Unquenched

by Dakelle, Jorie

  "And this one is for you," his parents said, as they handed me a large wrapped box.

  I felt a shiver run down my back with that familiar pang of guilt. I hadn't expected to receive anything from his family and would have truly preferred if I hadn't. It made me feel worse about the whole situation and only deepened my wounds. But I smiled appreciatively and opened the box and was thrilled at the gift they had gotten me. There were candle sticks, six of them, which matched the colors of my apartment. They were beautiful. And there were also six candles to go with them. Although they were from his parents, Jordan knew me well. Yes, I could see myself being a part of this family. My life would be stable and I would pray for it to be complete. Then Jordan gave me a present. I was totally surprised, as he had already given me a piece of Indonesian art that I had fallen in love with in Bali. He gave me placemats that he had carefully chosen, again to match my apartment. But there was more. He gave me other assorted special trinkets that were clearly selected for me. He was so good to me. Then he handed me one more box.

  "Here my little chickadee," he said with a smile.

  I opened it. Sitting in my hands were two tickets for a concert that I had truly been dying to go to. They were for the night of New Year's Eve and tickets had been impossible to get. But what had made it even more special, was that Jordan disliked that musical artist and had fought to get the tickets despite it. I was crazy. I had the greatest guy in the world but my heart just wasn't with him.

  The gift giving was over by twelve o'clock noon, and for Jordan the day had just begun. My confusion still lingered, but if I was leaving, I had to start preparing to go. I showered and dressed and debated with myself every step of the way. As I thought about Tristan, he suddenly seemed less important. Maybe less real. I wanted him to be because I thought I wanted it to work with Jordan. I was trying so hard. I came so close to phoning Tristan and calling the whole thing off. But I realized then, that it wasn't about Tristan. It was about Jordan and understanding my feelings for him. Or about me and understanding what it was that I was looking for and what it took to make me feel what I wanted to. Tristan was just a means of comparison and a temptation quite hard to resist. And I wouldn't. I owed it to myself to play it all out. Even if Jordan and I had a future, I had to put this behind me.

  Jordan came into the room as I was getting dressed.

  "Hi," he said. "So what do you want to do today? I have a few ideas."

  I glanced at him with a look of surprise and I was afraid to respond to his question.

  "What's wrong?" he asked.

  "Jordan," I said softly. "I'm a little confused. I thought we spoke about all of this and when I was planning on leaving. I'm thinking about leaving in another two hours or so." He looked at me with wide open eyes and I knew I had hurt him again.

  "I thought that you were staying at least until tomorrow morning. You haven't even been here for twenty-four hours! I thought we'd meet some of my friends today and take a walk on the beach. Can you at least do that and leave a little later?"

  Every emotion I had ever known was tugging at me feverishly. I wanted to do anything he asked of me but I also had needs of my own. I wrestled with his question. I thought about the hours that I would lose with Tristan and knew that I had to go.

  "Jordan, I need the night to myself. If I leave here at 5 p.m, I won't get home until 10. By then I'll be exhausted and I will have lost the entire night. Please understand."

  He looked defeated and said, "Then you may as well just leave now."

  He drove me out to the highway as I followed him in my sister's trembling car. When we got to the highway we both pulled over, and got out of our cars to say good-bye. I put my arms around him despite his long face, and then I started to cry. They were real tears. Tears of confusion. Tears of love. And tears of hurt for both of us. He didn't even ask me why I was crying and I was more than thankful for that. He knew I had been feeling an assortment of emotions and probably just chalked it up to that. But as I looked at the man that stood in front of me, I made myself a promise. It was time. Time to make a decision. I was going back to Manhattan to accomplish something important, and suddenly I had a purpose. I would make every attempt to spend my life with Jordan but needed to see someone first. I ran my fingers through Jordan's hair and touched the side of his face.

  "We're going to be OK," I said. And then I drove away.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ********

  The drive back was tough. The weather had turned bad, the sky was dark and it had started to rain fiercely. The wind, for some reason, was still as strong as it had been the day before. I was driving my sister's car and had no choice but to put up with it as it swayed. I thought about my last words to Jordan and hoped that we could be happy together. I was praying that when I saw Tristan again, the sparks would no longer exist. I could clean the slate. Get him out of my system. Then start from scratch with Jordan. He was such a good man. And if I committed to him, I would be good to him. I promised myself.

  It was dark by the time I arrived in Manhattan yet the trip went surprisingly fast. It was 8 p.m. and it had taken five hours but I still had to park the car. The streets were empty as it was Christmas Day so parking was surprisingly easy. After I parked, I realized suddenly that there wasn't anything in my apartment to drink. I could pick up a bottle of juice and soda but I wanted a little something more. On Christmas Day the liquor stores would be closed so my options were somewhat limited. But the Korean delis that were all over Manhattan were always open and at least they sold beer. I was bogged down with bundles that I carried from the car but I would have to manage with one more package. I was pressed for time before he arrived and therefore had to pick up the beer then. There wouldn't be enough time after I went up to my apartment, and I really thought that we might need an ice-breaker. So I bought two six packs just in case and knew that it would be plenty.

