The Other Woman

The scent of pre-Thanksgiving, crushed autumn leaves, and a tinge of cinnamon wafts through my car as I drive threw the crisp neighborhoods of West Palm Beach. With a silver aluminum container of brownies in the passenger seat, and a medium sized Tupperware container of lemon cheesecake, the car comes to a halt as I stop at a red light.

I already know that this Thanksgiving will be an interesting one. Anytime my family got together for some sort of 'event', something unexpected occurred. When the light finally turns a crimson shade of green, I lightly push on the gas pedal, turning onto the 25th street towards my parent's house.

It's the Wednesday before Thanksgiving Day and with my windows wined all the way down, the light breeze outside has the opportunity to nip and slip through my hair. The sun only shines through thin pockets of cloud today, resulting in a cloudy and shadowesque day. The tiny chunks of gravel underneath the stoned driveway gnash against the underside of my car as I drive slowly towards a sun-pocketed parking area.

"Seny!" squeals Ayla, my older sister as she pulls me in for a welcoming hug at the front door. I roll my eyes at her proclivity for hugging, but smile nonetheless having not seen my sister in about a year or so.
"Just put this in the kitchen for me," I mumble with a grin, shoving the Tupperware containers of cheesecake and brownies into her empty hands. She shakes her head at my lack of enthusiasm but grins as she walks towards the kitchen. Trudging back to my car, I retrieve my one bag of luggage, quickly taking notice of the vehicles parked next to mine. I smile, as it occurs to me that I can figure out which car belonged to which sibling, because they simply matched each personality.

Chucking myself inside the house, I let out a small breath of relief when the door closes and I let my heavy bag fall to the tiled floor.
"Hey! When did you get here?!" my father bellows from around the corner, his gray head double looking at the sight of me.
"Just now," I mumble with a small smile, "I still sleep in my room right?"

He nods his head, "Haven't touched a thing. You're the last one comin' I think," he ponders aloud.
"Yea, mom said that Ayla, me, and Kieffer were coming."
"Ok, ok," he says aloud to himself, he really was an old man.

I turn my back to him and head down the long hallway to my old bedroom. Inside, I plop my bag down on the end of the bed, nodding in approval that nothing had been changed. The walls were still a crimson shade of purple with a cloudy white ceiling, cobwebs hanging around the corners. The pearl shaded blinds were still tightly shut, letting the room appear as if a dark shadow were inside. My bed, a little crumpled, had the exact same sheets on it when I had visited the last year, although I could tell my tidy mother had washed it.

"You're here," my younger brother Kieffer greets with a smirk, leaning his thin frame against the arch of the doorway.
"Hey," I reply while seating myself on the edge of the twin bed, heaving over my luggage to pack away my clothes. "What time d'you get here?"

"Yesterday," he yawns, "I didn't want to go through the heavy traffic."
"I can tell," I chortle, taking out a simple yellow shirt to wear for the remainder of the day.

He walks himself inside the room, letting his body fall onto the bed, allowing the mattress and myself to wobble from his vibrant moves.
"So what goodies did you make and bring for me?!" he asks in a highly enthusiastic voice, similar to someone else I knew.
"I made brownies and a lemon cheesecake, and I would never spend money on you, so don't waste your breath," I tease.

When he bends down and begins thrashing my clothes about the room, I swear I'm sharing a room with an eleven year old instead of a 21 year old, but I suppose in men, there's no difference.

"Seny, you didn't have to bake both things," my mother says as she appears at the doorway, a tired smile occupying her lips.
"I know, but I did anyway."
"Was traffic bad? Because on he news, they said that the Palmetto and 826 were jammed."
"A little, nothing that I wasn't expecting though, and it wasn't bumper to bumper," I reply.
She gives me a wry smile before disappearing from my room to where I assume is the kitchen, because I can hear my father talking to her about laundry.

"Sooo... have you heard about Ayla?" my brother questions me, finishing his tirade on my luggage.
"Heard what?"
"About that guy she was dating?"
"What about the guy she was dating?"

He sighs being annoyed at my thoughtfulness and sits upright on my bed, a surprisingly serious expressions etched on his face.
"They might be getting married dumbass."
"What?!" I exclaim, the shirt that I had been holding slipping to the floor.
He nods, "Yep. She and I were talkin' this morning and she told me the asshole proposed to her."
"Please don't tell me she said yes," I beg
"Naw," he snorts, "she told me she said to ask her later, which hopefully means no."

