by Nikki Rashan
I still think about Steph every day and hope that all is well with her and Jaron. From what I heard, she recently graduated from the university and accepted a position as a counselor in one of the public high schools. She moved back to the east side and purchased a home with Michelle, who came back to town shortly after my engagement to Jeff.
By the time I called off my wedding to Jeff, realizing I needed Steph in my life on a full-time basis, it was too late. Her love and her relationship with Michelle had rekindled and that left no room for me. I was ass out. No man. No woman. And a shitload of people waiting for an explanation.
After Vanessa and Roger’s wedding a few years ago, I spent the next four weeks in complete shambles. Sleeping became an activity I stumbled upon only when my mind tired of the what-if’s, should I’s, and no, I can’t’s. Eating was a motion acted out only when Jeff showed up at my door with carryout, or Gladyce sent a plate of home-cooked food over by way of Yvonne or my dad.
The years I had put into the department store were near termination as one sick day followed another. And school became a hellish game of duck and dodge as I avoided any contact with Stephanie. I feared our meeting would end in her dismissing me out of her life completely.
The first few times I saw her I’d take cover behind a pillar, or post myself behind a cracked door and watch her as she walked by, studied from a book, or chatted with a classmate. She smiled and looked happy, but the sparkle in her eyes had temporarily faded and was replaced with a shadow of sorrow at the loss of the love we shared. Due to my deteriorating ability to cope with my surroundings, I remained in an oblivious state even when the shine in her eyes began to glow again. Even when I’d see her grinning while murmuring private words into her cell phone. I was blind to the heartache I was soon to encounter.
It took me eight weeks and two days to make the decision that would change the course of my life forever. And ever. And ever. That morning I awoke with a burst of energy I hadn’t felt for months. I could hardly contain my excitement as I gaily swept through my morning routine of preparing myself for a boring Wednesday morning class and an even more uneventful afternoon cleaning fitting rooms, decorating mannequins with the latest “jones” of New York fashions, and assisting hungry customers desperately seeking the best deal from the annual Presidents’ Day sale. But nothing could sour my mood as I loudly sang along with radio tunes while driving myself (uninvited) to Steph’s apartment. When “If Ever You’re in My Arms Again” drifted through the car speakers, I knew it was confirmation that declaring my love for Steph was the right decision. I mean, surely that was a sign, right?
I pulled into the parking lot of Steph’s complex feeling more confident than Michael Jordan shooting a game-winning three-pointer. There was just no way I could lose Steph. Continuing to hum Peabo’s song, I got out of the car and walked to apartment 102. Ding, the bell chimed inside.
Heels clacked against the linoleum floor and a very stunned Stephanie Coleman opened the door. Geared up in a suit the CEO of her own company might wear, she looked amazing. No longer sporting her signature ponytail, her straightened locks hung freely in cascading layers, with wisps down the sides of her face, and flowing down her back (apparently I failed to acknowledge the “new attitude” hairdo as well). Steph’s mouth instantly fell open, though she quickly gained composure and smiled at me.
“Hey, Kyla,” she said, and then swallowed hard. “What brings you here?”
Standing erect with my hands at my side, you would have thought I was standing in formation before my superior officer after going AWOL for eight weeks.
“Well, I came to see you,” I said. In response I thought I saw an I know that look flash across her face. “Can I come in?” I asked.
Still leaning against the door, Steph turned around as if waiting for the living room to grant its permission. “Um, sure, I have a couple of minutes,” she said, stepping aside to let me in.
Freshly brewed coffee alerted my senses and got my blood flowing. This was it! The climactic finale of my journey to self-discovery . . .
“Have a seat,” she said, leading me to the brown leather couch we had held so many intimate conversations on. Sitting there once again brought back a surge of emotions I could no longer contain. The familiar smell of her perfume created a burning desire in me to hold her once again. For a moment I saw us making love on the couch, just five minutes into the future.
