Dare to Love

by Penny Dixon

  As he drives, I wonder what it is I’m to be careful of. Maybe Carlisle thinks he hasn’t told me about his girlfriend. Did Carlisle see us on the beach yesterday? Did he have binoculars on us in the sea? Does he think a married woman would not be with Grant if she knew he’s got a girlfriend?

  We walk past rows of bars and restaurants till we find one where the salads and fruit look particularly inviting. We order a salad, sandwiches, Hennessey and coke and water.

  ‘How’s your friend?’ he asks as we wait for our order. ‘Did you sort him out?’ It’s a light hearted query but I sense an undercurrent of tension in his voice.

  ‘No, not really. He’s got the same issues since last time. I don’t think he’s looking for a solution though. Think he just wants someone to moan to.’

  ‘So he book an early appointment with you, eh?’

  ‘Oh no, he just turned up this morning, said he had a hunch I’d be on the beach.’

  ‘So its first come first served with you?’

  I don’t like the tone of this. What’s he insinuating? ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Oh nothing.’ He tries to wave it away.

  ‘No. What do you mean?’ If he has something to say, let him say it. I’m not playing guessing games. I realise I’m leaning forward, arms folded on the table in what Richard calls my confrontation position. I sit back and lower my shoulders.

  ‘Just…’ he begins, like he’s choosing each word carefully, ‘that… he… just… turned up… and you choose to spend time with him… even though I told you I’d see you today.’

  I wait to make sure he’s finished.

  ‘You told me you would call me last night. That’s what you said you were going to do. If there’s one thing I hate it’s unreliability, especially when it comes to people calling me or turning up on time for an appointment. I hate watching the phone wondering if it’s going to ring. Hate the fact that someone could think so little of me that they can’t even remember or take the trouble to phone me, or even text to say they can’t talk. Not even a text and you have the nerve to ask me if it’s first come first served, like I’m some kind of prostitute.’

  The waiter brings the food just as I finish. I wonder what he heard. I hope it wasn’t just ‘I’m some kind of prostitute’. If he did, he doesn’t show it. He lays our order in front of us and stays for a brief chat when he hears my English accent. When he’s gone I lean close to Grant and whisper, ‘Why do they always think I’ll know their friends and relatives. Don’t they realise how big England is? You’d think he’d know better, wouldn’t you, especially as he’s been there himself.’

  He laughs with me, which breaks the ice, and I ask him to tell me about Guyana. I’m ashamed to admit that I know so little about his homeland.

  ‘What do you want to know? I could talk all day about Guyana.’

  ‘Everything. How big is it, what are the beaches like, how many people, where in Guyana are you from? Does it grow sugar cane like here? Why does my friend call you GT man?’

  ‘Well for a start.’ He bites into his sandwich. Pauses. We both laugh. We’re in sync again. ‘You can fit the whole of the Caribbean in Guyana.’ I listen intently as he tells me of its status as an international conservation nature habitat because so many species not found elsewhere live there; about its forests and swamps, its sea walls and rocky beaches because most of Guyana is below sea level. He talks about its political instability and why so many of its bright young people leave as soon as they gain a qualification, why Guyanese nationals are scattered throughout the Caribbean and leave in droves to the US and Canada.

  He’s completely animated, his hands weaving magic spells that keep me entranced, his eyes look past me often to a place only he can see, but which he brings alive for me. There’s passion in his voice, love in his heart for a place he too has left. He talks about the family he’s left behind and about needing to go back soon, his visit being long overdue. There’s just a shadow of sadness as he talks about the two children he has there, and an ex-wife. It’s gone as quickly as a wisp of mist disappears. I could watch him all day.

  ‘And GT?’

  ‘Oh,’ he laughs. ‘Georgetown’s the capital. So we all GT men.’

  He drains the last of his Hennessey and looks me full in the face. ‘What do you want to do now?’ I’m still caught up in watching him and can’t think what I want to do. He offers suggestions. ‘Do you want to stay round here? Go to the beach? Have another drink? Go for a drive?’

