by Candice Dow
He picked up and I said, “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“I’m at Reggie’s.”
“I know. You sent me a text.”
I’d literally been in the daze after I left Devin, I didn’t remember. “Well, we had too much to drink and I think I’m going to stay here.”
“Okay.”
“Not unless you want to come get me.”
“It seems like you should be more responsible than to drink so much that you can’t drive.”
“Well, I did, so—”
“I hope that’s not what you’re using as a coping mechanism.”
I frowned at the phone and wanted to burst out laughing, but I knew that would infuriate him more. He clearly needed to find a coping mechanism, because it felt like a stranger was in my house and he was getting on my damn nerves. He needed an outlet so he could stop taking his frustration out on me. I decided to kill him with kindness. I said, “I know, baby. You’re right. I love you.”
“Thank you.”
My eyes shifted. I stuttered momentarily. Then I recalled the advice he always shared with others. That you won’t always feel love for your partner, and for the sake of not lying to them, don’t say I love you, too if that’s not what you feel at the moment. I mouthed, “Thank you.”
Maybe the expensive wine I was drinking had some miracle ingredients, because it just rolled off me. Or was it the thought of Devin’s strong arm around my shoulder that made his silent treatment not so effective?
“Kenneth, you’re welcome. See you tomorrow.”
I held my cell phone in my hand, still feeling the sting of his words or lack thereof. My recent calls lit up the screen after the call ended. DP was in the list and I wished I could call him. I checked the time and was certain that he was home relaxing with his wife. I couldn’t resist the urge, so I sent him a text message: IT WAS SO GOOD TO SEE YOU TODAY.
17
DEVIN
Taylor and I rested in bed, watching Law & Order: SVU, when my cell phone buzzed on the nightstand. She sucked her teeth and I knew it was Curtis, reminding me of the nine o’clock meeting with the executive board for the Girl Power seminar. Finally, Taylor said, “Go ahead and get it. I know you want to.”
“Nah, I’m cool.”
“No, go ahead. I’m used to it. My new husband is now married to his campaign manager.”
Every muscle in her body tightened as I stroked her shoulders. I knew she had an attitude and I thought we’d gotten past this, but obviously not. I huffed, “Taylor, look, I really don’t need your sarcasm.”
She turned her back to me. “And I really don’t need your phone blowing up all evening long.”
“So, why don’t you get involved in the campaign? That way we’ll be in this together.”
She sat up. “Devin, I told you that I’ll support you, but this is not my dream. It’s yours. I don’t feel like running around doing a bunch of damn community service and just being plain old phony.”
She spoke with emphasis, like she wholeheartedly was against my mission and against me. I said, “Damn.”
There was nothing left for me to say. I leaned over to grab my phone and damn near dropped it when I saw C WINSTON. I got out of bed and headed for the guest room. When I lay down on the bed, I stared at her message, trying to read between the lines. I wondered where she was and if she was somewhere in her house or her husband was somewhere around. After turning the television on, I texted her back: I WOULD LOVE TO SEE YOU AGAIN.
I sat there for nearly ten minutes, hoping for a response, and nothing. Just as I dozed off, the phone buzzed again. She responded: WHEN.
I thought before responding. Then I wrote what I felt: TOMORROW.
HIT ME TOMORROW AND LET ME KNOW.
I was glad that Taylor had left me alone, because I dozed off with a smile on my face. Although I wasn’t totally sure where we were headed, all I knew was that I wanted more of whatever time she had.
The iHome speaker in my bedroom went off around seven-thirty as usual. Taylor let the music play for a while before getting out of bed. I lay still, staring out the window and planning a date with Clark in my mind, when Taylor swung the guest door open.
“Devin, I’m sorry.”
With my back to her I said, “Taylor, sorry is an action word.”
She climbed in the bed and scooted her naked body close to me. “I know.”
I turned to face her and she wrapped her leg around mine. Her soft hands stroked my face. “Baby, I know that I can be spoiled sometimes, but I don’t mean to upset you.”
