Soul Caress

by Kim Shaw

  “Well, darling, I decided that since we can’t get you to come home for a while, where you belong, I’d have to come check on you. Now, how are you f—”

  Elmira stopped walking and talking at the same moment as she stared at Malik, who stood barefoot just outside of the doorway to Kennedy’s bedroom. The only thing he was wearing was his jeans. His chest was bare.

  “Hello, Mrs. Daniels. I’m Malik—”

  Malik took a step toward Elmira, extending his hand.

  “Kennedy, what is going on here?” Elmira said, turning abruptly away from Malik and facing her daughter.

  “Mom, I’d like you to meet my…my friend, Malik Crawford.”

  “Mrs. Daniels, it’s my pleasure,” Malik said, offering his hand again.

  Elmira considered Malik for a moment before stiffly accepting his hand and giving it a brief, perfunctory shake.

  “Young man…I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for why you’re in my daughter’s apartment, half-dressed at this hour in the morning and I’m equally sure that I don’t want to here it. Would you mind?”

  “Uh, yes, ma’am. Excuse me.”

  Malik glanced at Kennedy, who stood stock-still, clutching her bathrobe against her body. He wanted to cross the distance and go to her, put his arms around her and ease the tension that had her frozen like a deer in a pair of quickly approaching headlights. However, Elmira’s presence was commanding and her directive was not to be ignored. He turned and stepped back into the room, giving mother and daughter a few moments to talk.

  “Kennedy, who is that man?” Elmira demanded as soon as Malik had shut the door to the bedroom.

  “I told you, Mom, he’s a friend…a dear friend,” Kennedy answered.

  “Well, from the looks of things there’s a whole lot more than friendship going on here. Kennedy, how could you? How could you have a man sleeping up in here with you…in your condition?”

  “Condition? What condition, Mother? Oh, do you mean in my blindness? How dare I sleep with a man when I can’t even see?”

  Kennedy walked across the room and plopped down onto the sofa. She folded her hands across her chest like a defiant child.

  “Kennedy, that’s not what I meant.”

  “Isn’t it? Look, Mother, contrary to what you might think, my vision loss is not a condition. I don’t have a head cold or a toothache. I can’t see, Mother, and I may very well spend the rest of my life like this. Does that mean I should stop living?”

  “No, dear, that’s not at all what I meant,” Elmira said, crossing the room toward her daughter.

  Elmira stooped over in front of her, clasping Kennedy’s shoulders firmly.

  “Sweetheart, you have been through a trying ordeal. These past couple of months have been life-changing, I know that. That’s why it is impossible for me to believe that you are in the right state and presence of mind to be carrying on with some man.”

  “Mom, Malik isn’t just some man. He has been a very good friend to me. He’s the one who has helped me through this ordeal, as you put it. I don’t think I could have made it without him.”

  Elmira sat softly on the edge of the sofa next to her daughter.

  “Don’t be overdramatic, Kennedy. You have a family who loves you. You are the one who told us to stay away, to give you some space. We would have been here if you’d let us. You did not need to hook up with the first opportunistic hard body that came along—”

  “Mother, you will not disrespect my friend in my home. Now, if you have a problem with that, then perhaps you should just turn around and leave,” Kennedy said, inching to the left, away from her mother’s crudeness.

  Muppet’s ears perked up and he eyed Elmira with curiosity. He trotted over to where Kennedy sat on the sofa, sitting in front of her protectively. Elmira sighed, shaking her head slowly as she collected her thoughts. She chose her next words very carefully, attempting to respect her daughter’s wishes.

  “Kennedy, sweetie, I don’t want to argue with you. I just want to make sure that you’re all right. That’s all I came up here for. You’ve got to give me a little leeway. The last thing I expected to find was…well, I’m just surprised is all.”

  “Mother, can we not talk about this now?” Kennedy asked. “Malik?” she called.

  “Fine,” Elmira muttered.

  Malik opened the door and stepped into the living room. He was fully dressed and draped his jacket casually over his arm.

  “Yes, Kennedy?”

  “I was just thinking that it must be dinnertime by now. I’m starving. Why don’t the three of us go out for dinner? We don’t have to go far. How about the diner?”

