Love Is Overdue

by Natalie Myrie

  But true to my nature, I decided to keep going. “It’s disgusting actually! It’s more than disgusting – it’s the creepiest, slimiest shit a guy could ever pull! To be honest, when I think about it, I would actually prefer a guy that fucks me and never calls me again because at least it’s honest…at least there’s no game…I would welcome that. Because after the game you played with me for all those fucking months, the amount of crap you spewed out…honestly…truly, Ben – it makes me sick.”

  And I was going to be sick. But I was more upset with myself in that moment for giving him the satisfaction of hearing how much he still affected me. I wanted to crawl into a hole…

  “So…yeah…thank you very much for still appreciating my beautiful smile, and I hope it helps you sleep at night, that even without the wondrous grace of your presence in my life I am – by some miracle, Ben – still able to fucking smile.”

  And I was done. I had to hand it to Ben, though. He hadn’t averted his eyes once through my entire rant.

  It seemed as if an hour or two passed by as the two of us just stood there and stared at each other in silence, but in reality it was at most a good fifteen seconds before Ben let his breath out and glanced down at the paper I’d handed him.

  “I should probably go give Tammy a call.”

  I was dumbfounded. That was it?

  “Yeah, you probably should,” I agreed with him.

  “Oh, and…about alla dat nonsense ya just go on about…you forget one thing.” His eyes were back on me again. “I actually work very hard at stayin’ away from you, Gabby…”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You can keep that…” I nodded at the paper I’d handed him.

  He sucked his teeth softly, still just staring me down. I could tell I’d upset him. It was strange. He had that same look on his face that I’d seen so many times while we were together. Indecision. And I was done with it. I had no patience for it anymore. I was suddenly more decisive than I’d ever been in my entire life.

  “You can go now.” I held his gaze firmly until he eventually gave in, turned around, and walked back out the front door.

  Ω

  My mother’s parents had pretty much disowned her after my father knocked her up. After quitting school and deciding to shack up with him in the slums of Sao Paulo while she waited for Lazaro to be born and for my father to strike it rich with his impressive “business” prospects, she had also decided to wash her hands of the rest of her family as well. She was young. She was hurt. She was pregnant and living in a one-room shack with a man who took better care of his 9 millimeter glock than making sure there was any food in the house. If I really thought about it, I couldn’t blame her for going a little crazy.

  The only person my mother had never held a grudge against for that abandonment was her older brother Fernando, who had moved to Canada long before any of the ugliness of her adolescence had sent her spinning out of control. And apparently he had felt the same way about her, and when he’d learned of the situation that she was living in with Lazaro and me, he had made it his mission to get us out of there. His wife Teresa, on the other hand, had probably seen us as more of a burden, especially once my mother’s illness began to progress as rapidly as it did, but as long as Fernando was alive, she hid it well.

  I had to be realistic. I had known it for a long time, but I was really all she had. This transition would be her final separation. I really was the last to let her go.

  “Mama, you know I’ll come see you all the time,” I assured her, as I cleared the plates from the dinner table, trying to busy myself with something – anything – as this endless silence we had been suffering through since I’d broken the news of Pine Hollows to her over dinner, was beginning to drive me crazy.

  My courage to finally break the news to her had been forced. I’d gotten news that night that not only had I been accepted for the suite I’d viewed the day I’d run into Lena, but there were also four people now lined up to view our apartment the next day. And there was no way I would be able to stroll a bunch of strangers through the house without my mother wondering what the fuck was going on…

  “They have beautiful gardens, we’ll be able to go for walks – and you won’t be trapped inside by yourself all day long while I’m working anymore. You may even meet some nice people – some friends – I went to see it last week. I think you’ll be happy there, Mama.”

  I just stopped talking. I didn’t know what to say anymore.

  Eventually her eyes focused back onto mine. “Gabriela, come sit.”

  I was confused, but it was something. I went and sat down next to her chair.

  “I know I haven’t been a good mother.”

  “Mama, stop it…”

  “No. Let me finish.”

  I waited.

  “This disease, Gabriela…what it took from me…I know this was God’s way of punishing me for my mistakes, for my selfish choices, for all the people I hurt in my life…”

  “Mama.”

  “Please, Gabriela. One day you may understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  She lifted her hand up slowly to touch my face. “Why I held you so close.” Her voice was almost a whisper.

  I didn’t understand.

  “I needed to protect you.”

  “Protect me from what?”

  “From everything,” she said then, as if it should have been completely obvious. “From the world…”

  I shook my head slowly and just sighed, having to look away. “I’m not afraid of the world, Mama.”

  “Well, you should be. But…if this is what you want, Gabriela…if you need to send me away so you can let the vultures have their way with you, then so be it.”

  I stood up. She didn’t make any fucking sense anymore.

  “What are you going to do? Move?”

  “Yes.” I went back to clearing up the dishes. Save my money, I wanted to add. Go back to school. Take a vacation. Just do something. Anything. Finally…

  But I kept those thoughts to myself.

  “Will I still be able to come visit you? Or will I be locked up there for good?” she asked me then.

