The Complication

by Nia Arthurs

  Because eventually, the ride would plummet. And then it would end. And the sky would be out of reach, as it always was. As it always would be.

  I planted my feet firmly on the ground and pushed Elliot away. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, his gaze on me. Unwavering. Searching. The sky was in his eyes, but I wouldn’t be fooled by the adrenaline.

  I stepped back. “I guess I should put on the other one.”

  “Do you need some help?” The chirpy clerk appeared like magic. I sat while she fumbled for the shoe that was propped in the box and handed it to me.

  After accepting it with a nod, I tried it on.

  While I was bent over, I heard her tell Elliot, “Your girlfriend has a great sense of style.”

  I slipped the shoe on and grappled for the buckle.

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  Through the loop.

  “Really?” Her voice turned squeaky.

  “We’re just friends.” He offered his hand. “Elliot.”

  Out the other side.

  “Tanisha.”

  I strapped the shoe around my ankle and yanked roughly.

  “Do you model?” Tanisha asked.

  Elliot cleared his throat.

  I cringed.

  As if Elliot hadn’t heard that pick up line a thousand times. Along with ‘have we met before?’ and ‘excuse me, I don’t do this often, but I just had to come over’.

  The man was the human equivalent of catnip. Everywhere we went—cafés, concerts, cafeterias, classrooms—he demanded attention and snatched hearts.

  Tanisha chuckled nervously. “We’re looking for male models for our men’s clothing line. Would you be interested?”

  I stood and stomped my foot on the carpet. It didn’t make a sound, which was disappointing but, somehow, Elliot still noticed.

  He glanced over. “No thanks.”

  “Okay. Yeah. You must be busy.” The smile on Tanisha’s face remained bright, but her words crackled with disappointment. “No problem.”

  “That looks great,” Elliot said to me, his voice deep and growly.

  Sensing she had been dismissed, Tanisha inched away.

  I bobbed my head. “I’ll take it.”

  Tanisha moved back, her arms extended to grab the shoes so she could ring them up.

  “Since when did you make decisions after looking at one pair?” Elliot asked.

  Tanisha froze.

  I shrugged. “Maybe I’ve matured.”

  “Or…” he stepped closer to me and whispered, “maybe you’re tired of trying.” He arched an eyebrow. “Tell me the truth, Mami.”

  “What?”

  “Do you like these shoes or are you just getting them because time’s winding down and you think you have to?”

  “None of your business.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  I stood toe-to-toe with him. It was easier to do with the heels giving me so much leverage. “If the shoes are adequate, why should I take them off?”

  “Because you might think these are ‘adequate’, but you might love something else.”

  “Or I might not. I might take these off and try something else that looks good, but doesn’t fit me as well when I actually put it on.”

  Tanisha lifted a finger. “You know, we’ve got many different selections—”

  “So you’d rather stop here and never take the chance?”

  “Risks are for people who don’t have so much to lose.”

  “They’re just shoes,” Tanisha mumbled.

  Elliot and I whipped our heads around to stare at her.

  “I’ll take them.”

  “We’ll keep looking,” Elliot said.

  Tanisha danced from side to side. “Ma’am?”

  “I—” Before I could finish, Elliot’s hands were on my shoulders and he was driving me down. It was the second time in less than an hour that he’d forcibly planted me into a chair.

  Kneeling slowly, he leaned over and undid the first buckle. His fingertips rasped against my ankles.

  I shivered.

  A big, lumbering man like him should be clobbering and clumsy, yet Elliot moved with tenderness. Cocky gentleness—but gentleness all the same.

  I dug my fingers into the cushions beneath me, struggling to rationalize the moment and ignore the throbbing that was starting in my core. He was just taking my shoes off. It wasn’t meant to be romantic.

  I would not be moved.

  I loved my fiancé. If that ever stopped being the truth, I’d tell him immediately. Because it was the right thing to do.

