by J. Nichole
City Lights
A Short Story
J. Nichole
Edited by
Tamira K. Butler-Likely
Copyright © 2018 by J. Nichole
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
J. Nichole Newsletter
1. The Proposal
2. Lessons Learned
3. The Basics
4. No Picnic in the Park
5. Play the Field
6. Now or Never
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Also by J. Nichole
About the Author
Contributors
Chapter One
The Proposal
“If you can guess what I have in my pocket, you can have it,” Taylor says as he looks at me with a straight face. Since starting his job as a financial analyst, his style has changed. He keeps his hair in a fresh fade and his edges lined. Unless he is on the couch or with his homeboys, he rocks a tailored suit. But other than his looks, I’d think he was still the same old guy I met in college. He hasn’t matured much since we moved to New York.
Looking up into his dark brown eyes, I say, “Really? Taylor, I don't have time for games. It’s over. I can't do this anymore.” With my arms across my chest, I look down at my feet. The heels I had on at work today are killing me, but I didn’t have time to change out of them before Taylor announced he had something to talk about. He sounded sincere, but had I known he was bullshitting, I could have skipped all this and been comfortable by now.
“Danielle, that's the problem. You've become so uptight over the past year, you don't even have time to have fun.” He sighs. “Maybe you're right. Maybe it should be over.” Taylor turns to walk away. As his long legs take half-strides towards the apartment, I turn to look out over the city. I hear him clear his throat, and I turn to look in his direction. For a moment, our eyes make a connection that has been lost for months. “Danielle, I do love you. One day you'll realize just how much.”
Before the tear falls down my cheek, I turn back to the city. Searching my pocket for my phone, I think about what could have been in Taylor's pocket. Nothing, I'm sure, just another distraction from the reality of our relationship.
“Amy, it's over. I just told him,” I say as soon as I hear Amy’s groggy voice answer the phone. I’ve been friends with Amy since grade school. We’ve been together to witness everything together, and if not, we’ve shared play by play with each other. She was the first person I gushed about Taylor to. She hasn’t always been a fan of his, but over time, he grew on her and they became friends.
After about a minute of silence, she responds. “Danielle, what are you talking about?”
“Taylor. I just told him it's over. I can't keep waiting for him to get serious, to make me more than his live-in girlfriend.” My heart begins to race as the tears start flowing one after the other. The city lights are now blurry as the tears start flooding my face.
“Danielle, what have you done? Taylor is a good guy. He does love you. Maybe he wasn't doing everything that you wanted now, but I know for a fact he would have done what it took to make it right.”
I roll my eyes at the phone wishing she could see my response. How can she be on his side? “Amy, how could you defend him? You've been here on the phone with me for hours on nights when I’m sitting at home because he’s out hanging with his boys. I need to be with a man who will make me his priority. A man who after years of being together is ready to take the next step together.” Taylor and I have been together since college. When we graduated, and I got the job in New York, I asked Taylor if he would move with me. I was surprised when he agreed, but I was happy we didn’t have to suffer through a long-distance relationship. I just assumed when we got to New York it wouldn’t be long before he proposed. Now going on three years later, we are still just living together, not a single word about an engagement, and definitely not about marriage.
“You're right, I have been on the phone with you as you complained about the man who up and moved his life to New York for you but still wanted to chill with his friends. But, Danielle, I was also here when he came to show me the ring he bought and planned on giving you tonight. He was planning on proposing.” My heart sinks and her words trail off as reality sneaks a punch to my gut. I close my eyes and drop to my knees.
Chapter Two
Lessons Learned
The alarm clock sounds and I pat the bed beside me. “Taylor, can you turn it off.” I pull the pillow over my head. The alarm isn’t silenced. “Taylor.” I pat the bed again. “Taylor.” I throw the pillow off my head and look beside me. It wasn’t a dream.
Taylor is not in my bed. I crawl to the other side of the bed and silence the alarm. I grab my phone and scroll through my text messages. From my trail of texts to Taylor, I know when I hit the bottom of my bottle of red wine last night. The texts went from me telling him how much I missed him and wanted him to come back to how much I hated him. Closing my eyes, I lay back on the pillow and throw the phone beside me. Drinking myself into my feelings and texting is never a good idea.
As much as I’d love to lay here and drift back to sleep, me and my girls have a Saturday morning routine. We meet up for brunch and chat about all of the drama in our lives. I’m not looking forward to this morning’s chat because I’m sure Amy will not let me keep quiet about my break-up with Taylor.
Although Amy is the only one who has known me since college, and before, the rest of the brunch group has known me since I’ve lived in New York. We’ve each grown from our humble beginnings here in the city, living in studio apartments in Brooklyn to moving up to one-bedroom apartments in the same neighborhoods. Still not where we all would love to be, but progressing.