  Kennedy smiled, but Malik saw through the mask of her pretty smile. She was distressed and his heart lurched as he acknowledged his role in that. Malik glanced at Elmira and there was no mask designed to hide her disdain. He had had no previous interaction with Elmira Daniels yet instinctively, he knew that she was not a woman he’d ever have any warm feelings for. The last thing in the world Malik wanted to do was to break bread with Kennedy’s mother. Yet, there was no mistaking the expectant look on Kennedy’s face. He could not say no to her.

  “Sounds good to me. Would you like me to get something out for you to wear?” he asked.

  Malik’s eyes remained trained on Elmira’s face. He derived a malicious pleasure in watching the flash of anger that passed across her elegant face at his question. It was obvious that she resented his presence in her daughter’s apartment and in her life. Without even knowing him or anything about him, she disliked him. Perhaps her reaction was the normal reaction of an overprotective parent. He was not naive enough to believe that rationale, even as his mind turned it over.

  Malik excused himself again, going back into the bedroom while Kennedy, led by Muppet, entered the bathroom. Malik retrieved a pair of jeans and sweater from her closet, undergarments from one of her dresser drawers, and took these items into the bathroom to her. He felt Elmira’s eyes on him each time he walked past her and he began to sweat under their intense glare.

  They left Muppet at home and Kennedy walked in between Malik and her mother, her right arm looped through his left. By the time the trio was seated at Coliseum Diner, a short walk away from Kennedy’s apartment, the air between them was thick with tension. Kennedy’s nervous chatter was like a dull knife that cut through ineffectively.

  “Kennedy, dear, have you gotten back in touch with Mr. Schenck? Those good people at Morgan Stanley are not going to hold your position forever, you know,” Elmira said after taking a sip of the effervescent mineral water she’d ordered.

  “Not yet, Mom,” Kennedy said, her answer short and low.

  “You’re going back to work?” Malik asked.

  He tried to keep his gaze from drifting back to Elmira, who he was certain wore a smug expression. From the moment they’d arrived at the diner, she had been trying to engage Kennedy in topics of conversation in which he would not be able to have input. Each time she would address Kennedy about situations or people he did not know, Kennedy would find a way to turn the discussion back around to neutral ground. Now, as he studied Kennedy’s face, he realized that there were things that she obviously did not wish to discuss with him, despite the fact that he’d begun to believe that they shared everything.

  “No…well, I’m not sure. My father and Mr. Schenck are on the alumni board of Harvard and they were talking a couple of weeks ago. Mr. Schenck sort of insinuated that he’s keeping a place for me at the company, but I don’t know—”

  “What’s not to know, Kennedy? Just because you’ve temporarily lost the use of your eyes does not mean that there’s anything wrong with your brain. You’ve earned your place at that company. Isn’t that right, Malik?” Elmira asked, turning her attention to Malik for the first time that evening.

  “Ma’am?” Malik asked, caught off guard by Elmira’s sudden interest in his opinion.

  “Don’t you think Kennedy deserves her place at Morgan
Stanley?”

  “Of course, if that’s what she wants.”

  “What do you mean if that’s what she wants? Certainly that’s what she wants. She’s worked hard to get where she is. I mean, it’s not easy being at the top of your class at Princeton and Georgetown universities. Hard work combined with determination is what it takes and all of her life my daughter has definitely shown that that’s what she’s made of.”

  Elmira’s haughty tone could not have been more apparent if she were talking about her own accomplishments. It was obvious that she saw Kennedy’s drive as a direct reflection on her and she took extreme pride in her daughter’s successes.

  “I won’t argue that. You should have seen the way she attacked her physical therapy sessions at Stillwater.”

  Malik felt a twinge of guilt after his comment as he reveled in the fact that he had been the only person Kennedy could stand to be around during those weeks at Stillwater. His statement had had the desired effect, piercing through Elmira’s steel frame and hitting her where she lived. She was momentarily stunned into silence. Just for a moment.

  “Malik, I do need to thank you for the care and concern you’ve shown my daughter. We do appreciate knowing that she’s had someone to rely on through these trying times.”

