When the Petals Fall

6:7

I

Due Benevolence

Although the throbbing pains had become numb now, Azalea still finds it hard to sit comfortably on the pillow-top vanity stool. She strategically shifts her weight while slowly stroking the iron brush through her damp hair. What normally took over thirty minutes to get her thick, but soft hair under control, the moisture from her sweaty scalp ironically made the manageable strands submit in minutes. She pitifully looks at the reflection in the mirror, noticing the small trickle of blood oozing from the slit above her left eye. A flood of sadness comes over her, but her sadness is mostly felt for Maxwell. He was not the same man she was acquainted to at the beginning of their marital bliss.

The shine of her knight’s amour had finally lost its luster. The downpour of the rain came down intensely as if it too could feel the affect of her new revelation. The atmosphere turns deeper into its own depression. The digital clock on the nightstand read a bright, florescent green: 11:30 PM. It is quite late in comparison to her normal bedtime appointment of 9 P.M. Her body is obviously reluctant to take its rest. Her energy had been stirred up so sleep is the last thing on her mind. The long body in black silk boxers, which is stretched out on the bed, suddenly moves. But he remains asleep. His snoring shouts at her, loudly announcing the entrance of a deeper point of rest. He was unaware of or unconcerned with her moment of pity. As she continues her procedures of nighttime preparation the figure on the bed soon wakes up.

So you just gonna sit there, picking at your hair all night? Come to bed, my feet are getting cold! She looks back at him. Although his abrupt request causes her to fearfully tremble, she is a greatly flattered. Despite of his selfish reasons, she appreciates his need for her at that moment. She finally pulls her hair back into a tight ponytail and places the brush on the dresser. While reaching for the wall-mounted lamp, she grabs her left side. Her right lower rib reminds her of the blow it had taken earlier at dinnertime. He didn’t have to get that mad...over some burnt chicken and rice! She carefully walks over towards the bed, trying hard not to anger him with her obvious proof of pain. The late night moon gives the room an untimely romantic softness, enhancing the shape of Azalea’s body through the pink, translucent nightgown. Maxwell, now with anticipation, waits as his petite spouse walks to him. Her beauty seems flawless, looking the same way she did when he first met her. But he had to admit that things in their marriage had slightly changed. She didn’t seem fun anymore. There was still intimacy left, but she wasn’t spontaneous and willing as she was in the beginning of the marriage. However, she does know how to succumb to his desires, he boasts. I need you girl! Time is wasting away and I need my rest. His anticipation was at its peak now. Yet his readiness was soon cut short as Azalea kneels down at the bedside. His response was significantly primped lips. He quietly sustains his forced patience as she rests her head upon clasped hands. A strong urge to pull her up and interrupt her quietness crosses his mind, but he knew better than to bother her moment with the Lord. So he just watches and waits for at least three minutes before finally lying back onto the bed. Soon Azalea rises from her moment of supplication and slowly climbs into bed. With a tender rubbing on top his head, she assures him of his expected nightcap. Her hand shivers as it grazes the small waves of hair. Do you even have room for me in here?" She slowly wiggles between the layers of cover. A burgundy quilt, a matching burgundy top sheet, and cream cotton under sheet were the perfect ensemble from a mail order catalog. He sneers and reluctantly moves over, not giving her much room. She maneuvers her body snugly into the small pocket and exhales. To her surprise, he offers her a gentle caress her from behind before his initial rocking motion. Now watch how he messes up my hair, right after I took all that time to straighten it out! After a sigh of aggravation, she turns to look into the eyes of her anxious companion. You finally got done with all of that hair? You know I’ve been waiting on you. He lifts up the covers and eyes her from the neck to her mid section, licking his lips at the same time. She is flattered yet annoyed. This was his only way of romantic foreplay. His deep panting strangely reminds her of the pornography she’d sneak and watch as a child- at her best friend’s house of course. Her slight inner laugh causes the moment to be lightened as she submissively lay in the bed. But Maxwell’s patience had finally come to an end. He pulls Azalea’s tiny body closer to him, salivating, panting heavily like a wild, untamed animal. He plants a hard overly moist kiss on her mouth. She tries to hold back the moans of pain, but ends up expelling a loud, muffled groan. Oh you like that? His ego mistakes her lamentation for an emblem of passion. He resumes his trail of kisses, working his way from her neck to her chest. Azalea decides to adjure her efforts of insinuations and places her focus on something else. If she takes her mind off the activity at hand, it would conclude impressionably fast, she figures. That’s neat how they formed rainbow shapes! She is mesmerized by the ten-year-old accidental patterns made in the stucco on the bedroom ceiling. I think it’s time for a new color in here, but I know Max, will not lift a finger...not when it comes to house work anyway! How much longer Lord? Just as her thoughts conclude, his body collapses down on top of her. A few moments later he slowly rolls onto his side of the bed. The activity had finally come to an exhausting end. Azalea looks over at the back of her husband’s head. She longed for him to turn back over to her, touch her, kiss her, and even caress her once more. Her mind fantasizes about the sensual kisses to her forehead that he used to give. But that was only for the first few months of their marriage. His romantic treatment has long gone. His back remains turned towards her. The only response he gave was a spew of loud snores, confirming that he had gone back to sleep.

