Soul Caress

by Kim Shaw

  “Sir, I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at, and I would really appreciate if you would just spell it out for me,” Malik said tensely.

  “All right, son, let’s put the cards on the table. The Kennedy you’ve been spending time with is not the real Kennedy. My daughter has a challenging career, which is both time consuming and growing. She is headed places and with focus and dedication, she will be a very successful woman. She has social obligations and responsibilities that also take up a great deal of her time. Now, you probably can’t relate to what I’m saying, but Kennedy is not the kind of woman who has time for card games and backyard barbecues.”

  Malik bristled at his statement, his lower jaw pulsing as he ground his molars together.

  “Sir, I know that Kennedy is a motivated, ambitious woman. That’s one of the things that I like about her, her drive.”

  “Right. You say that now, Malik, but I doubt seriously that you understand all of the implications that go along with that. You work as an orderly, isn’t that right? You work a set shift, what, thirty-five hours a week? You get two weeks vacation a year and a few sick or personal days. What you make in salary in a month Kennedy brings home in a week.”

  “So this is about money?” Malik said, understanding spreading slowly across his tense face.

  “No, it’s not just about money. When you vacation, where do you go? Do you vacation in the Pocono Mountains in Pennsylvania? Perhaps to Florida for a week or someplace like that. Kennedy has vacationed all over the globe. She cut teeth in the Turkish Islands and we have a villa in the South of France. Face it, son, you and Kennedy are worlds apart and no matter how devoted you are to her, you will never have anything real in common.”

  There it was. Loud and in Technicolor. On the way to this meeting Malik had nearly driven himself crazy trying to figure out what Joseph Daniels could possibly have to say to him, and what’s more, how he would say it, but here it was. Now that it was out there, Malik didn’t know how to respond. Part of him felt relieved as all pretenses were finally shattered. The Daniels did not now, nor would they ever, accept him as a part of their daughter’s life. He knew that he should feel angry, but somehow that wasn’t the first emotion that came to him. The overwhelming feeling he felt was sadness. For Kennedy, because she was a beautiful person despite having come from such ugliness and for Joseph and Elmira Daniels because they didn’t even know how ugly they really were beneath the Cartier and Dolce & Gabbana masks they wore.

  “Mr. Daniels, with all due respect, Kennedy is a grown woman, last time I checked. If she chooses to be with someone like me, then I think that what you feel really doesn’t matter.”

  Malik snatched the napkin from his lap and tossed it onto his still-empty plate as he pushed his chair back from the table.

  “I beg your pardon, young man, but Kennedy is my daughter, and it damned well does matter what I feel,” Joseph said, banging his hand against the table.

  His action drew a couple of looks from patrons seated at nearby tables. He glanced at them and returned his gaze to Malik, trying to collect his composure.

  “Mr. Daniels, I think this conversation should end here, before one of us says something he’ll regret,” Malik said.

  “How much?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “How much will it take to get you out of my daughter’s life? Whatever it is you’re after, Mr. Crawford, Mrs. Daniels and I will see that you get it.”

  “After? What, so now you think I’m after Kennedy’s money? Are you crazy, man?” Malik stared incredulously at Joseph, his anger now replaced by absolute disbelief.

  “Kennedy comes from a wealthy family and she also has a very successful future ahead of her. Don’t tell me that you have any prospects of ever living the kind of lifestyle that Kennedy lives,” Kennedy’s father said with a sneer.

  “My prospects are none of your goddamned business, Mr. Daniels. But, you can rest assured that I don’t want any of Kennedy’s money, and I damned sure don’t want any of yours.”

  Malik stood up abruptly, shaking the table as he did and causing his untouched glass of wine to tip over. The liquid spread across the table in the direction of Mr. Daniels, dripping off into his lap before he could move. Malik stormed away as the waiter rushed over to Mr. Daniels’s aid.

  “Malik,” Joseph called after him.

  His call fell on deaf ears.

