You Make Me Wanna

by Nikki Rashan

  The display of affection was amusing to me and did wonders to temporarily ease the jitters in my stomach.

  Jeff accepted her snuggle and lightly kissed her forehead as I took my step in front of him. When I extended my hand for his, he tapped the back of it with his strong fingers.

  “Don’t even try it.” He laughed and took me in his arms and squeezed tightly, planting a kiss on my forehead, just as he did with Julie.

  Briefly I closed my eyes and relished in the gentle prickles left by his tapered five o’clock shadow.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d really come,” he said in my ear.

  “Well, thanks for the invite,” I whispered.

  Perhaps the interaction lasted longer than I realized. When Jeff released me from his cradle, both Asia and Julie gawked incredulously in our direction.

  Damn! It was just a hug. What did they expect? That we’d pretend we didn’t know each other? Fix this, Kyla. Now!

  I reached for Asia’s waist and gathered her in my right arm. “Jeff, Julie, this is Asia.” Should I have added my girlfriend to that, or was the hip-to-hip connection enough to convey who she was?

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Jeff, Julie,” Asia replied to my introduction.

  Julie stared at my hand resting on Asia’s hipbone, and a satisfied grin surfaced on her lips. “Likewise.”

  Jeff put on charm thicker than honey, caressing Asia’s hand in both of his. “So glad you could make it,” he said, peering at her.

  For once, the starstruck role seemed to reverse. Asia’s brunette skin flushed a crimson hue, and she looked to the floor bashfully. I was slightly tickled by Asia’s blushing face. Another part wondered why she was so taken. I mean, Jeff is a man. And she didn’t like men.

  Many weeks prior, on a quiet night while we watched a rented movie and ate stir-fry out of cartons with chopsticks, we agreed that neither she nor I felt the need to be with a man again. Ever. Neither of us was interested in being one of those lesbians that randomly slept with men here and there. At least, that’s what she told me then.

  Stop it, Kyla. Don’t start distrusting her again. Hell, it could have been worse. They could have been yelling and screaming at each other, causing a ruckus the event. Thank goodness, they appear to like each other.

  “See you both at the reception.” Jeff smiled at both of us before moving on to the next guest in line.

  “Kyla,” Kent said.

  Although his brother had moved on and was beginning a new life with someone else, I could feel Kent’s bitterness. He didn’t shake my hand. No “How are you?” or “Good to see you.”

  “Hi, Kent.” I wasn’t sure if I should say anything else or be just as frigid as he was, but I figured I’d give it a shot. “How are you?”

  When he looked at me like I had just called his mama out of her name, I stiffened. The icy exchange hadn’t gone without Jeff’s notice.

  “Come on, man.” Jeff patted Kent’s arm.

  “I’m good. You?”

  I could have said I had a massive brain tumor, five days to live, and my last dying wish was to see his brother get married, and I knew he wouldn’t care. “I’m fine,” I answered. “This is Asia.” I tilted my head in her direction.

  Asia almost looked paranoid, but Jeff eyed Kent once again and then sent Asia a soft smile.

  She smiled back and appeared to relax. “Nice to meet you, Kent,” she said.

  Kent looked back and forth from me to Asia, shaking his head. “Yeah, likewise.”

  After that brief interaction, we were relieved to move on to the parents. Not like I gave a damn about Julie’s hoitytoity mama and rich daddy.

  What I most feared was the reaction of Mr. and Mrs. Oldham, my lovely “near in-laws.” How did they feel about me now? After my breakup with Jeff, they were upset, to say the very least. With time, the anger subsided, and just prior to my move to Atlanta, Mrs. Oldham called to wish me well, assuring me it was best to allow time to learn about myself and experience life, rather than wind up in an unhappy marriage many years later. She wanted the best for her son, and if I couldn’t be that to him, it was better that we both move on.

  I wondered if she thought he’d found the best woman for him—a twenty-two-year-old recent college grad with no work history, no skills, other than organizing her walk-in closet, and a growing bank account, thanks to mom and dad. Who was I to talk though? During my stint as the woman in Jeff ‘s life, I was a yet to be graduate, part-time employee in a department store.

