Hours later, I still couldn’t go to sleep because my neighbor’s car alarm kept going off. Now I was getting angry at Kyle. Damn. If nothing else, I thought we were friends.
Three days later, he was still not answering my telephone calls. I realized he had stayed with me for weeks and hadn’t brought anything but his dick into my apartment. I got used. However, I still needed answers—clarity, closure, comfort. It couldn’t be over just like that, no rhyme or reason. I was missing him so much, I didn’t know what to think.
I was really trying not to go up to the gym. If I did, I couldn’t guarantee that I wouldn’t act like a fool. I didn’t know what was going on with me or him. I think I got caught up in his pillow talk. It was real deep. I was still waiting for my phone to chirp, letting me know I had a text message from him. I knew he wouldn’t be ducking me over four hundred dollars. I sat there and analyzed our entire relationship from beginning to end a few times and then decided to leave him one last message. I started to get scared, like I really might not ever talk to him again. I needed to get my mind right. I was crazy, I know. I ran water. I poured a few bubbles in it. I placed my foot in the hot water. I wanted to put my head under for being so dumb, but I sat back and relaxed.
Then I heard my phone chirp. I jumped out of the bath without a towel, almost slipping. I prayed as I looked at my message. It was him. Thank you. And then I read the message:
I JUST CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE. WE ARE MOVING TOO FAST.
I wanted to throw my phone. I reread it to make sure I had seen it right. He couldn’t do what anymore? Come over to my house and eat my food, drive my car, borrow money from me? Yeah, that is a real chore to do. I was angry. He broke up with me by text message. That was so damn funny. Here it was, I couldn’t think and had been going crazy the last couple of days, worried about him. He ended our love affair by a goddamn text message.
I called him back and he didn’t answer. So I texted him back:
DON’T TEXT ME, TALK TO ME.
He didn’t respond and that was it. Kyle and I were over, and I needed to find a new gym.
Chapter 6
Dionne
My bar review class was intense. They were going over everything I had learned over the last three years. The test was at the end of July, and it was two days of testing: one day for an essay and the other for multiple-choice questions. The scary part was that I wouldn’t get my results back until October after I started work. If I failed now, I couldn’t take it again until February.
My sister said she wanted me to come to meet her for lunch. Lunch with Camille meant that she wanted to talk about her love life. I couldn’t envision why it was so hard for her to find a man. I mean, I was juggling two! Everyone I went to school with was either engaged or married. She must have been doing something wrong, because there were men out there. She went to the gym three times a week and was beautiful. She was tall and lean with cute brown eyes. She had a great job as an event organizer for the art museum and a few degrees. She was the artsy type. I think her problem was just she was too picky. A man is not that hard to find.
I let the hostesses seat me at the table. While waiting for Camille, I ordered a Cobb salad with vinaigrette dressing.
Camille finally arrived. She wore her hair pulled back so that I could get a view of her large diamond studs her last good boyfriend gave her three years ago.
“Hey.”
She looked like she was sick. “Camille, what’s wrong?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing. I just got stood up again last night. I guess I’ll just cuddle my accomplishments,” she said sadly.
“It is not that hard. Just stop being so judgmental and lower your standards a bit, and you will find a good man.”
“My standards are not too high. You would say that. Let’s see, you have a consultant as a boyfriend and a pro ballplayer on the side. And you want me to date anybody? I don’t think so.”
“I’m not saying date anybody. I’m just saying be open. What happened to the guy that Mommy wanted you to meet?”
“He installs cable all day. He can’t pay for anything. I don’t want to talk about it. I’m just not going on any more pity dates.”
“Pity dates,” I said as I laughed.
“Don’t laugh. You don’t know what it is like to be out here on this terrible dating scene. I have three degrees, Dionne. Why can’t these men get one? Huh? I’m not required to talk to subpar men. If a man is broke, he can’t afford to be in love. I can’t take any more men who haven’t been anywhere. The last guy I went out with didn’t know the difference between a Chardonnay and a Cabernet Sauvignon. I can’t teach a man how to have class. So from now on, I’m not dealing with them.”
I almost spit out my salad. “You are insane. You should have your own reality show.”
“I’m not insane. I’m just not talking to a man who is less successful and has the same amount as I do.”
“You could miss out on a great guy.”
“If the great guy does not make six figures, he can keep going. I have my own money. I’m done ranting. Fuck men! I don’t know why you got me started.”
“I got you started?”
“Yes, anyway, I just wanted to know if you were participating in Mommy and Daddy’s thirtieth wedding anniversary.”
“I’m going to be a part of it, but I don’t have the time to help.”
“And what does that mean?”
“It means that I’ll contribute. Just don’t expect me to run around. I’m showing up, and that’s it. Because I have to study and pass the bar.”
My parents’ anniversary party was held in a big hall. I was sitting at the table with Camille and Terrance. I smiled as I looked over at the poster-size picture of my parents’ wedding photo. My mom had a bunch of blue eye shadow on and a fluffy big Afro, and my father had long, thick sideburns and all of his hair. They looked the same now, just an older version of that young couple. Everyone ate, drank, and reminisced with them. A lot of people came up to them to take pictures and ask for advice. They danced to their wedding song by the Stylistics, “You Are Everything.”
