A Love Like This (Book 1) Read online

  A Love like This

  By Kimberly Lane

  Published by Kimberly Lane

  Copyright © 2011 Kimberly Lane

  The right of Kimberly Lane to be identified as author of ‘A Love Like this’ has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

  Find out more about the author and upcoming books by emailing [email protected]

  Chapter 1

  If dreams are a manifestation of some deeper meaning in life then I am truly shallow. In most of my dreams I'm standing in a crowded board room presenting models of innovative new architectural designs. My admiring onlookers are applauding and offering congratulatory handshakes. Naturally at some point during the dream Prince walks in wearing nothing but purple heels and starts singing ‘Adore’. My favorite dream is the one where I’m flying around the Empire State Building wearing vintage couture posing mid flight to be photographed by paparazzi. But this dream is different because I'm not showing off or seeking approval. In this dream I’m sitting in an all white hospital room surrounded by family and friends. I’m holding a chubby brown baby boy and I feel elated about having him in my arms, excited to be a mom---- which is odd because I’ve always thought of kids as a distraction a hiccup in the road to success. Looking down at the tiny brown bundle so warm and soft, I think maybe I was wrong. Maybe being a mom wouldn’t be so bad. I turn to my family expecting to see disapproval but there’s none. However, when I return my gaze to the baby he’s gone and my heart is broken.

  Wake up Leila!” My mother Dana says shaking my bed. I wake up startled and quickly swipe at the tears that roll down my cheeks. “What’s wrong?” I push my thick wiry curls away from my face and look around the room relieved to be home in bed.

  “I had the saddest dream.”

  “Well baby just thank God you were able to wake from it. Now get up, it’s not like you to be late.” She pulls the comforter off my bed and drops it on the floor then walks over to the closet and drags out the two suitcases I packed last night. I watch her buzz around the room moving bags and opening drawers. “Did you remember to pack clean sheets?”

  “Yes Momma,” I say rolling my eyes while her back is turned. “What about sanitary products and hair supplies?”

  “Yes, I’ve packed everything.” I reach down and snatch the comforter off the floor and pull it up to my chin. “My flight doesn’t leave for five hours and everything’s packed.” I say, wiping fresh tears with the back of my hand. “Why are you trying to get rid of me?” I ask in a winey voice reserved only for my mother. Her expression softens.

  “All right tell me about the dream?” She says exhaling and plopping down on a chair near the bed.

  “Thanks for pretending to be interested,” I say letting my head fall onto the pillow.

  She waves her hand as if she’s swatting at a fly, “I’m listening go on.” I tell her everything. She listens intently looking sympathetic then says, “Girl you bet not come back here pregnant.”

  “Honestly Momma, I just poured my heart out to you and all you heard was the word baby. Keisha’s given us enough kids to repopulate Africa. I’m not trying to bring anymore babies to this family. What do you think the dream means?” I ask.

  My mom stands to her feet shaking her head thinking of an answer I won’t reject. I have a way of over rationalizing the smallest things. “You’re probably having crazy dreams because you’re nervous about starting a new school that’s all.” I climb out of bed and step into fluffy white slippers. I smooth the wrinkles from my flowered sheets and matching goose down comforter then arrange twelve white feather pillows largest to smallest on the bed.

  Momma frowns. “Why do you go through the trouble of putting all those pillows on the bed just to take em off every night?”

  “Life can’t always be convenient Momma, sometimes you have to do things just because they’re aesthetically pleasing. Anyway, I don’t think I’m nervous,” I scrunch my nose. “I’m a little anxious maybe but school is a wrap. I’m going to double up on classes so that I can graduate early and start creating gorgeous structures that will grace the covers of architectural magazines,” I say spinning around for a grandiose exit to my bathroom.

  I look at myself in the mirror. The huge mound of hair on my head makes my face look small. I divide it into four equal parts and apply liberal amounts of conditioner. I brush and comb through the thick mane until the curls are soft and manageable then I pull it all into a tight bun at the nape of my neck. My mom watches me from the bathroom doorway. She looks perplexed even though she’s seen me do this a million times before. “Baby that bun makes you look like a librarian. You have such nice hair why don’t you straighten it like Keisha or let it go natural like Nickie.”

  “This hair is just a distraction. I’d rather pull it back and be done with it and I absolutely do not want to look like Keisha or Nickie.”

  “Leila you’re only twenty you have your whole life to make plans and accomplish goals. Try to have a little fun while you’re away.” I’ve been hearing this for as long as I can remember. Leila you’re so young. Why don’t you go hang out with your friends? My family would say. Never mind that three of my five closest friends were pregnant by the time they were in the eleventh grade. I graduated at the top of my class and avoid the fate of my peers because I dressed like a librarian and acted like a prude. Well maybe I wasn’t acting. I’ll admit I am a bit uptight but it’s working for me because I’m on track to graduate early and with honors. “I’m going to be the first in this family to graduate from college Momma. I can have fun after I lead my first building project.”

