by Nikki Rashan
“Of course I am.”
She gave me one last stare, shook her head and walked away. I stayed in the shower long enough to make sure she would be gone by the time I got to my locker. Vanessa was hanging up from a call on her cell phone when I returned.
“Okay, I need you and Tori at Tie the Knot Saturday morning at ten. Does that work for you?”
“Yes, I’ll be there.”
I hated to open the door for an answer I wasn’t prepared to hear, but I needed to know if Vanessa knew what was up with Tori. Truly, I needed to know if either of them knew about Steph.
“Do you know what’s going on with our girl?” I asked her.
“Girl, no, but I wish she would tell us so we can move past it. She came in this morning all agitated, and I have no idea why. Maybe she’s still mad about Juan.”
“Maybe. But it’s not like she hasn’t dealt with assholes in the past. I think it’s something else.”
“Well, whatever it is, I know she better get over it quickly because I don’t want attitudes messing with my wedding day.”
That’s the first time I’d ever heard Vanessa say anything remotely selfish, and I still knew she was halfway kidding.
On my way to class Yvonne called my cell to touch base about Gladyce’s birthday this Saturday. She had made the reservations to Luca’s, an upbeat Italian restaurant located downtown.
“Are you bringing anyone?” Yvonne asked.
Was I bringing anyone? What happened to “Is Jeff coming?” I suddenly felt like everyone could see something coming and I was blind to it. Or maybe I was just pretending like I didn’t see it either.
“Jeff is coming,” I said, somewhat irritated that she would ask. “Are you bringing Byron?”
“Yes. We’ve seen each other several times since our lunch date, and now he’s presentable,” she informed me.
“I can’t wait to meet him,” I said.
“I hope you like him. Dinner is at eight, so we can meet there. Dad is picking Mom up, so don’t worry about her.”
“Okay. I’ll see you then.”
“Bye, Kyla.”
Steph and I were eating cheese omelets in our usual spot when I vented about Tori. She had me feeling like I had done something to upset her, and I knew I hadn’t. At least not intentionally.
“I hope she doesn’t have a problem with me,” Steph said.
“You know, she almost made it seem like she knows something about you and me. I don’t know how. I could just be paranoid.”
“What makes you think she knows anything?”
“Well, she kept staring at me like she was waiting for me to tell her about you. I asked her what was up, and she told me to tell her. I don’t know what she meant by that.”
“Hmph. Yeah, it sounds like she thinks she knows something. I told you, Ky, it only takes one person at the club who knows somebody, who knows somebody that knows you. And then the word is out. Especially because you were a new face.”
“I guess I didn’t think of it that way.”
“Tori will come around and tell you what’s bothering her eventually. She doesn’t seem like the type to hold her tongue.”
“I hope so, because I don’t like this tension,” I said.
“I guess you’ll think twice about coming again,” she stated.
“Please, I’ll go back to the club if I want to,” I said defiantly. “I can’t let people dictate what I do.”
Steph smiled. “Good for you, Kyla. But be careful, all right?”
I knew she wasn’t referring to Tori, but rather Jeff. “I will.”
We didn’t approach the topic of “us.” I don’t think either one of us had anything new to bring to the table. But I grew fonder of her with every minute I spent with her. Still, that didn’t change the fact that I was involved in a relationship already. So what could I do about it? We didn’t make any plans to get together this week, but I was hoping we would talk.
Our hug good-bye was different today. It was soft, but meaningful, lingering and sensual. Her arms rested around my waist, pressing my body into hers so we were touching from head to toe. The sensation that ran through my body was overwhelming.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” she said in my ear.
Never in my life had I wanted so badly to hold and kiss someone and never let go. I smiled before releasing her, and we went our separate ways.