When dessert was being brought out, Terrance tapped me and said that he would be right back. I was ready to go home. I was done with this whole party, and my feet were killing me. My father stood up in his navy suit. He asked everyone to be quiet.
Camille looked over at me, and asked, “What is Daddy about to say?”
“I guess it is over and he wants to thank everyone for coming out.”
My dad tapped the microphone to get everyone’s attention and said, “Everything tonight is about me and my wife and the blessing that God bestowed upon us thirty years ago. But tonight is also about new love as well as the old. Come up here, Dionne.”
I stood up real quick and sat back down. I didn’t know what my dad was up to. I hoped he wasn’t about to announce that I had graduated from law school. But he kept going on and on about love and told me to come up to the front of the ballroom with him. I walked to the stage with my dad, bewildered. I looked over at the door as the lights dimmed and Terrance came from the back with a spotlight and band following him. He reached me and dropped to one knee.
“Will you be my wife?” I looked at a teary-eyed Terrance as he waited for my response. I was surprised and shocked. I knew we were going to get married someday, but not now. The whole room was quiet. People were taking pictures and awaiting my response. I leaned into Terrance and hugged him and said yes. He held me as everyone began clapping. My dad was the loudest.
The rest of the evening well-wishers passed the table, congratulating us. It turned from my parents’ anniversary party into my engagement party. My wrist was hurting from holding my hand down, showing off my oval-shaped diamond ring. My ring was beautiful.
Camille came over and took a picture of us. She whispered in my ear, “How you getting married before me? I’m the big sister. I’m happy for you, but I get to pick out the bridesmaid dresses.”
Terrance and I
danced. I asked him when he had decided to do all this.
“I planned to ask you the day of your graduation, but it just didn’t seem right. I saw how your dad reacted when you told him you were moving in.”
“So, you sure you want to spend the rest of your life with me?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, and we kissed.
Chapter 7
Adrienne
I was short with all my patients all day. Weeks later, I was still upset about the breakup with Kyle. No, he wasn’t the best thing. I knew I could do better. And no, he wasn’t my forever, but I wanted him to be my right now. He could have been my stand-in until my real man came. I said fuck him, my four hundred dollars, and my diet. I ate whatever I wanted to.
At lunch, I walked across the street to the lunch trucks. I was about to order everything on the menu when I saw this guy from billing wave at me.
“Hey, Jeremy.”
“What you been up to?” he asked.
“Nothing, really,” I said as I stared at the menu, deciding what I wanted. The cheesesteak or the cheese-burger? I just wanted something with lots of grease and fat.
“What are you doing later on?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Probably just going in the house. Why?”
“Going in the house on a Friday night? You need to go with me and have some drinks,” he said, rubbing his chin.
“No, that’s okay.”
“Won’t you give me your number? Maybe some other time we can go out. I can call you.”
I looked at him. He was short and not that attractive, but he was very confident and well dressed. I was a nurse, and I wasn’t about to talk to or date somebody in billing. Stacey and I made jokes about women in the hospital dating men in environmental services, deliverymen, or cafeteria workers. He wasn’t exactly a janitor, but he still wasn’t on my level. After Kyle I was so not going to date anyone who made less than I did. I ordered my lunch and gave him my number. Hopefully, he wouldn’t use it.
My shift was almost over and thank God. The balls of my feet were hurting from standing up all day. I looked down at my watch. I had only a half hour more of this shit, I thought as I heard the nurse call button ping. I didn’t even have to look to see who it was. It was room 807 again. It was the third time they had pulled that damn cord. The bad thing was, it wasn’t even my patient who was asking for stuff. It was his annoying friends. There were four people by his bed at all times. But what did I expect? It never failed; people always wanted to bother me when I was trying to leave. The only reason I didn’t cuss 807 out was that the patient was an eighteen-year-old kid. He was accidentally shot in his knee. So I felt so sorry for him.
“Yes, how can I help you?” I asked as I entered the room.
“Can my man get some medicine?” the patient’s friend asked.
He had braids going to his back and was wearing a black T-shirt and very long, loose-fitting shorts. He had his made-in-China silver chain hanging over his chest. I read his chart and went to go get him his medicine. When I returned, the same boy was still trying to flirt with me. I pulled the separator so the sixty-something man next to him could get some privacy.
The young man slid the separator back, and I tried not to laugh in his face when he said, “I like you. You pretty.”
I said thanks and ignored him.
Then, before I got all the way out of the room, he said, “I wanted to ask you if I can take you out.”
“No, thank you.”
“I’m not eighteen like him; I’m twenty one.”
“Thanks, but no, thanks.”
“What, you like doctors? I got just as much as money as any of them do,” he said as he reached in his pocket and pulled out a stack of twenties.
His friend yelled out, “Man, she don’t want you.”
And he was right. I was not that desperate yet.
