Girlfriends

by Patrick Sanchez

  “There’s a Ruby Tuesday’s. They have a good salad bar,” Cheryl said.

  “Salad bar? Cheryl, you know I don’t like salad bars. All those people and their germs, cavorting over communal food dishes. I don’t think so. I’m still having flashbacks to that awful buffet we went to with Shirley last month.”

  “How about that place?” Cheryl said, pointing toward a small, nondescript restaurant in a little strip mall along the highway. “Look, the sign says they’ve been in business for thirty years. It must be good.”

  “All right, we can give it a shot.”

  They pulled into the parking lot, hopped out of the car, and headed toward the restaurant. When they were through the doorway, a heavyset woman gave them a curious look.

  “May I help you?” she asked the couple as if they were lost or in the wrong place.

  “Hi. Two for nonsmoking please.”

  The woman raised her eyebrows, grabbed a couple of menus, and gestured for Peter and Cheryl to follow her.

  As they strode past the tables, Cheryl couldn’t help but feel that people, all of whom were white, were staring at her. Her radar was beeping, signaling that she was in unfriendly territory. As a black woman, she developed a sort of sixth sense about when she was in racist company. Sometimes it was off, but usually it was pretty accurate.

  The hostess sat them at a small table in the back, laid the menus in front of them, and left without saying a word.

  “For heaven’s sake,” Peter said to Cheryl as they took their seats.

  “What?” Cheryl asked.

  Peter pointed his eyes toward the wall behind Cheryl. She turned around to see a gigantic confederate flag virtually covering the entire wall.

  “Let’s go, Cheryl. I doubt we’re welcome here,” Peter said, getting up to leave.

  “Sit your ass down. We’re not going anywhere. That’s exactly what they want us to do.”

  “I didn’t know places like this still existed, at least not around here.”

  “Naive little white boy,” Cheryl said, opening her menu.

  “Everyone is looking at us, Cheryl. Are you sure you want to stay?”

  “Just ignore them, Peter, ya big baby. It’s a free country. We can eat wherever we want,” Cheryl replied, trying to put up a brave front. She was actually quite nervous herself. She looked at the wall next to them and viewed the plethora of framed photographs. Apparently, they were taken at special events at the restaurant and were mostly of customers—not a single person of color in the bunch. A mature waitress came and took their drink order and was actually quite friendly. As the couple continued to review the menu, a large man with a heavy beard and tight flannel shirt strode past their table on the way to the rest room. As he walked by, he mumbled under his breath, “Someone’s here who’s not supposed to be.”

  “I’m sorry, did you say something?” Cheryl said loudly, although she heard him clearly the first time.

  “Cheryl, what are you doing?” Peter asked.

  “The gentleman said something as he walked by. I just wanted to be sure I heard him correctly.”

  “I said,” the bearded man continued, turning around, “that someone is here who’s not supposed to be.”

  “And who might that be?” Cheryl asked while Peter gave her a look that pleaded for her to just let the whole thing go.

  “Look, lady, it’s nothing personal, but is it really too much to ask to have one place—one damn place, where we can be with our own kind?”

  “If you want to be with your own kind, wouldn’t you be more comfortable in a zoo?”

  “Miss, I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave,” the hostess said sharply to Cheryl before the man could reply.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. Now, get on out of here before it gets ugly. You have no business here in the first place.”

  “Come on, Cheryl. Let’s go,” Peter said as the whole restaurant watched. Peter tugged on Cheryl’s arm, coercing her to follow him. Steaming, Cheryl started to walk out with Peter.

  As they passed the last few tables, the man called to Peter. “Yeah, take your colored girlfriend out of here. Dating a colored girl—you must be afflicted or something.”

  Peter probably would have ignored him and kept walking if it weren’t for the racist man’s fatal choice of words. Every other word the man had spoken became a blur, and the word “afflicted” stung Peter’s ears. All of a sudden he was thirteen again, and Gus was making bogus wheezing noises and laughing at him.

