Till We Meet Again

by Sylvia Crim-Brown

  When he came the next morning to deliver the groceries he hung his head in shame…knowing that he was wrong on so many levels. At about this time I had a distant cousin that lived in the area. She had a few kids of her own and did not work outside the home. I asked her to babysit while I worked a temp job a few days a week. She agreed and I joined a temp agency. After working for a week I started feeling good about myself. It felt so good to get that 1st paycheck. But then after the 2nd week I kept checking the mail for my next paycheck. But the check never came. I kept calling the temp agency and they said the check was mailed. We lived in a two family house. There were 3 older men who lived upstairs. One day one of them knocked on my door and asked if I wanted some food. He had gone to the meat market and offered chicken for the boys and me. I politely said “no” and quickly closed the door. Those guys always gave me the creeps.

  The next day I was bringing the boys home in the double stroller my mom had bought for us (I called it “the 18 wheeler”) after a long day at work. The three men were sitting on the stoop and the “meat guy” offered to help me. I let him lift the stroller up the stairs and to the front door. I thanked him. Standing way too close to me he told me how he knew that I was struggling to take care of the boys by myself and that he could help me, with whatever I needed. I quickly told him no thanks and closed my door…putting on the triple lock. It was then that I realized what happened to that 2nd paycheck. I quickly called the temp agency telling them I would pick up my checks for now on. And then made a call to our family friend Shirley who was a social worker in Westchester County where I grew up. She told me what I had to do to get assistance if I moved back to Westchester. Not letting Thomas or my family know what I was doing, it was then that I began planning my escape.

  A couple of weeks later I was woken up in the middle of the night by someone banging on the door. At first I was frightened thinking it was the “meat guy” upstairs. But then I heard Thomas’ voice asking me to let him in.

  When I opened the door he looked and smelled drunk. His shirt was torn and it had blood on it. I let him in and asked what happened. Slurring his speech he explained that he and his girl had a fight and that she was in the hospital. She’s going to be alright but that he had to get away. He can’t stay there anymore. That he misses me and the boys and that he knows he screwed up. He then admitted that she was pregnant. My stomach dropped and I swear my heart skipped a beat. Against any common sense I had gained these past few months I told him he could spend the night with us. He went to the bed and fell asleep in a drunken stupor.

  The next morning he got up, put his shoes on, and walked out the door. He never said a word to me or even acknowledged the boys. He went back to his girl’s place, where of course she took him back.

  Two weeks later Thomas called me during the evening saying that he was picking up Tommy to bring him to his place so his girl can meet him. In so many words I told him no way. The next thing I knew he was at the door. I wouldn’t let him in. I told him I would call the cops if he didn’t leave, so he took off. The next morning dropping off the groceries he told me what a selfish bitch I was, smacked me leaving a black eye, and leaving no reason for me to stay on Long Island any longer.

  He had his own issues and now it was time for me to raise my sons the way they should be raised. Everyone has something that lights a fire under them. Mine was my sons.

  Now here I was with two babies, Tommy 19 months old and 8 month old Aiden, getting ready to escape. I quietly carried Thomas into their room as Aiden lay napping in his crib. As I laid Thomas in his own crib the right side of my head continued to throb. No more! I refused to raise my sons in this type of environment. The boys and I had been by ourselves for about 7 months as it was. It was time to make things official. I was scared but I knew we couldn’t live like this anymore.

  I called our family friend Shirley. I told her what happened and asked if she knew of a place where the boys and I could stay. I didn’t feel comfortable going back to my grandparents’ house with my tail between my legs. Shirley said that she had a small room in the back of her basement. It was just big enough to fit a twin sized bed she already had there and the boys’ two cribs. I immediately agreed and thanked her. The next day, a Saturday, after Thomas dropped off groceries Rita and Marilyn showed up at my place. Rita had our mother’s mini-station wagon and Marilyn with her Dodge Laser. Both small cars but somehow we were able to fit the two cribs, a TV, VCR, and clothes. There was nothing else on Long Island I wanted or needed.

  As we drove the cars across the Throgs Neck Bridge, I felt like a prisoner who finally finished doing her time. I was happy to be free but what would I find on the outside world? At that moment I vowed never to return to Long Island again. In my heart and head I thanked God for providing an escape for the boys and me.

  1

  Chapter 4

  Charles lived in an apartment on the Upper Westside of Manhattan near Riverside Drive. I drove up to the building with its green awning. The doorman wearing a long green coat with gold braids on the sleeves and matching hat opened the driver’s side of my Saab. A valet with a short green coat handed me a ticket for my car. The doorman removed my overnight bag from the trunk and walked me through the front door of the building.

  There was a Concierge desk in the lobby. As I walked up to the desk the gentleman behind it asked me my name and who I was visiting. As I gave him both of our names, my stomach was in knots.

