Comfort of a Man (Arabesque)

by Byrd, Adrianne

  She lifted her chin. “I told you in New York that a relationship was impossible.”

  “So you did. Foolish of me for expecting at least a goodbye.”

  A wave of shame caught Brooklyn off guard. Who knew there was proper etiquette for one-night stands? “Isaiah—”

  Flashing blue and white lights stole her attention and simultaneously brought her back to reality. What did it matter the man’s feelings were bruised? She hadn’t lied to him.

  In the minutes that followed, the couple gave their statements, presented their cards, and for the most part behaved as though they were strangers.

  Brooklyn swallowed a lump of dread as she accepted the ticket for the cause of the accident. From behind the driver’s wheel, she watched as Isaiah returned to his car.

  The officer was the first to pull away from the scene while Isaiah and Brooklyn simply stared at each other through the Mercedes’s side mirror.

  Isaiah knew he needed to go. His lingering on the side of the road was inexcusable, yet, at the same time, he couldn’t understand the flutter of hope in his chest. For six months he’d prayed for the opportunity to see Brooklyn again and here she was—about to walk out of his life for the second time.

  He started the car and took a deep breath. He would be the one to leave this time. If they were meant to be together, then their paths would cross again, right? Forcing himself to break eye contact, he pulled out of the emergency lane and merged into traffic, tossing his hopes for another chance with Brooklyn up to fate.

  Chapter 8

  Brooklyn’s day got worse. Mr. Parris was a no-show at their rescheduled appointment. There was nothing like a dose of her own medicine to ease the taste of her pride. She hadn’t sold a house in almost two months and now she feared being able to make her own mortgage payment next month.

  For a quick pick-me-up, she called the one person she knew could lift her spirits.

  “Toni, can you meet me at Sammy’s? I need a drink.”

  Concern edged Toni’s voice. “This sounds serious.”

  “It’s past serious and riding the line of critical.”

  At Sammy’s, Toni’s concern intensified as she stared at Brooklyn. “Okay. I’m all ears,” she said, stabbing her salad.

  Brooklyn drew in a deep breath while her brain flailed for a beginning to her story. “I ran into Isaiah today—literally.”

  The name didn’t ring any bells for Toni and she stared at her friend, expecting and needing more information.

  “Isaiah,” Brooklyn said again, shocked that her friend didn’t catch on immediately. “From New York.”

  Recognition dawned on Toni and her eyes lit like the Macy’s Christmas tree at Herald Square. “You’re kidding me. How? When? Where? Are you going to sleep with him again?”

  Brooklyn sighed and shook her head. “I rammed into him on the highway this morning—if you can believe it. And no. I’m not going to sleep with him again. The word again defies the definition of a one-night stand.”

  “A one-night stand was baby steps, remember? You’re ready for the next step.”

  “The next step?”

  Toni nodded and leaned in. “A fling. Not just any fling, but the toe-curling, skin-tingling kind.”

  Brooklyn recoiled despite being intrigued by her friend’s blunt statement and despite her forthcoming protests. “I can’t have a fling with that man,” she hissed, glancing to ensure no one overheard them.

  Toni laughed. “And why not? You already slept with him. A fling just means you continue to sleep with him. What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal is…” Brooklyn drew in another breath, while struggling for the right words. “The big deal is…” She shook her head, unable to complete the sentence.

  “Yes? I’m waiting,” Toni said, cupping her ear.

  “A fling is a notch below a relationship,” Brooklyn finally managed to say.

  “You’re reaching into left field, don’t you think?”

  She didn’t answer. Instead she stabbed her own fork into her salad as though the act would somehow alleviate her frustration. In truth, she did want to see Isaiah again.

  “I don’t know why he’s here,” Brooklyn mumbled.

  “So find out.”

  “After the way I treated him this morning, I doubt I’m on the top of his Christmas list.” Brooklyn moaned as she thought back to their chance encounter. “I was rude to him.”

