Not having a job was starting to feel like a bad idea, but her father insisted he wanted her to concentrate on law school and was underwriting all her expenses until she was done. It seemed like a sweetheart deal when he offered it, but now, all the free-time was beginning to wear on her. Maybe it would be different when the semester started, but for now, the nothingness was oppressive.
“Talked to Kal this morning,” Deuce said in an abrupt change of subject. “Him and Asha are comin’ out this way in a couple weeks.”
“Oh yeah?”
Zora loved Asha. She was as sweet a soul as she had ever met, and while she had long ago come to love Kal as well, he never struck her as the settling-down kind. Even when during the second half of senior year, he and Asha became a couple, Zora thought the relationship would dwindle once they were separated by thousands of miles and Kal reverted to his old tricks. Then Asha moved to California, and Zora secretly dreaded but expected news of a breakup that never came.
Well, one had come. But it wasn’t Kal and Asha who had broken up. Life was funny that way.
“Maybe we can all do something when they’re here.”
“Yeah, that’d be cool,” Zora said, noncommittally. “Sure.”
“Zee.”
“Yeah?”
“I think we should talk. I think we should talk in person. Y’know, about Saturday.”
“I know,” she said, looking down at the table in front of her, and at the cup of now tepid coffee.
On the other end of the line, Deuce sighed. “I hope you know it wasn’t just …”
“I know,” she said, feeling her throat tighten.
“Do you?”
“Yeah, of course.”
She kind of knew. But part of her wondered.
She had no idea about Regan, and what she and Deuce might have shared, or how deep things between them might be. Maybe he had real feelings for her.
Deuce never used to have girlfriends. Not till her. It was a bitter irony—her relationship with him was probably what made it possible for him to have real relationships with other people. She was responsible, in more ways than one, for him being with Regan in the first place.
On the other end of the line, he exhaled deeply. “I didn’t call because I couldn’t before. This is just kind of … things are …”
“Complicated.” She let the word drag. “Yes, I know.”
There were a few beats of silence. “I don’t like the way you said that.”
“How did I say it?”
“All … cynical and shit. Like you think I’m just messing with your head or …”
“I never said you were just messing with my head. Didn’t I just say I understood your situation?”
“No, you didn’t say that.”
“Well, I do, okay? Let me say it clearly this time: I understand your situation. You have a girlfriend. Who’s just been through something. And because of that …”
“Because of that, what, Zora?”
He only ever called her ‘Zora’ when he was about to lose his cool.
“I just … I get the situation you’re in, okay? I’m not stupid.”
“No one said you …”
“Look. Can we just … You had a crappy day. An even crappier weekend. A lot’s going on for you. So, let’s not make it worse, okay? Let’s just stop. And talk another time.”
“No. Not another time. Right now. Don’t you get it? Because I have a lot goin’ on, you’re who I need to talk to. Not another time. Now.”
Feeling her lower lip wobble, Zora looked down, hoping she wasn’t making a spectacle of herself.
“Well, we can’t always have what we want, Deuce,” she said, her voice breaking a little.
He gave a laugh. “Yeah. Don’t worry. You taught me that lesson. Well.”
“I just … I don’t know what you want me to say.”
Neither of them spoke for a long time, but Zora listened to him breathing on the other end of the line. The frustration was palpable.
Deuce exhaled again, and when he spoke, sounded like he had calmed himself down a little.
“Just … talk to me. It doesn’t matter what you say. I just need to hear your voice right now.”
Zora felt her throat tighten further.
“Look, I know how this might feel. How it might look. But … you’re my best friend, Zee. My best fuckin’ friend in the world.”
Her face crumpled, and Zora pressed the heel of a hand to her forehead, squeezing her eyes tightly shut and trying to regain her composure.
“Kal is your best friend,” she said lamely.
“Yeah. But … you and me? That’s …”
Magic.
They had gone to the Poconos spontaneously one weekend when they were still in school. It was a Thursday afternoon, and all they had ahead of them was a long, routine of the same parties and friends, the same ol’-same ol’ Sunday scramble to get ready for classes.
Let’s just go somewhere. Somewhere we’ve never been, Deuce said.
With only one day’s worth of clothes, they drove two-and-a-half hours to the Poconos and rented a small cabin near Pocono Lake. It had a small kitchen of dubious cleanliness, a shower that spit out a stream of only lukewarm water, and an almost grassless backyard with a rusty swing set that had obviously seen much better days.
But they loved it.
It was like running away from civilization and pretending to be the last man and woman on earth, living off the land, and off the grid. In a small local store, they bought juice, cereal and milk, bread, cheese, chips, precooked burgers and buns, and all the fixings. The clerk in the liquor store one door over let them buy a bottle of wine without asking for ID.
The first night, half-drunk and full of the greasy burgers they made for dinner, they christened the rickety old bed in the sole bedroom, making slow, sweet, quiet love, bathed in perspiration because the overhead fan was one more thing in the house that barely worked.
They flung open the windows for air, and outside, the wind rustled the leaves on the large mature trees that bowed toward the cabin. When they had exhausted themselves, and Deuce collapsed atop her, he lifted his head and smiled.
