More to Life Read online

  “Let loose, girl,” Nichelle exclaimed. “We’re here to have fun. It’s all about you.”

  And then, when Nichelle forced another shot into my hand, I laughed out loud, then downed the tequila. I decided that my friends were right—I’d lost my shot to do me with the conference. I needed to try to just let everything go and have a good time—at least for tonight.

  Chapter 3

  “Rise and shine. The early bird catches the worm.” The sound of Simone’s singsong voice interrupted my drunken dreams.

  I groaned as Simone bounced from room to room, banging on the doors to wake everyone up. Without opening my eyes, I grabbed another pillow and pulled it over my head.

  “Aja,” Simone sang my name as she busted into my bedroom, “we did not come to the Dominican Republic for you to sleep the days away. Get up, sunshine.” And then she did something that she hadn’t done since we were at Texas Southern: She snatched the covers off me.

  I wanted to scream. Tell her to go away. Let me have just a few more minutes. But she wouldn’t have heard—or should I say she wouldn’t have paid attention to—anything I said because Simone was one of those birds who were always early and looking for other soul-mate birds to hang with in the morning. When she couldn’t find anyone else, she made all of us get up with her. We paid the price for the fact that she liked to rise with the sun.

  “Come on, Aja,” she said before she assaulted me with her next weapon—she drew the drapes, bringing the sun in as her partner. Even with the pillow over me, the sun won. I pushed the pillow to the side and I blinked until my eyes were all the way open. Thankfully, I’d taken a BC Powder last night before we began our shot spree, so I didn’t have a pounding headache, but I did have a “need more sleep” ache, and Simone was messing all of that up.

  It took a moment for me to focus on Simone, standing over me with her arms folded. “The tour guide leaves in an hour,” she announced. “We need to get up and get moving. I’ve already cooked breakfast . . .”

  I may have still been half asleep, but I was awake enough to know that was a lie.

  “Or shall I say Miguel cooked breakfast,” she added with a cheesy grin.

  With a lot of effort, I pushed myself up and rubbed my eyes, just as Nichelle staggered through my bedroom door. But even though she had done the most drinking, she looked hella better than me. I mean, at least she was standing on two legs. I could hardly feel my own legs.

  “I still cannot believe you hired a chef for us,” Nichelle said, yawning as she stretched.

  “And I told you before, I didn’t hire a chef.” Simone pointed at me. “Her man did all this.” She faced me. “And speaking of your man . . .” She darted through the door, and the way she’d just said that, I wondered if somehow Charles had made his way down here. But before Nichelle had a chance to stretch again, Simone was back. “These just came for you,” she sang, sounding like she was about to break out into a love song as she handed me the giant bouquet of white roses.

  “Wow,” Roxie said, strolling into my bedroom through the adjoining bathroom.

  I was mesmerized by the flowers. White roses were my favorite, but they weren’t in season. “Where did these come from?”

  “Where else?” Simone said, setting the bouquet on the nightstand. “Your boo thang.”

  “Charles sent those?” I leaned over and sniffed.

  “How many boo thangs do you have?” She laughed. “Of course he did, along with this.” Simone held up her wrist.

  This time when I squinted, it wasn’t because I was still feeling last night’s shots. I was trying to figure out what was sparkling from her wrist. “What is that?”

  She exhaled a long sigh. “Only the most gorgeous diamond tennis bracelet I’ve ever seen.” She modeled the jewelry like she was on The Price Is Right.

  My legs suddenly worked; I jumped out of the bed. “And you have on my gorgeous bracelet?”

  “You were asleep.”

  “And so that means wear my gift?” I said, trying to grab her wrist and my bracelet. “And I wasn’t asleep because you woke me up.”

  She hid her arm behind her back. “Well, you were still in the bed with your eyes still kinda closed when I first peeked in here. So . . .”

  “If the box had my name on it, why did you even open it?” I held my hand out for her to return the bracelet.

  Simone shrugged as she released the clasp and took the bracelet off. “Because I wanted to see what it was.” She dropped the string of diamonds into my hand.

