by Candice Dow
How could I explain that the market wasn’t that good anymore? I just shrugged my shoulders. He held me close. We grinded to the song. I could feel the beat of his heart. Hoping to interpret each beat, I leaned closer. When the song ended, he grabbed my hand and we walked into the lounge area. We both grabbed a shot from one of the hostesses’ trays. I gulped down the shot of vodka and grabbed a lemon. My lips puckered and I made a sour face. Scooter shook his head. “You haven’t changed.”
I silently yelled, No! I really have changed. Now, I know how to appreciate a good guy.
I placed the shot glass back on the tray and repeated the process, hoping that two shots would give me the courage to say all the things that I’d waited nine years to say.
He was first to sit. Slightly stumbling, I immediately followed. I scooted my hips close to him and he wrapped his arm around me.
“Scooter, do you remember how close we used to be?” I asked.
He laughed, not like he was laughing with me, but rather at my dumb-ass recollection. “Yep. I remember. We were way too young to be that serious.”
“I know, but do you think it was real?”
“Taylor, I know it was real. At least it was for me.”
“Do you ever think about how things would have been if we’d stayed together?”
“Not really.”
He lifted his arm, disconnecting our closeness. He readjusted and folded his hands on his lap. “I used to,” he added.
“When did you stop?”
Taking a deep breath, he said, “When I realized that it just wasn’t meant to be.”
I sighed. “Scooter, I think it was.”
“Trust me, it wasn’t. If we didn’t break up when we did, it would have happened sooner or later. We were five hundred miles apart.”
We sat in silence for a moment. I asked, “Scooter, how many times have you been in love since we broke up?”
Without hesitation, he responded. “Once.”
Before I could ask my next question, he cut in, “And you?”
My answer wasn’t so simple. “Scooter, I never stopped loving you. I haven’t been in love since. I’ve been practically single since the moment I told you it was over. And I . . .”
He interrupted my confession, “Taylor, you still got game.”
I waved my hand. “I’m not saying I haven’t been in relationships.” Laughing at myself. “Too many to count, but I haven’t been in love. Hell, I haven’t been in a relationship longer than sixty days.”
He laughed, saying, “Sixty days?”
Embarrassed, I nodded.
“Damn, Tay-Bae.”
I blushed. “Yeah. It’s rough.”
He put his hand on my knee. “Are your expectations too high?”
“Maybe.” I paused. “No one has measured up to you.”
“Taylor, don’t play games with me.”
“I’m serious.”
“You must be kidding me.”
I looked at him. “No, I’m not. I think about us all the time. I feel like if I could rewind the hands of time, we would be together. Or . . . if . . . you . . .” My words slowly exited my mouth, because I didn’t know what I really wanted to say. “Still feel the way I—”
He placed his index finger over my lip, “But it’s too late.”
I pleaded, “Why?”
“Because I don’t move backward and I really don’t want to think about something that happened so long ago.” He placed his hand on my entangled fingers. “Let’s go have a drink for old-time sake.”
“Scooter, I have waited nine years to let you know how I feel.”
He stood up, clearly acknowledging that he wasn’t interested. “It couldn’t have been that serious if you could wait nine years to say it,” he said.
He took a few steps and I shuffled behind him, “Scooter, I was afraid.”
His smirk dismissed my sincere plea, “Are you trying to have fun or are you trying to sit here and reminisce all night?”
He swiftly walked away from me. Feelings of regret fluttered in my tummy. I needed to vomit. I felt like a fool trying to resolve issues from a high school relationship. I rushed to the bar to search for Courtney. After practically snatching her away from Dexter again, I recruited her to the dance floor.
As we two-stepped to the old-school hits, she laughed at me. “I don’t believe you played yourself like that.”
“I figure he’s here alone. I’m here alone. I was thinking maybe it was a sign.”
“I knew it. I know you like a book.”
I curled my lips. “He’s the only guy I ever loved.”
“And.”
“And I figured we could probably hook up again.”
