I’d set the mood for a very romantic evening. I filled the house with candles and put fl wers throughout the downstairs. I played jazz by Shirley Horn, Natalie Cole and Billie Holiday. It was the music they’d played between sets Sunday night. I’d made a spicy shrimp and chicken and served a fruity white wine. I was on a mission to get my man and I was going to stake my claim that night. I just hoped the old adage was true about the stomach being the quickest way to a man’s heart. If there was a better way, I hoped to learn it that night.
There would be no doubt about my trust in him, when he left for New York, where he lived and worked as an art gallery director. His expertise in his field was what had brought him to Baltimore in the first place, as a consultant and board member of a new gallery opening in Station North. He told me he never imagined he would make a love connection on a routine job. His strong commitment so early in the relationship and his eagerness to proclaim it should have made me more cautious, but I was as tickled as a fifth-grader who’d been publicly acknowledged by her secret crush.
He showed up with more flowers and the unwelcome news that he wouldn’t be staying long. He had to meet with the dean of the art college who’d recommended him for the board position at the gallery. She hadn’t been available for their earlier scheduled meeting and so, our time together would be the casualty.
“I’m sorry, Babe. It really can’t be avoided.”
I said I understood even though I didn’t. And I didn’t know how to be that girlfriend who could be spontaneous when needed. I didn’t know how to be a girlfriend at all…but I had given my word. I trusted all would be well.
“Something smells great,” he said, handing me his jacket while loosening his tie. My disappointment was no match for the joy rising up within me at the sight of him, the nearness, and the smell of him. He had my senses crackling with stimulation. We spent the next hour sharing dinner, wine and hot stares across the table. The food on my plate could never satisfy the hunger created by his very presence.
“Come closer to me,” he asked, beckoning me with the crook of his finger.
He pushed his chair back from the table and turned it around, guiding me onto his lap.
“The meal was delicious. And your home is warm and lovely. But none of that comes anywhere near the feel of you in my hands and the taste of you on my lips.”
He cupped my face and held me in the perfect position to ply me with the most thorough kisses, his skilled tongue and knowing lips. Every move of his mouth over mine made me hot in levels of heat I’d never experienced.
And then, I kissed him back. I returned the moves he’d melted me with and took delight in the moans escaping the mouth that started the seduction. He pulled away with a groan.
“If we keep this up, I’ll never leave.” That pleased me. “Then don’t leave.”
“I wish I could stay but this meeting cannot be missed.”
The demand for the understanding girlfriend had returned and I was no more pleased about it than before, even less so. Before, I didn’t know he would have my nerve endings in an upheaval and desire flowing from every pore. I didn’t know his touch could command so much of my emotions. I fought back tears, at the thought of his leaving, knowing he was returning to New York the next day. I pushed myself to respond.
“I understand.”
“Be patient. I’m making it easier for us to be together.”
If it were possible to smile and sulk, simultaneously, that’s probably how I looked. When he left, I felt foolish for falling so hard, so fast. He had me and I didn’t want him to let me go.
Our dinner together was a fond memory, when we stood in the hotel garage next to his vehicle and he grasped the lapels of my coat, pulling me to him. He kissed my eyelids softly and then my nose before making his way to my waiting lips. I’d never kissed anyone with as much fervor as I did him at that moment.
He was holding my face in his hands while slowing our passion down to a gentler pace. There was an urgency and a yearning that couldn’t be satisfied, an insatiable desire. It was like I wanted to etch myself into his memory so he wouldn’t forget me. A tear slid down my cheek unchecked, which he wiped away with his thumb and pulled me into his broad chest, enveloping me in a fierce embrace. When I looked up into his handsome face, it was strained with pent-up emotion. “I promise, I’ll be back.”
“Yeah, sure. With all those gorgeous girls in New York, you’ll be dying to see me, right?” My fear of losing him made me lose the little bit of cool I’d controlled until that point. At the weirdest time, I thought of Michael and what he’d say about me crying over the new guy like this. I held back brand new tears and while they still glistened in my eyes, he continued to console me.
