by Penny Dixon
I’ve read enough Mills and Boon, watched enough daytime TV to know that what I’ve just agreed to could be seen as delusional. I know all the arguments against, I might have even written one or two of them myself. Without him by my side they begin to take over. One step at a time, Josi, I remind myself. All you have to do tonight is introduce him. You don’t have to tell them anything else. You can fill Celia in on the details as they develop. Things may look very different when you get home.
It’s eight o’clock before he arrives. I get a text at seven thirty: Sorry babes running late be there in thirty mins. Thirty more minutes to hold the tension. He arrives looking like he’s stepped out of a movie. A black T-shirt with a dragon motif hugs his chest and is tucked loosely into tight navy jeans. They meet his shiny shoes into which are inserted nervous, uneasy feet. I give him a quick peck on his lips to relax him a little and go to get him a drink of water while he talks to Celia and Kenny.
There’s a certain synergy between real estate and surveying. Kenny’s visited Guyana so shares some of his experiences. Grant quickly relaxes with them. Conversation is easy for the hour he stays before we leave to go dancing. No one mentions our status. He’s simply come to take me dancing.
‘Your friends are nice,’ he says as he holds the car door open for me.
‘Yes, I know. That’s why I spend so much time with them.’
‘I wish you’d introduced me sooner. Would have been nice to spend time with you and them.’
I feel like I’m being reprimanded but decide not to rise to the bait. ‘You will do,’ I say instead.
He slides in behind the wheel. ‘Now I want a real kiss.’
He takes me to a beach bar Kenny recommended but before we’ve finished our first drink they begin to pack down the music. It appears Sundays is early closing. He suggests St Lawrence Gap. Even on a Sunday it’s bustling with people out to have a good time, mostly tourists with nowhere to go on Monday.
We settle for the Reggae Lounge, which has a live Bob Marley and old-skool tribute band. He has me tucked under his arm like a trophy as we walk to the bar and he keeps me there while we sip our rum and cokes. It’s too loud to talk so we watch the other dancers on the floor. The large woman in white spider’s web leggings that make her buttocks look like two giant watermelons perched beside each other. When she moves in her six inch stiletto heels they roll from side to side like giant marbles rubbing against each other. The sleeves of her tight white top drape like batwings from her elbows. She wobbles and shakes like a firm jelly and is amazingly flexible for someone so large. She moves like a dancehall diva. The other dancers are happy to let her have the centre of the floor. She’s mesmerising.
When the band strikes up “No Woman No Cry”, Grant takes me to the floor. He slides both his arms around my shoulders and holds me like a delicate piece of china. As he moves his body, I remember why I was so eager to dance with him again. He mouths something that I don’t hear, the band’s too loud; but I don’t need to. He tells me everything I want to know with his body. He’s tender, teasing, probing, searching, questioning, penetrating. He responds to my every thought. A slide here, a thrust there, a tight grip, a feathery embrace. We’ve blended, merged, like the yin/yang symbol; flowing into each other, forming the perfect circle. I’m hot and wet and wanting. He’s hard as nails, supple as plasticine, flexible as water. In the dark corner of the floor we make love to the pulsating rhythms of “Kinky Reggae”, “Cry to Me”, “Easy Skanking”, “Natural Mystic”. The band is good, sliding effortlessly from one great song to another. When they play “Stir It Up”, he mouths the words against my ears. ‘I’ll push the wood then I blaze ya fire; then I’ll satisfy your heart’s desire. (Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh) said, I stir it every every minute: all you got to do, baby (ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh), is keep it in, eh!’ I feel him press hard against me, feel the hunger in his breath, the craving in his touch. I pull him in close. ‘Do you want me?’ I ask in his ear.
‘Let’s get out of here.’
We walk back to his car, slow deliberate steps. We don’t touch. The energy is too intense. We don’t speak, we don’t need words. We both know the agreement not to make love on my last day is about to be broken. We reach the car. He pulls me to him, both arms round my shoulders. His mouth’s on my lips, his tongue finds mine, sucks hard on it, my ears are popping, like coming in to land or diving. I’m disoriented. ‘Oh my God, I want you,’ I gasp, coming up for air.
