Calling the office, that afternoon, she learned that Abdullah Zoe was attending an out of state conference and would not be back until the end of the week. An editor, named Bryan Earl Peachtree, would review her notes and see it to print. Word was left for her to report to Bryan first thing in the morning. The sooner, the better, Margo thought. After all, she was anxious to complete this assignment so that she could move on to something else. Just working on the article brought back a flood of memories…memories she did not want to be reminded of.
That night D’Sandra dropped by to welcome her friend home and to chat. D’Sandra, who had just turned thirty-two a month earlier, was a clinical psychologist. She earned her doctorate degree at Howard University in the late-eighties. After four years of practicing in the DC area, she began to long for the sandy beaches of Florida. Then it happened. One day she was entertaining the thought of returning to her hometown of St. Augustine and by the end of the month she had moved back. A month later she befriended Margo at a professional woman’s seminar in Daytona Beach. Seven years later they remained the best of friends.
Fifteen minutes into her visit, the two decided they had a taste for steamed oysters, along with a couple of Zimas to chase them down, so they headed north for Jacksonville. Less than an hour later they arrived at the Jacksonville Landing, a horseshoe shaped multi-level riverfront complex that housed clothing stores, gift shops, and eateries. There was a wide courtyard which faced the St Johns River. The two had dinner and quiet conversation. The restaurant was Hooters, the crowd noisy, the ‘oldies’ music loud, the aroma of steamed and fried food deliciously inviting.
“So, you were saying you had the time of your life,” D’Sandra remarked, while shucking an oyster.
“Yeah, right up to the point where I grew attached to my subject,” Margo replied, sipping bubbly cold Zima from her frosted glass.
“And he’s fallen for you.”
“Jumped right in, he did…head first,” she said, gripping a hot oyster shell in the towel she held in her hand.
“From what you’ve told me on the ride up, it sounds like you two have a lot in common. So why the long face?”
Looking up into her friend’s eyes, Margo sat her shucking knife down and said, dryly, “It could be that I miss him so, and I do, but that’s only the half of it. You see, there’s this old flame that just won’t go away. I think she’s a real loony case. Surprisingly, she’s financially well off, thanks to a fitness business she runs. But lately she’s been showing up at his concerts on a regular basis. Just drops in unannounced. Girlfriend, I couldn’t take it anymore.”
With an incredulous look, D’Sandra said, “You mean, Ms. Thang just drops in, just like that?”
“Just like that,” she echoed, dipping a succulent looking mollusk in a small bowl of hot seasoned butter sauce.
“Well, what does your friend have to say about that?” D’Sandra asked, chewing on a couple of golden brown crinkled fries.
“He insists she doesn’t mean anything to him. And I believe him,” she answered, picking up her drink.
“Well, you’re definitely nobody’s fool,” D’Sandra replied thoughtfully. “I just don’t understand why she’s hanging around him. I mean, is the guy that prodigious in bed?”
With a trace of a smile, a weary Margo said, “I really don’t know.”
“What? You mean you don’t know?” D’Sandra quipped.
“I came close to finding out a few times, but something always seems to come between us whenever we are alone and about to…well you know.”
“…I see,” a pensive D’Sandra replied.
“Look, you’re the shrink,” Margo said, after giving the matter some thought. “What do you think of my predicament?”
“Well, I’m not sure I have enough information to help you. But I would like to start out by saying that it sounds as if there’s definitely an attraction between you two but whether it is love or not, that’s hard for me to distinguish at this time,” she replied, gesturing as she spoke.
“So you’re saying it may just be a strong attraction.”
“That’s quite possible,” D’Sandra returned. “I mean, you two barely know each other.”
“Well, that’s true,” Margo murmured.
“Then, again, you could really be in love with him. It happens all of the time.”
Margo sighed, then uttered, “Right now, what I do know is that I feel so awful, just down right lousy having left him like that, D’Sandra. I didn’t even say goodbye.”
“I know. Here have another drink,” her friend urged, pouring more Zima into Margo’s glass. “I’m sure everything will turn out alright between you two. Good thing he’s performing here next week. It is next week?”
Bringing the rim of the frosted glass to her lips, Margo paused to say, “Yes. And I hope you’re right about everything turning out alright.” With that, she gulped down the remaining portion of her drink then sat the glass down. “Tell me, D’Sandra, how are things with you and this Raymond guy?”
“Oh, just wonderful, luv!” she said excitedly. “We spent last week-end in Vero Beach, but I told you that already. Gal, I was in 7th heaven, girl!”
“I bet you were,” Margo grinned. “You say he’s a dentist?”
“Yes! Did I tell you he cleaned my teeth…and for free,” D’Sandra replied.
“He just ought to have and a lot more for a weekend in Vero Beach with you,” Margo chuckled.
D’Sandra grinned, then added, “You know, it’s been years since I’ve had this much fun. Maybe I’ll finally get around to tying the knot.”
“I didn’t know it was that serious.”
“It’s not, but it looks promising,” D’Sandra returned, as she poured more ketchup on her curly fries.
