I was in denim overalls and bare feet with my hair in two plaits like Pippy Longstocking, holding a dust mop, and beating a rug on the front stoop, when he appeared again. I felt his approach, even before he came into view. I couldn’t remember ever sensing a presence that way. It was like heat and vibrant energy converging. I turned to find him placing his foot on the bottom step. He was a vision in a camel suede jacket holding a bouquet of flaming tulips in shades of orange and red.
“I know I should have called first, but I was right ‘round the corner.” My smile flashed across my face, before I had a chance to consider my appearance. But once I did, the abandon was gone. “You’re determined to see me looking a fright.” I pulled at the sides of the cropped tee beneath my overalls, more aware of the exposed flesh, now that there was someone else to see it. “I wanted to see you.”
“You should have called.” I tugged the plaits down over each ear to make sure they weren’t defying gravity.
“I’m sorry. Of course, you’re right. I just want a minute of your time.”
I remembered, too vividly, our last encounter in the same doorway and I didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.
“I guess a minute won’t hurt.”
My reticent words were a good front for a woman whose life had become a tornado over the past week, in preparation of seeing this man. It would have been laughable, if I were looking at it from the outside but I was in it, trying to find my footing and trying not to seem too eager, too fussy or too timid. They were confusing thoughts to balance.
“Don’t tell me, you don’t like tulips?” he asked in his silken voice.
I realized he had been standing there holding the flowers, while I’d fought with myself over how to receive him.
“Of course, I love tulips.”
What I didn’t love was how self-conscious I felt standing before him trying to calm my trembling hands. When he placed the flowers in them, he stilled my glance. His eyes were a little less intense than our previous encounters. The softness in them spoke to me, told me to be calm… and I tried.
“You look really cute right now,” he was successful in totally disarming me.
I knew how I really looked, which prompted me to laugh out loud.
“Nice try but I’m not gonna believe that one.” He declined the offer of coming inside.
“I told you I only wanted a minute and I think that has run out. I don’t want my welcome to expire.”
He kissed my cheek. With that, he made me long for a possibility that moments ago, I couldn’t even meet his eyes to accept.
“I’ll call you tomorrow night and we’ll decide how early to leave Saturday. Okay?”
“I thought it was noon.” “Well, I’ll call just because…”
I offered a trance-like nod. “Okay.”
I closed and locked the door, while the pull of his eyes held mine until he turned to leave for his hotel. All evening I was distracted by thoughts of my impending date.
Saturday morning arrived bright and clear with a little nip in the air, perfect weather for a drive to our nation’s capital, just right for my chance to turn fantasy into reality. The foliage, long fallen from most of the trees, carpeted the ground making it feel like a Thanksgiving postcard. I’d risen early from a restless sleep and had my coffee out in the courtyard while I read the morning news. The frosty exhalation of my warm breath meeting the brisk air punctuated every sip.
By the time I’d showered and done my hair and makeup, I was feeling confident and my nervousness had abated. I dressed comfortably in black bootleg pants, a cashmere v-neck, ballet flats and a shawl to keep the chill away. I’d made some great selections, during my recent shopping spree. My hair was brushed back into the sleek ponytail that was becoming my signature look and my makeup was kept to a minimum. My lips, lined and colored with a mahogany hued lipstick really stood out from a neutral base and tortoise shell sunglasses made my stylish and confident look complete.
Humphey rang the doorbell twenty minutes late, looking fresh in faded jeans, respectable Bass Weejuns and a blue argyle sweater, layered over a white tee. And he had the look of sheer male appreciation on his face, as he admired my womanly attributes.
“Good morning, Beautiful,” he greeted me.
He was winning me over a little every day with expressions that other people took for granted. Beautiful was not the way I was usually described. …smart, maybe…or ambitious and sometimes ‘really nice’…but never beautiful. I was sure he had no idea of the position he was gaining in my life just by his special attention. He had no idea of where I was coming from. If he had, he may have approached me in an entirely different manner. I was not used to such flattery.
“You’re late.”
“I guess that means I’ll have to keep you out longer to compensate. I won’t cheat you out of even one minute. Promise.” He looked down at his watch. “Make that twenty.” He winked.
“I’m going to hold you to that.” “You won’t have to.”
We set out on Interstate 295, Baltimore-Washington Parkway, in his older model hunter green Range Rover and even though the temperature was brisk, we rolled the windows down. It seemed we both loved the cooler weather and we both had a penchant for reggae music. He was playing one of my favorite artists, when I got in the car. The smooth crooning, with just enough roughness to hint at what lied beneath the surface of the exotic music, was perfect for the drive. And Humphrey was the perfect embodiment of all the sexiness the music conveyed. His choice was perfect.
We talked about everything, including other music interests, how we both enjoyed the artwork created during the Harlem Renaissance, and how we went to the movies alone in our spare time. It also turned out he was an ardent soccer player. I wondered if that was the reason for his athletic physique.
