“And you’re not?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Should I ask why?”
“No,” I say and lock eyes with his. “How old are your kids?” I ask, changing the subject.
“My daughter is eight and my son is ten. I miss not seeing them every day. I miss the racket they make before going to bed at night and I miss hearing Tiffany’s world’s about to end crises.”
“So why not work it out with your wife?”
“I wanted to for a long time, but now I know we can’t be happy together. Children need to know what happiness is, so they can strive for it. I don’t want the only thing they remember is the yelling.”
“So how will the parenting work?”
“I get them in the summer, some holidays and with notice when I’m visiting.”
“Was your household stable when you were growing up?”
He smiles. “It was. I’m the oldest. When my brother, Daniel, was born my grandmother came to live with us. She stayed for years and because of her I think my parents had no choice but to be happy.”
“Because she was in the house or because she took some of the pressure off.”
“Both. My parents are doctors. Hectic schedules. Grandma was this whirlwind who knew everything and demanded that my parents find the time to be our parents.”
“They must be very upset you got a divorce.”
“And thus the complicated situation at times.”
“So, is your ex the only person you’re sleeping with?”
He laughs. “Only her and you,” he says seriously.
I look at my watch.
“Shit, I have to go. I’ll be late for class,” I say, gathering my stuff.
“Is this for your doctorate?”
“No. I graduated. This is for fun.”
“What is it and can I come?”
At the door, I stop. “It’s pole dancing and it’s a women only class.”
“You’re going to a sex class?” he asks with a big grin.
“It’s not a sex class and I’m teaching it. See ya.”
I leave him laughing.
That night I call Matt, my ex brother-in-law, to get some feedback on returning home. He’s surprised I want to come back. I explain that it isn’t a want, but that I need closure and to get on with my life. He says that Keith is still pretending to be hung up on me and now would not be a good time. They’re scheduled to do some island hopping in four weeks, so he will call me back and we’ll work on the details.
A month later, Mark invites me out to dinner after work. I want to go, so I say yes. I’m feeling as if I’m being watched again and going out with him would probably distract me. While we dine in Manhattan, we talk more about Canada and the US than about each other. We talk about the job too and some of our colleagues who he doesn’t think he can continue to work with. I tell him the pros and cons of each person and make sure I don’t advise him on what to do. At the end, I suggest we take different cabs because he lives in Lower Manhattan and I live in Brooklyn. He insists on seeing me home.
“You know you didn’t have to do this. I wouldn’t have thought any less of you,” I say as the cab zips over the Manhattan Bridge.
“I would think less of me. You’re a beautiful woman and your safety is important to me.”
“Why are you sounding as if this was a date? All we talked about was business so the gentleman thing isn’t necessary.”
“Actually, it was supposed to be a date; but you turned it into work.”
I laugh. I was going to say ‘whatever’ but decide to tell him the truth.
“Mark, I can’t date you.”
“What am I lacking?”
“You’re not lacking, you just aren’t … you know … my type.”
“What’s your type?”
The cabbie interrupts by asking for directions. I give him the most direct route possible.
“So?”
“We still work together, so the point is moot.”
“Unless you’re staying, it’s important we talk about it.”
“Okay, we’ll talk about it when my time is over, how’s that?”
“You should give me a hint, so I can work on myself between now and then,” he says jokingly.
“There are some things you can’t change, some things I can’t change.”
“Such as?”
I look at his face, at his eyes and I can’t say it.
“Children,” I say instead. “I have already raised mine and I don’t want to raise anyone else’s.”
He doesn’t respond. I glance at him again.
“Are you hurt?” I ask.
“No, just trying to figure out how to respond since you already know I’m not the primary parent.”
“You are in the summer time, and if we … if we’re together I will have to get involved and … I … I don’t want to do that.”
“You don’t sound sure. Besides, I don’t believe you and something like that is usually a wait and see type thing. You’re creating a problem before we have one.”
The cab pulls in front of my building. I turn to say goodnight and he exits on the other side, comes around to my side and helps me out.
“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say.
He’s staring in my eyes.
“Are you trying to come in?” my big mouth asks.
“May I?” he asks very politely.
“Okay.”
He pays the cabbie and we stand on the sidewalk and watch the cab drive off.
“Would you like to meet my sister and brother-in-law?” I ask, trying to kill time.
“I would love to,” he says.
I open the gate and walk up the stairs. I unlock the entry door, avoid the staircase to my left and walk a few steps to Zoi’s door. I knock.
“This is a really nice building. How many apartments are in here?”
“It’s nice and four,” I say as Darnell opens the door.
“Why did you … knock?” he asks as he notices Mark.
“May we come in?” I ask.
He steps back and I introduce Mark to him and Zoi who’s in her usual spot on the sofa.
“Hi, Mark,” Zoi says, as if she knows him.
“Hi, Zoi, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Please have a seat,” Zoi says to Mark, and I sit beside her. “Honey, this is Nella’s boss,” Zoi continues to Darnell, whom she had obviously told that Mark’s the one night stand.
