by J. Nichole
He was right; it was one of the best things about traveling. Tasting foods from different cultures. “You guessed right. And Asian food happens to be amongst my favorites.”
“Is that right?” he asked. “And what are your other favorites?”
“To be honest, anything with spice.” I laughed. “I’ve gone to London and let’s just say, I am not a fan of the bland food, in America, in England, not anywhere.”
Russell stared ahead, at the woman passing the window pushing a stroller. “I would agree.” When the server appeared with our drinks, we placed our food orders and he turned to me. “How many countries have you visited?”
“Not as many as I’d like. Going out of the country is more than a weekend trip, but I’ve been to a handful,” I told him, trying to remember each of the countries. “England, France, Amsterdam…” I paused and looked up. “I think I’m forgetting a couple.”
He nodded his head and smiled. “That’s a decent lineup.”
“Since you travel throughout the week, what do you do on the weekends?” I really wanted to know if he spent his time with a special someone.
“Not much, honestly. Maybe hit a bar, visit my family, you know, nothing major.” He laughed. “Guess now I’ll be spending my free time at Lowe’s and furniture stores.”
“Can’t say it’ll be better than a bar, but you may end up liking it. Totally different feeling when you’re decorating a place you own.”
He hunched his shoulders and said, “We’ll definitely see.” Our food was placed in front of us, and the fish sauce and coconut milk between our two dishes made my mouth water. He looked at me and grabbed his fork. “You know what I don’t get?” I looked at him anticipating his next words. “Folks who take pictures of their food and post it on Instagram.”
I laughed. “I’m guilty,” I said with my hand slightly raised. “If I’m on vacation you’ll see a stream of food photos. I’ll admit, I’m an over-sharer.” He shook his head. “Let me guess, you don’t do social media?”
He twisted his mouth and shook his head. “Nope. I never got into it.” And that would be why I couldn’t stalk him online to see if he had a girlfriend. “I don’t want people all up in my business.”
“Noted, I won’t post anything about our date.” I put a bite of pancit in my mouth and closed my eyes as the flavors melded into my mouth.
When my eyes re-opened, Russell was staring at me. “Damn,” he said softly. “I should have ordered what you ordered.” He chewed a bite of his lobster and when he put his fork down, I grabbed it, scooping up a spoonful of my pancit. His mouth opened wide and I slid the food inside as his lips wrapped around the fork.
After he chewed we exchanged a look, and my body became warm. I looked back to my food and asked, “How do you like it?”
“Good, but,” he waited for me to look up from my food to continue, “the way you indulged in it.” He licked his lips. “I’d rather watch you eat it.” I felt my cheeks beginning to become flushed. He noticed too. “Kinda shy, I like that.”
I rolled my eyes and sighed. It wasn’t my favorite attribute. Certainly, left me in my head more than I wanted.
“All the traveling you do”—he pushed his food around his plate—“do you do it alone?”
My eyes bulged and my heartbeat quickened. “Oh no.” I coughed on the food I had finished chewing. “I’m always with a homegirl. I’d like to do a solo trip one day, but I’m not there yet.”
“I haven’t tried one either. I wouldn’t mind doing a short trip alone.” He tapped his knee. “If I ever find the time”—his smile deepened—“and now the money.”
As we drove away from Bad Saint he asked, “Do you like to dance?” I nodded my head. He looked at me sideways and asked, “Can you salsa?”
“Hell no, can you?” I laughed. “When you said dance I was thinking to hip hop, or R&B, not salsa music.”
“I learned during one of my recent projects. The PM loved to do our team meetings at a Spanish restaurant. By the time the project was over, I wasn’t too bad.”
We parked near Cuba Libre and he said, “I’ll teach you.” Before I exited the car I made him promise not to laugh if I was horrible. “Promise,” he said with his hand to his heart.