  “It was my pleasure. Like I said, she’s a tough cookie. She faced those daily workouts with a smile on her face, no matter how painful they became,” Malik said, his smile falling on Kennedy as he reached across the table and brushed the back of her hand lightly with two fingers.

  Kennedy smiled.

  “So, Malik, are you an entrepreneur or something? I mean, you must be your own boss, setting your hours if you were able to take so much time away from your job to be with Kennedy during her physical rehabilitation at Stillwater.”

  “No, Mrs. Daniels. I’m not my own boss…not yet, anyway. I happen to work at Stillwater.”

  “Oh? Well, that’s interesting,” Elmira said, perking up for the first time in her conversation with Malik.

  The meaning behind her upbeat tone was clear to Kennedy. It was obvious to her that Malik’s worth had just risen a few degrees under Elmira’s mistaken assumption that he was a doctor or administrator at Stillwater. Kennedy started to interject, but the waitress appeared with their meals.

  “Turkey club, on whole wheat toast?” she asked.

  “That’s mine. I trust there’s no mayonnaise and no cheese on this,” Elmira stated as she eyed the platter the waitress placed in front of her.

  “Just like you ordered, with a side of carrots and celery,” the young woman smiled indulgently. “And who’s having the turkey burger?”

  Malik raised two fingers into the air.

  “Okay. And that leaves grilled chicken breast on sourdough for you.”

  She placed the third platter in front of Kennedy. Malik reached over and turned the platter around. He poured a dollop of ketchup on the edge of the plate above the French fries.

  “Fries at twelve o’clock, salad at three,” he said.

  Elmira watched with raised eyebrows as he tended to her daughter.

  “Thank you.”

  “So, Malik, you were about to tell me what it is that you do at Stillwater,” Elmira said before placing a small piece of carrot between her lips.

  Kennedy dipped one of her French fries into the pool of ketchup, stuck in into her mouth and bent her head further toward her plate, knowing there was no avoiding the moment that was upon them.

  “I’m what you’d call a transporter. Official title is client transportation services. My job is to provide mobility to the clients, transporting them around the facility, assisting when needed in the therapy sessions and whatnot. Kennedy was one of the clients in my assigned station.”

  “You’re an orderly?” Elmira said, her voice dripping with disbelief.

  “Well, that’s not a term we use at Stillwater, but I guess the functions are the same.”

  There were several minutes of undisturbed silence as Elmira sipped her water and digested this news. She attempted to eat another bite of her club sandwich, but remarked suddenly that she had lost her appetite. Kennedy and Malik finished their meals quickly while Elmira chewed her lip.

  “Let me get this,” Malik said, reaching for his wallet after the waitress had placed the bill in the center of the table.

  “Nonsense, Malik. I’m sure you hadn’t planned on feeding me tonight,” Elmira said.

  Her meaning was not lost on anyone and immediately Malik bristled at her insinuation that he could not afford to pay.

  “I insist,” he said shortly, snatching the check from the table.

  He threw three bills onto the table, overpaying purposely, and rose.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  He helped Kennedy from her seat and guided her out of the diner. Elmira followed, remaining a few steps behind them all the way back to the duplex. At the front door of Kennedy’s apartment he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

  Kennedy wanted him to stay, but she wholeheartedly understood why he wouldn’t. She didn’t press him.

  “Mrs. Daniels, it was nice meeting you,” he said.

  He extended his hand toward Elmira and she took it tentatively. After a brief, limp shake, she withdrew. Malik walked away, his steps heavy with foreboding.

  Chapter 17

  “I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me about your plans to go back to work,” Malik said as he chopped tomatoes for the salad he was making.

  The night before, Malik had gone back to his apartment in a sour mood. Fortunately, Malcolm was not at home and he was able to sit and brood alone. He stared at the telephone off and on all evening, hoping that Kennedy would call him, yet knowing instinctively that she had her hands full. When she did call the next day, he’d already left for work. As he rolled a client down toward the lagoon for a morning stroll, his pager went off. The relief he felt at seeing her number was disturbing and he had to force himself to wait until his lunch break to call her back. Their conversation was brief, both of them apprehensive about what the other was feeling. She informed him that her mother had gone back to North Carolina on a morning flight and asked timidly if he would be coming over that evening. He replied that he would and ended the call unceremoniously.