I had three voice mail messages when I got home from work that evening. One was from Gladyce, thanking Yvonne and me in advance for her birthday dinner that week. Another from Jeff telling me he would be over around nine o’clock tonight. And Katie from Hot 104 called to tell me the station tried contacting me this morning live on the air but there was no answer. Turned out I was the grand-prize winner of the all-expense-paid trip to Nassau, Bahamas. I couldn’t believe it! I played the message three times to make sure I’d heard it correctly. I was so excited that I started jumping up and down on my love seat. I damn near fell and broke the glass table. I took all the information down to call Katie back in the morning.
While I took a shower I fantasized about lounging on the beach sipping a mai tai and watching a breathtaking sunrise from my balcony. And taking a romantic walk along the shore with waves splashing my thighs with each step . . . but whose hand would I be holding on these walks?
Confusion overcame me. Why was my mind tormenting me with thoughts of another woman? Why was my body yearning for a touch I’d never felt before? I tried to dig deep in my heart to figure out why these feelings were emerging. Had something happened to me to turn my attention toward women? No. I’d been in a happy, loving relationship with Jeff for over four years. I’d had my heart broken once and never since then, so I can’t say that a bad experience with a man had done this to me. David, and now Stephanie, said that people are born gay. But, hell, I was twenty-six years old; you’d think I would have had an inkling of it by now.
According to David and the therapist Aunt Shari sent him to, a person can be gay or straight, with many people falling somewhere in-between. There are women that never have and never would consider sleeping with a man, and vice versa. Then there are those that experiment with same-sex relationships but don’t consider themselves gay. And then there are bisexuals, who swim somewhere around the midpoint, loving both same-and opposite-sex relationships. David thought bisexuals should make up their minds and make a choice, and then in the next breath he’d say he won’t judge them because he didn’t want anyone judging him.
So where did I fit it? I’d always believed I was heterosexual, considering I’d only had boyfriends in the past. Sure, I’d admired the beauty of Nia Long and Vanessa Williams, but did I want to get with them? Hell no. Had I ever been comfortable in the nudity of other women? No, I hadn’t. Did that mean something? I have no idea. All I know was that after all these years, I couldn’t figure out why I was torn between the love of a man and the desire for a woman.
I was still deep in thought when my apartment buzzer rang and Jeff let himself in. I was lying on my bed, rubbing lotion on my skin, when he stood in my bedroom doorway. His presence seemed so masculine as he watched me without saying a word. I continued to bathe my skin in Victoria’s Secret Turquoise Paradise as I studied him. He stood tall and handsome in a navy blue business suit with a blue and yellow tie. His shoulders were strong and broad with long arms at his sides. The shadow on his face needed shaving, giving him a slightly rugged appearance.
His eyes twinkled with delight as I put lotion on the inside of my thighs slowly, seductively . . . inviting him in.
I needed him to make love to me. I needed him to lay me down, look down at me and rock my body as only a man could. Could he wash away these thoughts and urges I was feeling for someone else? Could each stroke touch a part of me that a woman could not? Could I feel his heart pound against mine and feel a bond and unity that couldn’t be replaced? I hoped so. I wanted it to be so. I needed comfort and security in his embrace. Jeff obliged me.
Afterward,
I lay in his arms, feeling his breath on my neck, trying to force back the tears of confusion that bled through my eyes.
8
Saturday morning I stood in front of the three-way mirror in a satin, floor-length bridesmaid dress in fire-engine red. It flared from the waist down and had a ruffled trim at the bottom and around the puffy-ass sleeves. I turned around and stared at the big bow sitting on top of my butt. I looked at Tori, who looked back at me in disbelief. I silently prayed that Vanessa would choose another dress.
“What do you think?” I asked Vanessa, fearing her answer. “It doesn’t look how I thought it would,” she said, studying every angle of my body.
“Yeah,” Tori jumped in.
“I think the bow might bounce on our asses when we walk too,” I said, hoping she would get a clue.
“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll be back,” Vanessa said and she was off with the saleslady.
“Girl! What in the hell is this?” Tori asked as soon as Vanessa left the fitting room, which was more like a glamorous Hollywood dressing room, with velvet cushioned chairs and fresh flowers scenting the air.
