Revisited Feelings: From a Concealed Past

By Kateisha Shekila Minors

Kymberley Dawson is a successful businesswoman who thought she had it all: a thriving business, a steamy relationship with Jim Bricskoa rich, tall dark chocolate guy who treats her like a queen, and a bond since childhood with Derrick and Felicia Maynard that was unbreakable.

When tragedy struck both Kymberley and Felicia in one or more the same ways, they have no choice but to accept their fate and learn from their experiences, which reinforces their love, friendship, and trust for each other.

When Trevor Alleyne, someone from Kymberleys past, comes along with a hidden secret; is he too hot that it causes her to run, or will she hold on tight for the rest of her life?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Sep 11, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477223079

Book preview

Chapter One

When we are trapped in life, it is extremely useful to identify that many of the feelings we experience are

actually how we felt as children.

John Gray

Business As Usual

August 13

Wow!

Today is really the hottest day in London, I murmured as I passed my hands slowly around my neck.

The air conditioning was up to max, but the humidity still seemed to be disobedient. As I looked outside from the large glass windows of my office, eight storeys up in The Tower House in central London, the almost perfectly spherical sun beat ragingly on the pavement. It appeared as though no air was outside and only hydrogen was being released into the atmosphere as the people hustling on the busy sidewalk seemed irritable and restless.

I really felt it for those outside, but in many ways, it was a beautiful day for electromagnetic dreams under the shades of a Liriodendron Tulipifera tree in the nearby park.

My eyes wasted no time, and as they wandered into the heavens, I almost lost myself in the clear and cloudless blue sky. Its erotic openness reminded me of a satin sheet to lie on—undisturbed, if I might add.

It’s a really good day for picnicking, I thought.

As I sat back lazily in my newly purchased, oxblood-burgundy, Alera Century Series wing-back spin chair, with its conventional brass nail head trim, cushioned arms, and tilt tension controls, I adjusted my body slowly, wiggling as a worm from my hips up. Hum! For the first time in months, I was comfortable.

With both hands laced loosely behind my neck, my eyes wandered all around. I could see all the employees outside. The distance between us was so close; only a thin sheet of glass separated us.

Everyone seemed restless. I could see the movement of lips all round, but little or no work seemed to be happening. I hesitantly got up fifteen minutes later and walked slowly into the open-plan office, which contained ten desks and accommodated twelve employees.

As I walked inside, the noise faded almost instantaneously. Everyone tried hard to look busy.

Really! You can’t fool me, I thought.

I looked at everyone and said huskily, "Business is slow and it’s a lovely day. Everyone can leave early. Enjoy what’s left of the day, and see you at 9.30 a.m. sharp on Monday."

Everyone was happy; I could see smiles on every single face in the room. Within half an hour, the entire office was crystal clear and soundless, every chair was vacant, everything was still, and it was as though the place had been abandoned for years.

Unbelievable! Oh how I wish these smiles and swiftness were practised when it came to everyday work.

As I looked around the empty room, I could remember how Saturday had been for years one of the busiest days of the week, but not much seemed to be happening these days. Sales had been constantly decreasing for the past twelve months. Every day, the work became more and more frustrating, dealing with the hostility and animosity amongst staff, laziness and slumping performances, irate customers, and an increase in bad debts.

Small businesses had been feeling the pinch from the recession. There was a pile-up of bills, and with about enough to breakeven, it had been really tough. More people were being made redundant, while others still employed did not take their work half as serious; they worked only to rule and barely worked outside of their contract.

That’s not part of my contract seemed to be the new slogan these days; no wonder some countries had been hit the hardest by the global recession, and ours was no different.

It was 8.45 p.m. already—time really waited for no one; it hadn’t done justice to outside either. The stubborn sun was still coming through the windows with magnificence. I should call it in for today, I thought as I stretched my hands back and yawned.

Twenty minutes later, as I was about to get into the elevator, the phone at the reception desk rang.

Should I or should I not answer? I deliberated for a brief moment.

I wanted so desperately to ignore the ringing sound across the room, but with a business to run, it was hardly ever possible. I hurriedly tossed my bags on the chair to answer.

