The next morning, she awakens by the golden haze of the sunrise that seems to fill the room up, orange and vibrant enough that it looks like the sun is melting into lava.
Élan is already smiling lazily at her like the cat that ate the canary and Nanti, in all her pride, still feels the need to pretend that he may have won the battle but absolutely not the war; ultimately, she is the deciding factor so she wants to remind him of that.
He's all golden flecked eyes, golden freckled skin and softly waved hair, with an innocence to him that comes along with waking up from a deep slumber. Élan barely pays her theatrics any mind as she sits up to leave his warmth and pretend like she still wants that "divorce."
Nanti straightens her torn dress, (it has only gotten worse after they decided to move things to the bedroom,) and adjusts the bracelet at her wrist. She starts to stand up but her knees give out, behind her there's chuckling.
"Looks like you're still recovering." The sound of his voice is deep with sleep, the bass of it triggers her to stop pretending. Fine, this time, she'll surrender.
Nanti flops back on the bed and nuzzles herself up against him, his scent and warmth enveloping. Élan wraps his arms around her, and when he does, she lets out the longest sigh. Only it's not just any old sigh.
When she blows out her breath, she is one of those church ladies, dressed up in sparkling and constricting garments, from the embellished hat on the head to the sparkling high-heeled, open-toe, the ones she used to admire when she was much younger. With those handheld fans that don't do much and the central air conditioning that's only there as a prop, the windows open to bring in humid air. She's that lady that makes her way down the church's aisle, hips swaying in that elaborate skirt, the one that flares at the ankles, with the colors and the stripes, dressed to kill, dressed to live and die, the same fan that is more spectacular than any other lady's there.
She opens it for other's to admire. She waves it to make the face-framing coils of her hair dance in the air of the hot church. With her perfect makeup. She doesn't dare sweat. She doesn't dare breathe. She leads the way for her son and daughter to follow her steps, with a stray hand out for holding. She doesn't look back because she knows the path is clear and her kiddies trust her enough to know it too.
Rigid as bamboo sticks, impeccably-postured church lady. Always a missus, rarely ever breaks form but she finds their seats, she finds her release. Her clothes give a little when she bends at the knees, and then she plops down like a ballerina bracing her fall. And Mrs. Church Lady or Nanti or whoever- exhales.
Now, she can breathe.
"Satisfied?" Élan mumbles the question against her skin.
"Far beyond it."
.
She touches the kitchen. To Élan's surprise, she makes le poisson braisé with seafood rice, her incredible seafood stew, and fufu. A love meal if he'd ever seen one.
They eat together and when she's not looking, he's admiring that gold band with the huge Diamond on her pretty finger.
"I miss this." She says.
"I miss us." He replies.
Élan swears the life is coursing back through him with every bite. He's swimming against the blue current, furious and lethal, the sun dusting his skin with cinnamon. Almost home. Almost home. There's magic in this meal. Not even Mama Olayi's food can compare to this and she is one hell of a chef. The best if anyone asked.
"What did you put in this?" He jokes.
"My foot." She jokes back. They laugh.
It's been so long since he's heard her laugh but it fills the room.
.
Nanti is cleaning up the kitchen when Peridot prances in with the tale of what looks like a lizard poking out of her mouth.
"You're a natural hunter, aren't you?"
Peridot looks prideful, her eyes as green as the crystal as she trots away. Nanti chuckles at the little cat's ability to know when her "mother" needs privacy.
She hears the shower running from the bedroom, so it's only natural that her thoughts go back to last night. Such fun. Much deserved. She can almost feel the weight of Élan on top of her, the texture of his skin against her lips, his gaze dazed and dreamy. She's surprised there isn't a dent on the couch with how vigorously they were going at it. Her teeth tuck in her bottom lip.
"Mmm."
Today is no more than the morning after, but Nanti feels this assured peace. Like everything will be okay after all.
.
Élan's heart skips several beats when he looks at the clock and it's 2:00am. In his dream he is swimming again, this time with Nanti, all the way back home.
The coast is clear, at least on his side, but surrounding Nanti's entire body are fish.
So many fish.
YOU ARE READING
MAD BLACK WOMAN
Romancein which she must deal with her husband's infidelity and the love she still has left for him. in which he must find the broken pieces of the love that fell apart.
