All the Things I Meant to Tell You Page 11

  “You might be right,” Kimberly said to LaShea. “Let me think of a different way to approach this ho.”

  “Maybe don’t think of her as a ho. That feels a little hostile.”

  “It does, doesn’t it. Ugh. Okay. Send her in when she gets here.”

  “You’ll do fine. Just think about Ron and the children when you’re talking to her. You only care about his happiness, not hers. But his kids make him happy, right?”

  “How are you so brilliant about this stuff?”

  “Ummm . . . baby mama drama is my specialty. I believe I have a doctorate in it.”

  Kimberly laughed at LaShea, but the young lady wasn’t exaggerating. The father of her son had three other children, and at least one of those relationships was toxic. One of the girls had come to their previous office cutting up. LaShea held her composure though and called the police. She’d told Kimberly she wasn’t giving up her career over a hood chick who had nothing to lose.

  Kimberly thought about calling Ron for advice, but he was almost no help. The things that he would say to Sabrina would only work for him.

  LaShea sent Kimberly a text that said, Incoming.

  Kimberly took a deep breath and sat up straight again. She ditched the scowl but stopped short of smiling.

  There was a little tap on the door. A timid tap. Good. She needed to humble herself.

  “Come on in.”

  Kimberly didn’t stand to her feet or wave or give any pleasantry. Kimberly let her walk across that office without any encouragement.

  “Hi, Kim. Oh, wait, do you ever go by Kim?”

  “It’s Kimberly.”

  “Sorry, Kimberly. How are you today?”

  Sabrina was out of breath from talking, walking, and perhaps hyperventilating by the time she got to the open seat in front of Kimberly’s desk.

  “I’m doing well today, Sabrina. And you?” These were measured and peaceful words. No harsh edge to them, but no softened edge either.

  “I’m just well . . .” She plopped into the chair. “I’ve been a mess since your engagement party.”

  She’d been a mess? Kimberly’s eyes narrowed and her face tightened. Was this supposed to get her sympathy?

  “Why have you been a mess?”

  “I’m just so embarrassed. I didn’t mean to do any of that. I was just so damned drunk.”

  “You did seem to be rather tipsy.”

  “I just started with a glass of wine to calm my nerves, but then I just kept going. My friends didn’t stop me. I think they egged me on.”

  “You need new friends.”

  Perhaps Sabrina didn’t know how to respond to that, because she simply blinked.

  “You’re right to be embarrassed,” Kimberly said. “But I’m more concerned about how we don’t extend that same kind of situation to the wedding. I’m not interested in that.”

  Sabrina wrung her hands as tears welled up in her eyes. “I totally agree. That’s why I’m here today. I wanted you to know that I would never . . .”

  “But you did.”

  “I mean, I wouldn’t do it again,” The tears started dropping. “Not at your wedding. Not at all.”

  Kimberly wished she could collect those tears in a cup and throw them in Sabrina’s face. This was exactly what Kimberly expected this heffa to do. Start crying and act like the magic of her fairy tears was supposed to make all her anger disappear.

  “So, you’re not going to try and give a drunken toast at our wedding?”

  “No, I promise.”

  “I’m curious. What were you even planning to say in the toast? Our friends and families were there.”

  “I just wanted to give my blessing. I mean in case anyone wondered whether or not I supported the union.”

  “Why would our friends and family care what you thought, Sabrina? That doesn’t make any sense to me.”

  “Maybe they wouldn’t care, but some of the people at that party were at our wedding. Some of the groomsmen were there. It overwhelmed me.”

  “So, then the toast wasn’t about us at all. You were trying to feel not so overwhelmed.”

  Sabrina sighed. The tears were uncontrollable at that point, so it may have seemed insensitive that Kimberly hadn’t offered a tissue. It mattered not to Kimberly.

  “I couldn’t help but remember our wedding day, and then how it had all gone terribly wrong. Ronald was so unrelenting with his lack of forgiveness.”