I was impressed with the way he maneuvered the circular streets of Washington and seemed to know where he was going. He told me that he spent a lot of summers in D.C. with family members during his college years and I told him about my brief stint as a commuter there. It was the fi time I didn’t have to give directions. As a result, I could actually sit back and admire the historical monuments and landmarks. When we caught sight of the White House, I thought of the record number of minorities who were working in powerful positions behind those doors and I was proud, especially of the POTUS.
After driving down Connecticut Avenue in Northwest D.C., past designer boutiques, we made our way to the gates of the National Zoo—the big secret Humphrey had been keeping on the way over. I hadn’t been there since the summer I’d worked as a camp counselor. He probably didn’t suspect it, but I was impressed. The simplicity stirred something in me.
I was reminded, with every touch of his hand against mine, that the early stage of dating was always the most intriguing, with both parties on their best behavior, a man and a woman yielding to an attraction neither one could explain. My heart beat faster when he smiled and I chose every comment carefully, too concerned with the impression I might be making. But it was very physical which made it easy to interpret. We were attracted to each other. That wasn’t hard to figure out.
We found a parking space not too far away from the entrance and he helped me down out of the truck into the sunshine. It was a little warmer than at home. I left my jacket and wrapped my shawl around my waist rather than my shoulders, while I stretched my legs, and welcomed the sun on my face.
Humphrey produced a picnic basket. “Full of gourmet goodies,” he claimed. And he also had an afghan for us to sit on. He’s good at this, I thought. I hoped to be able to keep up, as he led the conversation and our way through the park. He might have shown up late, but his thoughtfulness was right on time. We walked for several minutes with him doing most of the talking and me trying to understand the choppy flow of his Cockney accent, which was a bit different from his proper gentleman articulation. I was amused at the switch and I wondered which one was his authentic self. When we found a perfect shady spot clos
e to a tree, we looked around, surprised no one else had claimed the space.
I watched as he spread the crocheted coverlet on the grass and pulled two small pillows from his bag and a Bluetooth speaker. He planted the basket next to us and took my hand as I lowered to the ground.
“This is nice.” I commented about our surroundings. But truthfully, I was thinking of what was on the blanket, more than what surrounded it.
We were a romantic scene, a picture painted with vibrant colors, and nature serving as the perfect backdrop to a dream date. He removed items from the basket: cheese, assorted crackers, a container of hummus, olives, grapes and sparkling water with plastic goblets and melamine plates. He was painting the scene with masterful strokes.
“There was something about you the first day, Zoë,” he said, as if he sensed my unasked question of why he’d asked me out. “I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”
“What was it, the glare in my eyes as I spouted off at you or my hair that was in need of a stylist?” I laughed at the self- deprecation but my intention was serious. I really wanted to know. “I saw you come into the restaurant that afternoon and I knew
I had to seize the moment.”
He looked earnest, as he justified his pursuit of me, reassuring me of his good intentions.
“I was having a meeting and your face appeared on the telly,” he said. “As you were talking to the newswoman, I realized who you were. I guess I’m out with a celebrity, eh?”
“Hardly. You’re out with a hard-working woman who rarely gets to have times like this.”
“I will have to do something about that.”
I didn’t know how he intended to do that from almost three hundred miles away but I didn’t challenge his statement. It felt too good to stop imagining he meant it.
When I asked how his meeting had gone, he laughed it off, interrupting me.
“You have the most soulful eyes I’ve ever seen.” Something else he’d noticed in my interview, he said.
“You scare me with all this flattery.”
“Fear is not quite the feeling I was hoping for.”
He handed me a plate of the gourmet goodies he’d prepared for us.
I said, “Let me just be honest now and tell you I don’t date often.”
“That’s not a requirement for this date or for me.”
“That probably didn’t come out right. I’m not one of those women who’s used to trading empty compliments while working toward the end game with a man.”
He put his hand over mine on the blanket and served me that same potent smile from the day we met. “Relax... I’m not playing games. I just want to get to know you and I’m happily surprised that you were not what I expected when I knocked on your door.” He had my feelings all over the place. I felt like I was being given a test and performing poorly. Or being interviewed for a position and finding myself unqualified.
“This is only our first date and I don’t want to scare you. But I can tell you now, without a doubt, that this won’t be our last. You are the woman I’m going to marry. ”There was no trace of humor.
“And you are crazy, Humphrey.”
“Don’t ask me how I know, but I know. We’re a perfect match and I’m going to give you all the time in the world to realize that too,” he insisted.
I wanted to allow myself the luxury of believing that dream, if only for a moment, but it was crazy. He didn’t know me, nor I him. He had no way of knowing the bullshit I’d been fed over the years to the point where skepticism usually took precedence over any logic. And this wasn’t even logical. Yet, I hadn’t wanted anything so badly in a long, long time. I was convinced he would easily qualify as my Prince Charming, but I wasn’t prepared to explore the possibility of dreams really coming true, just in case mine didn’t.
Th e had only been a couple of men, I imagined myself spending real time with. But there was no track record, really, unless I included Keith, a habitual liar and Aaron who had been afraid of Phillip. I didn’t find out about the threats he’d made to the poor guy until much later on. There had been no chance of it advancing to anything near the stories in my head because he couldn’t stand up for himself and I couldn’t tolerate a wimp. Without much practice, I didn’t know how to shed my inhibitions and allow myself to really feel where Humphrey was coming from.
