by Meka James
Dr. Carr leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knee. “Calida, I believe in letting my patients set the pacing of therapy based on their needs. You tell me what your problems and goals are, and I try to act as a guide to help you overcome those problems and achieve those goals. But…I can only help you if you want to be helped.”
I frowned in her direction. “Of course I want to be helped. I wouldn’t keep coming here and paying you two-hundred an hour if I didn’t.”
“Okay. Well, I know the relationship you had with Seth was abusive, both mentally, and physically at times. But, I get the distinct feeling that although you’ve told me some of what went on, you haven’t told me everything. And whatever you’re holding back is what is also keeping you from being open to the idea of being in a relationship. Whether it’s with Malcolm or anyone.”
Dr. Carr sat back in her chair and gave me her “I see through you” look. Again, she was trying to know more about my relationship with Seth. What I’d told her was sufficient. I’d had two serious relationships with men that hurt me. That alone was enough to support my reason for not wanting to try again, but she didn’t see it that way. No one saw it that way. I was in the minority on what I thought was best for me. Intimacy, sex, both of those came with relationships, and both were something I wanted to avoid. However, I couldn’t tell Dr. Carr that, because she’d want to know why, and some demons I’d rather not talk about.
I rose from my seat. “Thanks for fitting me in last minute.”
She mirrored my actions. “I always keep one or two slots open in my day in case of an emergency.”
“I’ll see you next week.” I grabbed my purse and headed toward the door.
“Calida.”
I turned to look at her.
“For the record, he didn’t take away your right to choose. You allowed the choice to be made by not saying how you really felt.”
I gave a small nod and exited the office, and waved bye to her receptionist, before heading to the ladies room. I rushed into the nearest stall, and leaned my back against the closed door. Deep breath in, slow breath out. In. Out. I massaged my temples and tried to let the silence of the restroom seep into me and bring some peace.
Why was the success of my life, of my recovery, measured by whether or not I was in a relationship? I was here, continuing to live each day. I hadn’t given in to those suicidal thoughts that had once plagued me. Why wasn’t my success measured by that? Because no one knew about those thoughts. Malcolm did take away my choice. He knew having our families there would put me on the spot. Regardless of what Dr. Carr thought, he’d taken advantage.
As I lightly banged the back of my head against the stall door, the nagging acknowledgment that Dr. Carr was right wormed its way in. I had let him take advantage. But what was I supposed to do? Tell him I rather be an old maid the rest of my life than risk my heart and body again? That would have opened up a whole other can of worms. The buzzing sound of my phone vibrating distracted me before I could start down that self-destructive path. Malcolm’s name flashed across the screen. I squeezed my eyes together, trying to will away the persistent dull ache in my head. I thought about sending it to voicemail, but I took a breath and put on my happy face before answering.
“Hey, Mal.”
“Hey, whatcha up to? I’ve been trying to call you.”
“Oh, sorry. My phone was on vibrate, so I didn’t hear it. Did you need something?”
“Yeah, I wanted to know what time you wanted to see the house.”
“House?”
“You said you’d take a tour.”
I pulled the phone away from my ear as I let out a muffled groan. “Oh, right. Um, whenever’s good.”
“Okay, well, how ‘bout I come by and pick you up. We can grab a bite to eat and head over afterwards.”
“Can I meet you? I…I’m not home.”
“Where are you?”
I couldn’t tell him I was at Dr. Carr’s office. My weekly sessions were common knowledge. If I told him I’d come in for an additional session, he’d ask why, and I didn’t want to get into that.
“Just out running errands. Where do you want to meet?”
“Flying Biscuit on Piedmont.”
After hanging up, I took a few steady breaths before heading out to meet him.
Chapter 3
Malcolm
I sat in my truck in the parking lot behind the restaurant while I waited on Ginger. Turning up the radio, I rested my head against the black leather headrest and started jamming along to Jason Derulo’s “Talk Dirty to Me.” A few minutes later I heard a tapping on my window. I looked over to see Ginger’s smiling face. She stepped back as I opened the door.
“Having a dance party?”
“Nope. Practicing up for my career as a rapper,” I responded, and leaned down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Well, don’t quit your day job just yet,” she replied, smoothing down the back of her hair.
I reached out to touch one of the shortened strands. I remembered the shock I’d had the first time I saw her after she’d hacked it all off. The cut she wore now looked cute on her, but I liked it longer.
“Are you ever going to let it grow out?”
She shrugged and took a step back. “This is really easy to care for. Why? You don’t like it?” She ran her fingers down the back of her head again.
I grabbed her hand and kissed the palm. “I like it just fine. Come on, I’m starving.”
I held her hand while we walked the short distance to the front entrance. Luckily, we’d missed the morning rush, which meant we got seated without having to wait. The windows were open, allowing for a cross breeze to flow through. The lively sounds of Piedmont Ave. drifted in, drowning out the music playing from the speakers.
Ginger twirled the ring around her finger while she looked over the menu. She’d moved it to the right hand, but at least she still wore it. That fact alone made me happy. The waiter came and brought two glasses of water.
