Sometimes Love

by Victoria Kennedy

  I cut the conversation with my mother short so I could get to their house on time. I pulled up in the driveway at the same time they arrived. They had tired and weary written all over them. I was so used to Michael’s sunny demeanor, it was hard to see him so forlorn. He walked straight into my arms and let me hold him. The younger Franklins seemed taken aback by their big brother’s vulnerability. He didn’t cry, but I could hear the unshed tears in his voice.

  “Thank you so much for coming.” “Where else would I be?”

  He hunched his shoulders helplessly with no explanation, like a child who had been asked why he’d done something wrong.

  Chapter Ten

  A steady stream of neighbors flocked to the Franklin household as soon as word got around that the children were back. They came tearfully, offering their condolences, their casseroles and cakes. These were Wesley’s and Maggie’s friends. The ones who’d volunteered during political campaigns and who’d donated baked goods to raise funds for the PTA. These were the people the Franklin children had known all their lives from their neighborhood in Hanlon Park. It seemed as if they were all playing out a bad dream. Usually it was Margaret who led the way in rallying around everyone else’s bad times, now it was her turn to garner the support, albeit posthumously. I was overwhelmed by the generosity.

  There were two older siblings in the Franklin clan. The oldest boy, Wesley Jr., lived in Toronto with his wife who was expecting their first child. The next son, Nicholas, was in the Marine Corp. stationed in Germany. They’d been spared the agony and the torment of pacing the hospital floor and watching her struggle for every last breath, the way Michael told me he had. The day after Christmas, Wes Jr. and Nicholas both arrived, both with the same intention of taking charge. In their quest to gain control over the situation, they tried to reduce Michael to a level commensurate with his age. I’d decided immediately upon seeing them again, that I disliked them both. I think the feeling was mutual.

  Michael and I spent the majority of that evening taking down all the decorations that had taken them a lifetime to collect. No one could bear to look at the beautiful reminders of Maggie or to allow themselves to dwell in the poignancy the decorations evoked. Th was her favorite time of year and everything served as a reminder of all the traditions she had established in the family’s holidays.

  Michael revealed the terrible guilt he felt for his mother’s accident. He blamed himself because it had been his idea for the Virginia trip. He’d missed his extended family and wanted to re- establish a connection for the New Year, a move to reclaim his roots. He’d planned the whole thing.

  He knew he wasn’t being reasonable. He knew it wasn’t actually his fault. He needed to blame it on something. He’d said that was the only way to justify such a terrible thing happening to his mother. She was so generous. It was a painful irony for her to die as the result of someone’s selfishness. It was hard for Michael and the rest of his family to accept.

  I took him out dancing that night to pulsating syncopating club music at the Paradox so that we could lose our cares in the crowd. He almost begged me to.

  “I need to think about nothing for a while, Zee and I know the music will take me there.”

  “Only if you’re sure.” “I’m sure. Let’s go.”

  Just a few weeks before, I had reminisced about the weekends I’d practically lived there. At least, I hadn’t had to stand in line for thirty minutes to get in, like I did in the old days. The drum and bass driven rhythm of the music encouraged us to keep moving and provided a sanctuary from the real issue at hand. For hours, we moved. We danced. We laughed. We were hypnotized and it was just what Michael needed. When we left, it was without the weight of the world on our shoulders and he had a smiling face, even if it didn’t light up his eyes.

  He stayed in Phillip’s room that night. He’d been taking care of me in one way or another for years, so it was my turn to reciprocate and it felt good. I followed my nighttime ritual of making tea, this time for two, and then helped him settle into Phillip’s bedroom, making the bed with fresh linen and finding the remote control for the television. Before I parted for my own room, he showed his gratitude by hugging me tight, both of us blinking back tears.