“Oh, Mark, so you’re from Canada, right?”
“Yes, I’m Canadian.”
“Did Nella piss you off already why you fired her?” Darnell asks jokingly with laughter.
Mark laughs and looks at me. “She quit even before I got here. I wish she hadn’t especially since she refuses to date me.”
Darnell and I glare at each other.
“Did she say why?” Darnell asks, still glaring at me.
“She’s beating around the bush, but no, not yet.”
Darnell grudgingly relinquishes the gaze and gives Mark his attention.
“Mark is there any chance, even a tiny one that you’re West Indian?”
“My mom is from Jamaica.”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Darnell yells and pumps his fist like a piston.
“Mark, are you serious?” Zoi inquires with joy in her voice.
Mark looks at me and I glare back at him.
“I’m serious. Is that the stipulation?”
I look away. I’m surprisingly calm, can’t even feel my heart beating.
“That’s one of them, why don’t you tell him the rest, Nella?” Darnell says daringly.
I look at my watch.
“Nella, don’t leave yet,” Zoi begs and follows it up with a kiss to my cheek. “Are you of mixed race, Mark?”
“Yes. My mom’s black or mixed, light skinned like you and my dad is white Canadian.”
“Can you talk West Indian dialect?” Zoi continues to Mark.
“I understand it bett
er than I speak it. I spent some of my summers in Jamaica. My grandmother who lived with us is a native Jamaican,” Mark says, smiling at me as if he’s in. “Will you date me now?”
I stand. “It’s late and we all need to work tomorrow,” I say with a sour face, walking to the door.
“Nella?” Darnell yells.
I ignore him.
“Mark, are you ready?” I ask in a subdued voice.
He says goodnight to Zoi and Darnell and we leave. I lead the way to my street-level basement apartment below, unlock the door and ask him in.
“Is it possible for us to not talk about it?” I ask Mark.
He’s looking around. He walks down the hall close to my bedroom looking at the framed pictures on the wall.
“Mark?”
“Under one condition,” he says, looking from one frame to the next.
I walk over to where he is.
“What’s the condition?” I ask.
He turns to me and I see it in his eyes. I walk away shaking my head and laughing.
“Well?” he asks.
“Fine,” I say, preferring that to talking about why his skin color is not right for me.
He sits next to me on the sofa closest to the bank of windows. I turn to him and he leans in, bends a little and kisses me. I feel it all over my body. We keep kissing and our hands help us show each other our need. I ease up, without breaking the kiss, and straddle him. His hands find their way under my skirt. I’m wearing pantyhose and I need more than his kisses. I slowly stop.
“Mark,” I whisper.
“Is your bed off limits?” he asks.
I ease away, close my legs and sit beside him.
“I have to tell you something,” I say and turn to look at his face.
He holds my hand. “Tell me.”
“I have never had sex in my bed, at least not with a man,” I say with a big grin.
He gets it and laughs too. “Are men allowed? Say yes and let me be your first,” he says tenderly as he kisses me slowly.
“Mark?” I groan.
“Is that a yes?” he whispers as he picks me up.
“Yes.”
The morning after, I arrive at work really early to try to get my bearings. I understand why people who work together shouldn’t sleep together. I fidget with the blinds trying to decide if I should keep them open or close.
How do I behave like nothing happened without being cold or without shunning him? I take a deep breath and smile. It was so good and he’s so sensitive and I need a cold shower. How many days do I have left?
I drop back in my chair. I stare at my hands, at my palms and then turn them over. I cradle my arms, lean back and close my eyes. It was really good sex. I have never had really good sex from any one before. I like how I feel after sex with Mark. I like how I feel during sex with Mark. I like Mark. I like myself with Mark even when there’s no sex.
I can’t fall for him. He will never understand a woman like me.
I turn on my computer and get to work. I answer about twenty-four emails and clean out my basket. Month end reports usually give me a headache, but I could use one today. I’m halfway through the first one before Kaitlin comes in and offers to get me coffee. I make a note to talk to Mark about a position for her before I tell her I’m leaving. I also need to tell him I’m on vacation next week. An hour later I’m done with the first report; there are errors, so I get up from my desk and point them out to Kaitlin who will contact the appropriate area to make corrections.
I glance over at Mark’s office and his shades are closed. I take a deep breath and walk back to my office, grab my cell and head for the elevator without telling Kaitlin where I’m headed. She’s too busy to ask. I walk out of the building and call Zoi.
“I screwed up,” I say to her without even asking how’s she’s feeling.
“How?”
“I slept with him again and now I don’t know how to act. His shades are closed and I’m taking it personally.”
“You’re supposed to take it personally if you really like him,” she says laughing.
“I can’t fall in love with him, Zo. I’m screwed up from head to toe.”
“I’m sure he has issues too. Take a good look at him, Nella. He’s a man of mixed race masked as a white man through no fault of his own. Imagine what black kids called him and how white kids treated him when they realize he’s not true blue.”
“He seems pretty put together, Zo.”
