friendship. Now it was time to move things in another direction but still at a slow pace, and inviting her to breakfast was a start.
After placing the scrambled eggs into a serving bowl he checked on the biscuits he had in the oven. They were almost ready. He flicked another glance over at Monique. Her back was to him as she stood at the window looking out while sipping a cup of coffee. The view of the Atlantic Ocean was gorgeous from here, but nothing, he thought, was more gorgeous than her. She was simply beautiful. Always had been and in his opinion, always would be.
After their jog, they had gone their separate ways to shower and change. Less than thirty minutes later, she had arrived and he had opened his door to find her standing there, looking refreshed and wearing a pair of capri pants and a tank top with a pair of cute leather sandals on her feet. She had offered to help him in the kitchen, but he wanted her to relax and make herself at home. Besides, from where he was positioned in the kitchen he could see her and he couldn’t think of anything more enticing that he wanted to rest his gaze upon.
“So, how are things going with three women sharing the same quarters?” he decided to ask, just to give her a reason to turn around. He wanted to look into her face again.
She turned and smiled. “It’s been almost a month, and things have been great so far, but then me, Faith, and Shannon have always gotten along. And now there’s Anna, our next-door neighbor, who works as a trauma doctor at the hospital. She’s been spending time with us as well. She’s nice, and I like her.”
Monique was silent for a moment and then said. “Faith, Shannon, and I have a special bond. They are the sisters I never had and even over the years, although we lived in separate parts of the country, we still managed to maintain a close relationship.”
He nodded as he took the biscuits out the oven. “Wasn’t there another one of you guys?”
He saw sadness cloud her eyes. “You have a good memory, and yes, there was Cely. She died earlier this year.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. What did she die of?”
Monique’s eyes got bleaker. “A drug overdose. She committed suicide.”
Her response hadn’t been what he’d been expecting to hear, and he could tell from the look on her face that she still found the thought of someone close, someone she knew, doing something like that mind-boggling. “I’m sorry to hear that, but you’ll be surprised how the suicide rate among African Americans, especially the women, has risen over the years. It’s a very serious public health problem.”
“The entire thing just baffles me,” Monique said, shaking her head. “I remember a time when the thought of suicide in the black community was a no-no, definitely a taboo, something you would never consider—but now . . .”
“Yes, you’re right. Suicide is usually the culmination of an individual’s battle with depression or the stress of living in today’s society. But typically it’s depression that’s the major cause.”
Monique wrapped her arms around her waist, clearly disturbed. “And that’s what bothers me the most because neither me, Faith, or Shannon had any reason to think Cely was depressed about anything. The last time I spoke with her, which was only two weeks before, she was doing fine. At least she led me to believe that she was,” she said, dropping down on a nearby couch.
Within a flash, Lyle edged around the breakfast bar and sat down beside her on the sofa, placing a comforting arm around her shoulder. “Hey, as close as you and your friend were, you shouldn’t take it personal that she didn’t confide in you before doing what she did. It wasn’t that she thought she couldn’t; she just chose not to. It’s unfortunate that she didn’t realize help is available and that early recognition and treatment for depression are the key.”
Monique shook her head, trying not to notice how close they
After placing the scrambled eggs into a serving bowl he checked on the biscuits he had in the oven. They were almost ready. He flicked another glance over at Monique. Her back was to him as she stood at the window looking out while sipping a cup of coffee. The view of the Atlantic Ocean was gorgeous from here, but nothing, he thought, was more gorgeous than her. She was simply beautiful. Always had been and in his opinion, always would be.
After their jog, they had gone their separate ways to shower and change. Less than thirty minutes later, she had arrived and he had opened his door to find her standing there, looking refreshed and wearing a pair of capri pants and a tank top with a pair of cute leather sandals on her feet. She had offered to help him in the kitchen, but he wanted her to relax and make herself at home. Besides, from where he was positioned in the kitchen he could see her and he couldn’t think of anything more enticing that he wanted to rest his gaze upon.
“So, how are things going with three women sharing the same quarters?” he decided to ask, just to give her a reason to turn around. He wanted to look into her face again.
She turned and smiled. “It’s been almost a month, and things have been great so far, but then me, Faith, and Shannon have always gotten along. And now there’s Anna, our next-door neighbor, who works as a trauma doctor at the hospital. She’s been spending time with us as well. She’s nice, and I like her.”
Monique was silent for a moment and then said. “Faith, Shannon, and I have a special bond. They are the sisters I never had and even over the years, although we lived in separate parts of the country, we still managed to maintain a close relationship.”
He nodded as he took the biscuits out the oven. “Wasn’t there another one of you guys?”
He saw sadness cloud her eyes. “You have a good memory, and yes, there was Cely. She died earlier this year.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. What did she die of?”
Monique’s eyes got bleaker. “A drug overdose. She committed suicide.”
Her response hadn’t been what he’d been expecting to hear, and he could tell from the look on her face that she still found the thought of someone close, someone she knew, doing something like that mind-boggling. “I’m sorry to hear that, but you’ll be surprised how the suicide rate among African Americans, especially the women, has risen over the years. It’s a very serious public health problem.”
“The entire thing just baffles me,” Monique said, shaking her head. “I remember a time when the thought of suicide in the black community was a no-no, definitely a taboo, something you would never consider—but now . . .”
“Yes, you’re right. Suicide is usually the culmination of an individual’s battle with depression or the stress of living in today’s society. But typically it’s depression that’s the major cause.”
Monique wrapped her arms around her waist, clearly disturbed. “And that’s what bothers me the most because neither me, Faith, or Shannon had any reason to think Cely was depressed about anything. The last time I spoke with her, which was only two weeks before, she was doing fine. At least she led me to believe that she was,” she said, dropping down on a nearby couch.
Within a flash, Lyle edged around the breakfast bar and sat down beside her on the sofa, placing a comforting arm around her shoulder. “Hey, as close as you and your friend were, you shouldn’t take it personal that she didn’t confide in you before doing what she did. It wasn’t that she thought she couldn’t; she just chose not to. It’s unfortunate that she didn’t realize help is available and that early recognition and treatment for depression are the key.”
Monique shook her head, trying not to notice how close they
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