Less Than Perfect Circumstance

by Kristofer Clarke

  I grabbed the remote and sat back in the couch, channel surfing, hoping to find something that might interest me. I found myself thinking about Jackson more often than I thought about anything or anyone else, but I wasn’t going to admit that to him. For a moment, we were both silent.

  “Is everything ok?” Jackson asked.

  “I’m fine,” I lied, doubting that Jackson believed me.

  “So…”

  Jackson paused.

  “If something was wrong, would you tell me?”

  “Of course I would.” Then I broke and asked, “Does the distance bother you?”

  I knew what distance had done to my relationship with Kelvin, and although I wasn’t sure if that question was coming too soon in what I had with Jackson, I had to ask.

  “No,” Jackson answered without hesitation. “If you’re worried about the distance doing to us what it did to you and what’s-his-face, don’t,” Jackson said in a very reassuring tone.

  “It’s something we’re going to have to talk about sooner or later.”

  So I already liked Jackson more than I was supposed tomore than I cared to admit, even to myself. I wasn’t supposed to be feeling this way about him, not with the cloud that is Kelvin hovering over my head. Even though we tried, something was happening between us that we couldn’t control. Talking every night wasn’t helping. Thinking about Jackson at times when I should have been thinking about other things, didn’t help. Thoughts of Jackson did make me smile.

  At times our conversations were simple. I liked getting calls from Jackson. Sometimes he called because I was on his mind. Gestures like that made it hard not to fall for him. These calls sometimes bettered days that weren’t going the way I wanted. There were still the occasional thoughts of Kelvin. The only reprieve from those thoughts came in my conversations with Jackson. Whenever we talked, Jackson would always ask that one question I hoped he wouldn’t. This conversation was no different.

  “So, are you over your heart?”

  “Jackson, you know I’m not going to lie to you. There are times I do think I am over him, and then he does or says something and every feeling comes rushing back.”

  “So you guys still talk?”

  “Yes, we still talk. I really don’t have any reason to stop talking to him.”

  I wasn’t sure how Jackson would react if he knew of Kelvin’s visit, so I kept it to myself.

  “I have one for you.”

  “What’s that?”

  I braced myself for the flood of suggestions or orders that I thought were sure to follow Jackson’s statement.

  “How about so you can stop hurting? So you can get your heart back and try giving it to someone who deserves it. That’s three good reasons why you should stop talking to him.”

  I listened intently as if what Jackson was saying was virgin to my ear. The truth is, what I heard had been told to me before, sometimes unsolicited advice that fell on deaf ears.

  “And you are not the first person to tell me that,” I replied almost in agreement.

  “So when are you going to start listening?”

  I was hearing something different in Jackson’s voice. Was Jackson falling for me, too? I almost wished he hadn’t called. If I could snap my finger and transfer everything I felt for Kelvin to Jackson, I would. Luther Vandross made it seem too easy: if you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with. I couldn’t love Jackson the way I wanted, and it bothered me. I didn’t have Kelvin, and now it was sounding like I wasn’t going to have Jackson, either.

  “You know what?” Jackson continued, sounding more disappointed than angry. “Maybe you’re not ready to let him go, even though he seems to have moved on quite comfortably with his life. You’re here practically dying over him, when, as far as you’re concerned, it’s out-of-site out-of-mind for him. What are you waiting for? Why do you continue to punish yourself like you do? Do you know what scares me?”

  Jackson was asking questions I wasn’t sure I knew the answers to, or which one to answer first. He didn’t give me a chance to respond. I knew exactly how he felt. My contact with Kelvin imposed on any feelings I had or could have for Jackson. Jackson just kept on talking as if he were lecturing a room of underclassmen. I felt like a child being scolded by his parents. I felt as if I were made to sit in the corner with my knees pulled up to my chest. I felt the urge to respond to Jackson’s accusations, but what exactly was I going to say? Jackson was right about everything. How could I have argued with the truth? Jackson has heard the hurt in my voice. If I didn’t love Kelvin, it would be easy to get over him.

