“Yes, I took the bus,” she said, pointing over her shoulder. She watched him do that thing with his expression, like her taking the bus was in line with his expectations of her.
“You have time for lunch? Wanted to talk you. I noticed your new bruises,” he said, reaching for her arm, holding her wrapped wrist in his hand. Touching her gently, he then looked at the mark on her left cheek. She was pretty, he thought again. The small diamond stud was a light blue today, sparkling against her skin, sort of matching her blue hair.
“You okay?” he asked. She could tell he was genuinely concerned, and she should be pleased that he was a good guy, concerned for his patients. But for some reason she was irritated, in spite of it all. She had wanted him to want her, however irrational that desire had been.
“Yes, I’m okay. Sorry, I don’t have time for lunch, though,” she said.
“Boo?” he asked, touching her wrist. There was doubt again in his question. “Here,” he said, before she could answer, turning her wrist over, palm facing up while he reached into the back pocket of his scrubs. “I saw you were on the schedule today, and wanted to make sure I at least gave this to you,” he said, placing a card in her hand. “It’s for a lawyer friend of mine; went to undergraduate school with her. She could help you if you needed it, pro bono, and I wrote the name and the address of another shelter on the back. This one’s smaller. Maybe you’d feel more comfortable there. Tell me you’ll give it some thought,” he added, his face filled with concern.
She turned away from him, giving him her back. She let loose a low sorrow-filled moan, and put her hands over her eyes.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, reaching for her.
“No, it’s not,” she said as he placed his hand on her shoulder, trying to offer support. “I don’t know what to do anymore.” She let out another wail, followed by a moan. Then she made her shoulders shake, and went back to moaning again.
He looked around and caught the concerned gaze of a woman passing by. “Don’t cry,” he said, rubbing her shoulder now.
She turned around, and pushed herself into his arms, wrapped her arms around his waist, and put her face into his neck. He really did smell good.
“Oh, Dr. Barnett. You don’t know what I’ve been through,” she said, moving her shoulders again, hoping to give the appearance of crying. She moaned again. This was her longest one yet, and she pushed herself into him more. He felt nice, she thought. If only…
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said again, grabbing her shoulders in a light grip, trying to pull back from her enough to see her face. She held on tighter and moved her face to lay just under his chin, moving her lips closer to his ear so he could hear.
“No one will help me… my friends, my family. She made me choose—them or her,” she said, proud at how needy she sounded.
“Who is she?” he asked.
“My boo,” she said into his shoulder.
“Your boo? Your girlfriend?” he asked, continuing to try and back away, wanting to see her face, to look into her eyes.
“Yes,” she said, nodding.
“Why don’t you come back to the office with me? We could talk, call the center together. I bet they could help you,” he said, still trying to pull away.
“Yes… no… I can’t leave her. She’s been so good to me,” she said. Her shoulders had resumed their shaking. Her grip at his waist tightened.
“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry,” he said, giving up on trying to push her away. He just held her now, his arm around her shoulders, taking in her nice floral scent. “Let’s go in, sit down, and just talk if you want to. You can just talk to me or we can call someone who could help,” he said again, into her hair now, listening to the sound of her tears. Her body was shaking from crying, and he was feeling helpless in the face of this.
“No, she’ll just track me down, bring me back. She’s done it before,” she said, and started moaning again, pushing herself closer.
“Really, Mariah, there are places that can help,” he said, stroking her back, hoping to soothe her.
That feels nice, Mariah thought. He felt nice up close, just as she’d thought he’d feel, all strong and male. She moved her free hand down from his waist to his ass, cupping it softly, then squeezing. Nice and firm. It was just as she thought it would be, too. She felt him jump at the contact and had to stifle her urge to giggle.
She let loose another mournful wail, causing him to jerk a little at the volume, which prompted her to finally give into her laughter. She camouflaged it, hoping it would sound like crying.
“No…I can’t leave… let me think about it. I know it’s time. I know that she isn’t good for me. I almost left after that one time I dislocated my elbow. I know, I know, I should have left her then, but she is really fun. She makes me feel whole when she’s not hurting me,” she said, rubbing small circles on his ass now with her hand.
He tried to push away from her hand but ended up pushing his pelvis into hers, pulling back just as quick, cause that wasn’t a good idea, either.
“She’s broken your arm? Mariah, that’s serious. It can only get worse,” he said, choosing to ignore her hand for the time being and concentrate on her words. He was sincere as all get-out.
“It wasn’t intentional. She didn’t mean it. We’ve been together forever. I’ve always loved her,” she added, her shoulders no longer shaking. She let herself hiccup, a sign that her tears were winding down.
He finally managed to remove her hand from his ass and the other from his neck, and stepped back. She had her hands covering her face now and had turned her back facing away from him. He watched her take a deep breath, gathering her composure, he imagined.
“Promise me you’ll think about it? That you’ll hold onto the card?” he said to her back.
“I will,” she said, turning toward the sound of a bus. “I’d better go,” she said, hurrying away.
