by La Jill Hunt
“Why would you say that? Carpet wasn’t an option in here. It’s hardwood throughout.”
“You don’t have any rugs, so that was kind of an indication.”
“A rug. I hadn’t really thought about that.”
I took the time to explain the difference between hardwood, laminate, bamboo, linoleum, tile, vinyl, concrete, and carpet flooring choices. By the time I finished, he was actually able to make an informed decision and chose options for the entire house. He wasn’t really excited during the process, but at least he’d shown a little bit of interest, which was more than I’d expected from his previous behavior.
“I’ll get with Caldwell and let him know what you picked so we can get them installed,” I told him. As I began packing up, I saw that it was almost six o’clock, and I remembered I had to meet Var. This was shaping up to be a day of difficult men for me. “Again, I’m sorry about the mix-up, but I’m glad we were able to get it handled.”
“It wasn’t a problem.” He walked me to the front door and asked, “When you talk to my mom, can you please let her know that I picked the damn floor so she can leave me alone?”
I laughed. “Yes, and I’ll tell her that you were nice to the girl who was sitting here waiting on her as well,” I said as I headed to the elevator. I could hear him laughing as he closed the door behind him.
Chapter Sixteen
“Damn, Zen, you’re skinny as hell. Are you sick? Did you have the surgery?” Var’s eyes went from my face to my feet after he hugged me. He looked sexy as hell in his slacks and sports jacket. He wasn’t wearing a tie, and the top of his shirt was unbuttoned.
Against my better judgment, I had agreed to meet him at Doc’s, a local bar that we frequented when we were together, and one that I had purposely avoided since our breakup because it held so many memories for me.
“You’re trying to be funny.” I shook my head at him. “No, I’m not sick, and I haven’t had no surgery. And you know I ain’t skinny neither. But I have lost some weight.” I sat on the bar stool beside him.
“Naw, I’m just joking, but you look great. You’re still the most beautiful girl in the world to me.” He grinned.
I ignored his comment. “How much do I owe you for the decals?”
“Don’t be like that, Zen. You know you don’t owe me anything for them. What you want to drink?”
“Water is cool,” I told him.
It was his turn to ignore my comment, and he asked the bartender to bring me a glass of Chardonnay. The bartender brought my wine, and I sipped it while we made small talk. It felt sort of odd sitting there with Var, chatting like strangers, when just a few months ago we were picking out baby names and preparing to buy a house.
“How’s work?” he asked.
“Work is great.” I didn’t bother to elaborate.
“I can’t believe you quit to go back to working at that fabric hut,” he said.
“How did you find out I quit?” I asked him, choosing not to respond to the latter part of his statement.
“I tried emailing you at work when you weren’t answering my calls or texts. It kicked back a response saying you were no longer with the company, and I know your ass ain’t get fired, so I figured you quit. You wasn’t really feeling that place anyway, although you were making some kick-ass money,” he said.
“Everything ain’t about money, Var. Why is it so hard for you to understand that?” I sighed.
“I know that. I said that to point out the fact that you have the education and skills to be making damn near six figures because you’ve done it before, and right now, you’re not working up to your full potential. One thing we’ve always said was that no matter what, we would always be friends, Zen. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t encourage you to be the absolute best Zen that you can be?” he asked. “You would always talk about how you love and appreciate Bailey because she makes you feel like you can do anything you want: draw, sew, design, lose weight, whatever. But whenever I try, you get all defensive. Why?”
I looked at him, wondering if I should bother to explain the difference to him. After all, we weren’t a couple anymore, so why did it matter what I thought of him? Then I decided to tell him about himself. It had always hurt me how little he supported my creative dreams, so I might as well let him know it. “Because, Var, Bailey wants me to follow my heart and go after my dreams. You want me to follow a job and chase after a paycheck. There’s a difference.”
He answered me with the same argument he’d always used. “I’m all for chasing dreams, Zenobia, but the bills gotta get paid too. That’s all I’m saying. Dreams ain’t been paying the car insurance every month.”
Clearly, nothing had changed, and I was wasting my time sitting here with him. I picked up my glass and drank the rest of my wine, then stood up. “Thanks for the drink. Can I get the decals, please? I need to get home and go to bed so I can go to my dead-end job tomorrow. Oh, and I’ll start looking into getting insurance on the car as soon as possible so you don’t have to pay it anymore. As a matter of fact, why don’t you just tell me how much you want for the car? Draw up a bill of sale, and I’ll buy it from you.”
He shook his head vigorously. “I’m not selling you the damn car, Zenobia. You want it, you can have it.”
“I’ll pay you for it. Just let me know how much.” I wanted to buy the car so I could cut ties with him for good. I didn’t want him to have anything to hold over my head anymore. “For now, I need the decals so I won’t get a ticket.”
“Zen, can you please—”
“The decals,” I repeated.
“They’re in my glove compartment,” he said.
I beckoned for the bartender, and when he came over, I gave him my debit card. “Can you close out our tab?”