My phone dings with a text notification. My luck is still dry when I don’t see Taylor’s name on the screen. Inevitably, he’s ignoring my emotional plea. Instead of Taylor’s vow to return, I have a threat from Amy to have my ass at brunch. I was considering skipping it today, but I might as well face the firing squad.
Me: I’ll be there
Climbing out of bed, I step over my heels lying next to the bed where I kicked them off last night. In the bathroom, I reach for my toothbrush, next to Taylor’s. When he left last night, he didn’t pack a bag. I’m hopeful he’ll be back, and we’ll have a chance to talk. Amy made me promise I wouldn’t tell him she told me about the proposal, and I promised.
Peeling my clothes off, I climb into the steamy shower. The water beats across my skin and deep breaths keep me from tearing up again. I didn’t think pushing Taylor to propose would push him away. Then he said I don’t have fun anymore. Granted, work is hectic, and we’ve long passed the honeymoon phase, but I didn’t think I was suddenly a member of the fun police.
The water becomes cold and I grab my towel. While I dry my body I hear noise coming from the living room, and my heart begins to race. I pull on my robe and leave the bathroom, but the sound I thought I heard is nonexistent, and the bedroom and living room are empty. I continue getting dressed and leave the apartment before I dwell on its emptiness.
The ladies are sitting around the table when I arrive at Egg and a glass of Mimosa is al
ready sitting in my place. “Hey ladies.” I take a sip of my drink and say, “I definitely need this.”
“I hear you had a tough night chick.” Kayla looks at me through her wide brimmed sunglasses, as if the interior lights are brighter than the sunlight.
With my glass still in hand, I take another sip. “No time to even order food?”
“Girl, no. You need to start on these details now. It’ll take all morning for us to understand what the hell you were thinking,” Briana says with a tight smirk.
Kayla and Briana are both single but have dated different guys since we’ve known each other. Kayla even gave one of Taylor’s friends a shot before he ruined it by cheating on her with his ex-girlfriend. In their eyes, Taylor could do no wrong.
Before I can refute their request, the waitress appears at the table with her notepad ready to capture our brunch order. I take a long breath and look at the waitress. “I’ll have biscuits and gravy.” After ordering, I make eye contact with Amy. I’m hoping my friend of years will save me from the impeding intervention. When she cocks her head at me, I know I’m doomed for an interrogation worthy of the F.B.I.
“Alright,” I concede. “But before I tell y’all what happened how about you ladies start.”
Kayla looks at the other ladies and nobody responds. Kayla looks at me and says, “Nice try. Spill it.”
“Y’all know how much I’ve complained about Taylor these past few months.” I roll my eyes at how ridiculous my words sound in hindsight. “If Taylor wasn’t at work he was on the couch playing video games or out with his friends. He hardly had time for me.”
Briana raises her hand in front of her. “And what did you do, other than nag, to get him out of the house?”
With my finger pointed at myself I repeat, “What did I do to get him out of the house?” Briana nods her head. “What was I supposed to do? Whenever I asked him if he wanted to go out to the movies or out to dinner he’d wave me off and no plans would be made.”
“Danielle, when y’all first moved here the two of you were like kids in a candy store.” Amy adjusts in her seat, moving her napkin over so she can lean on the table. “Y’all would explore the different boroughs. Take trips to nearby cities. Weekend trips. All types of stuff.”
When I think back to our early years in New York, Amy is right; Taylor and I were all over the place. We were both excited to be out of Louisiana, out of the South. We had a little more money in our pockets, unlike college where we could barely do anything because we were broke and paying a mortgage on textbooks.
I tap the table and agree with Amy. “What happened? How’d all that stop?” Amy asks.
Briana looks at me and laughs. “That damn job of ours probably didn’t help.” Briana and I met at work during my first independent project. It was her marketing campaign that needed a graphic art design, and I delivered. “Long nights, weekends. I know if I’m not at work I’m lazy as all get out.”
“I guess. Maybe adulting got the best of us. After a while those student loan bills started rolling in and time became scarce on the weekends with me working.”
Kayla drags her eyeglasses to the bottom of her nose looking at me over the brim. “Excuses.” Crossing her arms across her chest, she continues, “But if you were slacking off on wanting to go out then what’d you expect him to do?”
I hunch my shoulders and sigh as the waitress returns with our food. I don’t know what I expected Taylor to do. I didn’t expect him to check out of our relationship. “Just because I didn’t have energy to go out and explore the city, travel, or whatever, doesn’t mean I didn’t want to be around him.”
“And did you tell him that?” Briana asks after taking a bite of her food. I grab my glass but realize the Mimosa is all gone, and I look around the restaurant for our waitress. I’ll need a refill if I’m going to make it through this meal with these ladies.