I leaned in and stuck my tongue down her throat, cupping the back of her head and pushing my body against hers. I reached down to touch her and she drenched my fingers. My penis stiffened. It turned me on that she was always ready. I plunged my fingers in and out of her. “Get on top,” I whispered in her ear.
She didn’t hesitate to climb on me and lower her vagina onto my pole. Slushy sounds came from her as she bounced on me. I pulled her close to me. Her breasts rested on me as she whispered in my ear, “I love the way you fuck me, Devin.”
I held her hips and thrust myself deep inside of her. She moaned louder and louder with every stroke. “You like that.”
She bit on my neck. “Yeah, baby. I like that.”
I flipped her over. As she lay on her back, I pushed her legs over my shoulders to get a better angle. Deep and strong, I made love to my wife and released everything inside of her. Sweat poured from me and she wiped my face gently. My muscles relaxed and I lay on her. We held each other, and she stroked my back.
“Devin, I’ll try to be more understanding.”
I didn’t respond, because she’d tricked me with that already. She knew it sounded good, but I wasn’t convinced that Taylor wanted to be understanding. So to avoid ruining the moment, I stroked her face. We lay silently for seconds before my phone buzzed. She glanced over at it, and I prayed she didn’t check it. Things were good this morning. The last thing she needed to see was an inappropriate message from C Winston.
I said, “Are you going to work, baby?”
“Yes, Devin. I go to work every day.”
I rolled off of her and prayed she’d get up before me. Instead, she folded a pillow behind her head, and looked at me. “Did you hear what I said?”
“About what.”
“I’m going to try to be more understanding.”
I looked at the clock and realized I needed to be out of the house in thirty minutes. I wasn’t ready to get into it with her. So I sat up on the side of the bed. “Okay, baby. I appreciate that.”
I grabbed my phone and walked out of the room. When I touched the screen, I was slightly disappointed to discover that the new text message was from Curtis, not Clark. After I showered, I cleared the log of previous messages and texted her: WHAT TIME ARE YOU AVAILABLE TO MEET?
When I came out of the bathroom, I put my phone on the charger, since it hadn’t charged all night. Just as I walked into my closet, Taylor entered the room. She was bubbly and excited. “Guess what?”
“What?”
“I think I’m going to stay home today.”
“I thought you went to work every day.”
I put on a crisp white shirt and pulled a black cardigan sweater over my head. I wasn’t going to come home twice with makeup on my shirt. As I stepped into my jeans, I heard my cell phone buzz. My heart dropped to my feet when I walked out of the closet and Taylor had my phone in her hand. She was still smiling, so she couldn’t be mad. She said, “Here. Curtis said, ‘Same time, same place.’?”
There was no way Curtis could have responded like that. It was Clark, and she probably wasn’t sure if C Winston was Curtis. I almost didn’t want to take the phone from her when she handed it to me. It bothered me that I was being sneaky and she didn’t have a clue, but right there in front of her I responded: ok.
18
CLARK
Kenneth and I had probably spent no more than two nights apa
rt my entire marriage, but when I woke up in the frilly teenager room decorated for Morgan, I felt young and happy. I headed into the Jack ’n’ Jill bathroom that connected Morgan’s room to Little Reggie’s room. I grabbed a washcloth from the freshly folded towels in the linen closet. Standing in front of the mirror, I washed my face, but the smile just wouldn’t go away. When I walked down the stairs, my mother, wearing a peach and black housecoat, was preparing a pot of oatmeal. She was the only person I knew that didn’t put it in the microwave. I grabbed a couple of bowls from the cabinet. We chatted and ate breakfast. Then I reluctantly headed home.
I decided to stop at the group home first. I wanted to take care of business in the morning and have the entire afternoon at home to primp and get prepared to see Devin again. I hadn’t had the chance to speak to Ms. Teeny since I left Devin. I knew she was dying to know. I called her on her cell phone before I just popped up, since it was relatively early for me to be coming in. When I walked into the house, some of the girls in the GED program were there, lounging on the couch.