The early morning sun demands respect by stabbing through the mini blinds strong and hard. The bedroom shows no memory of last night’s event. Maxwell had even gotten out of bed way before Azalea, as usual. And even more usual, he was performing his morning ritual with the bathroom mirror. The running water wakes her up, causing her to finally roll out of bed and walk towards the master bathroom. Although she feels slightly sore from the previous evening’s little love spat, the limping had ceased. She feels a sense of pride to be able to go to work and deceive her co-workers. But what about that ugly slit? Would the nosy co-workers notice the ugly slit above her eye? I’ll just get some Mary Kay to fix this thing right on up! She lightly touches the tight swollen mark. As she walks towards the she is able catch Maxwell playfully rubbing his boyish mustache, enjoying his image in the mirror. He poses in a few positions over the porcelain pedestal sink. She is captivated from the doorway, gazing at her good-looking husband. She had considered it to be a true blessing to be married at the age of twenty four, and to one of the richest black men in Abechabottum. They were considered pillars of the quaint community. He is the last man born into the Lexis Investment Empire, until his son comes along. Azalea was a withered wall flower before merging with her Lexis heir. So a lot of people only knew her only because of him. Mrs. Azalea Lexis, Mrs. Maxwell Lexis, Mr and Mrs. Maxwell Lexis. She had played with her new name every since their first telephone conversation. Azalea is proudly entertained by his meticulous procedures: after his usual thirty minute shower he allows the air to dry the glistening water from his body, a baby oil rub on his precisely trimmed beard, and a full body rub-down of Palmer’s cocoa butter lotion. And let’s not forget the fingernails. The fingernails had been clearly glossed and shined, courtesy of Natasha’s Nail Salon; an appointment every week. Sometimes he would even get Azalea to touch an occasional dull with the help of Sally Henson’s hard as nails clear nail enamel. No one could have told her that she, the class bookworm, would end up with Mr. Popular, slash the school president, slash Mr. Most Likely to Succeed, slash one of the richest seniors at Reagland High. His prestige drew swarms of students in his surrounding at all times. Both male and female was attentive to his strong charisma. And he always made an effort to smile and speak to everyone he came in contact with. His charming, friendly demeanor always granted him the trust and reliance he needed to get the things he wanted. With no mistake, Maxwell Lexis would be considered a ladies’ man, a man’s man The Man! As her thoughts roam, Azalea feels the chills as they rush up and down her spine. Relaxing against the right side of the shutter like double doors, she remembers the first time he spoke to her. It was in Mr. Hatcherd’s Biology class. It happened third period. Presumptions of his acknowledgement almost overshadowed her. She thought his aim was towards her personally, but she soon realized that he spoke to all the girls the same way. It would start with a slow and contemplated smile and right when he receives the expected response, he’d reward his suitors with a slow licking of his lips. Then, like clock work, he would utter his famous catch phrase, ‘If you were an exotic flower what would your name be?’ And that was his adhesive. Once those words hit their ears, the females would instantly fall under his spell. It was in his personal trait to make sure that every female in school knew he existed and that he was able to treat them very well at all costs. He would seldom be seen riding a different girl in his 1986 Bonneville. But nevertheless, Azalea was still grateful that Maxwell Lexis spoke to her. It was way better than being ignored. Being noticed by one of the best looking boys at Reagland High School made her feel like the best looking girl at Reagland High School. With his tall figure reaching six feet with an additional three inches, milk chocolaty skin, long eyelashes, and matching thick eyebrows, no one could ignore the presence of Maxwell Lexis. Every girl wanted to be with him and a substantial number of boys wanted to be like him. Even some of the teachers would get caught sneaking an admiring eye his way. His repertoire not only included the place of the student body president, but he was also captain of the tennis team, and a record breaking pitcher on the baseball team. Along with the Investment Firms, his father owned a portion of Abechabottum’s major banks and hotels, which is how he and his two sisters received the notable reputation of being the richest black students in the Abechabottum school system. And of course in addition to those traits of attraction, he never failed to captivate his audience with that charming smile. Each smile revealed perfectly clean teeth. Most of the time that dimpled, boyish grin would be aimed towards someone else. But one isolated day in November, his smile aimed directly at Azalea Milton. All through her days of high school, she made it a routine to daydream about Maxwell Alonzo Lexis. She discovered his full name after sneaking a peak from Mr. Hatcherd’s roster. She felt very nervous that day when she stood alone at the desk while everyone else was at lunch. Her daydreams easily carried her pass graduation. It was bitter sweet when they saw each other one final time on graduation day; until their brief reunion, two years later, at Charlie’s grocery store. As soon as she spotted him at the Lay’s snack stand, her nerves suggested to run out of the store before being caught in her tank top and cut off Levi’s. But her actions responded a minute too late.