Chasing another oyster down with a swallow of Zima, Margo said, “Well, I’m happy for you. I really am. I know how lonely it can get at times.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“Tell me,” Margo muttered around a mouthful of crackers, “why haven’t you ever tied the knot in the past?”
D’Sandra stared fixedly for a moment, as if reviewing a past life, then said, “I came close once but it didn’t work out. We were just too much alike to be anything more than friends. And the others, well, most men seem apprehensive about me once they find out that I am a clinical psychologist. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know. But I seem to attract the same type of men. I’m definitely not a vicarious learner.”
“Vicarious learner?” Margo echoed.
“In layman’s terms,” D’Sandra said, brushing back a curl with her hand. “A vicarious learner learns from the mistakes of others and by doing so, spares him or herself a lot of grief. Now me, I seem to make the same mistakes over and over again when it comes to men and the type I’m attracted to. But with Raymond, it looks as though I may finally break that cycle.”
A skimpily clad southern speaking waitress interrupted. “Howdy! Would y’all like another drink or perhaps some dee-sert?”
“No thank you,” Margo replied, wiping her face with a napkin. “We’re leaving soon.”
“Will this be together or separate?”
“Together,” D’Sandra answered, then turning to Margo relayed, “I’m treating.”
“Thank you!” she replied.
The waitress wrote a receipt, collected their empty plates, and whirled off.
“I guess we ought to be leaving. I’m full and beginning to feel a little tipsy. How are you feeling?” D’Sandra asked thoughtfully.
“Kind’a horny from eating all those damned oysters. That’s how I feel,” she chuckled, slurring her words, perhaps being on the mark about having too much Zima to drink.
The two laughed.
“Again, thanks for the treat.”
“You’re more than welcomed.”
Rising, the two left tips and departed.
That night Margo sat quietly relaxed in her Roman bathtub completely engulfed in warm soothing bu
bble bath water. The fragrance of the lather was jasmine. Soft music played from the overhead speakers which were recessed into the ceiling. But she was too lost in her thoughts to notice the music. Though she normally showered, she enjoyed taking periodic bubble baths. It was her way of relaxing at the end of a long tension-filled day. It also gave her a rare opportunity to contemplate, and without interruption. For the second consecutive night her thoughts were on Ma’Kentu and how much she missed him, just listening to him play. Add to this, the ton of guilt she carried on her shoulders because of the way she left him. It just kept eating at her.
Stepping out of the tub, she grabbed a bottle of shampoo and walked over to her stand-alone shower stall. After wetting her hair, she poured shampoo into her free hand and began to rub it in her hair. With her hair now covered in suds, she massaged the shampoo deeper into her scalp. Minutes later, she positioned the showerhead, adjusted the water temperature, and began rinsing her hair out. Like long streams of quick moving lava, the suds inched their way down her warm delicate neck, down further over her sculptured back, and over her firm bronze buttocks, down along her curvaceous thighs and calves until they dissipated into the drain.
Afterwards, she turned the faucet off, grabbed a large thick towel, and dried herself. Once in the bedroom, she sat under the hair dryer and thumbed through a woman’s fashion magazine. A short while later, she placed the magazine aside and pondered why Ma’Kentu had not called her. After thinking about it, she understood why he hadn’t.
Later she climbed onto her bed and reached for her phone. She wanted to call D’Sandra and talk with her briefly. There was something on her mind she wanted to ask her friend.
“Hey, it’s me,” Margo spoke softly into the phone. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No, I’m still up,” D’Sandra’s voice replied. “Matter-of-fact, I just got off the phone with Raymond.”
“Must be nice! How’s he doing?”
“He’s fine. He just wanted to know if I was available tomorrow night for dinner.”
“Go for it, luv,” Margo said.
“I am!” D’Sandra continued. “The man is a godsend. He had a dozen roses delivered to my office today. Gal, talk about being on a natural high.”
“A dozen roses!” Margo echoed. “I’m so happy for you, D’Sandra.”
“Thanks, sugga,” D’Sandra replied, then added, with concern in her voice, “Couldn’t get to sleep, I gather,”
“Naah, been too busy thinking about what I did,” she said rolling onto her back.
“Still feeling guilty and you want to know what to do, am I right?”
“Am I that easy to read?” Margo said reproachfully.
“Not really. It’s just that I’ve been where you are now.”
Glancing up at the ceiling, she entwined her little pinkie in the phone cord and said, “Tell me, what should I do? I don’t want to lose this man.”
“Well, it all depends.”
“I’m listening.”
“It depends on whether you want my personal opinion or my professional one.”
“Hell, I want them both,” Margo said wryly. “How much you’re charging?”
D’Sandra laughed. “Look, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You say you’re heading up to Jacksonville tomorrow morning, right?”
“Yes, I have to be up there around nine.”
“What time will you be back in this area?”
“Between 12:45 and 1:00 in the afternoon.”
“Well, why don’t we get together for lunch. I’m taking off tomorrow. We can talk then, okay?”
“I’m game,” Margo said, running her free hand through her hair.
“Good! How about meeting me at Red Lobster on US 1 and County Road 312 right here in St. Augustine, around one?”
“That’ll work,” Margo said agreeably, rising up. “I‘ll be there, give or take ten minutes.”