“Danielle, can you be honest?” Amy interjects. “You had this life plan.” She looks at Briana then to Kayla. “A checklist if you will.” My eyes narrow as I listen to Amy. “The next item on your checklist is marriage, and for everything else to happen as you want, you needed him to propose. And soon.”
“But what is wrong with that?” Briana drops her fork on her plate. “I’m not as ambitious as Danielle, but I have life goals.”
Amy puts her hand in the air and Briana pauses. “There is nothing at all wrong with life goals. But look at it this way. If you had a good man, one you truly loved, would you break-up with him because he wasn’t ready to get married when you were?”
Briana tilts her head to the side then looks at me and says, “Alright. Now that we know what happened. How are you going to get your man back?”
If that wasn’t the million dollar question. In our years of being together, Taylor and I have had a few spats that have caused us to take breaks. But nothing like this. “I think I’ll need a master plan. I don’t think he’s going to make it easy on me.”
“He loves you,” Kayla declares. “But don’t let too much time pass before you speak to him.”
My inquisition ends with hugs exchanged amongst all of us. I thank the ladies for their advice. Although they drilled me, I know they love me and want me to get my man back.
The apartment will still be empty, and I’m not ready. Instead of going into our building, I visit the bookstore next door. Before moving from down south, I can’t remember the last time I saw a bookstore, outside of the campus store, let alone visited one. But since moving here, Taylor and I would come into this bookstore and sit for hours. Finding books amongst the shelves to sit and flip through while we sipped on a cup of the store’s freshly brewed coffee.
“Hey, Danielle.” Over time, we’ve become good friends with the owner and store clerks. “Want some coffee?” I nod my head and follow the clerk to the coffee stand. “Taylor was just in here.”
My mouth drops. “Actually, I’ll be back for the coffee.” I turn and exit the store, running to our building next door, hoping I can catch Taylor in the apartment.
When I open the door, I don’t see Taylor in the kitchen where I drop my bag on the counter. “Taylor.” He doesn’t respond, but I can hear him shuffling around in the bedroom. I walk towards the bedroom but I don’t enter, instead standing in the doorway, I watch as Taylor packs a duffle bag. “Hey.”
He looks up at me and says, “I’m just grabbing a few things. We can talk about what we’ll do with the apartment later.” Until now, I didn’t consider the fact that alone neither of us could afford this apartment. But I’m hoping we don’t have to ever have that conversation about leaving our apartment, about prolonging this break-up.
“Can we talk now?” Biting my lip as he continues packing his bag, I move towards him. “I don’t want us to be over.”
He steps away from the dresser and sits on the bed. “You want to talk? Let’s talk.” His abrasive tone catches me off guard. Sitting beside him on the bed, I look down at his hand balled up in a fist.
“When we moved to New York we both went against our parents’ wishes and moved in together into our small studio apartment. We didn’t have much, but we made it work.” Taylor doesn’t look at me, but I keep my eyes set on the side of his face. His jaw clenches, and I try to remember the last time I saw him this upset. “Over time, I thought we would be engaged, and by now I honestly thought we would be married.”
He turns his face to look at me. “When have we ever talked about this arbitrary timeline you had?” Like Amy said, I’ve always had this checklist for my life. Even though we didn’t discuss an exact time, I thought we were both on the same page. I thought we were working towards a marriage.
“We’ve been together for years, Taylor. I assumed we were on the same page about getting married.”
“I didn’t say we wouldn’t get married, but what was the rush? Why did we have to be married by now?” He relaxes his hand and continues to look at me.
Glancing around the room breaking our eye contact, my si
ght lands on a vase that once held a bouquet of tulips from our anniversary. “Neither of us is getting any younger.” I laugh nervously because the true reason I wanted to be married by now is nonexistent. Not even I know why I had to have marriage checked off my list by twenty-six.
He stands up and grabs his duffle bag, looking inside before he opens the dresser drawer again. “And last night you broke up with me because instead of waiting it out, you’d rather be single?” With his hands full of socks, he turns to me. “You said you couldn’t do this anymore.” He rubs his chin, pulling on his beard.
“The last few months you’ve been ghost. We hardly ever see each other. If you were home you’d be playing video games.” Leaning against the bedpost, I stare at him as he continues to pack his bag.
“Wait.” He puts his hand in the air. “When did you ever say anything to me about not being around?”
“Oh.” I throw my hands up. “Just about every few days.” Taylor stares at me with his eyes half dazed.
“Whenever I was around, you would be buried in your laptop or sleep.” He puts his duffle bag on the floor beside him. “I knew you were working hard and it didn’t bother me that you hardly had time for me.”
“Maybe I did work too much. And no, I don’t stay up all night anymore, but it’s like you just gave up on being around.” Our conversation isn’t going in the direction I was hoping. I don’t know if we’ll be able to work out our differences. Standing beside him I say, “Whatever happened to us I’m sure we both contributed. But neither of us did what we needed to do to make it any better.”