Sometimes Love

by Victoria Kennedy

  People were sitting around on settees, chairs, and even a couple of sofas bathed in muted rose-colored lights, chatting and sipping. Most of the crowd was gathered toward the back even though the counter was off to the side. As I drew closer, I noticed the people in line were holding books and there was a young man sitting at a narrow table smiling, talking and writing in the books. I had ended up at a book signing.

  This is probably something I would be doing tonight, if I still lived here, I thought. I wanted to stay just to have something to do, but I felt out of place. There were no familiar faces in the crowd, no one I would talk to. I placed my order and left.

  I knew it was better to stick to my original plan and take some time to reflect on the real reason I wanted to get away from Humphrey and his family. I wasn’t sure I had the answer to that, but I needed the time alone to think about recent developments in our relationship—like the night Madonna disappeared. It still bothered me that he chose to stay away all night. He hadn’t called or anything to let me know something was wrong. I wondered if that was the way he would handle all difficult situations—by pushing me away.

  I stayed at the house all night and he never called. There was a sofa in the living room and the Bose was still on the bookshelf. I made myself as comfortable as I could, after calling my mother to make her aware of my plans. I still felt at home there, more than anywhere. It would probably be impossible to convince Humphrey to relocate. He already had a job he loved, a generous employer and an exciting life in New York. I knew he wouldn’t feel at home there the way I did.

  Lying still in the darkness with light jazz coaxing my thoughts, I let my mind wander freely, naturally. I was as honest to myself as I could be. And in my honesty I could admit that something was missing in my life. It was a something that gnawed at me like hunger, once I removed all the other things that fi led by thoughts every day and distracted me from my inner voice. I think it had been talking to me all along and I wouldn’t listen because it wasn’t saying what I wanted to hear.

  Humphrey isn’t going to be the great love of your life, it said. In all my happiness, I heard it and told it to shut up. Still being honest, I’d heard that message more than once.

  Loving him was exhausting me because it had become more about him than us. He would only open up so far to let me in, but he was all the way inside of me; he was on my brain, in my mind. He was in my heart, in every breath. He was in my blood. And it was becoming harder for me to carry him around.

  He said he loved me and I believed him. But I thought his love was contingent upon how complacent I could be as his partner. His kind of love had rendered me senseless like the sting of some exotic insect, dimming my brightness, sucking my blood and leaving his indelible mark as a badge of courage for being a willing victim, a guinea pig of sorts.

  I kept lying there, replaying all the scenes of our love drama, hoping it was not soon to become a tragedy. What we were really having was a whirlwind romance—with an engagement ring thrown in for good measure. This gorgeous man had turned my life around with a poof of intrigue and mystery, like a magician. Now the mysteriousness was giving way to puzzling signals that kept me on hold emotionally while presenting this picture-perfect couple.

  I don’t know what got into me that night or why I was questioning everything I held so dear. There was a fear I couldn’t explain. It made me want to bring it all to a screeching halt. “Take your time,” that little voice chided. That voice was starting to sound like Wes Franklin’s and Michael’s combined. Had they both been right about me moving too fast? Doubt became an uneasy feeling, creeping into my stomach and sitting like a big hard rock.

  I finally dozed off around three, tired from wrestling with emotions that didn’t want to behave. The next morning, I was on the phone with Trey finalizing the plans for his upcoming festival. There was only one week to go and he was concerned about my leaving town.

  He said, “Zoë, I really am sorry about Humphrey’s sister, but I need to know when you’ll be back in town. I’m freakin’ out, girl.” “Mr. DeWitt, it’s going to be alright. Everything is already in order. The band has been booked, the furniture is reserved, the lighting is organized, the caterers are a done deal and I’ve got the decorations covered. Don’t worry,” I assured him.

  “Thank you, Baby Girl. I’ve got folks coming in from Virginia and everywhere for this damn function and the shit has to be tight. Y’hear me?”

  “Loud and clear, Trey. Like I said, everything’s on schedule and I’ve got it under control. Call me, if you have any other concerns.”

  I loved talking to Trey because he was one of the most colorful characters I’d ever met. Besides that, he always put me in a great mood. With the smile still in my heart, I called Humphrey.

  “Hi, Honey,” I changed voices, speaking softly into the phone. “How are things going over there?”

  “Well, if you really wanted to know that, you would’ve stayed here to find out. Wouldn’t you?”

  I wasn’t prepared for the biting reply. The sharpness caused tears to prickle behind my eyelids, but I refused to let them drop. So much for the smile in my heart.

  “Did I catch you at a bad time, Humphrey?”

  “No. I’m just finishing what I started yesterday. It’s taking me longer than I expected because I ended up doing it alone. Just in case you’ve forgotten, my sister is missing. I’m trying to find clues that will help me track her down.”

  “You were throwing her things away like there’s no chance of her returning.”

  Humphrey held the phone for a few beats. “Did you want anything in particular?”

  It was my turn for a long pause. “I just got off the phone with Trey and he wants a meeting with me tomorrow. So I need to go back to New York tonight.”

  “It’s just as well that you return. I don’t think I’ll be good company for you right now.”

