“Zoë, oh my God! Look at you. You look great,” he said, after spotting me in the corner booth by the front window.
I ended my conversation and jumped up from the table, flinging my arms around his neck. This was the first time I’d seen him, since the reggae festival. I’d spoken to him on the phone a few times, but that was about it. He was practically living with Patrice and dropping hints about settling down and making everything official. I dropped my phone into my Kate Spade bag, grabbed my coffee and together, Phillip and I set off for his apartment in SoHo.
I’d called him the night before, letting him know I was in New York and he insisted we get together. More importantly, he asked about “my man” and wanted me to bring him along. Two-thirty in the afternoon was inconvenient, so we planned to meet over dinner. Both of them were on the Type A personality spectrum to varying degrees. I couldn’t wait to witness the interaction between the two. We would get fireworks or smoke but we were definitely going to get friction.
We entered a nondescript building through a door flanked by two store entrances and ‘decorated’ with enough graffiti tags to qualify as a prop for Breakdance. We walked down a long hallway to find an elevator and an atmosphere that bespoke money and success. I was getting a better idea of just how successful a doctor like Patrice was.
Wall sconces illuminated the passageway and highlighted framed posters of famous artwork. To say one couldn’t judge a book by its cover was an understatement, in this case. This place gave credence to an enigma I was fi indigenous to New York City: the façade of a building was not indicative of its interior.
I’d been inside the apartment of a music mogul client of Humphrey’s and it was above a record store. Its location never could have prepared me for the opulence I found within. It could have graced the pages of House Beautiful magazine or been visited by the staff of In Style. Where I came from, record company execs didn’t live above stores; immigrant families, who owned and operated them, did. But New York had plenty of those, too.
Patrice’s apartment had every kind of African artifact, utensil, mask or furniture one would ever have the fortune of owning. I immediately thought it odd that Phillip would be with someone with such an attachment to our heritage. It wasn’t that he did not appreciate the richness of our culture. He loved history but he was rather lukewarm in matters of Afrocentricity. Phillip would turn his head to admire a sister with a tight dress and flowing curls before he turned to admire one in a head wrap and a dashiki. It was hard to envision my brother at home amongst the abundance of masks, spears, and ankhs—all wrapped in the aroma of Black Love incense.
“Very ethnic, huh?” We were still close enough for him to read my thoughts.
“Quite, Big Brother.”
“Yeah, this is Patrice’s thing. I love her, so I just go with the flow.”
“Do you really?”
“Go with the flow? Yes, always.” “No. I mean, do you really love her?”
“I know, I said the “L” word and yes, I really do mean it.”
“You just don’t know how long I’ve prayed for you to fi somebody special and to leave all those hoochies alone.”
We had a good, hard laugh because we both knew a lot of his past associates were just that.
On a more serious note, he said, “Actually, it makes me think about the good ones I hurt and mistreated when they didn’t deserve it. I’m afraid my past will come back to haunt me when I’m the most vulnerable and take back this happiness I don’t deserve.”
“Where did that come from?”
“Guilt. I’ve done some dog shit in my life. You just don’t know. I love Patrice so much. If I lost her because of bad karma, I would be devastated.”
“You’re not going to lose her. I’m sure she loves you just the same, so stop worrying.”
“I’ve heard it said somewhere that God has a sick sense of humor. If that’s true, he’ll have a very big laugh when the joke’s on me.”
“Phillip is there any special reason for your brooding today?
This all seems to have a point I don’t get.”
“I was close to someone else. I even thought I might love her. But she was too clingy for my lifestyle then. I was ego-tripping, Zoë. I needed someone stronger than me, someone who wasn’t afraid to deny me everything. She gave me access to every part.”
“Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? When you truly love, it’s not about withholding.”
“I didn’t know how to truly love. Don’t you understand what I’m saying?”
“No. How long ago was this?”
“We met the first year I came to New York to teach.”
“I’ve never heard you speak of this girl.”
“I’m not going to talk to you about something I’m doing wrong, Sis. She was a student, but not mine. I knew I shouldn’t get involved, but I was drawn to her. You know the kind I used to chase. She had an air of innocence about her…a prime target for a wannabe player like me. She was pretty, innocent, and trusting. The last time I saw her was about two years ago.”
“Why now? That was a long time ago.”
“Last night, Patrice told me she wants to spend the rest of her life with me and I thought of all the skeletons in my closet that I’d have to bury deep. She is the biggest secret I’ve ever kept from anyone.”
“We already know you’ve had an overactive ‘social life’. What’s the big secret about that?”
“This is different, Zoë. She was pregnant with my child.”
It was something I wasn’t ready to hear. His words chilled me to my core.
“You have a child?” I felt my voice go up an entire decibel. “I don’t know if I have a child. I panicked when she told
me I was going to be a father. I wasn’t ready. I told her to get an abortion.”
“That’s one of the worst things a man can say to a woman.” “For two weeks, she kept begging me to change my mind, for
us to get married. When I insisted I wasn’t ready, she simply went away. She disappeared. I couldn’t find her no matter how hard I looked. And I did look for her.”
