In Tandem

by Christina C Jones

  How the fuck was I supposed to trust them with what I had to say?

  So I chilled.

  I laughed along with dinner and kept it cool, skirting any and all leading ass questions about when I was leaving the Heights, let alone getting back on the bike. I was already physically exhausted, and now mentally I was shot too. I didn't have the energy or desire to deal with whatever would come along with it once I gave my actual answer to both of those questions.

  Never.

  After dinner, my parents thought they were slick, with an attempt to head straight to the hotel instead of back to Britt to get my things. I wasn’t gonna force the issue though, I was completely cool just requesting a ride from an app so they wouldn't have to go out of their way.

  But they insisted, once they realized I was going either way. And then sent Lucia - who was conveniently staying in the same hotel - up to Britt's apartment with me, “in case I needed help.”

  I didn't.

  “Well,” she said, as soon as we stepped into the building’s entryway. “Look at us – both evidence of that stereotypical Italian men love black women thing,” she joked, not funny at all.

  I snorted. “Yeah, well my Italian side already has a particular black woman in mind,” I told her, heading up the stairs. “You can wait here.”

  “But your parents—”

  “I don't give a shit what my parents said. I said you can wait here.”

  And then I turned around to head up to B’s apartment.

  I let out a deep sigh before I knocked on the door, knowing she was waiting since I’d shot her a text like she asked. There was no way I’d want to leave once I saw her face.

  I knocked anyway though.

  She greeted me with a big hug and that pretty ass smile of hers.

  “Hey,” she gushed, with her arms around my waist. “Tell me everything. How did it go?”

  I swallowed, and shook my head. “Can we talk about it later?” I asked.

  I was too exhausted to dive into it with her, knowing it was much more than a short conversation could do any justice.

  “Of course,” she said. “I made sure all your stuff was back in here,” she assured me, handing me my bag. “I'll walk you back downstairs.”

  When we opened her front door… Lucia was standing right there, eyes wide as soon as she saw Britt.

  She hit me - hit both of us - with another one of those megawatt smiles. “I was just coming to see if you needed any help,” she said, her eyes fixed on Brittany.

  “I told you I didn't.”

  Her ass wasn’t slick.

  Temporarily ignoring the fact that we’d decided to keep it cool in front of others, I turned to grab Britt at the waist, pulling her into me. I planted a kiss on her that backfired a little bit - it made it very hard for me to let her go, and even harder to know I was about to walk back down those stairs.

  “I'll see you later, amore mio,” I told her before I turned away, not at all bothering to keep my voice down.

  “Bye,” she said, not lingering before she closed the door and I could only imagine what kind of stuff was running through her mind about Lucia’s presence.

  Which… had been Lucia’s goal.

  I didn’t say shit to her as we headed down the stairs, but she didn’t have that same discipline.

  “Amore mio, huh?” she said, just before we reached the door that led outside. “Your love?”

  “Yeah,” I responded, not bothering to look back as I held the door for her to pass through. “Some shit you wouldn’t know anything about.”

  Chapter Ten

  I could see myself with Rafael.

  Like, really see myself with him.

  It was this strange thing that kept me up at night - well obviously not the night it all happened, but the night we got back from Sugar Valley…

  The night he left to go be with his parents.

  We were up most of the night, and that was part of it. We were texting, about everything except the most immediate, most obvious topics at hand. Just talking about the kind of random stuff we would typically talk about, instead of dealing with the things we really needed to talk about.

  But I knew eventually we’d get to it.

  We always did.

  But in the meantime… I could see myself with Raf.

  I kinda got the point he'd made before, about the only real difference - for us at least - being sex. Cause when I said I could see myself with Raf, it wasn't coming from a place of… envisioning us at the movies together, or chilling together, or being in his arms.

  None of those things were new to me.

  None of those things would represent some significant change for us.

  But I could see myself… having his kid, for example. Not that either of us was remotely there yet, but just the fact that my mind would connect to it as a potential occurrence, as a possibility.

  It was wild.

  But in a good way.

  I was in my shop, with everything to work on my bike project out on the table. That was it though. It was just out, because I knew my lack of focus would have created some type of problem with the bike that was too precious for me to risk ruining.

  So instead of touching anything, instead of fucking anything up, when my brain was so clearly more interested in doodling mashups of mine and Raf’s names in my mental notebook… I left it.

  And I let my mind run free.

  There was something incredibly peaceful about that.

  A freedom I hadn't experienced before, back when I had this mental block up against the possibility of Raf and me. I mean, it wasn't like it was something I had to employ on a day-to-day basis. Just a little thing I had to remind myself sometimes.

  When I wanted to lock fingers with him at one of those movies I talked about going to. When I wanted to snuggle in his arms underneath a blanket while we chilled. When those arms started feeling like anything except comfort from my dearest friend in the world…

  “He's not thinking about you like that.”

  He could’ve had any girl in school, any girl in the neighborhood he wanted.

  Why would he want me?

  It was ugly.

