by Cydney Rax
The only reason I got up was because I could smell her breath. I thought I’d heard her in there brushing her teeth, but still. Damn.
“You up yet, sleepyhead?” she asked with a light-sounding voice.
I opened one eye. She looked blurry, but I could still see her smiling and arranging her hair into a ponytail. I shut my eye and rolled over, pulling the covers over my head and my toes.
“Get up, you,” she sang.
What was she so damned happy about? That she almost killed me last night? That she had a colossal orgasm?
I’m glad she got hers.
“Aaron, it’s time to get up. I need to eat. Want some breakfast buffet?”
I opened my eyes under the covers like she could see me. This woman had to be out of her mind. She needed to eat. Hell, I needed to call 911 so the EMS could haul my mauled ass into a private room.
She nudged me on my leg.
“Stop it, Tracey.”
“Aaron!”
She snatched the covers off me.
“I didn’t know you liked to sleep late. What’s up?” she asked.
“It’s not that I like to sleep late. I like to sleep, period. Didn’t get any sleep. I guess you didn’t notice, you were so busy snoring.”
“I don’t snore.” She looked at me like I was a lying fool.
“Yep, you do.”
“No, I don’t,” she insisted.
“Look, I’m the one who heard you. You were sleeping. You don’t know.”
“Oh, well—if I disturbed you, I apologize. Didn’t do it on purpose.”
“That’s okay. I love hearing women snore,” I murmured, and pulled the sheet up to my chest.
She paused a second and her mouth flopped open. “At any rate, I don’t want to spend all morning arguing about whether or not I snore. Okay, if it makes you feel better, I snore, but right now I want to eat.”
“I heard you once already, Trace.”
“Let’s go. I’ll pay,” she said.
I already have, I thought, as I dragged myself out the bed.
WE BREAKFASTED AT THE MOTEL’S restaurant. It was packed with people rushing to get some eats before they had to be at Hobby Airport so they could fly the hell out of Houston. Wished I were going with them.
“Hey, this buffet is great. I love these fresh strawberries and bananas and these sausage patties,” Tracey said.
The strawberries were slimy-looking, and if you stuck a fork in the sausage, you’d better make sure both your eyes were closed. I fiddled with my eggs, grits, and French toast, but enjoyed generous cups of coffee.
“So, you got any plans today?” she asked.
“Not that I know of. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
“I’m wondering something myself,” I added.
“What?” she asked, fork-severing a piece of link sausage.
“I take it you enjoyed yourself last night.”
“Most definitely. You took me there.”
“I noticed.”
“What?” She stopped chewing and started playing with her ear. “Oh, the screaming?” she blushed.
“Why didn’t you warn me? I could’ve rented a cabin out in the woods somewhere. Inglewood.”
“Oh, Aaron, I wasn’t that loud.”
“Not to a deaf person.”
“No, sweetheart, believe me, it is an honor for me to scream like that. Not every man can make me scream.”
I shifted in my seat.
“Who is every man?” I asked.
She blinked. “Well, there’s only you, really. Nobody else. I was really talking about in the past.”
“Oh . . . and what about the future?” I said in a barely audible voice.
“What about it?” she said nonchalantly.
“You plan on us hooking up again?” I said, choking out the words.
“Nope,” she said and scooped up some grits.
I set down my fork and stared at her. “Nope?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“To be honest, Aaron, I haven’t really thought about it. Hell, I can’t predict the future. Being with you was good, wonderful. But hey, you never know, you know?”
“Yeah. I thought it would be something like that,” I told her, and was shocked at how much I allowed myself to get attached. Glad to finally spend time with her, but not so glad if it meant I’d be too vulnerable.
“What are you getting at, Aaron?”
I just stared straight at her, lost in thought.
“Okay, Aaron, let me ask you something.” She blushed. “How . . . was it okay for you?”
I grunted. “That’s the point. I took you there, but I got stranded somewhere on the north side.”
“Oh, is that why you have this cute little attitude?” She blushed. “I’m sorry.”