He needs no other invitation. We’re in the car, on the back seat ripping each other’s clothes off. My panties are off. His tongue finds my clitoris like a homing missile. My hips shoot up so fast they nearly knock him out. His hand reaches for my nipples through the top of my bra. I’m so impatient I rip the fasteners. His trousers are off. I’m naked. The condom is on. I brace myself for the pain of his entry. There’s no pain. Desire is a great anesthetic. I sit on him and circle his pole. He’s like a wooden spoon in my mixing bowl. Touching all the sides, stimulating every nerve. We circle together, he goes one way, I go the other. The pleasure is intense. He thrusts deep inside me. There’s fire and ice and honey and lime. It’s nettles and dock leaves. I lose control, begin to scream. He winds up the windows. In seconds we’re bathed in sweat. He stops moving.
‘Hold on babes. Let me go somewhere quiet.’
I lever myself off him. He climbs into the front seat, starts the car and drives carefully out of the Gap. I laugh out loud at the spectacle we make. He in a soaked T-shirt, bare arsed and a sheathed pole. Me stark naked in the back of the car. I stroke his neck.
‘What would you do if we got stopped now?’
‘Tell them you’re kidnapping me.’
It’s only a few minutes to Dover Beach but it seems like an age. I kiss his neck, nibble his ear, lick his shoulders, taste his salt. It reminds me of that first time in the sea. The car park’s deserted, I can make all the noise I want and he gives me plenty to scream about. We both know it’s our last time for who knows how long. He’s frenzied. Wants reassurance.
‘Tell me you love me.’
‘I love you Grant.’
‘Tell me you love it.’
‘I love it, love the way you fuck me. Yes, yes, there, there, come on lover, oh yes, fuck me, fuck me hard.’
‘Am I the best?’
‘You’re the best Grant, your cock’s the best.’ With each thrust, ‘the best, the best, the best.’
‘Better than Richard?’
‘Yes, yes, the best.’
‘Better than everyone?’
‘Yes, you’re the best.’ I’d tell him he’s better than God while he’s making me come like this.
‘You love it?’
‘I love it. I love you. Love the way you fuck me. You’re the best. I love it, I love it.’
‘You want more?’
‘More, more, more, more,’ like I’m at a concert screaming for an encore. My feet hit the ceiling with each thrust. I don’t know how I got into this position but I’ve never been penetrated this deeply. The pleasure’s acute, it’s total. I feel it in my toes, in my fingernails as they dig into his flesh, in my teeth as they sink into the thick muscles in his arms, in my thighs as they grip his hips, in the back on my head as it hits the seat.
‘You ready babes?’
‘I’m ready Grant, ready for you. Always ready for you.’
‘You want me babes?’
‘I want you, I’m ready, I love you.’
‘I love you Josi. I’ll always love you. Tell me you’ll always love me.’
‘I’ll always love you. Always and always.’
‘Fuck you?’ he asks through gritted teeth. I know he’s nearly there. He’s climbed the hill, taken me with him, let me jump and climb again and again, now he’s ready to descend. I want us to tumble together.
‘Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me hard. Yes baby, there. Yes. Just there! Oh my god you’re good. Fuck me darling! Fuck me good! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!’
&nbs
p; His whole body stiffens, rigid as a post. He shudders, like an earthquake’s pushing out from his gut. He clutches my buttocks and pulls me to him. My hands are on his face. It’s tight and twisted. His mouth drops open. ‘Aaahhh!’ He finally lets go.
‘Aaaahhh!’ I join him, holding on tight as we fall together. Rolling and tumbling down the mountain till we come to rest on the soft verge at the bottom.
When we wake up from a brief recovery sleep, he says, ‘You know you can’t leave me now.’
‘I know.’
He goes to Miami Beach to use the public showers before taking me home. He says Mel is at home. He needs to take one step at a time.
