I’m forty-years-old, well not yet but soon. I want to have a man sleep next to me at night; I want to be able to call him up and cry and he understands, and when I get up in the middle of the night and tell him I have to go home because my head is full he understands. I want him to love the dark me, the dark places inside me where the ghosts are chasing me.
I stop running. I’m walking now toward my tree. I touch her bark and lean my forehead against her. I wrap my arms around her and breathe deeply. The tears run down my face. I hold on tight and just let the tears flow for the person I am and the person I wish I could have been.
I open my eyes and he’s standing there. I turn my face away from him and keep holding on. I feel his hand against my back, running up and down slowly. I loosen my arms and let them hang at my side.
I sit beside him under the branches of my favorite tree and listen to him tell how they tortured him. He didn’t have to tell me. I wasn’t there, but I felt every jab, every stab. I have no scars, as he does, to show my wound, to back up my story. He was a grown man; I was ten years old.
The first time I screamed in my sleep Granny Nanny was so scared she locked all the windows and barred the doors. She was certain someone had raped or beaten me. I wailed in pain; my body roasted with fever. The next morning I felt better. I told her I didn’t remember what happened to me the night before because I didn’t want to describe it to her. The second night, I slept beside her; she kept the light on. Sometime after two in the morning, I stood up straight, my body stiff, then fell forward on my face howling in pain. Granny Nanny held me crying until I passed out, then she had no choice but to carry me in the dark to the clinic. She woke up the nurse and together they worked on me until I finally regained consciousness. I was moaning in such agony that Granny Nanny wished I had stayed unconscious.
For six nights, I suffered. On the seventh night, villagers gathered to exorcise the spirits that inhabited my body at night. They said the living and the dead can’t dwell in the same house. They rubbed me down with a fowl smelling ointment before I fell asleep and wrapped me in white sheets like a mummy. They then covered me with branches from the jumbie bean tree. They gave me bitter tea that made my tongue tingle and made me sweat like a race horse. They told Granny Nanny sweating was a good thing. When the pain hit me, the sweat made everything worse. I was burning long before they placed me on the hot, steaming coals.
After that I slept for two days. When I awoke, I told Granny Nanny that Daddy had died.
“The one thing that kept me alive was you. I couldn’t die and not see you again. Every time they beat me or branded me, I concentrated on you,” he said. “The look in your eyes the last time I saw you haunted me. I had no idea we were so deeply connected that you would feel my pain.”
“Granny Nanny said that God never gives us more than we can handle. She said I was an old soul and I should remember that what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger. Daddy, I survived, but I need a break. I just want to relax and enjoy myself … for once.”
“Let him help you.”
“I don’t think Mark is equipped to help me. He’s had a cushy life.”
“From the outside you may look like you’ve had an easy life too. The first time I saw you, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You were elegant and beautiful sitting on the train reading. You had on a yellow frock with black shoes, white stockings and curls at the top of your head. I decided not to bother you. You looked like you had a good life. Then I followed you and sat in the park waiting for Zoi to get home. You came out running before Zoi arrived and on your way back you stopped here. My heart dropped when I saw you hug this tree and cry.”
“She has been my mother for the past three years. She’s a good listener and she keeps my secrets.”
“Eunella, let the secrets go unless someone is paying you to keep them.”
I laugh.
“Why did you let us go?”
“I couldn’t take care of you on my own. Emotionally, I was finished. Before you, she was all I wanted. My wife consumed me. I was surprised I had room for you and Zoi.”
We’re both quiet.
“If you found out you were mentally incapable of taking care of your children and they were two and four, what would you have done?”
“I would have given them to Zoi.”
“I gave you to your grandmother. She was my Zoi. After you were gone, I was drunk for a week. Then I tried to go to Vietnam with the Americans and ended up on a suicide mission trying to kill myself, trying to kill my pain.”
“I’m glad you didn’t die. In my heart, I love you, but I hate you too.”
“I know.”
“We should go back before Zoi has to waddle over here to get you.”
“She worries about you. She really likes this fellow, Mark, for you. She thinks he could give you what you need.”
“I want to be with him, but I’m afraid. I’m crazy and I can’t ask someone to love me knowing what I know.”
“How can you still say you’re crazy? You felt me and I was here. You felt my pain and I was in pain. I wounded you and you hurt. You’re not crazy. You have experienced life to a degree that most people will never understand.”
“So, I’m sane?”
“Yes, my child, you are sane but occasionally in pain,” Dad stresses, as he runs his hand over my hair.
Dad, Zoi and I spend Sunday together chatting. We tell him about our childhood in St. Matthews. He isn’t afraid to tell us he’s disappointed we became parents so young. He is proud of our educational accomplishments and that we stayed together as a family. He visited Granny Nanny’s grave in St. Matthew’s to thank her for doing a better job of rearing us than he could have done.