“I wish I knew. Please go help her,” I asked Tori.
“Oh, hell yeah. I can’t be walking around looking like Little Red Riding Hood all day.”
Tori left, and I took off that hideous dress, wondering why someone as intelligent as Vanessa had zero sense of style.
My relationship with Tori seemed somewhat back to normal. We had shared an enjoyable evening last night at the restaurant, sipping martinis and devouring appetizers of nachos and mozzarella sticks with marinara sauce.
Jeff and Roger talked sports all evening with Tori’s new friend, Malik. He was a tall, chocolate, Morehouse graduate who worked as supervisor of the call center for the phone company. I could only imagine the pussy that was thrown at him on a daily basis.
The girls and I talked about the upcoming holidays as well as the wedding, of course. The chip on Tori’s shoulders must have fallen off because she was her usual upbeat, sassy self. I was glad to have her back.
Vanessa returned with yet another dress straight from the 1980s. Who still made this out-of-date shit? Tori rushed in behind her carrying a deep red, sexy, spaghetti strapped dress with a high slit right up the front. There was a matching shawl that draped across the back and upper arms. The dress was sharp.
“Try this one!” Tori said, and practically threw the dress at me. She didn’t have to tell me twice.
I moved carefully, trying not to feel self-conscious as they watched me dress. Neither of them seemed to be paying attention to me, only the way the dress eased onto my body.
It was fantastic! The dress curved to my waist and hips and flashed a little thigh with each step. Please let her choose this one, please let her choose this one, I prayed again, asking God for this one favor.
“What about this one?” Vanessa asked, holding up her dress looking like something Queen Elizabeth would have worn.
“No!” Tori and I yelled together.
“I mean, this one looks good, don’t you think?” I crossed my fingers.
“But it’s expensive. I was trying not to have you spend too much money,” Vanessa responded.
“Don’t worry about that, V. This dress is more versatile because it can be worn more than once,” I said, trying to convince her. “I can wear it to a dinner party or a Christmas party. Right, Tori?” I added with a nod of my head, encouraging her to agree.
“Oh yes! I’ll go find my size and try it on.” She skipped away before Vanessa could protest. The saleslady even looked relieved.
I snapped my fingers and did a little dance in the mirror just to make sure there was enough room in the dress to get my groove on the dance floor.
Vanessa conceded. “The dress looks great on you, Ky. You and Jeff will look so handsome walking down the aisle together. It’ll be good practice.”
“You don’t see a ring on this finger, do you?” I wiggled my left hand.
“Don’t speak too soon.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing.” She grinned and turned to Tori as she walked back into the fitting room.
Did she know something I didn’t know? Had Jeff talked about marriage with Roger? Inquiring minds wanted to know!
After we left the bridal salon, we went to Brookfield Mall to pick out shoes and have lunch in the food court. I was full and sleepy after eating my chicken sandwich and large fry, but I had one more stop to make. We said our good-byes, and I headed straight to Barnes & Noble, cautiously making my way to the gay and lesbian section.
I mimicked a shoplifter, looking all around to see if anyone was watching me. Anybody who was watching me must have thought I had some serious issues by the way I literally tiptoed across the carpeting. There was already a man in the area flipping through a book, so I made a shadow next to him.
There were books ranging from parenting gay children to gay parents with children. One cover of two women hugging a smiling little boy caught my attention. I saw Steph, Michelle, and Jaron in their faces.
Finally, I got up enough courage to pick up a lesbian magazine and took a look at some of the articles. I was amazed by the clothing advertisements of women hugged together, or women intertwined in a swimming pool advertising a lesbian resort. Who knew lesbian resorts existed? And gay cruises and conferences and movies and books?
I walked to the counter, purchased the magazine and immediately folded it into my purse like it was FBI top-secret material. When I got home, I read the magazine cover to cover before placing it between my mattresses and taking a nap. I dreamt I was sliding down a giant rainbow from the sky into a pool that glittered red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple. So that’s what those car window stickers meant.
