by Nia Arthurs
“Thank you!” I ushered her out of my apartment and returned to the solitude of my kitchen table and my escabeche. I ate in silence. No television. No radio. No music. Just me and the quiet.
Sometimes, if I wasn’t careful, the silence would scream. It would hurl suggestions into my ears, reminding me of how restless I became when I had too much space to think. It would remind me of how cherished I felt when a man was holding me tight. The silence was as much a demon as an imp in a horror movie. It had been a long journey to find peace within the silence, to cast out the voices that rose up when I sat in solitude, nothing but my own thoughts and mistakes as company.
With pride and joy at my progress, I sat at that kitchen table and I ate. I savored the richly flavored soup and when I was done, I left the dish in the sink.
I absolutely abhor housework.
With my mind full of ideas and lines and arcs, I opened the special sketchbook and began to draw. I have a peculiar pattern of drawing, not with articles of clothing in the photo album of my head, but with my perception of a person in mind. I was hesitant to create any type of men’s clothing, but once or twice the strength and aggression of a man had stirred me to create the clean lines and daring fold of a leather jacket sketch. I planned on getting that one sown by a professional for Archie’s birthday. Today, however, my mind attempted to capture the essence of love as shown by Spencer and Melody while Peyton’s words echoed in head. My pencil did its own thing as I meditated on the duo. Their journey was defined by their deep desire to do things the right way, yet their very union was unconventional. Their differences were so obvious, so blatant and bold, but the thread of love wove them together. I sketched til my hand hurt and then I sketched some more until the form of a daring dress took shape on the blank page. After a moment, I stopped and surveyed my work.
Hm, it had potential. And sometimes the potential for greatness is all you need to keep going.
CHAPTER FIVE
Mondays were cleaning days in my shop. That was one of the perks of barely keeping up with your mortgage… you got to be a cleaning lady. I chose Mondays as deep cleansing days because it was usually the slowest one for Mia’s Designs. Most of my clientele were at home celebrating the purchases they’d bought over the weekend or at work, earning the money to buy more. I still switched the sign on the entrance from CLOSED to OPEN, but I really didn’t expect anyone to arrive.
The flow of customers usually picked up in the evenings when people were out of work and kids were out of school. Right now, the boutique was stocked with the latest styles from crop tops to maxi dresses. The clothes’ unique designs and patterns were what usually drew my clientele, along with the fair prices coupled with the generous discounts I applied if you had a Mia’s Designs Club Card. I knew I didn’t have much, but I was kicking to keep my head above water. Someday soon, I knew the boutique would turn in the profits I needed to finally loosen the tightness in my chest and cancel my financial balancing act.
Until then, I just had to grit my teeth and juggle.
This morning, I hooked my smart phone (don’t judge, it was a second hand one) to the store’s stereo and started jamming to Papa San’s latest dancehall tunes. His duet with Lecrae was an edgy hip-hop beat that always inspired booty-shaking. Despite the high volume of the music, my ears distinguished the slam and clack of the door.
Ah that reminded me, I needed to look into a better security system. Mr. Reyes had reminded me more than once that my store required a more reliable protection than a grail door. As soon as Mia’s Designs turned a bigger profit, I’d get on that.
Surprised that a customer had come in before lunch, I turned down the music and smiled as the man came into sight. And then did a double take. The brotha was handsome. Mr. Chocolate was not too tall, about an inch or two above me, but he was solidly built. You could smell the masculinity like a perfume about him. Have I mentioned that his skin tone was even darker than mine?
Yaass, yaass! You go God. You took my ideas and made the man of my dreams. At least on the outside.
“Good morning,” He greeted me. When he spoke his rich baritone voice captured every nerve in body and pulled it tight.
Lord Jesus, it’s a fire.
“Good morning,” I replied, surprised that my vocal chords still functioned, “how can I help you?”
He glanced around the shop, “My mother loves the jewelry you sell here. I thought I’d surprise her with some earrings tonight.”
Eep, he’s handsome and spoils his mama.
“Oh, how lovely,” I gushed, feeling like an idiot but unable to help myself, “Is it your mama’s birthday?” I asked as I led him to the glass displays for my offering of handmade earrings, bracelets, and necklaces. I worked with the local YWCA and bought the jewelry from the young girls to sell in my store. I believed in the entrepreneurial program and was ecstatic to be in a position of assistance.
“Yeah. It is. Her name is Flavia Engells. She turns seventy five tonight.”
The name rang a bell! I knew her as Nana. She attended my parents’ church and always dropped in to Mia’s Designs to browse through my jewelry. She believed in the YWCA girls too.
“You’re Nana’s son?”
He ducked his head and grinned, “Guilty.”
“Your mama’s the sweetest lady. Let me see if I can find something extra-special for her in the back.”
So what if, on my way to the back room, I quickly brushed through my hair with my fingers, I needed to look agreeable for the customer. Nothing else.
I returned to the front with an elegant seashell designed dangling earring.
“She’ll love this one.”
“I’ll take it.” He assured, pulling out his wallet.
Whoa, a man who knows what he wants.
Check and check.
