by Jewel Daniel
"She said something about my weight, didn't she?" Tamara questioned, glancing sideways at him.
He hesitated before answering. He knew "she" was the lady at the bar. "Yes."
He gently caressed her hand as they sauntered along the water's edge. "I know you're uncomfortable about your weight and shallow people cannot fathom us being together. But I couldn't care less what people think about our relationship."
They walked along the deserted beach until they came to a crooked almond tree with low-hanging branches. A few fishing boats, no bigger than canoes were pulled up on shore nearby; some still had nets in them. Kwabena sat on a low branch and turned to face Tamara. The moonlight bathed her face in its silver glow. "You're beautiful."
Tamara stood between his outstretched legs, leaning against him. She looked into his deep brown eyes. Just standing so close to him took her breath away. She was happy. Kwabena made her happy.
Everything was silent except for the rhythmic lapping of the small waves on the shore and the few crickets and night creatures. Kwabena broke the silence, his deep baritone like music to her ears. "I have something for you-a belated Christmas gift, early New Year's present. It's in my pocket."
"I didn't get you anything," Tamara apologized as she fished the little velvet box out of his pocket. She turned it around in her hands before opening it. From the size of it she guessed it was earrings or a small necklace.
"That's ok. This is a gift for both of us," he said softly, his heart thumping wildly. He looked at her soft brown eyes glistening with tears as she removed the pearshaped diamond solitaire from its box. Slowly he eased himself off the branch, taking her hand in his and dropping to one knee.
"Tamara Fontaine, will you marry me-again?"
Tamara sniffled and smiled through tears, her face flushed. "Silly, we're already married!"
He slipped the ring on her finger and produced a wedding band. It was simple-no flash, no glitter; nothing like the five-thousand-dollar wedding set she had purchased for her marriage to Jared. He slipped it on her finger and raised himself to full height. "Now it's official. You're no longer Tamara Fontaine, but Mrs. Tamara Opoku."
"I like the sound of it," Tamara choked out quietly, tears of joy flowing from her eyes. She looked up at him and for the longest while they gazed lovingly into each other's eyes. "You know how to romance a woman's pants off don't you?" she said smiling.
He smiled. "Only the one I love. I love you, Tammy."
"I love you too, Ben," she breathed.
His lips covered hers in a passionate kiss that went on forever. His hands wandered over her exposed shoulders, caressing her. Tamara melted beneath his touch, her toes curling into the soft warm sand beneath her feet. He showered her face, neck and ears with tiny wet kisses, all the while whispering terms of endearment. Tamara's breath caught in her throat; her body tingled with desire as Kwabena undid the minute buttons on her blouse. The warm tropical air caressed her exposed skin. He unhooked her bra, kissing every bit of flesh he uncovered.
"What are you doing?" Tamara rasped, her entire body ablaze.
"Making love to my wife on a deserted beach, under the full moon," he whispered huskily, kissing her neck and untying the knot that secured her wrap-around skirt.
"What if someone sees us?"
Kwabena chuckled softly, sliding her panties down her legs, ignoring her question.
He released her long enough to remove the T-shirt and cotton slacks he wore. In one fluid motion he scooped her into his arms like a baby. Tamara squealed in delight. He walked, staggering in the soft sand to the water's edge. He waded in the water with her in his arms until he was chest deep, then released her. Tamara tried to stand, but could barely keep her head above the water.
She flipped onto her back, her bare breasts pointing up to the sky, and did the backstroke away from him, heading toward shallower waters. "Catch me if you can," she challenged.
Kwabena let out a deep, throaty laugh, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night. He lunged at her, and she swam away, laughing coquettishly. He dove under the water.
Tamara flipped herself upright in waist-deep water. It was silent all around. She looked around but saw no sign of Kwabena. The water was still, not a ripple or a bubble.
"Ben?" she called softly. Silence.
"Ben, where are you?" Silence.
She began to panic. "Kwabena Opoku, stop playing around. You're scaring me. Ben, please?"
