Lainey
Hiding behind the smoked tint on the windows of the black limousine seemed to shelter me from the world as we pulled into driveway of our Alpharetta traditional home. Mother released my hand, which she’d held all the way from our little Baptist church to the cemetery in Forest Park, where Don had been laid to rest, and then all the way home. My fragile state had them so worried that she and Daddy had canceled their travel plans back to Phoenix.
“We’ll stay for as long as you need us, baby,” Mother said as she gave my hand a strong squeeze before letting go.
Relieved, I forced a smile. Grateful for the support.
“Thank you,” I said softly. “I don’t really want to be alone right now.”
Daddy opened the door, stepped out of the limo that belonged to the funeral home, and helped Mother out. As she headed toward the house, dressed in a dark gray suit, Glenda swung my front door open. She waved as Daddy reached for me. Barely able to stand on my own, he steadied me. I waved at my dear friend, who’d spent most of the day cooking and preparing the house for guests who had gathered after Don’s funeral.
“You got a houseful,” she whispered once Daddy and I reached the porch. “Are you up for that?”
“I guess I don’t have a choice,” I whispered back as Don’s two little nieces rushed past me, dressed in ruffled dresses and patent-leather shoes, ribbons in their hair.
“Hi, Auntie Lainey,” they both sang.
“Hello, girls,” I said. “Stop running before you fall and hurt yourselves.”
“They’re so full of energy.” Brenda, Don’s younger sister laughed, her belly swollen from her fourth pregnancy. She planted a kiss on my cheek. “How you holding up, Lainey?”
“Fine.”
“We ran out of salad dressing, so I’m gonna run to Publix and grab a couple of bottles.” Keys to her husband’s Expedition in hand, she asked, “You need anything else?”
“Some herbal tea would be nice,” I said, and stepped into the house.
People were gathered in my living room, some of them engaged in conversations about how nice the ceremony was. Others just sat, plates filled with Glenda’s fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, and salad. I gave everyone smiles, hugged people I hadn’t seen in years. Indulged in casual conversations with a couple of the ladies from our church. Listened to Don’s colleagues ramble on about how great a lawyer he was and how much he’d be missed at the firm.
I was exhausted from the emotional day and wanted nothing more than to retreat to my bedroom, bury myself beneath the covers and sleep my troubles away. But I knew that wasn’t an option. As I made my way toward the kitchen, Alvin Taylor, Don’s colleague and friend, stood with his back against the wall, his tie loosened around his neck.
“Hey, Lainey,” he said. “Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?”
“You’re leaving so soon?”
“Got some things I need to finish up at the office.”
“You sure you’re not running away because your ex-wife is here?”
“Who, Glenda?” He chuckled and straightened his tie. “Nah, we’ve been cordial today. She seems happy with what’s-his-name in her life, and I’m happy for her.”
Glenda’s eyes roamed our way, with a look on her face that asked if we were talking about her.
“Yes, she is happy, Alvin.” I smiled at her and then looked at him. “And you could be happy, too, if you’d stop running around here trying to romance every woman in metro Atlanta. You need to settle down, Al. Find a nice young lady and settle down.”
“Yeah, you’re right, Lainey.” He laughed sarcastically, then kissed my cheek. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good,” I said. “Thanks for coming.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Lainey. You and Don are like family to me. I had to be there today,” he said. “To pay my respects.”
“You were one of his best friends.”
“And he mine.” He rubbed his clean-shaven face, shook his head. “I’m gonna miss him.”
“I know you will, Alvin.” I tried comforting him as tears threatened to fill his hazel eyes. He forced them back.
“If there’s anything at all that you need, Lainey, you just let me know.”
“I will.”
“Promise you will.” He pressed; his eyes serious and staring into mine.
“I promise.”
“And when you’re feeling better, I’ll help you gather his things at the office,” he offered. “But only when you’re feeling better, okay?”
“I appreciate that,” I said, and stroked the sleeve of his crisp white shirt. “I’ll let you know when I’m up to it.”
“Good.” He pulled me into an embrace. “I’m gonna get out of here. I’ll come by next week to see how you’re doing.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He let go, planted a kiss on my forehead, then strolled out the front door.
