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My grandmother died two years ago from natural causes, and they loved each other unconditionally. Once upon a time, I thought the same way too. I thought love would be something I’d be into, until Gemma broke my heart.
I won’t allow another woman to hurt me ever again.
“Well, everyone can’t experience that type of love.”
“You’re wrong, everyone has a twin flame. The one thing I liked about James is that we shared the same view on love and marriage, he wanted it so bad but the woman he loved got away. He regrets not marrying her.”
“What happened to the woman he fell in love with?”
He hands me a garden tool, abruptly changing the subject. “You want to help me plant an apple tree?”
I nod and remove my shirt. My grandfather failed to mention that if you love the wrong woman, it can cause you to lose yourself and break you in ways that can’t be repaired.
Poppy
Two nights later, I pour Sophia a shot of whiskey and take a seat across from her. She decided to visit me at my job. I’m very excited because tonight I’m going to the American Billionaire Club to meet my potential fiancé. I picture what he will look like and his qualities that will impress my mother. At this point, he doesn’t have anything in common with me. I daydream about my mother welcoming me with open arms when I tell her the good news. As soon as I leave this place, I’m going home to change.
The tiny bar is packed and the smell of stale food wafts through the place. Honestly, I don’t understand how this place is still in business. It violates every health code, and the food is trash and tastes bland.
I told Sophia to meet me at work since she wanted to talk, and because I’m ashamed of where I live.
Her hazel eyes loom over my skimpy outfit and flat stomach. A frown tugs at the corner of her mouth.
“I wish my stomach was as flat as yours after having Bailey. It looks like an inflatable balloon.” My sister’s tone is as heavy as a boulder.
I come from a family where looks are important, especially for the women. The only goal of the women in our family is to marry for wealth. When Sophia wanted to work as a registered nurse, my mother forbade it and threatened to cut her off from the family.
I grab her hand and kiss it. “Don’t speak about yourself in a negative way. You’re gorgeous. Those stretch marks are a sign of strength and what you conquered. It took balls to carry a baby for nine months. Don’t listen to Mother about your body, normal people have flaws.”
My sister and I have always been close and ever since our mother disowned me, she’s the only one who keeps in touch. My brother, Jimmy, told me it was strictly business and since he co-owns his grandfather’s tech company, he says he can’t associate with me, which is fine with me. My brother’s heart has always been as black as night. My stepfather and I have never been close, so it’s not a loss that he’s not speaking to me either. It stung in the beginning, the way my family treated me, but I have always been the odd bod in the family anyway. A black sheep is a better word. I always found myself different from them, not wanting to follow my mother’s strict rules.
Sophia’s gaze scans around the bar and she hugs her purse close to her chest as if someone is going to snatch it. She’s beautiful in an angelic type of way in her designer dress that hugs her hourglass figure and her kinky, curly hair that touches her shoulders, whereas I wear a relaxer. Mother was pissed that I decided to straighten my hair.
She lifts the glass to her mouth and quickly downs the amber liquor, then coughs loudly.
I raise my eyebrow. “Is it okay for you to drink while you’re breastfeeding?”
She frowns, setting her glass down on the wobbly table. “I took Bailey off the nipple a few weeks ago. She’s at the age where she thinks my tit is her teething ring.” She scrunches her nose as if she smells something foul.
“You should have married Link,” she says out of the blue, but I know she’s been wanting to say it for a while because she blurted it out and when she’s pondering something, she never knows how to say it.
Anger makes its way to my throat. She knows about the way he treated me. She knows about the girls he fucked behind my back, the way he talked down to me as if I’m stupid. She knows he was my ball and chain that was harmful to my state of mind. He emotionally abused me, used my insecurities against me, chipping at my self-worth. I’m sick of my family thinking that it’s okay for someone to abuse you just because they’ve got a little bit of money in their pockets.
I muster up as much courage as possible as I straighten my vertebrae.
“I would rather live under the Brooklyn Bridge begging for money and be broke than marry him.”
Every time she sees me, she always says this. As if it’s my fault that I decided not to be with him. Technically, it is my fault—I left him, but for good reason.
“You can tell Mother to stop sending you out here to convince me to go back to him,” I snap.
She shakes her head. “She wants the best for you.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “How so? By being with someone who abuses me?”
She strokes my arm, her attempt of trying to calm me down, but it doesn’t work. I clutch the table so hard my knuckles throb.
“Your life would be so much better, and you wouldn’t have to work at this place among the poor.”