“You don’t know how long I’ve been looking for a woman like you, Zoë.” He said, “No woman I’ve met anywhere was ever as sweet as you. Remember Number Five on the list?”
I silently nodded and was gifted with one more tender peck. “There’s no way I’m ever going to let you go. Baby. Trust me.” And I did.
Chapter Seven
With all the chemistry crackling in the air around us, we made no acknowledgement of Thanksgiving, which was the next day. I’m sure it would’ve been much different, if I’d had to do anything other than show up as a guest. It would have had more relevance to my time and how it would be spent without him. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. It would have been too soon for family introductions, anyway. I don’t think everyone would’ve understood my adherence to Number Five on his list. They probably would think I’d come undone. Maybe he already had plans. I was taking too many liberties with assumptions, definitely not the kind of liberated woman I had in mind. But that didn’t make it feel any better that he could have plans to celebrate without me.
On Turkey Day, my mother was the perfect hostess, my father, the perfect host but there was no semblance of our regular meal. The was no sign of our fried bird, Grandma Roxy’s dinner rolls or my mother’s baked macaroni and cheese. The soul food restaurant had done well-enough with the food that included fancier versions of our traditional dishes: orange liquer in the sweet potatoes, lobster in the mac and cheese, barbecued ribs and cabbage combined with the kale. Of course, that wasn’t the only notable departure from our norm. Phillip’s absence hung over the gathering like a reminder that change was imminent. As an example, Maria looked healthy and relaxed, never once asking to be excused, like in the past. Her daughter, Chanel, enjoyed her attention all evening. My oldest brother E.J., his wife and sons were the model family. Clifford and I came alone like always. We were the youngest and the two most perpetually single. I had new hopes of changing that status for me.
The restaurant sent cheesecake and sweet potato pie. Our regular pound cake was another missing favorite, as were the two long games of Scrabble, which Clifford always won. He and Phillip were usually duking it out after dinner. Michael must’ve gotten wind of the change in menu. He always came for the pound cake and he always brought egg nog. One thing was left unchanged, however, everybody went to the annual football game between longtime rivaling high schools. All the males in the family attended and cheered for the same team, every year. It was a long-standing tradition. It was my chance to put an end to the holiday masquerading as Thanksgiving.
Chapter Eight
Humphrey didn’t come back as soon as I would have liked. There was a string of openings scheduled at his gallery. His work pace was hectic and frenzied and his undivided attention was required. When he was in the office, we could barely speak for ten uninterrupted minutes. When he was at home, he was exhausted and would call just to wish me goodnight before falling off to sleep. He had been gone for two weeks and I was becoming frustrated. I had promised myself I wouldn’t let my longing for him interfere with my own work. The play, was just a few days away.
Michael could tell something was up, but no one knew about Humphrey and I wasn’t ready to tell him that someone had taken my heart. I vowed to distract myself with work.
Until I knew I had his heart too, the business was going to serve as the vessel to carry me from one moment to the next, like from day into night and especially from the long night into morning. The memory of his touch was as fresh in my mind as the morning dew. I missed him like crazy and to ignore that would be to deny my very own heart had a beat.
Carmen Jones was our most successful event. Both performances were sold out. On opening night, the audience was filled with dignitaries from amongst the city’s best-known political figures. The former mayor, who was a close personal friend of the Franklin family, was there with his very fashionable wife; the head of the NAACP gave us his support and was accompanied by a once-popular and still-beautiful older actress. At our invitation, a few television and radio personalities attended. We knew we would need everybody’s support in future endeavors. They all gave the production their thumbs up.
The direction of the play had been innovative—an urban love story element had been added to the universal message of love and it appealed to the college students, especially. The storyline remained as timeless as ever. A love triangle always got attention and drew a crowd.