Yeah, I can really tell, I thought. I watched Tracey cram her mouth with a biscuit.
We sat in silence for a couple of minutes, me staring either at her or at my food, not wanting to look anywhere else, not wanting to acknowledge outside interference.
“So, in other words, you want us to hook up again so you can get yours?” she asked.
I raised my eyebrows and simply looked at her.
She finished eating her biscuit and thought for a second. “Well, I’ll have to come up with something. The only reason we could—” She looked around the restaurant and whispered, “The only reason we could do this is because Miss L was away with her F-A-T-H-E-R.”
I scratched the side of my neck. Cleared my throat.
“About Miss L ... you’re not going to—”
“Aaron, hell no, and neither are you. I know you know better than to kiss and tell, right?”
“It’s cool. Trust me. Your daughter will never know a thing,” I promised.
TRACEY AND I BROKE FROM EACH other about one hour later. She decided to go grocery shopping at a nearby Kroger. I headed on home, and was driving north toward downtown. It was around eleven-fifteen by then. I had just made the transition from I-45 to the Southwest Freeway when my phone rang.
“What you want now?” I said, frowning into the phone.
“You expecting somebody?” she said with an edge.
“L-Lauren?”
“Yes, Lauren, who else?”
“N-nobody, bunny.”
“Humph. Where are you at?”
“I’m, uh, on the free—the freeway.” I swerved and almost collided with an SUV that was flying past me.
“Where you coming from, Aaron?”
“Huh?”
“I called my house and there was no answer. Mom’s cell phone is off. My dad is taking me to church, twelve-o’clock service, and I’ll be home later this afternoon.”
“Oh,” I said, glancing at my watch.
“Have you seen or heard from Mommy?”
I turned up the CD player. Montell Jordan blasted from my speakers.
“What? Can’t hear you. Hey, I’ll call you back,” I yelled.
I hung up the phone and cut off the damn power. Cut off the damn thing that would connect Lauren to me. Couldn’t be connected. Not right then.
I DECIDED TO RIDE OUT TO MY PARENTS’ at the last minute. They live forty-five miles north of Houston, in Conroe. I didn’t think they’d be home, but I have an extra to key to their house. Pulled into the driveway and let myself in.
The house was empty of my parents, but still exhibited their warmth. I could smell my mother’s habit of spraying disinfectant throughout the house. A fresh floral arrangement of roses, tulips, lilies, and baby’s breath sat in the center of the dining-room table.
And Pudgie, my dad’s rottweiler, started barking at me as soon as I hit the door.
“Hey, fat boy. What they been feeding you these days?” He started sniffing around my feet and following me down the hall. My parents own a twenty-year-old, single-story frame house with black shutters and a metal roof. I don’t get to visit as often as I should, but when I do, I always leave wit
h a warm and connected feeling.
In the living room, I glanced at the hearth. Spread across the mantel were dozens of silver-framed photos that captured me in poses from the time I was two months old until I was twenty. I looked at my images for a while, but turned away. Too many smiles for me to handle; didn’t seem to match how I was feeling on the inside.
The thing I’d imagined for weeks had finally happened. I got to be with this sensuous woman, all night long, my body inside her body, soaking up her feminine warmth. Oh yeah, it was cool, but the morning after, when I had a chance to think about what I didn’t want to think about, when I allowed my conscience to overrule my libido, something else was going down. I enjoyed being with her, but I felt a wee bit dirty. Yet, in my short lifetime, I was used to the battle within, and figured that those prickly nudgings would pass.
They always do, somehow.
“Dang, where are my folks at, Pudgie? Did they tell you where they were going?”
Pudge looked at me as if to say, “I’m not my master’s keeper.”
“Okay, it’s like that, huh? It’ll be a long time before I bring your secretive butt another doggie bag.”
After waiting another fifteen minutes, I wrote my dad a brief note and locked the door behind me. May as well get home. Can’t always delay the inevitable.