  ‘I don’t really want to do anything much,’ I finally find my voice. ‘St Lawrence beach is a little busy for me but if you know somewhere quiet…’

  ‘Come.’ He holds out his hand to me and pulls me up as I take it. A tremor goes through me as we connect. ‘I know the perfect place.’

  It’s a five minute drive to Dover Beach. One of the things I love about Barbados is its little surprises. Just off a busy main road is tucked an instant retreat. A wide grass verge on which is dotted a few picnic benches. The grass looks freshly cut and rolls down into a slope. Large trees provide shade for any would be lingerers. I want to be one of those lingerers.

  ‘This is lovely!’ I exclaim as we step out of the car. ‘But where’s the beach?’

  ‘Through there.’ He points to a gap in the trees and the hedges shaped like an arch. I can hear the swishing waves but can’t see the water.

  ‘Can we stay here for a while? It’s so peaceful.’

  Apart from us there’s just one man sitting at one of the tables eating what looks like a late lunch. We sit on one of the other tables in the shade some distance away from him, bare arms and legs touching, electricity crackling.

  ‘Do you want to lie on the grass?’ he asks. I feel like a teenager on a park date.

  ‘I don’t like creepy crawlies,’ I shudder.

  It takes him a second to work out what I mean. ‘I have mats in the car,’ he offers.

  ‘OK. I’m OK with mats.’

  I watch his languid walk back to the car, his easy movements as he scoops up two shiny windshields and lays them on the grass. We lay on our backs looking up at the sun, holding hands like lovers. In the silence I hear trickling water, distinctly different from the rush and roar of the waves.

  ‘A river! You never said there was a river!’ This reminds me of an English park. The tall trees casting shade on the grass, the benches, the gentle tinkle of water flowing over rocks, the calm quiet air. But for the heat and foliage, we could be in a park in Surrey or Dorset or Derbyshire.

  ‘This is beautiful.’

  ‘It’s a place for lovers,’ he says, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at me.

  ‘Do you bring all your women here?’ I tease with more than a hint of curiosity.

  ‘Don’t have that many to bring,’ he smiles. ‘And I told you, I’ve only just found it.

  I want to believe him, to feel unique, special. His eyes are dark and inviting. He bends his foot at the knee, wraps it around me, pulls me in close with his free arm and kisses me. No soft gentle touching of lips. His tongue is suddenly large in my mouth, pushing to the back of my throat. I gasp, partly because of his unexpected force and partly because of my body’s instant reaction.

  ‘Baby, I want you,’ he mutters, as he slides my hand to his crotch, ‘can you feel how much I want you?’

  ‘I want you too,’ I whisper, pressing my palm hard against his bulge.

  ‘You do?’ he sounds surprised.

  ‘Can’t you tell?’ I mock.

  ‘You change you mind!’ He sounds eager, pleased. ‘How come?’

  ‘It’s a long story.’ I’m not ready to share with him the long battle I’ve had with my conscience. Finding answers to the questions it threw at me. What if he thinks you’re cheap? What if he doesn’t call after you have sex with him? What if he’s a blabbermouth? What will I tell Celia? What will I tell Richard? How can I betray Richard like this? What about HIV? An
d the fight I’ve had with my body that asked slightly fewer questions. What if you can’t sort it out with Richard? What if you’re as good with Grant as you think you’ll be? Why are you denying yourself this?

  He pulls me to lay on top of him and wrap his arms around my back. I feel his heart beating fast, he’s hard against my mound. I wonder if he can feel my heart racing. I wonder again about his boldness, but he’s about to get a whole lot bolder.

  ‘Do you want to just slip it in?’ he says next to my ear.

  ‘What?’ Did I hear him right?

  ‘Go on. You could just slip it in.’

  I pull back, prop myself up on one elbow to look into his face.

  ‘What, here!’ I exclaim in hushed tones.

  ‘Nobody will see.’ He’s so deadpan, I can’t tell if he’s joking.

  ‘There’s a man over there.’

  He turns to look at the man sitting on the bench. ‘He’s eating and reading his book – he won’t notice.’

