When You Fall... (2 page)

All heads turned to her now, and not a friendly face could be found in the crowd after Bentley’s declaration. All sat waiting for her response.

“Huh,” she said, no idea where to go with this now. This was so not turning out the way she’d envisioned. “Well, then… er… sorry. I’m sorry,” she said, pointing to the minister now. “Continue on,” she said, before plopping down. Her butt hit the hard pew with a dull thud, only to pop back up a few seconds later.

“You know what?” she said, looking around at the faces still trained on her. “I just remembered that I’ve got to be somewhere,” she said, a weak smile in place. “So sorry to interrupt.” With a shake of her head, she forced another smile and checked her wrist, pretending to be engrossed with the timepiece on her arm. “You won’t believe this, but I’m late. Yes, I’m late for that engagement, so I’d better get moving,” she said, looking around for her purse, which was now in the hands of her friend Sandra. As promised, Carter’s three besties attended the wedding to lend their moral support, but they’d had
no
idea of her plan.

“Oh, hell no,” the bride said, coming out of her shock-induced trance. “I know you didn’t come up in here trying to break up my wedding,” she said, moving her arm like some gangsta in a movie, warming up for a fight. That wasn’t good. She was way larger and taller than Carter and apparently used to fighting for her man. The preacher cleared his throat again, shocked now for a different reason.

“LaShondra, let’s remember whose house we are standing in,” he said, trying to get everyone back on track. Too late. Two of the bridesmaids were moving away from their places on the altar, one of them removing her earrings, and the largest one, the matron of honor, had stepped out her shoes, handing her bouquet of flowers off to one of the flower girls. How sad. Even the flower girls were giving Carter the evil eye.

“I’m so sorry,” Sandra said, popping up out of her seat, standing up next to Carter. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, louder this time, waiting until she had everyone’s attention. “She’s been off her meds. What can you do? I’ve tried everything to get her to take her medication,” she continued, as she handed Carter her purse; actually, it was more like hitting her with it than handing it to her. She reached for Carter’s arm and turned her to face the aisle.

She gave Carter a small push to get her moving, stepping around those seated next to her in their row. Sandra’s voice was the only sound in the quiet room.

“You know it’s so hard to get a handle on mental illness,” Sandra said, as they inched past the first few people seated next to them—a young couple who’d politely turned their legs so she and Carter could pass, and a little old lady sitting next to them who apparently couldn’t hear.

“Excuse me,” Carter said to the elderly woman, who was looking at her with confusion in her eyes. Sandra had to bend down to the woman’s ear. “Excuse me. May we pass?” she said, louder and directly into the old woman’s hearing aid. The little lady turned, and they scooted pass her little knobby knees. They were sharp, Carter thought, as they passed her.

“We are still trying to figure out the correct dosage. You all know how that can be,” Sandra said with a laugh. “Excuse me,” she said again, this time to a very heavy-set man. He was wearing a nice tie, even though it was rather on the short side, lying on his overly large stomach. He stood to let them pass, but it was too much girth to get around. He sat back down and they climbed over his legs. Carter had to hold her dress down so her goodies wouldn’t show.

“She’s been to so many psychiatrists already,” Sandra said, stopping now. They were two people away from reaching the end of their row. Sandra’s eyes found the bride.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt. And such a beautiful wedding, too,” she apologized, waving her hand to include all of the wedding party. “You look amazing, girl. You are rocking that wedding dress—got yourself a fine man—got the whole happily-ever-after thing working for you,” she added, waving to the bride like they were old pals.

She added her best we-will-survive smile while pushing Carter past the last two people. “Excuse me,” she said to the woman, and then the young boy, who must have been her son, who thought it might be fun to poke his finger in Sandra’s butt. Sandra gave him a mother’s look reserved for small children that misbehaved. He ducked his head and pulled his legs up on the pews, wrapping his arms around his knees. He was old enough to know better.

Gwen, Carter’s other friend, was standing at the end of the row, waiting, and grabbed Carter’s free arm after they’d cleared their row. Carter was now sandwiched between Gwen and Sandra, as the three of them scooted down the center aisle, headed for the back door of the church.