No one in the family had any positive feelings on Ayla's extreme relationship with Terrence. Their relationship was either extremely good, or extremely bad. At one solemn point, I even questioned my big sister if he had been physically abusive towards her, but she always claimed he wasn't.

"I hate that guy," my brother mutters grittily from beside me.
"Who doesn't?" I reply

"What guy?" Ayla interjects as she suddenly appears standing amiably at the doorway. Her auburn hair looks sleek and vibrant in color in its short bob. Her porcelain skin dawning no make-up looked almost perfect. She saunters over to the bed, cramming it now with three adult bodies on its twin-sized mattress.

"Terrence," I finally sigh, now closing the empty suitcase. I watch as she rolls her eyes before slapping Kieffer upside his rather large head.
"I know you probably brought it up, gossip king."
Laughing, I tuck a dark tendril behind my ear, waiting for a valid explanation.

"We're not engaged or anything, and that's it. End of story. I don't really see the big deal about the guy," she mutters
"I'm hungry, is there any food that can actually be eaten TODAY?" he asks, steering clear of any 'chick' conversation.
"Nope," she snorts, "Everything's for tomorrow, but I think I saw some stale bread on top of the fridge," she laughs. I quickly join in, loving the playful bantering occurring between my brother and sister.

The day had quickly slithered by. Brimmed with lunch with my family, a few hours of pointless chatting, dinner, and after the old ones had gone to bed, horror movies with my siblings. Midnight had quickly struck and yawns were now emerging from each of us. Soon, Ayla had bid her adieus and left for bed. A smooth ten minutes later, my brother, whose head had been dropping from sleep at two minute intervals mumbled what I think was goodnight and stumbled down the corridor to his old bedroom. A little tired, and even sleepier, I turn on off the television with the remote and check to lock the doors before walking towards my bedroom.

The darkness quickly vanishes like a ghost as I switch on the bright light. Rubbing my increasingly heavier eyelids, I push my hair back into a ponytail, as to not leave any hay loads of shed hair on the white pillow. But before my mind can properly dispel into slumber, I think of him. So with a tired smile on display, I pick up my cell phone from the wooden dresser and give him a pleasant text message.

Happy Spanksgiving: Be thankful you have me, like I am for you. xoxo

Putting the device on vibrate, I drop it back onto the dresser before crawling into my snug bed for a goodnights sleep.

Grunting, I grab a paper towel from the deliciously smelling kitchen and snatch the blue bottle of Windex cleaner from the cabinet, before trudging back to the living room to resume cleaning the mirrors. It had always been an annoying tradition, or rather tendency, for my mother to clean like a slave on Thanksgiving morning. When we had been younger, we were forced to clean, but now we did it just to feel good that we were helping our parents out. But that didn't stop it from being horribly annoying.

"I finished the bathroom!" Ayla exclaims from the along the hallway, the slapping of rubber gloves sounding off.
"Good for you, want a cookie?" I grumble as she pasts me in the living room. She has a smirk on her face, noticing my miserably demeanor while cleaning.
"You almost done?" she asks
"Yea," I mutter, hunger rumbling in my stomach. She had obviously heard the not so quiet rumble, asking "Didn't you eat breakfast yet?"
"No, I just wanted to get the cleaning done and over with."
"Go eat dumbass," she replies with a roll of her eyes. And so, I did.

Thanksgiving dinner in the Reynolds household usually occurred at six in the afternoon, possibly seven. And after all the cooking, cleaning, and talking, dinner was finally prepared. The table was beautifully set, and everyone was casually dressed.

"So, who wants to say the blessing?" my mother asks around the table. When no one replies, as usual, she sighs. "Ok, then we all say a prayer." Disapproving grunts sound off from everyone at the table, so she again sighs.
"Ok, then Seny, you say the prayer."

Oh great...

Everyone was hungry, you could hear their lurching stomachs rumble and see the clear drool brimming the lips of my family, so I quickly say a short prayer.
"Dear God, thank you for this meal that we are about to eat, because a lot of people around the world are starving right now. So please bless them at this moment. Uh, thanks for having such a supportive family, because many people don't. Thank you for all the loved ones I have in my life, the clothes I have on my back, all the opportunities you've given us to all succee—"

"Hungry," my brother coughs from the other end of the table. I crack one eye open to see my mother punch him lightly on the arm, followed by a cross glare.