I pulled the aluminum foil from the kitchen cabinet and started covering dishes of fried chicken and macaroni and cheese. I placed the two-liter bottles of soda into the refrigerator. Brushed crumbs from the kitchen counter with a dishcloth, and dumped them into the trash can. I grabbed the broom from its place in the closet.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Glenda stood in the doorway of the kitchen, placed her hands on her hips and looked at me sideways.
“Just straightening up in here a little.”
“If you don’t get out of this kitchen and get somewhere and rest your bones…” she said, taking the broom from my hand. “I got this.”
“I’m not totally helpless, you know,” I told her.
“I know that, but while I’m here, you need to use me as much as possible.” She smiled. “I’ll be gone in a few days.”
“Where you off to next?” I asked.
Glenda’s book, Empowering the Woman Within, had taken up residence on the New York Times’ Best Sellers List for the past ten weeks. From the moment it hit the shelves in bookstores across the country, she’d been traveling from city to city promoting it and doing empowerment seminars for women everywhere.
“Philly’s next.” She said, “Women are hungry for this stuff, Lainey.”
“I thought ‘Oprah’ might be next.” I smiled.
“Don’t rule it out, girlfriend. Don’t rule it out.” She placed the aluminum foil back on the shelf, picked up the broom and started sweeping. “Don’t be surprised if I wind up being interviewed by that talk show diva herself.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I said. “I look at your life and how you’ve grown since…”
“Since divorcing Alvin?” She stole the words from me.
“I look at you, and I’m empowered.” I smiled at her. “And when I read your book…”
“Lainey, you should’ve left Don years ago.” She interrupted, shifting the conversation to a subject that we’d both avoided for years. “I watched him steal your youth and suck the life from you for years. Now don’t get me wrong, I loved Don like a brother, but I hated what he’d become. An alcoholic. Hated to see you so unhappy.”
Glenda was never one to hold her tongue; always told it like it was, no matter how painful it was to the person receiving it. Particularly if she thought she was making you a better person by saying her piece. Her bold, no-nonsense approach to life was making her a wealthy woman as she coached women across the country and taught them how to empower themselves. But for years, this had been a conversation we’d avoided.
“Did I really seem that unhappy?”
She looked at me sideways again, a crooked smile on her face. “Did you even read my book? Other than just the part where I gave you a shout out?” She laughed.
“Of course I read your book.”
“Well, if you did, you would know that I was talking to you, and women just like you,” Glenda said.
“I loved Don.” It was the truth.
“I loved Alvin, too.” She mused, “Didn’t mean I had to put up with all the crap he was dishing out in our marriage.”
I silently took a seat at my kitchen table.
“I’m not gonna preach today. I’m sure Pastor Phillips did enough of that this afternoon at the ceremony,” she said, and commenced to pulling my shoes from my sore feet. She rubbed the soreness away. “But you know I have to tell it like it is, right?”
“You always do.” I smiled.
“What’s the plan now?” she asked. Her question was one that I hadn’t pondered.
“I don’t know, Glenda. I wasn’t prepared for this.”
“Well whatever you decide, I’m here for you. Okay?”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. I was grateful for Glenda’s friendship.
After ushering everyone out of the house, Glenda and Mother cleaned the kitchen and put food away. Daddy caught the end of a football game until sleep found him in Don’s recliner in the family room. I lay curled in a fetal position in the center of my king-size bed, staring at the television set. The Channel Two news reporter stood shivering in some Atlanta community, her blond hair blowing in the wind as she pulled her winter coat tighter and stared into the camera. I couldn’t hear what she was saying because I’d muted the volume on the television, but evidently several Atlanta residents were still without electricity because of the recent ice storm.
My eyes wandered over to Don’s closet, where his Italian suits hung, never to be worn by him again. He’d never again slide his feet into the Stacy Adams’s shoes that rested on the closet floor, and he’d never loosen one of those silk ties around his neck again. He’d never crawl into bed beside me, his warmth making me feel safe. He’d never come home, ever again.
I shut my eyes until sleep finally captured me and held me until daylight crept across my face the next morning.