  ‘And them?’ I nod at a couple who have come to sit at one of the other tables.

  ‘They look deaf to me,’ he says, turning back to me. I laugh out loud. ‘Now there you go, drawing attention to us.’

  We hold each other silently for a while before he says, ‘Are you going to slip it in then?’

  ‘What’s your HIV status?’ I whisper in his ear.

  Now he laughs out loud. I look at him puzzled.

  ‘I’ve never been asked that before.’

  ‘What never?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘But I’m asking you now.’ I watch his eyes intently for signs of shiftiness.

  ‘Negative of course,’ he says, part mocking, part serious. ‘Well, as we’re on the subject, what’s yours?’

  ‘Negative.’ And as I say it I realise that I don’t know, as I’ve never been tested. Richard and I have been together for so long we just sort of assumed we both were. Now I wonder if there are other things I don’t know about him. Maybe while I’m busy worrying about Grant’s HIV status, it’s him that should be worried about mine. This is not something I’ve ever thought about because the need has never arisen. Now I wonder how many other married women feel falsely secure.

  He pulls me close again and we lay quietly with our thoughts.

  ‘So, are you going to slip it in?’ he interrupts mine.

  ‘I bet you don’t have a condom,’ I say jokingly.

  ‘Bet I do.’ He pulls one out of his pocket. ‘Have you never done it outside?’

  ‘No, and I’m not about to start here.’

  ‘Go on, live dangerously, just slip it in.’

  I sit up and straddle him. He smiles expectantly. I slowly unbutton his shirt, exposing his tightly curled peppercorn hairs and kiss his nipple. He moans softly as I move to the other one. I sit on his bayonet, feel it hard against my panties. This time I know I’m teasing.

  ‘Come on baby, look how close you are, no one gonna see any difference, no one gonna know, just slip it in, go on just slip it in for me baby.’

  His phone rings. He reaches for it, looks at the screen.

  ‘Oh shoot!’ his face changes. ‘I forget.’

  ‘Forget what?’

  ‘Melissa coming over tonight. She say she want to talk. I have to pick her up from work.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘In about half hour.’

  ‘So you need to go now.’ It was more a statement than question.

  ‘No I have to leave in half hour.’

  He tries to pull me back to him but the atmosphere’s changed. Suddenly his girlfriend’s joined us and I feel even more exposed than to the three people at the tables. I climb off him, smooth out my skirt and sit on the mat. He sits up, put his arm around my shoulder, kisses my neck.

  ‘Sorry babes, I thought I’d better be honest. You not jealous are you?’

  ‘Why should I be?’ I say lightly as I picture him with a voluptuous twenty year old, breast plump and proud, long legs, hour glass figure, sensuous hips, smooth skin glowing from years in the sun, snake like charm. ‘No, I’m not jealous,’ I lie.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Why should I be?’ It comes out a little more sharply than I expect. ‘Let’s go.’

  He opens his mouth to say something, thinks better of it and closes it again.

  We gather up the mats and head back to the car. I force myself to be bright and breezy while trying to force the image of him and Melissa out of my head.

  ‘Can I see you tomorrow?’ he asks while negotiating a tight bend.

  ‘Will she let you out?’ I sneer.

  ‘Don’t be like that. I’d love to see you tomorrow.’

  ‘I’m going to look around Concord.’

  ‘I could come with you,’ he suggests gaily.

  ‘I’ve arranged to go with Celia’s friends.’ More lies. I don’t want him to think I’m always available for him.

  ‘What time you going to be free? I really want to see you tomorrow. I’m just so sorry I have to go now.’

  I don’t answer because I’m wondering what the hell I’m doing with this child of a man who’s tugging at my heart as well as my groin.

  ‘What time Josi?’ he asks as he pulls up outside Celia’s apartment.

  ‘Ten o’clock.’

  ‘So what time can I see you?’

  ‘About two.’

  ‘OK, can’t wait.’

  He reaches to kiss me but I can’t do it knowing he’s on his way to pick up Melissa.

