Page 95 of Zimyra

Capri drops her fork in the bowl and says, “Myra, you never fail at anything.”

“Well, I did this time, and it’s okay, Capri. I’ll take the test again, and everything will be fine.”

Capri picks up her fork again and stirs her food, but she doesn’t eat. She’s thinking. I know my friend and she knows me. She knows I’m not fine. After a few of the longest seconds that have ever passed between us, she says, “I’m worried about you, Myra.”

“Capri, I’m—”

“No, wait. Just listen to me for a minute. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal, and I know it’s a coping mechanism for you to just brush it off, but that’s not going to work this time. You were physically assaulted and whether you see it or not, it’s affecting your life.”

“Okay, so, what if it is? What am I supposed to do? Just stop living? I have to keep going. If I let that single moment define me, then this man wins. I’m not about to let that happen.”

I blink back tears and take a deep breath, keeping my emotions somewhat in check.

She says, “You shouldn’t give up, but you should take some time to yourself to work through this?”

“No, I haven’t. I felt like working would help me get over this—this sick feeling of being a victim. It’s not something I would wish on my worst enemy, Capri,” I say, feeling a tear roll down my cheek.

“I know,” Capri says, getting up to slide her chair closer to mine. She puts her arm around me and says, “It’s never good to keep stuff like this inside. Myra, you can always talk to me.”

“I know,” I say, sniffling. I dab my eyes with a napkin and say, “I tried to take the test, and every single time I looked down to write an answer, I relived the attack. Every time I go to work, I think about it.”

“Then why do you go?”

“Because I need to work. I have to pay bills.”

“I mean, doesn’t the company know what happened?”

“Yes. They suggested I take time off, but—”

“Then it’s settled. You’re off the rest of the week and maybe even next week, too. You shouldn’t have to go there and suffer. You have to take care of yourself, Myra, without waiting for someone to do it for you. And you better believe these companies will have you work yourself into a mental institution as long as you’re making money for them. So, starting now—no more. We gon’ take time for ourselves, study, and be ready for this test.”

I offer a small smile. She’s right, of course, but something in me doesn’t want to go that far.

CHAPTER 27

I shut off the whip, hop out, and take in the enormity of Zavier’s home after taking a case of beer from the backseat. The place is expansive, reminding me of my home back in Bridgeport. The deep green grass speaks to its elegance. The smell of meat and charcoal lures me to the side fence. The gate has been left open for guests.

Judging from all the cars parked out front, He has quite a few.

When I pulled up, there were at least fifteen cars in the driveway and now, walking into the backyard, I can hear people laughing and carrying on. Then my eyes catch sight of the lake. It’s nothing short of magnificent. Living in a community this upscale and having a lakefront property is a flex. Zavier must be doing well for himself.

I walk further back, getting a closer look. The place is already peaceful and serene. Add good food and family, and this is paradise. Adding Zimyra St. Claire would make it heaven.

I haven’t seen or spoken to her since Sunday morning when I left her house. That would make one full week of not being in her presence or hearing from her. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. I tried many times. I went by her house with flowers on Tuesday to congratulate her after her test. There wasn’t an answer. I tried again on Wednesday. Nothing. She hasn’t been to work all week either. I checked with Peter who confirmed that Zimyra put in a leave of absence request for two weeks – this past week and next week. They’ve sent a fill-in for her. I wonder if she ever plans on coming back.

I can’t say where her mind is right now because I haven’t had a chance to talk to her at all. Hopefully, I’ll get a chance to do that today, but I didn’t see her car parked out front so I don’t even know if she’s here. Surely she wouldn’t miss a family cookout, would she?

“Welcome to my home,” Zavier says, walking over to greet me.

“Thanks, man.” I slap hands with him and glance around, hoping to see Zimyra out here, but I don’t.

“You didn’t have trouble finding the place, did you?”

“No, not at all. I brought some beer.”

“Oh, thanks, man. You can put it over there by the cooler.”

I walk with him to that section to see the people sitting under the umbrella tables. Zander is on the grill. I know because when he turns around and sees me, he glares. It’s funny how identical they are, yet I can tell them apart by their demeanor.

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