Spending time with Dad and listening to him slowly shifts me from the fantasy of being in love with him, the perfect father, to seeing him as a frail, imperfect man who cries and admits he failed us. I’m transformed from insecure child to insecure woman with hope. It may not sound like much, but for me, it’s like running a mile in three minutes flat.
As we talk, I observe Zoi’s face. She wants him to stay forever.
I need more time.
Monday morning comes quickly. Mark has not returned my call from Saturday night and I’m taking it well. I arrive at work very early feeling good. It’s the week for me to slip Bridgette into my spot without anyone noticing. I pack all my files in boxes and move them to the conference room. I number the boxes then proceed to box my personal stuff. By the time Kaitlin arrives, her space gives the false appearance that she’s the one moving.
“Nella? What’s going on? Is this all your stuff?” Kaitlin asks.
“Yes, so sorry I’m invading. It’ll be gone by tomorrow morning.”
“I’m going to miss you. You were the best boss I ever had.”
I stop wrapping a picture, sit on my desk and give her my attention.
“It was my pleasure working with you. You made my life easier and I will always recommend you.”
“Thank you. Now, can I help or get you anything?”
“No, I’m handling it. Bridgette should be here by noon to start moving in her stuff. Nothing will change for you except the way she works. You will have to make the adjustment, but I don’t think you’ll find it difficult. The job remains the same.”
“Nella, can I at least take you out for a drink on Friday?”
I examine her face. She can’t fool me.
“If I don’t show up, will they kill you?”
“Yes, so please pretend and say yes. Will Zoi be able to come?”
“Call her and tell her it’s a surprise. She should bring anyone else who would like to come.”
“I’ll do that.”
At nine-thirty, I’m in the conference room spreading folders along the table like a deck of cards. By the end of the day, Bridgette should have gone through them and start setting up her own filing system. By Tuesday, the filing should be done and by Wednesday she should be taking phone calls and solving
problems. On Thursday, I’m only here to answer questions and clarify any issues she may have. On Friday, it’s optional.
“Nella, Mark would like to see you in his office,” Mary says from behind me.
“I’ll be right there.”
“Nella, I’m going to miss you,” she adds.
I turn. “I’m going to miss you too, Mary. You’re very good at what you do and Mark is lucky to have you.”
She smiles. “Thank You, Nella. That is so sweet of you to say.”
I follow her and knock on the open door.
“Good morning, how was your weekend?” I ask Mark.
“It was good, how was yours?”
“Good.”
“What’s going on in the conference room?”
“I’ve moved out, so Bridgette can move in. Filing is a personal thing and as we go over the folders she can come up with her own system. They’ll be gone by the end of the day.”
“Why don’t you have a seat?” he asks as I close the door.
I sit, but I still haven’t looked him in the eye.
“Nella?”
An emotion passes over my chest at the way he says my name. I close my eyes, fold my lips and then look at him. He’s gazing at me.
“How were your kids?”I ask.
He looks away and grins. “They were great. We went skating on Saturday and spent Sunday at my parents.”
“Good. Unless you need me for something else I should get back to work.”
“We need to talk. That message you left me on Saturday night.”
“I know, pathetic. I was bored and thinking of you, but it got better and I had a good time.”
“Who did you have a date with?”
“My friend, Paul. His date cancelled on him and it was a black tie affair, so I filled in. Then I met his friend Dr. Hollister who was so much fun that getting home at five in the morning was worth it. How was the sex between you and Chloe?”
“Chloe and I did not have sex.”
“Why not?”
“It’s time to move on, so we ended it,” he says, looking directly at me.
“I hope you did it for you.”
He stands and says, “I did it for me.”
“Good, I have work to do,” I say walking out of his office.
I stand at the windows in the conference room staring into space. I can feel my heart beating fast. He ended it and he didn’t have sex with her. I was hoping he had sex with her, so I would have an excuse not to follow through, but surprisingly I feel relief.
Damn, what do I want?
He has no problems with me or the color of my skin. I have the problem. I can sleep with him and enjoy him. I sit and listen to him and let him hold me and soothe me. But can I take him out in public and be comfortable? We went out before and it didn’t bother me. Will he understand what it means to be me?
I grab my cell.
“Hi,” he says.
“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”
“Yes, but you need to ask me in person.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to look in your eyes and make sure you understand what you’re asking.”
“It sounds complicated. Maybe I need to think about it more, bye.”
“Nella,” I hear him yell as I hang up.
My cell vibrates as Bridgette walks in. I look and immediately turn it off.
I explain the goal for the next three days then we get down to business. We break for lunch and before I can escape Mary tells me Mark would like to see me for lunch. Bridgette goes back upstairs to eat and I reluctantly join Mark.
“You really should be eating lunch with Bridgette,” I say as I open my lunch. It’s not what I ordered.
I peek over at his lunch, but his hand keeps it close.
I look at his face and our eyes lock. A sensation moves over my stomach. I ease up and then walk to the other side of the table.