WHEN I WALKED THROUGH THE DOOR, Brad was raising a spoon to his mouth and sampling the grub he’d prepared. The aroma of pork chops smothered with gravy, cabbage, broccoli, rice and cheese, and a pot of boiling white potatoes held our kitchen hostage.
“Hey, brother,” he yelled while standing in front of the electric burner. “I ain’t seen you in a month of Sundays. Where your ever-loving behind been?”
I kicked off my gym shoes and picked them up. As I walked through the apartment, Brad’s eyes bored into my back. I closed my bedroom door behind me and locked it. Took a long soap shower and was patting my legs with the towel when the phone rang.
“Aaarrron. Phone.”
I unlocked the bathroom door and stuck my head out.
“Who is it?”
“They wouldn’t say,” he called.
“Male or female?”
“Female, dawg.”
“Uh, be right out.”
Twisting the bath towel around my waist, I snatched the phone from Brad’s outstretched hand. He grinned at me and shook his raggedy-looking Afro.
“Hello?” I said.
“I hope I wasn’t disturbing you.”
“No, uh, I had to take a shower,” I murmured into the mouthpiece.
“Wonder why?” I heard Brad say out loud and laugh. With the phone in my hand, I walked past Brad and into the living room.
“Getting rid of the evidence, huh?” she joked.
“What evi— No, I’m just tired, I guess,” I said, and kicked back on the sofa.
“Well, uh, looks like Lauren has called here at least two times. Has she called you?”
“Yep.”
“She did? What she say?”
Brad made his presence known, and was lurking in the living room, messing with the CD player and going back and forth listening to some Kenny G songs that I knew he couldn’t stand. I stood up. “Uh, it’s not a good time right now. I’ll call you back from my portable. You gonna be there?”
“Yes, I’ll be here. Hurry and call back.”
“Yeah,” I said, and casually hung up the phone.
I locked eyes with Brad.
“Tracey Davenport, huh?”
Shock erupted in my belly and I jerked my head, but continued staring at him.
“If my memory serves me correctly, Tracey is the woman you’re seeing, right?” he said.
I didn’t say anything.
“Aw, man, I ain’t gone tell nobody. We boys.” He slammed his fist against his chest. I don’t know who invented that little gesture, but it meant nothing to me.
“So, where’d you meet this woman, man? Come on, tell me.” Brad had the nerve to sit on the arm of the couch, as if I owed him some type of explanation about the women I was sexing. He never told me about the girls he was sexing.
“Brad, hey, we may be boys, but this has to be kept on the down low. It’s not even serious, okay? Nothing to even be concerned about.”
“Hey, it’s got to be more than serious if you’re trying to hide it. What? You love her?”
“Brad, you’re stupid.”
“Aw, man, that must be it.” He broke into the type of grin where you weren’t sure if it was genuine or not. “You sprung, A.?”
“Man, is the food ready?”
“What, you giving your loving to someone else and want me to cook for you? Let your pigeon break out her pots and pans,” he said with that stupid grin on his face.
He thought he was funny, but my jaw tightened. I went in my room and got dressed.
Eating out looked better and better every day.
AFTER I GOT BACK HOME FROM DINNER at Luby’s, Brad had left, so I went straight for the telephone. My mind warned, No, do not call her, but if my heart didn’t agree with my mind, what else was I supposed to do?
So I ordered my mind, Stay outta my business, and I dialed those digits.
“Tracey, I miss you. Can we get together tonight?”
“Aaron, we just saw each other this morning, and why on earth are you calling me on my cell phone?”
“Would you rather me take the chance of calling you at the house so Lauren can pick up?”
“No, nooo. It’s just that . . . I mean, you never know if I’m going to leave my phone unattended. What if Lauren happens to be nearby and picks up that line? What excuse would you give for calling me on my cell?”
“Hell, I don’t know.”
“See what I’m saying?”
“So, how are we going to work this, then? You know I’m going to want to call you.”
I smiled and imagined my face cushioned between her soft yet shapely breasts. Rubbed myself and groaned.
“Ohhh, Tracey, let’s hook up tonight. Please?”