“See you,” he said, watching her hurry to meet the bus that was making its way to the stop. He watched her get on board before turning and leaving. It was more serious than he originally thought. He’d discuss her with his pops again, and see if there was anything else they could do for her. The way she held on to him and ran her hands over his body made him feel a little weird. He wasn’t sure what that had been about.
* * *
“So how did it go with Mariah?” his pops asked him at they sat at the table with his mother, eating dinner.
“It’s worse than I thought. She told me her boo had broken her arm before, and that she’s afraid to leave.”
“Her boo?” his dad asked. The elder Barnett turned away from Adam and looked at his wife. Oddly, she smiled in response to his dad’s expression.
“Boo is an endearment. It means her loved one. That’s new-school talk, Pops,” Adam said.
“Huh. So what are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know. What can you do when someone needs help, but doesn’t want to accept any?”
“I’ll call her, talk to her. Let’s see if that helps,” he said.
“Thanks Pops,” he said, sitting back in is chair. “I don’t understand women like that. You’ve seen her. She’s pretty underneath all of her colored hair and tattoos. Why do women tolerate that type of treatment?”
“Don’t know, son,” Adam Sr. said.
“It’s good of you to try and talk to her,” his mother said, reaching and placing her hand on his.
“Changing the subject for a moment, I need a favor from you,” Adam Sr. said, waiting for Adam’s attention. “There is this event I usually attend once a month, the last Saturday of the month. But your mother wants me to go to some dinner party this Saturday night instead. Fund raising for what, dear?”
“Homeless shelter,” she said.
“I would like for you to go in my place. Would you mind?” he asked, looking at Adam Jr. “Me and a few of my retiree friends usually go. I purchase four tickets every season.”
“Sure. Go where?” he asked.
“The roller derby. We are one of the many sponsors for a team,” he said.
“The roller derby? Didn’t know that was still around. Wasn’t that on TV ages ago? A fake sport where men and women push and shove and fight, right?” Adam asked.
“Yes, but it’s a different sport now. It’s all female. I like to go and show my support. It started up again in Austin in 2000, locally grown, and I try to support the locals. The passes are in my desk. There’s four of them. I haven’t been able to talk your mother into going yet. Take your buddy Michael with you. There is a bout scheduled on the last Saturday of each month. I missed the exhibition in January, but would really appreciate it if you make this one for me. You should try and enjoy yourself. Have you been out since you’ve been home?”
“I’ve been giving it more and more thought lately,” he said.
“Perfect timing, then,” he said, giving a smile to his wife. “Don’t forget, it’s important,” his pops said, seriously looking at him.
“Sure,” Adam said.
“I’d like for someone from our place to represent us. If you don’t go, let me know. I’ll get your sister to attend. She and her friends like going. She told me there is man potential everywhere.”
“No, I’m good. I’ve got this. Didn’t know the roller derby had become such a big deal,” he said, smiling at his dad. He sat back and listened as his dad started in on something political with his mom. He let his mind drift to what, if anything more, he could do for Mariah. He felt bad for her and women like her. If her clothes were any indication, she probably ran low on funds, probably hadn’t finished college, had no serious means of support, and probably felt trapped, surviving the best she could. He knew domestic violence wasn’t just limited to those without resources, and that it cut across all economic strata.
He felt for her, though. She had been on his mind after she’d left. The emotion he felt coiled in her body as she clung to him crying. Hers had not been typical girl tears. His ex’s image came to mind. No, this had been crying caused by deep hurt.
He wasn’t interested in her, yet her body softly pressed into his, her scent, and—of course—her hand cupping, then gently rubbing him, had gotten his attention.
He cleared his throat, causing his parents to glance over at him with strange looks on their faces. He smiled and they turned away, resuming their discussion while he returned to his thoughts. Maybe going to the derby was a good opportunity for him to find female companionship, because he’d unwittingly become aware of Mariah in a your-body-would-feel-nice-splayed-underneath-mine way. No way was that a safe direction to take with her. So that meant that he would start his search for a warm and willing woman sooner rather than later.
“Hey, I’m heading home,” Adam said, getting up from the table. “Thanks, Mom. Dinner was great.” He bent over to kiss her goodbye.
“You’re welcome,” she said.
* * *
Adam Sr. waited until he heard the front door close. Then he and Gloria gave in to their laughter. He was going to call Mariah on Monday and tell her that Adam would be attending the derby, and to go easy on him. He chuckled at the reason she’d given his son for her bruises, playing along with him and his assumptions.
He laughed harder, wishing he could see his son’s face when he got a hold of Mariah. And if she was wearing her typical derby uniform, his son didn’t stand a chance.
He laughed again, glad for his son. Maybe this would help make him forget that bad penny Jamie. He didn’t know if Adam knew it or not, but he was glad their engagement had been called off. He’d always thought Adam needed someone different from the seemingly strait-laced, serious women that he’d started dating in his quest to find the perfect wife—as if such a thing existed. He hadn’t cared for Jamie, but he hadn’t been able to put his finger on the why. His son could use someone who would challenge him. Adam Jr. needed someone who would give him hell, a run for his money. Someone like Mariah.