After work, I couldn’t wait to get home. On the way there, my mother asked me if I could watch my grandfather for her. I didn’t have anything to do. I was off for the next few days. She could leave him home by himself, but he might not be there when she returned. Last summer, he went missing for eight hours. My mom sat him out on the porch to get air, and he took a two-hour walk downtown. They finally found him on a park bench, and he couldn’t remember his name or where he lived.
“What’s up, Pops?” I asked as I entered the house.
He gave me his usual unchanged glance and turned his attention back to the television. All he ever did was watch television. Every now and then, he would ask me a question like, “What year is it, Adrienne?”
I’d answer him. And then he’d wait ten minutes and ask me the same question. Then other nights he’d talk about when he met my grandmother or when he was a boy.
My mother whizzed past me, trying to put her shoes on while walking out the door. She said she would be back soon and left for her date. I poured myself iced tea and asked, “Pops, you want anything?”
He shook his head no.
I then kicked my shoes off and stretched out. I sat in the lounge chair on the opposite end of the room from him and closed my eyes. I wished for a better life and placed my jacket over me and got comfortable. I was home on Friday night with my pops. This was not how I envisioned spending my twenties.
My phone rang. I didn’t feel like reaching for it. No one important had my number. I looked down at it, and it was Jeremy calling.
“You really home? Where your boyfriend at?” he asked.
“I don’t have one of them.”
“You lying, a beautiful woman like you. Keep it real, somebody tries to talk to you at least three time a day.”
“No, not at all. I just kind of broke up with someone.”
“You broke up with him or he broke up with you?”
I didn’t respond quickly enough, so he assumed correctly that I was broken up with. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. You are beautiful and successful. A lot of men are either afraid of successful women or they want a woman to take care of them. And you have to commend yourself for not bending on what you want.”
“You right.”
“So don’t beat yourself up,” he said.
“It’s hard,” I said as I felt myself getting emotional. We talked a little more; then I told him I’d talk to him later. I closed the phone, turned my ringer off, and shut my eyes.
After talking to Jeremy, I felt a little better. He was right. I couldn’t be mad at myself.
Jeremy caught me coming out of a patient’s room.
“Hey, beautiful.” He smiled.
“Hi,” I said, as I kept walking toward the nurse’s station.
He looked good—white shirt, gray oxford sweater, and black slacks, and his shoes were brown and polished.
“I just came up to tell you I’m taking you out tonight.”
“Oh, really?” I laughed.
“Yeah, I want you to see that not all men are bad.”
“Thanks, but I don’t date people I work with.”
“You don’t work with me. I work downstairs, and you are all the way up here. I need your address so I can come pick you up.”
Jeremy took me to this Brazilian restaurant. I had wanted to try the place for a while. I was impressed that he knew how to pronounce the food on the menu and made suggestions for me to order. He was only in medical billing, but he was charismatic and worldly. If I didn’t know better, I would think he was gay. He kept fixing the collar of his shirt and trying to get me to notice his True Religion jeans. Then he began telling me what might look good on me and told me to stop hiding my shape.
After our date was over, I wanted to continue talking to him. It was still early, only ten. I called his cell just to hear his voice once more.
“I just wanted to say thank you, Jeremy.”
“You’re welcome. I don’t have a problem treating a woman like a woman.”
“What are you doing now?” I asked.
“About to go in the house. Why, what’s up?”
>
“Nothing. I wanted to see if you wanted to get a cocktail.”
I pulled out my martini glasses and made two apple martinis. I turned the radio on and patted my hair into place. I heard a car pull up. It was him; he was already here. His car was an Acura and it was nice, put me in mind of a BMW. He came up and sipped the martini with me.
We were having a good time in the middle of my living room, blasting the radio and laughing with each other, dancing like we were in a club. We sat down and talked some more until four in the morning. I fell onto his lap, and he just began stroking my hair. I felt like a baby. I really needed someone to take care of me. I need to be a baby, I thought when he cupped my neck. Each one of his fingers delicately kneaded my spine to the back of my skull. His hands went from my hairline to the middle of my vertebrae.
He sat me up and said, “You are so beautiful and smart. He is a damn fool to hurt you.”
I knew he was right, and hearing someone else say it validated me. Jeremy pulled me into his arms and just held me. He made me feel so secure, so wanted. I turned to him, looked him in his eyes, and began kissing him on his mouth. I let my kisses trail from his neck to his ears. He told me to stop. His hesitancy made me want him even more. I knew I was fresh out of heartbreak, but it was okay. This was what I wanted. I wanted him because he was making me feel better about me right now.
He finally began to give in to my kisses and partaking in my seduction. I kissed his back. It was perfect, no bumps or marks. His stomach wasn’t cut up like Kyle’s, but it was flat enough. Moments later, Jeremy had my head hanging off the sofa. I started it, but I wasn’t ready for the way his massive stroke was finishing it. His dick was delightfully good. I screamed as my head almost hit the floor, and he slid me back up the sofa. He complimented me the entire ride, telling me how beautiful and special I was. He literally wore my body out. My insides hadn’t felt like that since I was like eighteen.
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