As I boxed up the earrings, Chocolate Man pointed toward the speakers, which were softly playing in the background.
“Papa San, right?”
“Yeah, you know his music?”
“I grew up on it.” Chocolate smiled and winked.
The man had dimples the size of craters. I loved those genetic deformities so much.
“I’m Charles Engells,” He offered his hand to shake.
“Mia Johnson,” I accepted it. His grasp was firm, his hand calloused. He smiled charmingly, prolonging both eye contact and the handshake. Finally, he said,
“Would it be too forward of me to ask for your number?”
“For business or pleasure,” I flirted as if it were second nature, which it was.
Charles lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it.
“Pleasure,” he rumbled, never taking his eyes off mine.
Okay! Okay! I caved immediately. I blame it on my best friend’s advertisement of a relationship. As far as I could see, it looked to me as though my Prince Charming had finally come and there was no way I was missing a chance to find the kind of love that I should have waited for. So I rattled off my cell number and Charles tapped it into his phone. I almost asked him for his number in return, but my aggression in past relationships marked a pattern of extending more effort than necessary. I stayed mute, as I accepted Charles money and rang it up on the register.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mia,” said Charles before he left.
“You too! And please come again.”
Anytime. Day or night. My mind naughtily added.
I clamped my lips shut to keep the sentiments from escaping. With one last surveying look at me, Charles exited the door and returned to his vehicle.
The encounter left me queerly expectant. Throughout the day, my phone rarely left my pocket as I anticipated an incoming text or call from an unknown number. The BK or Before Kingdom Mia would have insisted on getting Charles number for this very purpose. She’d have already texted Charles and invited him over to her apartment. The Kingdom Mia played by a different set of rules, so she sat gloomily in her sofa that night watching the news with her phone a few feet away, s
ilent and dead.
Charles did not call on Monday.
The phone stayed silent Tuesday through Thursday.
By Friday, I gave up and figured that Charles had lost interest or forgotten me. Or maybe, it had been so long since I’d flirted properly with a man that I’d misread his intentions. I gloomily got through the Friday customer rush with some help from Alexi, Melody’s sixteen year old sister whom I paid a buck an hour to help me. Sensing my dark mood as soon as she arrived from school, Alexi stayed out of my way and dealt with most of the customers alone.
My silent phone had thrown me into a funk. I knew that the Kingdom Constitution outlined chastity, but it didn’t ban male-female interactions. I received Charles’ silence as a rejection and it thoroughly bummed me out. I was totally crushing on him.
I was calculating how many cats I’d have by the time I was 40 when I noticed an Acura MDX parked outside. The store had cleared out around six thirty and Alexi had already been picked up and was safely at home. I thought that maybe it was Charles again, but the person was too tall and lean. I recognized that confident lope immediately.
Peyton.
“Hey Peyton,” I greeted as soon as he walked through the door. I hadn’t really talked to Peyton since our escabeche non-date last Sunday. I hadn’t been by the Reyes’ much this week either, although from Melody’s reports Spencer and Peyton were over there almost every day.
“Hi Mia,” he twirled his keys around on his index finger, “You okay,”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, fixing a display case, “If you’re here for Alexi, they pick her up from five o’clock on Fridays.”
“Why would I be here for Alexi?” he returned leaning casually against the dressing room door.
“Why else would you be here?” I countered.
“Maybe I’m here for some earrings,” he touched a dangly feather earring so that it fluttered seamlessly into another pair.
“Doubtful,” I countered, but his comment did make me smile. Hm, since when did being in Peyton’s presence ever induce a smile?
His eyes scanned my expression. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He came directly in front of me, the display case the only barrier between us. Reaching out slowly he touched my forehead, tracing the three grooves formed there, “You have your worried face on.”
Peyton’s concern touched me. I would never have guessed it but Peyton Lowry was an almost bearable human being. Who knew?
I leaned on the glass, “I’m fine. It’s just… have you ever met someone and immediately… connected?”
Peyton was visibly surprised at my transparency, but replied evenly, “What exactly do you mean by ‘connected’?”
“You know,” I rested my chin on fisted hands, “When you look at them, you can see your future.”
“Are you trying to tell me you have psychic abilities, Mia?” Peyton teased.
I leaned forward on tiptoes, stretched over, and shoved him. “No, you doof. You know what I meant.”
Spencer grinned and then sobered so that I knew he was taking me seriously now. “I’m not the most reliable person to ask. I mean, I’m new to the Kingdom of God thing,” I nodded my understanding as he continued, “But I’m fairly sure marriages aren’t built on ‘connections’.”
Whoa. Slow your roll. That was not what I’d expected him to say.
“Who said anything about marriage?” I defended.
“You did. I’m assuming by ‘future’, you were speaking along the lines of commitment?”
“Well, yeah. Though you’re getting ahead of yourself, I do believe that connections have a huge part in having an attraction. An attraction is what leads to marriage.”
He leaned his own elbows on the display case, something I would have scolded any other customer for, and brought our faces inches apart.
“That’s certainly true.”
Once more, the mood shifted. The moment suddenly felt very intimate and I was aware of every fleck of hazel in Peyton’s blue eyes. I honestly lost my train of thought. It was unfair for a man to have such soulful eyes.