Six
Russell
Our real date was only supposed to be dinner, but when I saw Anaya blush, it did something to me. As I drug her on the dance floor, it took everything in my power not to laugh as she awkwardly followed along to my instructions. “Okay, roll your hips to the music,” I said, and she looked up to me as if chewing gum and walking was an impossible task. I put my hands on her hips and guided them. “See, easy right?”
“My years of coordinated dance lessons are being put to shame,” she said into my ear. Once her hips caught on I grabbed her hands. “I think I got it as long as you don’t try to spin me.” She looked at the couple beside us dancing circles around us.
“Don’t worry, we’ll take it slow,” I said, looking down into her eyes. Before the song was over she had the basic steps, and we were moving around the dance floor. Her hips rolled and her feet followed my lead. With her hands in mine, we danced through a couple of songs before I started to feel winded. “Lets grab a drink. Do you like mojitos?”
Her nose scrunched up and she said, “I’m not a huge fan of the traditional mojito, but I’ll take a raspberry one.” We walked over to the bar and found two seats.
After I ordered our drinks, I hoisted my glass in the air. “To not being too clumsy on the dance floor.” She rolled her eyes and chuckled. We turned in our chairs and watched the remaining couples dancing. “Salsa dancing is —”
“Romantic.” She sipped her drink and I watched her as her eyes followed the couples dancing. “Maybe my celebration trip should be to Cuba.” She looked at me and our eyes connected. “Or Puerto Rico,” she whispered.
I wanted to take her back on the dance floor, watch her hips roll, with her hands in mine, because taking her back to my bed wouldn’t be an option. It couldn’t be an option. “If you are going to go all out, we better perfect your moves.” I drank the rest of my drink as she finished hers. “Ready?” I asked with my hand outstretched.
This time she moved with ease, and when I twirled her she paused against my chest. Our eyes connected but before my urge to kiss her played out, I twirled her away from me. The interactions became more intimate with each song we danced to, and when I watched her bite her lip, I asked, “Ready to get out of here?”
She didn’t pause, or blush, her gaze was steady on mine when she said, “Yes.”
“Are you headed on your celebration trip before or after I collect my keys?” I asked as we drove to her place. She was quietly sitting in the passenger seat till I mentioned the trip.
“Definitely after. I have to make sure those coins hit my bank first,” she said with a broad smile. “I should also make sure the inspection and contract are handled before I dip on you.”
I nodded my head. “Guess that makes sense.” As we came closer to her condo, I thought about how I wanted the night to end. Then I thought about the wrath of Shay. “Hey”—I looked to my side—“how do you know Shay?”
“We were at Howard together.” I knew that Shay went to Howard, but I also knew she was a few years older than Nolan.
I tapped the steering wheel, not wanting to offend her by asking her age. “Did you graduate together?”
She shook her head. “No, I graduated a couple of years after her. We met in a student organization.” Not like her age mattered, but I was relieved to know we were closer in age.
“What student organization?” I was active on campus. Freshman court, intramural sports, volunteer groups, and I pledged into a fraternity before I left. She told me about her time in the student body government all four years of college. “Did you ever think you’d go into politics?”
She leaned her head to the side before she responded, “I did when I was in college.” We were in front of her build
ing before I could ask more questions. I opened her door and we walked together to her doorstep. “Thanks for tonight,” she said. “I had a good time.”
She turned to unlock her door, and when she turned back I held my arms open wide. “Thanks for helping me find my place.” I pulled away from our hug but steadied my hand on her arm. “I had fun teaching you how to salsa.” I winked. She stood holding her purse and keys, and if it were anyone else I would have been in her apartment already. Undressing her, using her rolling hips to drive us both into ecstasy. But she wasn’t a chick I met at the bar. And she was Shay’s homegirl.
“Have a good night,” I said as I turned to leave.
“Good night,” I heard her repeat as I walked away.