  From what seemed like out of nowhere, Peter swung around and lunged straight for the bearded man. Something inside Peter had just snapped, and he rammed into the stout man, throwing him against the wall. Peter had caught him totally off guard, and the bigot was pinned against the wall as Peter repeatedly wailed on him. Peter hit him in the face, in the chest, the shoulder—anywhere his spiraling arms could make contact.

  “Get him off of me,” the man shouted to the crowd. “Get him off of me!”

  He tried to push Peter off and get in a few punches of his own, but it was pointless. Peter was in his own world and struck the man with such force and speed that his opponent didn’t stand a chance. When two of the customers were able to pull Peter off the bloody and swollen man, Peter finally regained his senses and realized what he had done. The two men pulled him by both arms through the restaurant and out the door with Cheryl following. They dropped him outside without a word.

  “Come on,” Cheryl said. “Let’s go before they call the police.”

  As they got into the vehicle, Cheryl asked with a comforting smile, “What the hell happened, Peter?”

  “I don’t know. He just pissed me off, I guess,” Peter said, still a little dazed.

  “When you started hitting him, my first instinct was to yell ‘Stop,’ ” Cheryl said. “But then I realized you were kicking his ass, so I just enjoyed it. It was such a spectacle, Peter. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it myself.”

  “I did kick his ass, didn’t I?” Peter said, feeling his eyes start to water. He felt like a huge chip had been lifted off his shoulder. He felt lighter, freer—he felt proud of himself. Sitting in the car with Cheryl at the wheel, he smiled, and he laughed, but mostly he wept. He wept like a baby and didn’t even care that Cheryl saw him.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I’m fine. Actually, I’m pretty damn fine,” Peter responded, trying to wipe the tears from his eyes. “He looked pretty bad, didn’t he?”

  “I think they might have to take him to the hospital.”

  “I guess you might say he’s afflicted?” Peter said.

  “I guess,” Cheryl said. “I guess you would.”

  A Ride Home

  “I need another drink. You guys want anything from the bar?” Gina asked the gang, figuring the evening was a wash. She’d have another drink or two and then just go home and try to forget about it.

  “Nothing for me,” Dennis said. Linda and Rosa declined the offer as well.

  Gina got up from the table and made her way through a maze of familiar faces. Several guests smiled at her and almost attempted to engage her in conversation, but she just ignored them. The night was now a disaster. She was probably the laughingstock of the party. The only thing worse than coming to your reunion without a date was coming with a pretend date and getting busted. She was lost in thought when she ran into Karl Mullins.

  “Oh, excuse me . . . ?”

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going,” Gina said to Karl.

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m going to be honest with you. I can’t quite remember your name, and I can’t imagine how I could forget someone as radiant as you,” Karl said, tilting Gina’s name tag up. “Gina Perry. Oh, yes. Now I remember. Thank God for name tags, huh?”

  “Well, with any luck, I’ve improved with age. Honestly, you look familiar to me also, but I can’t quite place the name,” Gina lied. She knew damn well who he was. She had only yearned for hi
m for most of her high school career. He played varsity football and was salutatorian of their graduating class. He had a solid build, light brown hair, big brown eyes, and was just over six feet tall.

  “Karl . . . Karl Mullins.”

  “That’s right. Karl.”

  “Were you going to the bar?”

  “Yes, I was. You?” Gina asked.

  “I am now.”

  Gina smiled as Karl followed her to the bar. As they stood in line, they continued to catch up.

  “So what have you been up to?” Gina asked.

  “I live in D.C. . . . Georgetown . . . just bought a house on P Street. I’m a lawyer with a firm downtown. They work me to death, but I enjoy it for the most part. How about you? What have you been doing for the last ten years?”

  “Gosh. Where to begin? I went to college at American University. I live over near Dupont Circle.”

  “What kind of work do you do?”

  “I’m in management with Premier Bank of Arlington.”

  “A banker, eh? That’s cool. So, did you come with anyone?”