Grant
I get home at four in the morning, sit in the car in the garage and let my body settle. I can’t go in to lie down with Mel while I’m this tied up with Josi. I just leave her and can’t wait to see her again, and she leaving tomorrow. A few more hours and she gone, back to her life thousands of miles away.
I wonder what time Mel go to bed. I told her I wouldn’t be out long, that this was the final meeting with Josi to decide about building the house, that we going to meet with her friends for a drink. I told her I want to meet Josi’s friends because they planning to build and it would be good to be in with them. I think about the whole night from the start.
‘What you think I should wear?’ I ask them over dinner.
‘If it’s a business meeting wear your business clothes,’ Darron suggest.
‘Yes but it’s night, maybe you should wear something a bit more casual, how about work pants and casual shirt?’ Mel says.
‘I think that could work. I’ll try and find something when we finish.’
The meeting with Josi and her friends run in the background of my head while I talk to them about my football and the other things I do today.
Will they like me? They are her husband’s friends. What they going to think about the situation. I understand why she don’t do it before. Is she just doing it now because she going home tomorrow and know she don’t have to include me in anything they do? Won’t have me as a social embarrassment. Will she drop me when she get home? I’m still thinking about this when the house phone ring. Mel pick it up.
‘Hello. Yes. I’ll put him on.’
She push the phone to me like it have shit on it and screw up her face like she smelling it.
‘It’s your sister.’ She start to clear away the plates and I move to the sofa.
‘How’s your Sunday?’
‘Good. How’s everybody?’
‘We all good. How’s Darron?’
‘He good, we just finish eating. You want to say hello? He’s right here.’
‘I’ll talk to him later. It’s you I want to talk to.’
‘Your auntie say she’ll talk to you in a while,’ I tell Darron so he can relax and stop watching me. He love Roxanne. She always sending things for him, he love when she phone so he can put in his orders. Even though he can send them by email, he like to talk to her. She call him her favourite nephew. ‘How’s my favourite young man?’ she ask and I see him bristle with pride.
‘Grant, how comes you don’t phone me back? Every time I call you…’
‘Roxy, Marcie having a sickle cell crisis. I been trying to figure out what to do, been busy researching and talking to Jeanette. I’m going home to see her. I’ll talk to Jeanette about the divorce when I’m out there. It’ll be easier face to face.’
‘When did you hear about Marcie? Why didn’t you tell me? Something big like this happens in the family and you keep it to yourself. Grant, how could…’
‘Remember I tell you I had to pay for the tests.’
‘Yes but you didn’t tell me what the results were. How long she been in crisis?’
‘You know about this crisis thing?’
‘Yes, a colleague of mine has it.’
‘You know anybody in our family that have it?’
‘No.’
‘Then how come Marcie get it? How come none of the others get it?’
‘She’s just unlucky, it’s only a one in four chance she had with you and Jeanette positive.’
‘Did you know I have it?’
‘No.’
‘Do you have it?’
‘No.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I went for genetic counselling and got tested before we had the girls.’
‘How comes you didn’t tell me?’
‘There was nothing to tell. I was fine. If they’d found the sickle cell trait I would have told you. I was just happy we were clear, just thought we were all clear.’
‘How old is your colleague?’
‘Thirty two.’
‘How often she get this crisis?’
‘I don’t know, maybe once or twice a year. I’m not always around. Could be more, could be less.’
‘She ever have to go to hospital?’
Sometimes, for a transfusion.’
‘So she don’t grow out of it?’
‘It’s not something you grow out of Grant, you just have to learn to look after yourself, keep yourself healthy, not get too stressed, drink plenty water, eat good food, rest your body.’
‘How much stress can a four year old be under?’
‘Children feel the stress of a divorce you know, even if they don’t show it.’
‘So you saying is my fault she get this crisis?’
‘I’m not saying it’s anybody’s fault. Just that she’ll need a lot of looking after. How’re you getting home?’
‘I’m sorting something out. I talk to her on the phone. Roxy, she sound so weak. She keep saying, “Daddy when you coming home?” Jeanette say she in a lot of pain. On the internet it say she could be in that pain for a few hours or more than two weeks. I have to go to her.’
