TAVIAN
07.18.15
“What in God’s green earth have you done, Octavian Brocious West?”
I cringe at her use of my middle name, especially since she just screamed it so loud through the phone that I bet every other person also waiting for a taxi outside Manhattan’s 30th Street train station heard her, too. The name in itself is terrible—a family curse… err, tradition that the mother’s maiden name is used for any and all of her sons’ middle names. But it’s the tone in which she shouted it—one that clearly says she doesn’t give a damn I’m a grown man; she’s about to chew my ass out—that has me furrowing my brow and angrily gritting my molars.
Fucking Annie.
“Well, hello to you, too, Ma. Great to hear from you,” I retort dryly while shuffling forward in the line, my duffel bag thrown over my shoulder.
“Don’t you ‘hello to you, too, Ma’ me, young man,” she scolds. “You know exactly why I’m calling, and I don’t think there’s a damn ‘great’ thing about it.”
I half sigh, half growl, really not wanting to deal with this shit today. But I should’ve known better. I should’ve known Annie would go running to the one person she knows means the most to me and try to get her on her side. Even after the ugly ass shit that spewed from her mouth late last night. Or early this morning. Whatever… I have no sense of time right now. I barely know what day it is. I just need to see Lyra.
“Ma, please—” I begin after a deep breath for patience, but she cuts me off before I can get anymore out.
“No! I will not please either!” she cries out. “Annie just left my house after sitting here for more than an hour, bawling her eyes out, completely devastated over what you’ve done. I-I-I didn’t even know what to say to her. I don’t understand how just a couple weeks ago when you left for your trip, everything was great between you two, and now that you’re back, it’s…”
I tense as I wait for her to finish the sentence, wondering how much Annie disclosed in her visit. If she told her about Lyra, I’m going to strangle her. That is not her fucking business to share.
“…it’s not. How can you just change your mind like that? This is the girl you yourself were ready to propose to not eighteen months ago.”
Exhaling a breath of relief, I stride forward to the yellow cab that’s just pulled up to the curb in front of me. After a cursory glance at the numbers in the driver’s eyes, making sure they don’t match today’s date, I slide into the back and toss my bag on the seat next to me. I quickly mute my phone and give the guy the address then return my attention back to the call.
“I understand you’re upset and confused. I really do. And I know I have a lot to explain, but this is not a conversation I want to have over the phone,” I say calmly, even though my jaw continues to tick with frustration.
She barks out a laugh void of all amusement. “Well, I have no plans now, so I’ll be home all day. Annie and I were supposed to go out and look at wedding venues this afternoon, but I guess those plans have been postponed.”
“Canceled!” I roar more harshly than I intend, so much so the driver snaps his gaze up to the rearview mirror to see if I’m yelling at him. Dropping my voice a few octaves, I hiss, “Those plans have been canceled. The wedding is off. I never should’ve said yes in the first place. I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been put on the spot in front of everyone I know.”
A handful of silent seconds hang heavy on the line between us. I’ve never snapped at my mom like that before, and even though I can’t see the tears welling up in her light blue eyes—eyes the exact shade of mine—I know they’re there. And now I feel shittier than shit. This is exactly what I didn’t want.
The bustling city blurs by out the car window as I struggle to find the right words to say. Everything is happening so fast; my emotions are still raw and unsteady. I’m still unsure of what in the hell I’m doing. I just know it’s the path I’m supposed to be on.
“Ma, I promise I’ll tell you everything. Just please trust me on this,” I plead, hoping she can hear both my apology and resolve. “I can’t come over today, because I’m out of town, but I’ll be back soon. We can talk early next week, maybe Monday night after I get out of class.”
“What do you mean you’re out of town? You just got home last night. Where are you?”
I bite my tongue to not remind her I no longer need her permission to go anywhere or do anything. She’s shocked and shaken up from the news of the breakup, and I’ve already yelled at her once.
Patience and respect, Tavian. She’s still your mother.