Her concerned expression snapped me out of my brief daydream and assured me that she was anxiously awaiting an explanation for my presence.
A memorized and rehearsed speech sat on the tip of my tongue, waiting its departure from my lips. Patiently she sat beside me, hands in her lap, eyes pouring into my soul.
“Steph, I came to see you today because I have something to tell you,” I said.
Silence.
“Six months ago I never would have imagined sitting across from such a beautiful, kind, loving person. I never would have imagined opening my heart so completely. And now I’m willing and ready to let go of all fears, doubts, and worries about sharing a life with you. I miss you and I want you back in my life. I’m ready, Steph. I’m ready to love you openly and honestly,” I said confidently.
I reached and placed my hands on top of her trembling hands. Her face softened, and an agonizing look of grief covered her face.
“Kyla—” she said softly.
Jingling keys and a sudden opening of the front door interrupted her reply.
“You know who forgot his book bag again,” the hurried woman said loudly, barely glancing up as she stepped inside the foyer.
“Oh . . .” she said, finally noticing Steph and me sitting barely breathing, on the couch (or maybe I was the only one holding my breath).
Steph immediately stood up, hopelessly perplexed by her sudden predicament.
My head darted toward the silver-framed photo to my left. Several months prior, Steph had told me the story behind the four lovely women smiling for the camera. Although her hair had grown into a short bob, and she was dressed in a winter warm-up suit, as opposed to the evening gown donned in the picture, there was no question that this woman before me was Michelle, Steph’s one and only true love.
“I’ll get it,” Steph said, racing in the direction of Jaron’s room.
Michelle and I were silent, although the pounding of my heart seemed deafening, if to my ears only. During my time of contemplation, weighing the pros, cons, and whatif’s, this dilemma here had not once crossed my mind. Never had Michelle even been a thought.
Steph returned with Jaron’s backpack and handed it to Michelle, who quickly took the bag. Without words, their eyes exchanged a conversation that I later interpreted as:
Michelle: Is that Kyla?
Steph: Yes.
Michelle: Why is she here?
Steph: (painful blank stare)
Michelle: Because she wants you back?
Steph: Yes.
Michelle: We’ll talk later.
Steph: Yes, we will.
Michelle: I love you.
Steph: I love you too.
After an empathetic glance in my direction, Michelle walked out. Steph slowly closed the door behind her, and then turned to face me. Stunned would have been a kind definition to describe what I felt at that moment. The self-assured demeanor I held only minutes earlier was replaced by a searing hot flash through my entire body. Burning cheeks revealed my embarrassment and disappointment.
“Kyla, I’m sorry,” Steph said as she made her way back to my side. Her slender fingers reached for my face and caressed my cheek.
So badly I wanted to cry, but merely closed my eyes for a moment, and savored her soft strokes to my skin.
“About a week after Vanessa’s wedding I got a phone call from Michelle completely out of the blue,” she explained. “She asked me if it would be all right if she came to visit, and of course I couldn’t say no. She stayed for about a week, and we caught up on all that happened to us over the past tw
o years. Just like me, she hadn’t had any luck finding a successful relationship either.”
I knew that wasn’t necessarily a dig at me, but it still stung a little.
“I told her all about you and how much I truly hoped we could be together. She listened to me, Kyla, and it felt so good to be able to talk to someone about us. I couldn’t tell anyone about you because of your situation. It was eating me up inside. After she left I was so torn. A part of me wanted to ask her to stay, but another part prayed for a miracle with you.” Tears threatened to fall from the corners of her eyes as she paused. “But you didn’t call. I never saw you at school. You just . . . disappeared. After a while I assumed you must have decided to get married. I didn’t know what else to think. And then I realized that I must have been given a second chance with Michelle. I didn’t want to lose her again.” She stared deeply into my eyes. “I didn’t want to lose love again either. Please understand.”