  I really didn’t understand women who couldn’t be straightforward and strung men along. Women who played with hearts like they did their dolls, stocking them on shelves as some kind of trophy. Holding them hostage until they grew old and dusty and forgotten.

  Having someone’s heart was a privilege.

  Amir’s heart was in my hands and I would not betray him by succumbing. Every tremble that racked my body when Elliot slipped my shoe off was a temporary reaction to a temporary problem.

  My future was with Amir.

  “There,” Elliot said, looking up at me with a smirk on his lips. “Take a risk, Mami.”

  “Why are you doing this to me?” I breathed.

  There was enough of a whine in my voice to turn the question into a joke, but Elliot’s expression remained sober, intense. “Because if I don’t, you might end up making a huge mistake.”

  “Could I suggest something else?” Tanisha offered.

  “No,” we said as one.

  I glared at Elliot.

  He glared right back.

  “Okay…” Tanisha slowly backed away.

  Elliot rested a hand on his knee. “I know you, Mami. Adequate isn’t good enough. Not for someone who deserves to be crazy, silly in love.” He tilted his head. “But it’s up to you.”

  I sucked in a deep breath. Felt the air rush through my lungs. My tongue darted out, sucking at the corner of my mouth, falling down to my bottom lip and swiping the top.

  Elliot followed the movement as if transfixed. When I spoke, he seemed startled. “Gentle reminder, it’s been seven years. You don’t know me as well as you think.” I twisted away from him, gathered the shoes and the box and bundled them into my arms, holding them close.

  Elliot didn’t say anything, but his lips tightened ever so slightly.

  I stood, striding past him, and stopped in front of Tanisha. The clerk hunkered behind the cashier’s desk. Her eyes darted back and forth as if searching for someone else to take over.

  The shoes and box thudded against the counter, tumbling over themselves and landing on the side. I stared at her, my heart paining me for some reason.

  “Have you made up your mind?” she asked in a scared, frightened voice.

  “Yes.” I jutted my chin down. “I’m taking the shoes.”

  Chapter 5

  Elliot

  “I’m back, Gran!” I yelled. The screen door slapped closed behind me, punctuating the statement. I scraped my shoes against the welcome mat that said ‘Home Welcome’. There was an identical one outside on the porch that said ‘Welcome Home’.

  My gran thought it was hilarious.

  The house was warm. No, not warm. Hot. I felt like a baking turkey at Christmas and shucked out of my blazer.

  The heat and the sweet fragrance filling the air pointed to one thing: Gran was baking. My stomach gurgled in anticipation.

  I moved forward, calling her name again.

  “Just a minute!” she yelled back.

  I tapped my fingers against my side and glanced around as I waited. This house still felt unfamiliar, but then, we hadn’t lived here that long.

  Gran and I spent most of last week house hunting. She’d fallen in love with the bungalow before the realtor opened the front door. We’d walked in and she got real quiet while looking at the glass light fixtures and wooden panels. The moment we got to the kitchen, I s
aw her eyes squinting and her mouth trembling. I told the realtor to hand me the keys and show me where to sign.

  Days later, we moved in and Gran put her signature on things—family portraits everywhere, knick-knacks she’d collected from trips we’d taken when I was a kid, and enough throw-pillows to swim in.

  I smirked, recalling the way Gran would scold me to everlasting when I used to toss her cushions aside and jump in the sofa.

  “What’s so funny?” her voice intruded on the memory.

  I spun as my grandmother popped into view. She was short and plump with dark chocolate skin and an easy smile that flashed at anyone—strangers, children, dogs. Her ability to put people at ease in three seconds flat was legendary.

  “How did the meeting with your friend go?” She pushed her hair back with a flour-covered hand. The movement caused the sweat on her skin to glisten like pinpricks of light.

  I took note of it and bristled. “Why were you baking in the heat again?”

  “I asked you first.”