  Elmira had drilled Kennedy for most of the night about Malik, until Kennedy finally snapped and demanded that she stay out of her affairs. She knew that she had not heard the end of it, and was certain that as soon as Elmira made it back home and rallied the troops, which meant her father, she’d swoop back in for another attack. In the meantime, Kennedy just wanted to enjoy her evenings with Malik and her nights curled up in his arms.

  “Malik, it’s really not that big of a deal. I’m going to be doing consulting work on a part-time basis. I’ll help with the training of new analysts, do some project planning, that sort of thing. It’s not like I’m able to do what I used to do before the accident.”

  “If it’s not that big of a deal, why didn’t you just tell me about it, then?”

  “Would you have supported me in that decision?” Kennedy asked.

  “Do you have to ask me that question?”

  “No, I suppose not. I’m sorry, baby. I should have told you about it. Forgive me?” Kennedy asked, moving closer to Malik.

  Malik lowered the cucumber he’d just picked up to the counter. He leaned down, kissing Kennedy gently on her lips.

  “You can make it up to me later,” he said suggestively, picking up the cucumber again.

  “Or…I could make it up to you right now,” Kennedy said as she unzipped the sweat jacket she was wearing, revealing a skimpy black lace bra.

  “Aaw, that’s so cute,” Kennedy exclaimed, her head thrown back in laughter.

  “He was the sweetest little thing standing there with his little chunky booty, naked as the day he was born,” Joyce Crawford said, her voice rising above the tingling laughter of the other
three women at the table.

  Kennedy was seated on the screened-in porch at Malik’s great-aunt’s house. It was a warm Saturday afternoon, about a week after Elmira’s impromptu visit. The talk that afternoon was of day camps, little league games and family barbeques in public parks. Malik’s family was warming and welcoming. Her time with them gave her an even clearer picture of Malik than she had before. They told her about what kind of boy the man had been. The nagging desire to be able to see him with her own eyes tugged at her, even as she told herself that it did not matter what he looked like. The man she had come to care for was beautiful in her eyes, in spirit and in flesh. Yet, there was still the human desire to confirm what she already knew to be true with her own eyes. She wanted her passion-filled dreams to have a face. She could not stop herself from wishing that she had met Malik before she’d lost her vision. It was a wish that she knew was as futile as it was shallow.

  Kennedy knew that one of the reasons why Elmira objected to her relationship with Malik was the color of his skin. Malik had once jokingly described himself to her as tall, dark and not too bad on the eyes. While Elmira had never come out and said it, Kennedy would bet her last dollar that Malik was a shade or two too brown for her tastes. As a child, Elmira had drilled into Kennedy’s head that marrying a man whose skin was too dark would be the equivalent of sending a woman’s soul into eternal damnation. Elmira Ellington Daniels, with skin the color of buttermilk, had married Joseph Daniels as much for his medium-brown complexion as for his promise as a cardiac surgeon. Their union had been arranged by their parents, who were longtime country club acquaintances. Elmira believed that it was impossible for a dark-skinned black man to make it in this world and for God’s sake, she would scold, like the time she caught eight-year-old Kennedy talking to the gardener’s dark-chocolate-skinned son, think about your children.

  As Kennedy grew older, becoming more well-read in subjects of cultural and historical development of her people, she realized that her family was guilty of perpetuating the ideology of their post-slavery ancestors who recognized that lighter skin came with some measure of acceptance from white folks. It angered her to think that no matter how many centuries elapsed, black people seemed to continue to be brainwashed into believing that somehow the degree of pigmentation in one’s skin made a person more or less black, more or less beautiful and more or less threatening. These were thoughts that she tossed around in her brain, but never shared with her parents because she did not believe they could ever understand the error of their ways. Even if her father, whose light-brown complexion was close to causing him to have failed the brown paper bag test himself, felt differently, he seemed to have assimilated quite well into the black bourgeoisie. Sometimes Kennedy wondered if he did, in fact, know how close he had come to not measuring up.