by Kim Shaw
“Oh, no, Skyy. Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?”
“Aah, you know I hate to be the bearer of bad news. Hopefully, it’s nothing too serious. His doctor is running some more tests. I’m going to spend a few weeks with them, running errands and taking him back and forth to his doctor’s visits. But, my dear, I’ll definitely head back up here to see you before I fly out to Italy again. In the meantime, behave yourself.”
“Me? Of course, don’t I always behave?” Kennedy asked devilishly.
Skyy left Kennedy in a state of serious introspection. There was no sense to be made out of her feelings for Malik—a guy who she’d known for just a few short weeks but felt like she’d known for a lifetime just the same.
She knew that she and Malik had no business being together. The circumstances under which they met were just the tip of the iceberg. There was no way that Malik would be acceptable to her parents. The Daniels had made it clear that their daughters were to choose men whose backgrounds mirrored their own.
Kennedy’s privileged upbringing was one in which she was taught that there are two types of black people—the right ones and the wrong ones. The right kind of black people hold Ivy League degrees from the likes of Harvard or Yale or, in the alternative, from historically black institutions such as Spelman or Morehouse. The right kind of black people wore with pride their skin tones, and those ranging from a shade lighter than eggshell to that of a shiny new copper penny were held in higher esteem. The right kind of black people know which fork is the salad fork, summer in Paris and belong to Jack and Jill of America, Inc.
Kennedy had been taught early that there were undeniably the wrong kind of black folks—those who hold mundane nine-to-five clerical jobs or spend any portion of their lives on public assistance. The wrong kind of black folks don’t know the difference between a Merlot and a Cabernet and spend a week, if they are lucky, at the Jersey Shore each summer.
All of her life, Kennedy and Madison were admonished to stay away from the wrong kind of black folks. Up until the fateful night of her car accident, it appeared as though Kennedy would continue down the path her parents had laid out for her. Shattered glass and the crunch of metal, however, had sent her in another direction—one in which a blue-collar man from a working-class background had captured her heart.
Chapter 10
Malik walked around the spacious living room of Kennedy’s apartment, studying the various framed photographs. He picked out Madison, Kennedy’s sister, immediately in a picture of the two of them posed next to a huge Christmas tree. Kennedy appeared to be a few years younger than she was now and Madison was a younger, slightly fairer in complexion, version of her. He viewed the photographs of her parents, of the four of them together and a couple of shots of Kennedy alone. All of the pictures had been posed in luxuriant surroundings. If he had had any doubts that the Daniels family was well-to-do, these pictures erased them.
Various educational degrees—undergraduate from Princeton and a masters and PhD from Georgetown University—hung from the walls. Malik was impressed yet again by Kennedy’s achievements. He was even more impressed, however, by the fact that despite her background and her pedigree, Kennedy remained unpretentious and as down-to-earth as a woman in her circumstances was allowed.
Malik had been waiting in front of her condo when the Stillwater transport van brought her and her new friend—a two-year-old Seeing Eye dog, Muppet—home. Muppet and Kennedy had been introduced toward the end of the rehabilitation process at Stillwater. The focus of what they termed vision loss adjustment therapy at Stillwater was first placed on developing Kennedy’s sense of independence and confidence at living with her limitations. Muppet had already received his training through a program that rears and prepares dogs for guide work.
Once they were placed together, Kennedy’s job was to reinforce what Muppet already knew and add new skills that applied to her life. Some of the common things people trained their Seeing Eye dogs to assist them with were things such as finding a place to sit, locating the push button at crosswalks, or recognizing a particular person by name. By the time Muppet and Kennedy were put together, Kennedy had established a poise that allowed her to learn to handle Muppet without angst.
Within a few days, the pair were like old friends and Kennedy, who’d never owned a dog of her own, could be found on the floor of her room at Stillwater snuggling with Muppet, who lapped up the attention greedily. Kennedy was already amazed by how much Muppet knew how to do on his own and slowly she began to trust his eyes and senses as much as she had once upon a time trusted her own.
Kennedy had shyly given Malik the address and the keys the night before and he’d promised, with equal nervousness, to be there to help her get settled. As her recovery at Stillwater had progressed and her release date drew near, she had thought that she could handle things on her own. However, as she made the final preparations for her return to her home, her initial thoughts gave way to doubt.
The assisted-living specialist, Martha Duncan, had been cautioning her that resuming her life would be tough and that not having at least a little bit of help would make it even more difficult.
As Skyy was back in Italy and Kennedy was reluctant to ask her to put her work and life on hold to babysit her, she considered asking her mother to come. For a split second she considered having her mother living in her apartment with her and just as quickly as the thought had entered her mind, she dismissed it. Although Elmira always meant well, it wouldn’t take long before she’d shredded Kennedy’s last nerve. Besides, she later found out that her contemplation was wasted because her mother had accompanied her father on a trip to Mannheim, Germany, for a medical symposium. He was serving as a guest on an international panel of surgical specialists.