“He probably had great parents to help him, but I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten. Get to know him a little and then decide. Don’t tell him he’s not black enough yet until you’re sure.”
“What if it’s too late then?”
“Make sure you get some really good sex out of him before then,” she says laughing.
I laugh too, but my heart has another feeling.
Back upstairs, Kaitlin tells me Mark would like to see me. I get a pad and walk over to his office. I knock and he says to come in.
“Good morning,” I say, without looking directly at him.
“Please have a seat,” he says.
I do and then venture a look at his face. He’s serious and my comfort level rises. I’m Eunella. I can do this. I gaze at his bright yellow tie framed by his white shirt and then back at his face.
“How early did you get here this morning?”
“Why?”
“I had two emails from you before seven-thirty.”
“I was up, so I got here early. Can I talk to you about finding a position for Kaitlin? I need to make sure she’s taken care of before I leave.”
“I spoke with Bridgette about her. I’ve decided to hire a new vice president to replace you and she’s very familiar with the job; she may want to stay there.”
“Okay, good. Is there anything pressing on the calendar for next week?”
He looks. “I was thinking of having your replacement start next week, but we can put it off. What’s going on?”
“I have a ton of vacation days and I’m thinking of taking the week if it wouldn’t cause too much grief. I know it looks weird since the week after that will be my last week, but I’m playing to someone else’s schedule.”
“Take it,” he says staring at me.
“Thank you.”
“Nella, what are you going to do when you leave here?”
“I think I’m going to teach at the university level.”
“You haven’t made up your mind about it?”
“Yes and no. I have a series of interviews scheduled and my friend, a former professor, who recommended me, assured me that I’m a shoe-in, but my head is full and I need to find myself a little first.”
“Is your vacation next week a part of finding yourself?”
I close my eyes. I feel nervous. I stare at my pad and then at him.
“I’m hoping it will bring me closure.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head.
He stands, walks around his desk and sits on it in front of me.
“I’m here if you should ever need me or if you need to talk.”
I stand, push my chair back and walk away from him. I can’t do this here. I stand at the window and look down seeing nothing in particular. I turn back to him hugging the pad across my chest.
“I was four years old when my mom died and that was the last time I physically saw my dad. I was sixteen years old when I got married. At nineteen, I had two children. At the age of twenty-four I caught my husband in bed with a man and the next day I fled. I have not seen him since. Mark, you’re a really nice man and I like you, but I’m damaged and broken and you cannot help me; so, if we don’t have to actually talk today I would appreciate it if I could just work.”
“Nella, I’m not the enemy. If solitude is what you need, please, take it.”
“Thanks,” I say as I walk past him and hurry back to my office.
I close the blinds and lock the door.
I refuse to cry,
but I swipe the tears from my face.
He’s not the enemy.
I unlock the door and walk back to his office. I knock and he opens the door. I step in and he closes it.
“I’m sorry. We work together and that was very unprofessional.” I glance up at his face. His eyes are kind and loving.
I remember last night and I smile big. He does too.
“I know you’re not the enemy, but I don’t really know that. I had …” I smile and start over. “Last night was beautiful and I didn’t know how to behave today never having done this before. I behaved badly. I apologize.”
He takes my hands and kisses them. I gaze into his eyes and slowly look away.
“Both of us have been married before and we both have children, so there’s no rush or right or wrong. Nella, I’m harmless, so don’t be afraid.”
I laugh and take my hands back.
“That’s what that chubby guy thinks too when he shoots his poison arrow at someone. It’s deadly not harmless.”
He gets a quizzical look then bursts into laughter.
“You cannot say nasty things about Cupid and get away with it. He’s the master of love.”
“Mark, I’m going back to work and it’ll be easier if I stay over there.”
“If you kiss me first, you can run and hide.”
I take both of his hands in mine, step closer to him and get on my tippy toes. I drop his hands, hold his face lowering his head and touch my lips to his. I sneak my tongue between his lips. He wraps his arms around me and kisses me back. A hot feeling travels over my chest and into my stomach. I moan. I slowly stop and look in his face and his eyes are closed. I kiss him one more time and then walk out.
It’s Sunday evening and I’m packing to go back home. My ex-brother-in-law, Matt, his wife and my lawyer are the only people who will be expecting me. I have extended family there, but no one I’m close to. I have no idea what I’m doing because I’m trying to avoid thinking about what happened the night before I left. Although I have never told anyone, I’m not the only one who knows what happened.
I dump the contents of my suitcase and opt for a smaller one. I pull it from under the bed and start over. I pack a new pair of sneakers and stuff them with socks and toothpaste. I stare at them. Maybe I should take an old pair. I head toward the closet, but half way there I change my mind. I walk back and count panties and bras and lay them out in the bottom of the suitcase and then start to roll a pair of jeans when the doorbell rings. I stop and listen. I’m not expecting anyone, and Zoi or Darnell wouldn’t ring the bell. It happens again. I drop the jeans and as I pass the windows, I hesitate about opening the blinds to take a peek. I walk to the door and look through the peephole.
TAKE ME as I am Page 5
