She Who Shops

by Joanne Skerrett

  “You like Danilo Perez?” Weslee asked after William had popped the CD into his car stereo.

  “I’m going through a Latin, Afro–Cuban jazz period. Work with me, OK?” he joked.

  “No! No! I love Danilo Perez. I have everything he’s done.”

  He took his eyes off the road briefly to give her an amused stare. “How come you like jazz and not R&B and hip-hop?”

  “Ugh. I can’t stand the stuff out there today. I peaked right after Guy broke up.” Weslee shrugged. “The last R&B CD I bought was Jill Scott. I still listen to the older stuff, though.”

  William laughed. “Have I got something for you then,” he said and reached into a case of CDs.

  Seconds later, they burst out laughing as the sound of Guy’s “Piece of My Love” filled the Jeep. Weslee howled as William did his best Aaron Hall imitation, singing “Baby, you can’t have all of me, ’cause I’m not totally free . . .”

  “You’re so insane!” She laughed as tears rolled down her face.

  A few minutes later they stood on the front porch of Rainee’s house as crickets chirped far off in the dark, dark night.

  “Thanks for dinner,” Weslee said.

  They stood awkwardly, not saying a word but not wanting to walk away.

  Weslee, for the first time in her life, took the lead and kissed William softly on the lips. His hands moved up to her face and held it close to his as he kissed her back, gently at first, and then deeper and more urgently, pulling her body close to his.

  “William,” she whispered when she could catch a breath.

  “What?” he whispered back.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He pulled her closer to him.

  “For what?”

  “For being so stupid.”

  “No, I was the fool for not snatching you up the first night I laid eyes on you.”

  He kissed her again, harder and deeper this time, and she felt his insistent desire against her body. She pulled back from him hesitantly and looked at Rainee’s house. We should move this inside, she wanted to say. Then she weighed what she wanted right now against what was the right thing to do. He took her face in his hands and, as if reading her thoughts, kissed her again. “Let me let you go inside before we get into trouble.”

  She tossed and turned a half hour later, still flustered and unable to sleep as she grabbed onto the feeling of William’s body against hers, his hands stroking her arms, her back, his lips on her neck. She threw the covers off her as the room seemed to grow warmer.

  The night with William had seemed magical and yet so easy and natural, like it had happened many times before. Sparks flew and fireworks went off, but it didn’t feel as scripted as it had with Duncan. She didn’t feel as if she were being tested—on her background, her manners, her clothing, her knowledge of wine and gourmet food. Heck, she never remembered laughing out loud, really loud, with Duncan. This could be real, she thought. The real thing. But she hesitated as a voice in her head put up the caution signs. Was she once again moving too fast? No way, she argued back. There was something deep, a soul connection, with William that first night they’d met. And tonight they’d reconnected. It just felt so right to be with William, so warm and comfortable. And she could see herself inhabiting that cozy place forever. She looked up at the ceiling. If only Duncan hadn’t come along, she thought. If only she could just forget about him. Her feelings for the two men were like pieces of a puzzle. She worried that her desire to be with William was just a side effect of a confused heart trying to find a substitute for Duncan. She didn’t want to get hurt again. Nor did she want to hurt anyone else.

  She couldn’t deny what she was feeling. I hope I’m not being impulsive and foolish with my heart again, she told herself. But her attempts at injecting common sense into the situation were fruitless. She couldn’t stop thinking about the night. About the way she’d floated when he’d kissed her and left her breathless. When he’d left, promising to call her in the morning, it took all of her willpower to not run after him and beg him to stay the night. She had tiptoed in, not wanting to wake Rainee. But Rainee had left a note on the refrigerator saying that she might not be home—she had a date “with a young gentleman.”

  Now she tossed in the bed, a smile on her face. She would get no sleep tonight, that was for sure. But it wasn’t an altogether bad thing. The thoughts keeping her awake were more than welcome to stay.

  Chapter 41

  Self-promotion is usually not a problem for any entrepreneur worth his business plan, but Weslee was having trouble. It embarrassed her to list her athletic achievements for the pursuit of financial gain. It made her feel as if she was selling out. To what, she couldn’t articulate.

