by Candice Dow
His skin was so smooth, caramel and yummy. My mouth watered as I gazed at him on the screen. He still had a nice, even haircut with a meticulous shapeup, and his face was clean-shaven. It was like he had matured without aging. I stared into his chestnut eyes and it felt so familiar, so recent. Momentarily, I wished I’d found him eight months ago, when he was still single.
I snickered to myself. Like what would I have done with him? Eight months ago, I was adamant about starting a family with my husband and in what I thought was marital bliss. Since Kenneth and I hadn’t really communicated over the past couple of months, I began to wonder what we ever had in common.
The number to Devin’s campaign office beamed from the screen. I minimized the window and thought about the consequences. Then I opened it again. I looked at the cordless phone and dialed the number. It was nothing more than getting in touch with an old friend. I took a few quick, deep breaths, not sure where all the emotion was stemming from. Finally, a young lady answered, “Devin Patterson 2008. May I help you?”
My mouth stretched wide, but nothing came out. What if this is his wife? I cleared my throat. “Good afternoon. My name is Clark Winston. I am the owner of an all-girl group home in Baltimore, and I just registered eight girls online for the Girl Power conference.”
“Yes,” she said slowly, as if she was trying to understand why the hell I was calling.
I hesitated. “Well, I’m really impressed how the organization was able to pull this off for no fee and that’s something that I’ve considered doing in Baltimore, but…”
I took a deep breath, because I didn’t know what the hell to say next. She said, “Well, I don’t know who’s here that can help you, but I can have the event coordinator give you a call back.”
I hesitated because I wanted to speak to Devin, not some event planner. “Uh, is it possible for me to speak with Mr. Patterson?”
“Well, he’s really busy, and you may make out better speaking with his campaign manager or the event coordinator to get your questions answered.”
“Is it possible that you can just give Mr. Patterson my message and if I don’t hear from him, I’ll call back and speak with the event coordinator?”
She huffed like my request was senseless and didn’t make sense to her, but I didn’t care. I left my name and number despite her irritation and hoped she really gave it to him. I wanted my number in Devin’s hands and I prayed that he would use it. If not, maybe that was good, too. Maybe that meant that I didn’t need to talk to him. My hands covered my face. I couldn’t believe what I’d just done. Did I open up a great big can of worms? My heart raced and I couldn’t think of anything but how happy I used to be when I was young, problem free, financially free, and in love with Devin Patterson.
11
DEVIN
There was just me and a no-name on the Democratic ballot for the primary election. So I clinched the nomination hands down. As of February 6, 2008, I was the nominee and the campaign was on. Most experts suggest closer to Labor Day is the time to heavily campaign for a congressional run, but Curtis and I had new ideas, and we wanted to put them in motion ASAP. We held our first The Vibe Happy Hour last night, two weeks after the primary, and it was a major success. Raheem DeVaughn performed, and he donated his fee to the campaign. We promoted through the typical party promoter channels and mass mailings, and tickets sold like hotcakes. Since many of the targeted voters living in the Maryland district worked in DC, we held the event at the Posh Supper Club. People came mainly to party and unwind after a rough day’s work, but I made sure they knew the purpose of the night. We worked with the restaurant to have a signature drink of the evening, the DP Congressional Cosmo, and it seemed to be a big hit, especially for the ladies. We had a voter’s registration station at the front door and pamphlets for each person who entered.
But instead of celebrating the success of the Vibe event, I was sending Taylor text messages, wondering what was taking her so long. When she and Courtney finally arrived, they were dolled up in cocktail dresses as if they were coming to cop men. I was pissed when she finally walked through the door. Meanwhile, Curtis’s wife and other female supporters were there from the time we opened the door, handing out pamphlets and pens and soliciting e-mail addresses for our database.
Taylor tried to offer help, but I was irritated and basically didn’t acknowledge her existence. If she really wanted to be there, she would have come at an appropriate time. After I practically ignored her, she and Courtney rolled out close to the end of the event. When I got home, I decided to rest in the family room on the couch. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with her.
I woke up the next morning and went into the bedroom and said, “Taylor, things have to change.”
She pulled the covers over her head. “Tell me about it, Devin.”
I stood over her. “We need to talk.”
“You want to talk to me?” She sat up. “Really, I didn’t know. You make all other decisions on your own—what do you have to talk to me about?”
I went into the bathroom to take a shower and think about what I wanted to say to her. I didn’t know how to approach it, but I wanted her to play more of an active role. But on the other hand, I knew she didn’t ask for this. So, I decided the more considerate route would probably be more effective than the angry approach. I came out of the bathroom and asked her if I could meet her for lunch. She sucked her teeth. “Text me and tell me where.”
* * *
I sat at BLT Steak, waiting for Taylor to arrive, going over ways to get her on my side. She walked in bundled in a green wool coat and her shades on top of her head. She removed her black leather gloves and stuck them in her purse. She offered me a half-smirk as she took off her coat. “Hey, Devin.”
“Hey, you. What’s up?”
She adjusted the large belt wrapped around her tight-fitting black sweater dress before she sat down. Just then, my BlackBerry buzzed three times in a row. She huffed and her forehead wrinkled; clearly she was annoyed. I pulled it out of my pocket and cut it off.
