by Nikki Woods
“Stop moving!” His eyes briefly flashed anger and his hands clenched. “Honey, this is going to be more than a visit. I’m going back to Jamaica for good.”
“For good? As in forever?” I asked, as if phrasing it differently would help my brain digest what the words would mean for us and our relationship. I wasn’t ready for forever. There were still so many things that I wanted to do with him, things for us to experience together.
“I’m not disappearing off the face of the earth, Kingston,” Damon said, wrapping his arms around me.
“Yes, but it won’t be the same.” I protested, leaning into him. “When are you leaving?” I managed to squeak the words past the lump in my throat.
“In three days,” he said, and my eyes began to water. “The doctors are not giving my grandmother much longer than a week. She hasn’t been the same since my grandfather died; and my aunt says that she's been asking for me, so I need to get there as soon as possible. Three days will give me time to finish my exams and take care of other business. I’ll hire someone to box my stuff up and ship it. I’ve already booked my flight. I leave Thursday morning.”
“You did all of this without talking to me?” I pulled the sheet tighter around me and wrapped my arms around myself, trying to shut off the pain.
“I knew you’d be upset and I wanted to get as much out of the way before I told you.”
“Never mind that,” I said, plastering a smile on my face. “I’ll go with you. I can afford to take a week or so off and I’m sure my professors will be flexible since it’s an emergency. I want to be there for you, Damon.”
His face softened briefly, then the hardness returned. “I thought about that and I don’t think it’s a good idea. I need this time with my grandmother. Alone.”
I wanted to argue the fact that my own grandmother lived right up the street from his and that visiting with her would keep me occupied, but his stone face told me that his mind was made up and nothing short of a memo from God could convince him to change it. So instead of belaboring the point, I began to clean, straighten and sort. Anything to keep from looking into his eyes that were mirroring the sadness in my own.
“Three days,” I repeated and nodded as if I totally understood, but inside I was screaming against the unfairness of it all. He needed me, but he wouldn’t open up and let me in. And I didn’t know how to make him. Still in too much shock to cry and with us both consumed in our own thoughts, I slowly got dressed and for the first time in more than four months, I went home and slept in my own bed.
* * *
The next few days passed like a splash of grease in a hot cast iron pan—you knew it happened, but it was so quick you had to check to make sure. We were consumed with Damon’s impending departure. I tried to be helpful without getting in the way and refused to shed tears in front of him lest it be interpreted as a female’s underhanded attempt at a guilt trip. Not that he would have noticed. Damon remained focused; making sure everything was in order. Bank accounts were closed, newspaper delivery stopped, the message on his voice-mail changed, and an ad was placed in the paper to lease his two-flat until a broker could arrange to have it sold.
Damon was leaving for the rest of his life.
I packed his clothes and shopped for the hard-to-come-by supplies that he would need in Jamaica. I bought a ton of cards and wrote quirky little sayings in them, funny memories, and the things I loved most about him before stashing them in different suitcases and boxes so he would discover them as he unpacked. I cooked all of his favorite meals and took three rolls of pictures of myself and of us together. I massaged his temples after two long nights of studying and kissed him twice on the forehead for good luck before sending him off to take his exams. I had a bath waiting for him each evening and rubbed him down with scented oils to ease the pressure that was steadily building in his muscles. For me, I took a blue oxford shirt before he could take it to the cleaners, a pillowcase that still carried his scent, one of his favorite pens, and a bottle of Red Stripe beer to store in my refrigerator. I was looking for anything that would surround me with his spirit. As meticulous as Damon was about his possessions, he never said a word.
Our quality time was slammed between his school schedule and preparations to leave. He never said what he was expecting from us once he left and I was too chicken to ask. His grandmother’s number was scribbled in two different address books and I bought ten calling cards for each of us. Fifty self-addressed envelopes that I had taken to the post office to make sure they had the correct postage sat on my computer stand. I wanted to make the keeping-in-touch as easy as possible for both of us. I dreamed of the flowery prose he would write, detailing the extent of his missing me and the plane tickets he would send because he had to see me. I reassured myself that being apart would only make the bond between us stronger. I was optimistic. I was in love.
