Things Forbidden

by Maryam Diaab

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t asked him about it. My friend asked me not to.”

  “It’s not like I’m trying to help Terrence out or anything like that, but are you sure that your friend is being completely honest with you?”

  “Of course she’s being honest with me. Why would she lie? What would she have to gain from Terrence and me breaking up?” I said staunchly, feeling slightly offended.

  “Maybe she wants your man. Why else would she ask you not to mention anything to Terrence? I’ve heard some crazy stories about women concocting all kinds of devious plans to get at their girlfriend. Just be careful, that’s all I’m saying.”

  “She asked me not to say anything because she wasn’t sure if there was anything going on. It could have been nothing more than an innocent lunch with a coworker. Wendy would never do that to me, Ajani,” I said, shaking off the memory of Wendy refusing to talk to me for weeks when she found out Terrence and I had become an item in college.

  “I’m sure she wouldn’t, baby; I was just giving you some food for thought.”

  “I hope you didn’t bring me up here to talk about Terrence and Wendy,” I said reprovingly.

  “Actually, I brought you here to talk about us.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Really. Yvette, my feelings for you are getting serious, and after the run-in with Terrence, I need to know where your head is.”

  “Ajani, I’m not at all sure I understand what you want from me. Where do you expect this thing between us to go?”

  “Honestly? I would love for you to break off your engagement to Terrence and have all your stuff shipped from Detroit. Then we could move in together and you could give me lots of babies.”

  I laughed, forming a mental picture of his ideal arrangement. “No marriage? Just us in your one-bedroom apartment with seven kids?”

  “Of course we would get married. What kind of man do you think my father raised?”

  “So are you proposing to me?”

  “That depends. Is Terrence still a permanent fixture in your life?”

  I turned slightly and caressed Ajani’s face. “I can’t break up with Terrence,” I said, regret in my voice. “He has the stability I need.”

  “Then I’m not proposing to you.” He laughed slightly, pretending he was joking, but I knew he was quite serious.

  “If you can’t marry me, what will you settle for?” I asked. I couldn’t give Ajani everything he wanted, but I couldn’t let him go, either.

  “At the very least, friends with benefits,” Ajani answered.

  “That’s all we can ever be, Ajani. I really like you; more than like you, actually. But we’re worlds apart, and anything more than ‘friends with benefits’ would never work between us.” I don’t know when it happened, but Ajani had taken over my emotions, and I was feeling things for him that I had never felt for another man. He was everything that Terrence wasn’t: sweet, romantic, attentive and sympathetic. He was as close to perfect as a man could be.

  “You more than like me? What does that mean?” I felt Ajani’s hands beginning to roam where they had never been. Slowly but urgently, my body began to ache as Ajani’s touch heightened my senses. “Is love anywhere in the equation?” he asked, reaching deeper underneath the blanket. His hands circled my waist and he quickly pulled my snug-fitting, long sleeved t-shirt over my head tossed it near the sliding glass door.

  “I feel as if I’m getting to that point, and it’s a little scary,” I admitted, nearly out of breath. In the time Ajani and I had known each other, something more than lust had grown between us. In a perfect world, Ajani and I were meant for each other. In a way, he represented everything that I wanted to be—aggressive, confident, and rebellious. More important, he made me completely happy. Ajani produced a feeling in me that I had never known. When we were apart, I felt tortured. I needed him, and that was the scariest realization of all.

  Ajani unbuttoned my jeans and looked into my eyes as if asking permission to remove them. I wordlessly took his face between my hands and kissed him, enjoying the feeling of my pants being slowly pushed down to my ankles, eventually landing in a heap on the deck.

  “You can still turn back, Yvette. It’s not too late.”

  I didn’t want to turn back. At that moment, I wanted Ajani more than I had ever wanted anything or anyone, and I intended to have him. “From the moment we met, I knew there was no turning back.”

  After removing his clothes, Ajani sat back on the chaise as I stood over him, shivering in the darkness. “Are you okay?” he asked, reaching out and softly touching my thigh. I nodded and brought my body down upon his.