“Yes, so sorry. We’ll get her back to the institution this minute. You folks don’t worry,” Gwen said, speaking up this time, her smile in place, even if it was a little on the sickly side; but it was the best she could do, given the circumstances. Glancing over her shoulder, she noted the movement of one bridesmaid who was making her way down the aisle, following them, feet clear of shoes, ears clear of earrings.

Sandra and Gwen sped up, moving Carter along, trying not to take off in a run; a fast shuffle was the best way to describe their trek.

Carter spotted the last of her crew, Francine —Frankie for short —standing tall and formidable at the end of the center aisle, holding open the door that led into the church’s vestibule. Of the four of them, Frankie was the most fearsome, the one you wanted with you in a fight. She took the spot behind Carter as the three of them scooted past.

Once they were clear of the sanctuary, Sandra turned and looked back at the congregation, giving them a final wave, like she was some beauty pageant queen, and the congregation her adoring fans.

“Best wishes,” she said, her last words before the doors closed. They moved quickly to the door leading to the front of the church and then outside into the sun. It was the perfect day for a wedding. The sky was clear, the sun was bright; a perfect start to a new life.

Frankie had her car keys in her hand. Carter and Frankie had ridden over together, and Sandra and Gwen had come in their own cars. Frankie raised a finger to her lips to silence Carter until they were out of reach of the church doors. Her girls had her surrounded, dragging her down the front church steps and then the sidewalk, a run as fast as their heels would allow. They looked like the secret service protecting the president after a shot had been fired. They heard rather than saw the commotion behind them, choosing to silently concentrate on making their escape.

Frankie had removed herself from the back of their small pack to unlock her car doors. Gwen opened the front passenger door and pushed Carter in, closing the door behind her.

“We’ll meet you at her house,” Sandra said, over the top of Frankie’s hood, like the mission was still underway.

“Okay,” Frankie replied, sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. It purred softly to life. Carter watched from the car as Sandra and Gwen walked quickly to theirs. Then she turned to find a large group of people gathered on the front church steps now, watching. A man with a camera in his hands stood recording the craziness. That big bridesmaid was shaking her fist at them standing alongside several others with cell phones, all videotaping the attempted breakup artist that was now Carter. Frankie put her car in gear and pulled away.

“I can’t breathe,” Carter said.

“Put your head down between your legs. Where is your inhaler?” Frankie said, her hand softly on Carter’s back as she sought to get her breathing under control.

“In here,” Carter said, pulling her purse into her lap. She found her inhaler and took a puff. She laid back against the car’s supple leather seats. It was quiet in the car, with only the sound of the motor breaking the silence. It would take more than a minute to get to Carter’s since she didn’t live close to the church.

“You okay?” Frankie asked.

“No,” Carter said.

“I knew it. I knew it. You were bound to do something crazy. When did you come up with this plan?” Frankie said, shaking her head.

“Where are you taking me?” Carter asked.

“To your apartment.”

Carter nodded, sat back and closed her eyes. She would not cry.

#

Thirty minutes later, they pulled up to Carter’s apartment. She lived on the ground floor of the Windgate Luxury Apartment Complex, complete with her personal garage. She moved here about a year ago—moving on up and all that—plus, her apartment was close to work and some of the best shopping and exclusive restaurants in the city. Most importantly, it was also home to a large population of the town’s wealthy single men, and that was always a good place to be, she’d been told.

Gwen and Sandra arrived soon after. They must have been following them from the church, but Carter wasn’t sure. She’d been either bent forward searching for air or laid back, eyes closed, contemplating the benefits of life as an invisible woman. If only she could acquire that superhuman skill.

Frankie parked behind Carter’s garage while Gwen and Sandra pulled into the spots available for visitors. They all met at Carter’s front door and waited while she unlocked it before following her in.

Carter kicked off her shoes, threw her purse on the coach, walked over to the refrigerator in her designer dress—she’d worn a soft, white frothy number in preparation for her and Bentley’s trip to the courthouse. Delusion was apparently a silent criminal, sneaking up on people while their backs were turned.