Jeff and I met our dinner party late because I overslept for the second time that week. I was slobbing on my pillow when Jeff started tickling my feet to wake me up. He had arrived dressed and ready to go, while I had to fit at least an hour of preparation into thirty minutes.
You know that feeling of paranoia you get when you’re hiding something? I kept peeking my head out of my bathroom to make sure Jeff wasn’t digging between my mattresses in the bedroom. As far I as know, Jeff had never lifted my mattress before, so I was feeling crazy for thinking he was going to this particular night. He wasn’t even in my bedroom; he was in the living room watching TV.
When we finally arrived at Luca’s, I searched the heads around the restaurant, and spotted Yvonne and her brownish-blond hair that I’d envied my entire life. The girl looked like she had been to the beauty salon for a complete makeover. She had taken her medium-length hair and set it in curls. She added sable eyeliner to accent her brown eyes and caramel lipstick over her full lips. She wore a midnight blue jumpsuit I wanted for myself out of the Spiegel catalog. That girl never showed any skin, but she looked fabulous.
Sitting next to her was a square-looking brother that reminded me of the new millennium version of Roger from What’s Happening!!, big glasses and all. So that was handsome Byron? I vowed to myself not to talk about him because my sister was beaming next to him. She looked so happy.
“Look who finally made it,” Gladyce said as I bent down to give her a kiss.
“Fashionably late,” I replied, handing her a medium-sized box wrapped in silver paper with a white bow.
“Thank you, sweetie.” She smiled.
I looked at my mom and studied her movements. She turned forty-nine today but didn’t look a day over forty. She covered her gray hair with dyes of her natural brown hair color. She lightened her makeup as she got older, but she kept her eyebrows defined, and mascara, blush, and lipstick natural looking. She was lovely in black slacks and a rose silk blouse, unbuttoned to show the gold necklace with diamond cross that my dad gave her for their tenth wedding anniversary.
Throughout dinner I watched my mom and dad’s interaction, amazed by the love and friendship that remained between the two of the
m. Sometimes I wished one of them would share the reason why their marriage ended. A casual observer would think they were still a married couple in love. I was happy that the two of them maintained a healthy relationship, and even if it was strictly for the benefit of Yvonne and me, I didn’t care.
Byron was leading a stimulating conversation about the potential wealth to be made in investments, and just when I thought my head would hit the table, the waiters gathered around us to deliver my mom’s birthday cake. We sang “Happy Birthday” with several other tables joining in. She blew out the number four and number nine candles on the cake and everyone cheered. The cake was her favorite, marble with cherry filling in the middle. It wasn’t high on my list of favorites, but I ate it because she loved it.
My dad presented her with a bottle of perfume. This was a tradition of theirs that didn’t dare cease after the divorce. There is no doubt in my mind that my mother had splashed, spritzed, and sprayed every cologne, body splash, and scented lotion ever created. When Givenchy came out with a new perfume, Gladyce got it. When Calvin Klein came out with Obsession, she had one of the first bottles. And Bath & Body Works will never go out of business as long as Gladyce is around.
When we were children, Yvonne and I would sit at her vanity table in awe of the tens of dozens of bottles lined across the table. This year, Gladyce received Coco Mademoiselle, a new fragrance by Chanel. We passed it around the table for all to smell, inhaling the fragrance over the natural garlic scent floating through the restaurant.
Yvonne gave Mom a Tiffany bracelet. You know, it looks like the chain link bracelet with a heart charm that every Claire’s boutique was imitating, minus the official Tiffany engraving.
I presented her with a music box that opened playing Beethoven’s “Largo.” Inside were two small African American girls dressed in leotards and tights twirling together. Above them, inside the top cover was a scanned picture of me and Yvonne after our first dance recital. With our hair in buns and our arms wrapped around one another, we cheesed into the camera with missing teeth. Gladyce’s eyes filled with tears and my heart was pleased.