“Oh, wow, he’s begging.”
“I’m not begging,” I said, fronting.
“And he’s lying, too.”
“Okay, I am begging, pleading,” I said in an unintentionally husky voice.
“You miss me already, huh?”
“Not answering that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you already know the answer. Women play dumb, but they know if a man is sweet on ’em or not.”
“Mommy, I’m home.”
“Yo, Tracey, is that Lauren? You gotta go?” I said, prepared to push the disconnect button.
“Uh, no. I’m in my room with the door locked. It’s cool.” I heard her clamp her hand over the phone and yell, “Hey, baby, I’m in here. Food is on the stove.”
“Okay,” Lauren yelled back.
“So everything’s cool, right, Tracey?” I asked, holding the phone with my finger still in the just-in-case position.
“Yes, that girl will probably get something to eat, look at TV, and pass out in her bed.”
“I heard that,” I said. “So, we hooking up tonight or not?”
“I—I don’t think so, Mister Man. It’s getting late and, ahhhhh, I’m a bit wore out.” I heard her yawn.
“Wonder why?” I asked.
“What’s that noise?” Tracey wanted to know.
“My other line is ringing. Hold on,” I told her, and clicked over.
“Hello.”
“Hey, honey.”
My hands shook and I almost dropped the phone.
“Heeeyyyy!” I said in that fake, high-pitched voice reserved for scoundrels.
“Why didn’t you ever call me back? Or did you? I went over to a friend’s house after I got home this afternoon, so I would’ve missed you anyway,” Lauren explained.
“Uh, yeah.”
“So, Aaron, what are you doing?”
“N-nothing.”
“You want to come get me?”
“Hey, Bunny, let me call you back. I’m talking to Mom on the other line.”
“Tell your mom I said hi.”
“O-okay,” I told her.
“And call me back, Aaron. I’ll be here.”
After she hung up, I waited a full minute before clicking back over. And once I did click back to Tracey, I clicked the line two more times just to make sure.
“Hey, you still there?”
“Mmm-hmmm. You okay? You sound funny.”
“Guess who that was?” I whispered.
“Who?”
“Lauren.”
“Omigod. I’m outta here. Call me sometime this week. Tomorrow at work.” She told me the phone number and hung up quick.
Tracey 15
As I look back, I see that once I hit my thirties, everything changed: my body, my philosophy, and my goals. I was tired of being expected to do the right thing, even if it was something I didn’t want to do. Yet I wanted to be able to try to find what would make me feel good. So, once I turned thirty-four, which happened last summer on the seventh of August, doing things that made Tracey happy became the theme of the second half of my life. And if being happy meant taking more chances, to try to be less afraid, then I was willing to do that. Yet I was scared. I knew in my heart that all I had to do was say the word and Aaron would’ve swapped sides so fast it would’ve made Michael Johnson seem like a crawling six-month-old. But I wasn’t sure I was ready to do that. Wasn’t sure it was morally acceptable for me to be with Aaron. But as unnerving as it all was, that didn’t stop me from wanting him.
Hey, people break up all the time, and I was the queen of being dumped. Lauren wasn’t anything special when it came to getting hurt. And I didn’t want to be one of those involved in having her get hurt. Yet before I really thought things through, I dove headfirst into “the world revolves around me.” I came to the conclusion that I liked Aaron, enjoyed being with him, loved making love to him, and he was the remedy I needed to get over Mr. Monroe. As pathetic as Steve was, the emotional and physical ties couldn’t be ignored, and I still needed major help getting over him.
So Aaron and I continued to hang out together. And like the military, we adopted a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy. If Lauren saw me rushing out of the apartment without notice, I’d just yell “Be right back,” over my shoulder and would do eighty miles an hour down the freeway toward a magnet called Aaron. He wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with him. But it was hard for Aaron. Take, for example, a recent Friday night. He really wanted to see me, but Lauren wanted him to take her out, too. What could the brother do? Double-date? I don’t think so. Lauren won out that time.
