Until

by Timmothy B. Mccann

  DLASTROMEO: No, no. I think I get the picture.

  DELTADREAM: Seriously. I feel fortunate to have him in my life right now.

  DLASTROMEO: That’s important and I’m glad to hear it. You always hear about people who are not happy with their relationship. I must say that I don’t have a person in my life like that at this time and I really miss it. I just lost someone very dear and there is definitely a void there.

  DELTADREAM: What do you miss the most about being in a relationship?

  DLASTROMEO: I miss having someone in my life who knows how to make me smile. Sounds simple, huh? I’m not looking for fireworks. I’m not looking for magic. At this point in my life, a nice body is great. A touch would be nice as well. But to have someone who could find my smile. I can’t think of words to describe how that would feel.

  DELTADREAM: I can relate to it. I was single (not in a relationship) for the past five years. It seemed I worked my butt off to be the best, and then I looked around at my material possessions and realized I had no one to share them with, and I confess, it hurt.

  DLASTROMEO: Damn, love. You making me feel bad. LOL Sounds too much like me.

  DELTADREAM: I’m sorry. That’s not my intention. I just want you to know that she’s out there somewhere.

  DLASTROMEO: Thank you. So tell me. What does this prince of yours do to make you smile?

  DELTADREAM: It’ll only make you feel worse. Let’s not go there. LOL

  DLASTROMEO: I agree . . . but give me a shot anyway.

  DELTADREAM: Well, where do I start? A couple of weeks ago I was working on this huge project at work. I worked on it for more than two years in fact. Well. the results from my work were positive and when I called him to tell him about it. he had this incredible date planned for me. First he invited me to his house and welcomed me with seventeen yellow long-stemmed roses. One for each week we had been a couple.

  DLASTROMEO: Now that was suave. You like yellow roses, huh?

  DELTADREAM: Are you kidding? They’re my favorite. No offense, but a man who gives cop-out red roses knows nothing about romance or the meaning of flowers.

  DLASTROMEO: Interesting.

  DELTADREAM: After that he served my favorite dinner, played my favorite CD softly (which I did not even know he knew). and prepared this bath for me. Then, well let’s say I am a lady so we’ll leave the rest to your imagination.

  DLASTROMEO: Damn. A brother like that might make me change my screen name.

  DELTADREAM: LOL. Maybe you are DLastRomeo . . . on-line.

  Chapter 6

  “Baby? Are you coming to bed?”

  “Oh, sweetie” Betty called to Evander, and turned down the classical music in her home office. “I didn’t know you were awake. Let me sign off.”

  “No, don’t. Just finish what you’re doing and if I’m asleep when you come to bed, wake me up, okay?”

  “Are you sure? I don’t mind,” she said as she typed words onto the screen of her monitor in the darkened room. “I’m just chatting.”

  “Positive,” he said with a yawn. “Just wake me.”

  “Okay. I’ll be in there in a minute,” she replied as she continued to type to her new acquaintance.

  DELTADREAM: I work long hours. Sometimes thirteen-hour days, and when I come home, I always get a phone call from him. And when he asks how my day has been, you know what? He really wants to know.

  DLASTROMEO: I didn’t want to say it, because I don’t like talking about it, but I lost my lady a month ago.

  DELTADREAM: I remember you said that earlier. Did she just decide to leave one day? Was there another guy? Or did you get caught with your hand in the cookie jar, Romeo? Listen to me, all up in your business.

  DLASTROMEO: No, that’s okay. I guess I started the personal questions anyway. For some reason it’s easier to talk to you about this, with this computer screen between us, than it is to talk to friends. They just say I should get over it. But anyway . . . she died last month.

  DELTADREAM: Oh I’m so sorry. I had no idea.

  DLASTROMEO: We’d dated three years, but we weren’t engaged or anything. In fact the last few months of our relationship were rough. But we stayed together. The night before she died she got nasty with me. I mean unusually nasty, and to this day I have no idea as to why. She started crying and even pulled out one of the tubes and tried to yell at me, but she was too weak. She told me never to come to the hospital again, so eventually I went downstairs and paced in the MICU waiting room for about three or four hours. I didn’t want to go back up to the room, but I couldn’t leave. So I sat on the couch and fell asleep. About one o’clock that morning, I went back up to see her thinking she would be asleep, but the nurse would not allow me back in the ward.

