by Elaine Allen
We fit, sealed tight to one another. We lay like this until I fall asleep, the past colliding with the present mingled in lust, love, decidedly afraid of what tomorrow could bring.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Carter
A confident smile splays across her lips. Alieas looks deliciously tired from being ravaged all night, into the wee early morning hours. I might be too old to be dishing out this much dick.
Shiiiiid, of course, I’m not.
I imagine one of those whimsical images of sunlight beaming through white sheets and her smiling and rolling all around trying to free herself. I could kiss her awake. My heart tightens as I realize that I’ve missed this. Watching her sleep. Arousing her into consciousness with my subtle touches.
Stretching her arms wide, she let out an enormous yawn then instinctively rolls into me, still rousing herself from sleep. Long lashes flicker slowly as she blinks, honey eyes sleepily focusing on my face. A slow smile spreads across her lips.
“Good Morning,” I drawl, reaching out to gather her close. She still sleeps wild as hell, arms and legs everywhere.
She covers her mouth and mumbles the same. I figure she must be nervous about her morning breath. It’s funny that I’ve had my tongue over every inch off her caramel skin and she's concerned about morning breath.
She always wakes up looking flawless. I recall watching an episode of A Different World when Whitley got all primed and pampered before Dwayne had woken up, and Lieas revealed that she made a practice of doing the same thing. Thought it was funny as shit. It was a long night, and I wasn't letting her out of my sight.
Her body is all warm and soft; I could just melt into her, and the last thing I want to do is let go. If I get out of this bed, the moment is over. But I gotta get up to take Mira to school and then get on with the rest of my day. My mind runs through everything on my agenda, yet all I wanna do is lay here with her. I love the feel of her in my arms as I tighten my hold on her, caressing her back with long, sensuous strokes.
“I gotta go, Lieas,” I whisper into her hair. “I don’t want to, though.” I squeeze her again, hoping to share this sudden need I have for her inside of me.
Alieas rubs my chest before burying her face into it. “I know.”
But neither of us make a single motion to untangle ourselves. She kisses my chest and sighs like she's resigned to our inevitable parting.
“But first things first. What are we gonna be to each other?” I inquire, lifting her face to mine.
“I guess we kinda skipped over that part of the discussion,” she responds absently.
Pillow talk between the hours of lovemaking helped us piece together our decade apart. I'm impressed with the woman she has become. There is no surprise that she owns a business or that she writes. She has always loved words. I was surprised that she’d given up on real estate altogether, she used to enjoy it. We had even talked about doing some projects together back then. She’s a mentor to high students and runs a literacy project to get the adults of Baltimore and D.C. reading. Knowledge of her endeavors only serves to drive my desire to new heights. I want her. Have wanted her since I read My First Love.
“Alieas,” I breathe her name, hoping to pierce her heart, just wide enough to allow me in. I take a deep breath and then— and then, I lay all my cards on the table.
I have no time. “I meant what I said. I want it all.”
I need to slow down, put on the breaks. There is so much to work out. So much to discuss before there can be an “us”. And yet, right this moment, all I want is for there to be an “us”.
“Carter. I don’t know how it’s gonna work, but I want you too.”
Feeling the uncertainty, I kiss her forehead and sigh. My muscles relax beneath her touch. “We can start with that. Come to dinner tonight so you can see Mira. Have dinner… Stay.”
Always...
“Okay,” she agrees, her smile ridiculously wide.
She leans in to kiss me. Our mouths and tongues tangle, the mounting heat fuses and transfer from her body and into mine.
“You better go,” she reminds me as more than the heat rises and my dick comes to stand at attention. Alieas makes a suggestive smirk, and her hands begin to message him.
Closing my eyes, I roll over onto my back and let out a jagged breath. “Aaah. Yes. Babe, yes,” I breathe as she shifts her weight and her mouth joins her hands.
Full, pouty lips caress and tease the tip before drawing my entire shaft into her mouth.
