“I’ll get it myself. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“You’re not disturbing me. Now, sit still,” I insisted as I made my way to the corridor. I filled a plastic cup with water and brought it to her.
“I feel so foolish,” she said as she accepted the cup of cool water.
“No reason to feel foolish. Drink,” I said firmly.
She turned the cup up to her lips and drained it.
I studied her, wondering if she was really okay. “You probably should eat something,” I suggested.
“I was about to leave, and so I’ll pick up something on the way home.”
I glanced at her with concern. “Do you think you’re okay to drive yourself?”
“Yes, I feel better already.” She tossed me a reassuring smile.
“It’s not a problem for me to drive you if you need me to.”
“No, I’ll be fine. Besides, you’re still working.”
“I’ll be finished in a few minutes.” It suddenly dawned on me that her husband might not appreciate his wife being dropped off by a strange man. “Maybe you should call your husband and ask him to pick you up.” As I spoke, my eyes zoomed in on her ring finger, which was bare.
“I’m not married,” she divulged.
“Oh.” I was pleasantly surprised and concluded that she was a progressive single woman who didn’t want to wait around for the perfect man to materialize before having a child. Discovering that she was single gave me hope that there was a remote chance that I could get to know her better.
She accepted my offer and we left her dental practice together. She gave me her address as I helped her into my truck. I was glad that I kept it spotlessly clean. My F-150 was a source of pride. It was my first major purchase in a long time, and it represented my drug-free lifestyle, accountability, and a fresh start in life. For those reasons, I was obsessive about the appearance of my truck, constantly wiping away every little speck of dust.
Ahead, I noticed the McDonald’s arch and asked if she wanted to pick up something from there.
“Yes, that’s fine,” she replied.
We drove through the drive-thru and we both ordered from the menu. When she pulled out a twenty, I refused to take it. “I got this.”
“No! You’ve done so much; I can’t let you pay for my food,” she protested.
“It’s a small thing, Doc. Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay, if you insist,” she said with a cute smile.
Once again, I detected sadness behind her smile. I continued watching her from my peripheral vision and wondered about the source of her pain. She looked so vulnerable, I had to restrain myself from taking her hand and assuring her that everything would be all right.
She opened her bag and began munching on the fries. We drove along in silence for a while and then I inquired about her French accent.
“Are you Haitian?” I asked.
“No, I’m Malagasy.”
“Mala-who?” My brows furrowed in confusion.
“I’m from Madagascar, an island country in the Indian Ocean, off the coast of East Africa. We speak our native tongue, Malagasy, and we also speak French.”
“Your accent is beautiful.”
“Thank you. I came here fifteen years ago to attend the University of Arizona and fell in love with the area…and I made a new life here.”
“It’s easy to love this area of the country. Can’t complain about year-round good weather.”
“Yes, the weather reminded me of home. I couldn’t deal with cold weather or snow. Are you originally from here?”
“No, I’m a newcomer; I’ve only been here six months. I’m originally from Philadelphia, but I don’t miss the cold or snow.”
“Have you visited any of the popular tourist attractions?”
“Not yet. Been too busy working, but I do plan to visit the Grand Canyon one of these days.”
“That’s on my bucket list also. I’m ashamed to say that after all these years I’ve never taken the time to see it.”
Maybe one day we could see it together. “Hopefully, you’ll get around to it.”
“Yes, but no time soon. That’s a trip that I’ll take with my daughter when she’s old enough to appreciate it.”
When we reached her lovely, yet modest, one-story, Pueblo-style home, I offered to give her a ride to work in the morning.
“Thank you, Malik. That’s really nice of you.”
“What time should I pick you up?”
“Is eight o’clock okay?”
“It’s fine. See you then, Dr. Ravony.”
“Please. Call me Sasha.”
“All right, Sasha. See you in the morning.”