“Great! I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Drive carefully, sweetie.”
“Okay, luv. Bye.”
Chuck Lambert could see a momentary enraged look in Margo’s eyes before she spotted him nearby. It surprised him, being that he was unaccustomed to seeing her without a smile. It was unlike her. Walking over to her, his first instinct was to comfort her, though he was uncertain of the problem. The two hugged and exchanged greetings.
“Everything alright?” he asked her. “If not, care to share it with a friend?”
Unable to disguise her frustration, Margo fumed, “It’s that damn Bryan Peachtree!”
“Don’t tell me, he’s reworked your article. Am I right?”
“Bingo!” she almost snapped back. “Hell, my article is supposed to be primarily about a man and his music, not about a man and his politics.”
“I see,” Chuck replied, rubbing his chin.
“If only Zoe was here,” she said abruptly. “Oh, how could he, that Bryan?”
“I know the feeling. Peachtree’s always butchering someone else’s work,” Chuck added. “And he’s stubborn as a mule. He rarely goes back on a decision he’s already made.”
“Well, the next time I freelance around here, I’m going to ensure that my contract specifically excludes Peachtree from having any editorial role in my assignments.”
“Now, that’s an idea,” Chuck uttered back. “Just write the s.o.b. out of the equation.”
For the first time, her smile was genuine. Not that it lasted that long. Wanting to change the subject, she looked up at him and said, “Well, what’s going on with you, around here?”
“Not much of anything for the next week, at least. I’m heading up to DC to attend a family wedding. My cousin, who is a detective up there, is tying the knot, and for the third time.”
“That’s interesting. I was just up in DC a couple of days ago.”
“Well, it’s been a couple of months since I visited there last, but I still maintain my contacts. You know me.”
“Speaking of contacts, I need to ask you a very personal favor.”
“Sure! Anything.”
“See what you can find on a woman named Charlotte Chase. She’s the founder of an aerobics business up there. Suppose to be doing well with it. Go back at least two years, for me. Okay?”
“Charlotte Chase. You got it! I’ll Google her tonight”
“Thanks!”
“Don’t worry. I won’t let you down,” he replied. Extending his arms, he gave Margo a huge bear hug, advised her not to fret too much about Peachtree, and departed.
Margo spotted D’Sandra’s candy apple red sports utility parked near the entrance of the Red Lobster restaurant. Due to heavy traffic and an overturned truck on I-95 she was slightly behind schedule. As she approached the glass tinted sports utility, D’Sandra exited. The two friends embraced. “How long have you been waiting?” Margo asked, to which D’Sandra replied, “Just pulled up,” then with a wide smile spreading across her face, said, “God, I love that outfit, gal,” referring to Margo’s deep teal colored knitted top with matching leggings. “Thank you. I got it on sale while in Norfolk.”
“Gal, I wished you would have bought one for me while you were at it,” she chuckled, as they headed inside the restaurant. “It’s tuff, gal. I tell you, I’m so jealous.”
The two were seated and orders taken.
“Let’s get down to business, personal business that is,” D’Sandra began with a sense of humor. “First of all, you told me that you felt something special for this man, Ma’Kentu. But you also said that you’re not sure about taking this relationship beyond the friendship level. Do I have it right?”
“That about sums it up.”
“Well, I’m going to do my best to help you out.”
“That’s why I’m here, to seek your advice,” Margo replied, looking up into her friend’s slightly oval, yet very feminine face. D’Sandra’s makeup was perfect, as usual, she noticed.
“Let me say this first,” her friend said, leaning forward. “You need to really search your heart and s
oul and be truly honest with yourself about your feelings for this man. Remember, honesty starts with self.”
Margo nodded, saying, “Well, I’ve given it a lot of thought. What I feel is unlike anything I’ve felt in a long while. Does that help you any? I do know it’s serious!”
“Umm,” D’Sandra murmured, jotting something down on a small piece of paper. “It’s serious and it’s something you haven’t felt in a while.”
“That’s right. I can also say that I think about him first thing when I wake up in the morning and every other minute after that throughout my day and he is the last thought I have on my mind when I lay down to sleep. I know he makes me feel wonderful and on top of the world whenever I’m around him.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“I’m sure.”
“How sure?”
“Oh, 99% sure”
“Okaay,” D’Sandra said, pausing to sip at her glass of water. “How often do you think he should be thinking about you throughout his day?”
“Probably several times a minute.”
“I see. It’s worse than I thought,” she nodded. “But that’s good!”
“Good?”
“Yes. You know how long I’ve been at you about getting out and meeting men.”
“So what do I do now?” Margo asked, sipping at her glass of water.
“Well, you asked for it and here it is,” D’Sandra said. “In my opinion on the surface you carry on as if you two are nothing more than good friends. But in your heart, what you feel for this man goes far beyond friendship. Margo, you’re in love with this man.”
Margo nodded slightly and murmured, “You really think so.”
“Look, falling in love is not a bad thing. Like anything worthwhile, it’s a work in progress, my dear. It’s like a rapid stream, hard to harness, hard to control, yet would you really want to set out to control such a force. Or could you even?
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