaving an appointment on Riverside.”
“I just got to the city. We can go ahead and meet now if you’re available.”
Basra tried to detect his demeanor by his voice tone, but she couldn’t.
“I can meet you at Pier i Café right there on Riverside and Seventieth. Stay put, I’ll be there shortly.”
Basra released a groan. There was no way out of this lunch and so she walked toward Seventieth Street in hopes that he wanted to discuss reconciliation with his son. Basra prayed that Adam hadn’t said anything to him.
Basra walked in and waited for Ray in the front area. He came along shortly, wearing a sweat suit and baseball cap. He greeted Basra with a warm hug. This is a good sign, she thought. They sat and immediately Ray started.
“I know you’ve got a busy day, so I’m going to cut to the chase. You know I have a huge architectural firm. We’ve done commercial properties all over the country. I need to expand overseas.”
“You’re here to talk about business?” Basra said, somewhat shocked.
“Yes.”
“I thought you wanted to talk about Grayson.”
“Why would I talk to you about my son?”
“Well, I know you two haven’t had the best relationship, so I was thinking you wanted to improve it and you were seeking my advice.”
Ray let out a hearty laugh. “I can speak to my son directly. I don’t agree with his career choices. Though he is talented, he should have followed me into this business. African Americans have a hard enough time in this country building the multi-million dollar business that I’ve managed to do. When I die, I have no one to pass this on to. Therefore, our family’s generational wealth is passed on to my successor. Other cultures don’t do that. He could have learned this business and painted on the side.”
“But he didn’t want to be an architect.”
“Sometimes it’s not about what we want to do, but what we should do to better our situation. And that’s not always pretty.”
Basra understood exactly what he was saying but she didn’t comment.
“Young Americans don’t like to sacrifice. But I believe sacrifice is the main ingredient of success.”
“He has sacrificed, he’s struggled.”
“That was his choice. I laid the foundation so that he didn’t have to and so that his son wouldn’t have to.”
“But if you had invested in his passion he could have gotten there a lot more swiftly, and it still could have created generational wealth. Why does it matter how the money is reinvested as long as it increases? And why did it take stranger to believe in your son before you would?” sincerely asked Basra.
“You wouldn’t understand,” said Ray.
“I understand that where I come from we don’t have much but each other, and knowing that someone you love supports you fuels your success.”
Ray had nothing more to say about Grayson, so he quickly changed the subject. “I have a proposal for Arthur Cossington. How can I get it to him?”
“You have to go through Grayson.”
“What? I thought he was your connection.”
“I met him through my friend, but he contacts Grayson directly. If you want to do business with him, that’s your best bet.”
Ray leaned back in his seat and gave a sly smile. “You’re a slick one,” he said.
“I promise I’m not trying to be slick. Grayson has better relationship. In fact, he has relationships with a lot of people you’d probably like to do business with.”
“Is that so?”
“Indeed it is.” Basra looked at the menu and gave small smirk. After a few seconds, she looked up at Ray. “Now, whether he gives you any of those connections, that’s another story.” The server approached. “I’ll have the Caesar salad with grilled chicken.”
“And for you, sir?” she asked Ray.
“The blackened salmon.”
Ray turned to Basra and smiled. “When I first saw you, I thought you might be one of these foreign gold-diggers who marry for citizenship and money. But Kaamil tells me that you make good money as a model.”
“I do okay. I definitely make more money than Gray. So that should be the least of your worries.”
“So why did you want to marry my son?”
“He’s a wonderful man and when we are together I feel so safe. He comforts me. His spirit is so gentle, and he makes me laugh. He’s hilarious!”
“I was shocked when he announced that you two had gotten married but he followed in my footsteps. I didn’t tell my parents about Hansa until after we were married. I went to Columbia University and my parents, who worked very hard to send me there, insisted that I come back home and marry my high-school sweetheart, who went to Howard. My mother flipped out when I told her I was dating a woman from India. But I was hell-bent on making my own path.
“So you and Gray are a lot alike.”
“I guess,” Ray said.
As Basra smiled, seeing that she was getting through to Ray, Adam walked over to the table, completely upsetting the moment. Her smile dropped off her face and was replaced with a scowl.
“Oh, Adam, I’m glad you could make it,” said Ray. “You remember Basra, right?”
“I never forget a lovely face,” he said.
“So we were just talking about Arthur Cossington and his hotels. But she thinks Grayson might be the best approach. So our business with Mrs. Charles ...” He paused and smiled. “Our business might be cut short.”
“I hate that,” Adam said, scooting his chair up to the table. “So tell me, can my company help you with any financial services? I work with companies large and small.”
“His company is doing some work over in Africa. Tell her about it. Excuse me.”
Ray left the table, giving Adam the perfect opportunity to harass Basra.
“Don’t you say anything to me,” she said, hoping to cut his actions before they started.
“You changed your number.”
“I’m done with you, Adam. I mean it.”
“Fine, you settled your own fate. I will let Ray know that you are whore. I will tell him that one of my associates saw us here together and informed me of your true identity and then I will make sure Grayson gets the video footage. And I’ll make sure it’s one of your best performances.”