Although I understood, the regret I felt dominated my emotions. Had I not waited eight weeks and two days, perhaps this episode wouldn’t have occurred. Had I gotten the courage to reveal what was in my heart sooner, then maybe, just maybe, it would have been me taking Jaron to school and not Michelle. But apparently Steph and Michelle were meant to be. Was I jealous? Hell, yes. There sat a woman I was ready to alter my entire life for, and she had fallen back in love with someone else.
“I understand, Steph,” I said standing up and gathering my purse. “I’m happy for you. For the both of you,” I managed, hoping I was convincing.
Steph stood also, an awkward, slow rise, as if debating her next move.
My head lowered in defeat; I was motionless, not wanting to leave, but knowing I couldn’t stay. “I guess I better go.” I struggled, unsure how to say good-bye. But then she was there. Right in front of me. So close I could feel her chest rise and fall with each breath. She wrapped her hand around my neck and leaned her forehead against mine. I closed my eyes when she kissed me. A tender kiss on my lips. I welcomed her lips on mine, though I was too afraid to kiss her back. She pressed against me, and then parted.
“I’m going to miss you, Stephanie,” I whispered, tousling strands of her hair between my fingers.
She opened her mouth to respond, but I held my hand over her lips. The compassion and sorrow in her eyes spoke words she need not speak. Finally, her eyes lingered in the direction of the door, an indication of her concern that at any time, the love of her life would be returning.
Together we walked to the door, a melancholy aura following us. We shared a brief hug, and I inhaled the delicate scent of her skin once more.
“Good-bye, Stephanie,” I said, biting my bottom lip in an effort to hold back my tears just a few minutes longer.
“Good-bye, Kyla,” she said, and then turned her eyes to the floor to hide her own tears.
I was halfway down the walkway when Steph called for me.
“Ky!”
I turned on my three-inch knee-high boots.
“Does Jeff know?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, and smiled sadly. “Yes, he does.”
A brief gaze lingered between us before Steph nodded gently and slowly closed the door. When I think about it now, I’m not sure just how long I stood there staring at that closed door. Perhaps I was in temporary shock. Total disbelief. Or complete bewilderment about what in the hell was going to happen to my life from that moment forward.
Only two days prior I had gathered my closest loved ones into my mother’s home, in similar fashion as we had congregated on Christmas day when Jeff proposed to me. My mother, father, Yvonne, best friends Tori and Vanessa, and my fiancé Jeff sat throughout the living room while I took center stage. David, my lifesaver, stood just a few steps to my side, possibly ready to catch me fall if I fainted from an anxiety attack. Even with the seriousness of the event, I nearly chuckled at a passing thought. I bet they think I’m pregnant. No, that would’ve been good news compared to what I was about to announce.
“Um, well,” I started, “I brought you all here because I love each of you, and I need to share something important.” I glanced back at David, who gestured for me to continue. Even though I knew I should have been a bit more tactful, nerves got the best of me. “I can’t get married.”
Three individual gasps escaped loudly from my mother, Yvonne, and Vanessa. My father appeared terribly concerned, as a troubled frown formed between his eyebrows. Tori groaned irritably. Jeff tried to remain expressionless, but couldn’t conceal his building indignation.
I sighed heavily and willed every ounce of courage in my body upward to my lips. “I’m in love with someone else,” I said.
In an instant Jeff was on his feet, his arm grasped tightly around mine as he led me to the spare room across the hall, closing the door to the buzzing chatter we left behind. Tension engulfed the small room as Jeff paced back and forth, occasionally glancing at me and shaking his head. The dark purple wallpaper surrounded us, its darkness closing in on me as if I had reached the end of a tunnel of no escape. Because the space was no longer the guest bedroom for visiting family members, boxes of old clothing rested in the corner, awaiting delivery to Goodwill. Unused items were scattered throughout—a turntable and floor speakers, a wooden rocking chair, and my mother’s sewing machine sat dusty in a corner of the room. As a child I’d watch, fascinated, as the hole in the skinned knee of my jeans miraculously disappeared under my mother’s care. Oh, the simplicities in finding joy as a child—how I wished it were still so easy.