Damn. Her mouth is all heated up, dripping wet like I remember her pussy being when I hit it raw. She glances up, allowing my rod to slip from between the warmth of her lips. “Shit, babe,” I hiss as the air turns my dick cold. She grins and nibbles on her bottom up. I rock my hips in invitation. Quick to oblige, she takes my throbbing member back into her mouth. A patient hand cups my balls and lightly squeezes. My mind soars as she licks and flicks her tongue from the base to the tip, making love to it, mouth sliding sloppily up and down slowly and then faster. Pushing my knee aside, her tongue traces a line from my balls to the tip, taking it lower and lightly licking the space between my balls and my ass. I clench my ass cheeks when she blows air on my hole, unsure if she was going to lick it. Alieas chuckles and then returns to the original task at hand.
My hands grip her hair as she masterfully deep throats my dick like no one else has ever. “Fuuuuuuck,” I curse as the beginnings of my orgasm build.
I want to be deep inside of her when I do, so I pull her up and push her into the mattress. I silence her with a kiss when she protests. I know she wants to continue giving oral until I bust but I want to be inside of her. “After this,” I let her know, climbing between her thighs. A pleasured moan escapes as I bury myself inside her. Heat surrounds me, pulling me in. Running her hands over the bulging muscles from my shoulders to my back as I turn her inside out, stroke after long delicious stroke.
Alieas comes, screaming my name at six -forty-three a.m.
Twenty-Eight
Monday
Alieas
I slept for about another four hours after Carter left and awakened to my phone being completely dead. I had never gotten around to charging it. I plugged it in then went to the bathroom to take a shower.
Brain cells fried, body sore, limbs limp, I survey myself in the mirror. It’s all over my face that I had been thoroughly loved, masterfully manhandled, and left to my own devices until we could have a repeat performance. The remnants of our fiery reunion are still evident in my eyes, traces of lust still lingering in my gaze. The heat of our passion displayed in faint rosy cheeks and pouty full lips. My hair is completely sweated out and all curly at the roots.
And I don't give a damn.
I bite my lip in satisfaction and begin brushing my teeth. Dreamily, hop into the shower and I wash up. I spend like fifteen minutes under the steaming water recapping the night and dreaming up the future.
Like a lovesick fool, I’m already writing a book about second chances. This is the “me” that I hate. The “get some good dick and start fantasizing about the future” me. Hadn’t she led me astray several times before?
But this is so much more. This is my second chance. I said I was ready and God listened. I have to be smart enough to recognize it.
I hop out of the shower and race over to my phone. I wanna check to see if he texted me already. I turn it on and then set it down as I lotion up.
As soon as it powered up, I could hear my notifications going off like crazy. There are three voicemails and the rest are texts. I count at least ten before I decide to check them. I pull my sports bra over my head and dance into my panties.
I pick up the phone, and I can see the banner. I’ve missed messages from my mom, Nesh, Gray, Tyree, and Carter. Holding my breath, I open the one from my mom.
Mom: Lieas, where are you? Your phone keeps going right to voicemail.
Carter: Just know you locked down now. Enjoy your day, beautiful.
Til later.
Nesha: So, were you dessert?
Tiff: And you know she was. Enjoy Boo, xoxo.
Gray: Lieas your phone keep going to vmail. Pick up. Another one came in five minutes later: Yo. Lieas pick up.
Tyree: Alieas, call me as soon as you get this text. We been trying to reach you all morning.
I frown at the message. It came in at eight- forty this morning. My heart drops into my feet as my once-happy thoughts plummet into uncertainty. I can't explain the clashing emotions screaming that something has to be wrong versus more optimistic ones rationalizing that it’s nothing.
I shake my head as I contemplate who to call first and fate intervened and said, we don't have time for that. As I was about to make the call, it rang in my hand instead.