  When I returned from dropping him at home the next day, Humphrey called. It was the fi time since I’d left and my feelings were hurt. I had done nothing to warrant his childish behavior. I knew he was upset with me for leaving, but there was no logical basis for his attitude. How could he hold a grudge against me over something done so selflessly? He was being insensitive. I let the answering machine take the call, while I listened:

  “Zoë, this is Humphrey. Please call when you get this message. It’s very important.” Then he’d held the phone until the machine stopped recording.

  I heard the distress in his voice, but decided against calling him. It would have been best for us both, if I’d called with a much cooler head. Right then, I was too mad to talk. His important news would have to wait.

  My pre-New Year’s resolution was to get more exercise for many reasons, one of which being the increasing span of my hips, another being my inability to maneuver the New York streets without losing my breath. I changed into bike shorts and a tee shirt, then headed down to the basement armed with a club mix in my iPhone and ready to do battle on the treadmill. I was thankful Phillip had equipped the basement with an exercise room. I didn’t plan to take that luxury for granted. Because of it, I’d been able to let my neglected health club membership finally expire.

  The rest of my day was filled with phone calls regarding my next project. I had to stay in constant contact with people all day. I was able to secure a location for the desired dates for my jazz concert and to fi e out my budget. Most of the groundwork had been laid. The last step in the process was running everything by Michael for final approval, but that stage would wait until after the funeral the next day.

  Chapter Eleven

  Margaret Franklin was laid to rest on a blustery Monday morning, under a heavy gray sky that threatened to unleash a cold rain. At her graveside stood her grieving family, including the extended Southern family Michael longed for. Her husband was a mere shadow of the man who’d parted for Virginia one week before. They’d shared such a joyful life together. It would be hard to imagine Wesley Franklin without his beautiful Maggie. He used to say she was his good luck charm. He’d stood up to his family to have her, this woman from a country, unsophisticated background, and now she’d been snatched away too soon. The children consoled one another and their father chose to stand alone. He looked bitter and defeated. I stood back and watched from a distance.

  I caught Michael’s eye for just a second, my heart breaking at his attempt to be brave. I knew he was hurting more than I could know, but I managed to get a weak smile when I placed my hand over my heart to communicate my support. The tears I shed gave me a sense of unity in grieving with my friend. After the funeral, I watched him escort his grandmother to the car. His father announced the family would mourn in private and I respected his wishes, declining Michael’s invitation to join them. We were close but I wasn’t family or Michael’s significant other. I felt like an outsider during the intimate, family gathering.

  There were several messages waiting for me when I got home. Two were from Humphrey, one from my mother and another from a business acquaintance. None were emergencies so they would wait until I’d had a nap.

  I missed Humphrey and I was tired of pretending what happened in New York didn’t matter. We needed to talk things over and I would call him eventually. Crying had given me a headache and I was drained. I flopped down on the sofa to get some sleep.

  Later, the doorbell startled me. It must have started ringing just as I was dozing off. From the entranceway, I knew who it was before I opened the door. I could never mistake that silhouette for anyone else’s. I flung the door open and found myself being lifted off the floor into the circle of his arms.

  “Merry Christmas.”
r />   “Christmas is over! Put me down.”

  “It’s still Christmas for me. I got what I wanted, for once.” “What are you doing here, Humphrey?”

  “You would know that, if you’d returned my calls as I asked, but I guess you’re still angry with me.”

  His voice was calm, but I could tell he didn’t like the cold treatment.

  “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

  He was right. He was wrong and that required no response from me.

  “Zoë, I just had the worst Christmas of my life, simply because I didn’t want to share you with anyone. I should have done better. But you have to understand I’m only human. I get jealous and I can be a tad bit stubborn.”

  “You really think so?” I teased.

  He pulled me into his arms without answering that question. “How’s Michael?” I was surprised at his inquiry and he could tell.

  “Why do you look like that?”

  “I’m just shocked that you asked about Michael.”

  “Why? I feel sorry for the guy and I know you care about him. I just asked.”

  “His mother’s funeral was today so he’s not doing too good but I’m sure he’ll call me later.”