* * *
White containers of Chinese food covered a blanket that had been spread in the middle of his empty living room. I scooped generous helpings of Shrimp Egg Fu Yung onto flimsy paper plates while a bottle of wine chilled in a Styrofoam ice cooler, our Dixie cups already filled to the brim with the first round. Will Downing was crooning in the background. Damon jumped up and dimmed the lights. The candles flickered as he returned to the blanket and accepted the paper plate I handed him.
“It couldn’t be more perfect,” I said. With only one night left, I was determined to show Damon how I felt about him.
“I couldn’t agree more, Kingston. I couldn’t agree more,” he repeated, lifting a glass in salute, his brown eyes darkening as they held mine until I no longer recognized time or place. His eyes conveyed to me all the things he hadn’t been able to say. And for now, that was enough.
I didn’t remember us finishing the food or drinking a whole bottle of wine. What I did remember was pushing the carton and the bottle aside and Damon pulling me to lay alongside him on the faded green army blanket. He wrapped the edges around us then rolled onto his back, pulling me on top of him. He caressed my face before bringing it closer to his and nibbling slowly on my bottom lip, his tongue darting out to tease the corners of my mouth. I held out as long as I could before I kissed him in the way that turned him on. I wished that it could last forever, but Damon was restless and the blanket was a hindrance so he tossed it to the side before rolling us into the reverse position, pinning me beneath him. This time he lovingly tortured my earlobe before traveling down to my neck, leaving a trail of kisses over my collarbone and between my breasts before he lay his head on my chest. I held on, content to feel his heart beating against my stomach.
“Awwww! Kingston,” he breathed. “I need you so much tonight.” His hands wormed their way beneath me and cupped my butt, pulling me upward until I was certain about the intensity of his need.
“I need you, too, baby,” I replied just as breathless. He was still for a minute longer before sitting up and pulling his t-shirt over his head in one fluid motion. Looking at him was a joy and I indulged myself before following suit. Soon, our clothes were scattered around us. As I reached to unfasten my bra, Damon stopped me.
“Let me.” He stood up before reaching down and pulling me to my feet. His eyes drank me in and I was glad that for once I had listened to Essence and bought a new bra and panty set from Victoria’s Secret. His finger trailed down the lace eyelet that trimmed the cream bra cup.
One hand rested lightly in the sweet slope right above my hip. He turned me around and lifted my hair, kissing the back of my neck, then unhooked the clasp of my bra before turning me back to face him. I slowly slid the straps over my shoulders and let the bra drop carelessly to the floor.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said before teasing my right nipple with his tongue. My navel was next on his list of things to do. I never knew someone could enjoy a belly button so much. I soon learned about other things that he liked more. When Damon’s tongue dropped lower, much lower, I had to brace myself to keep from exploding.
�
��I want you to make love to me, Damon,” I said; and before he answered, I kissed him again, becoming intoxicated on my own essence.
“Kingston, are you sure?” I took his hand and moved it until my wetness seeped onto his hand. “I don’t think I could deny being sure, even if I wanted to.”
“You gotta be sure, baby.” He paused. “I mean really sure. You’ve always said you wanted to wait.”
“And I did wait. I waited for you and now I’m ready to share everything with you. Don’t deny that you want me.”
He shook his head as I ground my hips against his, molding my body to him. The next kiss lasted as if we had all the time in the world. “You won’t regret it, Kingston. I promise,”Damon replied and sank himself inside of me.
After another thirty minutes of exquisite torture I thought, “Damon sure is a man of his word.”
* * *
Dulles International Airport buzzed with the stream of holiday travelers. It was early Thursday morning and Damon was wearing a red Howard University baseball cap and a blue nylon windbreaker; he held his laptop computer carrier. A briefcase rested by his feet.