  “Awwww,” Nichelle said, bouncing onto my bed. “When I grow up, I want a man who showers me with gifts the way Charles does you.”

  I hooked on the bracelet, then held it up in the light of the sun. Every shade of the rainbow bounced off the bracelet’s multicolored diamonds.

  “Twenty years and y’all are still going strong,” Roxie said.

  “Yeah, talk about being lucky,” Nichelle said. “My man just got a raise at UPS, so we might be able to go to Galveston for the weekend.”

  “Don’t front. You got a good man and you know it.” I laughed.

  Nichelle sat up and grinned. “I do, don’t I?”

  “Well, I’m glad y’all got good men ’cause Lord knows Ben is enough of a dog for us all.”

  All of our eyes turned to Simone, who was in the middle of a divorce that was so bad, she and her ex had taken restraining orders out on each other. I felt horrible about all she’d been going through and was glad that even though we called this my birthday trip, it was an important getaway for her, too.

  “Wait.” Simone clapped her hands. “We did not come all the way down here to talk about this. You have forty-five minutes and counting,” she said, sounding like some kind of teacher trying to corral her class. “Let’s get up and get going.”

  Roxie and Nichelle dragged themselves out of my bedroom behind her and I stretched before I took a quick sniff of my roses once again.

  Lowering myself to the edge of the bed, I grabbed my cell phone, hit the FaceTime icon, and pressed my husband’s photo.

  It took a moment for the video call to connect, but then there was Charles’s glowing face. The face of a popular sports anchor that had filled TV screens in Houston for two and a half decades. Everyone swooned over Charles Clayton—and I’d snagged him.

  “Hello, my love,” he said with his smile taking up more than half the whole screen.

  “Thank you for the flowers and the bracelet,” I said with my own smile.

  “Just a little something to continue celebrating the blessing of your birthday.”

  “It’s beautiful, babe, and I’ve really enjoyed everything that you’ve given to me, but no more gifts, okay? You’ve passed the forty-five mark already.”

  “So? Why can’t I buy you as many gifts as I want? We work hard, we have the money, so what’s our money for if not to enjoy it?” He chuckled. “And how many parents with two children in college can say that? Thank God for the academic brilliance that blessed our children through your DNA.”

  While he laughed, I sighed. He was right; we had more money than most since Eric’s college was covered by his athletic prowess and Anika had received a full academic scholarship. But that wasn’t what I was talking about. Charles loved to give me gifts, and that was wonderful—except that wasn’t my love language. I wasn’t into material things. I mean, yeah, who wouldn’t love white roses that accompanied a tennis bracelet? It was just that the gifts didn’t touch my soul. They never had.

  I’d even bought that book The 5 Love Languages and given it to Charles, but he’d never read it and he’d never asked me why I’d bought it for him. It wasn’t all on Charles, though. I’d never told him either. I just never wanted to seem ungrateful.

  “Really, Charles, no more gifts, okay?”

  “Please, who doesn’t love gifts?” He didn’t give me a chance to answer that question before he asked another. “So, are enjoying yourself?”

  I fought back a groan. Charles al
ways did this—talked over my concerns or tossed them aside completely. I was sure that he no longer even heard me.

  “Aja?”

  Now there was concern in his voice because if he wasn’t buying me something, he was worried about me. I said, “It’s nice. We’re about to go out sightseeing now.”

  “Great. That’s what I want to hear. Well, enjoy yourself. But hey, real quick. What’s the Wi-Fi code?”

  I sighed. “Honey, I told you before, it’s on the side of the router.”

  “I know, but uh . . . I kinda forgot . . . Where’s the router?”

  I bit my lip. Charles had a master’s from Notre Dame, yet he acted like a helpless child sometimes. No, I take that back—most of the time. At least when he was home. I knew so much of his behavior could be traced right back to me. From the beginning of our marriage, I’d taken over all thinking for him, as if he were my child. There were times when I felt more like his mother than his wife.