  My sisters Keisha and Nickie walk in and plop down on the newly made bed. Keisha is wearing tight white jeans, knee high black leather boots with four inch heels and a black tank top with the name of her hair salon ‘Nappies,’ bedazzled across her ample chest. She is at least a hundred eighty pounds and all of it appears to be in her ass. Nickie seems to disappear in her long shapeless tan sun dress. She takes out a book, leans against the headboard and starts reading. Nickie is without question the prettiest of all of us. She took the best features from both our parents but no one ever bothers telling her how beautiful she is. We all just assume she knows.

  Keisha says, “Momma don’t tell that girl to go have fun. She’s going to go buck wild when she gets away from home.” Nickie interrupts, “Did you all just meet Leila for the first time today? She never goes out or does anything but study and work. I’m sure that’s all she’ll be doing at school.”

  “Uh huh, I bet that’s all she’ll be doing,” Keisha says. She crosses her thick thighs and flips her long straightened hair away from her shoulder. Keisha spends more time maintaining her flat ironed hair than Nickie and I combined. She owns a beauty shop but I’ve always wondered how she finds the time to keep her hair so perfect with a full schedule of clients, a husband who spends most of his free time watching sports and five unruly kids. “Leila are you going to move away and become a freak or will you just keep being boring?”

  I peek out the bathroom door, “Shut up Keisha!” I say and throw my brush hitting her right between the eyes. I freeze for a moment terrified. I try to tell her that I didn’t’ mean to hit her but she isn’t trying to hear it. Keisha lunges for me.

  “Keep playin and I’ma fuck y
ou up,” she says. I squeal with laughter and run towards my mom.

  “I didn’t mean to hit you!” I yell. “You better watch your mouth girl,” Dana says to Keisha.

  “Sorry Momma but she started it.”

  Outside our family home Keisha is the most mature reliable woman I’ve ever met. But something happens to her when it’s just the four of us. She becomes a big kid and we end up fighting the way we did when we were little. Nickie looks up from her book. “I can’t believe you two are fighting. Leila’s about to leave for school, what are you twelve?”

  “Oh shut up Nickie,” Keisha says.

  “Rude,” Nickie scoffs and goes back to reading.

  “Ya’ll are working on my nerves. Keisha get on out of here and go see about them kids of yours. “

  “Why I gotta leave?

  “Girl don’t start with me.”

  “Fine, bye heifa go on to that snooty school. You’ll fit in just fine,” She says and pushes my pillows off the bed.

  “Why do you always do things just to annoy me?” I ask, as she picks up one of the pillows from the floor and tosses it at my head. Most of the time I ignore her when she’s being irritating or I teach her kids a bad word to get back at her. I don’t know if it’s the emotion of the day, or the smug look on her face but this time I really want to punch her. My fists are balled at my side ready to strike. I’m pretty sure she’ll beat the shit out of me if I hit her but I’m feeling brave. Mom is somewhere fluttering around doing God knows what so I don’t expect help from her. Nickie stops reading and looks over the top of her book in silence. It’s like watching David and Goliath having a stare down. Keisha and I both have pretty terrible tempers but if there is going to be a scuffle I know Nickie will be the first one to run.

  Keisha smacks her lips and smiles, “Oh you mad? Poor boo boo did big sissy get you all upset? She hugs my neck with one arm rustling my hair with the other.

  “Stop, I can’t breathe don’t mess up my hair,” I protest with my arms flailing. Finally, I give up and hug her back. I’m going to miss my older sisters but of course I’d never say it. Keisha holds me at arm’s length and looks at me for a moment. She smiles but her eyes are sad. She hugs me once more before walking away.

  Next it’s Momma’s turn to say good-bye. The four of us stayed up half the night talking about everything from Keisha’s shot gun wedding to my mother’s dream of becoming an architect when she was younger. My mother hugs me tight. “I’m so proud of you baby,” she whispers in my ear before pulling away. “Your uncle’s waiting to take you to the airport. Daddy’s at work and I can’t go. I got an appointment at the casino. My palm’s been itching all day. You have a safe trip and call me when you get there.” She hugs me again. Remember what I told you baby girl. Don’t take no bullshit from nobody and DON’T come home pregnant.”

  “Just because Keisha decided to have five kids before her twenty-fifth birthday doesn’t mean I’m going to follow suit. I’ve got a plan for my life and being some random boy’s baby mamma is not part of the plan.” I say resolute with my nose scrunched.

  “Yeah child I know.” Dana says before kissing my cheek and walking out of the bedroom.

  Nickie get’s up and helps me rearrange my pillow.

  “You know she’s sad you’re leaving right?”

  “Who Momma?”

  “No Keisha,” Nickie says, “she’s not very good at expressing herself.”

  We look at each other seriously for a few seconds then laugh shaking our heads.

  “Nick you always try to see the best in people. Well some people are just rotten.”

  “Rotten or not she’s your sister. When all else fails we’re all each other has.”

  “You’re so dramatic,” I say rolling my eyes.

  Nickie follows me into the bathroom and climbs up on the counter near the sink. She opens and sniffs bottles of lotions and oils while I undress. I put on a shower cap and turn the water up as hot as I can bear.

  I yell over the roar of the shower. “How are your classes going?”

  They’re ok. I had to drop a course this semester because Damian needed me. You know how he gets when I’m away for too long.”