  So ugly that I cringed, though I certainly wasn't far enough past that feeling now to judge myself for it. But still… the fact that I considered myself in that way, the fact that I precluded myself from the running while the whole time I was exactly what he wanted.

  Not that Raf’s desire for me was the alpha and omega, beginning and the end.

  He was a man, and I’d certainly learned from watching my parents that often, a man's desire for you was fleeting, and fickle.

  They were fucking flaky.

  I couldn't put too much stock in that, and certainly wasn't so enthralled by the idea of his approval that I was going to stake the entire basis of my confidence on the fact that Raf thought I was hot.

  But I was hot.

  It was like logically I knew that, and could accept it.

  But all the same… those old insecurities, that deeply rooted disdain for my appearance couldn't help rearing its’ ugly head.

  Every time I started feeling myself.

  It kinda made it hard to trust myself.

  Was I really confident, did I really think I was cute, or was I just telling myself those things because these days, anything other than an obsession with every part of yourself, with every flaw, was seen as hating yourself?

  I didn't hate myself though.

  I was dope as fuck.

  I could paint, I had my own business, I was smart and funny and a good listener, a good friend. And all bullshit aside... Yeah, I was pretty.

  I just wished I didn't have a damn skin condition that affected every part of me - all the parts I couldn't hide.

  I wished this one, unfair thing that I couldn't do anything about could change.

  What was so wrong with that?

  Everything, a little voice nagged at me, despite the fact that I had the lived experience to make m
y desire to change make a hell of a lot of sense. But the thing was… it was precisely the fact that I couldn't change it that brought about the necessity of accepting it.

  Embracing it.

  Not letting my vitiligo be this thing that ruled me.

  At least not anymore.

  If I thought my hair was fucked, I could change it.

  If I had bad teeth, I could get those fixed.

  If my fashion sense was terrible, I could easily do something about that.

  My skin was something I could not alter.

  But my disdain for it was limited to myself.

  When I saw other people with their missing melanin, I never thought, “Eww,” or “Oh man, I feel so bad for them.”

  Those things never crossed my mind.

  They were beautiful exactly how God made them, and that was no platitude for me. When I saw them, I saw excellent bone structure and beautiful smiles, and brows that made me want to hit that person up and ask where they got them done. I saw hard work dedicated to fitness, and I saw beautiful love lives, and babies, and happiness when I clicked on those vitiligo support hashtags, and followed the threads online.

  So what was it going to take for me to think those same positive things about me?

  “I feel like somebody rode more than just a bike this weekend. You see that dreamy-ass look on her face?”

  “I sure do,” Anika said, her and Jules’ words pulling me fully from my musings and back into the present as she leaned against my worktable. She had a big smile on her face, and on the other side of me, Jules did too - eyebrows raised, waiting for my response.

  I shook my head. “I have no idea what you're talking about,” I lied, and they knew it, based on the way they both broke into raucous laughter.

  “I knew you wouldn't tell it, but that's okay because you, my dear, are glowing and looking incredibly moony right now,” Jules said.

  Anika nodded. “Yeah, and Jules would know plenty about that, cause that's her default state these days with Troy.”

  “Oh my God, chill,” I blushed. “I had a great time on my trip to Sugar Valley, and would highly recommend the hiking. And the Maple Lodge for all your meals. Thanks for asking.”

  “There you go, tell us to get out of your business girl,” Jules laughed. “Let us stop antagonizing you before you tell us no.”

  My eyebrows went up. “Tell you no to what?”

  “Well…” Anika said. “We wanted to see if it would be okay to have like… a little bit of a kickback? Just a few people, some wine coolers, music, board games, stuff like that. I’m asking cause I know it might get kind of loud.”

  I shrugged. “Oh girl, I know the soundproofing in this building completely sucks. It’s actually one of the things on my list of improvements for this place. But in the meantime… girl I don't care,” I laughed. “As many times as I’ve subjected y'all to Emotional Rollercoaster at three in the morning, I wouldn't dare find the nerve to have a noise complaint.”

  “Oh cool,” Anika said, clapping her hands. “Thank you. And of course, you know you're invited too. You and Raaaaf.”

  “We're invited to what?” Raf asked, suddenly appearing in the doorway.

  Instant butterflies.

  Now that part?

  That was new, seeing Raf in a way that made me feel things like this.

  He was fine though.

  Like… seriously fine.

  I could admit it to myself now, whereas before, I’d relegated him to “handsome”. The safe way I could admire his looks.

  But nah… handsome wasn't it.

  With that sculpted jaw, and warm brown eyes, and soft full lips, that little low beard, and his hair...

  He was freaking fine.

  “Somebody going to answer my question?” he asked, looking between the three of us. Anika and Jules just took on these goofy ass grins as if I'd actually admitted anything, and I was too thunderstruck by his sudden presence to answer the question.

  “Hey Mr. Superstar,” Anika spoke up, teasing him. “So, I'm going to have a little kickback at my place, and I was just telling your girl here that the two of you were invited.”

  Your girl.