  Malik walked the streets for hours, his anger fueling his feet, pushing him down block after block. He did not want to go home to an empty apartment or, worse, to Malcolm’s pessimism. For the first time since he’d met her, he also did not want to go to Kennedy. He could not see her right now and manage to stop the fury he felt toward her parents from spilling out in front of her. He felt dirty and demeaned and he feared how those feelings might make him act toward her. He had no idea what he would say and do when he next saw her. He needed some time on his own to sort things out.

  Malik finally came to rest on a bar stool at Murphy’s. He realized that he’d made a huge mistake as soon as he walked through the door and bumped into Nona Torres, who was on her way out of the establishment with two women he didn’t know.

  “Malik, fancy seeing you here,” she chirped.

  As usual, Nona looked like a million bucks. She wore all black tonight, a short tight skirt that showed off her toned, shapely legs, and a fitted V-neck sweater to which most brothers who spotted her would have shouted have mercy and grinned foolishly as she passed them by.

  “Nona, how’re doing?” Malik asked.

  “Fine, now that I’m seeing your handsome face,” she flirted.

  Malik wanted to be annoyed, and perhaps had he not been in such a foul mood and in desperate need of a distraction, he might not have been affected by her pretty face and sweet smile.

  “Same old Nona, huh? Are you always on?” Malik laughed.

  Nona’s coy smile was little-girl infectious, but Malik knew that she was in no way innocent. She was a predator in every sense of the word and as usual, she made him feel like a baby lamb being led to slaughter.

  “What can I say, baby?”

  The twinkle in her eye was not lost on him. She reached out and touched his arm.

  “You look like you could use a drink,” she replied.

  “I thought you were headed out with your friends,” Malik nodded in the direction of the two scantily clad women standing near the doorway.

  “I’ve always got time for you,” Nona purred.

  She stepped away from Malik and spoke briefly to her girlfriends, who gave Malik the once over before sending Nona knowing glances. He resisted the urge to baaa.

  One drink turned into two, which multiplied into four. The music was good and the company was scintillating. Malik was feeling no pain by the time Nona suggested they go back to her place for a nightcap. She had succeeded in pushing thoughts of Joseph Daniels from his mind, which was what he wanted. What he really wanted, however, was to forget about Kennedy, as well. He wanted to forget that he’d met her, forget how she’d stirred his soul and made him want things that he could never have. He knew that Nona was not even close to being what he wanted, but she was there and there was no one telling him that he wasn’t good enough to have her.

  Nona shifted her car’s gears to park after pulling into a space outside the townhouse she shared with a girlfriend. She leaned over to Malik, whose head was resting against the passenger-side window with his eyes closed. She laid a hand on his upper thigh and squeezed firmly, her breath causing his ear to tingle.

  “I’ll make you forget about whatever is troubling you, Malik,” she said.

  Her tongue slithered into his ear, teasing him with promises of what was to come. He tried to lose himself in the moment and to allow Nona to work her feminine wiles on him. He shut his eyes tightly, but all he could see was Kennedy. He tried to inhale Nona’s scent, he moved his hands through her hair, but it was Kennedy’s sweet smell that stimulated him. It was Kennedy’s firm thighs he env
isioned wrapped around his and her hair in which he wanted to bury his face. After several minutes of heavy petting with Nona, Malik abruptly pushed her away from him.

  “Stop it, Nona,” he said when she reached for him again.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she demanded, her desire evident in the throaty tone of voice she used.

  “Look, I’m…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here with you, like this. It’s not right,” Malik struggled to explain without sounding like an idiot as he adjusted his clothing.

  “Damn it, Malik, I’m not proposing marriage to you. I want you. I’ve made that pretty clear since the day I met you and I know that you want me, or else you wouldn’t be here. What is the problem? Why can’t we just both get what we want and then see what happens?”

  “Nona, I don’t roll like that. I’m sorry that I led you on. You’re a beautiful woman and a man would have to be out of his mind not to see that. But, Nona, this…this, us—I just can’t do it. All it would be is sex, Nona, and I don’t want to use you like that.”