  I turned to my mother. “Of course. You can always come visit for the day. As long as I can still get you in and out of a cab we’re good to go,” I assured her.

  And for some reason that seemed to relax her a little. I noticed the look of resignation finally take hold of her. Maybe even a hint of contentment. I hoped that’s what it was anyway.

  “Let’s play a game this evening. And pull out that bottle of wine.”

  I smiled at that. The relief that washed over me then was one of the most soothing feelings I had felt in quite some time. “Sure, Mama. I’ll get the board.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The crowds outside Buena Comida that night were thick. Adam’s band had a loyal following – as did Ben and his restaurant – especially on the Drive, and as it had been that night Ben and I had been to their gig a few months ago, the bar was packed – standing room only.

  The band was between sets. It was closing in on 11 pm and the DJ was spinning some old-school ska tracks – “Johnny Too Bad” by The Slickers was pounding from the speakers – as Corinne and I made are way through the crowds and over to the bar.

  “I still don’t know what I’m doing here!” I shouted at her as we waited for the bartender to take our order.

  “You’re curious!” she shouted back at me. “I would be too!”

  And she was right. After Lena had first told me I should come to their gig nearly a week and half earlier, and a few days after my run-in with Ben inside my office, the strangest things started happening. Since most musicians and artists posted their flyers all over the street posts and shop and restaurant windows on the Drive, it was not surprising that I saw the ads plastered all over the place the week leading up to the gig. But when a flyer was tossed through the mail-slot at Commercial Travel not once
, but twice in one week, I had become a little suspicious. The clincher came, however, when I found one shoved inside my apartment mailbox, squished between my internet and Visa bill.

  Then on Friday night The Dreaded Fuzion uploaded its first video in nearly two months. I was already lying in bed when I saw the email notification pop into my inbox. I had been a faithful subscriber since I’d viewed that very first episode over four months ago.

  My heart started racing as I hit play. The episode title read simply “Those Dreaded 20 Questions”. I had a feeling it wasn’t another cooking demo. I held my breath as I waited for the title sequence and opening credits to finish rolling. Then as the music cut out, the screen focused in on Ben, leaning back on a chair at what appeared to be his kitchen table. I recognized the tips of the leaves of the snake plant from the corner of the room.

  It was obvious that he was recording this episode on his own – without the assistance of his camera crew.

  He gave a little wave to the camera. “Whassup, youtube, it’s Benjamin here…thank you all for tunin’ in yet again…so yeah. First ting first, people, mi waan give a big heartfelt apology for the hiatus we been on over di past coupla months, y’know…a lot been goin’ on at the restaurant, and wit me personally so…that’s all am really gonna say about that, but…not to worry, tings gwaan get back on track soon so watch out for new episodes startin’ next week. Today, though, I wanna try somethin’ a little different, and dependin’ on the response and everythin’ this may become a regular bit on my page…we’ll see w’happen…so let’s get to it. Am takin’ your questions today…” I watched as he pulled his laptop closer, and glanced over at the screen. “In no particular order…here we go. PrincessAmy763 wants to know, ‘Can I substitute a banana for a plantain?’.” He turned back to the camera, looking a little amused, and was about to speak when he just shook his head slowly and started laughing softly in that irresistible way of his.

  The screen cut to black for a moment and then Ben was back, looking a bit more composed. “Let’s try this again,” he assured his audience. “Since this is a family show, Princess, am gonna assume you talkin’ bout cooking, and in that case, you should already know the answer is no…you cannot substitute a banana for a plantain…plantains are much firmer and have a much lower sugar content than bananas…a banana can be eaten raw but a plantain requires cooking. Remember, looks can be deceiving.” He gave the camera a little flirty wink. “Next question…Passionfruit69 wants to know…” He paused, as he glanced at the computer screen again, raised his eyebrows in surprise and then turned back to the camera, looking amused yet again. “I think we’ll skip question two…” He turned back to the screen. “Grillin’Girls wants to know, “Why do you grind your own pimentos for your jerk sauce? Can I substitute allspice instead?’ That’s a good question actually – hopefully we on the upswing now…answer…yes, you can always substitute allspice – pimentos are just allspice in its original form…reason why I grind my own pimentos is for the freshness – anytime you can grind your own spices you gonna get a more intense flavor, y’know from black peppercorns to nutmeg to cumin and coriander seeds…list goes on and on…next question…”

  I smiled to myself as I watched him in action, so relaxed and casual and straight-forward. Everything about that man oozed sex and it didn’t surprise me one bit that his inbox would be flooded with a stream of inappropriate sexually-suggestive questions. He did his best at keeping things family-friendly, only needing to shut down twice more, making me wonder if he’d even make it through or if the entire episode would turn into one giant blooper, but he patiently went through them one by one, keeping himself fairly composed in the process. I just wanted to crawl through the computer screen and curl up in his arms. I wiped a tear away as I just kept watching him. I missed him so much – I didn’t know how much more I could take…

  Suddenly, though, Sophie appeared on the screen, climbing up into Ben’s lap as he finished explaining the correct method for grilling chicken. She rested her head back against his chest. She looked so comfortable.