  “Gran,” I groaned and strode to the controller for the air conditioning. Dialing it all the way down, I scolded, “This is why we got the AC installed. You should put it on when it gets hot like today.”

  “We’re in the Caribbean, sweetie. It’s always hot. And turning the AC on all the time will cost us an arm and a leg in the light bill.”

  “I can handle a light bill, Gran.”

  “Still…”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you liked the heat,” I grumbled.

  “Well, you know what they say. If you can’t handle the heat, you might as well get out of the kitchen.” She tilted her head and studied me with onyx-colored eyes.

  I shifted in discomfort. She was reading me, using her superpower of experience and wisdom to scan my mind like a psychic via crystal ball. But I didn’t want to be exposed today. “What?”

  “Did someone drop you off?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  She arched an eyebrow, the movement scrunching her pug nose. “Why? Didn’t you drive the rental to meet your friend at the restaurant?”

  “Something came up.”

  “Did you have car trouble?” she pressed.

  I wish. “No.”

  “I see.” Her eyes narrowed. She’d gotten a read.

  Damn it.

  “You ran into her, didn’t you?” Gran murmured.

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “What do you think that I’m thinking?”

  “Huh?”

  Gran’s brown lips curled up. “Did you tell her?”

  “Tell her what?”

  “How you feel.”

  “She’s getting married.”

  The pleasant expression dropped immediately. “That’s unfortunate.”

  “Gran!”

  “What?” She shook her head. “You’ve been talking about this Imani girl for years and now that she’s just within reach, you can’t touch her. I’d call that a tragedy.”

  “How can it be a tragedy when she’s happy?” I ground the words out while thinking of Imani stubbornly walking off with the shoes I’d tried to talk her out of buying. “He sounds like a great catch and she’s made it clear that he’s her choice.”

  “But that’s before she knew how you felt.”

  “Are you suggesting I try to romance an engaged woman?”

  “Well, when you say it like that, anything sounds immoral.”

  I chuckled.

  “Don’t worry, dear. I have just the thing to cheer you up.” She led me deeper into the kitchen and presented a counter filled with trays of jam-in-the-middle cookies.

  “Wow.” I stared at the bounty.

  “It’s pretty, isn’t it? I figured when you were finished we could go out and offer some to the neighbors.”

  “Gran, who does that anymore?”

  “What?”

  “No one talks to their neighbors. We just quietly pretend not to notice each other.”

  “Nonsense. Being neighborly will never go out of style. Now sit down and eat as much as you want.”

  I intended to do just that. Sit down and stuff my face. As I usually would. As I had so many times in the past. But, when my gaze skimmed over the tan cookies with the purple jelly dotted in the middle, I had a sudden memory.

  My first day of kindergarten. Gran packed cookies with my lunch and helped me slip on my backpack. We walked to the bus stop, me clinging tightly to her hand and Gran muttering assurances.

  We sat down in the cold and waited.

  The bus came.

  I got on and, ten minutes later, me and eighteen other kids were careening off the road and into a ditch. The bus driver died. Several were injured. I got a scar on the back of my neck from where the glass almost cut a nerve in my throat.

  Since then, every time Gran baked these cookies bad things happened.

  The day I got rejected from the junior varsity soccer team.

  Cookies.

  The night I got dumped hours before prom.

  Cookies.

  The day after Imani dropped off the face of the earth and stopped talking to me.

  Cookies.

  The day before Mom’s death?

  Cookies.

  These pastries were harbingers of disaster.

  I pushed the tray away and sulked. “I’m not eating these.”

  “Elliot.” Slack-jawed, Gran stared at me. “They’re perfectly good.” She massaged her wrist and said pitifully, “My carpal tunnel was acting up when I rolled out the dough, but the image of your smiling face kept me going.”

  I frowned. Gran knew how to lay the guilt on thick. “Fine. But just one.” I snagged the smallest cookie and nibbled on the edge.

