Love Lost (Love's Improbable Possibility)

by Belvin, Love

  I closed the door and went over to check my voicemail. There were several messages from my realtor telling me the paper work went through; my offer on the house was accepted and I needed to set up an appointment for closing with the sellers. I called him immediately to apologize and we set up a date that was two days away. When I hung up the phone, I exhaled and told myself I had a lot of work to do.

  Chapter 7

  Rayna

  Just after the closing of the house, while walking to my car I called Michelle to give her the news. She hit me with bigger news than I had for her. Michelle told me that she’d been diagnosed with cancer. I jumped in my car and flew to her place. She was sitting in the living room with her housecoat on looking a mess. I could tell she hadn’t been watching television though she sat in front of it while it was powered on. I sat on the ottoman adjacent to the couch where she was.

  I sprung right into my questions starting with, “Shelly, aren’t you too young to have breast cancer?”

  “No. It runs heavily in my family,” she responded with a fixated glance somewhere into the distance.

  “This is the first time you’ve told me this. How heavily?”

  “Rayna, I’ve never told you much about my mom because it’s too painful to even think about her.” Michelle drew out a long exhale in a fortifying attempt. I braced myself. “She died of breast cancer at the age of thirty-four. I was seventeen and devastated. For many years, I blamed her for allowing the cancer to eat away at her. Now, it’s come back to show me who’s boss.” She burst out in tears. I went to physically console her but I didn’t know what to say.

  “Na-Na, I swore I’d never let a disease separate me from my children. Never! And the doctors are telling me this cancer is extremely aggressive and they can’t make any promises. What am I supposed to tell Erin? I don’t even know who her dad is. Who’s going to take care of my baby?” She sobbed into my arms.

  I cried along with her. It was all I could do. I couldn’t imagine my life without Michelle. I cried for us. We sat for a while in our embrace, I’m sure with both our thoughts running wild. I had nowhere to be. Nothing else mattered. She was my world.

  I was there so long that before I knew it Erin had come home from school. Michelle’s younger cousin, Amber, had picked her up. Amber never liked me. In fact, she was in PT school trying to take my position. She hated me from the time I’d met Michelle back at NC State. She barely spoke to me and made it very clear to Michelle that she thought I was beneath them. Michelle never paid her much mind and neither did I because she was so young. But ever since I’d been in L.A. she made no secret that she wanted to run the practice in Long Branch City. To be honest, the only reason she hadn’t been was because she didn’t have the credentials at the time. Whenever we saw one another we’d say hello, but it was very cold and forced. I always said if it weren’t for Michelle, I’d beat her snobbish ass senseless. After our arctic greeting, Amber asked Michelle if she could take Erin out to dinner.

  Erin had other plans. “Mommy, could I spend the night at Auntie Na-Na’s? Please mommy, please!” she begged.

  Amber, of course, wasn’t happy with that request at all. Michelle politely said, “Honey, your cousin, Amber, just invited you out to dinner—”

  “But Mommy, you promised to take me to Auntie Na-Na. You said when she came back from her trip.” I wanted to interject so bad and tell her that she was more than welcome to stay with me after seeing that disappointed face but decided against it.

  “Well, that is true, Amber. Would you mind?” Michelle asked as she looked at Amber with puppy dog eyes of her own.

  “If you insist…” Amber muttered with attitude.

  “Well, do you mind, Rayna?” She turned to me realizing she needed to clear it with me first.

  “Not at all.” I knew Michelle needed the time alone and I never missed out on the opportunity to play auntie to little Erin. She was irresistible. Shortly thereafter Amber left.

  Michelle wanted to stop by and see my new home before we parted ways. I took the girls by the house and Erin was excited to pick out her room. The house was ranch-style with three bedrooms, two walk-in closets, two and a half bathrooms, full kitchen, step down living room, a separate dining room, and a modest-sized den.

  “This place is gorgeous, Na-Na! I’m so proud of you! How did you find it?” Michelle asked with pride. It was more than I thought a person could offer considering the blow she’d just been dealt. I fought like hell to suppress my tears for now.