Everything else would be shipped later that day. Damon’s life had fit neatly in no more than ten U-Haul boxes.
There were no words, no promises, but I could feel his heart breaking against mine as I grabbed two fistfuls of nylon and tugged him into me, held my breath, and tried to keep my heart from exploding. His lips moved against my hair, my ear and he whispered, “Kingston, my love,” over and over again. I pushed my teary face further into his neck and tried to contain my sobs.
When a whiny airline employee announced, “Last boarding call for Air Jamaica Flight427, nonstop to Kingston, Jamaica,” over the intercom system, it startled us both.
Damon was the first to pull away. He took my face in his hands and as I cupped his face in mine, I fought against the urge to beg him not to leave. He wiped away the wetness stinging my face as a lonely tear rolled down his. Unashamed, Damon let it slide down his cheek and over his chin. I dabbed at the streak it left with a tissue. “We’re gonna be a mess,” I said with a slight smile.
“You’ve made me so happy, Kingston. I love you,” he said, kissing my quivering lips.
Then he walked away, never once slowing his stride, not turning back for a final glance.
I felt his absence as strongly as if a limb had been sawed off. What I didn’t know was that his absence would be more than temporary. Damon was walking out of my life for good.
* * *
A gust of air whooshed from my lungs as if I’d been sucker punched. It happened from time to time when I contemplated my loss or tried to figure out what I had done to make Damon end our relationship. When I realized that I had no choice but to untangle his future from mine, I wondered when had Damon become such a part of my life that I doubted I’d ever be able to go on without him. Broken hearts make you stop and second-guess everything. I thought I’d go crazy with the questions that marched though my head twenty-four hours a day. What was he thinking? What was he doing? Was his heart twisted in as much pain as mine?
One never knew what pain was until you’ve had your heart broken: Til you got a lump so big in your throat that you doubted that you’re going to be able to breathe again; Til the tears started to fall and you didn’t think they’d ever stop. Enough tears to fill the Mississippi River two times over. You couldn’t put a Band-Aid over this kind of pain. Phone calls to my mother didn’t even help.
“Kingston, no amount of kisses from mommy is gonna take the sting away,” she said with her lilting Jamaican accent as I sobbed on the phone one Sunday. “I know you’re hurting, baby. This is something every woman deals with at least once in her life. Mine was when your father left. I still get angry when I think that man I loved so desperately left me all alone to face Pa-pa with you in my belly.
“You can’t go around it, over it, or under it. The only way is through it. Suck up the hurt, Kingston, and do your best to go on. And remember, there are three versions to every story: yours, his and the truth.”
It wasn’t what I wanted to hear at the time. My world as I knew it had dissolved. By February—two months since Damon left—I had only received three postcards and two phone calls, initiated by him; one call to report his arrival and the second to inform me of his grandmother’s death.
I wept my way through Valentine’s Day with not a peep from Damon. Holding one of the postcards in my hands, I read it one more time before passing it to Keela and Essence, making them read it again for the umpteenth time. On the front was a picture of Dunn’s River Falls and on the back, scribbled in his lazy scrawl: Kingston, I love you. Forever and three days. Damon. I had no idea how short forever really was. Blowing my nose loudly, I crumpled the tissue and threw it into the wastebasket.
“Two points.” Keela giggled through a mouth full of cheap wine.
“This is serious, Keela.”
We were sitting on the living room floor of my apartment. My pink cordless phone sat in the middle of the circle surrounded by scattered candy bar wrappers. And as I silently willed it to ring for the millionth time, Keela at least had the decency to look properly chastised.
I shoved another piece of candy in my mouth. “I mean really, why is it that a dude just can’t call when he says he’s gonna call or do what he says he’s gonna do? It only takes a minute to pick up the phone and let a woman know something. Honestly, not knowing is worse than anything.” Damon’s last phone call was seven days ago and I had already called him eighteen times, but left only four messages. I wasn’t going to call him again.