  “Mr. Dupree,” the Concierge said into the phone. “Ms. Cameron has arrived...Yes sir.” He hung up the phone and looked up at me. “You can go up Ms. Cameron. Mr. Dupree is located on the 10th floor and to the right.”

  “Thank you,” I said and walked over to the elevator. As I got into the elevator and pressed the button for the 10th floor the knots in my stomach seemed to get tighter. What was I doing? For so many years I successfully avoided getting emotionally involved and here I was hauling my behind all the way to New York City to hook up with some guy. But was it really “just a hook up”? And was this really just “some guy”?

  Before I could answer my own questions the elevator door opened. My legs were shaking as I walked down the hall to Charles’ apartment. There were only two apartments on this floor. Just as I was about to press the doorbell Charles opened the door with bare feet and damp hair. He was wearing a white t-shirt that showed off his biceps and a pair of jeans. He looked great.

  “Hi there!” he said with his killer smile and a quick kiss.

  “Hi there,” I said, taking a deep breath. Easy girl, I warned myself.

  “Perfect timing,” he said while grabbing my overnight bag. “I just got out of the shower.”

  “I see that.” Not able to resist, I stood on my toes to ruffle his curls with my fingertips.

  He bent down and gave me a lingering kiss.

  We walked through the foyer with its tray ceiling, chandelier and art work. It opened up to a large living room. The first thing I noticed were the floor to ceiling windows, which took up the entire wall. The sheer curtains were opened all the way so you could take in an unobstructed view of New York City. The view of the city was amazing. The tall buildings and bridges all lit up the night sky. It was like a postcard.

  The apartment was filled with sexy jazz coming from the Bose speakers strategically placed. Coltrane was playing as I noticed the fireplace in the living room was lit. A large mirror hung over the mantel along with a few small artifacts that looked to be from various areas around the world. The lights were dimmed and I could smell the vanilla/lavender scent coming from some of the candles that sat on the end tables of the white couch. The L shaped couch looked like a piece of art work with its intricate carvings but yet super comfortable with its plush pillows all at the same time.

  Being that the apartment had an open concept I was able to see the dining area and the kitchen at once. The round glass dining table was set with white roses as a centerpiece and tapered white candles on either side. The table set for two wit
h fine china and stemware made me feel as if I was dining in at a five star restaurant.

  “Wow, Charles,” I exclaimed. “This is some set up.”

  Looking a little bashful he said, “I don’t get to entertain much so when I do I want to go all out. Although I have to admit I’m a bit out of practice with the ‘table for two’ scenario.” Looking me directly in the eyes he said, “It’s been a long time.”

  I swallowed hard and looked away.

  Standing in front of the breakfast bar with its three stools I looked into my dream kitchen. The granite counter tops, cherry wood cabinets, high end stainless steel appliances including a double oven; one of those professional six burner gas stoves with the red knobs and a wine cooler. I knew of women who’d marry him for the appliances alone.

  “Charles your home is really beautiful.”

  “I was just about to take the roasted chicken out of the oven,” Charles said reaching for the pot holders. I could smell the garlic and rosemary as he took the chicken from the oven.

  “Oh boy, that smells really good,” I said, my mouth almost watering.

  He gave me a boyish grin. “I hope you like it.”

  “I’m sure I will.”

  Forever the gentleman he refused to let me help him in the kitchen but escorted me to the dining table with a glass of wine while he brought the various dishes toward me. As he laid out the roasted chicken stuffed with wild rice and roasted garlic lemon broccoli, I felt like a Queen being pampered by her King.

  As I took my first bite of the chicken Charles asked, “So what do you think?”

  I sat with my eyes closed while tasting the moist and all so well-seasoned chicken. Charles said he could cook. I just had no idea he cooked so well.

  “Hmmm...” was all I could say at the moment. After I swallowed, “Oh my goodness! This is just amazing. You must really love to cook.”

  “I do,” he said. “For someone who really appreciates it.”

  “Oh boy, do I?” I smiled. “How did you learn to cook so well? From your mom?” I asked.

  Charles laughed and shook his head. “No, my mom was too busy running a law firm. She didn’t have time for cooking while running Dupree, Dupree and Walsh.”

  “Oh really,” I said. “I had no idea.”

  “Yes, my grandmother lived with us. At first she did most of the cooking and meal planning. My dad was the Chief of Surgery at Harlem Hospital,” he continued nonchalantly. “Between my mom and dad my Nanna had to do a lot of last minute “business” dinners for my parents’ clients or associates at the house. So she finally let my dad hire a full time cook. There was a lot of arguing back and forth but then she finally gave in. I don’t remember it being a smooth transition…Not for the new cook anyway,” Charles laughed. “Poor Sophie,” he said shaking his head.

  My fork stopped in midair. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me that your mom was a partner at a law firm and your dad was the Chief of Surgery for a large hospital in New York City?”

