I Want Candy Read online

  “How far along is she?” Candy asked, fighting back the tears that welled in her eyes.

  Eric hesitated. “About nine months,” he said. “She’s almost due, but that doesn’t matter because it isn’t mine.”

  Candy’s mind raced as she tried to recall if Sanye had a bulging stomach or not. She couldn’t remember. She just knew that Sanye was attractive, arrogant, and hostile.

  “You and I were together,” Candy said in almost a whisper.

  “Candy, I didn’t cheat! Sanye is lying. You have to believe me. This isn’t my baby. She wants me back and is…”

  Candy stood up abruptly and clasped her shaking hands together.

  “I knew something wasn’t right when she approached me, Eric. A woman just knows these things. She was tryin’ to tell me something and size me up at the same time.”

  “That’s because she knew I was serious about you. I had brought you home, and she was threatened, Candy!” Eric stood up and turned Candy towards him. His eyes pleaded with her. “Baby, please! I need you to listen to me and support me right now. She’s a stranger to you, tryin’ to come between us. I’m in love with you. I married you, not her, and it’s drivin’ her crazy. That’s not my baby!”

  Candy’s head dropped drowsily onto Eric’s firm chest. Soft tears flowed. They dripped onto his chest, then slowly down to his stomach.

  “I know you’re upset,” Eric said calmly. “I am too. I know we’ll get through this because I didn’t do anything,” he assured as he rubbed Candy’s back. “I didn’t do anything, Baby.”

  * * *

  “Thank you for leading the meeting,” Mr. Justice said as he walked out of the conference room with Candy. He looked pensively at the handful of papers in his right hand, then looked back up.

  “No problem, Mr. Justice,” Candy said as she flipped through a folder absentmindedly.

  “Stacy was supposed to, but of course, she’s out sick again.” Mr. Justice rolled his eyes. “And it’s ‘Gabriel.’ Call me ‘Gabriel,’” he smiled as they approached Candy’s office.

  Candy smiled. “I keep forgetting! I’m sorry,” she said as she walked inside and took her seat behind her desk.

  “Candy, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” Mr. Justice said as he closed her office door behind them.

  Candy smiled cautiously. “Um, sure. What is it?”

  “You’re still performing job exceptionally well, so please don’t get me wrong when I say this, but you seem distracted. Is something bothering you?” He crossed his arms and stood assuredly in his dark-tan Armani suit. “I ask because you seem to be daydreaming frequently, which isn’t like you, and I’ve sent you emails that you don’t recall and haven’t answered. Something is surely wrong. This just isn’t like you.”

  Candy twitched around nervously in her chair.

  “It’s a private matter, but thank you for bringing it to my attention. I’ll make sure to be more professional. I’m sorry,” Candy said as she turned on her laptop. “I promise for our meeting this evening, you won’t even notice. I’ll get on the ball.”

  “Wait, Candy, that isn’t my reason for bringing it up. I’m sure you have lots of friends you can confide in, and it may seem awkward for your boss to ask personal questions, but I care about my employees, and I like you. I hired you not only because of your obvious abilities, but because you’re smart and personable. I’m not gonna push the issue, but the door’s open if you ever need to talk. I’ll see you at the meeting this evening.” Mr. Justice smiled, nodded, and excused himself promptly from Candy’s office.

  Candy sat silently at her desk contemplating what was just relayed to her. Today was especially hard since she knew that Sanye had delivered a 7 lb. 8 oz. baby boy the day before. She tried to resist the urge, but couldn’t help but ask Eric if the baby looked like him, which resulted in an explosive argument earlier that morning. She also knew that Eric was scheduled later in the week to do the DNA test. Trying to push the distressing thoughts out of her mind, Candy chugged down another lukewarm black coffee and devoured two king-sized, glazed donuts. She licked her fingertips as she finished off the crumbs of the thick, white icing. Her stomach churned. Reaching for a tissue to dab at her hands, she daydreamed, drifting into secure thoughts of her childhood when she would be at her mother’s hair salon.

