Hitts & Mrs.

by Lori Bryant-Woolridge

  “It’s vintage. I picked it out myself,” he told her.

  “Thank you, honey. It’s beautiful.” When did John start shopping at thrift shops? The notion crossed Sharon’s mind but she promptly dismissed it, caring only that he’d taken the time to choose this gift himself instead of relying on his secretary or jeweler as he usually did. She was truly touched and she couldn’t help wondering what had gotten into her husband.

  Chapter 16

  “Hi,” Melanie mouthed as she motioned John to come in. She held the phone between her ear and shoulder as she took his coat and gestured for him to take a seat.

  John sat down and glanced around the apartment, admiring the way the soft feminine colors of sage and peach pleasantly combined with the heavy wooden African art. He was happy that Melanie called to say she was expecting some important phone calls and asked to change their meeting from the company apartment to her place. It gave him the opportunity to see her domestic side.

  He made himself comfortable on the sofa and while he waited for Melanie to conclude her phone call, he picked up Soul, a tome of photos by French fashion photographer Thierry Le Gouès, from the coffee table. John flipped through the pages and became engrossed in the sensual and evocative collection of nudes and portraits of some of the world’s top models of African descent. Though the entire body of each woman was coated from forehead to foot with gleaming black paint, he recognized supermodels Naomi Campbell, Iman, and Alek, each in stunning, sexy, and highly erotic poses. Every page depicted the statuesque mystery, seductive elegance, and allure of black women from around the globe.

  “But we’re talking about eight people. Surely you can free up two rooms,” he heard Melanie implore. Her voice stole his attention away from the artistic fantasy in his hands to the beauty standing across the room. He’d honestly never really appreciated the fetching nature of black women before becoming involved with Melanie. But the realization struck him that the standard features of women of color—from their full, luscious lips and round bottoms to their hairstyles and fashion statements—had steadily infiltrated the mainstream view of traditional European beauty.

  “Sorry about that,” Melanie said, concern and frustration coloring her apology.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Not really.” Things had taken a downward slide following her Yuletide détente with Will. Besides lightly spraining her ankle while trying out her Kristi Yamaguchi moves with her sister and niece, she’d just received the bad news that the Hawkins family had lost their home in a Christmas Eve fire. Mel took a moment to explain how nearly everything was destroyed due to the smoke and water damage, but luckily the entire family, while homeless, was safe.

  The news hit Melanie hard. Mamie Hawkins and her kids were like her extended family after all these years. In the past, Mel had sent them whatever she could—from essentials to extravagances—and last year Candace and some of her other friends had chipped in to buy them a washing machine. But this went way beyond their reach. How could she possibly help them put a roof back over their heads?

  “I’m trying to make a deal with the motel manager in Greenville, Mississippi, to house them for at least a week until we can figure out something more permanent,” she explained.

  “You do all this for them and you’re not even related?” John asked.

  “If I don’t, who will? I mean, it’s not like it takes a lot of time or effort on my part to help just one family. And it honestly feels good on both sides of the giving.”

  John looked at her with new esteem for her generosity of spirit toward people she’d never met and seemed to have nothing in common with. Her statement made him rethink his recent conversation with Sharon about Amanda Weiss.

  “My wife was saying the same thing about saving one person. She’s taken this teenager whose life seems full of issues under her wing. The girl is a handful and I’m still not sure why Sharon wants to be bothered.”

  “When someone touches your heart like that, it ceases to become something you want to do. It becomes something you need to do because you realize what’s really important in this world.”

  “And that is?” John asked.

  “Love.” Melanie spoke the word with quiet reverence. They sat in silence for a moment, both digesting the enormity of her statement.

  “Love is such a tricky thing, isn’t it? It’s the one thing that we all want to find but are too afraid to accept when it appears.”

  Instinctively Mel knew that John was not referring to the universal love between all human beings but the very personal kind between a man and a woman. “You’re right. Love presents itself to us in all kinds of ways but too many times we turn it away because it doesn’t come in the right package—sex, color, tax bracket.”

  “Or marital status?” John blurted out.

  “Yes.”

  “What was wrong with Will’s package?” John asked, curious about the unsatisfactory traits of the man who was unable to capture the heart of this dazzling woman.

  Melanie’s first reaction was to avoid the subject as she’d successfully done for months, but just having spent the holiday with Will, it was a topic she needed to explore further if she was to sort out all these questions in her mind. Once she began her story, she found herself speaking candidly about the situation, grateful for John’s nonjudgmental ears. It felt good to be able to release all the stored-up emotion and guilt without condemnation.

  “To be honest,” she concluded, “I’m not sure I ever want to get married. I’m not willing to sacrifice the things I want in life. Pretty selfish, huh?” she said, admitting to John what she hadn’t dared to reveal to anyone else.

  “There is a huge difference between selfish and selfness, Melanie.”

  “But isn’t a successful marriage one where you put the needs of your spouse above your own? At least that’s what my mother always told me, and she and my father have been married for forty-two years.”