  We melted together seamlessly—minds, bodies, hearts and souls rolling against one another like the ocean. The wind blew and the fire had burned to ash, but I felt nothing except Ajani’s skin, his scent mingling with mine. He pushed my hair back from my face, and one hand found my bare back and the other my bottom as Ajani guided me, our rhythms becoming one.

  “It’s snowing,” he said, as several flakes fell and melted on our hot flesh.

  I held on to Ajani, feeling nothing but pleasure, pain and warmth. “There is no turning back, is there?” I asked, as he exploded inside me. The love I felt for him was undeniable; I never wanted to let him go.

  “As you said before, Yvette,” Ajani responded, after catching his breath, “there never was.”

  Wendy

  22

  “Ms. Web, we need you at the desk in five minutes,” my assistant, Vivian, called through the bathroom door.

  “I’ll be there, Vivian, I just need a minute!” I responded angrily. I was sick of her giving me minute-by-minute airtime warnings. I had told her I was on my way, and that should have been enough.

  I looked in the mirror and sighed. Dark circles had formed under my eyes in the past few days, and the look of exhaustion I carried around with me was very noticeable. Thank God for the station’s makeup artist.

  Taking a deep breath, I opened the door to the bathroom and slowly began walking down the cramped hallway to the well-lit news desk.

  “You look beautiful,” Vivian gushed as I slid into the seat next to Rick Forest and read over my stories for the morning. My head swam and the exact same feeling that had come over me at dinner with Terrence hit me again, only it was stronger. It felt as if the temperature had risen to one hundred degrees and my legs, arms and neck had turned to Jell-O.

  “Are you okay, Wendy? Can I get you anything?” Rick asked, touching my hand with concern.

  “No, you can’t get her anything! We go live in thirty seconds,” the producer yelled from his glass box above the stage.

  I watched as the cameraman held up five fingers for the countdown. Four, three, two…

  “Wendy? Wendy?” Vivian called, frantically fanning my face with a newspaper. “She’s awake, everybody; she’s okay!”

  I slowly pulled my hand out of her grasp and rubbed the back of my head. I felt searing pain, so I closed my eyes and rested my head on the cold tiled floor. “What happened?” I wondered, not remembering anything except the countdown to air.

  “You fainted just as we went live. Fell right out of your seat and onto the floor. Someone is bringing my car around, so I can take you to the emergency room.” Vivian offered, helping me into a sitting position. My head was throbbing relentlessly.

  “Viv, I do not need to go to the hospital. I need to get back into my chair. Who’s covering for me?”

  “Rick’s doing the entire show by himself, and yes, you do need to see a doctor. I have never seen anyone faint like that. I thought you were having a heart attack. You should see the phone lines. People are calling to make sure you’re still alive.”

  “Great,” I said letting Vivian lead me out of the station and to her car. “Now viewers are going to think I’m strung out on something.”

  “No, no. Rick announced that you’re suffering from exhaustion. Everyone who has called has been very sympathetic.”

 
Vivian drove the few miles to Riverview Hospital in record time. When we arrived, I was greeted by a patient advocate, who explained that the station had called ahead. A room and doctor were waiting for me.

  “Good morning, Ms. Web, I’m Dr. Thompson and we’ve been expecting you,” a tall, hazelnut-colored doctor said, shaking my hand gently. “I was actually watching the news when you took your little spill…pretty nasty. Can you describe the symptoms you were experiencing before you fainted?”

  “Dizziness. My body got really hot, and my limbs felt like Jell-O,” I explained, attempting to remain poised while wearing the flimsy hospital gown.

  “Is today the first time you’ve experienced these symptoms?” Dr. Thompson asked, making several notations on his clipboard.

  “No, I felt the same way about a week ago at dinner with a friend, but today was much worse.”

  “And when was your last menstrual period?”

  “What does that have to do with me passing out?” I asked, slightly annoyed.