“Hey, Ms. Clark,” one of the girls said.
Tiffany, another girl, said, “Ms. Clark, why your hair all over your head? I’ain never seen you look like that.”
“Mind your business, Ms. Tiffany.”
Ms. Teeny walked out of her office. “Girl,” she sang.
I hugged her. “Hey, Ms. Teeny.”
“You look real happy this morning. Let’s get some coffee.”
As we walked in the kitchen, she said, “And I know you ain’t go lurking after just seeing him once.”
I pushed her and she laughed. “Was it good?”
“Ms. Teeny, I didn’t have sex with him.”
“You look real loose like you had sex. I know you didn’t get none from Kenny.” She rolled her little slanted eyes. “Plus, you look like you stayed out all night. What’s up with that?”
“I stayed over at Reggie’s house.”
“Tell Reggie he and I can have a one-night stand any day.”
“Ms. Teeny, you can’t do anything with Reggie.”
“You must not know ’bout me,” she huffed. “So what about you? What happened?”
“When I saw him, it was like…”
She pumped her arms in the air and yanked my arm. “It was like whoa.”
“No, Teeny. It was more like we were still connected. Real connected.”
“That big-head nigga better stop acting crazy before you be hangin’ out with Davon.”
I smiled. “Devin, Ms. Teeny. His name is Devin.”
“That’s what I said. So what did y’all talk about?”
“We talked about where we went wrong. And I told him about the abortion. He was kind of upset. I broke down and started crying.” I laughed. “I don’t know what got into me.”
“Girl. You so damn emotional lately.”
“I know. What’s up with that?”
“So are you going to see him again or what?”
“I wasn’t at first, but last night I was at Reggie’s and I called Kenneth to tell him that I might stay the night. He was so nonchalant. It just feels like he doesn’t even like me right now for something I have no control over.”
She twirled her neck and let her head dangle a little. “Girl, I keep telling you. Gon’ and get your freak on. He’ll come around. And see the fling came to you. You didn’t even have to go looking for it.”
“Ms. Teeny, you ain’t right.”
“Sometimes men ain’t right, either. So you got to step out, and when you do, they step up. It’s a proven fact. The key is not to get caught.”
“I don’t know, Teeny. I still have feelings for him and I’m not sure it would be as simple as stepping out.”
“He’s married. All y’all can do is step out and at least you don’t have to get to know a stranger. Girl, you just got ding-ding served to you on a platter. You better hop on it.”
I laughed. “You are so crazy.”
“No, you’re going to be crazy if you stay in that house with a man who won’t talk. He ain’t having sex. He’s so positive and holier-than-thou, with his nose up in the air. You’re going to be the crazy one. But if you go get your freak on, trust me, it will make your home so peaceful.”
“How do you know?”
“Look, this experiment is tried and true.”
We laughed like teenagers until one of the girls came into the kitchen. She looked at us suspiciously, and we returned her look and started laughing again. Teeny grabbed my hand. “Clark, baby girl, you need this.”
She couldn’t possibly fully understand what I felt for Devin. There was no way she would believe that as good a man as Kenneth was, I never loved him the way I loved Devin. That was validated in the way Devin captivated me when I saw him. He was even finer and smoother and everything he told me he would be. I could imagine us together. He was never a fling to me. All I knew was that I couldn’t wait to see him today, and it was the only thing on my mind. Teeny’s advice was dangerous, because she was encouraging me to do something that could turn my world upside down.
19
DEVIN
I rolled up beside Curtis, as he sat in his BMW 540 in the parking lot of the high school where we were hosting the mentoring conference. He was studiously going over his notes, and I beeped the horn. He looked up and smiled, and offered me his corny salute. I shook my head.
When I opened the car door, he put his finger up. I raised my hands, telling him to take his time. I pulled my black knitted hat down on my ears and blew warm air into my fists. After a few more seconds of freezing my ass off, I walked into the supersized school. This was the newest school in the county and cost nearly five million dollars to build. I looked around in awe. It was what politics was all about for me. Change. Progression. Innovation. As I stood in the school’s atrium, spinning in a slow circle, I smiled. Curtis rushed in during my daydream. And the moment he said, “Hey, man…,” a security guard popped up.