  I said, “It’s in the dining room over the fireplace,” without adding that I’d told him this before. “Turn it to the side,” I droned on, “and the Wi-Fi password will be right there. The last line.” I figured I’d give him very specific instructions so he didn’t call all the way back to the Dominican Republic to ask which line was the code.

  “So, I gotta go all the way down there?”

  I frowned. What was he talking about? All the way down where? From the video call, I could see that he was in our bedroom. All he had to do was go downstairs, take less than one hundred steps from where he was to the dining room.

  He continued, “You don’t know the password off hand?”

  Because heaven forbid you should have to do some actual work. “No, sweetheart, I don’t know. Just go look, okay?” My tone didn’t sound that much different from when I talked to Eric or Anika—when they were ten years old!

  “Fine,” he said. “Enjoy yourself. I love you.” He ended the call before I could tell him that I loved him back. It was obvious words weren’t his love language. I guess he didn’t need to hear what he already knew.

  Tossing my phone onto the bed, I sighed, feeling a bit down. It was hard to be mad at Charles, though. He spent most of his life doing two things: loving me and loving our children. It was just that I was tired of his CEO position. Especially since he was more than capable of doing anything. It was just easier to tell me to do it. I needed my husband to grow up.

  “But they’re the monsters you created.”

  Roxie’s voice was so loud in my mind that I had to look up to make sure she hadn’t walked into my bedroom. But she hadn’t. Her words were just there because that’s what she always told me whenever I complained about Charles or the kids.

  “You’d tie their shoes if you had enough time. You’re always saving them when they don’t even need to be saved.”

  Those words that Roxie had spoken were true. But I wasn’t going to sit there and beat myself up about what I’d done in the past. I wanted to live for today, in this beautiful paradise. I’d made up my mind that though I didn’t know what was eating at me, I was going to enjoy the rest of the time here.

  And if I didn’t start getting ready now, Simone would be back banging on my door.

  I stood and dragged myself into the bathroom. I just had about fifteen minutes to get myself together.

  “Let’s roll,” Simone said, right as I stepped out of my bedroom.

  “But I’m hungry,” I whined.

  “Me too,” Nichelle and Roxie said in unison.

  “Too bad,” Simone said. Then she grinned and pointed to a platter on the dining room table. “Just kidding. I have bagels since you all are too late for breakfast.”

  We grabbed the bagels and headed out to the SUV where the driver that Charles had hired to drive us around during our stay waited.

  “Where to, ladies?” he asked.

  “We’re going to the excursion. The one that’s scheduled for 11:15,” Simone replied.

  “Ah yeah. You’ll enjoy that one,” he said.

  While my girls chatted, my eyes were on the window, taking in the scene of the blue waves crashing against each other. My eyes were on the scenery, but my thoughts were on my conversation with my husband. That five-minute call was the epitome of our marriage. If anyone had listened in, that call would have told them all they needed to know about Charles and me.

  It didn’t even take us ten minutes before we were pulling into a lot that was framed by vendors on the perimeter.

  “We have about an hour before we have to get on the boat/bus, so he said we can stop here and do a little shopping.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Roxie said. “We could’ve spent this time back in the suite enjoying breakfast.”

  “Or sleeping,” Nichelle added with a yawn.

  “I wanted to make sure we were on time,” Simone said. “Remember, I’m the Virgo of this group. The rest of y’all . . . we would have missed this altogether. Plus, who doesn’t want to do a little shopping?”

  When the driver slid open the SUV door for us, the shouts of the men and women selling their wares from the tables greeted us. He helped us all climb down from the back seats and then told us that he’d be just a block away waiting for us.

  “Okay, well, since we’re here, let’s go shopping,” Roxie said.

  “I wonder if any of these folks are selling shots.”

  “Really?” Roxie, Simone, and I said at the same time to Nichelle.

  She shrugged. “It’s happy hour somewhere in the world.” Then she laughed as if she’d been kidding, but I wasn’t so sure that she was.