"Anyways," I continue, "Thanks for everything. Amen." And before I can even sit my ass down in the chair below me, the vultures stick out their hands and grab for the nearest item of food their skinny arms could reach. I shake my head, not surprised the least before turning into a vulture myself, reaching for turkey, salad, rice, potatoes, and everything else.

When all the clanking of sharing out the food had stopped and now everyone is eating the delicacies in their plates, conversation quickly arises.
"So, have you spoken to your ex fiancé anytime?" Ayla asks me.
"No, why would I?"
"Just wondering," she smiles
I roll my eyes while asking my brother to pass me the gravy, which he willfully complies.
"Aint you gonna quit that job at the restaurant?" my father questions me
"Not anytime soon. But Jennifer is helping me get this job at this design firm."
"Oh yea, I forgot you majored in Interior Design," my brother adds, a river of cheese from the mac n cheese dribbling down his chin.

"Yep," I nod, setting my fork down. "Jennifer knows these people who own their own design firm, and their looking for people to add to the team. So I sent in my resume a couple weeks ago."
"Well lets hope you get it," my mother says, "because restauranting aint no job for a 26 year old."
"I'm 25 mom."
"25," she reiterates.

A minute or two of silver utensils clashing against plates and teeth rings through the table.
"So, you seeing anyone Seny?" Ayla persists. I'm not sure what to say, I really don't want to get into the dynamics of explaining my relationship with Tre, so I simply shrug my shoulders.

"Is that a yes or a no?"
"Its an I dunno, bug off," I spout.
"Fine."
"You guys always fight, give it a fucking rest," my brother suddenly speaks.
"Watch your language," my mother warns.

Ayla suddenly crashes her fork to the plate, the loud ringing sound jerking me from my seat.
"What's wrong with you?" my father asks with annoyance
"I'm pregnant."

All noise ceases in the room. The food that my brother had been pleasantly chewing on falls back onto his plate, his jaw open for miles. My mother and fathers' eyes are stapled wide open, while I stare at my sister in awe. She frowns before putting her head down in disappointment, a small pout on her lips.

"You're what?" my mother asks, still in shock.
"Pregnant," my father answers for her.
"Um, is it with Terrence?" I ask

She nods her head slowly. Oh joy... That's probably why he had proposed to her.
"How far along are you?" my brother quirks
"2 months," she sighs, picking her fork back up to eat, as if NOTHING important was in the air. She always handled obscure situations so airily, and it annoyed me. If I were pregnant, I'd probably die of mortification. She's only three years older than me, it was going to be somewhat difficult for her when the baby would be born.

My father grunts something before picking up his plate, standing up and walking towards his bedroom to have his meal there instead.
"Is it that big of deal?" Ayla barks as we hear the bedroom door slam shut.
"He'll get over it," Kieffer answers, him too now resuming his eating.

"Why'd you have to announce that right now!" mom angrily whispers
"Well I just thought'd you'd like to know. But obviously I was wrong," Ayla replies briskly.

Mom only gives us another ten minutes of her presence before following my father into their bedroom, but chooses not to slam the door.
"Good going Ayla, although I aint surprised. How could our family ever have a normal get together," I roll my eyes at her.
"I don't care," she mutters, rinsing out her mouth with a glass of white wine.
"Do you ever?" my brother adds, his voice a bit bitter.
"I don't see the big deal, I'm twenty-fucking-eight. I can take care of a child by myself if I have to. I don't work in a restaurant nor am I still in school like you idiots."

I only sigh as I finish my meal, ignoring my big sister and her wayward comments. After dinner I quickly take portions of the desserts I made and wander into my bedroom to eat in solace. Locking the door behind me, I set the plate of brownies and a slice of creamy cheesecake down on the nightstand and check the clock. Its 8 o' clock, and all I want in this moment is to be wrapped in Tre's arms, and then some.

Surely enough as I pick up my phone to see if he had replied, I have one text message from him and a voicemail. Another voicemail was from Rick, which I'd eventually listen to, but not right now. The text reads : Happy Spanksgiving to you too, and you're right. You should be thankful for nabbing a guy like me.

I shake my head before deleting the message and moving on towards his voicemail.
: I miss you baby, gimme a call when you're parents are done interrogating you.

Giggling, I erase the message before scrolling down to his name and giving him a call.