  “Use me? What makes you think it wouldn’t be me who was doing the using?” she countered.

  Malik laughed and even Nona cracked a smile.

  “My bad. Well, in that case, I don’t want to be used by you,” he said.

  Malik opened the passenger door and climbed out of the car. He walked around to the driver’s side and helped Nona out. He laced his arm in hers and escorted her to the front door of her apartment.

  “Do you want me to call you a cab?” she asked.

  “Nah, I’m going to walk a little bit…try to clear my head. Thanks, Nona.”

  “Don’t mention it,” she said, touching the side of his face lightly with the back of her silky hand.

  Malik turned to walk away before his resolve crumbled beneath her fiery touch.

  “Malik,” Nona called after he had taken a few steps.

  “Yeah?”

  “I hope things work out with her,” she said.

  Malik considered her intuitive words and smiled slightly.

  “Me, too.”

  Chapter 19

  Kennedy had come home for the Twentieth Annual American Physicians’ Dinner honoring her father for his years of excellence as a cosmetic surgeon. It was quite an achievement and although Kennedy was not in the mood to visit with her parents, still bitter over their treatment of Malik and the constant pressure they were placing on her, she knew that it was important for her father to have both of his daughters and his wife at his side.

  Publicly, the Daniels were still a tight-knit unit and no matter what was going on behind the scenes, her parents strained to uphold that image. During the entire evening, Madison kept to herself, sitting in a corner and silently nursing glass after glass of white wine, the strongest thing her parents would let her have to drink. Whenever Elmira would bring someone over to introduce her to, Madison would offer a polite smile, saying little, and would roll her eyes behind her mother’s back as they departed.

  Kennedy had wanted Malik to accompany her to the dinner, but under the circumstances, decided against it. She still clung firmly to the hope that in time, her parents would come around and grow to at least like Malik. Something had to give because she did not know how much more she could take.

  Elmira had seen fit to invite Bret Fields to the function to be Kennedy’s date. Bret was the chosen one as far as Elmira was concerned. He remained by Kennedy’s side all night, waiting on her hand and foot. While his gestures were designed out of a simple desire to be of assistance to her, she felt smothered. In fact, the three hours she spent that evening with Bret reminded her in no uncertain terms that she was handicapped and that she would never be fully independent again. Somehow, when Malik helped her, she was never left feeling that way.

  Kennedy and Bret first met three years ago at a Republican Party Meeting of Friends fund-raiser that her parents had dragged her to. Their parents were both members of the club and their fathers had become golf buddies in recent years. While their courtship had not been arranged by their parents, it had certainly been coaxed along by them. Bret was a Morehouse man, a Kappa and a rising star attorney. He was also very easy on the eyes. At six feet five inches, athletic build, he was often mistaken for a male model. After graduating from Harvard School of Law, he landed an associate position at one of the most prominent law firms in North Carolina and was headed to the top with a bullet. Bret had his sights set on becoming one of the youngest Supreme Court Justices in history.

  Their attraction to one another was not earth-shattering or explosive. Kennedy did not feel butterflies in her stomach when she looked at him or even when he called her the first time. Yet, there was a mutual interest that grew over time. Their backgrounds were similar and their families couldn’t be happier when they became a couple. Looking back on it, Kennedy realized that their breakup was as uneventful as their relationship had been. They had been dating one another exclusively for a little over a year and, although there had been no official proposal, it was assumed that they would one day get married. However, it had also become obvious to Kennedy that Bret was not the type of man who could handle not being the only star in the show. As Kennedy’s career also began to flourish, Bret became more insistent that she slow down. He didn’t see the need for her to work so hard, even though he did. Kennedy soon realized that Bret wanted a woman who would be the background. When she accepted the position at Morgan Stanley in D.C., she knew that it would mean the end to their relationship. She did not hesitate for one second. It wasn’t until she met Malik that she really felt valued for the whole person that she was and not what was expected for her to be.