  “Yes, I’m here with a friend. You?”

  “No, I came solo. I just finished law school last year and I’ve only been back in town about six months. It’s hard to meet people in this city.”

  Tell me about it! “Oh, not at all. I’d be glad to introduce you around.”

  “I’d like that.”

  When they finally got their drinks from the bartender, Karl asked, “Are you much of a dancer?”

  “I guess. I dance some.”

  “Well?” Karl asked, pointing toward the dance floor.

  “Lead the way.”

  Eighties music seemed to be the theme of the evening and Debbie Gibson’s “Shake Your Love” was blaring from the speakers. They laid their drinks on one of the speakers and hit the dance floor, with Gina trying not to stare at Karl. He was so good-looking, and he could actually dance. Good-looking and rhythm—how often did that happen? They stayed on the dance floor through Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” and Janet Jackson’s “Nasty.” Eventually, the music slowed as the deejay played the New Kids on the Block’s “I’ll Be Loving You Forever.” There was an awkward silence when the song came on until Karl raised his shoulders, smiled, and gave her a look that said “interested?” She was definitely willing and met him in the middle, putting her arms around his neck.

  They swayed to the music as the dance floor got more and more crowded. All the guys who wouldn’t dream of dancing to an upbeat song were usually willing to suffer through a slow tune with their significant others. As space tightened, it gave Gina and Karl an excuse to move closer together. By this time, Gina’s mouth was dry, and her heart was slightly palpitating. Karl felt warm and strong and just plain good. When the song ended, they slowly pulled apart and exchanged smiles. At this point Linda, waving her hands from the table, caught Gina’s attention. She had forgotten all about Linda and the rest of the group.

  “You remember Linda . . . Linda Collins? We came together,” Gina said, walking toward the table and gesturing at Karl to follow.

  “Hey, Linda. Remember Karl?”

  “Yes. Hi, Karl,” Linda replied, offering Karl a distracted smile. She then looked back at Gina. “Gina, Rosa’s really sick.”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She just got nauseous all of a sudden. Dennis is with her now. They’re outside. We’ve got to take her home.”

  “Take her home?”

  “Well, we can’t have her spend the evening outside puking in the courtyard. Why don’t Dennis and I take her home, and we’ll come back and get you. I know this night means a lot to you.”

  “No, not at all,” Gina said, embarrassed by Linda’s comment. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “If you want to stay, Gina. I can take you home,” Karl interjected.

  Yes! Yes! Yes! “Oh, I don’t want to trouble you.”

  “Believe me. It’s no trouble.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s settled, Linda. I’ll take Gina home.”

  “Okay. Have fun, kiddies.” Linda smiled and winked at Gina before walking out into the hallway.

  Opening the Candy Store

  “That’s Gomez, my dog. He’s a little monster,” Gina said in reference to the barking coming from the other side of her apartment door. Before Gina got her key in the door, Gomez would somehow always know she was home and immediately start barking in anticipation of being let out of the kitchen.

  “A dog? What kind?” Karl asked, following Gina into the apartment.

  “He’s a miniature dachshund. He’s perpetually in trouble. Couldn’t behave himself to save his life.”

  “He’s so cute,” Karl said, watching Gomez run in circles around his feet.

  “Thanks. Listen, why don’t you have a seat and make yourself at home while I run him outside for a walk,” Gina suggested to Karl while she attached the leash to Gomez’s collar. She wasn’t thrilled with the idea of leaving him alone in her apartment, but he was a former classmate, and scooping poop wasn’t exactly the way she wanted Karl to see her at that moment.

  When Gina got back inside with the dog, Karl was sitting on the sofa with the television on.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked, passing him on her way to the kitchen.

  “No thanks. I’m fine.”

  “Okay,” Gina replied, filling a glass with water for herself and replenishing Gomez’s water dish. She had been rather parched the entire evening, and sipping the cold water provided some relief. The night had gone splendidly. So she was at her reunion with her gay hairdresser, and everyone probably knew it. Everyone also watched her hit it off with Karl Mullins and leave the party with him.