After the show, Michael and I went to the Daily Grind for coffee and a long talk. I needed the time to relax and unwind. We got our share of inquisitive stares, as we settled down to a table about two feet from the front window, against the wall. Among all the casually clad patrons, we really stood out. He made a striking figure in a designer tux, dark eyes sparkling, and I was dressed in a tea-length, black velour dress with a bateau neckline and a pearl choker with stud earrings to match. My hair was pulled back into an elegant chignon, courtesy of my sister-in-law Angie’s creative touch. Being out with him made me realize it had been too long, since I had some quiet time with the man I respected and admired more than I ever let on.
As usual, he took control, going over to the counter and ordering two cappuccinos and biscotti. I could tell he was mesmerizing the girl waiting on him because she was grinning so hard, I was afraid she’d lock her jaws. In the meantime, I appreciated the soothing atmosphere the popular coffeehouse offered. The décor was distinctly Moroccan with intricate scroll designs on the ceramic floor tiles and lanterns casting a golden glow over the mostly collegiate crowd converging from nearby colleges like Loyola, Notre Dame, Hopkins and Morgan State. There was sitar music playing softly in the background of the social chatter.
He was making his way back to our table, when I noticed a cute blond two tables over admiring his good looks. Her eyes met mine in a sheepish glance, then she smiled and looked away. She had no way of knowing I had no claim on the debonair Mr. Franklin. My heart was pining for a smooth talking, British New Yorker whose lips felt like heaven and whose words soothed my soul. Personally, I didn’t think Michael had ever relinquished his heart to any woman—just his body on numerous occasions.
The crowd started thinning out, as we celebrated our success and shared our hopes for the future, both in business and everyday life. I was hoping to do more small intimate soirees for the local glitterati, but had to make a bigger appeal than the more established, older event planners. Michael was vowing to become the area’s next big promoter of live entertainment. For the time being, we compared the good contacts we’d made that evening at the play and made some suggestions about where to go over the next year. Then Michael, my best friend, let me know how transparent I was and demanded the reason for the blues in my brown eyes.
I decided to ‘fess up and tell him about Humphrey. I told him about the whirlwind my life had been during the week we’d spent together and of how we met in the first place. I could tell by his facial expression, I wouldn’t have to wait very long for his opinion. “I think you’re moving too fast, Zee,” he said, using his nickname for me. “I know you’ve been lonely, but why so serious so fast?”
“What do you mean, you know I’ve been lonely?”
“I’m not blind. I’ve been around you, since we were 16. I know, okay?”
I didn’t dare tell him about Humphrey’s claim that he was going to make me his wife or about our tearful good-bye. I knew he’d think I’d lost my mind.
“Well, he’s so busy with work. I’m starting to feel unsure. I think if I saw him more…”
I looked for him to solve my problem like always.
“If you believe the guy, give him time to finish his work and when that’s done, see where it goes. You just met. There’s no rush is there?”
“No. No rush.” That was a nice safe answer to satisfy Michael.
He didn’t need to know just how desperate my need was.
He went on to explain how men weren’t usually as emotional about love as their female counterparts, unless they were in danger of losing them. I lacked the experience to argue his point, so I let it stand. But for the rest of the evening, he seemed distracted and even preoccupied with his phone.
I knew Humphrey and I had made a real connection and I couldn’t let my faith in him falter. He’d solicited my trust and I gave it willingly. I wouldn’t take it back. Number Five. Number Five. Number Five…I repeated the mantra to quiet the insecurity creeping into my fairy tale.
Michael drove me back to my house and we sat in the car making plans for the week. There wasn’t much on the schedule for upcoming events, at least not before the New Year. Christmas was just a couple of weeks away and he had plans to be in Virginia with his family. His maternal grandparents still lived there, along with several of his mother’s siblings and their extended families. His mother hadn’t maintained close ties to her family and he hoped this was a move to mend any torn relationships. He hadn’t been further south than Richmond, since he was a teenager and was understandably excited. We promised to see each other Tuesday night before he left, to exchange our gifts. He planted a kiss on my cheek.