Just then the calm surface of the water broke and Kwabena emerged from below, grabbing her by the waist. Tamara squealed aloud and laughed as he drew her into his arms, her body melting against his wet, hard chest. They kissed each other passionately, touching each other, stoking the fires of desire. Tamara wrapped her legs around his hips, letting him fill her, evoking the most intense pleasure Tamara had ever felt. Kwabena moaned, rocking back and forth, plunging deeper into her as they climbed to heights of pleasure. They allowed the shallow waves to wash them to the sandy banks of the shoreline. They rode each other until they had drunk their fill of love, climaxing together.
The stillness of the night was suddenly broken by a thunderous boom as the sky erupted in a kaleidoscope of lights and colors. Fireworks from a distant cruise ship announced the dawn of a new year. Church bells from on shore pealed loudly in the distance, welcoming the New Year.
Kwabena sighed, fulfilled, satiated, running his hands through Tamara's wet, sand-filled hair. "Happy New Year, my love."
"Happy New Year," Tamara whispered to her husband, snuggling against his naked body. It was the happiest night of her life. They were looking forward to this coming year and the rest of their lives. They had found passion, happiness and contentment in each other. They had found love.
Tamara walked into the basement and slammed Kwabena's laptop shut. The room was strewn with piles and piles of papers. A laser printer on a two-drawer wooden filing cabinet spat out page after page of text and colored diagrams. Since Kwabena moved into Tamara's bedroom, he had turned his basement bedroom into an office and did most of his work there when he was home. His bedroom furniture had been used to furnish a guest bedroom upstairs.
"No more working," Tamara demanded. "This is your birthday, and we are going to do something fun, whether you want to or not!" She stood facing him, arms akimbo as he sat on the futon, surrounded by papers.
It had been almost a month since they'd spent any quality time together. Kwabena had been working on a grant application-several, in fact-and two publications. It had kept him busy, working in the lab until late in the evenings, then writing at home until the wee hours of the morning. Sometimes he would crawl into bed just before dawn. Other times he just crashed on the futon in the basement. Even when they were together he was preoccupied, mentally writing the proposals or evaluating data. The deadlines were fast approaching.
Tamara wasn't surprised at his demeanor at all. She had seen Mike write grant proposals earlier that year. The normally easy-going, laid-back principal investigator, or PI as they all referred to him, was transformed into an angry, snapping monster. Mike harassed his postdocs for data, urging them to write up papers for publication. It was as if he were possessed. She came to understand that grants were the lifeblood of the labs. Without the funding, there could be no research, and the grants were extremely competitive. The more productive the labs were, the better the chances of the research being funded. And in this field, productivity was measured by the number of recent publications in peerreviewed scientific journals. Fortunately, Kwabena did not react like that, at least not at home. God knows what his postdocs and technicians endured in the lab.
Her action caught Kwabena off guard, and he looked up at her in surprise. Tamara certainly had some fire. Her sudden appearance, the way she took control was certainly a turn on. He shoved the computer from his lap and pulled her down on top of him.
The action caught her by surprise, and she let out a soft scream. She was always astonished at his strength. For a lean guy, he
certainly was strong. In a second he'd flipped her onto her back and pinned her to the futon, a mischievous smile on his face.
"I'm ready for fun, right here, right now. Whaddya say?" he teased, nibbling at her ears, his hand caressing her thigh.
"Not that kind of fun, you pervert," she replied blushing. She had a big surprise planned for him, a surprise she easily hid from him due to his preoccupation with work. "I was thinking more like going out, enjoying the nice spring weather."
"Oh, that kind of fun," he said in mock disappointment. He kissed her on her lips and helped her into a sitting position. "Tell you what, help me put these copies together, we'll go to FedEx and mail them out, and I'm all yours. You can do with me whatever comes to your imagination. The more erotic, the better."
She blushed. It had been months of fulfillment since the first time they made love to each other, and she still blushed anytime he talked like that. Kwabena looked at her cherry red neck and face and laughed inwardly. She really was something.