“Jeff, I can explain,” I offered.
He held up his hand to stop me. “You’ve said enough already, Kyla. It’s my turn now.”
He stopped pacing and stood directly in front of me, glaring at me, not more than a few inches from my face. “It’s because of her, right?” he snarled.
I gasped for breath so loudly, you’d have thought I had been punched in the stomach. If only David were there to catch me at that moment. I stumbled a few steps backward, balancing myself against the closed door.
“Did you think I didn’t know, Kyla? Did you really think that?” he yelled in my face.
I didn’t answer, nor did he expect one.
“I know you better than you think I do, Kyla. I know what makes you happy. I know what makes you sad. I feel you, Kyla.”
I lowered my head in shame, but his pressing finger against my chin lifted my head up, forcing me to look into his pained, but angered eyes. He commanded my attention.
“You changed on me. I had to know why,” he explained. “One night I was talking to Kent about our wedding and I told him that I thought you were beginning to have doubts. He asked me had you started to behave differently and I said yes. The more I thought about it, I realized you started to act differently after she entered your life. Our lives,” he emphasized. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out she’s a lesbian? That shit didn’t matter to me, Ky. Don’t you know me better than that? But the fact that you kept that piece of information from me was all I needed to know.”
The finger against my chin moved to wipe away the tears that fell from my eyes. “Why didn’t you come to me? You don’t think we could have talked about this?” he asked empathetically. Then he switched gears. “And now you want to throw everything away without the decency of discussing it with me first? You just treat me like everybody else and tell me right along with the rest of your family? You weren’t marrying them, Ky, you were marrying me. You went about this the wrong way. This is bullshit.”
He reached for the doorknob behind me.
“Wait,” I said, taking his hand away. “Can I explain?”
He thought for a moment, I suppose questioning whether or not an accounting of the previous six months would help if the end result was the same. Staring at me, seething in silence, he waited for me to go on.
“I don’t even know how this happened, Jeff,” I began, attempting to speak between the spasms in my chest. “It all went so fast. She and I just clicked right fro
m the start. It was fun having her in my class and hanging out with her after school. The more I got to know her, the closer I felt to her, and all these emotions I didn’t even know existed started surfacing. I started thinking about her in ways that were beyond friendship. I was so confused, Jeff . . . so confused about what to do with my feelings. All my life I’ve only desired men. And now one person has changed that,” I said, staring at the hardwood floor.
He laughed at me. “Now you think you’re gay, Kyla? You’ve know this woman for six months. Six months! You’re ready to fuck up what we have, what we could have, for her?” he asked, fear and disgust of my upcoming answer showing on his face.
“I’m sorry, Jeff,” I said, more tears stinging my eyes. “Believe me, I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t know it was right for me.”
“Right for you? What about us, Ky? What about the life I have planned for me and you?”
“Please don’t make me feel guilty, Jeff. Please. I am doing this for us. If I didn’t make this decision, I’d be living the rest of my life wondering what may have been. You don’t want a wife who will always be questioning whether or not she made the right decision, do you? That wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”
“Your love for me isn’t strong enough to choose me? After all we’ve shared you want to give it up for a woman you barely know? I don’t get it.”
“That’s the thing, Jeff, I do know her. I feel like I’ve known her forever. Like I said, we’ve gotten close,” I hinted, not knowing how detailed I’d have to be for him to understand how strongly I felt.
“Hold up, hold up! You’re trying to tell me that you slept with her? You fucked around with her while you were with me?” he yelled. “All this time I sat back and watched and waited for you to sort this out. When you pulled away from me, I knew it had to do with her. But I still trusted you enough not to be fucking around, laying up under somebody else, I don’t care if she is a goddamn woman! You’re still my woman. What the fuck? I haven’t done shit to you to deserve this, Kyla.”