  The odor of relaxers, jheri curls, and burning hot curling irons sealed her memories of familiar comfort. Laughing women with curly afros, gossip, and flirtations with the clean-shaven postman all made Candy smile modestly. The odd man that would come in selling cassette tapes of the S.O.S. Band and Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam was a regular. Not only would he sell cassettes, he was also a runner to pick up fish dinners smothered in onions and hot peppers. Cream sodas and hot sauce would arrive soon after in a crumply brown paper bag. Candy felt safe as she twirled around on the salon floor with her barefoot Barbie dolls, their hair plaited with sheen spray, and spaghetti-thin rainbow strands of yarn.

  ‘I wish I could just disappear for five minutes back there,’ Candy thought as her stomach cramped. She squinted and strained, fighting back the emotions that threatened to tell on her. She fought hard until the end of the day.

  “Hi, Mr. Justice,” she said as she walked into her boss’s office and closed the door behind her. The building was quiet, as most people had gone for the day. “I have the information you requested,” Candy said with a plastered-on smile.

  Gabriel looked at her and shook his head. “Now you’re trying too hard. Have a seat.” He took the report from her trembling hands and looked it over. She sat silently, allowing her eyes to fall on the small grandfather clock in the corner of the room. Each tick tock seemed to tease her, making her feel as if she were being timed.

  “Very good, Ms. Benet – I mean, Mrs. Fields,” Gabriel said as he looked up at her. “As usual, you’ve given me exactly what I need. I’m going away to California for a couple of days and need to present this information to the Board. Look Candy,” Gabriel paused as he watched her suck her bottom lip. His eyes narrowed as the tip of her tongue glossed over the pink fullness, adding more sheen to her already pouty appearance. “Uh, I was saying that I won’t keep pushing the issue, but please remember that I have an open door policy.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Justice – I mean, Gabriel. I may take you up on that one day, but today I just can’t bring myself to do it,” Candy explained.

  “Very well,” Gabriel said as he noted the definite sadness in her eyes. “Well, no need to drag this out. You’re free to go.”

  “OK, thank you, Gabriel,” Candy said as she stood up, smoothing out her skirt. She waved good-bye and headed out the office door.

  ‘Whatever it is, I wish I could fix it for you,’ Gabriel thought before he turned his attention back to the report.

  * * *

  She didn’t even recall walking to her car and driving home, but somehow she made it there in one piece. With streaked mascara and shaking hands, she went inside.

  Upon entering the house, her senses were hit with the aroma of roasted herb chicken, stewed green peppers, and cayenne. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eric holding a green and beige oven mitt. An iPod headset was securely in his ears. Near his shuffling hands were two crumpled paper grocery bags discarded onto the granite kitchen counter. She leaned thoughtfully into the doorway as she watched him doing a makeshift salsa dance as he stirred a large pot of what appeared to be gumbo.

  “Eric,” Candy said as she smiled and approached him. Unable to hear her, he continued to stir, swing his hips, and mouth the lyrics to a song she had never heard before. “Eric,” Candy repeated. He swung around, wild-eyed. Eric squinted and looked at the clock.

  “It’s 6:30 already?” he said as he put the large wooden spoon down on the counter.

  “Yes, it is. What are you doin’ home so early?” Candy asked as she put her purse on the counter.

  “As you can see, rain clouds moved in, and the project over at the stadium had to be put o
n hold. We can’t pour cement with it rainin’, so we’ll try again tomorrow,” he explained as he removed his headphones. “I thought I’d take this time to fix you some dinner. Well, warm you up some dinner,” he smiled.

  “It smells wonderful. I had no idea Kroger sold gumbo, though!” Candy said as she stuck her head closer to the simmering pot.

  “Oh, you got jokes!” Eric chuckled.

  Large, succulent pieces of shrimp danced at the top of the thick broth while juicy chunks of sausage circled around.

  “This right here didn’t come from Kroger,” Eric laughed. “This gumbo I picked up at a little joint that does it right. I’m just warmin’ it all up.” Eric added a pinch of salt and took Candy into his arms. “Look, Baby, I’m sorry about this mornin’s argument. I know things have been really tense between us lately. I’m sorry about everything that’s goin’ on. Also, just to let you know, I took the paternity test today. I took it early to get it off of our backs. The lady said I should know the results in a few days.” Eric looked saddened and turned back to the pot.