  “Of course some self-sacrifice is essential, but if you don’t value your own needs, how can you value your partner’s? In almost twenty-four years, I’ve learned that marriage is an unrelenting tug-of-war. How can it not be when the people involved are constantly changing?”

  “So if you’re both constantly changing, how do you know that who you marry today is the right partner for the person you will become tomorrow?” Mel asked with a confused sigh.

  “You don’t. That’s why you just have to keep making it up as you go along. There’s no one right way to be married, Melanie. What matters most is that the couple fit comfortably into a marriage of their own making—whatever form it takes and regardless of who does or doesn’t approve.”

  Melanie got up and went to the kitchen, using the pause in the conversation to digest John’s ideas. His explanations made great sense to her as she weighed them against the more conventional life lessons she’d been taught.

  “May I ask you something personal?” Melanie inquired, returning with a tray of coffee and two slices of her mother’s sweet potato pie.

  “Sure.”

  “Why don’t you and Sharon have any children?”

  Melanie’s query caught John off guard. It had been years since anyone had asked that question, and he had to take a moment to think before answering. John quickly sorted through the usual excuses why he and Sharon were childless, but as with most of his deep and most personal emotions, he found himself telling Melanie the truth.

  “We did try to get pregnant for several years. Eventually we found out that I was sterile and I took it as a sign that I was not meant to be a parent.”

  “Why would you think that?” she asked as she poured the coffee.

  “Because I don’t know how to love like that. You have to know a father’s love in order to be able to give it,” John said. The bitter sadness that accompanied his statement caused Melanie to close the gap between them and take his hands in hers.

  “I’ve never wanted to make a child feel as worthless as my father made me feel,
so I decided that I’d never take the chance,” he told her. He clung to Melanie’s hand, finding strength and solace in her touch.

  “But don’t you want to leave more to this world than a legacy of concrete and steel?”

  “I never really thought about it like that, though I suppose Sharon must have. She’s wanted to adopt for years. In fact, we had a baby all lined up but at the last minute I said no, insisting that she and I were family enough. I thought it was better to hurt her and love her through the pain than raise a child who didn’t understand why his father couldn’t love him. To this day Sharon thinks that I simply don’t like children.”

  “Why don’t you just tell her how you really feel?”

  “As much as I know she loves me, there’s a lot about me she just doesn’t understand,” John told her.

  “You can’t expect her to understand you if you don’t share yourself,” Melanie said gently. She hoped John could not see the duplicity she felt as she spoke. She was sitting here telling him not to do the very same thing she had done to Will—lock him out of her heart without sharing the real reasons why.

  “Maybe. But she’s not like you,” John admitted before raising her hands to his lips. “I feel safe with you. You don’t expect me to be anyone other than who I am.”

  It was true. Melanie was the first woman he’d ever met with whom he wanted to be totally naked, without removing one stitch of clothing. There was an emotional closeness between them that ran deeper than any relationship he’d shared with anyone, from birth to this precious moment in time. Sitting together with their bodies close and hearts open, John was fully conscious of how much he wanted to make love to Melanie while at the same time increasingly aware of how unnecessary it was to cross that boundary. In fact, but for their stolen kiss on the SunFire, they had not again shared such an ardent kiss. And yet the passion between them was deeper than ever.

  Theirs was a loving connection that revolved around heart-to-heart talks—intimacy built through words, private revelations, and exposed frailties. This affectionate bond was a sensual treat, tightly packaged in a cellophane wrap of romantic sexual tension. Each knowing look, each gentle touch, was like a finger prick trying to penetrate the taut clingy barrier and get to the delicious creamy middle. There was something enormously stimulating about their sexless interludes, a high that stayed with John and kept him going when his love and lust got bogged down in the minutiae of marriage. And in the back of his mind, John was also aware that his sexual restraint was an attempt to stay separate and above his adulterous father’s destructive behavior.

  Melanie and John melted comfortably into their hug, not feeling the need to talk, only to be together. They both recognized the depth of their emotions, but were unwilling and unable to determine if they were appropriate, for to measure their relationship against what society said was wrong or right was to deny themselves the beauty of the truth. A lifetime seemed to pass between them before John spoke again.

  “I guess it’s time for me to go. I have to stop by the apartment and pick up my bags before I head out to the airport. I’m not sure how long I’ll be in Belize, but I’ll be in touch and you can reach me by e-mail as well.”

  Melanie retrieved and helped John on with his coat, taking the time to close each button. They hugged one last time before he opened the door.

  “This is for you. I suggest you read it and then toss it. Just to be on the safe side,” Melanie told him as she retrieved an envelope from the entry console. She gave him the letter and then lightly kissed his mouth.

  John took several steps down the hall before turning around. “I love you, Jax.”

  “I love you too.” Their eyes locked, acknowledging the pleasure and uncertainty that their mutual declaration brought.

  John sat in his first-class seat and pulled Melanie’s letter from his breast pocket. Happy to be alone in his row, he reclined his seat slightly, making himself comfortable as he prepared to devour Melanie’s words. He’d waited until now for this uninterrupted moment when he could savor her note. He held the envelope to his nose, inhaling the scent of her perfume before slowly unsealing the envelope and pulling out the celery-colored stationery. He took a moment to enjoy the artistry of her script, amused by the flowery flow of her handwriting. There was nothing about Jax that didn’t reek of womanliness.