  “Yeah I know.” I’m happy Nickie can’t see the look of disgust on my face. Damian is rotten. He’s seven years older than Nickie and he controls her every move. She was a year away from completing a bachelor’s degree in women’s literature at Long Beach State but Damian decided that nursing would be a more lucrative career so Nickie dropped out of the literature program and started a nursing program at a community college. Everything she does somehow revolves around Damian. Before they started dating she wore her silky ringlets in a short cropped afro but Damian didn’t think it was feminine enough so Nickie grew it out. He even picks out her shapeless lifeless clothes.

  I step out of the shower and start toweling off. Nickie looks over at me, “When did your boobs get so big?”

  “I got them around puberty you perv, stop looking at me.”

  “Hey, you’re naked, and they’re the biggest thing in the bathroom. What am I suppose to look at?” Besides, no one would ever know you have that body. You should wear more flattering clothes.”

  “I know you’re not talking to me about fashion. You look like a schoolmarm most of the time.”

  “My man is happy with the way I look, ok.”

  “So what you like doesn’t matter?”

  “Whatever please don’t start bashing Damian,” Nickie says waving me away. She puts the lotion down and slides off the bathroom counter. “Aren’t you scared?”

  I think for a moment as I cover my body in a thin coat of Satsuma orange body butter. “Scared of what?” I ask as I ease my dark brown legs into neutral colored stockings.

  “You know, about leaving home. You have to be a little scared about going so far away.”

  “It’s an hour flight from Long Beach to Oakland. I’m not going to the moon. I’m more excited than scared.”

  I slip on a knee length loose fitting dress with an empire waist and a large purple flower painted on the bottom. It’s a pretty dress though a bit modest for a college junior but I know I’ll be taken seriously. I brush my hair back into place where Keisha messed it up then put on purple chunky heels. I dab on mascara and apply shiny lip gloss and a barely noticeable amount of glittery eye shadow to my lids. I pack all of the lotions and toiletries from the counter in a plastic Ziploc bag then place them in my luggage.

  I pick up my purse and drafting supplies then turn to take a look around the room. I worked at a fabric store five days a week after school and nearly every penny I earned went towards decorating my bedroom. It is my private sanctuary. I peeled up the old worn carpet and refinished the hard wood floors. I painted the walls egg shell white with a pink accent wall behind my bed. The whole room looks like a soft cloud with feather pillows, down comforters and fluffy rugs. There’s also a white faux fur throw on an arm chair that I found at the goodwill and reupholstered myself.

  My favorite part of the room is a black and white print of the Stimson House in Los Angeles. It’s a Richardsonian Romanesque style of architecture reminiscent of a medieval castle. The house was built in the 1800 and it reminds me that buildings are one of the few things that have the capacity to last forever. I sigh as I wheel my bags towards the front door with Nickie following closely behind. My dad owns a construction company. He built mom a commercial kitchen so that she could start her own catering business. The house is always full of people, laughter and good food.

  “You’re going to miss this old house,” Nickie says.

  “Yeah,” I say trying not to cry.

  Uncle Pookie is our father’s younger brother. Pookie’s real name is Jermaine Peterson. Everyone in my family has a nickname. Most of the names are simple: Nickie is Nick, Keisha is Key and I’m baby or baby girl because I’m the youn
gest in the family. However, I have no idea where some of the names originated. We have Pookie, Dayday, Koolaid and my favorite Nogood. I’m pretty sure I know where the name Nogood came from. Nogood will steal the shoes right off your feet if you stand still long enough.

  Pookie is over six feet tall, handsome, intelligent and he is my best friend. We can pass for brother and sister. He’s a shade darker than me but we both inherited our Creole ancestors honey colored eyes. I was the first person Pookie told he was gay. When we were younger all of my friends thought they’d be the one to make him straight. They relentlessly came on to him. Wanika a friend of mine from high school went so far as to show up at his house in nothing but a rain coat. Pookie politely told her that he was not interested in her or any other girl. He said, “However, if I was to miraculously become straight I wouldn’t be caught dead with someone who’d wear such an ugly coat.”

  “Look at you baby girl.” He takes my hand and spins me around. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me, who will I shop with? You know I’m coming up as soon as you get settled. I hear Halloween in the Castro District is major.”

  I hug Pookie and kiss him on the cheek then reach for Nickie’s hand and pull her in for a group hug.

  “Oh I forgot something,” Nickie says rushing back inside the house. She comes out a few seconds later and hands me a Papyrus gift bag.

  We all hug again then quickly turn when we hear tires screech to a halt in front of the house. Damian gets out of a silver Mercedes wearing a gray seersucker suit looking like a snake oil salesman. There is something about this man that I have always hated but I can’t put my finger on exactly what it is. I mean other than the fact that he’s an arrogant, demanding asshole. He pounds on the roof of his car. “Nickie!” he yells. She jumps nervously then hurries towards him without a word. “I’ve been calling you all morning. Where have you been?” Nickie stands in front of his car with her head lowered. She’s wringing her hands and kicking at rocks on the side walk. “Get in the car,” He says through clinched teeth.