  She frowned as yet another of Rainee’s friends came up to her. “Hi, I hear you’re the one who made Rainee look so fabulous. Do you have any cards?”

  The party was neither grand nor pretentious, but it was lively and interesting. Rainee’s friends formed an eclectic mix, from old-timers who held sway over the island’s social scene to graduate students visiting from the city, hippies, journalists, businessmen, professors, and even a professional basketball player. People mixed easily, and Weslee was having a wonderful time. She stole glances at William as he worked his way around the room, no doubt networking as well as partying. She was trying to do the same. Rainee had said that Lana was invited, but so far she had not shown. Weslee had tried in vain to reach Lana. She had left messages on her cell phone, Eleanor’s answering service, and even at Lana’s apartment in the city, all to no avail.

  Weslee sipped her ginger ale and nodded at an older woman she had met the year before at Eleanor’s party. The woman barely smiled back, walking past her to grab the elbow of Charles Huntlin III, a prominent doctor. Weslee smiled as it occurred to her that a year ago such a snub would have torn her up inside. Now she just shrugged it off. She was about to go find William when she heard a familiar laugh.

  When had she come in? Weslee wondered. Lana was at the other end of the room, surrounded by three other young women. She looked the same, impeccably dressed, her hair bouncing off her shoulders as she leaned her head back to laugh. Weslee walked over to where she was standing.

  “Lana, when did you get here?”

  Lana at first looked uncomfortable, then said, “Oh, just a little while ago. How are you?”

  “I’ve been calling and calling. Didn’t you get any of my messages?”

  The three women turned away and began to talk among themselves.

  “Wes, I’ve just been really busy. I was overseas, and then I came back, and it’s just been really hectic,” Lana said coldly.

  “I know you’ve been busy. So have I, but you could have at least called back.”

  Lana sighed. “OK. Maybe I could have. But look at you.” She smiled the way she did when she was about to make a cutting remark. “You’ve certainly come a long way.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Weslee asked, beginning to see the old Lana coming back.

  “Well, you’re wearing the right clothes, and you’re here among all the beautiful people, and you’re here all on your own. It’s what you’ve always wanted, right?”

  “Excuse me?” Weslee couldn’t believe her ears. And all this time she thought Lana had changed.

  “Everybody just loves you, Wes,” Lana said sardonically. “Rainee and all her divorcée friends, they all want you to come to their parties. You’re quite a hit.”

  Weslee felt anger and hurt welling up inside her. “Lana,” she said, her voice firm and low. “You know what I’ve just realized?”

  Lana looked at her with a question in her eyes.

  “You’re a sad, sad person. I hope you work out all your problems, and I wish you the best of luck in life. And, yes, I want to thank you for showing me what a real friend should be and shouldn’t be. Good-bye.”

  Weslee walked to the other end of the room where William was standing.

  “Let’s leave. Let’s go to yo
ur hotel or something,” she said.

  “Why, what’s wrong?”

  “I just need to get away from this place for a while.”

  William persuaded Weslee to take a walk down the dark, dark streets of the island.

  They held hands and walked silently down the quiet road. It was only eleven P.M., but there were few cars on the street. The night was warm and peaceful, with the smell of sea salt in the air. Weslee could see the stars as she stole a look up at the sky.

  “I don’t understand her,” Weslee said remorsefully. “I’ve never met anyone like her. I’ve done all I can. It’s over.”

  “I’ve known Lana for a long time, and she’s always been this way, Weslee. It’s not you.”

  “That’s the thing, William. I know that now, but for a long time I thought that I could change her if I was more patient. That there was another layer to her that was more . . . more compassionate.”

  “You can’t control other people, Wes. The only person you have control over is yourself,” William said as they walked to the harbor. They sat on a bench, holding hands in the dark.

  “She’s been such a witch to me. Even after I took care of her after the accident . . .” Weslee paused. She did not want Lana to ruin her time with William. It wasn’t worth it. She’d wasted enough time already. “Let’s talk about something else,” she said.

  “OK,” William said and put an arm around her shoulder. “How about we talk about what you want.”