  “I’ve been in this situation before, Trevor, and I know how it usually works out. It’s never in my favor. It scares me that tomorrow this man could call and tell you he wants you back and you would go running, without hesitation or thoughts of what you’ve been through, or what it is we’re trying to do.”

  Jackson’s words were honest and sharp.

  I wasn’t waiting for an I-want-you-back phone call from Kelvin. There were some nights I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Then there are nights when I’m able to fall asleep before the thoughts came, only to dream about him. It seemed there was no escaping Kelvin, and I questioned if I was even trying to escape. All I wanted was to allow myself to get over Kelvin in my own time. I didn’t think I had to separate myself to do so. It was obvious, even to Jackson, that holding on and staying in contact with Kelvin wasn’t helping. I just wanted to go through the hurt, the cries, and the lonely nights lying in bed staring at the ceiling. I hoped Jackson would still be there in the end.

  Jackson was still talking. I did nothing to interrupt. I understood what he felt. As much as we hated to admit it, on some level, feelings had already developed. Why else would it bother Jackson so much that I was still in this place when it came to Kelvin? Jackson wasn’t going to chance getting hurt again. He wasn’t going to chance falling in love with someoneif he hadn’t alreadyknowing that this person may never love him; may never give his heart to him. That was something he had already been through. Jackson was only going to wait so long, and it seemed he had gotten tired of waiting.

  “I just can’t take that chance, Trevor. So when you’re ready to give someone else a try, you know how to reach me.” Jackson was finally silent.

  “Jackson, wait!” I demanded

  “What exactly am I waiting for?” Jackson asked.

  I was quiet.

  “I’m not going to profess to have any type of understanding about what you’re putting yourself through, Trevor. It isn’t fair to you, and it damn sure isn’t fair to me. The two of us can’t hurt in this situation, and if we continue, that’s exactly what’s going to happen. I can’t fight this battle with you right now. Whoever he is, I can’t compete with him for your heart. You won’t let me win. You have to decide that you are ready to give your heart to me. I’m not trying to tell you how or when to get over him. I’m saying that, until you do, I have to leave you alone.”

  Again, Jackson waited for me to respond. When he was greeted with silence, he hung up.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  LET’S STRAIGHTEN IT OUT

  Belinda

  When I appeared in the entrance of L’Enchantment, DaMarcus stood, hoping I would notice him. I approach the Maitre d, and then followed close behind as I was led to the table. I had sex appeal, and the scent of J’Adore by Dior made me irresistible. My style was simple, sophisticated, yet very sexy.

  I wore a jean blazer over a chocolate-brown blouse with straps disappearing behind my neck. I showed just enough cleavage, which demanded DaMarcus’ attention. My slim fit jeans accented curves and a body DaMarcus never forgot I had. I accessorized with Calvin Klein stilettos and a Christian Dior purse. I was such a lady. As I neared him, DaMarcus smiled, thanked the Maitre d, and adjusted my chair as I sat.

  “You look stunning,” DaMarcus complimented, sitting back in his chair.

  “So, are you going to tell me why we’re here?”
I asked, rushing him, as if I had some more pressing issues to attend to.

  “This was delivered to my office a week ago,” DaMarcus said, removing a brown envelope from his briefcase and placing it in the center of the table.

  “What is it?” I asked, reaching across the table.

  “The divorce papers, Belinda.”

  His hand still pressed firmly on the envelope.

  Was this meeting even necessary? I thought. Did he not know what to do with them?

  “For weeks you’ve refused to talk to me,” DaMarcus continued. “You haven’t given me a chance to explain what really happened, and now this. I mean, you can’t be serious?”

  He removed the papers from the envelope and slammed it forcefully in front of me. I looked over my shoulders, making sure DaMarcus’ performance wasn’t commanding any unwanted attention. This behavior wasn’t going to fix anything.