  A suffocating air of wealth engulfed my body when I approached the parents of the bride, Mr. and Mrs. Smarczyk. I wondered how a black woman felt about having the last name Smarczyk? I would’ve kept my maiden name.

  “How do you do? Thank you for coming,” Mrs. Smarczyk bellowed repeatedly to each guest in a deep, unflattering voice.

  Bleached teeth as luminous as a midnight snowfall shined behind her burgundy colored lipstick. Taut skin, compliments of those weekly facials, crinkled only slightly at the corners of her eyes, giving the illusion of a much younger woman, perhaps one just a few years older than me. Not waiting nor desiring a response to her question, she didn’t provide a chance for the guest to introduce himself or herself before moving on.

  Not like I minded. I could just imagine telling her my name, and her recognizing it and booming to her husband, “Look, darling, this is Kyla, Jeff’s gay ex-girlfriend. My, aren’t we happy she’s gay. Chuckle, chuckle.”

  Mr. Smarczyk was a bit more intimate, actually taking a brief moment to squeeze my hand upon shaking, as opposed to the short fingertip grasp from his wife. Maybe he had a thing for black women and was happy to be in a room full of them.

  During my exchange with the Smarczyks, I could feel Mr. Oldham’s eyes on me, carefully calculating and considering how to respond to our first encounter, his softhearted glance in my direction generating warmth.

  “It’s so good to see you,” Mr. Oldham said with a quick hug.

  An immediate lump in my throat surfaced as a result of his tender reception. “It’s great to see you too.”

  “How have you been?”

  “Wonderful. Thanks. And you?”

  “Couldn’t be better. Both my sons are settled down now. I’m feeling pretty good about that.”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond.

  Releasing me from his arms, he passed me on to his wife’s open hands.

  Taking mine in hers with a squeeze, she leaned forward and brushed my cheek with a light kiss. As she held my hands, she smiled generously at Asia. “You did the right thing,” she said, keenly aware of the passion I felt for the woman at my side.

  “Thank you,” I replied humbly.

  “See you later.” She patted my hand. “You too my dear,” she said to Asia.

  As we walked through the glass doors of the church, pounds of anxiety and stress melted from my body like butter atop freshly popped popcorn.

  “How are you doing?” Asia asked while we walked to the car.

  “Relieved! But I think I should ask how you’re doing, don’t you think?”

  Asia giggled and took hold of my hand. “At least now I know you have good taste in men and women.”

  “Yes, I do, or did rather.”

  “So what now? We don’t have to be to the reception for a few hours.”

  “I know something we can do,” I replied suggestively.

  “Not after all that time I spent on my hair. Oh, hell no.”

  “What? I know we’re not going through ‘lesbian bed death’ already, are we?”

  “You know I can’t resist you, sweetie. Just not right now. I need to look good later.”

  “Hmm, for who? Me? Or Jeff?” I laughed lightly.

  Asia’s expression hardened into a fiery scowl as we reached the car. “You better be playing with me, Kyla.”

  Damn. Why so defensive? “Yes, Asia, I was teasing. Don’t get mad,” I said when we both got into the car.

  “Okay, I’m just making su
re. I’m not thinking about your ex-man like that.”

  I muttered, “You could have fooled me.”

  “What was that?” she asked, fury dripping with each word.

  “Well, you looked a bit flustered back there to me.”

  “So now you think I want to fuck you and your man?”

  Now where in the hell was that shit coming from? “What are you talking about, Asia? And he’s not my man.”

  “I don’t like being accused of shit I’m not guilty of.”

  My remark had landed me in the middle of my first real argument with Asia, and a wicked side of her was emerging. “Asia, look,” I said, leaning back into the cold leather interior, “I wasn’t trying to upset you with what I said.”

  “You should’ve thought twice before opening your mouth then.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, trying again.