You and me … every time, he said. Every single time. It’s just … magic.
After that, she teased him about it sometimes, because he wasn’t usually so corny and sentimental. Sometimes when they were together, lying in bed with limbs intertwined, or even just doing something mundane, things got intense, so intense Zora wasn’t always sure she could handle it. At times like that, the connection between them felt so vital that she wanted to crawl inside Deuce and become one flesh with him, so she tried to lift that heaviness with a question, whispered in his ear.
Is this magic?
Because it was. And she just wasn’t sure she knew what to do with that.
That weekend in the Poconos, even with only one day’s worth of clothes, they stayed two more nights, and made magic over, and over again.
“Zee,” Deuce said now. “It’s just … things are so fucked up right now. But no matter whatever else happens, I want … I need my best friend back.”
And before she could think better of it, she answered.
“You have me.”
~~~
Regan was waiting for him in his living room when he got home, sitting on his sofa, her legs folded beneath her. She looked up when Deuce entered, carrying the bag from the Spanish restaurant down the street. Wearing one of his t-shirts, and a pair of his sweats, which was enormous on her, Regan’s shoulders sagged in relief when he came into view.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi.” Her voice was small.
“How was your day?” He went to sit next to her on the sofa, setting the bag of food on the coffee table between them. “How d’you feel?”
Regan shrugged.
There were smudges beneath her eyes and she seemed to have not combed her hair all day, but just pulled it back at her nape.
“Talked to anyone?
”
“My parents,” she said, her voice a croak.
“Oh. Good. What’d they …?”
“They want to come. I told them they didn’t need to, but they’re insisting. Saying that I need someone to take care of me for a while. But I … I told them I had you.”
Deuce nodded.
“Was that alright?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Of course.”
“Can you tell them that?” Regan continued.
“Tell them what?”
“If you talk to them, tell them I’m fine with you, maybe you could persuade them not to come.”
“You don’t think it might be good if they did come though?”
“No, Deuce, I don’t!” she said, her voice sounding stronger suddenly. “My parents don’t know anything about my life here. If they see my apartment, they’ll probably lose their shit and try to pressure me to go back to Ohio with them. They already have all these crazy ideas about New York, and this will only …”
“Okay, okay.” He backed down. “I hear you.” He took a deep breath. “So, you want me to talk to them.”
Regan nodded. “Yes. Just … If they talk to you, they’ll understand that I’m being taken care of. They’ll back off and I can just …” She ran her fingers through a loose shock of hair that was hanging into her face. “I just need a little time and I’ll pull myself together. I don’t need them both in my tiny apartment, breathing down my neck all the time, or …”
“Okay.” Deuce stood and grabbed the bag of food. “Lemme get changed and we’ll eat. Then we’ll talk about what you want me to tell …”
“Tonight?” Regan pressed. “Can you talk to them tonight?”
“Yeah. I’ll talk to them tonight.”
Regan sighed. “Thank you, baby,” she said. She slumped into the sofa and let her head fall back, closing her eyes. “Thank you.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“I had a really good time. Thank you for inviting me.”
Zora turned awkwardly in the backseat of the Uber to face Nicolas.
After dinner, and then an hour in a jazz club downtown, he insisted on getting a car to take her home, and riding with her to make sure she got there alright. Though it was true that the evening had been a good time, she spent the last half hour worrying about this moment, when they pulled up in front of her building.
“I’m not about to just let you out at the curb,” Nicolas said. “Gotta walk you up to your door.”
“No, it’s …”
“I have to,” he insisted.
He leaned over and tapped their driver on the shoulder, letting him know he would just be a minute, then got out of the car on the traffic side, going around to open Zora’s door for her. She stepped out and smiled at him, fishing into her bag for her keys, aware of Nicolas just behind her, less than a foot away.
If he walked her to the door, did it mean he expected her to kiss him? If he did, what the hell was she supposed to do?
Kiss him back, you idiot, she told herself.
After all, he was attractive. Not only was he attractive objectively speaking, she was—subjectively speaking—attracted to him. It didn’t hurt either that he smelled so good, and when they were in the jazz club, where there was standing-room only, he stayed close. Close enough for her to feel his body heat, but never touching.
That respectful but protective distance made her feel seen and cared for; claimed, but not crowded.
She hadn’t had that feeling in a little while now. Deuce used to grasp her hand when they were in public, his hold firm and assertive, often pulling her close against his side and draping his arm over her shoulder and across her chest.
“So, what’re the chances that Seef is home, waiting for you to get back?” Nicolas asked as she let them into the building.
“I’d say about it’s about a one-hundred percent certainty,” Zora said, glancing over her shoulder to smile at him.
Nicolas smiled back, flashing those perfect teeth. “I don’t blame him,” he said.
Nicolas, Zora learned from the moment they began their evening together, was a hipster. When she walked into the restaurant, which she had allowed him to choose, he caught her eye immediately. He would have caught her eye even if he wasn’t her date.