  I stretched as I took in the scene. A foghorn blared from the ocean as sea hawks clacked along the coast. Boats of all shapes and sizes lined the harbor—from small dinghies to luxury jet boats. There had to be at least forty vendors lined along the street and another twenty on the beach.

  We began to stroll past the vendor tables; I was on the lookout for handmade souvenirs for my family. I didn’t have to look hard or far. At the first table, I found a woven bracelet for Eric and then earrings made from spoons for Anika. The next table, I picked up a couple of bottles of oils that the woman convinced me would get rid of evil spirits. I chuckled as I made that purchase for my mother-in-law.

  As I approached the third booth, a woman smiled before we even stopped. Her hair was braided into two long plaits and she wore a bright yellow skirt and red, white, and blue shirt that looked like the Dominican flag.

  “Greetings. Can I interest you in some energy rocks?”

  “Rocks?” Nichelle said.

  “Talk about a scam.” Simone laughed.

  “Um, yeah. We can pick those up on the beach,” Nichelle added.

  “Stop being rude,” I whispered over my shoulder as I picked up one of the rocks. I set it in my hand and twirled it around in my palm.

  “Wonder powers activate!” Simone said.

  “Ignore my friends,” I told the lady. “Tell me about the rocks.”

  “The one you’re holding emits positive energy. I have some for healing and emotional growth.” The woman beamed as she spoke, sending out her own positive energy, it seemed.

  “Girl, my seven-year-old hit her brother in the head with one just like this,” Nichelle said, picking up a yellow rock.

  I was about to once again chastise my friend’s rudeness when a beautiful painting behind the woman caught my eye. The painting was incomplete, but an assortment of oil paints sat on a table next to the canvas. I smiled as I looked from the painting out onto the harbor.

  “That’s here, huh?”

  The woman beamed at her work. “Yep, painting brings me peace. I love to tell stories on the canvas.”

  “Me too.” I was mesmerized by her attention to detail, down to the seagulls perched on the buoy. “I love the serenity of creating and how—”

  “Come on, Aja,” Nichelle said, cutting me off.

  “You guys go on. I’ll catch up with you.” I waved my friends forward because I
wanted to talk to the woman. While my girls supported everything I did, they, too, gave no regard to my desire to paint. Because it didn’t fit into the “safe” career box, most people didn’t get it.

  “Okay,” Simone and Roxie laughed as they moved on to the next booth. Nichelle followed, though her steps were slower as she was texting.

  When we were alone, I turned back to the lady. “You’ll have to excuse my friends,” I said. “They’re not always so rude.”

  “It’s okay,” she replied. “Not everyone is a believer.” Her smile was still bright.

  “So, there are really rocks that do the things you say?” She nodded as I noticed more paintings on the ground, leaning against her table.

  “Is that some more of your work?” I moved closer, then thought to ask, “Do you mind if I see?” When I noticed her apprehension, I added, “I’m a painter myself.”

  That made her relax. “I just do this for me, really,” she said. She pulled out a painting of a weathered old man with a gap-toothed smile. Every crease in his face was noticeable. His eyes were hollow, like he wanted you to peer into his soul. “This is one of my favorites.” She proceeded to pull out another painting. “This one, too. I call this one Life. It’s a woman who is trying to find her purpose in life.”

  “Wow,” I replied, marveling at the sad woman walking on the beach, staring aimlessly out to sea. “These are amazing. You really should sell these.”

  “I should.” She chuckled. “And for the right price, I might consider it. It’s just that my paintings are so personal.” She looked at the painting that she’d just pulled out, then looked at me before handing it to me. “This one reminds me of you.”

  I didn’t reply as I took the painting and instantly connected with it. I stared at it, mentally processing every detail.

  “Are you okay?” the woman asked.

  I shook myself out of the trance that picture seemed to be luring me into. “Of course. Why would you ask me that?” I replied. Before she could answer, I said, “I just got caught up in your painting. It’s amazing.”

  She studied me, looking at the picture, then back at me, then she added, “The sadness in her eyes matches yours.”