Together they assembled his grant application. Tamara was surprised to see his CV and the amount of publications he had coauthored. It was impressive. While looking at some of his preliminary data, she asked him, "Why did you analyze the data like that? You can't really draw any concrete conclusion from this as is."
He came over and looked at it. "You have a better suggestion?"
"Sure."
Together they sat down and reanalyzed the data. Tamara's way certainly made it easier to draw the conclusion he was presenting. Kwabena was impressed. He was seeing her in a new light. No wonder Mike had given her her own bioinformatics project.
"Why don't you go back to school and get your degree?" he asked her as they reprinted the pages and assembled the proposal.
"I will," she replied, packing the pages into a FedEx package. "I've begun taking a refresher course this semester and will officially enroll at UMD this coming fall."
It was midday when they joined the throngs of people enjoying the fresh spring day at the Mall in Washington, D.C. It was the height of the Cherry Blossom Festival and the cherry trees were in full bloom. Thousands of people were out celebrating this festival of nature. Bikers whizzed by, their hair blowing in the wind. Joggers ran past them. Families with children played in the warm April sun. Rollerbladers zipped by them. Tamara and Kwabena walked hand in hand around the Washington Monument and made their way along the reflecting pool toward the Lincoln Memorial.
It was the first time Kwabena had even noticed that spring had sprung. He'd been so focused on his grant writing. He was glad she insisted they go out. They took a brief tour of the Smithsonian and the Air and Space Museum. Both of them had been there numerous times, yet they were still enthralled by the exhibits.
They spread a blanket and had a picnic lunch along the Potomac River, in the shade of a blooming cherry tree. Kwabena inhaled deeply, reveling in the sweet smell of the flowers. He lay on his back, looking up at the blue skies with the sun playing peekaboo behind fluffy white clouds. Tamara sat beside him, looking down at the contented expression on his face.
"A penny for your thoughts," she said.
He smiled. "If I tell you my thoughts right at this moment, you would look like a cherry tomato."
Tamara chuckled.
Kwabena got up and held out a hand to her. "You up for a boat ride?"
They got on little paddleboats and rode down the Potomac River. They were laughing and having fun as they pedaled their boat toward the Jefferson Memorial. In the middle of the water, Kwabena stopped peddling. He reached over and kissed Tamara long and deep. She eagerly returned his kiss, oblivious to the many people on the river in boats like them. They didn't care. When they were together, nothing else mattered.
He whispered in her ear seductively, "When we get home, the things I will do to you will make a hooker blush."
"Mmmm..." she urged.
He whispered a graphic description to her, and she immediately blushed, her body tingling all over. Kwabena trailed his fingers along her reddened face and kissed her passionately. She closed her eyes and melted beneath his touch, both of them abandoning pedaling the boat. Suddenly there was a big thud. The boat had drifted with the river current and bumped into the wall adjacent to the Jefferson Memorial. They laughed and immediately resumed pedaling. This was a day they would remember for a long time to come.
Relaxed and content, Kwabena and Tamara returned home in the early evening. As they approached the house, Kwabena said, "Thanks for a wonderful birthay.
"It's not over, honey," she said. "I haven't given you your birthday gift yet."
Kwabena knew they were going to have a romantic dinner somewhere, then spend the rest of the night locked in each other's arms making delightful love. He suspected the gift was Tamara wrapped in dental floss, aka sexy lingerie. He opened the door, desiring to take her in his arms then and there. They could eat later.
"Surprise!" The lights flicked on, and crowds of Kwabena's friends shouted to him. Cameras flashed in his face, and music blasted from the stereo speakers.
Kwabena opened his mouth in disbelief. "When did you plan this?" He looked at Tamara. His friends, family and colleagues were all there celebrating his thirtysecond birthday.
Tamara just laughed. Mike came up and patted him on his back. Chris and Darlene, who had been dating steadily ever since Thanksgiving, had helped coordinate the party. All the food had been prepared by the African ladies right there in Tamara's kitchen. That was the reason for the Washington, D.C. outing. Becky had baked and decorated the birthday cake.