  This was starting to get uncomfortable. What was the purpose of rehashing that bit of trivia? Kimberly didn’t care to hear about how their marriage had imploded. This child needed a therapist, or better friends.

  “I don’t really want to talk about all that,” Kimberly said. “I just need you to agree to say nothing at our wedding, or I will have you escorted out by security.”

  Sabrina scoffed. Through her distress and sadness, she’d summoned enough energy to disdain the thought of being escorted out. Kimberly meant every word, though.

  “You should talk to someone about all this,” Sabrina said. “Ronald scared me that night. It was like the gentle giant that I knew . . .”

  Oh no this ho did not say gentle giant.

  “. . . had turned into the incredible freaking hulk. I thought he was going to beat the hell out of me that night.”

  “You were afraid of Ron? I could never be afraid of him.”

  “Well you should be. He showed me a violent side that I never knew he had. He took one of our doors completely off the hinges and put several large holes in the walls of our home. The children were scared. He’d turned into a monster that night.”

  “Did he put his hands on you?” Kimberly asked, pretty sure she already knew the answer.

  “No. He never did, but only because I got out of there. I took the children to my mother in Charlotte, and we stayed there until we had a plan.”

  Exactly what Kimberly thought. The Big Ron she knew would cut off his own arm before he hit a woman. He’d been raised by the same kind of southern black women that had raised her.

  “And then?”

  “Then what?”

  “You’re telling the story about the monster Ron became. It sounds like you were the monster. You slept with your ex-boyfriend. . .”

  “My soulmate.”

  “Does that make it better?”

  “Maybe not to you, but Ronald said knowing that made it easier to accept.”

  Sabrina had stopped crying and turned defensive. She stuck her chest out as it heaved up and down. This woman was a real piece of work.

  “You slept with your ex, and then when you divorced Ron, you moved him in with Ron’s children . . .”

  “They’re my children too.”

  “Of course. But you moved your new man under the same roof as a black man’s daughters. I’m surprised Ron didn’t try to get full custody of those girls.”

  She scoffed again, and clutched the handle of her Louis Vuitton handbag. Sabrina seemed annoyed, but Kimberly had given up trying to be nice to this delusional heffa.

  “Ronald would never do that to me.”

  “To you? I don’t think he gives a damn about you. I don’t think he would do that to his daughters, though. Young ladies need their mothers.”

  This third scoff sounded almost like a chuckle. The real Sabrina was coming out. Contrite Sabrina was gone. Entitled Sabrina had arrived.

  “You probably hope to God that he doesn’t give a damn about me. Just know that you don’t have to worry, because I’d never want Ronald back. Not after I saw the man he truly is. I was just warning you.”

  “Noted.”

  “And you don’t have to worry about me saying anything at your wedding. The only reason I’m even attending is to make sure my children aren’t mistreated.”

  “You should probably start making yourself comfortable with them being with us unattended by you. Because you won’t be at every visit Ron has with his children once we’re married.”

  “We’ll determine what that situati
on looks like later. We will probably need to sit down for family counseling sessions to get all this sorted out. We may need to revisit Ronald’s violence also.”

  Kimberly took these for exactly what they were. Threats. Finally, she stood.

  “I think our conversation for today is done,” Kimberly said. “LaShea will show you out of the building.”

  “You don’t want to discuss this? Since you’re calling the shots, now, I thought you’d want to have a say.”

  Kimberly’s eye twitched. She wasn’t unfamiliar with these tactics. Sabrina was throwing rocks, but as soon as something went down, she’d hide her hands. She’d cry, and tell the police she felt threatened by the fat black woman, and then Kimberly would be dragged out of her own building in cuffs.

  Kimberly didn’t give the ho an opening to do anything of the sort. She smiled.

  “I’ll be in touch about the girls’ fittings for their dresses. Thank you for stopping by.”

  “That’s it?”