  “What I want?”

  “Yes. You. What do you want?”

  Weslee tried to figure out what he was asking. “From life?”

  “From life.”

  Her heart thudded. She was not prepared for this question.

  “I’m glad you’re giving it some thought,” he joked.

  “Well, I want happiness. Like everybody else. I want to be happy. I . . . I want to have a career that fulfills me and a comfortable life. Isn’t that what everybody wants?” Where is he going with this? she wondered.

  “Most people want that,” William said. Then, “What about the other part of happiness? The love part.”

  Oh, I see, she thought. She didn’t want to reveal too much to him, but she wanted him to know how she felt. “I want someone I’m comfortable with, someone trustworthy. Someone who makes me feel good about being me all the time, even when I’m sweaty and wearing sneakers.” She laughed as he raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and he must worship the ground I walk on.”

  “Worship?” he asked, turning to her.

  “Worship.” She smiled.

  “That’s easy,” he said, taking her face in his hands and drawing his lips to hers.

  Then she pulled back. “And what about you? What do you want?”

  He looked up at the sky. “I want someone who’s kind. And sweet and smart. And beautiful.” He turned to face her. “I want someone I know I can always count on no matter what. Someone who I’ll never need to lie to because she’ll believe in me even when I’m screwing up.” He smiled apologetically. “This list could go on for days. As you can tell, I’ve given it a lot of thought.”

  She nodded. “I wish I could say the same. I like to think of myself as so even-keeled and pragmatic. But when it comes to relationships, I tend to lose all my common sense and go with my emotions, and that approach just hasn’t worked.”

  “Emotions aren’t all bad,” he said.

  “Yeah. But sometimes they blind you to reality,” Weslee said. “But I’m learning. I have learned.”

  “What have you learned?” he asked.

  “I learned that I should always go with my gut.” She recalled the first night she’d laid eyes on William and the feelings that he’d stirred inside of her. Again she wanted to kick herself for allowing Duncan to enter her life.

  William took her hand in his, and she laid her head on his shoulder.

  “I don’t want to go back to the city,” she said, wanting this moment with William to last for an eternity.

  He leaned his head on hers. “Me, neither.”

  Chapter 42

  The change in landscape from Falmouth to Dorchester was not only a result of nature. The two-hour drive made the eye accustomed to well cared for homes with gardens and carefully tended lawns and then landscaped highways with neat green vegetation on either side. Therefore the entrance into the city that began at the top of Route 28 was the visual equivalent of seeing a beautiful woman from afar and then finding that she had disturbingly crooked teeth or crossed eyes when you got up close.

  It had been a long drive, and Weslee could not wait to get out of her car, but the distressing sights of city life made her want to head back toward the Vineyard. It was Monday evening, so giant buses clogged the streets, and pedestrians, ignoring the rules of the road, jay-ran in front of frazzled drivers anxious to be home after a long day’s travail in the city’s innards.

  The calm that had settled into Weslee over the weekend dissipated as she maneuvered her way through double-parked cars on Blue Hill Avenue. Oblivious teenagers slowly made their way across the street, ignoring the horns of other motorists and the occasional police car speeding by, lights flashing, on its way to the latest emergency. When she finally made it to Sherry’s house, she felt as if she had just been through a raging storm.

  “That’s Boston’s rush hour for you,” Sherry said as Weslee put her things away. “I made a huge dinner, Jamaican-style,” she added, putting on her Jamaican accent.

  Weslee felt a little annoyed. She wished Sherry would let her at least cook or do something to help around the house, but her friend would have none of it. Weslee knew better than to think it was because of Sherry’s magnanimity—the woman was a total control freak.

  Weslee uncovered the pots on the stove in the kitchen, and saw that Sherry had cooked up a storm: rice and beans, jerk chicken—she had even made a pineapple upside-down cake and ginger beer.

  “Sherry, who’s going to eat all this food!” Weslee said as she inhaled the aromas over the stove.

  “I’ll take some of it to Larry’s folks.” Larry’s elderly parents had now become another one of Sherry’s labors of love.