  I walked into my apartment and immediately called Jordan to let him know that I had arrived safely. He sounded listless and I felt his sadness but I needed to take a break from my emotions. Just for one night. Maybe even two. I wanted to focus on the night ahead of me.

  Next, I called the Hyatt.

  The woman at reception transferred me to Tristan's room and his sleepy voice answered, "Hello?"

  "Hi," I responded eagerly. "I can't believe that you're really here! Were you sleeping?"

  "Yes," he said, "but I'm ready to get up, I've been waiting anxiously for your call."

  I heard the excitement in his voice, despite his obvious fatigue. For him, with the time difference, it was almost 2:30 a.m.

  "What time is it now?" he asked. I told him it was 8:30 p.m. and he said, "OK, I'll be at your place at 9."

  I raced around the floor debating what to do first, knowing I only had a half hour to straighten up. I looked around my apartment which seemed to display every item that I had taken with me to Singapore. I hadn't had time to unpack my things in the short period that I had been home.

  Quick, throw everything into the closets, I thought.

  And I did. At least my apartment would be presentable. Next I had to fix my hair. I had been wearing it straight since I'd been back in cold weather and out of the humid Asian air. I hoped that he would like it and would still be attracted to me as intensely as he had appeared to be before. I already knew what I would wear that night, I had decided on the drive home. Simple and casual, as we would only be sitting in my apartment. Blue jeans, a plain black turtle neck and a short little cropped black blazer. I threw on a pair of ankle high black boots and then I knew I was done. It was a comfortable look but exuded some sex appeal despite the fact that I was all covered up. It felt strange to be wearing winter clothes but I felt good about the way that I looked. He hadn't yet arrived but I anxiously anticipated him taking me in his arms to let me know that he thought so too.

  The doorbell rang and my heart raced more quickly than it had ever done before. I thought back for a moment to Jordan and I saying good-bye
to each other near the highway back on the Cape. It was hard to believe that it had only been a few hours ago. Already I felt as if I was in another world and the next few moments were about to define it. The promise that I had made to both Jordan and myself would be put to the test very shortly.

  There was no turning back anymore. He was there. He was an arm's length away with only a door between us at the apartment where I slept in New York. I walked to the door casually and tried to appear relaxed. I hesitated briefly as I knew in my heart, that the door I was about to open was one of many. I turned the handle and there it was, the extraordinary smile I remembered so vividly. The sexy smile that was inscribed in my mind and was strong enough to speak for both of us.

  "Hi," he said, with nervous laughter as I led him into my home.

  His eyes searched mine, he found his answer then embraced me with his firm masculine arms. His body leaned against me and I wanted to explore him, but I knew it would have to wait. It was much too early. But I had felt him. And I knew that he had felt me too. He realized my soft curves and I found his hard lines in the instant that our frames touched and met. The strength of his being was intoxicating. The scent on his body drew me in like a magnet although I could not detect the fragrance. As I took a deep breath I felt a throbbing sensation, a stir that I could not control. I was spellbound by this creature whose exterior was panther like, agile, long, lean and sleek. Yet I was surprisingly comfortable, excited and happy, only I desperately wanted to touch him. I assumed what he was feeling as his eyes spoke wonders yet his hug was somewhat restrained. The evening would unfold, purposely slowly, and whatever would happen, would be savored.

  His body was adorned, or so I thought, with clothes that enhanced his look. He too, wore winter clothes, a style like mine, that specified his taste and character. His jacket was oversized, athletic in style and purple in various shades. Tristan was of a select few men that gave that color strength. He carried it well as it was his presence alone that allowed him the leeway to venture outside the norm. His lavender turtle neck framed his shoulders and arms, and showed off his rugged square chin. He was wearing jeans. Worn out but clean on his muscular legs, I could feel them as he walked into the room.

  "I can't believe you are still so tan, you look great," I said with effervescence. "Come in, let me take your coat and introduce you to your first New York apartment."

  I laughed, knowing it was probably much smaller than he was accustomed to as New York was notorious for its tiny spaces. The music I was playing was Luther Van Dross, easy to listen to, yet enticing. Although he was smiling from ear to ear, I could tell that he was jet lagged, and therefore, I felt compelled to keep the conversation going.

  "Tris, ready for a beer?" I encouraged.

  "Sure," he said. "That sounds great." I was relieved that he accepted so I had a reason to keep busy and I knew that a drink would help us relax.

  I sat down with our drinks, our uneasiness apparent yet felt comfort in the fact that he appeared nervous. It gave me confidence that I was not alone in what I was feeling. We were sitting on the couch in my studio apartment and the atmosphere was definitely cozy. My apartment looked pretty with peach and teal colors, and the decor reflected touches from abroad. The city was quiet as it was Christmas night, and I felt like time was standing still. It was almost like the time had been created for us or strangely enough, stolen. We were somehow functioning in our own private world and no one seemed to exist. People were away, the phone wasn't ringing and there wasn't any place to go. Everything was closed. But the blinds were open and we could see the city and there was a hush over the darkness outside.