It was an enjoyable party with great food, lots of dancing, loud music, laughter and fun. The basement recreation room was turned into a dance floor. The den and foyer were the place for those wishing to engage in meaningful conversation, though they had to shout over the music. With Mike, Chris, Edebe and Darlene coordinating the guest list, it seemed everybody who knew Kwabena was there.
"Where's that husband of yours?" Becky asked Tamara. "We're ready to cut the cake."
Tamara looked at the beautifully decorated cake. It had Happy Birthday, Kwabena written in English, Twi and Akan, Kwabena's native languages. "It looks almost too beautiful to cut. I hope we've got pictures of it."
"Oh yes, we do. By the way, we are lighting all thirtytwo candles, so I hope he has good strong lungs. Now go find Ben. I'll try to get everyone to come upstairs."
Tamara went off looking for Kwabena. She shouldered her way around the dimly lit dance floor, getting swept up in what she could only describe as a line dance. Kwabena was nowhere to be found. She searched the den, foyer and living room, even checking in the library to see if he tried to get a moment away from the noise of the party. God knows she could do with a moment like that now. He wasn't there. Neither was he upstairs in the bedroom or the bathrooms.
She wandered into the sunroom. A few guests, seeking to hold conversations at normal voice levels were scattered about in the sunroom. She saw Chris and Darlene sitting on her wicker love seat, staring deep into each other's eyes, talking in hushed tones. He whispered something to her and she giggled. They looked happy together.
Observing them together, Tamara could tell that this relationship was more than Darlene's customary short flings. She recalled Darlene's frantic call the Saturday after Thanksgiving. She was supposed to meet him that night for a date and she'd misplaced his number. She then proceeded to question Tamara and Kwabena about Christopher. Christopher was equally enamored with Darlene. He couldn't stop talking about her and had inundated Kwabena with questions, describing her as "the one." Since then, they seemed inseparable.
When Tamara had returned from St. Lucia, Darlene had called her excited but scared. Christopher had invited her to Tanzania to meet his family. It was the first time any man had invited her to meet his family and she didn't know what to do. Consequently, Darlene had immersed herself in all things Tanzanian. She read and watched every documentary she could find about the country, the customs, the culture a
nd the people. When she returned from Tanzania last month, Chris and his family was all she could talk about. Darlene had finally found the love of her life.
Tamara sauntered over to them, smiling inwardly. She was happy that Darlene had finally found her knight in shining armor and Chris had found his fair damsel. "Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds," Tamara said, "but have you seen Ben?"
Neither of them had seen Kwabena.
Finally Tamara wandered out onto the deserted deck. Though it had been a warm day, the moment the sun set, the temperature plummeted. It was chilly. Tamara never expected to see anyone outside tonight, but there he was, at the farthest darkest corner, leaning against the railing talking to a medium-built woman with a beautiful figure in traditional African dress.
Tamara observed them for a moment before alerting them to her presence. They were standing in the same spot where Tamara and Kwabena had shared their first kiss six months ago. She felt a twinge of jealousy. Though she could hear snippets of their conversation, she could not understand a word. It was all done in a dialect of Twi. But looking at the way the woman stood with folded arms, her lips pouting, her head raised defiantly looking afar off, Tamara could tell that their conversation had been anything but casual.
Tamara cleared her throat loudly and announced, "Ahm, we're ready to cut the cake."
Kwabena looked up, momentarily startled, before regaining his usual unperturbed demeanor. The girl flipped her long braids and sashayed toward the door. As she passed Tamara, she gave her a cold stare and rolled her eyes.
Though Kwabena took Tamara's hand in his as they headed inside, Tamara had a sinking feeling that something was terribly wrong. For the first time since becoming intimate, she questioned his fidelity.
As they entered the noisy family room, Becky brought out the large cake with thirty-two lit candles. A jovial roar went up as everybody wished Kwabena happy birthday. Chris, Edebe and Mike surrounded him with well shaken bottles of champagne, waiting to pop the cork. Everyone else had a glass of champagne in hand ready to toast Kwabena's birthday.