Ezekiel grimaced. “A wild guess…the fact that I’m not totally oblivious to the happenings in your life. I know that I practically threw you two together with the car gift.”
He stood. “I realize that you are conflicted, Phoebe. I understand it on some level. I am jealous as hell but I understand it. As I said before, the ball is in your court.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “Let's go home and get some sleep. Both of us have a lot to think about.”
Phoebe nodded dejectedly. “I am sorry for being a wet blanket and ruining your weekend.”
“Being with you this weekend isn't a ruinous thing.” His voice sounded raspy when he finally spoke.
Chapter Sixteen
When Ezekiel dropped her home on Sunday evening, he planted a kiss on her forehead.
“I will send over your clothes tomorrow,” he told her. “Sleep well tonight. I will call you.”
Phoebe stepped out of the car with her weekend bag and opened her gate. Charles was sitting on his verandah, looking out into the night. He was on his guitar, strumming it softly. She paused at her walkway. Waiting for him to acknowledge her but he continued playing, ignoring her.
She went into the house and put down her weekend bag. Her parents were watching television in the hall.
“How was it?” her mother looked up at her, smiling.
“Fine,” Phoebe said dejectedly.
Nishta frowned. “You spent the weekend in Cayman and it was just fine?”
Phoebe nodded. Her father was laying down in the long settee; he looked at her with a wealth of sadness in his deep brown eyes.
“I think,” he cleared his throat, “that a woman should not be with a man for profit. She should be with him for love through thick and thin.” He pointed his thumb at Nishta. “It is hell living with a woman who doesn’t love you for being you, and who nags you everyday to change yourself.”
He sat up straighter. “Don’t let her poison you Phoebe and make that man unhappy. No matter how rich or poor a man is, a marriage becomes a prison if you aren’t happy. In the process you too will be unhappy.”
“How dare you?” Nishta growled. “There has never been any thick but lots of thin in this marriage. I am sick and tired of you only thinking that we should be happy in this awful place without money and hardly any food. Struggling together is not attractive, and more so after twenty or more years.
You know what Phoebe,” Nishta spun around and looked at her, “poverty is not the only bad thing, it's lack of ambition. When you are with a man who is only content to do the same thing over and over with no reward, your life is doomed.”
Phoebe groaned. They would be at it all night after this. Her father was usually nag averse. He said nothing to upset Nishta, but tonight he must have been very upset to be this confrontational.
Phoebe sat on her bed. She could hear the faint strumming of the guitar next door, despite her mother's shouting and the television sounds.
She hauled on her tracksuit bottom and a tank top and folded with care the expensive maxi dress that she had worn back.
She suddenly felt hungry. She had picked at her food while at lunch with Ezekiel earlier. She hadn’t been relaxed or comfortable with him after Saturday night. He had looked pensive after they got home and Phoebe felt guilty because of it. She had gone to her room and sat on the balcony for hours, unable to sleep.
She wouldn’t dare go scrounging around in the kitchen now though. She didn’t want to be a part of her parents' argument.
Phoebe went onto the veranda and looked over at Charles' veranda and realized that she had never been over there. She knew it was his uncle's house and that his uncle worked in another parish and only visited occasionally.
She made up her mind to go over there, despite the hostility she could feel coming off Charles in waves.
When she approached the veranda she realized that the house was in much better condition than the one she lived in. It was in white and there was no peeling paint anywhere. Even the yard was better. The grass was actually green and looked well cared for.
“So the grass really is greener on the other side,” Phoebe said walking up to the veranda and sitting beside Charles on the steps.
He looked over at her; his eyes were glistening in the moonlight. “You should tell me,” he said taking off the guitar and setting it at his feet. “Where did you go this weekend with your rich lover?”
“He isn’t my lover,” Phoebe said through clenched teeth, “and you and I aren’t together. You have no right to ask me that.”
“Fair enough,” Charles nodded. “Would you consider my advice then, as a friend?”