“Sure thing, but it’s already on his card.” He pointed to Var.
Var rolled his eyes. “Zenobia, you are really tripping.”
I ignored Var and said to the bartender, “Please put it on this one. Can you do that?”
“Zen, please stop.” Var touched my arm, which was extended toward the bartender.
“This card,” I said, this time a little louder so he knew that I meant it.
“No problem.” The bartender finally took the card from me and hurried away.
“You really gonna do this?” Var asked.
“Do what? I don’t mind paying my bill and yours too. And despite what you may think, I am able to do so. You’ve always been so damn afraid that you were gonna have to take care of me, and I never asked you to do so. I’ve always been able to take care of myself.”
“I never said you couldn’t.”
The bartender brought my card and receipt. I quickly scribbled my signature without even looking at the amount and then turned back to Var. “Can we go to your car and get the decals?”
Var got up, and we quickly walked out to his car. He got in, reached into the glove box, and took out an envelope. “Here is the new registration card and the decals. Where’s the car? I can put them on for you.”
I took the envelope from him. “Thanks. I can do it myself. Maybe you should just let me buy the car from you, Var.”
“Zen, I love you so much. I know you said you needed space to think things through, and I’ve respected that. Can’t we please just start over? I don’t care where you work. Shit, you don’t even have to get a job if you don’t want. I just want you back with me.” I swear to God his eyes looked a little wet, like he might get emotional or something.
I stared at him, seeing the familiar look of love in his eye. I missed him. That much I knew, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to give him another chance. At the moment, the only thing I was concerned with was getting the decals and leaving.
“Var.”
“At least let me take you out. Will you at least think about it?” he asked, his fingers still lingering on my hand.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Are you seeing someone else?”
&
nbsp; “What?” I was surprised he’d asked that, and I wondered what would make him think I was. Did he think I could move on as easily as he did when he screwed someone else and got her pregnant?
“I’m just saying. You looking good. You seem to be doing well. Shit, why wouldn’t you be hanging out with anybody?”
“Now you’re the one tripping,” I told him. I wished I could believe his compliments, but he was trying so hard to get me back I figured he was just laying it on thick so I’d give him another chance. Still, I couldn’t deny that it felt good to hear him saying those things about me.
“You ain’t answer the question, Zen.”
Something in the back of his car caught my eye. It was a car seat. Suddenly, the emotions came flooding back, and I remembered that my resentment toward him really wasn’t about money, it was because he now had a baby, and it wasn’t mine.
“Please, Zen.”
“I see you’ve been spending time with your daughter,” I said as I pulled away from him.
He realized what I’d seen and quickly spit out, “I love you, Zen.”
I didn’t say anything else as I walked away and got into what was still his car.
Chapter Seventeen
A week later, we were waiting for the flooring Josh had selected to come in. It was on back order, so it was taking a little longer than I had anticipated. I had chosen a couple of paint samples and was meeting the painter at the house to do an estimate. When we got there, we expected to find Caldwell waiting for us, but he wasn’t there.
“Have you talked to him?” I asked the guy.
“I talked to him yesterday. He told me to meet him here at three.”
I tried calling Caldwell again, but there was no answer. I sent him a text. We waited another fifteen minutes, but there was still no response.
“Maybe something happened to his phone,” I suggested.
“That don’t have nothing to do with him not being here,” the painter said. “And I have another appointment this afternoon. You don’t have a key?”
I wanted to say, “Do you think we’d be standing out here if I had a key?” but instead, I kept my professional face on and just said, “No, I don’t.”
“Well, I can’t get back out here until the end of next week sometime, and if I get another—”
“Wait, give me a sec. Let me make another call right quick,” I told him.
I dialed Georgette’s number, but her phone went straight to voice mail. Desperate to find a way into the house so the painter wouldn’t disappear, I took a chance and called Josh.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Josh. It’s Zen,” I said. “Have you talked to Caldwell today by chance?”
“No, I haven’t. Sorry.”
I could tell Mr. Man-of-a-Few-Words was about to hang up, so I quickly asked, “Are you busy right now?”
“Uh, yeah. Kinda.”
“Listen, I’m over at the house with the painter. Caldwell told us to meet him here at three, and he isn’t here, and we can’t reach him on his phone. Is it possible for you to come and let us in so he can get the measurements done?”
“I . . . uh . . .” Josh began mumbling.
“I can come and get the key from you or meet you somewhere to make it easier if you’d like. If we don’t get this done today, it may push us behind schedule, and I know how getting this finished as soon as possible is important to you. I called your mom first, and she didn’t answer, which is the only reason I reached out to you. We just need to get in the house, that’s all,” I explained hurriedly, in case he didn’t already understand that he was the last person I wanted to call for assistance.
He was so quiet that I thought he had hung up. I was about to do the same when I heard him say, “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I told the painter that Josh was on his way, and I tried reaching Caldwell again, but there was still no answer. My concern grew. I called several more times before Josh’s silver Infinity SUV pulled into the driveway. I rushed over before Josh even opened his door to get out.