‘How you getting home?’
‘I’m borrowing some money from a friend.’
‘Which friend?’ She sound suspicious.
‘You remember Mark Baker the pilot. I see him today, he’s going to see what he can do.’ No point worrying her with the real source of the money.
‘I’ll send you a ticket Grant. It might take a week. Even if Mark comes up with the money, I’ll pay him back.’
‘All right, thanks.’ It don’t feel good taking more money from her but I might have extra expense when I get home and the money I get from Sammy will help. One day I’m going to pay her back, when I’m back on my feet, when I’m earning again.
‘You want to talk to Darron?’
‘Yes.’
Whatever else she ring me to talk about – and I’m pretty certain it was Sophia – she don’t bother to mention. She’ll be happy that I’m sorting out the divorce with Jeanette. I didn’t see it as urgent before, but if it’s possible I can be with Josi I want to be free.
‘What does your sister have against me?’ Mel demand as soon as I hand the phone to Darron.
‘Not now Mel. I have a lot on my mind.’
‘I know. I notice you don’t have time for me any more. First it’s Darron, then Roxanne, then Josi, now it’s Marcie. You have time for Sammy and your football and pool. When was the last time we went anywhere together?’
‘I don’t know. I’m not keeping score, why don’t you tell me? What get into you now Mel? What’s this about?’
‘I do everything I can to help you and your sister still treat me like I’m a piece of shit. The way she talks to me on the phone, “let me talk to Grant please”; no “hello”, no “are you all right?”, like I’m your house maid or something.’
She look at me with two big question marks in her eyes and I see Marcie sixteen years from now. She don’t deserve this. I pull her close to me. She put her head in my chest and whimper like a puppy. I stroke her braids. I’ve never seen her like this. She always so easy-going, more interested in what Beyonce and Jay-Z doing than in what I get up to when I leave the house. I’ve been taking her for
granted, using her to look after Darron, to help pay the bills, using her when I feel horny, without thinking about her feelings. What if somebody did this to Marcie?
‘I’m sorry babes. I think it’s because she feel you too young for me; and she like Jeanette. She think it’s my fault Jeanette leave. I’m going to talk to her about it.’ I can’t tell her Roxy think she immature, that I’m too good for her. I can’t tell her that Roxy want me for somebody else. It’s a gamble but I say, ‘If you want, I’ll stay in tonight.’
It take her a few seconds to say, ‘No, if it’s her last night, go. I don’t mind.’
I breathe out.
‘We’ll go out next week babes. I promise.’
She and Darron help me choose the clothes to wear. Some things they say make me look like an old man. Some too old fashioned. We settle on jeans and a nice fake Louis Vuitton T-shirt Roxy gave me for my birthday.
‘I feel like we’re dressing you for a date instead of a business meeting,’ Mel comment at one point. I feel a little stab of guilt. I vow to be more considerate to her when Josi’s gone home.
With all the trying on and taking off we lose track of time and I’m half hour late. It won’t look good turning up late. I expect her to be irritated. I know what she think about lateness, but she greet me at the door and give me a quick kiss on my lips in front of her friends. I take it as a good sign. She must tell them about me already.
She leave me with Celia and Kenny and go to get me some water. They’re easy people, make me feel welcome. I don’t feel like they judging me. Celia know a few of the people in real estate who I know, and she looking to build soon on a plot she buy last year. She could be a good contact, even if Josi go home and never talk to me again. That’s if they would still want to know me.
Kenny visit home a few times. He travel a lot, all of them do. Europe, Africa, America. They live the kind of life I want but they not proud, they not looking down their nose at me. He’s like Mel, laid-back, easy-going with a strong Bajan accent. He suggest a place to take Josi, a beach bar, but I’d be happy spending more time with them. When Josi sit beside me on the sofa and take my hand I feel like we’re a couple, like it’s a double date. This is a different life to the one I’m living, to the one I’ve lived with my other women. It feel more like Roxy’s life, but with Josi instead of Sophia and without the cold in New York.