Hey, where are you rushing off to? A pleasant hello would be nice. He spoke with his familiar deep tone. And her mind became overwhelmed once again- just from him speaking to her. Before she knew it her body had turned around and walked back to the counter, meeting him face to face. Excuse me? She said, with a nervous smile. Are you in a hurry? The least you could say was ‘hey’ or ‘how ya doing. Maxwell stood at the counter and freely opened a large bag of ranch Doritos. Well, I was on my way out; I really didn’t notice you standing there. She lied. He was not convinced or at least he didn’t want to be convinced that another person, a female at that, had not noticed him. So, uhh...you wanted something, because I gotta go. She rebukes. She prayed that her abruptness didn’t alarm him. But, he was not even bothered by her quick and dispassionate response. He was actually challenged. It was a refreshing exercise to test his magnetism to the females. Evidentially he passed the test. Before their short conversation had ended, they had exchanged telephone numbers. And only six months and a few dinner dates later, he proposed to her. Whoa! Girl you scared me, standing in that door like that! Don’t you know that it is rude to stare? You should say something before entering in a room! The tapping of her feet breaks his intense ritual. Good morning to you too, gorgeous. She quickly counteracts his rebuke. This thing needs tightening. She digresses, looking down at the steel panel in the doorway. A screw was missing, causing the panel to slightly lift up. She then playfully waltzes over to him and caresses him from behind. He was only wearing his navy blue, wrinkle-free Dockers, openly advertising his chiseled chest. Moderate amounts of hair were in various places of the brown backdrop. Azalea strokes his chest softly, attempting to get a better chance of acceptance. It was an awkward, almost uncomfortable position as she wraps her slim, dainty arms around his tall structured body from behind. So are you going to fix it? It doesn’t seem like we’ve been here only two years. There are a lot of things that need fixing around here. And? I’m not a maintenance man. Call someone to check it out. Is that the first thing you noticed when you finally decided to get out of bed? His attempt of a greeting was weak as he continues to admire his reflection in the mirror. After carefully rubbing cocoa butter on his face, he lightly splashes a cupped hand full of Burberry cologne on his neck, arms, and finally smoothing the remains into available places on his chest. Azalea clutches him closer, disregarding his suggestion. It was the one time that she was in the mood for any type of romance. To stand there watching him pamper himself began to ignite feelings in her that she did not want to ignore. She had the urge to pull him back into the bedroom and demonstrate HER rendition of romance. Only this time she would be in control. But her plans and grip was suddenly broken as he forces his way out of her clutch. He abruptly marches out of the bathroom leaving her disappointedly alone at the porcelain pedestal sink.