  “Hey…whassup little lady?” Ben addressed his daughter then.

  “What are you doing, Daddy?” she wanted to know.

  “Just answerin’ the people’s questions,” he said smoothly. “Y’have a question for me too?”

  “About what?”

  “Food.”

  She bit her lip and looked deep in thought for a good few moments. Then she turned her head back to Ben. “What’s my favourite food?” she tested him.

  “Your favourite food?” Ben repeated. “That’s easy. Curry goat.”

  Sophie made a horrified face and laughed. “No!”

  “Hmm…fried snapper an’ tamarind sauce.”

  “Ewwww.”

  “Chicken and waffles?” he tried again, it becoming obvious now that he was deliberately teasing her.

  “No!”

  “I give up.”

  “Chocolate chip cookies!” she explained, looking somewhat exasperated.

  Ben laughed softly. “Ohh…okay. Got it, baby. Actually, that’s a great Segway, Sophie, because speaking of ladies who love chocolate…that brings me to my final question of the night.” He turned back to read from the lap top. “This one here comes from youtube user TravelingBrazilianCutie27 and she wants to know if I am planning to perform with Adam and the Skapples tomorrow night at the Buena Comida Lounge, and if so, should she bother coming out to the show…” His eyes seemed to go a little wide in mock surprise. “Wow…that’s random, huh Sophie?”

  My jaw dropped in shock and if I hadn’t been lying down in my bed my knees would have buckled and I would have fallen to the ground at the mention of the youtube screen name I had signed up under the day I had first come across Ben’s videos. I sucked my breath in and just stared back at the computer screen in disbelief.

  “Actually, that’s not just a vicious rumour circling the Drive right now – I am in fact planning to sing a song or two with the band, but that all depends on the turn out.” His eyes focused back in on the camera and seemed to be looking straight at me. “So BrazilianCutie, I’ll have two tickets at the door for you tomorrow night so I hope you make it out. I’ll also extend that to the first five subscribers that send me a message tonight before I go to bed. Doors open at eight…show starts at ten…I appreciate all the love as always people, it mean a lot…Say goodnight, Sophie.”

  “Good night, Daddy!” She smiled sweetly at the camera.

  “Peace. Am out.”

  And the screen cut to black.

  Ω

  Curiosity, however, was somewhat of an understatement. As I stood at the bar with Corinne, my eyes refused to stop scanning the crowds. I was only feet away from where I stood the night I’d met Miguel, and I started experiencing some intense déjà vu.

  By some miracle or intervention of a higher power, switching the dates for my respite had been as easy as one phone call.

  “Normally, this wouldn’t work, Gabriela, but we happened to get a cancellation just this morning…”

  Maybe it was fate. But whatever it was, I was here, I thought, as the bartender handed me my Long Island iced-tea. No straight shots of tequila or any other hard liquor for me that night… I was still sober as a judge. And planning to stay that way…relatively speaking.

  I hadn’t wanted to give my name at the door to see if there really was free entrance waiting for us, but Corinne forced me to. She wasn’t paying a fifteen-dollar cover charge if she didn’t have to so I relented. And sure enough, “Gabriela” was on the list. Ben, however, was nowhere in sight.

  I spotted some members of Adam’s band hanging around a table set up right near the stage, along with many other familiar faces from the Drive, from The Rock, and the local ska/reggae scene. Then, as if out of nowhere, Lena appeared, as she was making her way from the ladies room and past the bar. The lighting and the noise level and the swarms of people all around us made it hard to see or hear much but her eyes seemed to light
up as soon as she saw me.

  “Hey Gabby – I’m glad you made it!” she shouted out over the music. She glanced over at Corinne and back at me. “You guys have a table?”

  I shook my head. “No, we just got here.”

  “I’ll see what I can do…I’ll find you in a bit!”

  And she disappeared again into the crowds.

  Corinne nudged my arm then. “Cheer up, Gabby…cheers!” She lifted her glass up toward me and I couldn’t help but smile back at her.

  And then, without any real warning, the band was up on the stage again, the DJ cut the music and as if on cue the crowd started whistling and shouting out in anticipation. I saw Adam then at the keyboards, the bassist, guitarist and drummer all tuning and gearing up for their set – the two sexy female back-up singers taking their places at their mics – and within just a few short moments they started in on a cover of Toots and the Maytals’ “Funky Kingston” to a ridiculous amount of cheering and applause.

  I strained to get a better look. Where was Ben?

  Corinne grabbed my arm then. “Come on, let’s go closer, Gab…” She began pulling me deeper into the crowds of people. But that just made things worse. I still couldn’t see a thing except for the band on stage, and Ben wasn’t there, so that was not what I was looking for.

  Eventually Corinne and I made it to the far wall and I suddenly had the table where the band had been sitting earlier in plain view. Lena was there, along with Patrick and Ben’s brother in-law Rohan. I saw Geneva then too, on her feet and winding to the music along with a couple other girls I didn’t recognize. I scanned the crowds again. Still no Ben.