  Dear John,

  It feels strange to begin a letter expressing my adoration with the phrase usually used to end a relationship; especially when I find myself constantly thanking God for bringing you into my life.

  I can’t tell you how many times I have relived our Miami trip together. From our angry words to our evening spent under the stars, every moment seemed part of a greater plan to bring us closer. You called our trip on the SunFire a cruise to nowhere. I think that’s such a misnomer. For me it was a trip to Shangri-la—a picnic for my soul packed with delicious memories that I’ll savor and cherish forever.

  Thank you so much for the beautiful purse. It was such a wonderful and thoughtful surprise. But it was nothing compared to the gift of your unwavering belief in me. You’ve given me a confidence that I’ve never known before. Since you’ve come into my life, I feel like I can do anything, be anyone. You make me feel talented, intelligent, and beautiful. With your guidance and support I am ready to take on this world.

  You, dear John, have become my mentor, my friend, my soulmate. Who knows what will become of us, but I believe these feelings will last throughout this lifetime and into the next. Thank you so very much.

  Love Always,

  Jax

  John reread the letter twice before placing it back into the envelope. How much he wanted to shout to the world that he loved and was loved in return by Melanie, but the circumstances surrounding their affection for each other left his options few. He once again lifted the note back to his nose and the sweet smell sparked his imagination. He reached for the in-flight phone to call his office and smiled as he swiped his credit card. He was determined to express to Melanie his joyful gratitude and two ideas came to mind. One he could take care of immediately, the other would take a little time, but both had the potential of adding much-sought-after satisfaction to his personal and professional life.

  Subj: Thank You

  From: VINTAGEJEWEL@AOL.COM

  To: JCARLSON@CARLSONTUCK.COM

  John, you sweet, sweet man. Thank you so much for your generosity towards Mamie Hawkins and her children. It was so unbelievably remarkable of you to go through the effort of finding the family, providing them temporary housing, and hiring a construction crew to repair their home. I do so love you for doing this. When she called to thank me, I was floored. It was as much a surprise to me as it was to her. She said her prayers had been answered and that I was her guardian angel. She’s so wrong. You are the angel and I feel so blessed.

  Love you,

  Jax

  Subj: Re: Thank You

  From: JCARLSON@CARLSONTUCK.COM

  To: VINTAGEJEWEL@AOL.COM

  Dear Jax,

  Thanks are not necessary. I did nothing but make a few phone calls. The repairs on the house should be complete in three to four weeks and I’ve arranged for it to be totally refurbished as well. Carlson and Tuck will pick up the motel tab and construction costs. It was my pleasure to help, mainly because I knew that helping Mrs. Hawkins would not only make you happy, but also allow you to rest easier. And the truth be told, the whole thing made me feel pretty damn good too.

  I’ve only been here in Belize for a couple of days, but things are not looking good. One of the drawbacks of working internationally is having to deal with local politics. I will get through this, but it would be much easier if you could be here with me. I need to hear your laugh. There is something about the sound of your laughter that warms my soul and makes me smile from the inside out. Be well, my sweet.

  Love,

  John

  Subj: Happy New Year

  From: VINTAGEJEWEL@AOL.COM

  To: JCA
RLSON@CARLSONTUCK.COM

  Hi. How are you? I’m sorry to hear that the situation in Belize is difficult. I’m sure with you now in the mix, things will get resolved quickly and fairly. Please take care of yourself.

  I’m sitting here making a list of my New Year’s resolutions. First on the list is to begin a gratitude journal, where I’m sure your name will pop up throughout! I’ve also decided to begin a yoga class and to cut back my dependence on caffeine and new shoes. The last will be the toughest!

  I hate the idea of you spending New Year’s alone in a strange country. I will be at home with several of my friends, but know that my thoughts are with you.

  Love you,

  J.

  Subj: Re: Happy New Year

  From: JCARLSON@CARLSONTUCK.COM

  To: VINTAGEJEWEL@AOL.COM

  Hello Lovely. Your resolutions sound honorable enough. Though if I can add my two cents, I’d say keep the shoe fetish. There’s something about those sexy little feet of yours adorned in high heels that makes my heart race!

  I’ve decided on a few resolutions of my own. Besides the usual diet and exercise promises, I’ve decided to start painting again. In fact, I’ve already bought a set of watercolors and have been spending my free time (what little I have) reproducing some of the incredible scenery around here. See what a positive influence you have on me! I haven’t felt this free in a very long time. When I return we’ll have to get together so you can critique my work.

  Don’t worry about me being alone for New Year’s Eve. Sharon flew down to join me. So you have fun with your pals and know that I am but a whisper away.

  Love Always,

  John

  Chapter 17

  “Melo, what are you doing in there? It’s after seven.”

  “I’ll be out in a sec, Candace.” Melanie quickly shut down her computer while John’s latest message still happily buzzed around her head. She was surprised by how much she looked forward to getting his daily e-mail.