She shook her head. I shrugged my shoulders. Though I fronted for my girl, my feelings were hurt. After pretending that I was exhausted, I convinced Courtney that we should go. My reunion wasn’t what I dreamed it would be. My confession made me feel worse. I should have just shut the hell up. But, no! I go in for the kill. Of all songs to be playing as we headed to the door was Biz Markie’s “You Caught the Vapors.”
Courtney looked at me and we burst into laughter. Just as I pulled the doorknob, Scooter pulled my arm. “Tay-Bae, where you going?”
“Home.”
Courtney stepped out the door. “See you outside.” She smiled at Scooter. “Good seeing you again. Keep doing your thing.”
He smiled. “Okay, Courtney. Take care.”
“What’s wrong, Tay-Bae?”
Abandoning all dignity, I confessed, “I must look stupid.”
He frowned at me. “Why?”
“I guess because I wanted more from our reunion.”
He pointed back and forth between us. “Our reunion?” I nodded. We laughed and he said, “Like what?”
“I hoped you’d be single, too. I hoped you’d ask me out. I hoped you hadn’t loved anyone else either.”
He pulled me to him, his hands cupping my elbows. He looked in my eyes. “Taylor, it took me a long time to get over you. It took me a long time to love someone else. I didn’t get into another relationship until I was in Medical School.” He sighed. “I swore I would never love another woman ever again. Then, I grew up. I couldn’t hold what you did against all women.”
He continued, “I’m in love with a good girl now.” As if he heard my heart shatter, he said, “Taylor, I will always love you. I always have.”
I hugged him one last time. Our lips were reacquainted. He pushed his tongue into my mouth and passionately swirled it around. The consistent thrashing of his tongue sent chills up my spine. I snatched away and rapidly walked toward the valet. With a bewildered look on his face, he let me go. Neither of us was prepared for what hid behind our liplock. He waved. I stood at the bottom step, watching him disappear into the party.
3
SCOOTER
The vestibule of Zion Temple was in full swing when I entered the church. Like two opposing football teams, the congregation transitioned from people entering for 9:30 service and those exiting 7:30. Once I fought my way into the sanctuary, I saw Taylor. She was even sexy wearing her usher uniform. She waved anxiously. I waved back.
She blew a kiss. I nodded. She sent another message using sign language. Her persistence that we master the art of sign language was solely for this purpose. Her graceful hand gestures were more distinct in her white church-lady gloves. She said, “Hello, handsome.”
I responded, “How are you beautiful?”
“Dreaming of you.”
She communicated a poem while we patiently waited for the crowd between us to disperse. Finally, we stood eye to eye. Her sparkly braces beamed into my glasses. We stood speechless, admiring one another as if we hadn’t seen each other just hours ago. Spurred by the passion rising between us, she grabbed my hand. “C’mon. Let’s go downstairs into the fellowship hall.”
People seemed to make a pathway for us. Taylor pulled me into the kitchen of the fellowship hall and kissed me. Her fearle
ss spontaneity sucked the strength from me. She owned my heart. Fireworks crackled in my pants. Self-conviction forced me to end the connection with a small peck. She smiled.
In the midst of the commotion surrounding me, I daydreamed of the young girl who sparked flames in me the way no other woman has been capable of since. I sighed. Boy, did I miss the good ole days when love was so trivial. Until her soft lips touched mine two nights ago, these memories were buried.
Tackling my way into the sanctuary, I sat down ten pews from the front. After reviewing the program, I looked up to find Taylor’s mom waving at me. I waved back. She constantly peeped at me throughout the service. Her anxious expression screamed that she needed to talk to me. I mouthed, “I’ll see you after church.”
She nodded, but didn’t stop turning around every fifty seconds. I’d smile each time our eyes connected. After a while, Toni, Taylor’s older sister peeped from the choir stand to see what was causing her mother’s distraction. Her huge smile embraced me. I smiled back.
When Bishop said the benediction, Mrs. Jabowski nearly leaped over the crowd to come and hug me. She touched my face delicately. “You look so good, Scooter.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Where are you now?”
“I’m in Connecticut at Yale.”