After a refreshing shower, Azalea essentially feels rejuvenated. All is well. So she thought. She had totally forgiven Maxwell for his cruel exit. But her feelings of soundness suddenly began to change as she walks back into the bedroom. Maxwell was now sitting on the edge of the bed, talking on the telephone, engaged in what seems to be deep and private conversation. He speaks, actually whispers into receiver like a secret service agent. Azalea stands in the doorway quietly in awe and confusion. Her heart rate increases, warning her that something was definitely wrong. It was 6:45 A.M., who could he be talking to this early in the morning? What was all the whispering about?

Maxwell notices her. At his failed attempt to be private, he decides to hang the phone up. Azalea’s anger rekindles intensely. She is frozen in her steps, until he walks out of the room. By now he was fully dressed and was ready to leave for the office. Azalea sits at the foot of their bed, trying to replay the morning in her head. How dare he pretend like nothing just happened! How could he not explain to me what just happened? I guess he wants me to bring it up first! Does he expect for me to bring it up first? Well, guess what Mr. Lexis, this time I’m not going to bring it up first. I’m gonna let you dig your own whole! I am tired of your childish ways! She deeply contemplates, allowing her mind to vamp out thoughts debates, and rebuttals. I know one thing, his craziness will not last long. Lord, I need you to help me on this one, because I am about to go crazy myself! Lord, you know that this is not the first time that he has done this. He’s always whispering on that phone! And I know he wasn’t whispering to no man! Who was he talking to? It had to be a woman on that phone, it better not be a woman on that phone! Who was the woman on the other end of that phone? I know If I ask him, he’s gonna lie and I don’t have an appetite for his lying this morning. The screeching of Maxwell’s tires snaps her out of the deep meditation. He had left for work without her once again. She wanted to cry but the tears would not come out. It’s a good thing Iris called me last night. If it wasn’t for her wanting to take me to breakfast this morning, I probably wouldn’t have a way to work! Did he forget that mechanic is supposed to change the brakes on today? No, he didn’t forget. He just wanted to be meant. He didn’t even ask if I needed a ride. Lord, what am I gonna do with that man?

Her remedy for the miserable morning was the selection of her brand new, rust colored, two-piece pantsuit and a pair of leather mules. She had bought the mules a couple of weeks ago. The shopping spree was Iris’s antidote after a tongue lashing from Maxwell. She slips her left foot in right on time. Iris honks her horn loud from the drive way. Without hesitation, Azalea rushes to the front door. After a few last minute touch ups of her make-up, she was trotting down the long, curving, cobblestone sidewalk. She tries hard to camouflage any signs of distress. But it did not work. Iris was able to tug at her mask even from the car. What’s the matter with you girl? It is seven o’clock in the morning, thirty degrees...and you’re wearing shades! The sun is hardly shining, the day’s just beginning...girl, you already look worn out! You ready to go? Azalea ignores her snide remarks.

As the bronze ‘83 Impala cruises through the crowded Monday morning traffic, the inside of the car was silent for at least ten minutes. Iris finally spoke, not able to hold in the curiosity any longer Okay Azalea, what is really going on? We’ve known each other since the third grade. I know you better than anyone. I know when something’s wrong. So spit it out girl! Iris takes her eyes off the road for a brief moment to emphasize her serious plea. Azalea then takes off her Dior sunglasses. I think he’s cheating on me! What? Oh Azalea, what happened? Iris exclaims, noticing the make-up covered bruise. Azalea you know this has got to stop. You didn’t confront him, did you? Tell me that you didn’t confront that man. You know how crazy he is. I told you the next time he trip like that to call me. Let me be there with you...let somebody be there. Call somebody so you won’t be alone with that fool when he gets that mad! Iris, he’s not a fool! And I did not confront him. He was mad because I burnt up his dinner, one of his favorite meals. He said that he was really looking forward to gobbling down a big helping of it. He loves my Chicken and Rice...it’s his favorite...and I burnt it. He was so mad. I shouldn’t have burned his food. I shouldn’t have made him mad! She let the tears flow. I did not mean to burn it, but I didn’t think it tasted that bad. He could have just scrape the dark portions of the skin...but then he said that it’ll still taste burnt. I did not mean to burn it Iris. Maybe God is punishing me for something. I don’t know. I guess I gotta pray a little harder."