  “First of all,” I snapped back with clenched teeth. “If you expect me to go through with this meeting, that better be the last thing you slam on this table.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that…”

  “It’s just that what, DaMarcus? Is there really anything to explain?” I asked, interrupting him. “I saw with my own eyes. It wasn’t second hand information from someone trying to sabotage my marriage. The damage has been done, DaMarcus, and it was your fault entirely. To make matters worst, Shayna was there. Can you imagine how embarrassed I felt? I’ve gone through the same experience with Terrence and…”

  “Baby, Terrence? That was so long ago. Look…,”DaMarcus said, attempting to grab my hand, which I quickly removed from his grasp. “I’m not saying that Terrence didn’t hurt you. If you seriously thought I was anything like him, you wouldn’t have married me. I know you don’t like to be wrong, but have you stopped to think for a minute that, maybe, you were?”

  “DaMarcus, you can’t be serious,” I said, grabbing my purse to leave.

  I stood leaning, with both hands pressed against the table and stared in his face.

  “I walked into my house, my husband is standing in front of me half-naked and there is a naked woman, not just any woman, but Taylor, standing in our bathroom door. What the hell was I suppose to think? Was I supposed to give you the benefit of the doubt and not entertain the possibility that something was going on?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what you were supposed to do,” DaMarcus snapped back.

  “Oh, really,” I said, and managed the most puzzling expression I could find. He can’t be serious, I thought. “If you were in my position, what would you have thought?” I stopped to see what DaMarcus would come up with.

  “First of all, I would think that my wife loves me enough not to disrespect my house like that.”

  “So, it doesn’t matter if your wife is cheating as long as it doesn’t happen in the bed you sleep in?” I asked for clarification.

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. And I wasn’t cheating on you. Okay. Maybe I would have thought the same thing, but I would have given you a chance to explain. That’s all I have been asking you for. You owe me that much.”

  “I don’t owe you a damn thing.” I sat back in the chair with my arms folded across my chest.

  “Alright, fine. Still, you could have given me a chance to explain the situation you had walked into. If you felt my explanation sounded like something I pulled out my ass, then you do what you want. Belinda, you haven’t answered any of my calls or responded to any of the messages I left. It’s like you’ve been avoiding me.”

  “I haven’t been avoiding you. DaMarcus, don’t think this easy for me,” I said, my eyes gazed on the floor.

  “That’s how you’re acting.” He sat back in his chair as if he had any good reasons to be upset.

  “Well it’s not,” I confirmed. “My nights haven’t been easy. I’ve been doing so much thinking and still I can’t seem to convince myself that a divorce isn’t the right thing to do. You should have seen the look on your face when I got home that day. It was like damn, I got caught. I couldn’t bring myself to listen to any explanation you had then, and I’m not sure I want an explanation now. Your actions had already convinced me you were having an affair.”

  “At this point it doesn’t matter. Just answer this.” DaMarcus picked up the divorce papers, and then continued. “Do you want me to sign these?”

  I stopped, almost holding my breath. I wasn’t sure what I wanted him to do. Now that I was sitting there with the one man who had promised to love me for life, I wasn’t exactly willing to throw away everything we had built together. Do I trust this man? Could I trust this man? Could I even begin to forgive him? The questions flooded my mind. I inhaled deeply and exhaled for as long as I could, and then responded.

  “No, I don’t want you to sign them. I tried to stop Walter from sending them, but when I reached him, they had already gone out. I was certain that by now they were on their way back. I wanted so much to call you, but I didn’t know what to say.” I reached into my bag for tissue to dry the tears that had begun leaving track marks in my foundation, messing the face I had spent all morning perfecting. Was I letting him off too easily? I thought.

  “Baby, I love you,” DaMarcus said. “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize what we have. The truth is, Taylor and Chad had been fighting, and since she knew us both, she asked if she could clean herself up at the house. I didn’t think you would mind. She couldn’t use the guestroom bathroom because it’s being remodeled. She hadn’t gotten there more than five minutes before you arrived, and I was just getting out the shower when she got there. I promise you, nothing happened.”

  “What about the messages I left?”

  “I told you I’ve been having problems with that damned phone. I had been meaning to replace it, but haven’t had the time. I’m so sorry.”