  “Ms. Web, when dealing with women, we always like to rule out pregnancy as soon as possible. That way, if you’re really ill, we can run the proper tests.”

  “Well, Dr. Thompson, I am definitely not pregnant. As a matter of fact, I just had a period.”

  “Was this period normal?”

  “Normal?”

  “Was it like all your other periods? Was it the type you’re used to?”

  I took a deep breath and resisted the urge to ask for another doctor. “No, it wasn’t, if you must know. I just had about three days of spotting, but it was a period nonetheless, and I know that pregnant woman do not have periods.”

  “No, most pregnant woman don’t, but early on there can be some spotting. I think we should test your blood just to be sure.”

  With a roll of my eyes, I consented to the blood test. After Dr. Know-It-All realized that I wasn’t pregnant, maybe he would get to the bottom of the real reason I couldn’t stay conscious.

  An hour, three packs of graham crackers and four tiny cartons of apple juice later, the doctor came back in with that stupid clipboard in hand.

  “Well, Ms. Web, I have your test results here…” He sat on the swiveling stool and scooted closer to me.

  “Am I dying or what?” I joked, hoping that wasn’t the case.

  “No. Actually, Ms. Web, you’re not dying, you’re pregnant.”

  I laughed loudly, slapping my hand on my thigh. “Very funny. I guess you’ve got jokes because I gave you such a hard time earlier. What’s my real diagnosis, doctor?”

  “Ms. Web, Wendy, I’m not joking. You are certainly pregnant. You had just enough HCG in your blood to test positive. I’m sure you’re very early in your pregnancy.”

  “Just enough? No, sorry, I think you better run the test again, and when it comes back that I’m not pregnant, you better pray to God that I don’t sue you for pain and suffering,” I demanded loudly, even though I knew that my threat was completely ridiculous. But I didn’t care. I did not find this man funny.

  “I had the lab run the test three times because you were so adamant about not being pregnant. We can do a vaginal exam or an ultrasound if you like. The last thing I want is for you to bad-mouth me on the news because you think I made a mistake.”

  I sat with my head in my hands as the doctor prepared the ultrasound machine. This couldn’t be happening. I never missed my pill, not once. Obviously, the doctor didn’t know what he was talking about, and I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when the ultrasound showed that my uterus is just as empty as it was the day I was born.

  “Okay, this may be a little cold,” he said, squirting a glob of icy blue gel on my stomach before placing the ultrasound wand on my skin.

  He moved it up and down, and just as I got ready to blurt out, “Ha, I told you I wasn’t pregnant,” he smiled and pointed at the screen.

  “See, right there? That thing that looks like a small kidney bean, that’s your baby.”

  Ajani

  23

  I told Yvette that we were having dinner in, sort of luring her to my apartment after work with promises of my fried chicken and spending the rest of the night in bed. It wasn’t the complete truth, but it wasn’t a complete lie, either. Fried chicken was on the menu and we could spend the night in bed after my father and brothers left.

  Their visit had been planned since shortly after Yvette and I returned from the bluff. I called my brothers after dropping Yvette off at her apartment and told them that she was definitely the one for me.

  “This chick has got your nose open!” Dakari had laughed into the phone. “I need to meet her!”

  “I want you to meet her, but—”

  “But, nothing. Me, Jabari and Dad will be there next weekend.” And that was that. I’d tried to convince them otherwise, coming up with every plausible excuse I could think of, but nothing worked. Once my father and brothers decided on something, it was pretty much a done deal and nothing you could do or say would change a thing.

  I had broached the subject of meeting my family with Yvette several times, and her response was always the same. “You take women to meet your family when you’re serious about them, Ajani, and I thought we agreed that ‘a friend with benefits’ is not serious.”

  Yes, that is what we agreed, but I had other plans for our relationship and, therefore, having her meet my family was an excellent idea, at least in theory.