  “So apologize.”

  Brooklyn met Toni’s gaze. “Do you ever run out of answers?”

  “I haven’t yet. Do you ever run out of excuses?”

  “I haven’t yet.”

  The women laughed and continued to eat their meal of soup and salad. Whenever their gazes met, smiles fluttered weakly at their lips.

  “Well?” Toni asked after a full fifteen minutes had passed.

  Brooklyn gave her a farcical look of confusion.

  “Are you going to find him?”

  She shook her head. “Definitely not,” she said with conviction. “Besides, I wouldn’t know how.” When she glanced up, she didn’t like Toni’s smug expression.

  “Well, there’s always the accident report.”

  “Are you sure your last name isn’t Colombo?”

  “There’s also the internet and your best friend, c’est moi, who has connections with people with questionable reputations.”

  “Should I be worrying about you?”

  Toni shrugged off her concern. “It never hurts for a woman to have connections. You’ll do good to remember that. I even think I know someone to set your ex-husband straight.”

  “Let’s not forget Macy in this dream vendetta.”

  “Who’s dreaming?” Toni laughed.

  Brooklyn could only manage a butterfly smile. “I was pretty snotty to him.”

  “Then flash him your twin peaks and I bet he’ll be willing to forget all about it. Trust me.”

  Brooklyn considered it. Not only was the man great looking, he was quite simply the best she’d ever had in bed.

  Toni laughed. “Frankly, I don’t think you have it in you.”

  Brooklyn rolled her eyes. “Please tell me you’re not trying to dare me into having a fling. That’s juvenile.”

  “Why not? We dared you into a one-night stand, didn’t we?”

  More crow pie, Brooklyn realized. “You know, I thought once you were an adult, you didn’t have to put up with peer pressure.”

  Toni held up her hands. “What pressure? I’m just giving you some friendly advice. When you first returned from New York, you were a changed woman. You were singing and being optimistic about everything. Hell, even Evan and Jaleel weren’t getting on your nerves.”

  Incredulous, Brooklyn’s mouth rounded.

  “What? It’s true. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

  “I’ve just been under a lot of stress.”

  “And sex is the best stress reliever.”

  Once again, Brooklyn fell silent, but secretly she agreed with her friend. Isaiah had performed wonders on her stress level. She did remember not being bothered by the news of Evan and Macy’s outlandish behavior at one of their old friend’s New Year’s Eve parties. In fact her response had been “who cares?”

  “Sex is a great stress reliever,” she agreed.

  “My point exactly,” Toni said, smiling.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t say I was going to do it. I mean, it takes two to tango and after what happened this morning, I seriously doubt—”

  “More excuses.” Toni shook her head. “If your night with him was half as good as you let on, then you’ll have no trouble getting that man back into your bed. Trust me.”

  Brooklyn pondered the situation over again.

  “Now what are you thinking about?” Toni asked.

  “I wonder what was the emergency he had to get to this afternoon.”

  In a private room in Gwinnett Hospital, Isaiah sat beside his mother’s bed, holding her hand as he waited for
her to wake up. He’d never seen her look so vulnerable—so fragile. As much as he wanted to grab her and hold on to her, such an act looked as though it could break her. His lack of sleep in the past twenty-four hours took its toll and he could feel his eyelids grow heavy with each beep of the heart monitor.

  When he’d first arrived, the seriousness of his mother’s condition hit him like a ton of bricks and he’d vowed to start taking better care of her.

  The doctor believed his mother would make a full recovery. It’d helped that she had always taken excellent care of her health, but the fact that she still had a stroke unnerved him.

  Isaiah massaged his mother’s knuckles with his thumb, trying to get used to the concept that for the first time in his life, he had to step into the role of being the nurturer. They were big shoes to fill and he was already feeling inept.