  “I got what I needed today. Your agreement not to say a word at my wedding. The rest of the conversation will be attended by the men.”

  “My husband won’t come within ten feet of Ronald.”

  Smart man. Kimberly was sure Ron didn’t have the same rules about hitting a man who’d slept with his wife that he had about not hitting women.

  “Sounds like you need to work your magic there,” Kimberly said. “Maybe turn on the waterworks like you did here. Maybe that’ll help.”

  Sabrina stood and stormed out of Kimberly’s office. As soon as she slammed the door, Kimberly burst into laughter. She didn’t know if she’d made things better or worse, but getting her together sure made Kimberly feel better.

  Kimberly was glad not to have this weight on her shoulders for the rest of the day. She was going to pick her wedding dress with her bridesmaids, and she needed all her peace for that outing. She had a feeling it was going to be a battle between the Maids of Honor and the one that thought she should be.

  Chapter 18

  HAHNA

  I sat in the fancy bridal boutique, of course, the first to arrive, sipping my glass of expensive champagne. Samantha sat across from me, drinking her sparkling cider, and looking sour. She was a minister, so how was she so gruff all the time? Didn’t the love of Jesus make a person joyful? It was supposed to. Joy was a fruit of the spirit. Sour was a fruit of something else.

  “Did you have a good day today?” I asked, trying to be friendly.

  “I broke what I thought was a good story, but it didn’t have any teeth. So, no. I did not have a good day. I had a decidedly nothing day, but thank you for asking.”

  “Well, it’s about to get better, because Kimberly is gonna say yes to the dress tonight.”

  “I see a lot of skinny girl selections in here, but not a good variety of plus sizes. Did you and Twila pick this place?”

  “Yes, we did.”

  “Figures.”

  Samantha was not about to take a dump on our Maid of Honor planning. Not tonight. Twila and I did a good job with this one, and Samantha was about to eat her words. The next time she’d sprinkle honey on those mean judgments, ’cause this was going to taste like a rotten lemon going down.

  “I did my research. This bridal boutique not only has the most extensive designer plus size collection in the country, but they also have the ability to customize anything she selects. Kimberly will find a dress here, and we’re going to help.”

  “I’m going to sit back and look at Donny’s Bridal’s website while you guys try to squeeze Kimberly in these size eight dresses.”

  I shuddered. Donny’s Bridal? Clearly, Samantha was unaware that our friend, the bride, was a multi-millionaire. She did not need to wear a dress that cost one hundred ninety-nine dollars. Our budget was under twenty thousand, with the ability to do more if necessary. This was going to be Kimberly’s only wedding (because she and Ron were forever loves) so no way there was going to be any thrift shopping.

  I sipped my champagne and decided not to give Samantha any more energy. I had enough to think about anyway before the others arrived.

  Sam and I were leaving in the morning for Shady Falls, North Carolina. I wanted to fly, and he wanted a road trip, so we could talk for five hours. Sam loved deep, soul-searching conversations, but every time we had one, I was left feeling unsure of our relationship. With us, it always came back to my (supposed) love of money and material possessions. Maybe, this time, I’d be able to steer the conversation in another direction.

  Twila showed up next. For the first time in weeks, she was all smiles. She plopped down in the empty chair next to me and kissed my cheek.

  “Hey girl.”

  “Hey girl, hey,” I said in our customary greeting. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Samantha rolling her eyes. Ugh.

  “Guess who I saw today?” Twila asked.

  I was afraid to guess, but I assumed it was no one bad or scary, because she was smiling.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Your tenant, DeAndre. I saw him at the gym.”

  I smiled. “Oh, did you keep flirting with him? I thought you were gonna take a bite out of him the last time you saw him.”

  “I didn’t really flirt hard at all, but he asked me to spot him on the weight bench. I guess the conversation got so good that he wanted to have breakfast smoothies with me.”

  “A breakfast date?”

  She shook her head. “We are specifically not calling that a date. He says he needs to know me better before he can properly plan a date.”