He chuckled. “Wish I could go and watch,” he said to Gloria, and they laughed again.
* * *
Adam sat on the couch in his apartment. It was Friday night, and he was alone again. This was his new life. Michael, his buddy from high school and college, had called earlier, but he opted to stay in tonight. That was his preference since he’d returned, but that was changing.
His apartment had come courtesy of his father’s property-owning dentist buddy, the one concession to helping his dad that had not been negotiable. He would have his own space. No way was he moving home with his parents. He was too used to being his own man to start living back with his parents; plus, if the right opportunity presented itself, he wanted a place to bring someone home. He was way past the age of sneaking women into his room.
He owned a home in Houston, picked out by his ex. A starter home, she’d said; after the first one or two children were born, they would move on. Maybe he would hold on to it, but he wasn’t sure. He was nowhere near decided on his future course of action. He’d registered his home with a property manager in Houston, who would check on it from time to time before he moved back to Austin.
No more ex. It was four months now, and it was getting easier. Getting over her was easier than it should have been, he thought. He remembered the last time he talked to Jamie, when he’d called off the wedding.
His dad’s call all those months ago had come at the most opportune time, the day after the break-up. He’d wanted to get out of Houston—of course he would help his pops. He’d given his notice at the fancy dental chain where he’d been working, courtesy of the ex’s dad. Her old man had connections, and wanted to make sure his daughter lived in a style befitting her station in life.
He’d left Houston as soon as his two weeks was up. He’d come home to Austin to regroup and lick his wounds, but mainly to figure out what to do next.
So far he was still clueless. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to head back, find another dentist to partner with in Houston, or start his own practice, like his pops. Maybe he would join his dad or just serve as one of those travelling dentists, moving around the country from clinic to clinic. There was always a need for free dental care. He could just volunteer his time, and skip the part about getting married and settling down altogether. Yes, his parents had been married for forever and he’d thought he would, too, but it wasn’t for everyone and after Jamie, he was less sure of his ability to spot a woman worthy of marriage.
Mariah, of the nice curves and enticing body, popped into his head. He really had it bad. Nothing about her seemed easy, but she reminded him that he was missing something—that mindless sex thing, with many or with one.
Someone was banging on his door. He walked over to open it and in walked his sister, Yvette.
“Men!” she said, walking in like she lived there..
He was silent. Yvette’s love life was an ongoing soap opera. There she stood, all 5 feet, two inches of her, hands on generous hips barely contained by skinny jeans, standing on what looked like four-inch heels.
“Aren’t you going to say something on your gender’s behalf?” she said, kicking off her shoes.
He remained silent, cautiously closing the door. He knew better than to venture anywhere near his sister when she was on a tear.
“Men!” She was standing in front of him now, a look of irritation on her face.
“What?” he said, glancing at her quickly, before resuming his seat on the couch. Yvette had challenged him constantly growing up, in your face to the max—she was spit from their mother’s womb with a fist raised in the air.
“I had a date, that’s what.”
He was silent. He put his feet up on the coffee table in front of the couch and lowered the TV volume, preparing to listen to her usual rant.
“Men,” she said again, flopping down on the couch next to him.
“Are you going to tell me about it, or just keep repeating the word ‘men’ all night?”
“I met this guy the other day after work.”
“Okay,” he said.
“We met for coffee tonight,” she said.
“Okay.”
“I could tell right from the start I was too much for him. You know how you all are with a woman who knows her mind. That look that tells me you just can’t wait to leave,” she said.
Silence.
“What’s up with men these days? What am I to do? Downplay who I am so that he’s comfortable? Hang on his every word, act like I’m honored that he is listening to little old me?”
“Not you,” Adam said.
“No, not me.”
“Why would you want a mouse of a woman?” she asked.
“Why are you asking me that? How would I know?”
“You like demure, quiet women. Except this last time. She was demure on top and crazy underneath,” she said.
“So thoughtful of you to point that out,” he said, flipping the channel. “And I don’t want a mouse of a woman. But I also don’t want one who challenges me on everything, where everything becomes a cause, a battle, a struggle to be overcome, a fight to the finish.”
She stood up and walked into the kitchen. He heard the refrigerator door open and then close. Yvette walked back out, running her hand through her long, curly hair.
“I could hook you up with some of my friends,” she said.
“No thanks.”
“Hey, they beat the girls you bring home. How many times have I told you that your choice in women sucks? You always went after the most stuck-up girl you could find,” she said, arms sweeping the room like all of his old dates were present.
He raised his eyebrows in response. He had nothing to add that would be helpful.
“So how’s it going?” she asked.
“How’s what going?”
“Dad’s office?”
“Fine.”
“Aren’t you going to start dating again, get out of this apartment, go back to your old ways?”
He shrugged.
“You have to get back in the game at some point,” she said.
“I will. When I’m ready,” he said.
“Don’t wait too long. All the good ones will be gone,” she said.
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