Wearing a pork-pie hat, narrow-legged brown plaid pants that stopped just above his ankles and a tailored vest over an orange shirt, he looked dapper and well put-together. On his feet were clearly expensive brown brogues and striped brown-and-white socks.
The outfit was trendy, but not trying too hard, and made Zora smile as soon as she spotted him.
As she approached, Nicolas stood, his eyes skating over her appreciatively. She had worn a dress for a change, a long halter that showed off her arms and back. To get out of the house without Asif wrestling her back into her bedroom to change, she had draped a pashmina over her shoulders. By the twitch around his mouth, she could tell her cousin hadn’t been fooled, but he let her go without argument, probably because he trusted her date.
She wore the halter because she wanted Nicolas to know right away that if he was hoping for a demure, traditional Muslim girl, he wasn’t getting that with her.
Thankfully, he hadn’t seemed scandalized, or even surprised when she showed up, carrying the pashmina over an arm, rather than covering her shoulders and arms.
You look beautiful, he told her.
Then he had ushered her with a hand on her elbow to their table.
They talked easily, and comfortably all through dinner, sharing funny stories about what it had been like, being first generation American kids with Senegalese parents. They talked about food in their homes, in New York, in Dakar; about having family in France, in Canada and all over the globe, about the musical and cultural diaspora and all its curiosities.
And though it hadn’t been the plan, they went to listen to music afterwards because they were enjoying each other’s company. In the end, they only left because though the club was cool, Zora had been standing the entire time in her high heels and they were beginning to pinch a little.
Now, at the door to the apartment, she turned to look at Nicolas and he smiled at her yet again.
“Thank you for coming out with me,” he said. “I had a good time, too.”
Zora bobbed her head in a short, awkward nod. “Yeah. Of course.”
Nicolas tilted his head to one side and leaned in, and she held her breath, letting her lips relax and soften, preparing to be kissed. She didn’t know if she wanted it, exactly. But she wouldn’t mind if it happened. And part of her was curious to just … see how it might feel, to kiss someone who wasn’t Deuce.
But Nicolas’ lips landed at the corner of her mouth, and only for a second. It was a kiss that said, ‘I want more, but maybe you’re not ready, and I respect that.’
When he pulled away, Zora smiled, because as it turned out, that kind of kiss was perfect for where her head was right now.
“Goodnight,” she said.
“G’night.” He turned and headed for the elevator, looking back over his shoulder once, just as Zora opened the door and went inside.
She was leaning against the door, contemplating the evening, and the kiss that had punctuated it when Asif came wandering out of the kitchen. He looked her over, as though checking to make sure all her clothing was intact.
“He walk you up?” he asked.
“None of your business,” Zora sang.
Asif shrugged. “I know he did. He ain’t crazy.”
Zora rolled her eyes and tossed her pashmina on the sofa, leaning down to unfasten her shoes.
“What’re you doing here? It’s Friday. Primetime for the Ho Brigade.”
“‘Bout to head out right now,” her cousin said. “Just needed to make sure, you know …” Asif shifted his weight a little and let his sentence trail off into silence.
Despite herself, Zora was touched. There were worse things in the world than having a caring, overprotective family.
&n
bsp; “Well, I’m home and safe, so feel free to go out and … do what you do.”
Asif shoved himself off the doorframe where he had been partly leaning.
“Yeah, well … if there’s gon’ be overnight guests tonight they better be mine. ‘Cause after you just went out with Nicolas, that would be messed-up.”
Zora sighed.
It had taken Asif a few days to get over his encounter with Deuce in the wee hours of the morning the previous weekend. He gave her the cold shoulder for three days and since then, his disapproval showed up in not-so-thinly-veiled comments like the one he just made.
“Don’t worry. My only plan is to eat my Haagen Dazs ice cream and watch television.”
Asif paused and looked over his shoulder, grimacing a little.
“About the Haagen Dazs …”
“Asif!”
~~~
This time when the phone rang, Zora answered without looking, already knowing who it was. She wondered whether these calls happened late at night because Regan was asleep, or because he wanted to make sure she was alone. Something told her it was a little bit of both, but probably more the latter.
But when she picked up, the voice on the phone was not Deuce’s. There was music and the sound of voices, faint in the background.
“Hey. It’s Nic,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind me calling so late.”
“No.” Zora sat up in bed, feeling as exposed as though he had shoved open the door and walked into her bedroom. “It’s fine. I was … watching a Swedish crime series on Netflix.”
Nicolas laughed. “I’ve been known to have some nights like that.”
A brief silence fell between them and then he took a breath.
“I just wanted to say again what a good time I had. And that I feel kinda high off you right now …”
Zora smiled. “Thank you?”
Nicolas laughed. “Believe me, I know this means you’ll probably put me in the category of ‘Corny Dude I Went Out With That One Time’ but I just felt moved to tell you that meeting and spending time with a woman like you makes me … hopeful. Y’know?”
“No,” Zora laughed. “I don’t know. But if I gave you something as profound as ‘hope’ then you’re welcome.”
Rhyme & Reason Page 12
