It's Complicated 2: Scorned by Erika Renee Land

Author:Erika Renee Land [Land, Erika Renee]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Gay & Lesbian, Urban, Gay, Fiction, United States, African American, Genre Fiction, Lesbian, Literature & Fiction
Amazon: B00QU0KAQS
Publisher: Ezarie Publishing LLC
Published: 2014-12-09T05:00:00+00:00

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May 2, 2011

I became invested in another human being outside of my daughter. Mrs. Spady, though my boss, was very mother-like to me. It’s hard to explain but she helped me mature into being an independent woman. She has this sweet sternness to her, a confidence that lets you know she is not about games. After a year of us working together, Mrs. Spady started referring to me as her daughter. It always made me smile because she is the closest thing I’ve had to a mother. She never referred to any of her other employees this way. But I didn’t mind. She always would say I reminded her of a great part of her life. I never figured out what that meant, but I didn’t pry. Mrs. Spady was secretive and would shut the conversation down if you pried too much. It was a struggle not to cross the line of acting like she was mother. I began to love her as if she was my mom, but at the end of the day, I am hired help. She always talked to me about love and forgiveness. On a daily basis, she would give me an anecdote or analogy of how things come full circle in ways you least expect.

I’m pissed because numerous times, I asked her to use the path in the back yard instead of the treadmill but she refused. Stubbornness has gotten the best of her.

I can’t take looking at her in the hospital bed, so I spend most the time gazing out the window.

Her voice startles me, “Nadia, I have been in mourning. My heart was broken twice in two years, I loved them both.” I jump up and move next to the hospital bed. She has not spoken the whole time I’ve been here. I guess she felt my presence.

Mrs. Spady says, “Nadia, it’s time but I have to . . . I’m tired . . . I have to tell you . . .,” she pauses to catch her breath. When she starts speaking again her voice is groggy. I try to coax her into not talking, but she shushes me. The heart monitor slows. I begin to cry hysterically.

Through gasps of air Mrs. Spady says, “Nadia don’t be mad . . . go get your girl if you feel she is the one . . . I can tell you now, they aren’t gonna make it.”

What are you talking about?

“The girls . . . on TV . . . they aren’t gonna make it.”

I ask her to stop talking and focus on staying with me. She squeezes my hand and says, “Nadia don’t be mad, forgive in your heart please,” then a tear falls from her eye, “I adopted you for Naida . . .”

“Naida . . . who is Naida . . . Mrs. Spady?”

“Naida Marie always loved you.” Then she fades away.

Whom was she talking about?

I slide to the floor and begin to fall apart. Jonathan comes over and picks me up.

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