When Kennedy decided to ask Malik to help her transition from Stillwater to her home, it was with an equal amount of confidence that he was the best choice and trepidation that he would accept. She could not entirely dismiss the thought that perhaps she had overworked his kind nature and asking him to help her outside of the confines of his job was asking too much. She was relieved when he accepted without hesitation and he was relieved that she could not see the euphoric grin that covered his face at her request.
He’d arrived early and surveyed the apartment, taking it upon himself to move a few pieces of furniture around that he thought would impede her movement.
“It feels so good to finally be home,” Kennedy exclaimed as she stood in the middle of her kitchen.
“I hear you. You’ve got a beautiful place,” Malik complimented. “So what would you like to do first?”
Malik guided Kennedy to the sofa. Once seated Kennedy leaned back, relaxing for the first time that day.
“I was so nervous about coming home, but I just realized something,” she said.
“What’s that?” Malik said, stroking the top of Muppet’s head.
“This is my home. I decorated it and organized it. I know exactly where everything is, so why should I be anxious about making my way around it?”
“You shouldn’t be. Although I do have a confession,” Malik said, hesitating. “I moved a few things around while I waited for you…just to make it easier for you to get around. You’re not going to hit me, are you?”
“That depends, Mr. Crawford. What’d you move?”
Malik explained how he opened up the living room a bit, moving the sofa from it’s place in front of the window to a more advantageous location against the wall. That way, her path to the windows and to the room that served as her office was clear. He also moved the two plant stands to the corners of the room. She did not object as he led her around the room, counting steps between various spots and learning landmarks that she could use to get around without tripping.
Together they organized the kitchen, placing Braille labels on canned goods and dividing the shelves in the cabinet by putting canned fruit on one side of a shelf, canned veggies on another and all the same kind of boxed foods together
on another shelf. The baking stuff was grouped together on one shelf and everything was labeled.
They went grocery shopping for fresh fruits, vegetables and meats. Most of the refrigerated items were identifiable by the shape of the container. For things like salad dressings and other condiments, whose bottles are all very similar, they used Braille labels. The first few days were rocky as Kennedy dealt with anger over the things she could not do on her own. She was embarrassed at times by having to ask Malik if a shirt matched with a certain pair of pants or if she’d put on the right color lipstick. His patience with her irritation helped those feelings to pass, and the more comfortable she grew in asking for help, the easier things became for her. She also grew more independent with each passing day, yet for the things she did need help with, Malik was right there.
Chapter 11
Kennedy stood in the entryway of the darkened living room. She listened intently, until the rhythm of Malik’s breathing reached her ears. He was standing near the window and to her trembling legs the distance seemed a thousand miles away. She walked slowly across the living room, one hand stretched in front of her. She counted the steps in her head, estimating her way to the sofa, past the plant stand and finally to Malik. She reached out, her fingers tentatively making contact with the soft cotton fabric of the top of his pajama pants. She moved her hand slowly up the length of his naked back. The smoothness of his skin beneath her fingers triggered a clenching sensation in the center of her belly. She let her fingers be her eyes as they traveled the path of his torso.
Malik did not move. He had been waiting in the stillness of that night and countless nights before—even before he had met her. It was as if all of the women in his life before Kennedy had just been fillers. Not one of them had ever touched that part of his soul that needed to be touched and loved. Kennedy was the woman he’d been dreaming about before he was even aware that something was missing in his life. From the moment he’d first talked to her, even during her suffering and pain, his heart had finally felt complete. He’d wanted to hold her from that first day and love her past her pain. Without realizing it at the time, he had done just that and she had done so much more for him.
Every morning he’d wake up on the sofa in Kennedy’s living room, feeling restless. He’d get up and make a fresh pot of coffee. Despite Kennedy’s protests he’d also make a pot of hot cereal, usually oatmeal, her favorite, and slice a few pieces of melon for her breakfast.
“I can learn how to do this for myself, Malik,” she’d say.
“I know you can but I want to do it,” he’d reply.
And she’d let him every morning. He’d feed Muppet and take the dog for a walk before heading off to work at Stillwater. The days passed slowly for him as his thoughts traveled back to Kennedy. He called on each of his breaks to check on her and each time she would chide him for being overprotective. Secretly, however, she reveled in his attention. When he returned to the apartment in the evenings, slightly apprehensive about entering using the key she’d given him, she’d be happy to see him, erasing his doubts. Together, they’d prepare an evening meal, clean up in the kitchen and go through Kennedy’s mail.
He helped her write out checks for bills and answer the never-ending correspondence from friends and associates wishing her well. Finally, as the night fell around them, they would settle on the sofa and either read from one of their mystery novels or listen to music and talk.
Their routine had become commonplace to them without any fanfare or heavy contemplation on either of their parts. When Kennedy would retire to her bedroom for the night, Malik remained in the living room, but his thoughts climbed into bed with Kennedy and wrapped themselves around her. For the first couple of nights he had tried to settle himself in the guest bedroom, but was unable to get comfortable. He felt as though he were too far away from her. Being on the living room sofa seemed to put him more at ease. Just as he strove to protect and shelter her during her waking hours, he wanted to hold her in his arms and listen to her breathing at night. He settled for being close enough to hear her if she cried out for help. Then he would spring into action, ready to serve her, body and soul.