  Grant

  I can’t believe what just happen. I can still feel her mouth on my cock, every tongue stroke, every slide, every nibble. I don’t want to wash off her scent but I can’t risk anything with Mel. I have a quick shower and change and get there just as she coming out of work. She get in the car and shut the door.

  ‘What you looking so happy about?’ She have a real sour look on her face.

  ‘Hi Grant, how was your day?’ I ask in a mock American drawl.

  ‘Don’t get funny with me.’ She obviously not in the mood for joking.

  ‘Not a good one then?’ I turn on the engine.

  ‘No.’

  I turn the music up loud and we don’t speak again till we get home.

  ‘Where are my flip flops?’ she ask as soon as she step in the bedroom.

  ‘Where you leave them.’

  ‘I leave them right here by the side of the bed.’

  ‘Then they must still be there.’

  She take off her jacket and go to hang it up in the wardrobe.

  ‘What are my flip flops doing in the wardrobe?’

  I don’t answer, pretend I don’t hear. ‘What are my flip flops doing in the wardrobe, Grant?’ she ask louder.

  ‘You asking me like I would know. I don’t wear them.’

  She look puzzled, give me a strange look but drop the subject. I breathe a silent sigh of relief. I hope I remember to put everything else back in the right place.

  The next day, I drop Mel at work as usual and come straight back home. Josi on a island tour all day. I might as well check the internet to see if anything come up that I can try for. One of the guys from the last project say there might be some work in Grand Cayman. If he get to manage it he want me to go with him. I’m pinning a lot of hope on it but I know it might not come off. A lot of projects getting cancelled all across the Caribbean. I drink a couple glasses of Hennessey and watch a couple DVDs. Josi’s call is the highlight of my day. She up in St Lucy telling me how beautiful she think it is. She’s the one thing I have to look forward to. She getting back about three thirty, round about the same time I have to leave to pick up Mel, but there’s no reason I can’t meet her later. I tell her to call me when she get back.

  As soon as I get in from picking up Mel my phone ring. It’s Sammy. He wants me to come and pick up some liquor for him. I don’t really want to do this job but is the only money I have coming in right now.


  ‘Sammy, I just get in, just getting some food.’

  ‘I need you now man. Some people been sniffing round here, I have to move it fast.’ He sound agitated.

  ‘All right.’

  I tell Mel I have to run back out to street, I’ll be back soon. She want to know where I’m going. I tell her I’ll be back soon. She knows I move things for Sammy but I don’t tell her when or where because I don’t want her to get mixed up in it. As soon as I can get some money from my business or get a job I’m going to drop Sammy. Me and him go back a long way but it’s getting too dangerous to know him now. Is not just the liquor him doing, it’s a lot of other things.

  I meet Sammy at a warehouse in Bridgetown. He’s in a big hurry, say the police been sniffing round the place asking questions and he have to get the things out quick. I fold down the back seats to fit in the boxes of white rum and help him load them up. He keep checking his phone, say he’s expecting a text. We just driving off when a police car pass by. They look at the number plate, but thank God they can’t see inside the car. I’m sweating. My instinct is to put my foot down and get the hell out of there but that would only attract attention so I control my speed.

  I drop the boxes off at a house in St James, get my money from Sammy and head straight back home. I switch off my phone. I don’t want any more calls tonight, especially as Sammy tell me he give my number to another friend. Tell him he can trust me for removals. I keep seeing the police looking at my number plate. When I get home I tight as a drum. I pour myself a Hennessey and switch on the TV.

  It’s half past nine and Darron still don’t come back from school. Mel say he don’t tell her he going to be late, and he certainly don’t have my permission to be out, especially as he’s still grounded. I use Mel’s phone to call his cell but he don’t pick up.

  ‘You think something happen to him?’ Mel sound worried.

  ‘I think the boy taking advantage.’ I’m angry because I don’t want her to hear the fear I’m feeling. There’s plenty temptation for fourteen year old boys out there, but he’s Guyanese and if anything happen, he the first one they going to point the finger at. I keep trying to warn him but his head so hard he not listening.