She turned her lips up and I kidded, “Fix your face. You have my undivided attention.”
“Oh, thank you. I’m so honored,” she said sarcastically.
“So how’s your father’s rehab coming along?”
She shifted in her seat. “Do you really care?”
“Taylor? You know I care.”
“He’s doing fine. You know he’s a fighter. He says he’s going to preach this week.”
“Didn’t they say three months?”
“It has been almost three months, or haven’t you noticed,” she said defensively.
I could tell this conversation was getting nowhere fast. I’d hoped talking about her father would be an icebreaker, but clearly I was still out in the cold.
The waiter came over and took our drink order. I asked for a bottle of Shiraz, her favorite red wine. She ordered a royal red martini. I decided not to say anything. All I wanted was to have a glass of wine, toast, discuss my marriage. If she’d rather have a different drink, what could I do?
When the waiter brought our drinks, he opened the wine and poured some for me to taste. I nodded and he looked at Taylor and she raised her hand. “No, thanks.”
I lifted my glass and assumed she’d follow. My head tilted slightly. Finally, she lifted her glass, rested her elbow on the table. “Okay, you do the toast,” I said.
Her neck rolled. “Oh, you don’t want me to do the toast.”
“Whatchu mean by that?”
“Well, I’m wishing for things that you’re not wishing for.”
“What?”
She said, “Devin, I want peace. I want the phones to stop ringing. I want to go out and have a drink and not worry about how I’m sitting. I want to hang out with my friends and travel and have fun and not worry about my image or about being by my husband’s side for promotional pictures, attending fund-raisers, community events, school board meetings, or”—she used her fingers as quotation ma
rks—“the damn campaign.”
I laughed. “So I have a question. Do you think you’d feel this way if I ran in four years or if I did it now?”
“I really don’t know.”
“Did you marry me in hopes that this day would never come?”
“I married you hoping that we’d enjoy our life together for a moment and then the whirlwind would come. I never thought this whirlwind would come so early.”
I nodded and thought about what I should say next. I wanted to be sure I was being fair. This was a selfish quest, but I searched long and hard to find a woman I thought could handle it.
“Well, Taylor, if you don’t change your attitude we’re going to have a long road ahead of us.”
She shifted a little in her seat. I was tired of the bratty behavior. I thought I married a soldier, but obviously I didn’t. We ate in silence. I wished I could tell her about all the exciting new things and upcoming events that Curtis had planned, but all she could see was how everything was inconvenient to her. Shit, the last time I checked, marriage is inconvenient.
As we were wrapping up lunch, I said, “Taylor, why are you so against this? I feel like you’re losing sight of why you married me.”
She looked down at the napkin on the table, then back up at me. She fidgeted a little. After taking a sequence of deep breaths, she said, “My mother.” She closed her eyes. Finally, she continued. “She spent her whole life being supportive. I’m sure she had things she enjoyed doing and things that mattered to her, but I never knew what they were. She had to conform to the image. She was and still is nothing more than Bishop Jabowski’s wife. When we were kids, we had to worry about how we dressed, what we said, how people saw us. Sometimes I felt so trapped, so restrained, that I could scream. When I finally got out of that house, it was like releasing a wild tiger. I wanted to be everything but a good girl. And for so long, they couldn’t accept me for me. Finally, now that I’m married, I am back in the family and no one judges me.” She looked at me. “And the second that I can be free without judgment, you decide that you want me to go back to being judged, to worrying about my image. I just don’t want to.”
I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t say what I knew she wanted me to say. So I looked away and shook my head. She had her reasons. I had mine, but someone had to surrender.
She shrugged. “But like I said, I’ll be there to do everything you need me to do, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”
It wasn’t her job to be ecstatic about my dream, but some understanding was better than none. I reached out to shake her hand.
“Okay, Taylor. I promise I won’t stress you about being excited and I’ll make sure your schedule is as light as possible. Deal?”
She smiled. “Deal.”
I stood up and pulled her chair out. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “I love you, Taylor J.”
She swung around and pecked me. “I love you, too.”
I grabbed her hand and was glad that we had that heart-to-heart. But at the end of the day, we both were still selfish. We held hands as we walked to her car. I gave her a hug and kissed her forehead. “I want to make love to you tonight.”
“Well, don’t stay out too long,” she joked, and began singing, “Tapping my shoulder, thinking you gon’ get you some.”
Her silliness made me smile, because I missed that. I didn’t really like the serious Taylor. As I closed her car door, all I could think about was getting everything done and rushing home to hold her. I drifted to my car and cruised down the road. There was no music playing, no thoughts roaming in my mind as I took in the momentary solace. Out of nowhere, it hit me. Shit, I’d had my cell phone off. I yanked it from my coat pocket and turned it on.
New messages filled the screen and I shifted my eyes on and off the road as I weighed the importance of each. I flipped through the phone message texts from my secretary. Clark Winston. I read on. She was a group home director in Baltimore, interested in organizing a free girls’ seminar. I’d never met another female with the name Clark. For a moment, I hoped it was my Clark, but I knew it wasn’t. My Clark was an engineer and had no interest in public service, nor could I imagine my feisty little ex-girlfriend not to hyphenate her last name. Yet I was anxious to dial the number.