Packing my apartment would be different than packing my suitcase. Although it was scantily decorated, I did have my fair share of shit. Shit my parents no longer wanted to hold onto in their home. Then there was Yara’s room. I stood in her doorway and shook my head. I should enlist my mama to help pack it because she was responsible for most of it being there.
I called her to humor myself. “Boy, do you know what time it is?” she belted on the phone when she answered.
It was late, but I knew she was up watching movies as she and my dad always did late Saturday night. “Had some good news to share,” I announced.
“Oh yeah?” she said, her voice sounding much sweeter than when she answered the phone. I told her about finding my place and she made sure to look out for Yara. “You’ll have a room for my baby, right?”
I smiled as I knew that was my opportunity to ask her to help pack Yara’s room. “Of course. Actually, was just thinking you could help me pack her room in the apartment.”
“See, and that’s why you need a woman in your life,” she mumbled under her breath. “I’m getting too old for stuff like that,” she added for flare. My mom was in good health, still working every day, exercising, and even planting in her garden. She was more than capable of packing some boxes.
“Mama, now you know—” I started to share my standard response.
“Know that you are crazy to think that little girl cheating on you will happen in every relationship.” I gasped. “Oh don’t sound shocked. You can’t keep sticking it in these girls, and not settle down.” I tried to interrupt her and tell her I’d pack Yara’s room on my own, but she continued attacking my ego. “You know they say each time you lay down with someone you leave a piece of yourself with them.” I could hear my dad in the background hopefully trying to save me from my mama’s dragging. “Well keep going like you are, and you’ll have nothing left.”
“Mama, all that,” I finally was able to speak as she took a breath. “All you had to say was you weren’t helping me pack Yara’s room.” She laughed and I told her I’d see her in the morning at church. I definitely had to be there, or what she gave me about a relationship would be nothing in comparison to what she’d give me for missing church.
Getting up for church wasn’t easy. I had a hard time falling asleep. Anaya stayed on my mind all night, and I contemplated calling her, or texting her, but finally decided against it when midnight rolled around.
I flipped my pillow a few times hoping the cooler side would bring with it rest, but instead I had images of the women I met on the road flashing back to me. They didn’t last long; each was dismissed with an image of Anaya—blushing, dancing, and sipping her mojito.
Despite how tired I was I pulled myself out of bed, dressed in a suit and waltzed my butt into the church. I sat in the back pew far away from my mama’s front row seat. I looked around the congregation at many of the single women, many my mama had tried to introduce me to on a number of occasions. Of course, I found every excuse under the sun why dating one of our church members was a bad idea. Including, and not limited to, I didn’t want to start no drama between the different women of the church.
The pastor stood behind the pulpit, and asked, “How many of you have someone in your life you have yet to forgive?” If we were raising hands, mine would be held high. “I’m here today to tell you to let it go.” He read from Matthew, Ephesians, and Colossians before he told us to look to our neighbor on the right and say, “I forgive you.” Then to our neighbor on the left and say, “Please forgive me.”
The choir sang one last song before church was dismissed, and I went in search of my parents. “Mama.” I tapped her shoulder and she turned from the young woman in front of her. With a wink she introduced me. “Nice to meet you,” I said before turning to my mom to say, “I’ll meet y’all at the house.”
My mom gasped and my dad chuckled as I walked away from the three of them. On my drive to their house I thought more about the sermon, and the person who I was holding a grudge against. God forgive me because forgiveness won’t come soon. Okay, that was a contradiction.
My parents’ fridge was always stocked with leftovers from the night before. I lucked up on my mama’s spaghetti to snack on while I waited for them to make it home. The microwave dinged as my phone vibrated in my pocket.
Anaya: Inspection on Friday, does that work for you?
I’d be in town, but it’s my weekend with Yara. I delayed my response to Anaya as I waited for my parents to walk through the door. “Russell,” my mom yelled from the foyer. “Come help your dad with these bags.” I obeyed and walked outside to help unload the bags.