Phoebe shrugged. “Go ahead.”
“Give him back his car, stop taking his gifts. Stop using him. They have a name for women like you.”
“Stop it!” Phoebe exclaimed weakly.
Just then Charles' friend, Howie, rode up on his bike.
“Hey Charlie, I got your order here.” He took a paper bag from out of his knapsack. “Oh, hi Phoebe.”
“Hey.” Phoebe waved. Charles went for his food and said goodbye to Howie.
“I was hungry,” he explained to Phoebe. “I haven’t eaten since you called and told me you were leaving the country. I just knew that you had gone off with that sugar daddy of yours and I couldn't bear to see the sight of food after that.”
He took out two burgers. “Want one?”
Phoebe was busy feeling all warm inside. She had thought about him too but she was not about to tell him that.
“It's chicken,” he said handing it to her.
“Oh thanks.” Phoebe took it from him eagerly. “I was feeling hungry, picked around my lunch.”
Charles snorted. “Must be your conscience acting over time.” He then bit into his burger.
He wolfed it down in the time that Phoebe took to eat half of hers and then he dug into the paper bag for fries.
“So, how was your foreign trip?” He asked, a jealous glint in his eye.
“I went to Cayman,” Phoebe replied enjoying her burger.
“Oh,” Charles grimaced. “Had sex on the beach?”
“Nooo,” Phoebe said, annoyed. “I told you already; I didn't have sex with him.”
“But you would have, if he pushed you,” Charles said knowingly. “You would have given up your prized virginity because he's rich and powerful and just what you have always fantasized about.”
Phoebe closed her eyes. Would she or wouldn't she? She probably would have. Ezekiel's kiss was electrifying. There was a whole host of maturity and experience in that kiss. And he wanted to marry her. So in essence she would be sleeping with him because he had money and because she wanted the benefits of his wealth, just like bartering—my body, your house.
“That would make me a whore,” she whispered to Charles, putting down her burger between them. “Sex in exchange for money is...” her voice trailed away.
She had a lost look in her eyes. “My mother has been pushing me to whore out myself to the highest bidder, hasn't she?”
Charles took up the burger and asked. “Do you want this?”
“No.” Phoebe wiped her mouth on a napkin and watched as he wolfed it down.
“I think,” Charles said, “that it is convenient to blame your mother for your decisions, but if you haven't realized it yet, Phoebe, you are near a quarter of a century years old. Your decisions are yours. You are the Christian, not Nishta. Didn't you say that Nishta thought going to church was for idiots? I think you can shake her influence if you want to, but you don't want to.”
He wiped the corner of his mouth and then looked at her with a lopsided grin. “What do you want, Phoebe?”
Phoebe turned her confused eyes on him. “I don't want to be poor.”
“And does the opposite of poor have to be stinking rich?” Charles asked. “Can't it be just living comfortably? And does it have to involve a man? What about getting yourself out of poverty on your own merit?”
&nb
sp; “Whoa,” Phoebe stared at Charles, aghast. “Where is all of this coming from?”
“It is coming from someone,” Charles said seriously, “who genuinely wants to see you do well. It is not enough anymore to think that happiness is an outside job. I have feelings for you,” he turned her chin around and smirked, “and I want you to be as beautiful on the inside as you are without. I really want that.” He leaned toward her and kissed the tip of her nose .
Phoebe leaned into him and initiated a deep, soul-searching kiss that ended when they heard a car coming up the road.
Charles pulled away from her. “Maybe you should go. My self-control isn’t really good right now.”
Phoebe went back to her house, a trembling mass of sensations, and the biggest smile on her face.
Chapter Seventeen
She drove to work for the first time since getting her driver's license; it was a good feeling, and she was even going to meet Tanya for lunch. They hadn't seen each other for weeks and Tanya had called her last night after she had feverishly replayed the kiss in her head.
She had concluded that she and Charles had chemistry, very strong chemistry but chemistry did not mean love. It only meant that they were sexually compatible.