“What?” she asked when she saw me staring.
“Nothing.”
“Then what’s with the goofy grin?”
“This face does sexy, handsome, irresistible, and several other looks, but never goofy.”
She hid behind her hands and started laughing. “You’re such a weirdo,” she said, reaching for her water glass.
I leaned forward and took ahold of her hands. “Yeah, but I’m your weirdo.”
The smile dropped from her face, and she eased free from my grasp.
She picked up her menu and used it like a shield. “I think I want the organic pancakes.”
After we placed our orders, I noticed Ginger kept her hands in her lap, and out of my reach. Just like last night, I wanted to say something but didn’t.
“So, how long will your parents keep Lil man?” I asked.
She shrugged. “They’re never in any rush to give him back, but I’m gonna pick him up after we tour your house.”
“It’s not my house. Not yet, and I was serious yesterday when I said I want you to love it. I want it to be for us.”
“Mal, I told you I need time. Last night you wanted me to spend the night with you. Now you’re talking about us living together. I feel like life has been thrown into fast forward, and I’m not there yet.”
Our server returned, bringing our drinks. Ginger gave him a quiet thank you then took a long drink of her mimosa, nearly emptying the glass before the guy left our table.
“That’s because you’re stuck on pause,” I countered once he’d left. “I’m not dense, Calida. You barely want me to touch you, so I’m not expecting you to move in with me right away. But that doesn’t stop me from planning for the future, our future. And you make it sound like I was trying to get you in bed. I was concerned about you.”
Ginger played with the placement of her silverware, focusing her attention on those three pieces. “I’m not on pause.” She le
aned forward and let out a huff of air. “If it was up to you and our families, we’d have been on the next plane to Vegas for a quickie wedding. You’re busy making plans for a future without bothering to ask me if it’s what I want.” Her words were accompanied with angry pointing in my direction. She spoke low, but that did little to soften the bite behind them.
“What the hell does that mean?” The positive feelings I’d had were making quick retreat.
“Nothing, Mal.” She sat back and finished off the remains of her drink, doing her best not to look directly at me. I could almost hear the click of the steel doors as they locked in place around her. “What time are we meeting your agent?”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Shut down on me.”
Our server returned with our food and a refill for Ginger without her ordering another. She put her focus on her plate, leaving our conversation hanging. I followed her lead, and we ate in silence. Well, I ate. She mostly picked at her food.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” she said.
“Then don’t,” I replied. “Just talk to me. We’ve known each other for years. We’re friends above all else. All you have to do is talk to me.”
She nodded but said nothing. This was not how I imagined the first days of our relationship going. Mostly because I’d thought once I laid it all out for her, things would be different, but they weren’t. I’d thought that once she knew, once she’d heard me say the words, that she’d truly see and understand everything I’d done for the last few years had been for her. That she’d see how deep my feelings ran for her. Only none of that happened. If anything, she now acted more reluctant and closed than before. She kept her head down, doing her best to avoid looking at me. It hurt.
“Are you finished?” I asked.
Instead of eating, Ginger worked to make the frayed threads of the ripped tablecloth straight. She’d barely finished half her food, but she’d drank three mimosas.
“Yeah.”
I paid the check then escorted Ginger to her car. I wanted to touch her, to hold her hand, but I didn’t. I walked with my arms folded across my chest, and with at least a foot of space between us. During the short drive to the house, I wondered if I made the right choice yesterday. I wanted to believe she was ready for this step, but now she had me second guessing that. There were pockets of time where she’d be like her old self; laughing, and even flirting some like before. Maybe I’d read too much into those moments.
I kept glancing at my rearview mirror, checking to see that Ginger was still behind me. The mood change over brunch made me nervous. Ginger was in flight mode, and part of me feared she’d veer off and go home instead of coming to view the house.
When we arrived, my agent Brenda was waiting for us.
“Malcolm, how nice to see you again,” the older woman said. “And this must be the lovely young lady you talk about so often.” She smiled in Ginger’s direction.
“Hey, Brenda, thanks again for letting me in yesterday. And yes, this is my girlfriend Calida.”
Brenda extended her hand toward Ginger. “Nice to meet you, dear. I’ve heard so many great things about you already.”
Ginger gave a tight smile in return while they shook hands.
“Okay,” Brenda said, walking toward the door. “Calida, I think you’ll love this place. The location can’t be beat. Malcolm says you have a young son.”
“I do. He’s a little over one.”
“Then, yes, this location is wonderful. The park is walking distance from here, plus the botanical gardens. Not to mention Fernbank. Perfect location for a growing family.”
Ginger gave Brenda a nod, but said nothing.
“The home has four bedrooms, four and a half baths, and sits on a fully finished basement,” Brenda said, starting in on her sales pitch. “These beautiful hardwoods are found throughout the home. I love the warm, rich color. I prefer the darker woods like these.”
“Yes, they are nice,” Ginger replied.