  “Azmir gave me a realtor that had business in the areas I was interested in. And it didn’t take long either. If I hadn’t gone away, I would have been in last week maybe. Don’t you love the smell of fresh paint?” I inhaled deeply.

  “Yeah, now we have to throw you a house warming. When do you plan to get furniture?” she asked enthusiastically. I wasn’t too fond of that idea. As far as I was concerned, there was no one to invite but her.

  “I was hoping you could tell me when bonuses would be available. If mine is decent I can use that to help furnish this place.”

  “Now, Rayna, you know you have money stored away.” Michelle teased.

  “Actually my savings has grown slim. I had to put a down payment on this baby and I sent a chunk back East.” She knew I was referring to Akeem’s legal fees.

  “Well, if my memory serves me correctly with increased profits within this quarter alone you should be expecting a nice piece of change,” she murmured while inspecting every door in the living area.

  After taking a tour of the outside, I dropped Michelle off. Erin and I went back to my apartment and started packing. She wasn’t such a good helper. Little E fell asleep about an hour after her dinner. “It’s okay,” I whispered while I carried her to the bed and tucked her in. I went and put on an Isley Brothers’ CD and starting grooving to “For the Love of You”. After dancing by myself, I filled several boxes with things from my living room and dinette area. Next, I went into the kitchen and then the bathroom. Once that was done, so was I, I crashed on my couch.

  Seconds later,I get a text from Azmir. “What are you up to?”

  I realized I hadn’t spoken to him since our return almost a week ago.

  “Just about to go tobed…” I texted back.

  “Wish I was there.”

  “I bet you do :-).” That was partly true, I’d willed Azmir to my bed since our trip to Mexico.

  “Just checking in with you. Hope to see you soon.”

  “Me too. Goodnight.” I ended the correspondence.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Azmir

  Damn, I realized I hadn’t seen Rayna since Mexico. Things had gotten so busy with work, I’d been traveling relentlessly leaving little room for a social life. Once I’d finally gotten a moment to breathe, I thought about her, reminisced over our time together in Mexico. I enjoyed her and couldn’t wait until I was able to get her alone again. I pulled out my watch and noticed it wasn’t too late in the hour on the Pacific Coast, so I texted her. I thought she’d be asleep but she responded. I didn’t know where things were going between us but was cool with it. I could wait it out; I wasn’t pressed. But every time I thought about what she felt like in my arms those nights in Mexico, it intensified my craving of her.

  I was in my hotel room at the Adolphus in Dallas. I had been in town for a minority enterprise convention at the Dallas Convention Center. I didn’t want to go but I promised my boys, Mark and Eric, that we’d hang out together. I have to admit being in and out of workshops, including morning sessions, wasn’t my idea of hanging but Eric was the keynote speaker so we had to support him.

  There was a knock at the door. It was Mark.

  “Are you ready, man? What have you been doing in here, beating your meat?” Mark joked.

  “Oh nah, I was waiting on you to come and do it for me. I know that’s your steez and all!” I jeered as I walked over to the dresser to grab my wallet and keys.

  “What the hell are you smiling at? You g
otta love jones or something, Jacobs?”

  “You don’t know the half!” I murmured much to myself before turning to leave so that we could grab a bite.

  Over dinner, after the usual laughter and piggish banter we normally do, things got really serious between us. I guess after five bottles of Krug anyone would get a little emotional. Eric informed us of his impending divorce from NaTasha. I was blown away to say the least. He said that things had changed in their three year marriage.

  “Dawg, it’s everything…the sex, conversation, even the way she smells!” Eric cried.

  Mark and I burst into laughing fits. Mark even spit out his drink. He took a few seconds to gather himself. “How in the hell does her scent change? What do you mean…her vaginal odor?” Mark asked.

  “No! It’s her hair and overall body odor, bro! I don’t know what to do. I’m telling you, one of these fresh graduate collegiate dames was about to be victimized over the weekend,” Eric said damn near in tears. I didn’t have anything to offer; marriage was way off my radar. I didn’t want anything to do with it.