  A sigh resembling a whimper slipped from Asia’s lips, and she looked out of her window. “I wasn’t lusting after your ex-fiancé, Kyla. For a moment I was overwhelmed by the fact that it was you that could have so easily been standing next to him. He’s gorgeous, and he’s charming, and I can see why you used to love him. It threw me off for a minute, Ky. I couldn’t even look him in the eye, fearing I might see a bit of love he may still have for you. Maybe I overestimated my strength in this situation.”

  Shame on me for finding comfort in knowing I wasn’t the only insecure one with an overactive imagination. For relishing in a moment in which Asia released her weaknesses. For finding joy that for once, even if only in my mind, I held the upper hand.

  “I didn’t know you felt that way, Asia. I should have been more careful with what I said.”

  Turning to me with glistening eyes, she asked, “Are you sure this is what you want, Kyla?”

  Damn! How many times were we going to beat this horse? It was dead already. “Yes, Asia. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. This—you—you’re what I want, no one else and nothing else.”

  “Really?”

  We’d had this conversation three hours ago.

  Rather than speak another word, I ran my fingers through her smooth hair and took hold of her chin. Kissing her quivering lips reminded me of the feminine vulnerability I craved and desired. Her captivating aura, combined with her statuesque beauty, lured me at first sight. Now, mixed with this tender, delicate element, I found myself fully drowning in the waves of her essence.

  “You need not doubt from this moment forward that I’m dedicated to a life with you,” I professed for the umpteenth time.

  I vowed to myself to eliminate all actions that might contradict my commitment and love for her. I had found the ultimate love of my life and resolved to let go of my insecurities. A renewal of the confident Kyla was key to my relationship.

  The drive back to the hotel was agonizingly long.

  The stripping of each other’s dresses from the doorway to the bed was intense. The fervor of our lovemaking sparked a raw, animalistic behavior in us, each seeking dominance and control of the other’s body with fierce aggression, with nipples between teeth, fingernails carved into thighs, and the smacking of flesh.

  Neither relenting to the other, we tussled for an hour, achieving multiple orgasms as we sat legs intertwined, grinding our hips together. As if orgasm conveyed submission, we took immediate control of the raging spasms and continued daring each other to come again. Resolving to an un-conquerable battle, we finally lay in streams of perspiration, a mixture of sweat, perfume, and femininity filling the air.

  After the euphoric tidal waves had calmed, Asia groaned, “I don’t even want to look in the mirror.” Her silky straight strands turned kinky and clung like confetti against her face.

  “Just wet it,” I suggested.

  “And then go out into this Arctic weather?”

  “If you go real fast, you should have time to wash it. Hors d’oeuvres aren’t until five.”

  “I’m getting you back for this.” She smiled as she slowly rose from the bed, moving awkwardly from light muscle aches.

  In less than two hours we were back on the road headed to the exquisite banquet hall downtown. Evelyn had told us that the lag between the morning ceremony and evening reception was because bridal party and closest family members would be spending the afternoon dining with the governor at a private country club and taking photos in the posh establishment.

  Passing through the main street, Asia commented on the shining hanging wreaths attached to each light post, stating that it reminded her of a childhood trip to visit an elderly great-grandparent in Michigan.

  “Y’all don’t celebrate Christmas in Dallas?”

  She looked at me sideways and laughed. “It’s different up here. It’s cold, and it snows. Sometimes it didn’t really seem like Christmas when I was a kid because I’d watch all these TV specials with falling snow and people bundled up in winter coats, hats, and gloves. Then I’d look outside and people would be wearing spring jackets. It was confusing sometimes.”

  “Yeah, I suppose. It’s different being in Atlanta and never having to think about a shovel or a snowblower.”

  “Never used one.”

  “You’ve never shoveled?” I asked, amazed by the thought.

  “Nope. Why should I? I went from Texas to Georgia. Not a whole lot of snow happening in either place.”

  “So, what would you say if I wanted to move back up North?”

  “Are you serious?” She searched my face for a sign of humor.

  “What if?” I asked again, as poker-faced as possible.