Essence was filing her nails. “Maybe men and women are talking a whole ‘notha language like that dude says in his book, Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus. It’s even harder for black people, because we have to figure Ebonics into the mix.”
Keela giggled again, droplets of wine flying from her mouth.
“You can’t have anything else to drink, Keela. You’re already silly enough. Alcohol just makes it worse,” Essence commented.
I looked at the phone for good measure and as I tugged on the cord to see if it had been pulled out by accident, I knew that I had hit an all-time low; amazing the depths that a woman in love would sink to.
Another pain ripped through my heart. Essence finished with her fingernails, then painted her big toe in Maybelline’s Outrageous Orange. She wiggled it for approval. I nodded while Keela shook her head. Essence didn’t pay any mind to us; she just concentrated on her toes.
“Are you two listening to me? I’m in crisis over here. Why don’t men just do what they say they’re gonna do? If they’d do that, then we wouldn’t be so damn crazy..”
“You ain’t nevah’ lied!” Keela was always on my side.
Essence blew on her toes and looked at us with a smirk. “My question is: why are you sittin’ around waiting for some dude to call when you know he’s trifling like that? My motto: leave them before they leave you and sleep with one of their friends just for good measure. Ain’t no man gonna do for me what I can do for myself. I’m looking for perks, ladies. Diamonds, furs, a nice thick,” Essence paused. “Well, you know what, and a man that knows what to do with it and then he can take his ass home when he’s done. I ain’t looking for no phone call or sweet promises that don’t add up to a hill of beans.”
It took a lot to see through Essence’s bullshit, but somewhere inside was a scared little girl who believed in fairy tales. I needed to believe that or I wouldn’t like her so much.
Essence picked up a wide-tooth comb and a small gold container of Kemi Oil then motioned me over. I dropped between her legs and she parted my hair in four equal sections and began tuggin’ through the tangled strands. “Essence, don’t you ever just want to be in love, get married and have babies?” I asked, but before the question left my mouth, Essence was swiveling my head so that I was looking up at her.
She grasped my chin and with her eyes bearing down on mine, spread one arm wide and sa
id, “And ruin this beautiful body? You gotta be out of your mind! Marriage, babies, and happily-ever-after is a trap. Men marry you, get you pregnant, then you’re trapped at home with a baby to take care of and what is he doing?” Essence didn’t wait for a response. “I’ll tell you what he's doing. He’s out living his life as he damn well pleases—going out with his boys, sleeping with women who have no stretch marks, playing golf, schmoozing and cruising. Meanwhile, you’re at home with a baby attached to your saggy breast. Ladies, I ain’t the one.”
“But, your parents are still together.” Keela stood and traipsed into the kitchen to grab a soda and another bag of potato chips. She dropped back on the floor and pulled the bag open with a satisfying pop.
“And? What’s your point?” Essence roughly massaged the oil into my scalp. She was planning on braiding and then twisting my hair into a French roll. I had a series of job interviews scheduled in the upcoming week and I wanted a no-fuss professional look. I tried to hold my head as still as possible. With my sensitive scalp and Essence’s heavy hands, if she got any more passionate, I wouldn't survive.
“Well, they seem so happy when they come to visit.” Keela poured some chips on a napkin and passed them to me.
“That’s part of the brainwashing. My dad has my mom believing she’s happy. She’s got three great children, she’s never had to work and only does that talent scout thing because she wants to, she’s got a huge house, an extensive wardrobe, and all the diamonds her heart desires. On the surface, it’s a life any woman would envy. But it’s a farce and my mom has bought into it. My dad’s had a girlfriend since I was twelve. She’s young, gorgeous, and doesn’t have to work either—not outside the house anyway. Her job is to please dear old daddy until his brains fall out. Holidays and babies are not in her contract. Face it, ladies,” she said as she finished off one braid. “Men run the world. The sooner you guys figure that out, the better off you’ll be.”