"Hey," I greet, settling myself on the bed and switching on the television.
"I see you got my message."
"Yeah, the interrogation ended quickly and surprisingly," I mutter, flicking back and forth between channels.
"Tell Tre all about it," he says in a fatherly tone.
"Well yesterday was fine, but then at dinner my sister happily announced she was pregnant."
He gives a throaty laugh from the other end of the phone, a child's voice whining nearby. "You're gonna be an aunt," he replies
"It seems so."
"You'll be great, I can teach you a few things," he replies
I snort "I'll be looking forward to that."

A loud belch erupts through the phone right into my ear, causing me to jump.
"Jeez Tre, you didn't have to burp right into my fuckin ear," I grumble while sticking my finger into my ear to shake away the loud sound.
"Excuse me," he replies in a girly voice. "We cooked a lot of food over here. There'll be leftovers for at LEAST three days."
"That's nothing," I reply, "We usually have leftovers for a whole week."

"Yeah, well I'm in a band!" he mocks.

I find myself laughing, happy to be speaking with him.
"Guess what Seny," he says as I hear paper rustling on his end of the phone.
"What?"
"I know what you can get me for my birthday now," he mumbles secretively
"Yea?"
"Uh huh. You can go to Victoria's Secret and buy yourself these things called babydoll dresses. Buy about ten of em' and model them for me."
"I own about two of those actually, and they're pretty pricey. But fortunately, I already got your gift, so too bad."

"Nooo," he whines, "This will be the ultimate gift, I'm looking through the catalog right now."
"No, no. You'll like the sweater I got you better," I laugh.

When I hear no response on the other end, I giggle even harder.
"Please tell me you didn't buy me a sweater," he chokes out.
"Maybe, maybe not," I yawn, gripping my finger around a chunk of chocolate brownie. "Mmmm, soooo good," I murmur into the phone.

"My dick?" he asks in a casual whisper.
"No, these brownies I made."
"I think what I have is better," he replies.

"Daaaaaaad, lets go," I hear a young girl whine.
"Is that Ramona?" I ask
"Yeah, I promised her and Kito we'd go see a movie tonight."
"Awww," I coo, now using my finger as a poking device and licking off the cheesecake residue.

"Yeah, well Happy Thanksgiving Seny, I'll talk to you later."
"Happy Thanksgiving to you too, Bye."

Before long, Thanksgiving had passed and I was home again. Jennifer had quit waiting on hand and knee for Jack, plus he was fully recovered from his 'broken' arm. On the bright side though, Jennifer had presented my feeble resume to Miami Design Inc., a prestigious design firm who were hiring interior designers such as myself, and other artsy employees. And to my surprise one day, I received a call from them while driving to work. An interview was shortly set up, in which I nailed. The only problem now was finding out what day I started, and praying that it would not coincide with my plans with Tre, which was only a week away.

"Have you spoken to Rick recently?" Jennifer asks me after taking a large bite out of her grilled cheese sandwich.
"Yeah, last week. He got a raise," I mumble dismissively, rubbing my temples.
"I haven't seen Mark in a while," she says airily.
"Me neither. He hates Jack, and I think he has a little something for you."

She shakes her head unknowingly, a small smile on her lips. "I don't think so, well the liking me part. I'm not his type AT ALL."
Shrugging my shoulders, I stir around the ice in my sprite as we simply talk to each other during our lunch breaks. My feet had been aching all morning, so I had insisted on Jen meeting me at the Bistro for lunch, and at least she got food at a discount.

"Did Jack stop by this morning to pick up his mail?" she asks after taking a dainty sip of her coffee.
"Nope."
"I told him to come pick up those fucking bank books two days ago, they're flooding the fucking closet," she seethes.

Taking a bite out of my cheese lasagna, I take note of the bustle of people entering and leaving the restaurant, there stomachs full and hearty. If I got the job at Miami Design Inc., I would surely miss this place. Ken and his grumpy demeanor, my co-workers and their corny jokes, the customers; both rude and kind, the fragrances that only the kitchen could produce, and again Ken, I loved his grumpiness.

"Is that all that's inside those little packages, bank books?" I ask, getting back to dull reality.
"Yea, and he said some other office stuff, I just want them out, their cramming the closet," she complains.
"Tell me about it. I went inside the closet to find wrapping paper for Tre's present, and like two of them pummeled my head," I suppress a laugh. Jen can't hold the giggles in though, and shakes her head with laughter, earning a quick kick under the table from my foot.

"You're leavin' next week right?"
I nod my head, rubbing my thumb over the 'friendship' ring that Tre had given me on my last visit. I only recall removing it from my finger once after he had given it to me, all other times it had been stuck to my finger like glue, super glue. Jennifer checks her silver digital watch from her wrist and hurriedly finishes the remains of her coffee, indicating that it was time for her departure.
"See you at home," she calls after picking up her purse and standing up.