I tried my best to console my brother that day but more than anything, I think he needed me for my listening skills. No comment I made or advice I gave, satisfied him. So I shut up and let him do all the talking. I let him attempt to cleanse himself of his evil deeds. And I took note. I had no idea my brother had been running game up in New York, but I knew his conscience was kicking his ass. And it should have been. I was ashamed of what he’d done, but so was he. He was remorseful, but he needed to give the situation some closure. His biggest punishment was in not knowing. Was he a father or was he not? Did he need to tell Patrice everything or if he did, would she be appalled and walk out of his life? I’d never seen him so afraid of anything. At that time in his life, he should have been jubilant about finding the one special person. Instead, he was beating himself up about something he couldn’t change. He couldn’t undo what was already done.
The day I’d met with Phillip left me with a lot of unanswered questions about my relationship with Humphrey. Seeing as solid a man as my brother come undone at the thought of losing his love brought my own insecurities to the surface. I didn’t have a past to speak of, but I was more concerned about what kind of future was in store for Humphrey and me.
I was so happy, I felt like I was living somebody else’s life. The pain of loneliness that had driven me to tears and dampened my pillow at night had become but a memory. All I could conjure in my mind were the warm fuzzy feelings of contentment that accompanied Humphrey’s expressions of love. …his embracing me from behind to nuzzle my neck, applying lotion to every inch of my body, after a bath, reading Their Eyes Were Watching God and Richard Wright’s Haiku as we sat in my window seat in the rain. Our time together was all I ever dreamed it could be.
Everything about him seemed so perfect I didn’t want to be blinded by love, not to the extent it would cloud my judgment. I’d known quite a few who wer
e intoxicated by the bite of the love bug only to succumb to the sting of death. My sister was one such victim who’d experienced love’s sting through a syringe filled with heroin, seductively introduced by the love of her life.
I knew that wouldn’t happen to me. I just didn’t want to fall prey to a false sense of security nor did I want my relationship to meet an early demise.
Just how much did I know about Humphrey? I mean, really know. Other than that one revelation about the way his family had become broken and ultimately separated by the Atlantic Ocean, he had revealed nothing of himself. While I, on the hand, was an endless fount of information about my childhood, my family, my college years, my issues, my business, and everything that comprised my mess. The only experiences he shared with me were the ones happening in present day. We simply existed in the here and now. I tried to pretend it didn’t bother me, but it did.
Later that same night, I made love with him without using protection. I knew right away it was stupid, but the spontaneity was so damned sexy I couldn’t help myself. The slippery heat of our lovemaking was unparalleled, a sensation like none I’d ever known. Our mutually moaned finale voiced our agreement. I think it was an unconscious act of giving more of myself so I could get more of him in return. I was in over my head. But what could I do? I loved him. That realization outweighed all logic. When it came to him, my thinking was done with my heart.
“Zoë, let’s have a baby.”
Lying there in the afterglow of connubial bliss, I could feel where that idea was coming from. Our love was beautiful, our joy complete. However, he was completely unaware of its impact on me, in the wake of my brother’s shocking disclosure. The thought of walking around with a part of him growing inside of me was too overwhelming. The timing wasn’t right. My thoughts went immediately to Phillip and his mystery woman. Is that how it all started?
“You would be the perfect mum, you know,” he purred in perfect Cockney.
He rubbed my belly and kissed my lips looking deeply into my eyes.
“My son could be growing inside you right now.” “Don’t say that.”
His smile was a tease.
“Didn’t you feel how intense that sex was?”
“Of course,” I said and noticed then how serious his tone had become, as if the intensity of the sex would guarantee conception.
“So, it’s possible, right?” “I don’t think so.”
“How could you be so sure? You’re not using anything, are you?”
“Of course. Do you think I’d be careless enough not to?”
“I don’t believe in birth control.” He abruptly sat up in the bed and demanded to know what on earth we were using condoms for, if I were on the Pill.
Initially, I thought he was joking, but the intensity in his dark eyes told me otherwise.
“Humphrey, who in this day and time would be so thoughtless as to pursue a sexual relationship with someone without the practice of safe sex?”
“I was your first. Doesn’t that entitle me to certain privileges in our sex life, like not having to wrap it up?”
“I’m not your first, Humphrey. Doesn’t that require me to be cautious?”
“I didn’t know you doubted me.”
With that he got up and left me sitting in the middle of the bed with this issue of mistrust hanging in the air. His disregard for precaution in our sex life left me stunned. I didn’t realize we weren’t on the same page. In fact, he was so far off my page, he was virtually studying from a different book.
Too many minutes passed before he re-entered the room. He walked straight over to the bed where I was still sitting, hugging my knees to my chest, and waiting for his next word or move.
“I know you have this really big desire for perfection. You want the perfect relationship, the perfect family, the perfect life. Well, so do I.”
His mood was the complete opposite.
“No. let me finish,” he stopped me at my first sign of protest. “I already know that you’re the person I want to make my family with. That in itself will make it perfect. Is that feeling mutual?”