Even so, the past few days spent sleeping on her sofa had been torture for him. But he would not allow himself to push her. For the longest time he had viewed their relationship as caregiver and patient. Then they’d moved to a stage of mutual friendship and respect. Yet he’d felt the shift once again when they’d moved toward love and lust, and although he’d fought it intellectually, his heart could not deny what he felt for her. He wanted Kennedy as a friend and a lover. However, he told himself that if their relationship moved beyond friendship, it would be on her terms and at her discretion. As much as it tormented him being so near to her and not being able to be with her, he waited.
Ironically, he had been wanting her to touch him like this for so long that now that the moment was here, he felt paralyzed. As her hands glided up his back, his heart seized in uncontrollable spasms. Every muscle in his body ached to be visited by the softness of her, yet part of him now resisted. As strong and independent as she was, Malik had spied the vulnerable part of her that she kept hidden. The passion that had been building between them for the past few weeks could not be denied, but he did not want to do anything that would cause her one moment of pain. The question that burned continuously in his brain was what he could possibly do for a woman like Kennedy and, as yet, no answer had become clear to him, no matter how long he thought about it.
Right now, however, his mind would not allow him to think clearly. Kennedy had moved closer, her body pressing against his back. He could feel the voluptuous mass of her breasts on his shoulder blades. She ran her hands around the front of his body slowly, across his ribs and his stomach muscles contracted at her touch.
“Malik,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his shoulder.
“Kennedy…I,” he began, but lust caused his throat to close around the rest of his words.
“Ssh, I know, I know,” Kennedy said.
Malik knew that she did, in fact, know what was in his heart and mind, just as he knew what was in hers. It did not matter that they were from two very different backgrounds, had grown up worlds apart and now lived lifestyles that were as far removed as different universes. Theirs were kindred spirits, meant to find each other at this time for reasons that were outside of either of their abilities to grasp.
Malik turned to face her. In the darkness her smooth skin glistened. He moved his hand up the nape of her neck into the silky brown hair that hung down her back. He wanted to lose himself inside of her, to find a place where doubt and worry did not exist. Malik knew that within her he could find the peace that his spirit craved. Slowly and deliberately, he bent his head down towards hers and covered her mouth with his. She sighed when their tongues touched and began to dance a slow wet dance, as if she, too, had been waiting since forever for their music to begin. Their first kiss, after breathless weeks of feeling the magnetic pull between them, was sweet as chocolate—more satisfying than either thought possible.
Malik’s arms closed around Kennedy’s taut body, pulling her so close that his desire for her could no longer be disguised. His breathing became erratic as visions of her body ricocheted around his brain. He’d seen her sad, he’d seen her smiling and happy. He’d seen her scared and wiped tears of frustration from her beautiful face. All of those images had pulled him to her, allowing him to get to know her better than any words ever could.
Malik pulled himself away from her reluctantly. He scooped her effortlessly up off of her feet and into his arms. Her lips found his again in the darkness as he carried her across the living room, down the hallway and into her bedroom.
“Is there another light switch?” he asked huskily, aware of only the bright track lighting that lined the ceiling in her bedroom.
“There, above the bed,” she said, pointing.
Malik lay Kennedy down on the bed and turned on the soft lamp above the headb
oard. The room was bathed in gentle, dim light.
“I want to see you,” he said.
Kennedy reached up, running her fingers down the side of his face.
“I do see you,” she responded.
Malik lay beside her, studying her body with wonder. The white gown she wore was made of formfitting fabric, with thin straps trimmed in lace. It hugged her breasts and stopped in the middle of her thighs. He traced her collarbone with his fingers first, and then his tongue took their place. As large as his hands were, one of them was not enough to cover the fullness of her breast, although he tried his best. He squeezed and molded the flesh and then, with two fingers, concentrated on the nipples, which were pointed and erect. He tugged at the top of her gown until one mound was freed and then the other. Nipples as dark as milk chocolate stood proudly, beckoning him it seemed.
When Malik’s warm tongue circled one of her nipples, Kennedy’s back arched. The sensation was almost more than she could bare. He closed his mouth over her, sucking all of her chocolate as if his very life depended on it. He alternated between breasts, giving them an equal amount of attention and concentrating on them both in their entirety.
Kennedy began to feel feverish as the passion building within her multiplied. Her hands played with the back of Malik’s head and neck. She loved the way the coarseness of his thick hair felt against her chin and in her hands. His scent—a combination of masculinity and soap—filled her senses to the brim and as it mingled with the smell of their sex together, she felt as if she were so full that she would explode.
“I’ll be right back,” Malik said, after finally being able to pull himself away from her tasty Hershey’s kisses.
He went into the living room where his clothing was folded in a pile near the sofa. From his pants pocket, he retrieved the package of condoms that he’d bought earlier in the week. When he’d made the purchase, he’d felt somewhat guilty, as if he were scheming on making a move on Kennedy. Now, he realized that it had not been him who had been scheming at all. It had been fate guiding and planning the course of their relationship to bring them to this point, this night. He was now ecstatic that a lack of preparation would not interrupt their destiny.
