by Cydney Rax
After washing our hands and saying our hellos and how-you-doings, Indira blessed the food and we began pigging out.
“So, what’s been up, Miss Thang? What you know good?” Indira said, once we were seated at the ivory dining room table.
“Oh, nothing much. I’ve just been working and . . . working.”
“Hmmm! How’s the job?” said Indira.
“It’s coming.”
“How long you been at the University of Houston now?” she asked.
“Let’s see. Almost eight years.”
“That long? You like it?”
“Well, a job’s a job. If it weren’t for the benefits, I’d be like hasta la vista. You know, we usually get a week to two weeks off at Christmas, depending on what day Christmas falls on. I mean, I could complain, but what good would it do?”
“Y’all get pretty good raises?” asked Indira.
“What’s pretty good?”
“Anything at all?”
“Oh, uh, I guess we get pretty good raises.”
“Well, praise the Lord, then,” she smiled. “And what’s up with, uh, you-know-who?” Indira asked, casting a glance at Lauren, who was busy letting Regis fill her ears with whatever cockamamy stuff she could think of.
“Well, you-know-who is still no more. But he did call me this week.”
“Oooh, Tracey, did you cuss him out?”
“Mmmmm, no,” I laughed. “I was nice.”
“So, with him gone, that means you have a lot of free time on your hands, huh?”
Lauren looked up at us.
I squirmed.
“Penn State,” I said looking at Indira.
“Penn State” was the code Indira and I used whenever we needed to let the other know we couldn’t talk freely.
“Oh,” she nodded.
We ate and talked for another twenty minutes. Then my cell phone, which was on the table in front of Lauren, started singing “The Entertainer.” She picked up before I could intercept.
“Hello?” she answered, looking bored. Her brows creased; she stared at the phone, then disconnected the call.
“W-who was that?” I asked, putting down my fork laden with yams.
“Don’t know. They hung up.”
Indira eyed me, and I stared at my plate. “Must not have been important,” I said.
“The Entertainer” started playing again.
“Pass me my phone, Lauren.”
She scowled and pushed it across with table with her hand.
I grabbed the phone and left the dining room with everybody staring at me like I’d just kidnapped Elian Gonzalez.
“Hello?” I said.
“Hey, there, it’s me. I just called—”
“I know,” I snapped, and walked toward Indira’s front door.
“Didn’t sound like—”
“That wasn’t me, it was Lauren.”
“Ooh, damn.”
“Yeah, damn,” I said.
“Hey, how am I supposed to know where you are and if the phone is near you or not?”
“My point exactly.”
“Well, where are you, Miss Lady?”
I was now outside Indira’s house, heading for my Malibu.
“I’m actually at a friend’s.”
Silence.
“A girlfriend. I’m over Indira’s house; she’s Regis’s mom.”
“Oh, okay.”
Pause.
“So, are you having any fun?” he asked.
“Nope. Miss Lauren is acting like an authenticated I’ve-got-my-certificate-to-prove-it asshole. Have y’all been fighting or something?”
“No, not really. Last night she wanted me to come get her,” he explained. “But I wouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“ ’Cause.”
“Excuse me?”
“I just wasn’t feeling Lauren last night, and so I gave her the slip. I guess she’s pissed about that. She kept questioning me why I do this and why I do that. Sheesh, I don’t know what to tell her.”
“Hmmm! Thanks for the heads-up. Now I know why Lauren’s in a salty mood. She’s coming very close to getting slapped. But I’ll lighten up. Seems like a little boyfriend-girlfriend stuff.”
“Uh-huh,” was all Aaron said.
“You still there?” I asked after a while.
“I’m here.”
“Barely, you’re there. What’s wrong with you now?”
“Can we hook up today?” he pleaded.
“Mmmm, I want to, I really do. But I need a plan . . . Have you talked to Lauren at all today?”
“Nope.”
“Expect to?”
“Noooo.”
“Well, maybe I’ll leave her here and act like I gotta make a run. We can pick a place once I leave. I’ll call you on your portable. Have the power turned on.”
“Don’t worry,” he told me. “The power’s already turned on.”
“ ’Bye, Aaron.”
I sat in the car another three minutes, moving my mouth like I was still talking on the phone. I imagined that everybody in the house was stealing a look at me from the windows. Things felt very strange, surreal. I wondered what I had gotten myself into, but didn’t give myself enough time to really think about it.
Being caught up. Enduring the pressures of doing what felt good to me but wasn’t exactly good for me. And some days I wished I could just die, just disappear, or at least make things different from how they were. I wanted to pretend being with Aaron wasn’t so bad. Two consenting adults, right? Two people who didn’t get tired of being around each other.
“It’ll be okay,” I told myself. “If there was anything wrong with this, it would be far more difficult than it is,” I said before getting out of the car.
“Well, took you long enough,” Indira teased, giving me a wink once I returned to the dining room.
Lauren was in the midst of a conversation with Regis, but as soon as she saw me, she squinted until I sat down at the table and looked back at her.
“What?” I asked.
She looked me up and down real slow, and then leapt from the table.
“Come on, Regis.”
Regis grinned at us and trailed behind Lauren, running upstairs and laughing.