The moment she answered, it felt like a missing piece of me had returned. I wanted to see her. She sounded exactly the same. Her smoky, soothing voice sent a chill through me. I let it seep through my veins like a drug. My temporary intoxication made me speechless. She repeated, “Good afternoon. Clark Winston speaking.”
“Is this Clark Anderson?”
12
CLARK
The blood circulating through my body stopped in its tracks. My jaws locked with anticipation and fear. I’d awaited this call all afternoon, so why wasn’t I prepared? “Yes,” I said finally, contemplating if I should acknowledge that I knew who he was, too.
He sighed. “Clark. Wow. This is quite a surprise.”
“Yes, it is. I received a pamphlet today and I couldn’t believe it when I saw your face. How long have you been in Maryland?”
“I’ve been living here for nearly two years, but I’ve had an office in DC for almost three years now.”
Nervously, I chuckled. “Right in my backyard, huh?”
“Yeah, basically. Where are you? What are you doing?”
“Uh, I’m working. I’m in Baltimore. What about you?”
“I guess you know that I’m running for Congress.”
“Yes, I know. I got your brochure for the girls’ conference. You know I run a girls’ group home now.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious. I’ve been doing this for five years.”
“Clark, that’s wonderful. I’m proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you. Do you know that you told me that you would run for Congress in the 2012 election when we were in college?”
He laughed. “I’m sure I did. That was always my plan. It just came a little sooner than I expected.”
“I’m sure you were prepared, though. I’m really happy for you.”
“Are you serious? I thought you still hated me.”
I laughed. “No, I don’t hate you anymore, Devin. I’ve been married for a long time.”
“Any kids?”
My heart skipped a beat. “Nah, no kids yet.”
“What are you waiting for?”
That question always hurt, no matter where it came from or how many times I heard it. “Just enjoying life. You know?”
“I feel you. I just have the one daughter and she’s definitely a handful.”
“I can only imagine.” Though, inside, I didn’t want to imagine the little girl that tore us apart.
“I would love to grab lunch and catch up one day soon, if that’s okay with you.”
“Uh.”
“If I recall correctly, your uh means ‘maybe,’ and maybe means ‘no.’?”
I laughed, because Morgan and Mia say the same thing about me. “No, it doesn’t. It just means ‘uh.’?”
“Uh, when would you be available for lunch?”
I wasn’t ready for this. Not yet, anyway. I didn’t even know why I called. The long pause forced him to rethink his comment. “Clark, just as friends. It’s been a long time.”
“Why don’t you let me know when you’re available?”
“I mean, my schedule is tight, with the campaign and visiting Nicole in New York.”
“Well, just let me know,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.
“I have some free time this afternoon.”
My neck snapped back. “This afternoon?”
“Yes. Does that work for you?”
“Uh.” I contemplated. “That’s tight. I mean, it just seems too soon.”
“It is soon. But I just looked at my calendar and it’s tight and now that I’ve talked to you, I’m dying to just catch up. It doesn’t have to be a real lunch, maybe just coffee. What do y
ou think?”
“You know what? Why not? Where do you want to meet?” I said, snapping to my senses. I quickly opened my makeup compact to check myself. I was fine, but was I fine enough to see him? I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to go home and change. Why did I need him to still find me attractive? I was confused, wavering between excitement and fear. There was no way a phone call should have made me feel this way.
“Are you near Columbia?”
“Yeah, I’m in Ellicott City. Actually I’m too close to Columbia.”
He laughed. “Well, what about Route 29 and 216? Do you feel comfortable there?”
“Devin.” I sucked my teeth. “It’s not that I feel uncomfortable anywhere. I’m not exactly putting this meeting on my public calendar.”
“Me either. There’s a coffee shop, the Daily Grind, it’s partially in the cut. If you could meet me there around four, that would be ideal.”
I took a deep breath and held the phone closely. “I can do that.” Suddenly all the bad memories disappeared and my mind flooded with how wonderful our love used to be. The anxiety increased with each thought, and I couldn’t wait to see him. I never knew or never wanted to accept that I missed him this much.
He paused, then said, “Please do.”
He was always so eloquent with words. When I hung up, my body trembled and my mind did convulsions, but my heart was still. Still, mesmerized by him. By the time I could move, I was literally running to the bathroom. My stomach was upset and my breathing was rapid. I felt I should cancel this meeting. No other man should have this type of effect on me, but I knew even if I didn’t go, it didn’t mean the feelings would go away. It just meant I was suppressing them again. The way I’d been doing for the past nine years. It was time to be honest with myself.
I rushed home, hoping to get there before Kenneth. I rushed into my room to change my clothes. I put on jeans and took them off. I put on slacks and took them off. I changed my clothes nearly five times before settling on a nice sweater and jeans. Then I plowed through my shoe zoo to find the perfect pair. I slipped on a pair of sexy flats. Heels just made me look like I was trying too hard. Despite the commotion occurring inside, I needed the exterior to be effortless, composed, and serene.