“Of course, it is. You’re missing the point, Humphrey. Before today, we’ve never even discussed children or the desire to have them. You caught me off guard.”
He pulled me over to the side of the bed where he was now kneeling and rested his head in my lap. I think I knew at that moment, I would let him have his way.
“How about we start with this?”
When I looked down at him, he was holding an open ring box with an emerald cut diamond in a platinum setting, winking back at me from a bed of blue velvet.
“Marry me?”
The love I felt for him was running over, my cup was so full. My silence probably scared him, but he had no way of knowing how my insides were quaking. I wanted to make sure the right words expressed my feelings. The way he was looking at me, so vulnerably yet so sincere, made me want to always remember that moment. Because in that moment, I knew he truly loved me. But I would be lying to myself, if I said the timeline didn’t matter. In reality, it was moving along, the way he’d predicted.
“I told you right from the start, you’re the one I want.”
“I know. I want you too.” “Trust me.”
“Yes, I’ll marry you.”
He kissed my lips as tears threatened to spill from my eyes and slid that gorgeous ring onto my finger. There was no turning back. We were defying the odds. No plane crash. No terrorist attack. I was getting married.
Chapter Thirteen
“Ma, Humphrey has asked me to marry him.”
“And you said what?”
“I said yes.”
I’d gone home to Baltimore so I could tell her in person. I couldn’t dare tell my mother something like that over the phone. I extended my left hand to proudly display my engagement ring. Her expression was guarded. As a matter of fact, she didn’t even flinch.
“You’re not saying yes just because you’ve been asked, are you?” “You think I’m desperate and I’ll accept an offer from the first bidder? Of course not.”
“I’m just worried about you Zoë. I know you were concerned about never finding anyone and it’s only been a few months since we’ve known anything about Humphrey.”
I knew a lecture was coming.
“Look. You started dating this man so secretly. Then you up and followed him to New York and you practically moved in with him. I’ll admit he sounds very charming, but it’s so unlike you, Baby.”
“I love him, Ma. Honest, I do. And if you could just see the way he looks at me, the way he is when he’s with me, you’d know he loves me too.”
“Are you sure about this, Zoë?” “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Okay then. You’re grown. But who’s going to tell your father?” “I’ll tell him tonight.”
“Good. Now let me get another look at that rock.” Then came the laughter and tears.
It had been weeks since I’d stepped foot in my brother’s house. I didn’t realize until I returned how much I missed it. I missed the coziness of it: the warm woods and the shuttered windows sans curtains, the book-lined living room wall and the chess board in the den still set up with an ongoing game. There was no pretense there. Everything was just as it seemed. Nothing was done for style-sake but rather looked good, while serving a purpose. Phillip had read every book, at least once. The chess game wasn’t for decoration either. Whenever he got the chance, he’d pick up where he left off. Before I’d managed to kill every one of his houseplants, they’d served as curtains at the living room windows. Phillip had thought out every minute detail of his house before the ink had dried on the settlement papers. He’d planned everything that would make this house a home and that’s exactly what it felt like: Home. It was the next best thing to my own.
My father had been retrieving the mail every Saturday from the post office and I had the lights on timers so the house would look lived in. Almost immediately, I fell into my usual routine. I put on the
kettle for tea, checked my phone messages, put on soothing music and called Michael.
“Well, I’ll be damned. You are still among the land of the living, huh?”
“I guess I deserved that. So I’ll let that slide this time.” “How the hell have you been, Zoë?”
“I’m doing just fine. And by the way, I’m home.” “Home. Well, where exactly might that be this month?”
His every word was dripping with sarcasm and it hurt a little. It brought me back to the reality of how I’d left so many issues unresolved when I’d dropped everything and gone to New York. Most of all, it made me feel guilty because the anger he was showing me was only masking an underlying sadness. I’d hurt Michael.
“Home is the place you can get to anytime you put your mind to it,” I offered trying to sound cheerful, but it came out as patronizing. “By the way, I’ll be here for a little while and I’d like to see you, when you get the chance.”
“Yeah, well I’ll call you back to let you know when that’ll be.” That sounded like never.
It was better for me to get off the phone and let it sink in that I was back in Baltimore, although it would only be for a short visit. To avoid a long distance relationship and a prolonged engagement, Humphrey and I decided I would move up to New York. His job was more stationary than mine. All I needed was my planner and the Internet and I could book events anywhere. I doubted Michael would see it that way. But I was back to tie up any loose ends and to proceed with the next phase of my life, as Mrs. Humphrey Pearson. That, in itself, was quite a lot for me to digest.
I went through the house opening windows to ventilate it. It had been closed-up and it smelled like it. I’d been gone most of the season and it was stuffy. When I got to my room, it evoked some very powerful emotion. That was the place where Humphrey and I had joined as one. It was where he gained entry into the very essence of me and I don’t mean physically. I’d settled into the house and had expected to do so indefinitely. When I thought of all the things that would be discarded for my move out of it, I felt ill.
Sometimes Love Page 9