  “Yup,” Charles said taking a sip of wine.

  Well that explained Benedict High School I thought. “Where in Brooklyn did you say you were raised?” I said trying to be casual.

  “Oh Brooklyn Heights. About ready for dessert?” Charles asked clearing off our dinner plates from the table.

  What the…? I almost dropped my glass. I didn’t know much about Brooklyn but I knew about Brooklyn Heights, a very affluent area. I recently saw a listing for a brownstone in that area going for $13 million and that had been gutted for renovation. It was just an empty shell. That’s crazy. Charles’ family made my family look like paupers.

  Geez…What did I get myself into. Why would he be interested in me?

  A few minutes later Charles brought out the Crème Brule for dessert. The moment I tasted the decadent dessert it melted in my mouth. I quickly forgot about Charles’ pedigree and just concentrated on the delicious dessert and the wonderful company that was Charles…handsome, sweet and attentive. We shared crazy stories about the business. I don’t remember ever laughing so much. I was really enjoying his company.

  Then at one point a Miles Davis’ song “It Never Entered My Mind” came on. “Oh I love this song,” I said absentmindedly.

  “Do you?” Charles stood up and reached for my hand. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?” He said with a wink and an exaggerated bow.

  I immediately took my cloth napkin from my lap and placed it on the table. “Certainly Sir.” I let Charles pull me up and followed him into the living room in front of the fireplace. He took the remote from the mantel piece and turned up the music.

  At that moment Charles lifted my hand to his lips and kissed the back of my hand. He pulled my arms around his neck and then wrapped his arms around my waist. He pulled me close as we moved slowly to the music.

  As the one Miles Davis song slipped into John Coltrane’s “After the Rain” and then “The Very Thought of You” by Red Garland we kept dancing…holding each other tight. I have no idea how long we danced. It could have been days…I wouldn’t have noticed and certainly would not have cared.

  “I don’t know what you are doing to me Simone”, Charles whispered in my ear, “but I can do this all night.”

  “That’s funny,” I said whispering in his ear. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  With that Charles lifted my chin and parted my lips with his tongue. We had a deep and passionate kiss. I felt warm all over.

  Just as I was really getting into it Charles suddenly stopped the kiss and pushed me back a bit. I was so disappointed. Had I done something wrong? Was I being too aggressive? Too easy?

  “It’s getting late”, he said in a low voice. I looked around and saw that the fire had gone out as well as the candles near the couch.

  “Yea, I guess it is.” Suddenly feeling cold and self-conscious, “If you’d show me the guest room I’ll turn in.”

  “Let me show you around a bit first.”

  Grabbing my hand, he led me upstairs to the second floor of the apartment where he showed me his office. Not a piece of paper out of place. I can’t believe it. I actually met someone more anal then me. The cherry wood desk held a top of the line computer in front of a high back leather chair. On the wall behind the desk was a beautiful black and white picture of Dizzy Gillespie blowing his horn. Off to the side, sat a leather couch and a glass coffee table. On the wall over the couch hung a painting of what looked to be a Mardi Gras parade in New Orleans. With all the black and white in the office the painting was a burst of color.

  Next, he showed me the guest room with an adjoining bathroom. It was tastefully done. But where was my overnight bag?

  He then led me into the master bedroom. I loved it! There was a sitting area in front of a picture glass window with a wonderful view of the city, a king-sized four-poster bed and an electric fireplace. The en suite bathroom, with its Italian marble double vanities had a shower/steam room with multiple jets including a rain showerhead. In front of another picture glass window with a view of the city, sat a clawed foot tub built for two with a chandelier overhead. Wait. Did he get in my head somehow? This was my dream master en suite. The only thing missing was the wine frig.

  As I walked back into the bedroom I couldn’t resist walking over to the picture glass window near the bed to check out the view. The city lights were breathtaking, just as good as the views from the living room. I could already visualize the sunrise through the window. As I turned back to the bed wondering how it would look from that angle, I saw my overnight bag on the carpeted floor. I looked down at the bag and up at Charles. There was no denying the passion I saw filling his eyes.

  I walked over to him, slid my arms around his neck, and gave him a kiss filled with the passion I saw in him. Charles pulled me closer. I heard myself gasp. As our tongues met I felt like we were melting into each other. I began to pull away. Charles reluctantly loosened his grip and looked into my eyes.

  “Do you think it’s cool enough for a f
ire?” I said letting Charles know the fireplace wouldn’t be the only thing giving off heat in the room.

  “Tonight can be whatever you want it to be.” Charles turned and closed the bedroom door.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  The next morning after a shared shower, I found Charles in the kitchen making me applesauce pancakes with breakfast sausage links. Applesauce pancakes was something I hadn’t had since I was a child. It brought back cozy feelings. But the only cozy feeling I could think of was waking up in Charles’ arms while he spooned me from behind. It made me feel safe, secure, and wanted.