“Mama,” I said as I unpacked the groceries from the bags. “Can you watch Yara Friday afternoon while I get an inspection done on my condo?”
She closed the refrigerator and eyed me before asking, “Why can’t you take her with you? Not like you’ll be doing anything but walking through the place. I’m sure she’d like to see her new room.”
“Well, I, uhm,” I tried to find a response, but couldn’t. She had a valid point, but Anaya knew nothing about Yara and now wasn’t the time to tell her.
“Let me see if I can pull this together for you,” she said leaning on the counter to watch my expression as she said, “The realtor, female?” I nodded my head. “Cute?” I shrugged my shoulders. “Doesn’t know you have a beautiful, three-year-old daughter?” I shook my head. “Oh okay.” She rolled her eyes. “Where’s your daddy? I obviously have been doing a horrible job with my advice to you. He needs to come tell you about a rib, and find out why you still playing games out here with these women.” She waved her hand in the air and went back to what she was doing.
As if on cue, my dad walked into the kitchen in a fresh pair of clothes. “What’s going on?” he asked. My mom gave him a rundown before he laughed and looked at me. “Russ, you already know you can’t keep messing around with all these women on the road to avoid having a woman at home.” He turned his back to my mama and raised his eyebrows and I looked down to stop myself from laughing.
“You know when you find a good thing, your rib, that woman who will hold you down, she won’t care about you already having a beautiful daughter.” He continued on gassing my mama as I sat at the counter finishing up my plate of spaghetti.
“I’ll watch her Friday afternoon,” my mama finally said. “But you need to tell that woman.”
I thanked my mama, but told her, “It doesn’t matter anyway”—I thought about my conversations with Anaya. Although she’s sexy, and I’d love to sex her—“she’s single, no kids, travels all the time.”
“Oh okay, so you think she wants to stay single?” my mama said, rolling her eyes at me. “You still have so much to learn.”
Before I left their house I replied to Anaya.
Russell: Friday works.
Seven
Anaya
Marley and I flipped through all the networks, and Netflix searching for a movie to watch. She grabbed the remote from my hand and said, “Give me this.” She stopped on To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before.
I looked from the TV to her and said, “We’ve watched this before.”
She shrugged. “Right, and it put us in a better mood then so hopefully it’ll work
today.” Marley and I were both ranting about men, and how out of line they were as of lately. “Oh,” she yelled. “You know he asked me to split the bill with him?” My neck snapped away from watching Lara Jean. “I threw my card down on the table and said nothing else to him after the server brought it back.”
I could imagine her and her attitude at the restaurant. “He still called you after that?”
“Girl, yes,” she said, slapping her hand down on her thigh. “Talking about if we split bills it keeps everything fair and balanced.” He had a point, it did keep things balanced, but I didn’t dare tell Marley I agreed.
“At least he called you,” I said rolling my eyes. “I still haven't had a casual conversation with Russell. Almost like the little date we had never happened.”
“Now that”—she pointed at me—“is some bullshit.” She laughed. “You should call Shay and tell her about his wack ass.” I already did, and Shay was surprised he hadn’t called me. She was sure we were going to hit it off. “You know what.” Marley stood from the couch. “Fuck this.” I looked up to her and watched her pace the floor. “We are cute, educated, making money.” Right, right, and right. “Let’s hit a happy hour instead of sulking on your couch.”
My nose turned up and I said, “What, so we can find more men who ain’t about shit?” I wasn’t a glutton for punishment. “I’ll be on vacation somewhere soon, I’ll just wait to find me a Winston.”
Marley stopped pacing and said, “A Winston?”
“I’ll get my groove back.” Marley bent over laughing.
She stopped laughing and her face was serious. “You do know how that ended though, right?” I gave her a blank stare. “In real life. He was gay.” I threw my hands in the air. “So here, on an island, outer space. It don’t matter, these dudes ain’t shit everywhere.” We both laughed and I stood from the couch and agreed to go to happy hour with her.