  “Do you think you’ll be able to talk?” “Why would I not be able to talk?”

  He gathered me against his chest and leaned in to let his kiss express his longing for me. His lips gently nibbled at mine, teasing me. I held onto his broad shoulders encouraging him to deepen the kiss, which he graciously obliged, kissing me as if he were drinking from the fountain of life. His tongue slowly caressed my mouth, sweeping across the roof and swirling a sensual pattern against my own tongue, until I was prompted to meet his hunger with my own.

  The way he held me in his arms, made me feel more wanted than I could ever remember yet there was a small knot of apprehension, as I realized the passion couldn’t stop there. In our desire, we were working toward fulfillment that could only be found in each other’s arms. I still wanted him to have me.

  He carried me to the sofa, and laid me down, his heaviness falling gracefully into place beside me. Lying on his side, propped upon his arm, he looked into my eyes and strummed my face with a rough but sensual touch. His gaze settled over me with adoration as he handled me like a priceless jewel.

  “No one has ever had this effect on me. You’re everything I want but if I’m not careful, I stand in danger of losing the sweetest woman I’ve ever known. I can’t let that happen. I just found you.” “I’m not going anywhere. I just want someone who knows what he wants, someone who knows that he wants me.” “If you doubt that, I’m not doing something right.” The look in his eyes was wistful.

  “It’s that bravado of mine. I was acting like I could do without you, when I really couldn’t. I’m sorry I made you wonder.”

  I kissed him eagerly, attempting to take the lead, but his hunger got the best of him. He reduced me to sighs and moans. Eventually, the volume of my ooh’s and ahh’s signaled he was skillfully discovering all of my pleasure zones. I never knew making love with our clothes on would arouse such feelings of desire. I feared our actual joining was going to be too much for me to take and I refused to resort to dry-humping on the couch like two lovesick teenagers.

  I let my trust preside and laid my hand in his as we climbed the stairs to my room. It was almost like going to meet my destiny. I knew my life was going to be changed forever.

  He undressed me with care, kissing every inch of skin, as it was exposed. I wanted the room completely dark, but he insisted on letting the yellow glow of my bedside lamp illuminate us, casting shadows on the wall and making the act seem larger than life. Indeed for me it was to be a defining moment. Losing one’s virginity wasn’t something that could be done more than once. But I was more concerned with my ability to please him than I was with the discomfort I feared.

  “So, I see that you’re a real ginger,” he said. When he bent to kiss my tensed belly, he remarked on the hue of my flaming red hair. Then his tongue swept across my sensitive belly-button and nervousness was replaced with lust, pure and simple.

  I wasn’t ashamed. It was uncanny that I would stand before this man so soon into our relationship, so willing to surrender myself and have no qualms about my decision.

  “I want you so much, Humphrey,” I said, breathlessly, as he wreaked havoc on the most sensitive parts of my body.

  “I want you too, Baby.”

  The anticipation had the nerves prickling in my skin. He bared himself and stood before me a specimen of masculine perfection, every muscle clearly defined and his manhood standing beautiful and proud. He propped me upon my assortment of pillows, then proceeded to intoxicate me with another of his wicked kisses, his tongue leaving no surface untouched. My legs were already parted to allow him full access and I knew there was no turning back.

  Mercifully, he moved slowly not even aware of the extent of my experience, or lack thereof. I was afraid of the unknown, but was convinced to experience it with him. He pushed into me, inching slowly, torturing me and when he thrust into me completely, I shrieked loudly.

  He pulled back to look into my eyes and paused at the tears glistening there.

  “You okay, Baby?”

  “I’m more than okay. I wanted you to be first.”

  “Damn Zoë,” he nearly yelled. “You’ve got to be kidding me.

  Please tell me this is not what I think it is.”

  I looked into his eyes and caressed the suddenly tense muscles of his back. “I’m ready for this.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s already done. Don’t stop now.” I urged him. “Please.” I pushed away the remnants of any reservations I had.