"Um, where's the money to pay for your lunch?" I ask, my eyebrows rising questionably.
"I love you," she coos, before pushing in her chair and skipping out of the restaurant.

My mind is made up as I pace back and forth in my bedroom. Twiddling the silver ring on my finger, as if it had the answers underneath, nerves begin assaulting my limbs. Causing me to jitter and stumble out ridiculous phrases to myself.
"Do I tell him?!" I chant aloud to the walls of my room. I was going to see Tre three days from now, and my hefty luggage is already packed!

"Shit, shit, shit!" I cringe in an enduring chant. Pacing from the bed to the dresser, fear continues conjuring in my body. It had a menacing hold on me for the simple fact that I loved him, Tre.

It's the only sane reason as to why I get giddy at the mere mention of his name or band. It's the only sane explanation as to why I would suddenly burst into an unfamiliar Green Day song when in the shower, butchering the poetic lyrics and sounds that Billie Joe had so carefully created. It's the only sane reason why the ring he gave me found a permanent home on my finger. I loved him. I was in love...

Jennifer suddenly appears at the doorway, my phone which looks turned off in her hand, and a curious gleam in her eye.
"You ok in here?" she asks slowly, her eyebrows cocking in interest. She leans her frame against the open door.

"I think, I dunno," I mutter hastily, the silver moon outside casting an odd but luminous glare in my room. She nods her head almost as if it's some brand of Morse code.
"Ok, well Tr—"
"I love him," I interrupt her, stopping dead in my thoughtless tracks. I watch as her eyes widen before quickly shoving my phone into her jeans pocket.
"Love who?!" she cautiously asks.

"Who else? Tre., I reply ignoring her vigilant demeanor. She takes my phone back out of her pocket before placing the device on my dresser top.
"Aww, I'm happy for you," she smiles sincerely while folding her arms across her chest.
"Me too," I sigh, flopping onto my bed like a love stricken teenager. "I love him a lot actually. I don't think I can wait until Wednesday, and I'm not even sure if I should tell him."

"So why DO you love him?"
"I dunno, cos he's attractive, funny, charming. And he makes me happy, you know?" I finish spouting, now looking up at my best friend with a killer smile.

"Oh gosh, you've got it bad," Jen gags, sticking her finger into her mouth to faux vomit.
"I know," I giggle, "But I just love everything about him. He's a great dad, well from what I've heard and seen. I love his corny jokes, his fucking hair, the way he kisses, gaahh!" I almost yell at the end, surprising even myself at how happy and giddy I am.

She laughs from the doorway an ounce of mischief in her eyes.
"You're like a high school girl, jeez," she states. "Are you going to tell him?"
I shrug, "I want to, but I don't know if it's the right time or not. What do you think?" I inquire.

"I think you just did," she grins, unfolding her arms and pointing towards my phone on the dresser.

A brick of seriousness smashes onto my face, all traces of romance and happiness gone, as if I had never felt that way.

"Excuse me?" I ask strictly, eyeing her with dangerous calm. I push myself off the bed to stand. Jennifer gives me a wry smile before pointing at the phone yet again, which I now notice is ON and RUNNING.
"He's on the phone," she whispers, "I came in here to give you it because you left it out in the kitchen and it kept ringing," she explains.

My hand automatically covers my mouth, pure shock and terror running and chilling up my spine. My eyes are wide open, unable to blink. He had heard my entire confession, my true and blue feelings towards him.

"Um, I smell something burning on the stove, Bye," Jen squawks in a mess of hurried words, before literally running from my room. Taking slow and cautious steps towards the phone, as if it were a volatile explosive, I close my eyes and pray that he had hung up, not wishing to be on hold for so long. With my eyes still closed, I pick up the device, cracking one eyelid open to see if he were still there.

"Oh, my, God," I mouthe in silence as I see the clock running and his name on the screen. He had heard EVERYTHING.
"Hello?" I hear him repeat back and forth, the phone staying glued to my hand, not bothering to put it to my ear. Not thinking and in an embarrassed frenzy, I push the 'no' button, hanging up on Tre.

Yes, that's how we solve the problem, by hanging up.

I bite my bottom lip before turning the phone off completely, not wishing to speak to him ANY time soon. Nearly a second later, rage replaces the embarrassment.

"JENNIFER!!!"