Many persons who married for sexual compatibility alone were now divorced. She personally knew a few of them. On the other hand, many persons who married for practicality were still married; she knew a few of those too.
Her whole family, by her mother's side, married for practicality. Her own grandparents were an arranged marriage. Her aunts all married men they were arranged to marry from birth.
Her mother was the only defiant one out of the lot, and look at her now—miserable and unhappy. There was something wrong with choosing a partner based on sexual compatibility. Phoebe had eventually worked out that that was probably what her mother, in her limited way, was telling her.
Phoebe went through work on autopilot until lunchtime when she met up with Tanya at Ballard's cafe. They served reasonably priced lunches to the surrounding business places and were a popular spot for young professionals to hang out. Tanya was already seated in a corner booth.
“Hey stranger,” she said when Phoebe sat down. “Are cell phones not a modern convenient way to call the people in your life?”
Phoebe looked at her friend and smirked. “Ditto.”
Tanya flushed. “Well, I've been busy lately. I have lots going on. My mother is pregnant.”
Phoebe whistled. “Isn't she like in her fifties?”
“Nope,” Tanya said, looking cornered, “she's in her early forties. My mother had me when she was a teenager.”
“Ah,” Phoebe nodded. “So what has you so upset?”
“If I were to get married and have children in the next year or two, the relationships would be awkward.”
Phoebe laughed. “It won't matter, trust me. I wish I had a brother or sister, then my mother wouldn’t be so invested in me.”
Tanya shuddered. “This means I’m not going to be an only child anymore. I won't be my Daddy's little girl anymore. Suppose the baby is a girl?”
Phoebe laughed. “You are too old to be Daddy's little girl.”
Tanya grinned. “I'll always be my Daddy's girl! Hope the new addition is a boy though.”
They ordered lunch—Tanya, her regular, jerk chicken burger, and Phoebe, her regular, red peas soup. They never changed their orders when they have lunch together and they looked at each other and smiled.
“So what's up with you?”
“I’m seeing two guys.” Phoebe blurted out, looking around furtively.
“What?” Tanya asked, stunned, “which two?”
“Ezekiel Hoppings and Charles Black.”
“What in the world are you doing?” Tanya whispered.
“Help me, Tannie, please…” Phoebe sighed, “decide for me; put me out of my misery.”
“I thought Charles Black wasn't an option, he's poor. Then again I thought Ezekiel Hoppings wasn't an option either, he's ugly.”
“Forget that,” Phoebe said, looking pained. “I was naive and stupid to say those things. People shouldn't be judged solely on their looks and finances.”
Tanya opened her mouth in shock. “Who are you and what have you done to Phoebe?”
The waiter carried the food and there was a little pause as Tanya contemplated her friend.
“Stupid Phoebe is dead. New Phoebe is confused.” Phoebe took a sip of her soup.
Tanya looked at her burger and said, “I think I am in an alternate reality.”
“I’m serious.” Phoebe wiped her mouth delicately.
“Well, if you are serious let's tabulate the pros and cons.” Tanya rummaged in her bag and pulled out her notepad. It had the logo for the pharmacy where she worked as a pharmacist.
“Let's see,” She drew up two columns, Charles and Ezekiel. She scribbled pros and cons on each line.
“Okay, go.” She looked up at Phoebe with her notepad in hand and a quizzical look on her face; she looked like she was going to take a test.
Phoebe giggled. “Well, Charles is a Christian, handsome, charming, happy go lucky, always around, patient, kind, wise, sympathetic. Did I say handsome?”
“Yes.” Tanya scribbled rapidly under the pros for Charles.
“Cons, well he's not ambitious, he's poor, only owns a bike, too friendly and giving, loves his friends too much, finds a song to fit every situation and psychoanalyzes the daylights out of me.”
“Seriously.” Tanya stopped scribbling, “too many of those reasons are not cons.”