“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” I asked frankly, deflecting the tension of the moment.
He drew back but I persisted, finding that I genuinely wanted to know. Girls of every color probably desired to ‘forge a connection’ with Peyton. I’d seen the evidence of it during every one of his visits here. He seemed to lure people in with his open spirit and good looks. Though I was definitely not trekking down the attraction road with Peyton, I found that his genuineness had barreled through my defenses. He almost felt like a friend. Blegh.
“Let’s just say, I’m waiting for the right girl to wake up and see what’s in front of her face.”
I leaned closer, “You want to know what I think?”
He nodded, eyes dropping to my lips.
“I think you flirt with everyone like this because you’re really afraid of commitment.”
His startled gaze flitted to my eyes, but I kept on, “I think there is a girl out there for you who can tame the Mr. Charming vibe you have going on, and I am going to help you find her.”
Peyton shifted away from me.
“What?” he sputtered.
“Yeah,” I grew more excited as the idea took root, “there are plenty of beautiful, educated Belizean women that I could introduce you to.”
“Mia,” Peyton drew out my name, cluing me in to his discomfort. I ignored his unspoken plea as the ideas buzzed through my head.
“This is brilliant! I could totally hook you up with someone from the Gym.”
“Hey, slow down Slugger. I don’t need your help to get a woman,”
I waved away his comment, “Of course not! Plenty of floozies would willingly throw themselves at you in a second. No, I’m talking about an intelligent, beautiful, Godly woman.”
“Mia, this is ridiculous.”
But it was too late, I was already plotting in my mind. I knew the magic formula that every man secretly wanted in a woman. I couldn’t force chemistry but I could introduce him to some options.
“Oh come on, this will be fun.”
“But I already told you, I don’t need your help with this.”
“Okay, fine. Let’s make a deal. I’ll simply introduce you to the one woman I think is perfect for you-”
“Mia,”
“Hear me out,” I interrupted his whining, “And if you don’t like her, I’ll give you a gift certificate or something.”
An eyebrow hiked, “A gift certificate?” he asked, incredulous, “No, if I agree to this crazy idea I need something more… substantial.”
“Name your price,” I said confidently, hoping money wasn’t on the table because I was broke.
“Okay,” he looked around the shop as he pondered, “If you dare me to go on a random date with some mystery woman, I dare you... to go on a date with me.”
“Really?” He looked amused. “Oh, I see what you’re doing. You think that I dislike you so much the thought of going out with you would scare me off. Well, you’re wrong. I agree to this deal.”
“That’s fair.”
“I must warn you though. In my younger years, dating was my hobby. I know a thing or two about this stuff.”
I didn’t mention that most of these relationships didn’t work out, but that was beside the point. I knew how the world of males turned. This challenge would be as easy as eating a whole bag of M&M’s alone.
“Whatever. Are you ready to go?”
“Go? Go where?”
Peyton grinned, “Spencer and Melody wanted to go bowling. They sent me to pick you up. You agreed. This all happened like three days ago.”
“Right!” I slapped my forehead, “I completely forgot. I was supposed to get a call about … something and this totally slipped my mind.”
“It’s okay. Do you need to go home and change or anything?”
“What do you think? Should I go home and change?” I was wearing printed paisley blouse over denim skinny jeans
and practical flats. My makeup could probably stand to be redone but I didn’t feel like exerting all that energy just to be the fourth wheel in the crew.
“I think you look beautiful in anything, so I’m not the right person to ask.”
Peyton’s compliments were always delivered so naturally into the conversation that sometimes I backtracked half-an-hour later and thought, ‘was that a compliment?’. Strangely, I was getting used to his phrases and simply brushed them off.
“You’re right. I think I’m good. Let’s go.”
As he helped me to lock the windows of the shop, I teased, “See, when you finally meet “The One”, I’ll just be the fifth wheel on this relationship truck.”
He grinned, “And that appeals to you?”
I opened my mouth to retort but froze when my phone rang. The screen blared the caller’s name in black and white: UNKNOWN ADDRESS.
CHAPTER SIX
Trying to remain cool so Peyton wouldn’t tell just how nervous I was, I picked up the phone and pressed ACCEPT.
“Hello,” I spoke quietly.
“Mia,” His smooth deep chocolate voice had the same effect on me even through the phone lines.
“Charles,” I almost broke out into a victory dance.
“Hi, I’m sorry I haven’t called until now. It’s been pretty crazy at work,” he explained. I instantly forgave him.
“No problem. I’ve been busy myself.”
Not technically a lie. It would have taken less than four seconds to haul out his phone and type in my number, but I was over that. I was in the process of getting over that.
“I know its last minute, but would you be interested in dinner tomorrow night?”
Yes! Yes! Yes!
“I’m sorry, Charles,” I said instead, five years of dating experience honing my initial enthusiastic response. Guys prefer the chase more than the capture. I had made it a rule long ago to never appear too eager at the get-go. “I have plans tomorrow night.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah I’m,” My mind sought out a valid excuse as my eyes landed on Peyton, “I’m hanging out with a friend.”