  “You’re not going with me?” “I need to be here.”

  “But…”

  “You can do this, Zoë. If you don’t feel comfortable taking the subway, get a cab to Brooklyn, when you get off the train.”

  “I’ll be there alone. It won’t feel right without you.”

  “It will be alright. This is your work and it’s important. You are more than capable.”

  “We could probably Skype or Face Time a meeting.” “Zoë…”

  “You’re right. I’m being a big baby.”

  “No you’re not. This is new for you but you can handle i t. Look… I’m sorry for being abrupt with you before, but I’m going through some things right now. I’ll try to have it all resolved by the time I come home.”

  “I love you, Humphrey. I want you to know that you can count on that always being true.”

  We were crazy in love. Or maybe I was just going a little crazy.

  My mother had something waiting for me back at her house. Michael had dropped off my laptop and she hadn’t told me before. I was surprised. I’d wanted to call him and ask for it, but was afraid of what kind of encounter it would become.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mention it sooner,” she said. “But I wasn’t sure if you and Michael should see each other just yet.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because you’re in love…with someone else. And that man is hurt. It’s written all over him. Bringing those two elements together would be like rubbing salt into a fresh wound.”

  “Ma, I don’t know what to do about that. These past couple of months have been hard on me, too. You know how close Michael and I were. Now he doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.” “No. You’ve got it all wrong. He wants to have everything to do with you; he just doesn’t want Humphrey in the picture.” “And you know this because…”

  “He told me so. That young man came in here and poured his heart out to me and I have to admit that I sympathized with him. Still do.”

  “But I don’t get it. I love Michael. And I love Humphrey. I love them both in two different ways.�
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  “You can’t have them both.”

  “It’s two different things. Michael and I are best friends.”

  She looked at me strangely for a minute as if she were choosing her next words carefully, took me by the shoulders and smiled. “I know you can be a little naïve, my dear. But are you trying to tell me you didn’t know that boy is in love with you?”

  “I know he loves me and that we’ve always shared a special bond…but in love? No. It never dawned on me.”

  “Everybody else could see it. Shoot, we all thought that the feelings were mutual between you. His parents and I used to joke about having grandkids in common one day.”

  I guess she cut me some slack because she finally stopped talking about Michael and me.

  “I’ve got to go back to New York today—one last meeting before the big day.”

  “Let me know what time your train is leaving so that I can have you at the station on time,” she said, as she left out the door to run errands. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  Unfortunately, Madonna’s disappearance had done terrible things to Humphrey’s psyche. Quickly, he’d begun fading into an introverted and calculating man. Th charm that had magnetically drawn me to him was gone. In its place was a methodical way of doing everything, as if he had to talk himself through performing even menial tasks, even making love. I felt like I’d been added to his list of duties.

  He’d devised this annoying schedule by which he ran his entire life and he would have run mine too, if I had allowed it. He’d become his own child whose life he had to construct and arrange activities for. On Mondays, he worked from home from 6a.m. to 8a.m. There was a t’ai chi class at the Presbyterian Church around the corner and that was from 8:30 to 10:00. Then he went into the city for some time alone. Often, they were times alone that lasted long into the night. Otherwise, he had a set day of the week to have his hair cut (Wednesday), a specific day to clip his nails (Saturday). And he was adamant that I respect his schedule. Lovemaking was perfunctory at best and usually performed to release the stress of the workweek…and we hadn’t relieved any stress in quite a while.

  I asked him if he wanted to seek professional help, maybe talk to someone who specialized in grief counseling and his response was almost violent.

  “I know what’s wrong with me, damn it and it can’t be fixed. Madonna didn’t just hurt me. She hurt everyone who ever cared about her and her mistakes have impacted us all.”

  He always talked like that when he spoke of his sister, in mysterious messages as if she’d lived an obscure life he was trying to keep secret. Our talks about her and his way of mourning never got anywhere. They only caused friction and a feeling of helplessness for me. As a result, I started retreating back into the dark shell in which he’d found me—before I knew anything of his touch, before he gave the good love that made me a beam of light.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Trey’s benefit had run smoothly right down to the fireworks. We ended the evening with his promise to send more work my way and his concern about Humphrey.

  He’d suggested a leave of absence from the gallery.

  Trey said, “I told him to go on take care of that situation ‘cause he hasn’t really been present in his work.”

  “I’m sorry. I had no idea.” I wondered how much of Humphrey’s work at home had been for the gallery and how much for the search for Madonna.

  “Your man is the silent brooding type, whenever things ain’t going his way. And this thing right now is a doozy.”

  “Yes it is.”

  “Just give him some space and let him work it out. Y’all are gonna be alright.

  I hoped he was right.

  I had nothing special lined up. My days were spent surfing the Internet, socializing in social media groups, reading romances and dreaming about the days when our love was new. But my evenings were starting to fill with social gatherings that served as networking opportunities. Some of Trey’s referrals were requiring my attendance at everything from cocktail sips to book release parties. I still hadn’t caught on to the Metro system but I had Uber down pat. It had gotten to the point where I was coming in to find Humphrey sitting in our bedroom in the dark. I was overwhelmed by the darkness but I was losing him and losing hope that everything would ever be the same again.