  “She’s late,” my father said, checking his watch for the billionth time since he’d arrived. He sat on the sofa looking as if he had come straight from the office. Dakari and Jabari sat on either side of him, one in jeans and the other in khakis, but nonetheless looking like the same person split in two.

  “Five minutes, Dad. Why don’t you cut her some slack?” I said. A soft knock on the door erased the irritation from my face and replaced it with a smile. “She’s here. Please try to be as nice as possible.”

  “Oh, she’s a big girl. I’m sure she can handle anything we dish out,” Jabari said, a devious smirk on his face.

  “That’s enough, Jabari,” my father warned.

  I went to the door and opened it slowly. I expected Yvette to be upset, maybe even furious, that I had misled her, but I hoped she would be happy that she finally met the members of my family.

  “How was your day?” she asked seductively. She was wearing a knee-length black trench coat, parted low at the collar and revealing a red lacy bra. She wore candy-apple red stilettos and furry pink handcuffs dangled from one hand. “What’s wrong, Ajani?” she asked, pouting slightly. “Don’t you like what you see?” Yvette untied the belt and let the jacket fall completely open.

  “Yvette, I have people here,” I said under my breath, reaching out and pulling the jacket closed. Her body looked so good that I was sorry my brothers and father were waiting in the living room. She deserved an all-night marathon and that’s exactly what she would get when they left—if she wasn’t too angry with me.

  “People? What are you talking about?” The lust on her face was immediately replaced with a look of horror and embarrassment as she looked over my shoulder and saw my brothers smiling at her from the sofa. Even my father was trying to conceal his amusement. “Oh, my God, is that your father?”

  “It’s okay, baby, I don’t think they saw anything,” I whispered, making sure that her belt was tied tightly around her waist.

  “This is like some kind of nightmare,” Yvette said, holding her head in her hands. “If you think I’m going in there now, you’re crazy.”

  “You can change. You left some clothes over here last night. Why don’t you just put those on?”

  “Because I’ll still have this supreme embarrassment hanging over my head,” Yvette said, bowing her head in shame. “Your father saw me in my underwear; I do not want to sit and eat chicken with him now.”

  “Come on, babe, do this for me. Please.” I pulled Yvette by her trench coat and kissed her lips softly.

  She rolled her
eyes and sighed loudly. “Okay, Ajani, but I’m not happy, and we will be discussing this later.”

  Then she gracefully walked past me and into the living room. The embarrassment she claimed was not evident on her face. Yvette held her head high and smiled politely at Dakari, Jabari and my father. “I’ll just be a couple of seconds,” she said, quickly walking past them and into my bedroom.

  “She’s going to change,” I explained, sitting in the leather chair next to the sofa.

  “She doesn’t have to go and put on anything for us,” Jabari said, leaning across my father and giving his twin a pound.

  “I didn’t know women that age had bodies like that!” Dakari said. “No wonder you’re so gone over her.”

  “Don’t be disrespectful,” my father said, glaring at my brother. “Show some class.”

  “She’s embarrassed enough without the two of you acting like twelve-year-olds and going on and on about her impromptu striptease. Let’s all pretend that didn’t happen, okay?”

  “It’s certainly a surprise meeting all of you this evening,” Yvette said, reentering the living room dressed in a mint-green wraparound sweater and boot-legged jeans. “I apologize for what happened a moment ago,” she said, using her assistant principal tone. “I’m sure our introduction would have been less embarrassing had I been told that you were visiting.” Yvette shot a look at me so fierce that I knew for sure I wasn’t going to get the chance to make anything up to her tonight.

  “No problem, no problem,” my father said, before standing up and shaking Yvette’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Yvette. My sons and I have heard so much about you.”

  “I’ve heard a lot about you, too, Mr. Riley.”

  “Mr. Riley is a bit formal, Yvette. I mean, there isn’t that much age difference between us; why don’t you just call me Anthony?”

  His sly dig regarding Yvette’s age wasn’t lost on me. “She’s thirty-four, not forty-four. That’s a big difference,” I said, coming up behind her and putting my hand on her waist.