I made sure she entered her home safely and then drove off. Tomorrow couldn’t have come soon enough. I looked forward to seeing Sasha again and being in her presence, even if I had to play the role of her personal driver to make it happen.
I was excited to have an opportunity to be with her again. So excited, I had a hard time falling to sleep, but despite my lack of slumber, I was up at the crack of dawn. By six-forty-five, I was sitting in the barber’s chair. I didn’t actually need a cut, but wanting to make a good impression on Sasha, I decided to get a fresh lineup and a professional shave. At eight sharp I studied my reflection in the rearview mirror. I debated whether I should walk up to her door and ring the bell, but I didn’t want to overstep my boundaries. Calling her to announce my arrival was out of the question since I didn’t have her number, so I had no choice but to gently honk the horn.
She came out a few moments later, looking slim and lithe in dark slacks and a buttoned, peach-colored top. Her conservative style of dressing couldn’t hide her sex appeal, and my gaze ran up and down her body as she approached my truck.
“Good morning, Malik. I can’t thank you enough for your kindness.”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
“Yes, it is, and I have something for you.” She reached inside her purse. Thinking she was going to offer me money, I felt my jawline tighten. To my relief, she pulled out a set of tickets instead of money.
“One of my medical suppliers gave me these tickets to the Phoenix Suns game, and I want you to have them. They’re for tomorrow night’s game. Take a buddy or…uh, your significant other,” she added with a shrug.
“I don’t have a significant other. Besides my boss, Ahiga, I haven’t made any friends yet.”
“Maybe Ahiga would like to go,” she suggested.
“Ahiga’s a good guy and all, but I see enough of him on the job and socializing with him would be too much,” I said with a chuckle. I wanted to add that I also saw him a couple evenings a week at recovery meetings, but I kept that information to myself. I wasn’t ashamed of attending NA meetings, but it wasn’t my place to put Ahiga’s business out there.
“Would it be too much to socialize with me?” Sasha smiled mischievously and I wasn’t sure if she was being playful or if she seriously wanted to go to the game with me.
“Do you like basketball?”
“I don’t know anything about the sport, but I’m sure I’ll enjoy your company.”
It wasn’t clear if she was hitting on me or merely being friendly. Maybe she felt sorry for me, a stranger in a strange land. Whatever the case, I was glad she had agreed to attend the game with me.
• • •
Although the Phoenix Suns lost the game, Sasha and I still had a good time. We had such a good time that the basketball game led to a brunch date the following Sunday. Then, on the first Friday of the month, we strolled along Roosevelt Row. Known for its art galleries, impressive murals, award-winning local restaurants, trendy boutiques, and live music, the Roosevelt Row served as a central hub for art and culture in downtown Phoenix.
As we strolled along with other pedestrians, gazing at the plentiful street art, Sasha’s hand found its way into mine, and I stroked her soft skin with my thumb. At one point, we stopped to admire a mural painted by a young Native American
artist. In that moment, genuinely happy and at peace, I raised Sasha’s hand up to my lips.
“Thank you,” I said as I kissed the top of her hand, and allowed my lips to graze against her soft skin.
“Thank you for what?” she asked.
“For this unexpected joy. I haven’t been happy for a long time, and even if you never go out with me again, I’ll be grateful for this night.”
In the midst of a crowded pavement, everyone else faded into the background. Oblivious to the throng of pedestrians, Sasha moved into my arms and raised her lips to mine as if we were in a private space.
Two days later, she and I, along with her daughter, Zoe, enjoyed a tranquil Sunday in the park. Before long, I became a regular household guest, frequently staying overnight. Our lovemaking was always tender, as if we were both afraid to give in to unbridled passion.
“What’s wrong, Malik?” she asked one night as I lay beside her, lazily running a finger over her shoulder and down her arm.
“Nothing’s wrong. I couldn’t be happier.”
“So you say, but your sad eyes tell a different story.”