  “Hmph. We’ll have to talk about that. I mean, I appreciate the beauty of a white Christmas and all, but I’m content to reminisce upon it fondly rather than live in it.”

  “Okay.”

  “One trip home and you’re all ready to pack up and move back?”

  “No, Asia, I was just asking. I have enough fond memories of home, but like you, I don’t need to be here for it to hold a special place in my heart.”

  “So why did you ask?”

  “I just wanted to know if you’d be willing to move with me, that’s all,” I said casually, sensing I was pissing her off.

  “I’d probably be willing to do most anything for you, Kyla, but damn, two-month summers? That’s rough.”

  “Don’t worry. It would take a lot to get me back home,” I said, recalling years of brutal winters. “I’m happy where I am. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so far from Yvonne, so I could be a better aunt. Not just an aunt who will send gifts from afar.”

  “Well, now that you’ve made the first trip back home, maybe it won’t be so hard to come back more often.”

  “You’re right. If I can make it through today, I can make it through anything.”

  “Yeah. And if our relationship can make it through today, we can make it through anything.”

  “We got this,” I assured her. “It sure can’t get any worse,” I said, feeling we had survived three Mount Everest-size hurdles already.

  “You had a life before me, Kyla, just as I had a life before you. I’ve just never experienced it firsthand and felt it the way I did today. But whatever happens inside there, I know that you’re mine now.” She nodded as we pulled up to the valet, alongside the Mercedes, Jaguars, and Volvos, Breathtaking in an egg-white floor-length silk gown with one shoulder strap decorated by small, beaded flowers that covered the butterfly tattoo on her back, Asia carefully exited the car. Her slender arms glowed with a light coating of bronze shimmer, illuminating random sparkles as we entered the ballroom and walked to our shared dining table.

  Ivory-colored table covers were adorned with a foot-high heart-shaped vase filled with fresh red roses. Each setting contained a red dinner and salad plate, shining silverware, and a crystal flute. And a bottle of Piper-Heidsieck champagne sat on each side of the table. A velvet bag on each chair opened to reveal a personally engraved silver key chain, mine with a calligraphic K, Asia’s with an A.

  “Wow!” Asia whis
pered softly when we took our seats (at the ex-friend table, we later learned).

  To my left were three childhood friends of Julie’s. She had barely spoken a word to them, once she decided her biracial heritage put her two steps ahead of her darker-skinned companions, tossing them aside for a fresh set of running mates of equal hair length and fair skin.

  Tanya, Gaylan, and Melinda each bandaged any unhealed wounds when they’d been gifted invitations to the highly anticipated nuptials of their “friend” and the older gentleman she’d snagged.

  To Asia’s right was Jason, a certified geek. His bowtie was so tightly wound around his neck, I prayed he wouldn’t pass out from asphyxiation. A dependable obsession with Julie had earned him years of handholding her with homework, while she used him as an alibi for late-night arrivals home after high-school parties, saying she was studying with him.

  Next to Jason were Ted and Tina, an older interracial couple that had returned to school in their forties and had the honor of sharing several courses with Jules. Not fortunate enough to bear children of their own, Julie soon took on the role as the child they never had, at least in their eyes.

  Julie included them on the invite list, to avoid self-inflicted wounds and a spiral into depression.

  Although outwardly well-groomed, it didn’t take long to realize the couple would give their left arms and right feet to have Mr. and Mrs. Smarczyk killed, leaving Julie orphaned and in despair, seeking refuge in their arms.

  A simultaneous round of “Oh!” circled the table when I answered the question of how I knew the married couple.

  All eyes turned to Asia, questioning her presence. “I’m Asia, here to support Kyla,” she said with a friendly pat to my shoulder.

  “This is my girlfriend,” I added coolly.

  “Whaaaat?” Tanya, Gaylan, and Melinda questioned in unison, while Jason nearly did begin choking and gasping for air.

  Ted and Tina were utterly dismayed by the announcement, suddenly calling to the tuxedo-dressed waiter assigned to our table, and ordering two double shots of scotch.