“I’m in New York City. I’ve got some business I need to take care of before I go back to work next week,” I answer as vaguely as possible. “It’s part of what I will explain when we sit down to talk.”
“You’re scaring me, Tavian. Are you in danger?” she whispers.
Chuckling softly, I shake my head. I can only imagine the rampant stories running wild in her head with all those thriller novels she reads. “No, Ma, nothing like that. I’m safe and sound, not in trouble with the law or anyone else. I promise it’s gonna be a good thing. Please trust me on this.”
“Okay, I trust you, son.” Her voice is soft, but her tone is certain. Never once have I not had her support when I needed it the most. “Monday night works for me. I’ll make homemade lasagna. Sixish?”
“Yeah, sixish. That sounds good.” With a small smile tugging at my mouth, I relax into the worn and tattered pleather seat and nod. “I love you, Ma.”
“I love you, too, son. I can’t wait to meet her.”
A dial tone hums in my ear before my brain can process the last sentence that came out of her mouth, and I’m left staring at the home screen of my phone with my mouth hanging open. Did Annie tell her about Lyra or not? Why didn’t she mention her earlier in the conversation? And why would she be nervous about me being in New York if she already knew?
All of those questions will have to remain unanswered until Monday night, and at the end of the day, I guess none of it really matters. I decided earlier this morning, sometime in the sleepless hours between Annie storming out of the apartment like a category five hurricane and receiving Lyra’s text message at sunrise, I was going to be honest with my mom about Lyra. She doesn’t want to believe me about the numbers, and honestly, I don’t blame her. The power I have carries a burden so intense and so heavy it’d crush me if I let it. I have to keep living each day, moving forward on my journey, never staying in place or stopping to search for the finish line.
I won’t tell Ma about Lyra’s numbers, and more than likely, after she falls in love with her just like I have, it’ll be me and Ma clinging to each other and somehow holding each other together next April when we’re left with another gaping hole in our lives. And despite the one hundred percent probability I’ll spend the remainder of my life feeling incomplete and being a grouchy asshole, there’s not a chance in hell I won’t take nine months of being whole with my One.
“Here ya go, man. Total is on the screen,” the driver announces as he pulls the car to a halt in front of a rather uninspiring, gray stone building with white trim.
I glance up at the number above the double glass doors then down to the address search results on my phone, confirming they match. Finding Lyra’s address was easier than I expected. How quickly and easily you can get information on the internet these days is both impressive and scary as shit.
After paying the ransom-like fare for the ride, I grab my bag and make a beeline for the building out of the oppressive summer heat. During the two-hour train ride, I worried about how I’d be able to get past her doorman or security system to the elevators, wanting to surprise her with my arrival. But now that I’m here, I realize I don’t have to concern myself with any of those things, because there is no doorman, or security system, or even a damn elevator for that matter. It’s just a hallway with four doorways, two on each side, with a stairwell cut out halfway between them.
Assuming since her apartment is 5B, it’ll be on the same side as 1B, I hoist my duffel up on my shoulder and lumber up the left set of cement steps until I’m at the fifth and top floor. Beads of sweat dot my forehead as the door to her apartment comes into view, but the heat I feel from the lack of air conditioning in the stairwell doesn’t compare to the fire burning inside me to have Lyra in my arms again.
Apart for less than twenty-four hours and I’m already desperate for her. I mean, look at me. I should’ve gone to my office on campus today to get shit ready for the summer mini course I start teaching in less than two days, like I told Lyra I was going to do. But instead, I packed up a couple days’ worth of clothes and all my work, and brought it to do here, just so I could be close to her. Not wanting to waste a single day we’ve got.
Anticipation jets through me, leaving a buzzing sensation from my scalp to my toes, as I lift my fist and pound out a couple steady knocks on the door. Not wanting to frighten her, or for her to ignore me thinking I’m a stranger, I bellow out, “Special delivery for Lyra Jennings from Brooklyn.”