She shook her head, asking, “What are you doing at Yale?”
“I’m an anesthesiology resident.”
She smiled. “So, you went to Medical School?”
I nodded. Releasing air from her lungs, she squealed, “I’m so proud of you. You know Taylor graduated from GW Law. She works for the Train Workers’ Union.” She nodded. “Labor law.”
“I know. We actually had our class reunion on Friday night.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You know Taylor’s so secretive.”
That was weird. The Taylor I remember told everything. One of the deacons went over to the speaker. “Please make your way out of the sanctuary so the eleven-thirty people can come in.”
She grabbed my arm. “C’mon. We have to go speak to Bishop.”
She towed me through the crowd. As we traveled through a quiet hallway, leading to the pastor’s study, Toni ran up behind us. She sang, “Scooter.”
I hugged her. The Jabowski girls were all slim as toothpicks. Their boney knees replayed in my mind. As I recalled their weekly dances, I chuckled. Taylor would do the choreography and the troop would sing to me. As we rocked back and forth, I laughed. “SWV.”
Mrs. Jabowski stood impatiently while we reminisced. Toni laughed. “You’re crazy boy. You still remember that.”
“Yep.” Sweeping my arms left and right, I imitated the Jabowski sisters, “I get so weak in the knees. I can hardly sleep.”
Mrs. Jabowski interrupted our laughter. “Toni, I’m taking him to see your daddy. We have to hurry, before eleven-thirty service starts.”
Toni hugged me again. “Okay, brother.”
That evoked more memories. This was my family. “Okay, sister.”
She waved and turned to walk in the opposite direction. “Keep in contact, Scooter. We miss you.”
“Okay. I will.”
I didn’t tell her that I missed them too. When we stood at the pastor’s study, my heart thumped. Trying to calm the rumble in my stomach, I took a deep breath. Could I feel the power of the man behind the door? He was the reason I was so committed at such a young age. Either you treated his girls like princesses or you had to step. After thirty seconds or so, the door swung open and the overweight man that I thought was larger than life was even larger up close. I stretched my arms out. “Bishop.”
“Scooter?”
Mrs. Jabowski nodded. “Honey, this is now Dr. Evans.”
He draped his arms around me. The sleeves of his robe hung down my back, as he began to pray silently. He thanked God for me. After telling me how proud and happy he was to see me, he was forced to rush back into the church. Their love revived suppressed emotions.
Bishop left us standing in the hall and Mrs. Jabowski wouldn’t stop smiling at me. She asked, “Are you married, Scooter?”
I shook my head. She cackled, “Oh, goodie.”
“I have a girlfriend, though.”
She nodded, but didn’t acknowledge what I said. “Did you and Taylor exchange information?”
“Actually, we didn’t.”
“Why don’t you give her a call while you’re here?”
I was skeptical of Taylor’s single proclamation, but her mom’s anxiousness squashed all doubt. “Actually, I will. Can you give me her number?”
She dug in her purse for a pen. I chuckled and opened my cell phone. “I can just put it in here.”
She rambled off Taylor’s home and cell number. I entered the information. Definitely no man. What happened? How could Taylor Jabowski still be single?
4
TAYLOR
Shortly after one in the afternoon, the phone rang. I stretched over to the nightstand to read the caller ID. My jaw nearly dropped to the floor. My eyes stretched in amazement. I pinched myself to confirm that I wasn’t dreaming and I took a deep breath. “Hello.”
After a long pause, he said quietly, “Tay-Bae.”
I looked up in the air and mouthed. “Thank you, Lord.” I smiled and replied, “Scooter.”
He chuckled slightly. “I just got your number from your Mom.”
“My mother?”
“She still has the same number. Right?”
Thank God. I blushed. “You’re right. When did you call her? She leaves for church at . . .”
“The same time she went to church ten years ago.”
“So, how did you—”
He cut me off, saying, “I went to nine-thirty service and—”
“You saw her there.”