  “Okay! Is this Usher’s confession time?” Mark asked making it obvious he had a bomb to drop. Eric and I just looked at dude waiting for his announcement.

  “I’m in love, ya’ll!” Mark divulged with reluctant grandeur fueled by shame.

  “Okay, motherfucker!” Eric said sounding corny as hell, per usual.

  “With who, man?” I asked. I couldn’t take the suspense.

  “Okay, before I disclose this sensitive information let’s establish a few rules…” Mark attempted.

  “Man, if you don’t get on with the bullshit!” I threatened. I couldn’t take this 90210 moment. That’s one thing about this click. They were ivy-leaguers and while that had benefits to our relationship, it came along with characteristics I could do without and they are melodrama and cornball-ism. I mean, I’m a street dude. I can articulate my speech to express my thoughts unlike like your average hood cat and that’s all a part of my hustler’s mentality, but at times like this our differences surfaced and so did my lack of patience.

  “Okay! Okay! She’s lily white! There, I said it!” Mark pushed out in total embarrassment. He stilled in his seat with his head hung south awaiting the backlash.

  “WHAT!?” Eric literally screamed in high pitch.

  “I know, man…I know! It just happened…and now I can’t get the snowflake out of my head. I feel so…un-ethnic!” he whispered.

  “What the hell is un-ethnic? Are you submitting that term to Merriam-Webster?” Eric asked sarcastically. “I thought you had rules, my brother. No cream in your coffee! I can’t believe you, Mr. ‘I’m going to assemble a walk out the minute the university announces the installation of another Caucasian dean of the school of business’!” Eric jeered. Him being with a Caucasian woman wasn’t news, but we enjoyed teasing Mark. All I could do was laugh my ass off. We were a disturbance in the restaurant at this point.

  “Damn you, Azmir!” Mark cried.

  “What?” I said barely fighting through my laughter.

  “I would expect you to say something—call me a sellout or revoke my NAACP card, but don’t laugh in my damn face, man!” he hissed appearing serious as hell.

  “My bad, man. It’s just that I could see that it’s really got you fucked up in the head. I mean, you shouldn’t take it so seriously; it’s just a relationship. You may feel differently next month. Don’t sweat it, my dude,” I said before taking another swig of my drink.

  “Wow. That’s really profound coming from “the player” from the hood!” Mark mocked, still riding me.

  “What? Ya’ll niggas ain’t getting all oink on me are you? C’mon, it ain’t that serious! If you bangin’ the broad have fun! You’re not deciding on brain surgery or cancer treatment; her skin color doesn’t matter. It’s a broad!!” I accentuated the word.

  “You know Azmir, I don’t know why I’m expecting constructive and well-guided advice on relationships from someone who’s probably never even told his woman of what?…Six years—that he loves her. Gee, how many times have you allowed her to travel with you or have taken her on vacations? You barely spent five minutes with her unless you were making love—oh, ‘my bad’ you don’t make love, you ‘smash’, right?” Mark’s gestured air quotations were killing me. He was really offended as he continued. “You have no desire to try real love. Why? Would it not be the ‘cool’ thing to do? Mark seethed in all his melodramatic flare.

  If I didn’t know him as well as I did I’d think he was a fruitcake. Shit, I knew gay men who were more masculine than he could be. This sounded like it was trying to get serious. I had to remember these guys couldn’t handle their liquor and Mark was the worst of all. I couldn’t let the conversation take the wrong route.

  “Okay, first of all, you’ve had too much to drink because now you’re acting like a little bitch. Second of all, I have told Tara I loved her even when I didn’t. Thirdly, I do desire love. In fact, I have a shortie that could be that one right now. Lastly, what did I tell you about making fun of my leisure vernacular? Do I talk about how you still call ya’ moms every night before bed?” Although true, I tried to throw in the last line for comic relief. This dude can get extremely sensitive when he’s drinking. Eric fell out laughing. I had to join him after looking at Mark trying to process what I’d just finish saying.