  I emptied the mailbox one Saturday morning and found the invitation to Phillip’s and Patrice’s July wedding. Until then, I’d forgotten how much time had passed since we last talked and getting his invitation as a total surprise, made me feel like we were strangers. It was plain to see that he meant business. It had only been a few months since he’d announced his engagement (both of us had) and they were right on schedule. Humphrey and I hadn’t set a date or even discussed an actual marriage. Our lives seemed to be on hold. I felt guilty about cutting myself off from Phillip, as I admired the simple yet elegant hand-woven paper embossed with imprinted cowrie shells and accented with letters in gold. It perfectly represented their African interests and sense of style. It was so them.

  Humphrey walked into the living room to find me fawning over the invitation. Before he could ask me anything, I asked him, “Where is this going, Humphrey?”

  “What this are you referring to?” he asked while sipping his usual morning tea.

  “You and me. Do you even know what we’re doing anymore?” “No. Frankly, I don’t.”

  “Well, do you know what you’d like us to be doing?”

  “Zoë, why are you asking me all these damn questions? And why are you crying?”

  “These are tears of joy. I just got an invitation to Phillip’s wedding and realized I haven’t talked to him since your big argument.”

  “You should be happy that you haven’t talked to him; he’s an asshole. And as far as what we’re doing, it’s called living. We get up every day, breath in and out, put one foot in front of the other and just live…until there is no more living to be done. If you need more than that right now, I don’t know what to tell you.”

  I ignored his rude comment about my brother. “What about everything in between? What about the things that make you want to get up every morning and actually enjoy living?”

  “Sometimes those things can fool you and make you feel like you will live forever. Especially when you love someone too much—that can kill you.”

  “Do you think you love me too much, Humphrey?” “Sometimes I wonder if I’ve ever really loved at all.”

  His words were like ice water sliding down my back, but the chill soon passed because somewhere deep inside me they hit a nerve. A nerve that had been twitching in me, worrying my conscience and disturbing my peace for quite a while. Maybe this relationship is a mistake, I thought.

  “We don’t need to squabble over essential things like love. That’s something that none of us can live without,” I said. “If we’re having second thoughts about what we mean to each other, maybe what we thought was love is really something else.”

  “You mean to tell me you’re having second thoughts?” he asked. “I feel like I don’t know you sometimes.”

  He went on talking about how needy I’d been from the start and how he hadn’t been prepared for that kind of dependency. It was obvious that he was grasping at straws and trying to come up with excuses to push me away.

  “I still remember the sound of your voice when I told you that Madonna’s baby was going to stay with us. It was pure selfishness. That’s the main reason I left her in D.C. with my mum because I didn’t want her to sense your rejection.”

  “Humphrey, you have lost your mind.”

  He was in my face before I could start another sentence. His expression was menacing and I was afraid.

  “Don’t you ever say that to me,” he said through clenched teeth. “That would be my father. He lost his mind. Madonna, she lost her mind. Not me.”

  “I don’t know you anymore, Humphrey. What happened to the man who enticed me here from my home with promises of love, romance
and security? I don’t feel safe with those assumptions anymore.”

  “Well, I’m sorry it’s not beautiful enough for you but this is real life. This is not created on a keyboard, ok?”

  “It doesn’t have to be beautiful, Humphrey but this is ugly. I didn’t fall for you to be insulted and threatened.”

  “I don’t think we’re going to make it,” he said. “I have too much love for you to ask you to endure that kind of hurt and disappointment.”

  “Really? I thought you weren’t sure if you’d ever loved me at all. I think you’ve made your point in wanting this relationship to be over and I’m relieved. It was starting to become harder to remember why I was here and you’ve just made it easier for me to leave.”

  I picked my keys up off the kitchen counter and started toward the door to walk off the tension and to have the option of talking in private.

  “I’ll be gone by the end of the week,” I said over my shoulder. “It’s only Monday.”

  “In that case, I’ll be gone tomorrow.”

  “Zoë…wait,” he said as I walked out the door. “Don’t leave like this.”

  I closed the door and ran down the stairs so he wouldn’t notice the tears running down my face. When I reached the downstairs, I walked out into a clear, warm day wiping my eyes with my shirtsleeve. I wanted to call someone so badly, but had no idea who to call. I wouldn’t want to worry my parents, Phillip would jump for joy, and Michael would think, “I told you so”, even if he didn’t say it.

  It was still early evening, still daylight as I walked around the neighborhood. The longer I walked, the better I felt. The deep cleansing breaths I inhaled and exhaled were clearing my head of all the words better left unsaid. Words that would have addressed the inconsistencies about his life and how I’d overlooked them. For one thing, his mother hadn’t left him as a child, he was taken from her; she told me with her own mouth. Trey told me he met Humphrey as a personal assistant to a record executive who fired him after he had an affair with the man’s wife. Initially, he had hired him because he was attracted to him, but soon found out Humphrey was arrow-straight with razor-sharp business acumen and an M.B.A to boot. He’d taken his business to another level and made them both a lot of money in the process.