“You know that’s not a fair statement to make to a single woman these days with no marriage prospects and no kids.” I tried to make light of the moment. “Statistics show I have a greater chance of being killed in a plane crash than to walk down the aisle.” I also wanted to quiet that little voice inside my head again, telling me to take a chance, because it may not come my way again.
He laughed and turned to me. “It’s fair when that woman is my future wife and the mother of my kids.”
“That’s so mean to toy with me, like this.” I smiled, though I was serious.
“It’s only mean coming from men who like to taunt women with things they think they wanna hear.”
“Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?” “No.”
“Look, until a month ago, you were looking for some woman named Sheila and knocking on the wrong door and now, I’m supposed to believe I’m your one and only?“
“Yes. You want to know why?” “Sure. I’ll amuse you.”
“I have a list of priorities, when it comes to choosing my life partner. Just five things…”
I leaned back on my elbows, and braced myself for the load of bull he was going to spew from his enticing mouth. I tried to steer my thoughts away from the lushness of his lips, before he ruined the attraction with fabricated lines.
“Number One: She has to be beautiful.” I pursed my lips together and raised my brow.
“Yes. I have to behold her every day. She has to look good.
And you, my dear, look fine.”
A quick smile warmed my face and my lady parts.
“Number Two: She has to be smart.” He looked at me closely, while verbally marking off his wife qualifications and when he stated the second one, his gaze seemed to deepen. “I listened intently to your interview,” he said. “I know about your education, your awards and achievements. You’re a smart cookie.”
“Number Three: She has to be ambitious. Again, refer to television interview. I know you have only accomplished a fraction of what you’ve set out to do. I need someone who will complement me, in my goals too. We’re a perfect match. The curator and the planner. We could make beautiful plans together.
“Number Four: She has to love family. And it’s easy to tell you’re all about family, from protecting your brother from me to talking lovingly about your mum and dad. You’ll make a great mother. Don’t you want children?”
All I could do was nod my head. I was starting to get a little emotional. How could this man sum up my life so easily on our first date? I wondered if all of my prayers were being answered in one fell swoop. I’d asked God a long time ago for someone to champion me and make me feel special. Humphrey was tapped in to my heart’s desires and they were running freely from his mouth.
“And lastly, Number Five: She has to have faith.” I gave him a puzzled look.
“I’m not talking about what religion you want to follow. I’m talking about someone who can believe in us, someone who can dream with me, someone who knows deep down this is real.”
I sat up and looked at him, like it was my first time seeing him. I felt foolish for the tears glistening in my eyes, which he wiped away before they spilled over.
He said, “I want the fairy tale and I think you do too.”
His words sent a chill through me. He didn’t know anything about me, other than the nervous chatter I’d spilled on our date but he talked like he had listened in while I beseeched God to send me this man. He was so close to hitting the bullseye, it was unsettling.
“Take a chance with me. We can leap together.” I wished he didn’t sound so damned sexy.
I leaped into the magnetic fiel
d that enveloped him and felt the pull of his arms, as he turned me toward him. His lips touched mine for the first time and warmth spread through me with every movement of his mouth against mine. My eyes opened at the sound of voices approaching. Humphrey kissed my forehead right before breaking contact and we turned toward the sound. A little boy chasing a ball was headed quickly in our direction with what must’ve been his parents close behind, both yelling for him to “stop” and “come here.” The woman screeched, when he flung the ball right in our direction.
The boy of about five, gasped when Humphrey’s big hand snatched the ball out of mid-air, saving us from a collision.
“Sorry about that,” the father spoke, as he reached us. He was breathing hard and the mother stood off to the side looking a little embarrassed. He took his son by the hand, scolding him for not listening. But the child’s eyes continued to volley back and forth between Humphrey’s and the brightly striped ball still in his grip. Humphrey moved into a kneeling position, facing the child, as he handed him the ball.
“Hey, mate. You looking for this, eh?”
He was so cute, with bright brown eyes big enough to fall into, as he stood silently, nodding his head. When Humphrey handed him the ball, he broke into a broad smile, then took off again, his parents running behind him, yelling “stop.” We chuckled as they tried to catch up.
In the silence, our eyes followed them. Humphrey’s took on a look of longing. His sweet smile showed a tenderness that was both touching and unexpected. He reached his hand out for mine and I slid it into his upturned palm.
“Trust me,” he said. And I did.
His kiss was so soft and tender, lips so pliant, gently seeking, in such a contrast to his bold assertions. It made my heart open wide and let him come in. I guess I was just gullible, but when he kissed me, I knew we were a perfect match.
The days had followed our first date like pages flipping in a book. We’d gone to see a jazz quartet on Sunday at my father’s regular spot and to the movies on Monday. We stayed on the phone all night, like teenagers, while I babysat my two, young nephews so my brother and his wife could attend a party and on the night before he left, I cooked him dinner.
Sometimes Love Page 4