He stands and we kiss. I raise my arms and embrace him around his neck as he draws my hips closer to his.
I taste him.
I want this.
I want him.
We slowly stop.
“What are you going to do next week when you feel the urge for one of those?” I ask, taking my lunch and walking back to the other side of the table.
“Come to your house and get it,” he says. “Matter of fact, how would you like to spend the weekend with me?”
I look up at his face. “This weekend?”
“Yes, this weekend.”
“I can’t. Roland and Zander are coming home to meet their grandfather.”
“When are they coming, Friday or Saturday?”
“Friday night.”
“Nella, will I be meeting them?”
“No, it’s way too early and you’re not my boyfriend.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” he says.
I stop eating and stare at my food. He feels a little like my boyfriend, except I’ve never dated or had a boyfriend before.
“Mark, I’m from St. Matthews and girls from St. Matthews don’t date. We get married young or we have a man.”
“And you got married young. What about since you arrived here?”
“I had sex with my friend Paul and neither of us liked it and then I had sex with Leigh. We never went anywhere or did anything together. It was just sex. If there’s a party and we met there we behaved as if we were just friends.”
“Didn’t Zoi date?”
“Yes, but not publicly. We had a deal, no men in the house until the boys went to college. After we moved to Brooklyn, her boyfriend came by, but I would go running or disappear into my room. When she got married to Darnell, I moved downstairs.”
“Well, we can start by going out, to parties, movies, Broadway shows, go to dinner or just spend time together. If we were younger, in our teens or early twenties, we would wait to have sex, get to know each other a little. People like us behave according to our experience.”
“My experience with Leigh is that he had to have sex at least once a week.”
“So what happened after sex?”
“I would go home. If it wasn’t too late or I wasn’t too tired I would take the train from Brooklyn to the Bronx. After I moved to Brooklyn, I usually took a cab.”
“He let you leave his bed and go home alone?”
“Well … he never offered, but I don’t think I wanted him to. The less he knew for sure the better.”
“And you said the sex wasn’t good.”
“I didn’t know it wasn’t good at the time. Sometimes I climaxed and sometimes I didn’t. He said nice things and it turned me on and I thought, okay, I’m ready and it worked and that’s how it’s supposed to be.”
“So when did you decide it wasn’t good sex?”
I examine his face. He really wants to know.
“When you made love to me the first time.”
“How about with your husband?”
“That was a while ago. It was okay.”
“Nella, you remember things from when you were four.”
“I know. Usually it’s the bad things that stick in my brain.”
“How do you know that what we share is good?”
“Now you’re fishing,” I say laughing.
“Yes. I want to hear you say it out loud.”
“Mark, you are the best lover I’ve ever had,” I say, looking up at his face. He closes his eyes and bites his lip. “You asked.”
He laughs. “So, I did.”
We spend Wednesday night at Marks’s apartment. He cooks while I lie on the floor going through his CDs. I put in Shaggy and Mark sings along with the words. I watch him as he starts to move, then I stand and join him in the center of the kitchen. As we dance to Shaggy’s Angel, I’m impressed. I offer to help him cook, but he wants me to just sit back and relax. After dinner, which was pasta with veal and vegetables, I ask about his children again.
“How often do you see the kids when they’re not with you?”
“Performances and recitals?” I ask.
“They both attend a performing arts school. Zack plays the violin and Tiffany dances and plays the piano.”
“I’m glad you’re involved. Your face lights up when you talk about them.”
“It wasn’t easy leaving them. I moved back in even after we got divorced to be there for them, but that was not the right thing to do.”
“Why?”
“They got the wrong idea and the next time I moved out they thought I was playing. It’s like breaking their hearts twice.”
“How did you end it with Chloe?”
“I flew up on Friday night. Usually we would have sex then. The kids would spend the night with her parents. I would drive to the house, spend the night and then go to my parents early Saturday morning. Later I’d return and pick up the children. This time I went to my parents first, then dropped by the house driving Dad’s car. She knew things were about to change.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her we’re both blocking each other’s future. She will never move on if we keep clinging to the past. She told me she had someone else, but she enjoys making love to me, and that I was right. We should let go.”
“You didn’t want to make love to her?”
He looks intently at me. “I did.”
“What stopped you?”
“You. I didn’t want to have to explain to you how I can feel something so intense for you and still sleep with another woman. I didn’t want to look into your eyes and regret something I had the power to avoid.”
“You could have lied about it.”
“No, not to you.”
I feel a wave of warmth pass through my stomach.
“Mark, how do I keep from … screwing up with you? How do I keep you?”
He laughs. “First you have to ask me to be your boyfriend, then you have to want to be my girlfriend and then … we talk a lot and have lots of sex.”
“Do I have to change to be with you?”
“No. I like you the way you are. The question is, can you bring yourself to love a man like me? I look like a white boy and black girls in the past couldn’t handle that. I’m either something to be shown off or something they’re not sure they can take home.”
TAKE ME as I am Page 11