  DELTADREAM: That’s so sad. Once again, I’m sorry. I had no idea.

  DLASTROMEO: Please. Don’t be. Really that’s not why I told you what happened, and as I read what I just typed I’m sorry I got so deep so fast. I’ve never shared that with anyone, but I just wanted to say. so often I don’t think we value love. I don’t think we ever really sit back and just enjoy the moment. Now I do. Now I can see how I took her love for granted at times, and although the pain of doing that does not hurt as much as physically losing her . . . it’s running a close second.

  DELTADREAM: You are in my prayers, Romeo.

  DLASTROMEO: Thanks, love.

  Love? Betty thought. How sweet.

  DELTADREAM: Oh yeah. I guess I should tell you. I am only DeltaDream on-line. I rarely tell anyone on the Net my name, but you seem safe enough. My real name is Betty. I don’t believe I got yours.

  DLASTROMEO: Oh. My real name is Romeo. But please feel free to call me Drew. :)

  DELTADREAM: Cute. Well. Mr. Drew, it’s been nice chatting with you and I would love to chat again sometime. You are without a doubt one of the kindest men I’ve met on the Internet. I feel a little guilty to be in here typing with my friend in the bedroom. I hope I’m not ending our conversation too abruptly.

  DLASTROMEO: Hey I’m sorry I kept you so long. It was nice chatting with you as well. And I’m sorry for wearing out that shoulder with my love life. If you ever need it. you can borrow mine sometime.

  Betty signed off of the computer and headed to the bedroom. She felt very fortunate to have Evander in her life. He was the one man she had met who seemed to understand her. He asked for nothing but her happiness. He gave her everything, including his love.

  Evander offered her moral support when she worked long and hard on a case and listened to her talk when she got depressed about problems at the firm. He could hold her like a child when she wanted to be a baby or wine her and dine her when she felt the need to be his lady.

  Her feelings for him were strong. Betty felt deep inside she loved Evander, but she had never said the L word out loud. She had never felt as strong about another man in her life, but for some reason, she knew once the word was uttered, her defenses would be down and she would be vulnerable.

  Betty’s foster parents, while they loved each other, were different from her mother and stepfather. She had never seen her foster parents show emotion toward each other. She never saw as much as a kiss or a gentle gesture shared between the two. One night she called her foster mother from law school and asked her about the affectionless union. She confided in Betty that although she felt they would always love each other, in twenty-eight years of marriage they had yet to say the words “I Love you.” Not even when they were dating or on the night of their wedding. “But then again, we never had to. We just knew it,” she added. “And I’ll tell you something else, Betty Anne. People now’days toss that word around too much—so much I don’t think they even know what it means. Love is a powerful word. But if you love someone, you don’t have to say it to them. They’ll feel it. They’ll know. Always remember that. Never ever say ‘I love you,’ then you will know what I mean.”

  “Your feet cold, baby,” Evander mumbled as she snuggled closer to him in bed.

&nb
sp; “I know. I couldn’t find my slippers.”

  Evander eased out from the covers, took her childhood comforter from the antique oak chest at the foot of the bed, and placed it at her feet. He then went into the living room to turn on her Vivaldi CD, before he returned to their spooning position.

  “Thank you, boo.”

  “You feel comfy?” Evander asked in the midst of a fatigued yawn.

  “I do now,” she said, and snuggled closer to him. After a pregnant pause, Betty looked up at her ceiling fan and said, “Vander?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “Will it always be this good?”

  “I hope so, baby,” he said with sleep blanketing his tired voice. “I hope so.” Evander kissed her behind the ear, gave her a teddy-bear hug to draw her even closer to his warmth, and then returned to sleep.

  Saturday

  Seven A.M. came earlier than it used to, or at least it seemed as such to Betty. As she pulled the cover from over her head, she looked at the clock with disdain. I got a whole five hours’ sleep? she thought as she hit the snooze button.