“Thanks,” I said, reaching for the keys. “I can unlock the door and bring them right back, and you can be on your way.”
He looked kind of surprised by my anxiousness, but he handed me a keyring. I took it, waved for the painter, and we went inside. I walked around and saw the work that Caldwell had begun doing. The place looked nicer already, and I couldn’t wait until the real work began.
The painter took out a notepad and a tape measure. I stood watching him for a few minutes, until I remembered Josh sitting outside, and rushed back to give him his keys.
“Thanks again,” I told him.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yep, everything’s fine.” Rather than stand around and make small talk, I quickly said good-bye and headed to my car.
I took out a box with a can of paint samples and a few brushes and carried it inside. The walls had all been repaired and primed, but we had agreed not to start painting until the new floors had been laid. I popped the cans open and used the brushes to paint a line of each color, then stood back to see which one looked best. I closed my eyes and folded my arms, trying to envision the entire living room with each color on the wall.
“Are you praying?”
I jumped, startled by Josh, who I hadn’t heard come inside. “ Jesus, you scared the mess outta me.”
“My mama said if you jump when someone enters a room, you must be doing something you ain’t got no business doing.” He smirked. He was dressed a little fancier than the last time we saw one another, wearing a pair of jeans and a nice green, collared shirt. He also had on a pair of the nicest leather shoes I had ever seen, which said a lot, since Var’s shoe game had always been on point.
“Well, I’m doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. And no, I’m not praying. I’m envisioning.”
He walked closer and stood beside me, looking at the wall I was pointing to. “Are you gonna make the walls striped?” he asked, not even joking.
“No, they’re not gonna be striped, but these are the colors I think will look best down here. You chose light-colored floors, so I think we should go with warmer-toned walls,” I said.
“Oh.” He continued staring at the stripes.
“Look at the colors and then close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Close your eyes,” I said. He shook his head, but I insisted. “Close your eyes. My God, getting you to do something is like pulling teeth, I swear.”
He finally closed his eyes. I waited a few moments, then softly said, “Now imagine that you’re standing on the floors you picked.”
“Okay,” he said. His eyes started blinking a bit.
“Don’t open your eyes. Keep them closed. Now, think about the three stripes, and then the walls painted one of those colors that make you feel at home.” My voice remained calm and soft. “Which one do you feel the most?”
“The one in the middle; the kinda brown one,” he said then opened his eyes.
“You sure? What about the burnt orange one?”
“Nah, that’s gonna make the room look dim all the time. I like the lighter color better,” he said.
“Excellent choice. Actually, that’s the one I like too.” I smiled. “See, you picked a wall color. And you had an opinion.”
“I guess.” He shrugged.
“Was there a reason you came inside? Did you need anything?” I asked him.
“Oh, yeah, there was.” He held out a slip of paper, which he had been holding, “You dropped this when you went in your trunk. I didn’t know if it was important or you needed it.”
I took the paper, which turned out to be an old receipt from one of my OB/GYN appointments. Seeing it made me feel like the wind had been knocked out of me, and I swallowed the knot that had formed in my throat.
“Thanks.” My voice cracked a little, and I crumpled the paper in my hand.
“Are you okay?” He looked concerned.
“
Yes, I’m fine,” I assured him. “It wasn’t important, but thanks anyway.”
The painter came down the stairs and said, “Okay, I’m all done. I tried calling Caldwell, but he ain’t answer. If you talk to him, tell him I got the numbers for him.”
“Great. I’m thinking something is just going on with his phone because he always either answers or at least responds to my texts,” I said.
“A’ight, just let me know.” He waved before walking out.
“I hope he’s okay, for real,” I said, putting the tops back on the paint samples and placing the brushes on a piece of plastic.
“You all done here?”
“Yeah.”
When we walked out and made sure the house was locked up, I turned around and stared back at it for a moment.
“Are you envisioning again? This time with your eyes open?” Josh asked sarcastically.
“Actually, I am.” I laughed.
“Now what? Picking out a roof color?”
“Nope, shutters and garage door,” I told him.
“Huh?”
“Gotta pick a color for the new garage door and the shutters.”
“Garage door?”
“Yeah, I know you see that dented door,” I joked.
“Damn, I hadn’t even really noticed that.” He folded his arms. “It does need a new garage door. How the hell did that even happen?”
I walked over and took a closer look at the dent. “It looks like someone might’ve hit it with a car.”
Josh shook his head and said, “I don’t understand why my mother can’t see that this house is just one headache after another. This is pointless.”
“I don’t think these are headaches. It’s just home repairs. Do you see how amazing this place is? And you must know, because it’s the first home you bought. You lived here yourself.”
“That was a long time ago.” Josh stared at the house for a second, and it was like a dark cloud passed over his face. He said, “I got somewhere to be in a little while. You good?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks again.”
We both walked back to our vehicles. I turned around and saw him staring at the house one more time before getting into his SUV and pulling off.