  "So," he said. "How are you?" as the word "you" sounded special, due to the obvious emphasis he placed on it.

  We looked at each other and without hesitation, began to laugh nervously. His question was asked to fill the silence and I was not really expected to answer it. That much I understood. For the first time in years I felt like a school girl and couldn't control my laughter. It was totally embarrassing and wonderfully refreshing all at exactly the same time. It was blatantly obvious, to both of us, that we just didn't know what to do with ourselves. So we laughed some more until our energy released then finally engaged in conversation.

  "So, what happened that enabled you to be here tonight?" he asked gently.

  I winced very slightly with a pleading look and said, "Can we save that topic for later?"

  I didn't want to begin the evening with deep discussion. But more than that, I didn't want him to know exactly what I had done in order to get back to New York. I didn't want him to know all the effort I had spent or what I had done to Jordan. Not yet. Even though all I strived for and had attained was in order to spend time with him.

  "Sure, no problem," he responded. But there was no doubt in my mind that he would follow up. He was reliable. I knew that about him. It was difficult to believe that we had only met twice as the depth of what we shared was remarkable. But it wasn't just passion. And it was more than a physical attraction. There was an undeniable sense of compatibility. A friendship that was indescribably natural. We fed off of each other when one of us spoke and we were driven by interest and energy. But yes, there was also a special connection. A chemistry. There was an obvious desire to explore each other but a sense of familiarity already existed. I couldn't decipher all of his thoughts yet I felt there was a history behind us. It was almost as if we had developed together over a very long period of time. And I knew he felt it too. I knew he felt it because he finished my sentences whenever I stopped midstream. Or he would use a word I was going to use immediately before I used it. It amazed me. It was inconceivable. Twice we had met. This was only the third time.

  "How did you know what I was going to say," I asked him each time.

  "I don't know, it just came out," he chuckled, as he appeared surprised himself.

  But I had the gift of completing and duplicating the words he used as well. We were inherently on the same wave length. Our minds moved in tandem. But we had come to each other that way. We hadn't grown together or earned the bond. Yet it existed. The magic of harmony I shared with few people. Four to be exact. My sister, mother, and childhood best friend. And then of course there was my father! But that had been after a lifetime of experiences and influencing each other's behavior. It was no coincidence that as girls and adults we had simultaneously spit out the same words. But with him it was magic, almost hypnotic, and our interaction was effortless.

  We were both still smiling and strangely enough, almost giggling involuntarily. I took a sip of beer and was relieved to feel the bubbles begin to take some affect. I wondered what he was thinking. It was his thoughts about me that were somewhat unclear despite my ability to read him. It was obvious that he felt alive with me and I fathomed that he was still attracted. But I was somehow unsure of how far he would take it as he exuded a strong sense of self control.

  "How were your last few days in Singapore?" he inquired.

  "They were really a lot of fun," I answered. We actually went to a Chinese wedding and it was an incredibly colorful night," I explained.

  "Really," he said, again with a strong British accent.

  I burst out laughing and imitated his inflection and he joined me in the harmless abuse.

  "Oh be quiet, you! I don't have a British accent. If you had any idea of what a German accent sounded like, you might realize that is what I have," he said teasingly.

  There was a feistiness about him that I was totally taken by and an energy that was hard to resist. We acted like children who were spirited and free. Time did not seem to exist. We were somehow incapable of serious conversation without laughing or playful banter.

  "So, Miss International, what country will your job take you to next?" he tormented.

  "Well, maybe Australia, possibly Korea, and then there's the Middle East. But one place I know I have no interest in going is Germany," I kidded.

  "And you, Mr. International, how often do you get
to New York?" I poked.

  "Well, that depends," he said schemingly. "I can request to have several flights a month but I might need a reason to do that."

  He stopped for a moment and looked deep into my eyes. His own eyes were sparkling and animated. They were vibrant and dancing and I felt as if he were touching me. I looked down suddenly, as if for confirmation, and both of his hands were in his lap. But his long masculine fingers had been caressing my face, or so I must have imagined in my mind. I was starting to perspire. The moisture was accumulating on the back of my neck and I felt as if I were generating heat. The music on the tape had stopped.

  "So, Mr. Engler, what kind of music do you listen to in that foreign place that you live?" I instigated sarcastically.

  The music having stopped had been my savior because the temptation had become overwhelming for me. I didn't want to initiate with him, but being so close to him was inviting to me, and I knew he was still a long way from ready. His controlled calm demeanor made me question his intentions and I began to fear I would be disappointed.

  "Probably nothing that you have on your shelf, I think it takes about six months for the popular music to find its way to the States," he retaliated.

  "Well then, I guess you'll just have to trust me, won't you?" I smiled. "How's this?" I asked as I held up a cassette and changed the music to something else.

  "Oh, Marvin Gaye," he said. "I really like his music. I haven't heard it in a while."

  "Good, that settles the music. Can I get you another beer?" I asked.

  "Well, that sounds good", he answered with excitement. "At this point I am so jet lagged, I guess it can't do anything but help."