Tyree’s name and picture collages of him, Bri, and the kids pop up. I clear my throat and slide my finger across the screen to accept. “Hey. I was just about to call you back,” I let out. My heart had formed its way up to a lump in my throat. It hurts. That dry ache when you know that it’s something bad.
“Aunt Nic on her way to your hotel so y’all can meet me and Gray at the hospital.”
I nod my head. The lump dissipates into that unexplainable hurting fog. “Is he okay?” I struggle to get the words out.
There is a deafening silence as I listen for the words my heart already knows. “No. He’s not,” his voice breaks a little. “He’s gone. This morning.”
Then I break. “Nooooo!” I grumble. “No… No. No.” I double over, barely able to keep the phone against my ear. “He was fine when I left,” I add in an unintelligible mumble. I shake my head and slip to the floor. Only eighteen hours ago, he had a weak smile as he asked me to stay a little while longer. As I left, I assured him that I would be back. That we'd have enough time.
“If you want to see him before they take him down, you gotta come up. Let me call Aunt Nic. Hold on.”
He places me on hold to call my mom as I attempt to make sense of the fact that my dad is dead. I drop the phone onto the floor, and I just sit here crying. The tears stream like an endless waterfall down my cheeks. The pain throbbing in my chest feels like a bullet wound, radiating, expanding as the tears absolve into racking sobs. Then I’m numb.
I can’t be sure how many seconds or minutes pass before my phone rings again. I don't answer. At this point, what else is there to say?
As I cry my eyes out, the phone rings again. This time, it is accompanied by a hard rapt on the door.
“Alieas. Alieas, open the door, baby!” my mom's voice booms from the other side.
I open the door, and I can see that she has been crying from the tear streaks that marked her cheeks. “You knew he was sick? And you didn’t tell me.” I accuse, letting her into the room.
Strong, slender arms gather me up and pull me into a hug. “Get your clothes on so you can see him.”
Twenty-Nine
Alieas
The ride to the hospital is silent except for the humdrum antics of the mid-morning disc jockey on WDAS. My mom keeps reaching over to squeeze my hand. The closer we drove to Center City, the more it hurts. As we approach Tenth St., I close my eyes and pray that this is some horrible nightmare and I’m gonna wake up any minute, ten years in the past.
I open my eyes as we pull up at the valet. My mom jumps out the car but not me. I stay seated. I need a moment or sixty-thousand more moments before I am willing to admit that this is real.
“Miss? Miss?” the valet speaks.
My mom has her phone against her ear when she opens my door. “We're at the front on the Tenth St. side. Come get your sister, Gray. She won’t get out of the car.”
Everything gets foggy and my mind distances itself from the rest of my body. Maybe I'm dead too, still laying crouched down on the floor of my hotel room passed out from a heart attack after hearing the news.
“Alieas.” I can hear Gray calling me. His voice sounds like a distant murmur as my mind wanders incoherently. I feel his hand grab my arm and tug me until I'm out of the car. Then I’m walking aimlessly behind my mother as she leads us through the bright corridors of the hospital.
I lag further behind, feet shuffling, dragging, and sniffling my way into the elevator. My brother hugs me and pulls me into him. He's crying too. I haven't seen Gray cry in years. I think the last time was Ayesha’s birth when Nesha almost died from childbirth complications.
“I'm glad he saw you,” he whispers into my ear. “He missed you, sis."
The elevator stops and we step off. My aunts, uncles, and a cousin on my dad’s side are all standing in the hallway near the waiting room as we approach. I see Bri and Nesha, Tiff standing near the doorway talking.
Mournful eyes meet sorrowful ones. The small measure of composure I have left dissolves when they surround me in a chain of love. Somehow strengthened from their hug, I walk closer to the doorway and I pause. Afraid to go in.
The privacy curtain is pulled halfway closed to conceal his body so I can only make out the silhouette. Gray nudges me further into the room. Approaching quietly, I notice Tyree holding my dad's hand, his eyes closed, head bowed in prayer.
