A Fistful of Honey Read online

  A FISTFUL OF HONEY

  A novel

  Malena Crawford

  A FISTFUL OF HONEY

  Text copyright © 2016 by Malena Crawford

  Illustrations copyright © 2016 by Bookfly Designs

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof whatsoever.

  Visit our website at MalenaCrawford.com

  ISBN: 978-0-9966384-04

  For my daughter, Adara. May I live on in you as the divine beauty and joy that you are.

  It took many years of vomiting up all the filth

  I’d been taught about myself,

  and half-believed,

  before I was able to walk on the earth

  as though I had a right

  to be here.

  — James Baldwin

  CONTENTS

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ONE

  “Mommy, you have to get up now,” the small voice chirped from the side of the bed. “Mom…mom… Mother! Today is my field trip, remember? We can’t be late or they’ll leave me!”

  Alena Ford opened her eyes and saw her 8-year-old daughter Maya standing next to the bed, hands on hips, gray-green eyes shining brightly, fully dressed in a purple shirt and a red pleated skirt. She looks so much like Gabe, she thought, noting the stark contrast of her daughter’s complexion against her own. Her café au lait skin color barely showed any trace of Alena’s black blood.

  “Mom, can you make waffles? I want waffles.”

  “Okay, okay, baby, I hear you. Good morning.” Her voice was coarse from sleep. She glanced at the clock that read 7:11 AM. She had less than an hour to feed Maya, get ready for work, drop her at school and fight Manhattan’s Friday morning rush hour traffic. She longed for both the nanny and the maid she’d had to let go.

  “Shit,” she said absentmindedly, loud enough for Maya to hear. “How did I miss the alarm?”

  “That’s not a nice word, Mom.”

  “I know, honey, I’m sorry.”

  “Mom, I want waffles.”

  “I heard you, Maya. Run down to the kitchen and turn on the TV for Mommy, okay? I’ll be right down… promise. And while you’re at it, go find your sneakers.”

  Alena slid on her robe and headed to the kitchen. Maya sat waiting in the brightly lit room, Alena’s favorite space in her penthouse. Its sunshine colored walls displayed breathtaking oil paintings and the scent of lemon filled the air. Maya had not only turned on the flat screen (with the mute button on just how Mom liked it), she’d also dragged out the box of frozen waffles, butter, and powdered sugar along with a glass for her milk and a plate.

  “You sure are Mommy’s helper, Maya. You’re getting to be such a big girl.” Alena patted her head.

  “Mom I’m not a baby, I’m eight now,” Maya said with a roll of her eyes.

  Alena slid the waffles into the toaster slots and the smell of buttermilk now filled the room. She poured a cup of coffee, glanced at the television, and hit the sound button as a newscast came on.

  “There is growing outrage this morning after Keyshawn Arnold, an unarmed African American teenager, was shot and killed by police in the Brooklyn neighborhood of Crown Heights last night. There are conflicting reports about what led up to the shooting. Investigators reported that at 8:00 PM Thursday night, the officer, who has not been identified, encountered Arnold and another man outside of an apartment complex. There was a struggle and one of the boys brandished what the officer believed was a gun. Investigators say no weapon was found. We will have further information as it becomes available.”

  Maybe if they stopped reinforcing their own stereotypes, pulled their damn pants up, and acted like they had some common sense they wouldn’t get themselves killed, Alena thought.

  The waffles popped up and Alena whisked them onto a plate for Maya who dug in with vigor.

  “I’ll be upstairs getting ready, okay? You need anything, babe?”

  “I’m fine, Mom. Just hurry pleeez,” Maya said between bites.

  Thank goodness this is her last week of school, Alena thought as she smiled and trudged up to her bathroom. A shiver of unease stopped her short at the top step. Then strangely, the patch of skin between her eyes began to twitch and an odd vibration webbed out through her nostrils until she perceived an unmistakable scent. It was an odor she hadn’t smelled since she was a girl, but her body instantly jolted in response and her stomach knotted in pain. Not now. She willed herself not to panic. Please. Not after all these years.

  When she’d reached the bathroom, she tried to calm down. Alena balled her hands into small fists, digging her nails into her palms. The scent, the pain, it was unmistakable. They were the tell-tale signs of what she had worked so hard to overcome—and the timing could not have been worse. Alena held herself and took long deep breaths until her heart rate slowed again. It wasn’t real then and it isn’t real now. She leaned hard on the cool marble counter, her forearms resting on the sink. She put the smell and the feeling out of her mind.

  Standing in front of the mirror waiting for the water to warm, Alena stared back at her naked reflection, studying it. She couldn’t help but think that while she “still had it” when it came to her looks, lately she felt so much older than her soon to be thirty-three years of age. Her cocoa skin glowed under the small light, her eyes red from a night of crying. By most accounts she was a beautiful woman. Her smooth complexion was the perfect canvas for her high cheekbones, delicate nose and full lips. Her narrow waist gave way to bountiful round hips and strong, shapely legs. With her sweet-as-honey sashay, and graceful posture she looked far taller than her 5’5” frame. Alena’s presence was striking, belying the frail terrified girl within. In the office, she wore her crown of thick black curls straightened and in a tight, neat, bun at the nape of her neck. This early morning however, her tousled hair was free and framed her face like a lion’s mane.