  “Do you mean to tell me someone has caught your attention for more than one night?” Mark’s mouth hung open as he sat erected in his chair. He’s such a fuckin’ herb.

  “I ain’t even hit yet,” I spurred with sophistication in my tone to further get under his skin.

  “How long have you known her?” Eric suddenly asked in disbelief.

  “Yeah, a brother needs to know!” Mark chimed in.

  “I met her at the top of the year but we’ve been kicking it since…like February,” I stated proudly. There was a pregnant pause. To do the math in terms of time, Mark’s gaze fell upon the table while Eric stared at something in the distance behind me.

  “How long before you dump her, Azmir?” Eric asked resolutely.

  “Well, she’s still marketing herself. So far she’s doing a hell of job,” I informed with confidence. But I still need to taste that ass. My dick got hard just thinking about it.

  “No, what he means is how long will it be before you get tired of the Virgin Mary act?” Mark thought he’d clarify.

  “Yeah Az, you know women throw their panties at you. You’re not the holding out type!” Eric heckled, and although he tried to mask it, I knew his assumptions were genuine.

  I sat there and questioned why I was subjecting myself to this judgmental interrogation. My goons back in L.A. wouldn’t dare question my game. There are just some lines we don’t cross and this was one of them. They may ask if I hit it or if I was really feeling a chic but never this touchy-feely shit these dudes loved analyzing.

  “If ass is what I need, I can make a call and guess what—ass is what I’ll get. You guys are killing my character and you’re supposed to be my boys…two of few who I call friends,” I tried to sound offended.

  “Yeah, but Az—” Mark tried until I interrupted.

  “…I’ve had my fair share of women. That’s not news to us but what is—is that I’ll be turning thirty-seven in a couple of months. I need the right woman to continue this journey with,” I used a bit of candor.

  “What type of woman? A hood rat?” Eric asked and he and Mark cracked the hell up.

  “Nah, a woman with class…” I tried to explain once they were done.

  “Define class,” Eric demanded. “The classiest woman you’ve taken seriously was Tara,” he continued.

  “Try the only woman,” Mark scoffed.

  “Well…” I paused before continuing. I contemplated getting so personal with them about private matters. I’m not comfortable discussing them.

  “Well…what’s her name? Tell us about her,” Mark insisted.

  I figured what the
hell. “Her name is Rayna Brimm. She’s a physical therapist at a sports medicine center in one of my suites on the rec’s property.”

  “Describe her!” Mark drooled.

  “Come on, man. You’re buggin’,” I warned.

  “Okay, you’re making it up!” Eric slapped the table, attempting reverse psychology.

  “Why do I even bother with you guys, man! Eric, man, you wanna know what she smells like, too?” I yelled in jest, to which Mark fell over in laughter.

  “Give it up, Jacobs!” Mark tried taking a breath, asking for more information.

  “…acting real female-like!” I mumbled to myself before saying out loud, “Her glowing brown skin is more like a caramel shade, she’s about five foot seven and weighs between one thrity-five and one forty. She’s a dime for real. Her conversation is inspiring and she loves to laugh…even makes jokes about herself. She’s familiar and mysterious all at the same time…like she doesn’t press me for much, and as stimulating as that is, it makes me wonder if the reason why is because she doesn’t want to be pressed. Of course, that would mean she has something to hide. I just wanna make sure she’s legit, you know?!” I said waking from my trance.

  “You’re serious…?” Eric declared, appearing really shocked.

  “Oh, yeah,” I answered with furrowed eyebrows.

  Shaking his head, Mark alleged, “No! Jacobs is making this all up. It’s just as he used to do in undergrad. He’s pulling our chain!”

  “Come on, man! You’re buggin’!” I blew off the comment with a wave.

  Eric reasoned, “Azmir, I’ve never heard you speak of a woman as if she’s more than an object created for orgasms. If this Rayna Brimm really exists it means you’re evolving, man. Cheers to you!” he lifted his glass to me.

  “I’m having a reopening at my club in Venice in two weeks. We just got confirmation of the performer. If this girl truly exists—materialize her there!” Mark assumed he had cornered me.