My heart beats painfully for him. He was the first of us to forgive my dad. He’s hurting and that rips my heart to shreds. My dad was the only father he ever knew, and he’d lost him too.
Reaching for his hand, I cover my father’s lifeless body with my own. I shake my head against his unmoving chest, muttering apologizes for turning my back on him. I cry over missed time. I cry over things that haven’t happened yet. Things that I'll never experience. Things never said.
Firm hands are messaging my back, and Tyree’s hand covers mine and just squeezes. I cough and cry.
Cry and scream…
Cry and think. Holding on. Praying…
“Daddy, what about our second chance?” I sob.
No response. No breath. No heartbeat.
No response. No breath. No heartbeat.
Except for mine.
I lay there until Gray pries me away. I don’t know how long I lay here, but it’s obviously time to take my dad to wherever it is that dead people go. So that we can plan a funeral, a final goodbye.
I need to walk and get some fresh air. I step out into the hall, at which point my friends come back to me. I shake my head as I push my arms out into the air. I can’t speak, but Nesha reads my mind. “You wanna go outside for a minute?”
Nodding, I agree. I look up and see Ms. Shelia, standing off to the side, doing the same thing as everyone else— sobbing. Moaning. Grieving. Closing the distance, I embrace her. She was here when I left yesterday. I’m not sure if she ever even left his side. She holds on to me as she unleashes to her heart’s content in heart-wrenching sobs.
“Carter.” I hear his name. Turning my attention to the voice, I damn near swallow my tongue. Deidra is standing beside Ms. Shelia, and I watch as she runs to him.
His eyes are on mine, though, as he advances past her and toward me. “Why didn’t you call me?” he demands.
Common sense doesn’t prevail in times of trauma. My mind is no different. “You fucking came up here for her?” I ask, advancing toward him, “knowing I would be here?”
Nesha steps up to me. “Alieas, calm down!” she exclaims.
“And what the fuck is she doing here anyway?!” I yell accusingly at my relatives.
“She’s my sister,” Ms. Shelia speaks up.
“Babe,” Carter says, gripping my arms. “Calm down. I came as soon as I heard,” he finishes.
“Babe?” Deidra repeats. “Carter, what is going on? Can we speak in private, please?”
His eyes are still on mine. It was almost as if he was asking for permission even though I could read the clear frustration in his eyes. I hold my palms up in the air and step back. I circle around them both and run down the corridor.
I could hear Bri and Tiff calling behind me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Carter
I had to talk myself down. My mind racing, I was fucking livid, driving like a madman to make it here. Truthfully, I was angry because I wasn't the person she called but I wanted to be.
I know that ache that came with a loss. And I didn't want her to experience that alone. Pangs of remembrance stab at me as I think of it. My father died from prostate cancer five years ago, and I miss him every day. I miss his easy smile, his patience, his counsel. I just miss his presence.
The familiar weight bearing down, crushing your heart, I know. I didn’t want that for her, so I came without giving a moment of thought that she'd question how or why. I wanted my presence and know that I was here for her.
Now that I had a moment to process what happened, I can't determine if Deidra had done it to be smart, extra, messy, or just in the damn way.
I shake Gray's hand and give him my condolences then I do the same for Ms. Nicole. Even though they're divorced, the last time I saw Ms. Nicole, she was still married to Mr. Stiles, and ten years apart doesn't erase damn near thirty years of marriage.
Reluctant, I turn to Shelia and take her into my arms. She and Mr. Stiles had been dating for about nine months. She grips me hard as she sheds tears. She gathers her composure and kind of passes me over toward Deidra.
“Exactly why did you call me?” I'm happy that she did, but my Spidey senses were telling me that it wasn’t because of some instinctive need to be held or consoled. While Deidra and her sister were close, they were more than twelve years apart. Their relationship, from my point of view, had always been more mother/daughter, but Deidre was not close to Mr. Stiles. “You knew I would come because of her,” I surmise.