“Do you cook? Malcolm told me he only used the kitchen to hold take-out menus.”
Ginger glanced over at me and rolled her eyes with a small shake of her head. “That sounds like him. I cook some. I’ve gotten better than I used to be.”
“Then you will probably appreciate the professional line range and oversized refrigerator more than Malcolm did.”
We followed Brenda through the house, and Ginger looked around and nodded while Brenda rattled off all the finer points of the home. Ginger loved the double staircase and the oversized secondary bedrooms. My favorite room in the basement was the media room that even had the old-fashioned red velvet curtain operated by a remote. Both women made comments about me acting like a big kid over that feature. Once the tour was complete, Brenda led us back into the open-concept great room area.
“Tell me what you think?” Brenda asked, looking over at Ginger. “Malcolm keeps coming back to this house, so I know he really likes it, but wanted your opinion.”
Ginger turned toward me. She seemed a little shell shocked, but then she smiled before lacing her fingers with mine. It felt good to have her reach out for me.
“It’s a stunning home, Brenda. Even though there’s lots of space, it doesn’t feel…overwhelming.” She turned and looked at me. “I like it, Mal. I think you should put in an offer.”
“Well, I have the paperwork with me if you are ready to do it now,” Brenda said.
Chapter 4
Calida
I stepped outside while Malcolm and Brenda went over the paperwork. Leaning against my car, I pressed my palms to my eyes and tried to wrap my head around things. I told him I wanted to check on Shawn, but I really needed away from him. He was buying a house, setting down roots here since his company only required him in the office once a month. He said he didn’t expect me to move in right away, but it was a lie.
Everyone told me I needed to sell my house, that I needed a fresh start. Now he was in there making an offer on a place for the future he saw. He’d said our house. Sharing a room with him, being with him; my chest tightened at the thought. I needed to tell him I couldn’t do this. No, I can’t do that. I told him to make an offer. I gave him more hope. Shit! I was digging myself a bigger hole.
“…you allowed the choice to be made…” Dr. Carr’s words replayed in my head.
Malcolm and Brenda strolled out a few minutes later talking and smiling. His smile broadened when he saw me. Malcolm was a good man. He deserved better, but he was intent on being with me.
“In forty-eight hours, I’ll know if I’m a homeowner,” he said, wrapping his arms around my waist.
I tensed. His large frame swallowed me. Being trapped between him and my car amplified the fearful, claustrophobic thoughts that were always in the back of my mind. My hands went to his chest. I needed some sort of a barrier. Brenda waved goodbye to us as she climbed into her BMW.
“Congrats,” I replied, fighting down the urge to push him back. Breathe, just breathe. “I need to go pick up Shawn.” I prayed that excuse would gain me freedom. It didn’t.
Malcolm placed his fingers under my chin, lifting my face toward him. His hazel eyes searched my face. His thumb ran across my lips, and he looked as if he were debating his course of action. He frowned and took a step back. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t want you to feel rushed or pressured.”
“It’s okay. And I’m sorry too. I know yesterday, last night, you weren’t implying, or trying to—”
“Hey, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” He gave me that boyish grin I’d loved so much. A different time in my life it would have given me excited butterflies.
“So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?”
“I’m going to go pick up Shawn, then after that nothing.”
“Are you up for some company later? Dinner and a movie a
t my place?”
“I’ll have Shawn. My parents had him last night,” I replied in the hope that would be enough. He’d looked hurt when I turned down his invitation last night, and I didn’t want to do that again.
“He’s invited,” he answered, demolishing my objection.
Shit! If I turned him down again, then we could get into another argument, and I didn’t want to fight with him.
“Sure, what time?”
He gave a broad grin. “Six?”
“Okay.”
His warm hands were on my cheeks, and I instantly braced for impact. He’d wanted to kiss me moments ago; I saw it in his eyes. The look was still there. His six-foot-five frame loomed above me, and I mentally counted to ten, trying to not let my rising anxiety gain too much momentum.
Malcolm leaned down, resting his forehead against mine. His eyes were closed. He didn’t speak. He simply held me there, taking slow, controlled breaths. I watched him and waited. Taking my own controlled breaths as I worked to keep myself in check, and prepare for what would come next.
Being this close, I focused on his features for the first time in a long time. My eyes went to his lips first. They had a natural rosy pink hue that stood out against his warm bronze skin tone. His lips. Full, soft lips that kissed me yesterday. I recalled the tickle of his beard against my skin. He kept it close cut, but the fine hairs on his top lip had brushed against mine. His dreads were braided back, a style he adopted in the summer months. He and Macy shared the same honey brown hair color as well as the same eye color.
No denying Malcolm was a handsome man, but I’d learned the hard way, not all pretty faces could be trusted.
After maybe a minute, he kissed my forehead and stepped away. He gave a half grin. “I’ll see you at six.”
I nodded my agreement. When he reached forward to open my car door, I flinched. The smile left his face, and he looked down at the ground with a subtle shake of his head. He stepped away.
I climbed into my SUV. “I’ll see you later.”