I shifted my position, surprised that she saw the sorrow that I thought was buried deep inside my heart. Wanting to be forthright, I cleared my throat and began telling her my story. I didn’t leave out anything. I told her about my drug history, my prison stint, and the great loss of my ex-fiancée and my son.
Being in a relationship with Sasha had always felt like a temporary gift from the universe. She was too good to be true. Perhaps that was why I always held back when I made love to her. It sometimes felt as if we were both made of glass that would shatter if we truly let ourselves go.
Prepared to be banished from her bedroom—from her life, I took a deep breath, waiting for the ax to fall. Surprisingly, she took my hand and squeezed it.
“We all have a past, Malik. Zoe’s father wants nothing to do with her or me, and it hurts me to the core.”
“Her father?” I said with bafflement. “You never mentioned him, and I assumed that Zoe was the product of an anonymous sperm donor.”
“No, I was foolish enough to get involved with a married man.”
I gave her a look of surprise.
“Even seemingly smart, professional women make stupid mistakes. He pleaded with me to get an abortion, but I couldn’t do it. I was so offended by his request that I angrily told him that I didn’t need him to help me raise my child. He eagerly took me up on my offer to let him off the hook, and he has never set eyes on Zoe. He pays child support, but that’s it.” Tears filled Sasha’s eyes and she sorrowfully shook her head. “He doesn’t want a relationship with his own daughter. How cruel is that?”
“It’s pretty fucked up,” I replied, marveling at the irony of our backstories.
Our shared sorrow was so intense, it was palpable. Following our primal instincts, we turned to each other for solace. Throwing back the bedcovers, we pounced on each other like animals. It was nothing like our lovemaking in the past that was always careful and tame. We were like savages—thrashing, grunting, and groaning as our sweaty bodies slapped together harshly. For the very first time, we felt unguarded enough to allow our true feelings to show.
CHAPTER 8
I waited until I was sure that my relationship with Sasha was solid before I mentioned it to Ahiga. It didn’t matter whether he approved or not, but I thought he should know. We were sitting next to each other at a recovery meeting when I told him, and I expected him to say something like, “You should only get involved with women who are in recovery…women who understand what you’re going through.” Or “It’s not a good idea to mix business with pleasure.”
I was prepared to tell him to keep his advice to himself, but he surprised me by smiling and nodding his head. “Dr. Ravony is a good woman. Very smart and focused. You two make a nice couple. I’m happy for you, man,” he said with sincerity.
I knew that he was divorced and had a grown daughter and two grandchildren, whom he adored. He never mentioned what had happened with his marriage, but I’d gotten the impression that the demise had a lot to do with his former drug habit. I had no idea if there was a special lady in his life. He wasn’t very talkative about his personal life and I didn’t pry into his business.
• • •
I hadn’t imagined myself becoming adept at changing diapers, strapping in car seats, and certainly hadn’t pictured myself singing lullabies. But as the new man in Sasha’s life, I became a surrogate father to Zoe, and I performed all sorts of parental duties that I’d never done before.
At first, I’d tired not to get too close to Zoe, in case my relationship with her mother was only a fling. But she was such a sweet baby, I was helpless to stop her from stealing my heart.
Sasha and I never had a discussion about me officially moving in, but I was there much more than I was at my own apartment. The cactus plants that I had promised to nurture and maintain had become sickly-looking, a testament to how little time I spent at my place.
My love for Sasha increased with each passing day, and loving her meant loving her daughter, and I put down my guards.
As time went on, I was there for all of Zoe’s important milestones: sitting up, teething, and crawling. And although we became as close as any blood-related father and daughter, it was a big shock when one day while in her mother’s arms, she reached for me, calling out, “Da-Da!”
Soon after she began referring to me as Da-Da, I asked Sasha to marry me, and she said, yes. We both decided that after we were married, I would adopt Zoe and give her my last name.
I called my parents and shared the good news with them. They were both happy that my life was going well and that I had found love. Although they were impressed that Sasha was a dentist with a thriving practice, my mother was not too pleased about me parenting another man’s child.