Iris was reluctant to vent out any further reprimands towards Maxwell. She was not surprised at Azalea’s quick defense of a man who has constantly been violent to her. Azalea was known for being a social martyr. No matter how much she was offended, she didn’t want to offend someone else by her own offense. It was her way of getting people to like her. Nonetheless, just as Azalea felt devoted in her relationship to her husband, Iris shared that same devotion to Azalea. She was always there for her. For over fifteen years she has supported and at the right time defended Azalea. She was not willing to end that pattern now. She decides to change the subject. Well, Ivie just called. She wants me to pick her up again. I tell ya, all those men she claims that chase after her should be able to take her to work sometimes! That girl changes men like she changes hairstyles...every other day! With a quick, awkward chuckle she looks over at Azalea, hoping to cheer up. Azalea was leaning up against the window, clutching her stomach. Uh oh, you alright down there? Or shall I ask, are the TWO of you alright? Iris continues her attempts. Oh girl, don’t even go there. I’m just a little queasy that’s all. Yeah right, maybe you’re hungry...maybe ya’ll hungry! Whatever! Let’s hurry up and get some breakfast. I think your brain needs some nourishment! Azalea finally smiles. Iris is so pleased at her refreshed countenance; she doesn’t even respond to Azalea’s comment.

Five blocks later they pull into a gated driveway. The long vehicle passes a large brick pedestal that had an engraving on the front of it:

OLIVE GARDEN APARTMENTS.

I hope this girl is ready, we only have thirty minutes to get breakfast and get to work on time. I like getting there at least ten minutes before the others. You know how nosy they can be in that office. We don’t want them to see nothing they don’t need to see. In spite of Azalea’s attempt to conceal her bruised eye, Iris had easily noticed. Azalea pulls down the sun visor mirror and to see that the make-up was not covering up the bruise like she had hoped. The slit was half closed and had swollen into a purple and brown bump. She had wanted the light bronze foundation to do its job, but it didn’t seem to have worked. She quickly replaces the sunglasses back to her eyes just in time. Ivie hurries towards the car.

I can’t believe this girl is finally on time. Every since we were younger, she’d always be the one straggling behind...putting on all that make-up and crazy looking cloths. Out of the four of us, she is the only one who did everything late; late starting school, late graduating from school, and even late moving out of the house. She is late on everything! She just can’t seem to be on time to save her life. Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything. Azalea comments. Ivie soon opens the door. So Iris didn’t have a chance to respond. What up ladies? Ivie exclaims before climbing into the back seat. Her beaded necklaces and clashing bangles oddly backgrounds her loud, high pitched voice as she climbs into the back seat. The beads and bangles were calculated accessories to enhance her carefully chosen chocolate outfit: a corduroy baby doll dress covering cream and brown pint striped tights, ending with mocha cowboy boots. She clutches her dark brown knitted handbag closely to her side. Full in capacity, the contents inside bulges through, pressing through knitted crannies to the outside. Child, what is all that junk you toting, and what do you have on? Iris could not hold in the reprimand any longer. I done told you about that ‘child’ word. Anyway this is what all the top models are wearing. What models? You must be talking about those models in those country western videos! And yes, I did say ‘child’. You are younger that me ya know. Girl stop, I’m four years younger than you, not four years old. I think T.J. is your only child. Whatever. Where is your so-called boyfriend? He couldn’t take you to work this morning? Which one? Ivie proudly taunts. Mrs. Lexis, are we going for the Movie Star look today? She gives Azalea a sly glance. But Azalea does not reply. Iris repels her haughtiness with a quick smirk. Azalea remains quiet, paying little attention to the two siblings and their subliminal rivalry. Ya’ll should have seen this one at the Chic-Fil-A the other day. I was getting my usual chicken biscuit and... Oh you mean