  Steam started to fill the room. The smell of decay intensified and rushed into her nostrils. She bent over the grand marble sink to splash it away with water, and then patted it dry with a towel. Alena turned to place it back on the rod when suddenly the shadow of something, or someone, caught her eye in the mirror… there… behind her. She gasped and whirled around, almost losing her balance, her dainty fists drawn up and ready to strike as if she would know how to use them.

  Though there was no one behind her, still a shiver snaked up her spine and her heart pounded wildly. Despite the piping hot water, the temperature seemed to have dropped by at least ten degrees. Alena flipped on the overhead bathroom light and looked anxiously around the room. She looked into the custom claw-foot soaking tub, and then into the vast walk-in closet filled with rows of exotic shoes and tailored designer dresses. She ran back down the stairs. No hint of an intruder—or the visions. Maya was safe and sound, eating happily. She then peered through the penthouse’s floor-to-ceiling window at the panoramic view of New York City. Everything was just as it should be. Satisfied, she headed up the stairs.

  Maybe I’m so tire
d I’m hallucinating, she reasoned, taking a final careful look around the bathroom.

  Alena stepped into the shower and let the hot spray of water rinse away the remnants of the sleepless night before. As it pounded the back of her neck, she whispered a prayer.

  “Please God, help me to forgive,” she begged. But no sooner were the words out of her mouth than she said through gritted teeth, “I hate him. I… hate… every… part… of him.” In that moment Gabriel, her soon to be ex-husband and her father were one in the same. Why couldn’t she just let it go? Alena then doubled over as sobs wracked her body, her salty tears mixing with the water cascading from the shower. She closed her eyes and washed them away.

  A few minutes later she turned off the faucet, dried her body, and dressed. It was time to wear her happy face and put on her designer armor. She didn’t care that the armor was made out of fear and sadness, it had gotten Alena through every single morning for the last twelve years. As she ran downstairs Maya’s voice greeted her, jolting her out of her thoughts.

  “Mom! It is time to go! Daddy never does this. If Dad were here he would…”

  “Well, your dad isn’t here now. Is he?” Alena hissed. “Watch your mouth, little girl and go put your sneakers on like I told you!” Maya’s stunned little face dimmed with sadness and she hung her head.

  “I’m… I’m sorry, Maya Bear. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

  It was too late. She felt her daughter’s heart sink along with her own. Tears of shame flooded her eyes and she turned away from Maya.

  “Go on and get your shoes, honey. You’ll make the bus, I promise.”

  With Maya out of view, Alena buried her face in her hands. “Pull it together, dammit!” she chided herself as she took a deep purifying breath and tried to hang on to the little faith she had left.

  TWO

  Something strange was in the air and Alena could feel it as soon as she walked through the wrought iron doors of Kavitz & Kavitz. Perhaps it was in the way the other attorneys averted their eyes as she passed.

  “Alena.” The voice behind her made her stomach churn with dread. It was Ari Kavitz, the head partner of the firm. His stern face was flushed and his body was rigid with tension.

  “Good morning. So good of you to join us,” he said, glancing at his watch. “We need those Harrison files ASAP. Oh and please stop by my office, we need to have a chat.” He then turned on the heels of his Italian leather shoes and walked back to his office.

  Alena hurried to her desk, sat down and took a deep breath. On the other side of the door she could hear the good old boys laughing at jokes she was never in on, as they rehashed details of golfing trips she was never invited to attend. They never told her she wasn’t welcome or that she wasn’t an equal. But it was clear in the way their carefree banter stopped whenever she entered the room, and the way their gaze slid over her hips and between her breasts, as if she was only an exotic dark body and not a powerhouse attorney at the firm.

  Alena had made a career, a great career, by not just putting out fires but by preventing them. She had climbed the corporate ladder in a mere three years in a world that had traditionally been reserved for men, specifically white men. Her position as an associate attorney in a corporate law firm had given her a hard-won respect, almost. Being the sole black woman in that whitewashed world had pushed her moral compass in difficult directions. It made her close her eyes to the unjust and swallow her pride and identity in exchange for the success the title of “partner” would afford her. But that title never came.

  There had been instead sexual innuendos, and even a few brazen suggestions by a lead attorney that if she were to spend a few late nights with him she’d never have to worry about her position, or money, again. She balked at their advances. If that’s what it took to reach the pinnacle, she wanted nothing to do with it. Besides having Gabriel’s money already, the mere thought of having to sleep with someone to make partner made her want to vomit. Still, she kept quiet and never once let them see anything but her armor.

  The foreboding was palpable as she hurried down the hall to Mr. Kavitz’s sprawling window office. She smoothed her hands over her tailored Alexander McQueen suit and then with a sigh, Alena closed her eyes and rapped on the large oak door.

  “Mr. Kavitz?”

  “Come in,” he yelled. When she walked in he pointed to the sofa. “Sit.”