  As he continued to sit there, his guilt held up a large mirror and he discovered a long list of reasons as to how and why he’d played a big part in what happened. Surely he could call more than twice a month, he could visit more than just on Thanksgiving.

  In no time, Isaiah’s eyes drifted closed and a kaleidoscope of memories and pictures filled his head. Within all that clutter, he couldn’t find one snapshot of his mother crying or brooding. She was the kind of mother who had shouldered pressure and stress with a smile, and banished financial troubles with a dynamic show of ease. In fact, it wasn’t until Isaiah prepared for college that he found out about their dire financial position.

  Georgia Washington was quite simply the strongest woman Isaiah had ever known, and if anyone could survive this ordeal, it would be her.

  Among the moving pictures of memory, Isaiah had trouble finding one of his father. He was killed by a drunk driver when Isaiah was four. However, his mother made sure to tell heroic stories of his father throughout his life. Melvin Washington was honest to a fault, loyal to those he called friend, and loving to all who loved him. Yes, Melvin Washington, a city bus driver, was every bit a hero—and a man Isaiah tried to emulate.

  Isaiah’s head pitched forward, the falling sensation woke him up in an instant, and he jerked his head back erect. His gaze swept over to his mother and he was startled to see her smiling at him.

  Georgia licked her lips and spoke slowly. “You look like hell.”

  Isaiah laughed. “Well, you’ve never looked more beautiful to me.”

  A weak chuckle escaped her ashen lips. “You should never lie to your mother.” She winced.

  Isaiah released his hold on her hand and stood up to reach for the pitcher of water beside the bed. “Here, let me pour you some water.”

  It took a few minutes to adjust the upper half of the hospital bed before he could hold the small plastic cup to her lips.

  She took small sips and savored every drop. When she’d had enough, Isaiah removed the cup and busied himself with trying to make her as comfortable as possible.

  The door swooshed open and Dr. Ramsey rushed in. “Ah, Sleeping Beauty has awakened,” he joked.

  Georgia laughed. “Paul, you’re too young to be trying to turn an old lady’s head,” she rasped.

  The doctor’s laughter mingled with hers as he winked back. “Now, Georgie, you know how I feel about older women.”

  Isaiah frowned. Georgie? Older women? He glanced between the two obvious friends and judged the two to be very close in age.

  “Maybe I should step out and leave you two alone,” Isaiah joked.

  They laughed.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Dr. Ramsey assured him as he checked Georgia’s vitals. “You gave us quite a scare.”

  “You know me. I always have to be the center of attention.”

  Isaiah stared at his mother. His mother was flirting—actually flirting.

  When the two friends finished their playful teasing, everyone became serious and discussed the problem at hand. Dr. Ramsey spared them the doctor’s square dance. Georgia’s stroke was as quick as it was mysterious. Ramsey had no answers as to what might have induced it, which made him hesitate to prescribe or recommend anything other than rest and relaxation.

  Georgia would stay a few days in the hospital for more tests, but mainly for observation.

  She nodded weakly, but her eyes still held a soft twinkle.

  “Well, I guess I’ll leave you so you can get some rest,” Ramsey said, backing toward the door. “Mr. Washington, do you mind if I speak with you out in the hall for a few minutes?”

  Isaiah glanced at his mother. Her exhaustion was clear as she’d already drifted back to sleep.

  “Of course, Doctor.” He leaned down and kissed his mother’s forehead and whispered, “I’ll be right back.” He followed Ramsey out into the hallway. Once the room’s door closed behind them, Ramsey turned toward him with a troubled look.

  “I just want to speak with you for a few minutes—as your mother’s friend and not her physician.”

  The statement surprised Isaiah, but he nodded, more than a little curious at what Ramsey had to say.

  “Will you be staying in Atlanta long?”

  Isaiah blinked, but nodded again. “As long as it takes. Why?”

  “I think your mother would enjoy having you around for a while—more than the customary two-day Thanksgiving visit, that is.”