  Anika thought she was slick, since the term fit my relationship with Raf either way, but her ass was digging.

  “Cool,” Raf said. “Well, we'll be there. But for now, I bought us some lunch,” he said holding up a bag.

  That just made the cousins grin bigger.

  “Oh how sweet,” Jules gushed. “He brought things for a lunch date. A little romantic picnic at the bike shop. I should’ve brought my camera!”

  Anika giggled. “We're going to let you two get to it then.”

  “I'm going to kill you,” I mouthed at Jules, while Raf’s back was turned, telling her goodbye.

  I set my face to something neutral as Raf turned back in my direction, oblivious to the kissy faces Anika and Jules were making behind him. I didn't breathe a sigh of relief until they were gone, and Raf finally approached me with that bag, pulling me into a one-armed hug that felt like a refreshing glass of water after being thirsty way too long.

  Already B, seriously? I scolded myself, knowing this exact thing had been a problem in my relationships before. I got way too attached, way too impressed, way too fast, simply because I was glad somebody was showing me some attention.

  Never mind where their interest level in me may or may not be.

  I finally learned from that, which had been just in time for that whole Aaron experience. By the time I made it to him I was in full-blown “Girl, fuck him” mode.

  But… he'd never surprised me with lunch at work.

  As a matter of fact… no one had.

  “Wash yo dirty hands,” Raf teased, as he cleared space for us on the counter, spreading out the bag like a tablecloth. I was beasting to see what was in that bag, since I hadn't caught sight of a logo. But I moved to wash my hands first instead like he asked.

  As he took everything out, I smelled the contents before I turned around. The smile the aroma brought forth… it felt like it came from all the way down in my toes. Not because the sandwich smelled that good.

  I mean it did, but it wasn't the sandwich.

  It was the thought.

  “Sliced steak, red and yellow peppers, caramelized onion, provolone, hot cherry peppers, red onion, all on buttered French bread,” Raf said, pointing to it with a flourish as I turned around. “Tomato and lettuce on the side, in case you're not really feeling those today, cause I know you don't always. Extra horseradish spread on the side too. And a big ass strawberry soda.”

  “Oh my God,” I laughed. “I haven't had one of these in a good four or five years, and I live here. How the hell did you remember this?”

  “I already told you – I’m good at this thing. I'm great actually, and this is the type of thing that just comes with the territory. Everybody ain't able,” he boasted.

  I laughed at his antics, but… he was right.

  Everybody wasn't able to remember the sandwich we’d bike all the way to the edge of the Heights for – a little deli in the part of the neighborhood we’d been expressly forbidden from going to.

  But they had the best food, and everybody treated us like family down there.

  I hadn't been that way lately because it reminded me too much of Raf, and our trips down there once a week after school, specifically for these sandwiches and this soda.

  But he went and got it.

  He remembered.

  “Thank you,” I told him, when I’d finally gathered myself enough to speak again, after my initial acknowledgment.

  “You’re welcome. It’s… the least I can do after our time together got cut short yesterday.”

  “Mmmhmm. That’s what you want to call it?” I asked, reaching for my sandwich to take a bite.

  Just as good as I remembered.

  We ate in silence for a few moments, masters at doing something else instead of fulfilling the task at hand. But of course… we
couldn’t just let it rest.

  “So… how did that thing with your parents go last night?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “I mean… you left with your parents, came back with… Ms. Black Italy. Who is she?”

  Fuck the bullshit.

  Fuck playing coy.

  This was Raf we were talking about here.

  If we were going to be together, for real, then fuck the games.

  We were grownups and there was no need to play those.

  I wouldn’t pretend I didn’t want an answer.

  Raf pushed out a sigh, as if he’d been dreading the broaching of this exact topic, but understood the inevitability of it.

  “She… was Lucia Fortini. She’s my trainer's daughter, and once upon a time, not as long ago as I'd like, I would do damn near anything she suggested. As long as she kept the pussy coming,” he said, bluntly.

  My favorite kind of way to be told the type of thing that had come out of his mouth.

  “Oh wow,” I said. “She had you like that?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “She had me like that, because she and her father wielded the two things I cared about most that weren't you, or my family. Look… I know it's not the noblest thing in the world to admit, but I don't want to sit here and lie to you about what it was. About why she's here. I've seen that shit go wrong too many times - not telling your lady something she really should know, or trying to sugarcoat shit. I've been living in the shadows, with that shit I admitted to you B. I came here because I don't want to live like that anymore.”

  “I understand,” I told him. “It's just… it’s hard to hear this, knowing what’s happened between us now. If we were still “just friends”, I'm sure I'd feel a lot different. My reaction would be different. But if you and I are supposed to be together, I'm going to be honest with you… After what you just told me, I don't want her around you.”

  I know, I know – I wasn’t supposed to say that. I wasn’t supposed to admit that the simple thought of her spiked insecurity I didn’t know I was capable of when it came to him. It was supposed to just roll off my back, or I was supposed to just swallow it, for fear of turning him away.

  I was supposed to make this comfortable for him.