  He kissed me tenderly. I couldn’t tell who was trembling more. He resumed his position and I draped my arms around his neck. His hands worked magic while they roamed my most intimate parts, blazing a trail of fire wherever they touched me. I shed all inhibitions as we established a rhythm so addictive, I thought I would cry uncontrollably.

  Soon, my body was singing. A river of passion flowed from me as his manhood filled me. He grabbed onto my hips and whispered against my lips, “I love you.” He held me while the remnants of pain subsided and kissed away tears I wasn’t aware of shedding. He continued the addictive rhythm of nearly withdrawing, then fully sheathing himself in me, over and over again, until I was close to delirium from the pleasure it wrought. I held onto his muscular back while he danced with my tenderness, a slow dance of love. I acknowledged his lead, following his steady pace and gyrating moves until his thrusts deepened. His manhood touched a place of extreme pleasure, as I opened further still, granting access to the deepest part of me. Something was building that was bigger than either of us and together we worked toward it. What I didn’t know was that we were building an explosion the size of Mt. St. Helen and when it erupted, a sensation of liquid gold flowed through me like molten lava. Humphrey was holding me so tightly, all the time thrusting right through my eruption. Then he went suddenly still, belting out a groan that signaled an eruption of his own, falling limply in my arms.

  A silence fell over us in what had to be bliss. I felt sated all the way down to my bones. I kissed his face and tasted tears on his cheeks. I was frightened at his unexpected display of emotion.

  While I pondered over this newest occurrence and what it could possibly mean, he pulled me in closer and laid his head on my breast. We drifted off to sleep with our legs and hearts intertwined.

  Chapter Twelve

  I was enjoying the power of turning a conquering lion into a purring kitten with the touch of my hands. Under his tutelage, I was becoming a master in the art of lovemaking.

  But Humphrey wasn’t my boy-toy. He was the man of my dreams. I was in love. There was no doubt.

  Humphrey had become an integral part of my life. I hated the idea of conducting a long distance romance, but I knew I wanted him. I was always planning the next time I would see him. His name was constantly on my lip
s. I was driving myself insane, as well as anyone else who would engage in conversation with me for more than ten minutes.

  In the meantime, Michael was complaining about my lack of assertion in acquiring new projects, but acquisitions were his part of our business. The calendar was clear for two months and he was ready to push the panic button. The truth of the matter was he had practically gone underground after his mother’s death and become incommunicado. Yet with the arrival of spring, he was bursting out of his cocoon and so was I. He was coming back into the world and I was just discovering a whole new one. I wouldn’t lose sight of my business agenda, but I was still determined to enjoy my new life.

  “I think I’m lost,” I yelled into my phone, trying to compete with the din of Manhattan traffic.

  “What street are you on, Zoë?”

  I had to plug up my other ear to hear Phillip over the noise. “I’m standing in front of the movie theater on 23rd.”

  “Go across the street to the donut shop and order some coffee or something. I’ll be right there.”

  I was standing on a street corner in New York trying to find my way to a lunch date with Phillip. I knew how to get from the train to Humphrey’s and I’d found my way around his Brooklyn neighborhood pretty well. A couple of times, I’d remained there when he’d gone to work in Manhattan. It was then I’d given in to my curiosity and gathered up the nerve to venture out, walking across the campus of Pratt Institute or sitting in the park at Fort Green to watch the young brothers shoot some hoops. I was charting new territory and enjoying it. The third time, I brought my camera to see if my lens could capture all the images of Brooklyn life the way I perceived them.

  A transformation began taking place. My appearance was changing more every day. I’d cut a few inches off my hair and was once again, wearing it in its naturally crinkly state. To reward myself for the countless crunches I suffered through in my now regular workouts, I’d wear a cropped ‘Nature Girl’ tee shirt showing-off my more defined abs. By the time Phillip made it to where I was, I was already on the phone to Humphrey giving details of how I’d gotten off the train at the wrong subway stop— again.