“Can I help you gentlemen?”
“We’re here to meet Dr. Woods and Mrs. Dillon about the Girl Power conference we’re having here. This is Devin Patterson. Democratic candidate. District Four. U.S. Congress,” Curtis rambled.
He fumbled through his laptop bag, while I reached out to shake the young man’s hand. Curtis clutched his bag and clumsily handed him a trifold brochure about me and my campaign. His neck snapped back, somewhat like he could give a damn. He nodded. “A’ight then. Let me guide you down to the office.”
We’d obviously walked into the wrong side of the building, because it felt like we walked nearly a mile before we saw the large, glass-enclosed front office. A couple of committee members sat patiently in the waiting area. I entered and put my hand on my chest apologetically. “It’s not my fault. I was waiting for Mr. Perfection,” I said, referring to Curtis.
He snickered and reached out to shake the hand of a young lady as Mrs. Shawna Dillon introduced her. Then Mrs. Dillon reached for a hug from me. She always embraced me endearingly, like she wanted me to make a move on her. She always leaned her soft mocha cheek into mine and puckered up her thick lips to kiss the air. When I backed away from her, she gave me that same seductive wink. I smiled and reached out to shake the other young lady’s hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
“Michelle. Michelle Mason,” she said stiffly, smiling tightly with her thin lips.
“Okay, M & M.”
She chuckled some, and Mrs. Dillon shook her head. “Didn’t I tell you? He’s a trip.”
Dr. Woods came out of the office with a loud, infectious laughter, “Hey, gentlemen. Ladies. Missssussss Dillon.”
It was funny that he always accentuated Mrs. Dillon’s marital status. Maybe she gave him that flirtatious vibe, too. It may have been his way to remind himself that she belonged to someone else. The fact that she was shaped like a damn plump pear didn’t help her case. Even as grown-ass, happily married men, when Mrs. Dillon sashayed ahead of us in the direction of the con
ference room, all eyes shifted to her tight-fitting black skirt. But, of course, we all quickly regained our composure.
We sat around a conference table, and Mrs. Dillon handed out the meeting agendas. “I e-mailed you guys minutes from the last meeting,” she said, as she rested her hand on my shoulder.
Doing business with this chick was risky business. It was clear that I needed to handle this firecracker with care. She had the potential to blow my fingers off. The fire inside her radiated from the palms of her hands. Shortly after the meeting commenced, she made a major announcement. DC’s own Amerie would be the keynote speaker for the event. We needed to re-print flyers and change some of the promotional material. All the workshops were outlined and the speakers were booked. There would be a hair and fashion show. I felt like I was just the face of this mentoring extravaganza, because Mrs. Dillon had it all together.
It was more than either me or Curtis originally imagined when he came up with the idea. Dr. Woods took us on the tour of the section of the school where we’d have the conference. We had room for over a thousand girls to attend. Multiple rooms for the workshops. All Mrs. Dillon needed was the room numbers and a map of the area. She’d already come up with the workshop schedule and had partitioned the girls off by age and registration date. We were basically spectators in the whole event, because she’d tied up every loose string. Curtis and I were pretty much handling the funding. I did have one request. There was a workshop titled The Battle: Beauty vs. Brains. It was a subject I thought Taylor could help the girls with, considering she had both, and the girls could probably connect with her personality. I asked Mrs. Dillon if she could pencil my wife in as one of the panelist. She frowned unconsciously, but agreed. Her reaction didn’t give me a comfortable feeling, but I shrugged it off.
Finally, when we wrapped up, Mrs. Dillon gave her affectionate embraces before putting on her long beige trench coat. She and Michelle left, leaving the men to discuss how well everything was panning out. Dr. Woods gave us a head nod. “Man, the conference is going to be big. We’ll have to do this every year. Win or lose.”