A Love Like This (Book 1)

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 the
n 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 so
ft, I think maybe I was wrong. M
aybe 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?
”