In an attempt to spare them from heartache, I never told them they were grandparents. It would have been pointless and cruel to make them aware of the existence of a child they could never have physical access to. Due to my failings, they too had been stripped of their legal rights of ever having a relationship with my son. Although I felt that they had a right to know, I simply couldn’t bring myself to hit them with such hurtful news. It wasn’t right to put them through any more trauma than I already had.
“What do you know about being a parent?” my father asked, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. “Do you expect your mother and me to pretend that this strange baby you plan to adopt is our own flesh and blood?”
“That’s up to you, Dad,” I replied with a sigh. In that moment I knew I couldn’t invite my parents to the wedding. It was going to be a small, intimate affair, anyway, and there was no point in giving my dad an opportunity to spoil our special day with his negativity.
Sasha tended to be very sensitive when it came to Zoe, and all I needed was for my father to hurt her feelings with an off-the-cuff comment.
“I hope you and Sasha plan to have a baby of your own very soon,” my mother chimed in. “If you gave your father and me a biological grandchild, it would make it easier for us to accept the other child.”
“The other child’s name is Zoe,” I reminded her, feeling protective toward Zoe and annoyed over my parents’ narrow-mindedness.
Pretending that something came up, I abruptly ended the call. My mother probably would have been amenable to coming to the wedding and meeting Sasha and Zoe, but there was no way my dad would want to be bothered with fawning over a baby that was no kin to him. Most likely they wouldn’t want to make a trip to Arizona until Sasha and I gave them a biological grandchild.
• • •
Sasha’s small family consisted of two elderly aunts who were both too sickly for international travel. Both of her parents had died when she was a child, and on our wedding day, neither of us had any family members in attendance. Ahiga stood as my best man and Sasha’s dental assistant, Caroline, was her maid of honor.
T
here were no other guests.
We only had each other and Zoe.
Sasha looked timeless and elegant in a simple white dress and a floral headband. From the way she kept smiling at me, I gathered that she liked how I looked in my black suit. After we exchanged our vows, we left the chapel and enjoyed an intimate dinner with Ahiga and Caroline. We postponed our honeymoon due to our work obligations. Besides, neither Sasha nor I were willing to leave Zoe behind, not even for a quick weekend getaway or a one-night mini-moon.
The day after the wedding, I replaced the cacti that I’d neglected with brand-new plants. I packed up my meager belongings and officially moved out of my apartment.
But before I drove my belongings to Sasha’s home to begin a new life with her and Zoe, I had to check on Phoenix, one last time. I had come to realize that the gaping hole in my heart would never mend if I continuously watched him, even if only from afar.
Unfortunately, Elle had changed all her social media accounts to private, so I could no longer view the voluminous amount of pictures and videos that she tended to share. But luckily Everett kept his Facebook page public. Spying on Everett’s page and seeing him interacting with my son was a form of self-torture that tended to leave me in a depressed state, but I had to be certain that Phoenix was in good hands before I cut my emotional ties to him.
Sitting in my truck with the engine idling, I pulled up Everett’s Facebook page on my phone. There were mostly photos of sporting events with his colleagues, silly reposts, or stupid GIFs. I kept scrolling through crap until I came across a video of Phoenix taking swimming lessons in the family’s large backyard pool.
Through dedicated online detective work, I discovered that Elle and Everett had bought a home in the suburbs that was equipped with a pool and an outdoor sauna.
“Look at me, Daddy! Watch me swim in the arrow position,” my son called to Everett, flashing a big smile.
Wearing goggles, Phoenix pointed his arms straight over his head and slid into the sparkling blue water. Arms stretched out, face underwater, he kicked his little legs powerfully as he propelled a few feet forward.
Pride swelled my heart as I watched him showing off his swimming skills, but that feeling was quickly followed by pangs of guilt over my absentee-father status.
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