  How about them apples, Gina thought to herself before returning to the living room.

  She sat down next to him on the sofa but kept a slight buffer zone between the two of them. She wasn’t sure how to handle the situation. She wanted to sleep with him but knew it was probably in her best interest not to. Guys always had more respect for girls who waited awhile before “opening the candy store.” She looked down at the floor and saw that Karl had taken his shoes off—a sure sign he was getting comfortable.

  “He’s so funny,” Karl said, gesturing toward Gomez, who was now lying on the chair opposite them. “I think he’s lost interest in me.”

  “He does that. When guests first walk in the door he’s all over them, but the novelty wears off really fast, and then he basically ignores you.”

  “Well, as long as his owner hasn’t lost interest in me,” Karl said, moving in closer and pecking Gina on the lips. Gina just smiled and gazed at him. He kissed her again and moved his body closer to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his chest against her.

  Gina melted and took a deep breath as he kissed her neck. Any thoughts of being a good girl that evening were history. Well, Gina thought. Guess the candy store’s open for business.

  Karl continued to passionately tongue her neck as he reached for the zipper to her dress. Gina held tightly on to his back as he slowly maneuvered the zipper down. With her dress now loose on her shoulders, she flipped up from underneath him and sat on his lap to more easily unbutton his shirt. As she loosened the buttons, an exquisitely cut chest and solid abs emerged from the fabric. Gina massaged his chest firmly with her hands until Karl decided to help her get out of the dress. She stood up and let the dress flow to the floor as Karl watched her. He pulled her toward him and shifted Gina onto her back. He tossed his shirt off and then reached up under her slip and delicately pulled her stockings down to her feet and off onto the floor. As he started to lie back on top of her, Gina unbuckled his belt and loosened his pants. Karl then finished the job himself and pulled his pants off and laid them over the sofa arm. He lifted Gina’s slip up above her breasts and pressed his nearly naked body against her. He firmly grabbed her buttocks and teased her mouth with his tongue. Gina was enmeshed in pure
pleasure until she reached her hand down into his boxers and felt a small, flaccid penis.

  This was totally new to her. At this stage of the game, all the guys she’d ever been with were hard as a rock. She couldn’t recall ever feeling a limp dick before sex. She played around with his soft member for a few minutes to no avail, somewhat baffled by the circumstances. Finally, Karl broke away from her and with a look of frustration said, “I don’t know what’s the matter. This has never happened before.”

  “It’s okay. It happens to guys all the time,” Gina lied. It wasn’t okay, and she had never known it to happen before.

  “Well, this is a first for me. But it has nothing to do with you.”

  Me? Who said anything about it having to do with me? “You just need to relax,” Gina said, pulling her slip back down and feeling a little ridiculous.

  “I guess you’re right, and I know something else that might help. Please don’t take this the wrong way. But did you have onions for dinner or something?”

  “What? No. Why?”

  “I’m sorry. God . . . there’s no polite way to say this . . . but your breath is just sort of foul. I think that’s why I’m not performing up to speed.”

  “Oh, my God!” Gina said, putting her hand to her mouth as she scurried toward the bathroom. She frantically brushed her teeth and rinsed with some mouthwash before returning to the living room.

  “God, that is so embarrassing. All this time I had bad breath. I could just die.”

  “No, really, it wasn’t that bad. I’m just supersensitive to smells. It’s more me than you. Anyway, where were we?” Karl asked before leaning in closer to her and giving her a kiss. He then pulled away and said, “You know what, Gina? I just don’t think this is going to work.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s just not happening for me. You’re very nice and . . . oh, nothing.”

  “No . . . what? What is it?”

  “I don’t know. I usually do okay with women with small breasts, but . . . oh, I don’t know. I think I just need to go,” Karl said, grabbing his pants and beginning to get dressed. “I’m really sorry.”