It was another unsatisfied customer who was complaining about the terrible party arrangement done by the events manager, Felicia Maynard, last Friday afternoon in St Katherine’s Hall.

This was the fourth complaint about her within the last three weeks. On Tuesday, there were other complaints about the receptionist, Susan, concerning her telephone skills. Although complaints had been flooding in, most seemed to be regarding Felicia, and it was really shameful coming from management personnel with loads of experiences.

Dealing with staff and complaints every day made the work more and more frustrating.

Constant provision in the annual budget for training, development, and proper management, but still all these complaints. Is it worth it?

Is it really worth it? I questioned myself repeatedly in annoyance.

To tell the truth, I feel fed up!

Felicia’s attitude had seriously deteriorated further within recent months, not to mention her newly adopted smoking anaesthetic. Since the death of her husband, Derrick Maynard, in the army a couple years ago, she seemed to be taking a ride down guilty lane, holding a cup overflowing with sadness, regret, and guilt.

I remembered before Derrick’s first deployment to Afghanistan they were so happy and they were always together. I’d become so jealous of their relationship to a point where I’d wished a few times that Derrick was my husband instead, but when Derrick came back from his third deployment in four years, they were always fighting and bickering. They never stopped arguing. They argued over lunch, tea, and dinner; the only time they didn’t argue was when they were asleep.

In fact, the way they argued, I was almost certain that even their spirits argued when they were asleep.

With so much argument, I could never exist amongst it.

I was a bit concerned, so I asked Felicia about it.

These were her exact words to me:

Kym do you remember how Derrick and I were before we migrated to London and he joined the Army?

Yes, I remember you went everywhere together, I said.

Well Kym, I think the army has changed Derrick, before everything was perfect between us, we gelled, he was loving, kind, understanding and a man of his words but now I feel as though I don’t know him anymore.

Since he came back from his last deployment, he is different, different, different. Kym frankly, our love life is boring and unromantic. I don’t know why things between have deteriorated so badly but right now I don’t care. Derrick can’t even hold a civil conversation without an argument. I just had it up to here with him right now Kym. I had enough, she repeated.

What was interesting is that she said it in a cold and somewhat uncoupling manner, as though she didn’t care much anyway or wasn’t too bothered.

Could time and events really change people that much, to a point where they become strangers to you or to themselves, even when you have known each other for years? It was a question I couldn’t answer.

Jim my partner, although we were just six months into our relationship and he hardly knew Felicia or Derrick wanted to help because he believed that love is worth fighting for and they were made for each other. But I was so disappointed, despite knowing Felicia and Derrick since kindergarten, I didn’t want to meddle any deeper.

I didn’t want them to drag me down that self-destructive place they were heading. I felt sick. I couldn’t understand it. I couldn’t understand how they could give up on true love. I couldn’t understand it.

The following weekend, Jim made a surprise dinner date with Felicia, Derrick, and me at Skyla De Le Tour. This was the exact restaurant where we first met. He swept me off my feet by telling me how petite and lovely I was in my tight lace body hugging black dress. He told me that he would love to see beyond my glossy brown eyes and play with my long black hair and when he has accomplished his mission, that is, to win my heart, he would be able to see beyond my cute and innocent smile. One cheeky bastard he was but also quite sweet so for me this restaurant had sentimental values.

Half an hour later while we searched through the menu, indecisive of what we wanted to eat as our main course, Derrick’s mobile phone kept on beeping. I looked at Felicia with my eyebrows half raised from the menu. She looked really uneasy and annoyed. When it became overbearing, she glided her chair backward to remove her feet from under the table covered with black and gold cotton tablecloths. She took up her metallic handbag and stood up.

She shouted awkwardly as she turned.

Damn it, I can’t take another fucking second with you, she swore at Derrick as she walked briskly out of Skyla De Le Tour restaurant in London Bridge.

I felt embarrassed; everyone in the restaurant was staring at us, all the drama made me feel like I was in an episode of EastEnders. Derrick, looking somewhat surprised, apologized and rushed outside behind her.

I gradually raised the