  His eyes followed Alena from the door to the sofa. She tried not to let her discomfort show but fidgeting hands betrayed her. Kavitz licked his thin pink lips and cleared his throat.

  “Thank you for coming by. Can I offer you a bottle of water?”

  “No thank you, I’m fine.”

  “So Alena, I’ve called you in here because I’ve noticed you’ve been a little… distracted.” His steepled fingers pointed in her direction.

  Alena furrowed her brows. “Well, I guess I am having a bit of rough go with the Eritrea account but like you said yourself, there’s a learning curve, sir.”

  “I think you need to take some time off.”

  “That’s very considerate of you, Mr. Kavitz, but really, I’m fine. It’s true I have quite a bit on my plate but I don’t need—”

  “Look, I’ll be frank with you, Alena,” Kavitz interrupted. “I’m not asking. I’m sorry. As you know, we lost quite a few accounts, namely Edwinburg, which was yours. We have to start making some… cuts.”

  “Cuts? Is this about last week?”

  “What?”

  “Thursday, Ari, you know exactly what I mean. When I wouldn’t leave the bar with you?”

  A red flush crept over Kavitz’ face. He lowered his eyes and stared at his hands. His fingers were busy fumbling with a slim gold pen, working off its cap and then returning it repeatedly.

  “Alena, you’d be wise to watch your words. We’re asking you to resign.”

  “Resign?” Alena could not believe the words that had just barreled from his mouth. Rising indignation burned pins and needles into her face. “I’ve made millions for this firm, Ari. I’m one of the best attorneys here and you know it! I can’t believe you would take it this far. Are you serious?”

  “Quite serious, Alena. We’re asking you to resign,” he repeated.

  “Fine!” she yelled, rising to her feet. In her fury she couldn’t manage any other response.

  “We wish you all the best in your future endeavors, Ms. Ford.”

  “It’s Mrs. Ford.”

  She stood up and charged out of the office, slamming the door behind her, then stormed past an audience of gawking colleagues.

  “What the hell are you looking at?” She yelled, rushing into her office. She snatched her purse off the chair, slung it over her shoulder, and practically ran out of the building. Hiding teary eyes behind oversized sunglasses, Alena stepped outside into the hot June morning. Her high heels were cracking against the pavement at a frantic pace, moving so fast that her thighs burned--until suddenly it occurred to her that she had nowhere to go.

  “What in the hell am I doing here?” she screamed in the middle of 33rd Street, standing still. Amid a human current of shoving commuters and aimless tourists coursing around her, Alena was unraveling.

  She should call Nadia from work, she thought, the secretary at Kavitz and only semblance of a friend she had left in the city. No, of course not. Nadia was just as fake as the rest of them, and she probably knew all of this was going down without bothering to let her know. Maybe she would call Ma. No, she hadn’t talked to Ma since Maya was born when she told her how badly she and the rest of their “low country backward” family embarrassed her. Maybe she would call her sister Agatha. No, she’d told Aggie the same thing before she slammed down the phone and vowed never to need any of them again.

  She’d left them all behind, just like she left behind the years they spent eating mayonnaise sandwiches and hopping between homeless shelters and motels back in Maryland. Michael. No, Mike was married now and had a family. He didn’t have time to listen h
er troubles. But she had to talk to someone. There was no one else. She dialed Michael’s number.

  “Hello?” Michael answered on the third ring.

  She tried to calm herself.

  “Hey, Mike. It’s Alena.”

  “Hey, Leen! Long time no hear. What’s up with you?”

  “I, I really need to talk. I’m sorry for calling, I just…I don’t have anyone else to go to. Can you meet me at my apartment?”

  He paused for a few moments, long enough for Alena to fret that she had done the wrong thing after all.

  “I’ve got a client in a few.” he said finally. “I can swing by around six or seven. Is that cool?”

  “Yeah, that would be cool. Very cool. Thank you.”

  “Okay, text me your address?”

  “All right. Thanks Mike, really.”

  “See ya soon.”

  The last time Alena had spoken to Michael was two years ago to wish him a very quick and guarded Happy Birthday. She had not wanted to linger on the phone any longer than she needed to. In fifteen years of friendship they had only ventured past its boundaries once, with a kiss, yet never consummated the love she was sure they both felt. Still, at his wife Lola’s request, Michael told her he needed to taper off the phone calls they’d both delighted in. It was a choice Alena respected since she knew Michael prided himself on his principles, but she couldn’t help the sore spot it had rendered in her heart.

  At 6:30 that evening the doorbell chimed through Alena’s apartment. Michael, her first love and best friend had arrived. She had arranged for Maya to stay a few hours with Ms. Duluth, the older woman Alena hired from time to time to babysit after the nanny was gone. She had ordered takeout from Zephyr and the aroma of roasted pork and vegetables clung to the walls and filled the air.

  Alena caught her breath and opened the door to Michael, who was casually dressed in a threadbare white T-shirt and jeans. He was a highly sought after accountant turned personal trainer, and it was evident in his firmly muscled, 6’4” frame. The sight of him made Alena’s heavy heart soar.