  “Boy, do I feel stupid.”

  “Please, don’t. Like you said, what were you suppose to think. Had you given me a chance, everything we’ve been through could have been avoided. We’re supposed to talk things out. We’re not competing to see who’s been wrong more times, or who is more to blame, so there’s no need to feel stupid.”

  “Have you spoken to her since?” My voice turned from anger to concern, and for whatever reason, I couldn’t look DaMarcus in his eyes.

  “Yes, I have spoken to her. She felt bad about what happened, but she’s fine. I told her about the divorce papers and that I was meeting you, hoping to change your mind.”

  “I guess it worked.”

  “Good. She and Chad have separated. She and the baby, Quinton, have moved to Philadelphia to stay with her sister for a while.”

  “Wow.” I was at a lost for words. I didn’t know how to react to what I was hearing.

  “She’ll be ok though. I’m just glad she figured out that she wasn’t this man’s damn punching bag. You know what I mean?” DaMarcus asked rhetorically.

  “I’ve missed you so much. Where have been staying?”

  “In one of the company suites at the Hilton. It’s nothing like staying at home in your own bed though. Definitely nothing like sleeping next to you.”

  DaMarcus winked and smiled as he held my hands, gently playing with the tips of my fingers.

  “It’s too quiet without you at the house. I spend most of my time with Dexter.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s feeling much better. Bryus and Trenton gave him a surprise party a few weeks ago, and he’s back in the office.”

  “So, where do we go from here?” DaMarcus asked and paused for my response

  “Well, your keys should still work.” I smiled.

  “You mean you haven’t changed the locks,” he said, laughing.

  “I thought about it,” I joked back. “But seriously, I did not.” I shook my head and smiled again.

  “Baby, I wouldn’t give up years of loving you for one night with anyone.” DaMarcus walked over and kissed me passionately. The attention we were trying to avoid was now i
nevitable. We didn’t care.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CAN WE TALK?

  Trevor

  My father never showed up to my house unannounced. He respected my life and my privacy. Robert was always very considerate of the time Kelvin and I spent together. He never wanted to impose, although I never considered the time I spend with my father an imposition. Now with Kelvin gone, besides my work, I had plenty of time to enjoy my father’s presence.

  I was sitting in the lounge chair on the balcony attempting to read again.

  “I didn’t expect you to be home,” Robert announced as he walked onto the balcony, placing the spare key he usually kept in his car’s glove compartment into his pocket. He walked past and leaned over the rails, admiring the view of the backyard.

  We sat outside for a few minutes enjoying the evening breeze. Moments later, we walked towards the living room and sat at the bar in the corner. Robert was dressed in warm-ups, and not in his usual slacks, dress shirt and tie. He was a detective and was in town following a lead on a case he had been working on for about a year now.

  “Did you go to the gym or something?”

  “I went to a kickboxing class earlier with a few of the guys from work. I had some extra time and was in the area, so I wanted to see how you were doing.”

  “I’m well, dad. You want a drink?” I offered, making my way to the other side of the bar.

  “I have a better suggestion. Since you aren’t doing anything…” he said, looking around to make sure his assumption was correct. “Why don’t we go out for drinks?” he continued.

  “That’s fine. Let me grab my car keys.”

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  The drive from the house to Ace of Spades, in the heart of downtown, on the corner of Salisbury and 7th Streets was filled with conversation. The mixed crowd, usually professionals, was loud but orderly, many enjoying the two for one special, the $3 Red Stripes, and $4 Cosmopolitans.

  Robert had changed into black slacks and a polo shirt. He was always prepared, usually carrying a change of clothes in his car, just in case. He was a well-educated man, and of course, he accepted nothing less from me. He had a Masters degree in Criminology from Florida State, and when I was old enough, he went to Baylor University for his degree in Forensic Science. I always admired my father for that. He graduated at the top of his class, and was a top recruit by police forces all over. He was a well-mannered southern boy who respected everyone, and was respected in return.