  Malik. There he was again. Always present in her thoughts, always the prevailing thought in her mind. She had never before been this consumed over a man and it scared her. She had not truly realized how important he had become in her life and now that that relationship was being threatened, she felt a sense of panic. To a large degree, that is what kept her at odds with her parents because she had grown so tired of their constant interference in her life, be it outright demands or thinly veiled threats. Yet there remained the nagging notion that they may be right. Perhaps it was too much to expect that she and Malik could build a life together. Maybe their differences were, indeed, too great. Kennedy, fiercely determined to believe in the possibilities of love, would never utter those words aloud. However, that did not stop them from creeping into her thoughts every now and then.

  “So, Kennedy, your mother tells me that you’re planning to start your own foundation for the visually impaired. I think that’s great,” Bret said.

  Kennedy’s attention was pulled away from the couple seated behind their table. While she could not see their faces, she had been eavesdropping on their conversation. The man had just proposed and through tears, the woman accepted. The love they felt for one another was undeniable as they discussed plans for their future. Kennedy could not help but feel a boulder-sized and bitter-tasting lump of jealousy settle within her chest.

  “My mother talks too much,” she said without humor.

  Bret laughed.

  “She reminds me of my grandmother. She’s my biggest cheerleader.”

  “Now that’s a funny thought, Elmira as a cheerleader.” Kennedy laughed sardonically. “Seriously, though, the foundation is my mother’s idea. I told her that it’s a great idea and that I’d be happy to help out in any way I can. Somehow her feverish little brain translated that into something else.”

  “You know how our mothers are. They think we can do anything, rule the world, even. Sometimes they want so much,” Bret said wistfully.

  He stared into his glass without speaking for a moment. Kennedy picked up on the slightly melancholy tone in his voice, something that was very unusual for the Bret she had known.

  “Don’t tell me Wonderboy is feeling overwhelmed in his quest to take over the galaxy?” she joked.

  “Never that,” Bret laughed. “Let me get that for you,” he said, as Kenne
dy reached for a piece of sourdough bread from the basket in the center of their table.

  “Bret, you’ve got to stop,” Kennedy said at last.

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop treating me like a crippled old woman. I can’t take it.”

  “I’m sorry, Kennedy…I just, I think it’s amazing how you’re dealing with this.”

  “It’s not like I have a choice, now, is it? Look, Bret, I know my mother has told you everything about my condition, because like I said earlier, she talks too much. But despite what she and my father think, I have no idea whether I will regain my vision or not. Consequently, I have to take care of myself. I have my whole life ahead of me, and I can’t sit around waiting for other folks to do it for me. So trust me when I say that I’m capable of buttering my bread and many other neat little tricks. Now, if you can back off just a little bit, we can enjoy the rest of our dinner together. What do you say?”

  Bret contemplated her for a moment, a smile playing at his lips.

  “Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?” Bret asked suddenly, changing the subject.

  Kennedy smiled. Bret had always been complimentary of her looks. She would not call him superficial exactly. It was just that he was the kind of person who placed a great deal of significance on appearance. He dressed impeccably at all times, even when he was just going to the gym or the club to play racquetball. Every one of his friends were handsome, well-dressed men and their girlfriends were all knockouts, whether by nature or by design. Sometimes, when in the presence of so much concentrated physical beauty, Kennedy felt like she was a raggedy little orphan who had been dropped off in a land of make-believe princes and princesses.

  She ignored his compliment. They chatted for much of the evening and slowly Kennedy felt the pressure from the past few weeks being pushed into the far corner of a closet at the back of her consciousness. She began to relax and actually had a good time talking with Bret. They danced a few times to the music played by the mini orchestra, and she settled into his arms. She got a warm, familiar feeling from being close to Bret and she remembered how simple and comfortable their life together had been. Being with someone who society expected you to be with was so much easier. That was a fact that Kennedy could not deny. However, the problem was how to get your heart to reconcile with that.