She pulled out a bottle of wine from her refrigerator, removed the cute cork stopper with grapes falling from the top of it and took a long swig, forgoing the search for the appropriate stemware. Who cared. She wanted a piece of oblivion—fast. She scanned the faces of her closest friends. Disappointment, sadness and worry resided on them.

She offered her bottle to Frankie, who took a quick swig herself, albeit a little more daintily than Carter’s had been, before passing it back to her. Carter offered the bottle to both Gwen and Sandra, who waved it away. Fine. More for her, she thought. She took another swig before walking and plopping down in one of the kitchen chairs. She was tired.

It was silent and still in her kitchen.

“Crazy Carter. That’s what you all are thinking, right? She’s really lost it now,” Carter said, breaking the silence.

“Was this about last night?” Frankie asked, with sympathy. She pulled out a chair and joined Carter at the table.

“What about last night?” Gwen said, looking between the two of them.

Carter offered a short nod, which Frankie translated to mean,
I’m
not discussing last night now
.

“Did you lose your mind, girl? Who are you?” Gwen said, less sympathetic than Frankie. She joined the two at the table. Her face was a study in disappointment. “What?” she said, catching the warning looks from both Frankie and Sandra.

“
That was
crazy,” Gwen said, returning their looks with a stern one. “I’ve never lied to you and I’m not about to start now. We were there to support you, not to provide cover or back up for you in a fight,” Gwen said, never one to mince words. She pulled out a chair for Sandra to sit. Sandra had been standing near the window, peeking outside through the blinds, on the lookout for what, Carter didn’t know.

Carter looked away and took another swig from her wine bottle, which was now cradled in the crook of her arm. She had decided to keep the real reason for her behavior to herself. “I really wanted one,” she said, glancing at Frankie with a plea in her eyes for her to play along. There wasn’t too much playing—there was actually much truth in that statement. She did want one.

“Wanted what? An ass-kicking from a wedding party?” Gwen asked, frustrated.

“A man.”

“Not that again,” Sandra said, her hands going to her head to cradle it.

“My own man. Is that too much to ask? ” Carter responded, defiantly sitting back in her chair, glancing at their faces.

“Hate to break it to you Carter, but Bentley was taken. That’s the point of the whole wedding ceremony. Remember? The bride and groom stand side by side in front of a preacher … to take vows, to each other,” Gwen said.

“I know,” she said, looking at them, less defiant now, “But I still wanted one.”

“If you say that again, I swear, I’m going to hit you,” Gwen said.

“I’m not the only one that wants me to have one either,” Carter said, ignoring Gwen. “My father would kill for me to have one. My stepmother and all of my wicked stepsisters have one, and not just anyone. Of course they have the really good ones—successful, handsome, love their wives—but not me. Except for Bentley, who my dad loved, I can’t seem to find one that’s even halfway decent,” she said, stopping to take another nip from her bottle.

“All the ones I’ve encountered have issues—don’t believe in settling down, taking the Lord’s be fruitful and multiply edict to the extreme. Then there’s the ones with swag; you know we black women love a man with swagger—a man’s man—one who can work you over in bed, all dominant, and commanding, all come here Kissy.”

“Who is Kissy?” Sandra asked.

Carter rolled her eyes. “I’ve been at this for two, maybe even three years now, seriously. You all know that,” Carter continued, looking between Gwen and Sandra. “The first year was filled with singles’ groups at the church; that whole pray-and-wait-on-it thing. It will come to you. Which I did,” she said, glancing at them again.

“That’s not the way it works. It will come on God’s time,” Sandra said, the ever-patient one.

“And when do you think that might be?” Carter asked. She sat back in her chair, took a long sip of wine, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“It’s not for us to question God’s timing,” Sandra said.

“Anyway,” Carter said, rolling her eyes heavenward. “Since I wasn’t making much headway with God’s plan I decided to take matters into my own hands. I said ‘Carter’,” she said, pointing to herself, “Go ask the experts, the non-spiritual experts,’ ” she continued. Standing up, wine bottle in hand, she walked over to the bookshelf.