“Do whatever you like. I’m leaving.”
“Leaving where?”
“I’m going back home. I’ve made enough money to start over. The dollar stretches much more there. So do whatever you must do, but I’m not ever sleeping with you again. You’re a freak and I hope you catch a horrible disease and it makes your testicles slowly rot, and fall off one after the other.” Basra’s glare disappeared. She put on a big smile and greeted Ray as he came back to the table.
“Ray, I hate to rush but I do have another appointment.” Basra rose from the table. “Adam, it was a pleasure.”
Basra strutted from the restaurant with her head held high. Inside she still felt bad, but she was slowly making strides in the right direction and for that she was grateful.
But Basra’s heart was breaking. She knew that she would indeed have to tell Grayson the truth or truly leave the country and go back home. The longer she contemplated it, the second option seemed like the best one. By that evening, Basra had decided she was going back home. She couldn’t face the shame of Grayson knowing who she was and although it made more sense for Adam to keep quiet about his own perversions, she just wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t expose her. In truth, she had made enough money to start over, and she needed to leave before they signed the paperwork on the new place.
That week, Grayson had to go out west for two days for a few meetings she’d set up, and Basra’s plan was to book her flight to Somalia and leave before he returned. It was definitely the most cowardly act to date, but shame and money equaled in power. Her family would never accept her marriage anyway and, eventually, the pain would heal and this would be a small blurb in both of their lives. Basra went downtown, entered the courthouse, and left carrying annulment papers. She went by the bank and took out $3,000 from her savings, which was steadily increasing due to the investments Lawson had suggested. She placed it in an envelope and took the train over to the Upper East Side. She found the mom-and-pop jewelry store, walked in and was greeted by the same little man.
“I remember you,” he said with a smile.
“Yes, is your wife here?”
“One minute.” He rushed upstairs and returned with her following close behind.
“You are smiling now,” said his wife.
“Yes, and I want to say thank you for everything that day. I wanted to repay you.”
“You owe us nothing. You remind me of our daughter,” said his wife before mumbling to her husband in Somali.
“Well, I have something for you. Please take it as a token of my appreciation.” She handed the man the envelope with money. “Go on a vacation with your lovely wife,” she said and quickly left before he tried to return the money. Basra didn’t look back. That money was no comparison to what she’d been given that day, but she hoped it would bring them a little joy. She went into a coffee shop and opened her iPad to send e-mails. She was only in school part-time but she wanted to continue her education, and so she e-mailed her professors to see what could be done about transferring her credits. She e-mailed her sister and her best friend back home. She also called Lucia.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
“You know me,” she answered. After a short pause, Lucia exhaled and commented, “I’m tired, Basra.” She sighed.
“You’ve been going nonstop for a while. Take a break. You have enough money.”
“There’s no such thing as enough money,” she commented.
“But you can’t party day in and day out for a year and not feel it. Are you taking care of yourself? Eating better, taking your vitamins?”
“Yeah, my body is just tired. Come see me,” asked Lucia.
“I’m going back home to Somalia. I just wanted to let you know.”
“When? Why?”
“It’s time. I miss my family.”
“So you’re just leaving the business all together?”
“Yes, I told you that.”
“But what about your man?”
“It’s not going to work out.”
“I bet. Well, I don’t have family to go back home to. This is my life.”
“That’s your choice. You need to take a break from it all.”
“Oh, Basra, so naïve. You don’t get it.”
“Maybe not, but I’m not going to be miserable if I have other options.”
“Just make you sure you keep in touch. E-mail me from time to time.”
“I will. You take care of yourself.”
“I will. Bye.”
They hung up. Basra could never put her finger on it, but she felt that Lucia was always jealous. Although they weren’t that different, Lucia was just as beautiful and had more money, but Basra held a freedom of the mind that Lucia didn’t have. Lucia had become a slave to the industry, and it was slowly taking her under. Basra knew she had gotten out just in time.
Basra mailed off her last two months of rent, and finally gathered her composure to write a letter to Grayson. She typed and erased, typed more and then deleted more. Lastly, she closed up and walked down two stores to Duane Reade and purchased some stationary. Writing a Dear John letter was bad enough; at least she could make it as personal as possible.
It took Basra four hours to compose this good-bye note. She wanted to tell him the truth but it wasn’t a reality that she could face. Instead, she simply wrote that as much as she loved him, she just wasn’t ready for the commitment.
Grayson, even as I write this, I know it’s wrong. I wanted to say something to you in person, but I knew you’d convince me to stay. You are a dream, and I have been blessed to meet you, but I’m not ready to be your wife. You are too good for me, and I have so many years to grow. America has swallowed me, chewed me up, and spit me out. I am mush and no good to anyone. I know this all sounds puzzling, but trust me when I say that you will be better off without me. I think some things are meant for a reason, and I have to look at our relationship that way. Maybe God brought me in to restore your faith in your talent and your relationship with your dad. I am going back to Somalia. Please understand that I love you but love doesn’t mean that people are meant for one another. Find someone who can truly love you without inhibitions. You deserve that. You are a blessing from heaven and I will never forget you.
Always, Basra