  Candy looked down at the ground, then slowly sat in a chair at the tiny kitchen table. An elaborate floral decoration blocked her view. She gingerly moved it to the other side, allowing her to watch Eric tend to his cooking.

  “I picked up a bottle of Sineann Pinot Gris. I hope you like it.” Eric smiled as he turned his back to the stove and made his way to the table, sitting across from Candy.

  “I could use a drink, especially after all the tension,” Candy smiled weakly. Her skin glowed under the soft kitchen lights as if diamond dust were sprinkled on her high cheeks. Eric reached across the table and took her hand.

  “Candy Cane, Baby,” he sighed heavily. “I just need you to trust me. I told you this child isn’t mine, and if there was a chance it were, I’d say so. It hurts me that you might not believe me.” Eric slowly released Candy’s hand and leaned back into his chair. The percolating of the gumbo created culinary percussion. Candy looked down, remaining silent. Eric rose and took out two deep-dish plates and carefully served up the gumbo. He walked back over to the table, handing her a spoon. The two sat and ate their dinner, occasionally smiling at one another. Candy finished her meal without a trace remaining. She stood up and washed the dishes as Eric retreated to the office and worked on the computer.

  Candy ran herself a bath. Emotions over took her as she repeatedly wiped away silent tears and internally prayed for a happy ending. She watched the thick, lavender bubble bath drop into the hot water. The aromatic bubbles formed quickly with the water jets powered on. In a trance, she watched the water rise as she removed her clothing, allowing it to fall haphazardly to the floor. Dozing in and out of sleepiness, with her arm hung lazily over the tub, she wiped more tears away.

  “Please, Lord. Please help us,” she whispered before submerging herself deeper into the water and closing her eyes.

  * * *

  “Since you’ve married him, you need to stick by his side,” Jasmine said as she picked up another hat and turned it in various directions, inspecting it under the harsh department store lights.

  “First, you don’t have one kind word to say about Eric except that he’s attractive. Now you’re singing the “Stand By Your Man” song. Jasmine, you’re really getting on my nerves,” Candy said, irritated as she flipped through a rack of clearance dresses. “These are all too thin and flimsy. No wonder they’re on sale,” she added as she sucked on her bottom lip.

  “Look, you’ve married him now is all I’m sayin’,” Jasmine added. “Now isn’t the time to bail on him. If he told you she’s lyin’, believe him.” Jasmine waved her hand nonchalantly in the air as she inspected another hat.

  “You just should have seen the way this woman looked at me,” Candy explained as she detoured to another nearby rack.

  “I don’t care if she had eighteen eyes. Some women are just like that, Candy, especially if they’re jealous.” Jasmine tried on the hat in the mirror.

  “Yeah, but it was pure hatred, even though she was smilin’. I don’t know. Believe me, I wanna be wrong. I wanna believe Eric. He and I barely spoke the last two days. We’re cordial, but I just don’t know what to say. I hate this waitin’. I just want my marriage back. We didn’t even get a good start.”

  “Girl, if you don’t stop inventin’ stuff in your head it’s gonna make you even crazier.” Jasmine tucked the hat under her arm as she turned an earring rack.

  Candy shrugged and looked at the earrings go round and round as Jasmine viewed them. Jasmine patted Candy lightly on the back. Candy followed her to the cashier, empty-handed, and waited as Jasmine paid for her items. She walked with Jasmine to her car. The sun had set, and the sky wore shades of bluish-gray.

  “So, where we gonna eat?” Jasmine said as she opened her car door.

  “Jasmine, I hate to be a party pooper. I think I need to veg out. Can you just drive me home?” Candy asked weakly as she slipped her purse over her shoulder. Jasmine quietly evaluated Candy’s face. She smiled and touched Candy’s hand.

  “I want you to take a warm bubble bath or something after you get there.”

  The drive home was quiet except for the sound of Erykah Badu droning over the airwaves. When Jasmine pulled up to Candy’s perfectly manicured lawn, she heard the faint sound of Etta James coming from the house. Eric’s car was parked in the driveway, his thick tool belt lying haphazardly on the passenger’s seat.