Phoebe shrugged. “Oh and under pros for Charles you can put very high sexual chemistry.”
Tanya put the notebook down and exhaled. “Dish it out, sista! How do you know that?”
“When we kiss I can feel electricity,” Phoebe said dreamily.
Tanya laughed. “That's it—just kissing?”
Phoebe nodded.
“Well, let's go for pros with Ezekiel.”
“He's cultured and confident. Even with those scars he isn't self conscious. He's powerful, has a nice ‘bod’. He has a good sense of humor and is knowledgeable about almost everything. He reads widely; he's sympathetic and kind. He's rich, has the most amazing residences, bought me a car and a wardrobe full of clothes, which by the way can't hold in my closet at home. I may have to give you some. Oh, and he is heavily into charity work.”
Tanya stopped scribbling. “I say go for Ezekiel.”
“I haven't even told you the cons yet,” Phoebe said sipping on her soup.
“Okay, I guess it's fair,” Tanya said, taking up her notepad again. “But I see benefits for myself with this one so I am biased.”
“He has these ugly scars,” Phoebe said, “and that broken nose thing. His eyes are beautiful and caring though. Never before have I found a man's eyes to be that beautiful.”
Tanya cleared her throat. “That's too much to write. Continue with the cons.”
“He's fifteen years older than me. By the way, next month is my birthday. Don't forget this year.”
Tanya nodded. “I only forgot last year because I was doing my exams.”
“Fair enough. Oh, he's always flitting from one country to another, and busy all the time.”
Tanya scribbled on the paper, busy/no attention.
“And his friends are boring,” Phoebe rummaged in her bag, “and he's not a music lover. I realized since recently that I want a man who loves music.”
“A man who loves art, respects the spirit world and thinks with his heart…” Tanya started crooning India Arie's song.
“Well, art is a given for Ezekiel. I've seen some really nice pieces in his home. Guess who designed his Cayman house?”
Tanya put down the notepad and bit into her burger. “Cayman...hmm...Kelly Palmer.”
“How'd you know?” Phoebe asked.
“I think she designed his house in Jamaica too. I remember some talk about that couple years ago. People were clamoring
to find out more about him and they were hounding Kelly because she was in his intimate circle of friends.”
“Oh,” Phoebe said, “I hadn't noticed anything about him except that he isn’t attractive; he comes to church occasionally and sits at the back and slips out before the service is done.”
“Me too,” Tanya said. “Anyways, based on your list for both, I say choose the one which makes your heart beat the hardest. Who you can't imagine taking another breath if you can't see them, the one who appeals to both your mind and your body.”
“That's romantic rubbish,” Phoebe snorted, “but on a scale of sexual chemistry with Charles being the highest, I'd put Ezekiel not far behind. As a matter of fact, extremely close, almost a tie. And he does appeal to my mind.”
“You kissed him too?” Tanya squealed.
A piece of lettuce was on her front teeth and Phoebe laughed. “I guess I’m interesting now, huh?”
“You've always been interesting,” Tanya said. “Maybe you should introduce me to one of them. They both sound good on paper. I could take one off your hands and then your choice would be clear because frankly, Phoebe, your cons for both guys are not that bad.”
*****
Tanya was right, Phoebe concluded, but she didn't want to give up either of them at this point. She was packing up to leave for work when Ezekiel called her.
“Hey, Phoebe.”
“Hey,” Phoebe responded, feeling warm and awkward at the same time.
“Would you like to play hostess at a dinner party for me tomorrow evening? It is a small affair. I invited a few of my business associates and their wives to dinner. They are associated with a new charity I recently set up in Jamaica.”
“What?” Phoebe squealed, “I can't make small talk and pretend with strange people!” She sat down hard in her office chair.
“You'll do fine,” Ezekiel chuckled. “These are people who aren’t afraid to give back some of their wealth to the less fortunate. They are easy to talk to, trust me, and they have a deep passion for making their country better.”
Unholy Matrimony Page 9