  The comment hit Isaiah like a Holyfield punch. “Has my mother said something to you?” he asked, trying his best to recover.

  “Not in so many words. But personally, I think she misses you, despite having a wealth of friends. Sometimes there’s nothing like having family around you—you know what I mean?”

  Again Isaiah nodded and then flinched when the doctor slapped him hard on the shoulder.

  “Good. I thought that you might.” Ramsey pounded him on the back and then left him thoroughly chastised for neglecting his duties as a son.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Isaiah turned to reenter his mother’s room.

  “Isaiah?”

  Surprised to hear his name being called from behind him, he stopped. “Yes?” His gaze landed on a beautiful blonde with twinkling green eyes.

  “I don’t believe it,” she gushed, rushing over to him.

  Recognition finally dawned on him and a broad smile came into place. "Macy Patterson, what are you doing here?"

  Chapter 9

  Sunday morning church service was just what Brooklyn needed. Jaleel performed a beautiful solo with the choir, the preacher’s sermon made her suspect her house had been wired, and Sister Loretha approached her again with promises that she’d found the perfect man for Brooklyn.

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” Brooklyn said in her kindest voice, but knew from experience Loretha would press the issue until she’d left to go home. Actually, this happened everywhere Brooklyn went. Everyone she knew seemed to hold the same belief that she was miserable without a man. Though she willingly admitted companionship would be nice and sex would be better, she wouldn’t quite say that she was miserable without either.

  “Sister Brooklyn.” Freddie Wyatt, an old friend of Evan’s, approached her with outstretched arms.

  She turned as her smile struggled to appear through her stony expression. “Freddie.” She allowed him to engulf her in his large embrace. He was known in the community as Big Freddie, mainly because he was just that—a six-foot-four-inch brother who easily tipped the scales at four hundred pounds. However, Brooklyn called him Big Trouble because that was what he loved to start.

  “How have you been?” she asked, stepping back from his embrace, but somehow managing to keep a smile in place. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.”

  “You know me.” He shrugged. “I can’t complain.”

  Don’t I wish that was true.

  “You know I been meaning to tell you how deeply sorry I am about you and Evan’s breakup. I can’t imagine what could have gotten into that man, choosing some white girl over a fine sista like you. Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he said, shaking his head.

  Brooklyn shoul
d have been better prepared for that sucker punch. “Well, there’s no sense in crying over spilled milk. What’s done is done.”

  “I mean—I know Macy is fine and all, but still.” He continued shaking his head. “Now, me personally, if I had been your man, I wouldn’t dream of looking at another woman. You know what I’m saying?”

  “I think I do.” How she kept a straight face through his rude ramblings, she’d never know.

  “How long have you guys been divorced now?” he asked, patting the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.

  She hesitated to answer, while silently praying that someone would come and rescue her. “Almost two years.”

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk. That’s a lot of lonesome nights, especially for a fine sista like you. Are you already seeing someone?”

  “Well—”

  “I certainly hope not. A brotha like myself is looking to get in where he fits in, you know what I’m saying?”

  She did laugh at that, she couldn’t imagine him fitting into too many situations. “When I’m ready to date again, I’ll definitely try to keep you in mind.”

  He dabbed his brows again. “All right now. I’m going to hold you to that.”

  That’s what I’m afraid of.

  Finally, Toni spotted her in trouble and managed to rescue her before Freddie actually hoodwinked her into a date.

  It was no secret that Freddie and Toni were lifelong enemies, which was why Toni had no trouble telling Big Trouble to “get lost.”

  However, Brooklyn wished Toni could have been more tactful, especially since they were still in the Lord’s house.

  But Freddie was more than glad to sulk off.

  “Why that pimp even bothers showing up here is beyond me.”

  “Do you mind? We’re still in church.”

  Toni rolled her eyes, refusing to give up her irritation at the man. “What did he want anyway?”

  “I’m not totally sure, but I think he was working up the nerve to ask me out.”