“What’s up with them?” Indira asked.
“Don’t know and don’t want to know,” I commented, annoyed at Lauren’s behavior and anxious to get out from under her moodiness. “Hey, I realize this is sudden, but something’s come up and I want to leave Lauren here. I’ll come get her in a few hours. That okay?”
“Go on, girl,” Indira said, “Take care of your business. She’s safe here. Hey, as a matter of fact, she can even spend the night with us, since the kids are on Christmas break now. Don’t worry. Just give me a holler in the morning, all right, sweetie?”
I fought hard to hide the smile that tried to spread across my face, coughing and hacking like something was caught in my throat. And it was.
Relief.
I RACED HOME LIKE A BILLION PIECES of cheesecake were waiting on me. On the way, though, I did take the time to call Aaron.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“Well, just wanted to let you know that . . . I’m on my way home to pack a bag and . . . we’re going to spend the night together. My treat.”
“Damn. What brought all this on?”
“Lauren is staying over with Regis. She doesn’t have to be back at school until January, and I’m calling in tomorrow and taking a too-damn-lazy-to-work day. Since you’re out of school, too, I’m hoping you can cancel everything else you may have planned and be with me.”
“Hey, now. I’m game. What you need me to do?”
“Well, pack yourself a small overnight bag and I’ll call and make a reservation at . . . meet me at . . . hmmm, what about the Marriott on Eldridge Parkway in Katy?”
“Cool. I’m on my way.”
I laughed and hung up the phone. Fifteen minutes later I was home, trying to find something
sexy to wear. I changed from my jogging suit to a skort set and slipped on a pair of small black slingbacks. I brought along two different expensive bottles of perfume, a new pair of leopard print panties, and several bottles of scented lotions.
When I arrived at the hotel, Aaron had just pulled up. We waved and strapped our overnight bags on our shoulders. Kissed in the parking lot. Started walking toward the hotel’s entrance, but stopped and kissed again.
“Damn, woman, can’t you wait?”
“Aaron, I feel like a kid out on prom night.”
“You are a kid.”
“No, I’m not.”
He smiled and grabbed my free hand, kissing my fingertips and making me blush.
By that time it was almost five o’clock, and the lobby was crowded with people coming to register for some kind of convention. Aaron hung back while I got the room. We got our keycard and waited until there was an empty elevator before getting on. Our suite had a mini fridge, two queen-size beds, a hair dryer, a coffeemaker, two telephones, and a big color television.
“Man, baby, you got us a cool room with a view,” he said, looking out the window as the twilight gave way to evening. “Isn’t it the bomb?”
The sky had a reddish orange glow to it, peaceful, illuminating, mysterious. Once we snapped out of our scenic view zone, we made ourselves at home by unpacking the few personal items we’d managed to toss in our bags. Aaron removed his shirt and only wore some black sweatpants with a white border, some leather house slippers, and a gold chain. His chest rippled, called out to me, but I averted my eyes and concentrated on combing my hair.
“Woman, what is your problem? Why are you combing your hair now? By the time I get through with you, your hair’s going to be all over your head.”
“I don’t know about all that,” I said moving away from him as he came up behind me.
“Well, I do. Last time was sooo good. Let’s sneak some real quick.”
“No, no, Aaron, not now.”
He stopped following me, and his playful mood slowed its roll real fast.
“Whassup with you, Tracey?”
“Nothing,” I told him, and shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I—I’m not lying. I just don’t think . . . hey, we have plenty of time. It’s only, what”—I glanced at my watch—“it’s not even six yet.”
“So?” he said, giving me one of those “and your point is?” looks.
“So we have time. Let’s talk.”
“Aw hell,” he said, and flopped on one of the beds so hard the springs squeaked.
“Aaron, come on. Don’t be mad. Everything doesn’t have to center around S-E-X.”
“Damn, you’re spelling the word now? I feel like I’m with some middle-school kid or something.”
“No, no, it’s not that. I don’t know . . .”
“You do know, you’re just not telling me.” He got up and snatched the comb from my hand. Squeezed my chin between his fingers like it was a soft rubber ball.
“Look at me and tell me what’s on your mind,” he commanded.
I looked at Aaron from his brown eyes to his thick lips. Opened my mouth and licked my bottom lip real slow. He moved his lips near mine, getting closer and closer.
I jerked my head.
“Oh, hell no. Hell no.”
“Aaron.” I winced. “Please.”
“Please nothing, Tracey. What kind of game you trying to pull?” he asked, getting all up in my face.
I clenched my teeth, then blew a shot of breath. “No game. No game. Just need to talk.”
“Ahhh,” he moaned, and slapped his hand against his thigh. “Here it comes. The eternal need of woman to let stuff off her chest.”
Aaron crashed back on the bed, laid his head on the pillow, and placed one fist on his forehead.
“Okay, let me have it. No, on second thought, I’ll do the honors. ‘Do you only want me for sex?’ ” he asked in this whiny, soft voice. “Or ‘I think we’re rushing and should slow down.’ ”
He said all this with his eyes closed, moving his head back and forth, snapping his little neck around.