  “It’s good, isn’t it?” Gran coaxed.

  I shrugged.

  “You’re being ridiculous.” Her knees crackled like bubble-wrap when she sat. My blood curdled at the sound. I hated the fact that she was getting older.

  Losing Mom had blown my world apart.

  Losing Gran too…

  “Are you acting this way because you’re upset about Imani?”

  “It was stupid of me to assume she’d be single.” I grabbed a napkin from the Belize-flag-shaped dispenser and gently placed the remainder of the cookie on top of it. “It’s been too long. I should have known she’d be taken.”

  “But you were still hoping…”

  I ran a hand over my smooth-shaven chin. “Like I said, it was stupid.”

  “I know how much this meant to you. All I did was mention missing Belize and you jumped at the chance to quit your job, pack up and head over here.”

  “It wasn’t a sacrifice. As long as you’re happy, so am I.”

  “Don’t even try to use me as an excuse. I know you, Elliot. But, honey, it’s over. There are plenty of girls in the sea.” She reached over and grasped my hand. Veins popped up above her knuckles. Gnarled fingers. Bluntly cut nails. Rough skin. The very definition of beauty. At least to me.

  “You’re right. Imani’s just another girl.”

  “Maybe you two can still be friends.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” I blew out a breath. I’d held it in for four years while we were at college. The fear of Imani distancing herself from me kept me from ever speaking my feelings aloud.

  Back then and now, having Imani in my life was more important than having Imani in my bed and I wouldn’t wreck our friendship for something as tenuous as an attraction.

  “Friends,” I mumbled. “I can do that.”

  Gran patted my hand. “That’s my boy. And, you never know, weddings are very stressful…”

  “So?“

  “… so if you just so happen to see a little chink in their relationship, you can move in and exploit it.”

  I blinked.

  Gran laughed.

  I shook my head and stood. “Don’t go around to drop those off at the neighbors till I get back.”

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

 
“To the restaurant.” I paused at the doorway and sheepishly admitted, “I left my truck in the parking lot.”

  Gran slanted me a knowing look, letting me know she’d heard all the words I didn’t say.

  Chapter 6

  IMANI

  “I said I’m downstairs.” I spoke into the phone, laughing when my words were met by shocked silence. “Amir?”

  “I’m still here. I just can’t believe it.”

  “You’re acting like I’ve never met you at work before.”

  “Only once and that was because my car was in the shop and you were giving me a lift. It doesn’t count.”

  I wiggled my fingers at Amir’s co-workers who were passing through the lobby to the exits and then spun so I could focus on our conversation. “When are you coming down?”

  “Now. Give me five minutes. No, two.” Heavy breathing and a whoosh of wind followed the promise.

  My eyebrows squished together. I pulled the phone away from my ear to check if the screen had gone wonky.

  It hadn’t.

  I put it back to my ear. “Amir, what’s that noise? Are you running?”

  “No,” he said. The squeak of shoes against tiles burst through the phone’s speakers. “I’m… yes. Yes, I’m running.”

  “Babe, take your time. I don’t want to have to wheel you down the aisle next week.”

  He wheezed, which I assumed was his version of laughter during a full-blown sprint. “Even if I have to crawl, I’m marrying you this weekend.”

  “I’m hanging up,” I said, ignoring the twinge in my chest. “Please be careful.”

  “Okay.”

  I pressed the END button and tucked my phone into my purse.

  “Excuse me,” a soft voice said.

  I glanced around and saw a short, brown-skinned woman with large, doe eyes and a weave that begged to be thrown away. She looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t think of a name.

  “Can I talk to you a minute?” She blinked innocently

  “Uh…” The stranger was staring at me like we were supposed to know each other so I responded enthusiastically, “Hey… you! Of course!”

  “You’re Amir’s fiancée, right?” She cocked her head to the side, eyeing me up and down. Looked like I hadn’t been as convincing as I thought.