  As she lay in bed, she thought about her hair. This was without question a hot-curl morning. Although she knew Evander well, she did not know him well enough to sleep with him in curlers. Just at that moment he walked in the room and said, “Time to get up, Beeper.” Beeper was one of the pet names he called her because she had told him a story of her father singing “Jeepers Creepers” to her as a baby. Since she could not say “jeepers,” she would end up just singing “beepers, beepers.”

  She looked at Evander standing there, all six feet three inches and 210 bronzed pounds of him. He wore a black terry cloth robe tied loosely, which gave her a peek at his swelling white bikini briefs. As he stood before her holding a tray with an apple Danish, quarter slice of grapefruit, and tea, Betty sighed to herself. “Get up, Beep. Remember, you have to work on that lawsuit you mentioned last night.”

  Betty stretched and her toes separated under the satin sheets as she replied, “I know, I know.” And then with a smile she said, “Thank you, honey. This is too sweet.”

  “After staying up so late, I knew you’d be tired this morning, so I got up and made you some tea. Did you sleep well?” her prince asked.

  “Yeah, I slept well, until that thing went off.”

  Evander smiled, put down the tray, and held out his large hand to her. “It’s time, Beep, come on.” As she sat up in her king-size bed, he secured her breakfast with care in front of her, along with a copy of the Saturday morning paper.

  “I take it you like Earl Grey. That’s all I saw in there. I hope it’s not too strong.”

  “No, it’s fine, I’m sure,” she said, unable to wipe the smile from her lips.

  “Well, I made a little too much, so if you like it, I’ll pour some in a thermos for later today.”

  “Thanks,” was all she could say.

  Betty savored her breakfast while Evander timed the radio to “Tom Joyner Moving On” and headed for the shower. She noticed her attaché was, as always, next to the bed, and she reached inside for her favorite tattered article, “Midway Railroad Loses Civil Case.” As she ran her fingers over the story, which she could recite verbatim, her smile reappeared while she leaned back into her goose-down pillow.

  Moments later, Evander turned off the shower and walked back into the room with a black towel cinched around his muscular waist. When she saw him, Betty leaped from the bed to greet him with a kiss and a warm hug that said thanks.

  “You know I love you like crazy, girl,” he said as he dried his short silky locks with a hand towel.

  “You’re just too good to be true. Do you know that? How did I become so lucky?”

  With a smiling gaze into her eyes, Evander softly kissed her on the tip of the nose. As she released the embrace, he walked to the bureau to dress for work. Betty felt guilty for not saying “I love you” back. She wanted to say it so badly. But not like this. When she said those three words, she wanted him to know they were heartfelt.

  As she entered the bathroom, she noticed a heart drawn on the foggy mirror, which made her feel more ashamed that she could not share what she felt. With a step into the shower stall, Betty leaned against the smooth onyx tile, deep in thought. When will we reach the end of the rainbow? Will it always be this good? How long would she be able to keep this guy in her life, without uttering those three simple words? But most of all, Betty searched her soul for the answer as to why she felt uneasy about him. In so many ways he was everything she had dreamed of. So was it the old joke being personified? Did she not want to join any club that would have her as a member? She wasn’t sure. But she did know what her heart felt for him, and debated whether she should just say those three little words so he would not walk away.

  As Betty dried herself, Evander knocked on the door to the bathroom, which was ajar, instead of just walking in on her. “Come in,” she said with a smile.

  “I’m getting ready to go, Beep. I poured the rest of the tea in the thermos, and it’s by the door. You’ll probably need it to stay awake today. Can I bring you something for lunch?”

  “No, sweetie, I’ll be fine, but thanks anyway.”

  “Okay,” he said, and reached out his arms to embrace her. As he did, Betty dropped her towel and pressed her nude body against his. His kiss met her lips with sweetness as he caressed her bottom and said, “You know something? I already miss you, and I haven’t even left.”

  “I wish you didn’t have to go so early,” she said, with suggestion in her tone.

  “So do I, but Ferguson is on vacation this week, and I need to make sure they got those orders out this morning on time. I mean,” he said, pulling away and looking her in the eye, “I could spare ten or fifteen minutes, but I never want to spend just fifteen minutes with you.”