I sat next to him, smiling but wanting to wring his fine-ass neck.
“Aw, baby,” I said in a gruff voice. “You know I don’t want you just for your body. But your tight booty and luscious tits are a big part of it.”
His eyes sprang open. He sat up and grabbed me around the waist, pulling me down next to him. “Oh, honey, I’m so glad we had this little talk. Now I feeeeelllll so much better (sniff, sniff). Finally, a man who has a heart, a man who understands my feeeliinnngss.”
“Awwww, Aaron. You’re a mess.”
“You’re the mess. Playing those teenaged games. I thought you were a real woman.”
I didn’t answer that. Didn’t know the answer.
He sighed and sat up. “Seriously, Tracey. What’s on your mind? If you want to talk, we can talk. The least I can do is hear you out.”
“Okay,” I told him. “To be honest, I . . . Let’s get to know each other even better. There’s still a whole lot I don’t really know about you.”
He scratched the inside of his ear. “Whatcha wanna know?”
“What was your childhood like?” I said in a soft voice.
“Get the fug outta here.”
“I’m serious, Aaron. I want you to answer whatever questions I ask.”
“This is some fool-ass—”
“Just answer.”
He groaned real loud but managed to say, “Okay, one score and one year ago, Aaron Khristian Oliver was born to one Lendan and Nethora Oliver . . .”
My eyes twinkled. He looked so cute sitting up there, trying his best to do what I asked.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. My folks waited a while before having me. They were in their forties. Dad was busy hoofing it up making money with his business, an auto-repair shop, and Mom was an educator.”
“You’re an only child right?” I asked him.
“That’s what they tell me.”
“So you’re studying . . . ?”
“Yeah, this semester I’m attending UH in Fort Bend and—”
“As what? Are you a junior?”
“Nope, a sophomore. Got started late.”
“And you work at the main campus?”
“Yeah, part-time job as a CAD intern.”
“Oh,” I said, and picked at my cuticles, which were really looking yucky, and hurt whenever I . . .
“See what I’m saying, Tracey? We’re talking, but you still don’t look very satisfied. Why do women insist on talking like it’s going to make some kind of difference as far as where a relationship goes?”
I averted my eyes.
“I thought so.”
“No, Aaron, see, you’re contradicting yourself. Way back when, you told me you had a lot of experience with women and that you know what they want to hear and all that. Now you’re acting like what I’m doing is so foreign.”
“Look, it’s not like I don’t know what you’re doing. But there’s a big difference between knowing what you’re doing and me being in the mood to put up with it.”
“What?”
“Ooooh, wait a sec, this is all wrong. We came here to be together. I feel you’re trying to play some kind of game, some emotional tug-of-war, and I’m destined to lose. I want to hold you in my arms, Tracey, and I thought you wanted me to. Surely we don’t have to fork over cash to the Marriott just to talk, do we?”
I stared into space, feeling like a telemarketer trying to sell funeral plots. It was like I wanted to be with him, yet I tried to do what I could to justify what I thought we had. Talk, bond, do anything as long as the emphasis didn’t focus on the lovemaking. Don’t get me wrong, the sex was more than adequate, but I guess I wanted to balance our relationship even if I didn’t have firm plans to make him a serious boyfriend. Wasn’t sure that I could maintain Aaron as a serious boyfriend.
“Hey, y-you go
t a problem being with me, Tracey?”
He had such a serious, concerned look on his face. My heart softened and I held him and closed my eyes. He grabbed me around my waist and pressed his face against my hair, caressing and rubbing it, stroking the top of my head.
“God, I wish you didn’t act so crazy,” he told me in a husky voice.
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be me, now would I?”
“True, but your moods can take a toll on a brother. Why you so damn moody?”
We sat on the floor, me between his legs, him holding me around my waist. I opened my eyes, leaned against his chest, pulled his hands in front of me, and played with his fingers.
“I don’t know. I guess I’m afraid.”
“Of?”
“I like what we have, and I want it to last for a long, long time.”
“Do you?” he asked, and I heard the smile in his voice. I turned my head so that my lips met his, and gave him a clumsy yet warm kiss.
“Yes, I do. Being with you feels so good, yet so bizarre. But sometimes I wonder if I’m better off yearning for Steve . . . he called me a little while ago. You knew that, didn’t you?”
“How would I know that, through osmosis?”
“Well, I’m telling you now.”
He let go of my fingers and pressed his cheek against my cheek.
“What he say?”
I moved my head away. “It was so odd. He told me . . . never mind.”
“Uh-uh. Nope, tell me,” he insisted, sticking his neck out until I had a side view of his face.
“I’m sorry, Aaron. I never should have brought that man’s name up in the first place. I know you probably don’t want to hear about Steve, and I don’t blame you. There shouldn’t be any competition between you and another man. There is no competition.”
“Hey, when it comes to men, there’s always competition, even when there isn’t any competition.”
“That right?”
“Hell, yeah.”
Still nestled between his legs, I grabbed his fingers and grazed them across my cheek, staring into space.
“Aaron? You feel the same about me as I feel about you?”
“I’ll let you decide.”
“No.” I shook my head. “Would you please tell me so I’ll know that I know.”