  “Did you exchange numbers?”

  “No, but I followed him on Instagram, and he followed me back.”

  I shook my head. “Y’all worse than the kids. Gonna be sliding into DM’s?”

  “I won’t,” Twila said. “He’s still coming around at the wrong time. I’m not ready to give a new relationship energy right now.”

  “But you’re not ready to turn him all the way down.”

  “Girl, you saw him. I mean . . .”

  “I get it.”

  I did get it, but it didn’t keep me from worrying about my sister. Something had changed in Twila’s demeanor, and I couldn’t tell if it was the therapy or something else.

  There was no time to ponder this any further, because Kimberly arrived and we had to spring into action. I jumped to my feet seconds before Samantha, who had no idea what was about to happen. Both Twila and I hugged Kim at the same time.

  “Hey y’all,” Kimberly said. “Sorry, I’m late. Traffic.”

  “You’re good. We’re the only ones here so far.”

  Kimberly blew a kiss at Samantha. “Thank you for being on time, girl. I think we only have what, two and a half hours?”

  “That’s right,” Twila said. “And they had to squeeze you in for that. I knew we should’ve told those heffas to come at six o’clock.”

  “Come on, Kim,” I said. “They’ve already set up your dressing room with some of your first selections.”

  Then, I looked over at Samantha. “When the rest of the girls get here, tell them Kimberly will be modeling each dress, so they can get their glass of champagne and relax.”

  Samantha eased back down in her seat as Twila, Kim, and I went to the back of the store. We showed Kim to the full dressing room that was set up for her. We had her undergarments selected too, so that she would look her best in every one of the dresses.

  Kimberly looked at two of the dresses. “These are size twenty-two. I wear a twenty. I might even be an eighteen by the time of the wedding.”

  “Don’t even look at the size number,” Twila said. “Wedding dresses run differently. It’s based on how the dress is cut and your measurements. Some of these dresses have tighter bodices, so you’ll need a bigger size in those. But then some are bigger in the hip area than you need. Trust me on this.”

  I listened to Twila explain and cajole Kimberly into putting on the first dress. I was still stuck on Kimberly trying to get down to size eig
hteen for her wedding. Did she want help on that journey? She hadn’t mentioned it.

  “Kim, you’re trying to lose weight for the wedding?” I asked.

  “Um . . . yes . . . not that you two care about it,” Kim said.

  Twila’s eyes widened and her jaw went slack. She couldn’t have been more surprised than I was.

  “You always act weird when we talk to you about losing weight,” Twila said. “You know I can put together a workout plan for you.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Kim said. “Your workout plans are killer.”

  “They kill fat.”

  “I don’t act weird when you all talk to me about weight loss. You’re the ones who get uncomfortable. You get all body positive and stuff.”

  I was confused. “So, we’re not supposed to be positive?” I asked.

  “It just doesn’t hit right when girls with perfect bodies are telling the fat girl to love her rolls.”

  “You don’t like us saying anything about weight?” Twila asked. “At all?”

  “I haven’t had one conversation with either one of you about it that wasn’t awkward,” Kimberly said. “Sorry. I’m just being honest.”

  “Okay, so we won’t talk about it,” I said. “But let’s get into the first one of these dresses.”

  I wondered how long she’d been holding that in. How long had she been meaning to tell us that our constant refrains of You go with your curvy self or Real women have curves didn’t come across how we wanted them to. I only wanted her to feel good about herself. I never meant to draw attention to the thing she didn’t want to talk about.

  I watched Twila fasten the back of the first dress. A strapless number with a corset and ribbon ties in the back. It was white silk with silver embroidery. I loved this one. It was my favorite of all the dresses we’d set aside for Kimberly.

  “This is a twenty-two?” Kimberly asked. “It fits perfectly.”

  “I told you to trust me,” Twila said. “I used your accurate measurements. I want you to pick a dress that needs the fewest alterations.”