  Weslee began to set the table, as Sherry always required, in Sherry’s mauve dining room. The colors of the house seemed dizzying to her compared with the understated chic of Rainee Smalls’s vacation home. But she had to admit, the brightness of it uplifted her mood.

  “So, tell me all about the weekend with the black—no, the café au lait—bourgeoisie,” Sherry said as they sat down to dinner.

  Sherry was silent when Weslee told her about her encounter with William, then indignant when told about Lana’s snub.

  “I’m sorry, girl. I would have smacked her right across her bony face when she said that,” Sherry said. “What does she mean ‘You’re doing well for yourself.’ Humph! You were doing well for yourself long before you even knew she existed.”

  “I think she thinks that she did me a favor by bringing me out to the Vineyard that time last year. I mean, yes, she’s not totally wrong. If I had never gone out there with her, Rainee Smalls would not have recognized me at HealthyLife that day and I wouldn’t have all the clients I have today.”

  “Weslee, are you serious? The woman was your customer at the spa, OK? She liked your work. Even if she had never seen you before, things still could have turned out the way they did.”

  Weslee sighed. “True. OK. But I wouldn’t have met William or Duncan if it hadn’t been for her.”

  “Why are you trying to give her credit? You need to just let it go. This may hurt your feelings, but she was only friends with you because her life was falling apart. You said it yourself. She’s clean and sober now, and she’s all into her light-skinned, straight-nosed Jack and Jill friends. I think you just need to let that woman go. She was never your friend.”

  “I know. I just feel sorry for her in a way, and for myself, too.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I think if she were a different person, we c
ould have been friends. And I kinda wish I hadn’t taken all that crap from her.”

  Sherry rolled her eyes. “Hey, it happens to all of us. Just don’t let it happen again. And, no, she can only be who she is.”

  “So, what do you think about William?”

  Sherry took a forkful of rice in her mouth.

  “Well?” Weslee asked.

  “Honestly?”

  “Yes, honestly, Sherry!”

  “Less than a year ago you said you guys were just friends, and you were all hung up on Mr. Perfect. I just don’t know if you’re sure of what you’re doing,” Sherry said.

  “I know, I thought the same thing. But I always liked him. I met him first, before I met Duncan, and right away I knew I liked him. But I was just confused by you-know-who.”

  Sherry’s look was skeptical. “Are you sure you’re not just doing this on the rebound or to get back at you-know-who?”

  “I’m sure. I’ve thought about it. I think about William all the time.”

  “And what about him?” Sherry asked. “Isn’t he mad at you for picking Duncan over him?”

  “No, I don’t think so. It didn’t quite happen like that. I mean, we had an initial attraction, but he was so busy at the time that we never got together. Then I was with Duncan and he was with that Megan.”

  “That girl we saw him with in Killington?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hmmm. She was something,” Sherry said, shaking her head.

  “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.” Weslee glared at Sherry.

  “No, I’m just saying that she was fine. But you look better than her,” Sherry laughed. “Well, I’d just advise you to take it slow. You don’t want to go through another heartbreak so soon.”

  “No. I think this is going to turn out all right, Sherry. I feel so right with him. I’m not nervous and jumpy like I was with Duncan. He just makes me feel so good.”

  Sherry nodded. “Like I said, give it time.”

  Chapter 43

  Weslee looked out Sherry’s living room window to the street, where yet another carful of teenage boys sped past, their car stereo rocking the house. But she smiled this time. She had asked Sherry how she tolerated all the noise. Sherry had said, “After a while you don’t even hear it anymore.” Weslee still heard it, but it bothered her less and less. She was starting to see why Sherry stayed in this neighborhood even though she could sell her house for five hundred thousand dollars and move to Milton or Randolph, where most of the middle-class blacks and West Indians were beginning to settle. Sherry knew all her neighbors; she still babysat for some of their children’s children; she made cookies for the elderly couple next door; she took out the trash for the quadriplegic man two houses up. She yelled at the kids when they dropped burger wrappers and soda cans on the street, and they didn’t yell back—they picked up their litter. People knew her, and she knew them. Weslee could see why she would not leave.