“Let me tell you something. It would kill me to know some ungrateful man was breaking your heart.”
He didn’t know how much it would kill me.
He was looking straight ahead out the windshield while he spoke to me, as if he didn’t know he could look in my eyes. Michael was nervous and I wouldn’t have believed it, if I hadn’t seen it for myself.
“You are so special to me, Zee. Real friends don’t come along every day, not like you. There’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for you.”
“Michael, I do know.”
I moved to kiss his cheek and in a split second, he turned to kiss mine and caught my stunned lips in a quick peck. We jumped back simultaneously.
“Sorry,” we both mumbled in complete awkwardness.
The laugh started with me and he joined in, but it didn’t light up his face, as usual. I noticed, right before I ran to my front door. He watched as I let myself in, waving as he drove off. I flashed back to a teen-aged me who would’ve only dreamed of the close relationship I had with Michael. Before his act of kindness at sixteen, I was practically invisible to people like him. Though we had a very close relationship, it was still sometimes hard to believe how much he was in my corner.
The first thing I did was kick off my shoes, then turn on the Christmas lights. So far, our house was the only one showing a rush to celebrate the season. I attributed it to too much idle time and rampant thoughts of how Humphrey hadn’t come back for me. I went into the kitchen to put the teakettle on, then remembered I hadn’t checked the mailbox in a couple of days. There were mostly bills, and Christmas cards for Phillip, with a few for me. And there was a letter from Humphrey.
The allure of my evening cup of tea was lost in the nervousness of receiving this kind of communication from him. Why a letter? Why not call, like he used to? …like he hadn’t in days? I didn’t want to read about how the long distance thing wasn’t working and he didn’t want to break my heart but... Maybe, if I pretended I never received it, I could hold onto the fantasy of us for a little while longer and continue to trust the fairy tale he claimed to want as much as I. My hands shook, as I put Phillip’s mail away. The wail of the teakettle demanded my
attention, so I fixed my spiced orange tea and tried to settle down in the living room. But my mind couldn’t be at rest—not without knowing. I splashed some bourbon into my cup and prepared myself to face my future. This was one thing Michael couldn’t help me with and for once, I was glad. I’d never want him to know how foolish a twenty-seven year old woman could be. I nearly ripped the envelope in half trying to open it:
Dear Zoë, (might as well be “Dear John” )
I didn’t know your email address, and a phone call wouldn’t do, so here goes:
(I took a big gulp of my tepid tea and read on).
I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to court you. At least, not the kind of time you deserve.
(I forced myself to find out if this was where he would let me down easy). You don’t know how I yearn to hear your voice without the aid of an answering machine. I think about you every day. I only hope I’m on your mind half as much. Please, say you want to see me, as badly as I want to see you. If you do, please consider spending Christmas with me in New York. It’s magical here at Christmastime. I could use some of that spell you’ve cast on me. Please? Before you talk yourself out of it, you don’t need to bring anything. All I need is you.
As you can see, I’ve already provided your transportation. So no excuses, okay?
Ciao! Humphrey
There was a round-trip train ticket in the envelope and a sigh expelled from my lips that carried every bit of tension I’d been holding inside. My God, he wanted me.
Chapter Nine
I arrived in New York on a Wednesday afternoon. The train ride had been physically smooth, but mentally bumpy. Everyone close to me had questioned my sanity, when I announced I would be spending Christmas in New York. I offered no excuses. For the entire two hours, I replayed the reactions from my family members and Michael in my head, trying not to succumb to the guilt they’d all tried to lay on me. For once, I was taking some time for me. Only Michael knew it would be spent with Humphrey and he wasn’t thrilled about the distance I was traveling to be with a man that neither he nor anyone else had ever seen. However, I knew he would never betray my trust. My secret was safe. Besides, he was on his way to Virginia and soon to be surrounded by too many cousins to count or to care about what I was doing. He would be with too much family to concern himself with me.
Sometimes Love Page 5