Surely this wasn’t his first visit home. What made him stop by Zion Temple today? I held the phone tightly, awaiting his next sentence. His next breath. Maybe I wasn’t losing my mind. Maybe we did share something more than puppy love.
He continued, “You’ve been on my mind since Friday and I . . .”
I sighed. I prayed. I imagined that he wanted me. He needed me. He missed me.
Then he finished, “I want to hook up before I leave on Tuesday.”
I bit my bottom lip. As much as I wanted this, I didn’t know what to say. I stumbled over my thoughts. “Uh, um.” I slowly rolled out, “So when are you trying to hook up?”
“I’m chillin’. I don’t have much on my schedule. You tell me.”
Internally, I shouted. Today! Right now! Hell, five minutes ago! But my mouth spoke, “Um, tonight and tomorrow are both good for me.”
My nerves tingled because I felt him smile. “That sounds like a plan. Let’s shoot pool for old-time sake.”
My overactive emotions wanted to have candlelight dinner and talk about the future. Instead, I obliged.
“I haven’t been in the area for a minute. Where’s a good place to go?” he asked.
Hmmm. I pondered. I mumbled, “There’s a place in Arundel Mills, Dave and Buster’s.”
“Oh yeah, I went there with some of the fellas a while back.”
Confused as to how I should proceed, I asked, “Do you want to meet there, or would you like to come here first?”
He paused. “I’ll come through your spot first. We can go together.” He chuckled, obviously recognizing my nervousness. “Is that cool?”
“Yeah, that should be fine.”
“I hope you don’t have some dude hiding in the bushes,” he kidded.
Flattered by his insinuation of jealously, I smiled and sucked my teeth. “Boy, please.”
We both laughed, and he finalized the plans. “So, I’ll come through around eight. I’ll call to get the directions when I’m on my way.”
I stood up to browse through my closet before I said good-bye. “I’m actually not far from my parents.”
“You’re still in Bowie.”
“Yeah, right off of 450.”
“That should be
easy. I’ll call you anyway.”
After I hung a few tops over my arm, I grabbed my infamous Citizens for Humanity Kelly-Cut jeans. They were the best of low-rise, adequately covering my cotton-picking booty. I dumped the tops on my bed and began playing dress up. My final selection was a black shirt that drooped off the shoulder, one of those that could be dressed up or dressed down. With my outfit perfected, I danced anxiously around the room to the music in my head. I plopped down on my bed, bounced up and down, and chanted, “I’m going out with Scooter. Out with Scooter.”
My juvenile behavior forced me to laugh. I contemplated calling Courtney, but I refrained. Instead, I gloated in my own excitement until it was time.
I stepped out of the shower around seven-thirty. My heart thumped with anticipation. When I finally stood at the mirror, polished from head to toe, I began to feel silly.
The bell rang and startled me. My knees buckled. “Oh my God!”
Coaxing my nervous system to simmer down, I meditated. Just breathe. Be cool. Don’t trip. Act normal. Without further hesitation, I skedaddled down the stairs. My fists were balled tightly to dry the sweat. With my hand clamped on the doorknob, I took one more deep breath. Rhythmically, I exhaled and slowly turned my wrist. I paused. I prayed. The door creaked open. Scooter smiled. I melted. He wore jeans, a polo shirt, and a pair of Pumas.
He opened his arms and stepped toward me. Our bodies met. He wrapped his arms around me, “Are you going to invite me in or what?”
His presence made me speechless. I inhaled and trapped his scent in my lungs. Afraid to let go, I swallowed. How was I going to survive the whole evening? Finally I was resuscitated and exhaled, “C’mon in.”
He ended our embrace and walked in. He paced in short steps around the living room, commenting, “So this is how you’re livin’?”
He nodded approvingly. Then, he put his hand out to give me five. “You’re doing all right Ms. Jabowski.”
He was calm, composed. I stood bashful and nervous in my own home. To alleviate the awkwardness, I asked if he wanted a drink. He shook his head no. Still, I rushed into the kitchen and mixed my version of the Royal Red Apple Martini. I took a gulp and asked casual questions from afar. “So, have you had a good weekend?”