  The words Evander? Do you know how much I love you? burst from her heart, came up her throat, and sat heavy on her tongue, but she would not allow them to pass her lips as she smiled.

  “Baby, have a nice day, okay?” He kissed her on both cheeks and then on the top of the head. As he backed away, he looked at her body, which glistened and begged for his. “I have to go, Beeper. I really do. Otherwise you know I would stay. Pick up that towel, honey, before you catch a cold, okay?”

  Betty stood, wet, motionless, and nude, as he backed up to the door and slowly pointed with a single finger to his eye. He then made the shape of a heart with both thumbs and index fingers and pointed toward her. As the door closed behind him, Betty knew for the first time that her foster mother was right. At that moment there was no need to say the words. She could feel it all over her body.

  In the steam of the bathroom, with the heart now fading from the mirror. With the tea he got up to make just for her on the edge of the countertop. With the memories of the seconds they’d just spent together and the towel nestled at her feet. She mouthed “I love you,” so quietly she couldn’t even hear the words. No man had moved her like this one. No man had made her shake and shiver without a single touch. No man had done so much just to bring her joy. While her foster mother would, or could, never understand, she felt her lips wrap around the words once again. “Evander, I love you so much.”

  After she backed out of the garage, Betty released the convertible top of her car and picked up her cellular to check her messages. The workday, although it was the weekend, had begun. Behind the gates of Royalton Oaks, most families pulled out their fishing boats, started searching for antiques, or put up their garage-sale signs on this sunny morning. The smell of dew in the air would soon be replaced with the scent of fresh-cut grass. But enjoying the leisure of the weekend was not a privilege she would allow herself to indulge. As she drove, she glanced at her organizer and her fingertips slid down the to-do section. Betty then pulled out her favorite cassette, Stevie Wonder’s Songs in the Key of Life, and fast-forwarded the tape to the song “As.”

  The sun gave hints of a beautiful day as the temperature was well above t
he average for the season. While the calendar said it was winter, it was in the low seventies that morning in spite of torrential rains the previous night. The nesting birds let loose in song as Betty drove through the gates of the neighborhood, headed toward the firm.

  When the track began, she put on her shades and burst out in song off-key.

  The lyrics were special to Betty because she hoped to find that type of love. Unconditional love. The kind of love she could feel comfortable with just as if it were her favorite childhood comforter or a cozy sweater. A love in which she could roll up and rest after a long day. She would feel warm and sheltered from storms in this love, no matter how cold it became outside. The kind of love she would know in her heart would last forever. She had not reached that point with Evander, but she could feel herself getting closer to it each day. With every “I love you” from him, her heart tapped a little harder. With every flower, the words came closer to his ear.

  The most difficult aspect in regards to Betty’s relationship with Evander was that she lacked a frame of reference. The men who’d preceded him had little or no redeeming qualities to speak of. Her first lover had taken her money and much of her respect for men in general.

  Then there was Derrick, who looked like a black Marlboro man and drove a thirty-thousand-dollar automobile. Betty met him at a bookstore one Saturday afternoon in the ancient history section. Her thought was, Wow. A brother interested in ancient Egypt. One cool point. He introduced himself without any of the nonsense men often used to mask their fear when they spoke to ladies. Two cool points. He could converse and he had an obvious command of the English language, which was due in part to the fact that he was an English teacher in a high school. Three points. Helping with the books, wearing her favorite men’s cologne, and walking her out to the car were simply the cherry on top.

  Derrick, after a little intelligent banter, asked for her phone number. Betty was not the type of woman who gave out such information, nor was she impressed by most men. Usually she asked men for their numbers if they asked for hers, and said she would call them. But if an exception was to be made to her rule, this would be the man. Derrick was a cocoa-fine brother in more ways than one, with an athletic chest, an L-shaped chin, and sculpted arms. And after all, he did earn three cool points, she thought, saying, “555-1831,” as he wrote it in his palm. She even liked the fact he wrote it on his hand, because it showed her he was not there on a mission to pick up women.