  “We’ll do dinner soon, Jasmine,” Candy stated apologetically. Jasmine nodded as she watched Candy exit the car and take her keys from her purse. The front door slowly closed as Jasmine put her car in reverse, then descended back down the quiet suburban street.

  Candy immediately slipped her shoes off and headed towards the refrigerator. Her dark-brown eyes scoured the shelves quickly. Her fingers lunged towards a cup of red Jell-O, whipped cream, a crate of freshly washed strawberries, and an onion potato chip dip. She laid everything out on the counter before turning to the pantry closet and opening a bag of sour cream and chive potato chips. Standing there closing her eyes, she quickly stuffed the salty, deep-fried potatoes into her mouth. She took one and dipped it carefully into the cold, white pool of creaminess before covering the small mountain of cherry Jell-O in whipped cream and sliced strawberries. The music boomed through the house. After five minutes had passed and over nine hundred calories were consumed in lightning speed, Candy noticed that the deck door was ajar. She walked toward it, opening it slowly before her eyes caught the sight of her husband, barefoot, hunched over with a beer in his hand. Candy watched as he traced his thumb along the beer bottle, seeming to drift in and out of consciousness.

  “Eric?” Candy said softly, breaking Ms. Etta James’ solo.

  Eric looked over his shoulder and made out his wife’s silhouette in the door way.

  “You’re home early,” he said coldly. “If I had known, I’d have made sure the house was clean. I just got home about thirty minutes ago myself. They’ve put the mall renovations on the back burner, and half of my men are laid off now. I guess today wasn’t exactly great,” he added as he turned away, looking into the night.

  “Oh, I’m sorry Eric. I hope something comes about soon,” Candy assured as she rubbed her arms from the chill.

  “I still have a job, but I’m just sorry for those guys. They have families, and before you know it, the winter’ll be here, and there’ll be fewer projects on the table.” Candy nodded in understanding.

  “I got somethin’ for you,” Eric said hesitantly. He handed Candy an envelope that had been roughly torn open. Candy struggled to read the front of it in the dark. She stepped inside the kitchen, flicked on the deck light and sat beside Eric as he continued to stare straight ahead.

  Candy read the top of the paper. She reread it, her eyes burning with tears. Suddenly she lunged towards Eric, hugging him tightly.

  “Oh, my God, Baby! I’m so glad this is over! Finally!” Candy exclaimed.

  “I told you I wa
sn’t that baby’s father,” Eric said solemnly. “I told you. Please, have a little more faith in me in the future.” He stood up abruptly and went inside the house.

  Candy heard the stereo cut off as she sat on the deck, her ankles crossed, still holding the envelope and papers. Her head dropped to her knees. “Thank you, Lord. Thank you for pullin’ us through.” Candy sighed heavily as she went back inside the house. She grabbed her cell phone from her purse and walked deep into her backyard, phoning Jasmine and Dallas to relay the good news.

  Several minutes later, she came inside, up to her bedroom to find Eric nestled under the covers, sound asleep. She gently touched the side of his face and smiled.

  “I love you, Baby. I’m sorry,” she said as she leaned over and gently kissed his cheek.

  * * *

  Candy slammed her diary closed again. Her relationship with Eric at times still felt fresh, at least the scars did.

  “Warning signs abound!” she blurted out of frustration. “Now I have men just like him comin’ out of the woodwork tryin’ to rekindle flames with me! Not on your life!” Candy swiftly jumped out of bed and grabbed her cell phone.

  “Hello?” a masculine voice on the other end of the phone spoke.

  “Quentin, this is Candy,” she said sternly.

  Quentin laughed. “What a pleasant surprise. Well, not really. I knew you’d call me back eventually. You know that…”

  “Quentin, cut the crap. I’m just callin’ to tell you that not on your best day and my worst day, would I ever let the likes of you back into my life. I’ve been to Hell and back, partially by my own doing, and I refuse to go back to the burn. You’re a toxic person, and I’m officially allergic to your bullshit!”