by Candice Dow
The jitters in my stomach filled it to capacity. “Um, not really.”
“Well, let’s go to the hotel so I can change. Then maybe you’ll be ready to eat.”
“That’s cool.”
My mind was on Courtney’s message. God only knows where Scooter’s mind was, but we had nothing to say. After hours and hours of phone conversation, we sat confined in his car exchanging silly smiles. We pulled up to the Westin Hotel and stopped at the front door. He got out and pulled my roller bag and his backpack from the trunk. He sat it on the side. The older bellman pulled his cart over and placed the bags on it. He was a handsome black man, about fifty with mixed gray hair and a pleasant smile.
“Good evening, young lady.”
I smiled. “Good evening, sir.”
He pulled the cart toward the automatic doors, and I followed. He asked, “Is that your husband?”
“No.”
“Boyfriend?” he asked.
Suddenly, I felt like an asshole. No, he’s not my husband. No, he’s not my boyfriend. But here I am going into a hotel with him. I obviously looked like I was worth having a title. Feeling rather insecure, I nodded.
“He’s a very lucky man.”
I blushed. “Thank you,” I said.
Scooter came rushing into the hotel. He smiled at me. The nice man smiled. “A doctor, huh? You’re a lucky lady . . .”
Hoping my discomfort wasn’t obvious, I nodded. Scooter checked in and grabbed our bags from the cart. He handed the man a few dollars. “I got it from here, man. Thanks.”
“You guys have a great time here in the marvelous town of Stamford,” the man said.
We laughed, as he was clearly joking. I pressed the elevator button and turned around to Scooter’s puckered lips. We pecked. He smiled. “I’m glad you could come, Tay-Bae.”
“Me too.”
The elevator doors opened and we got on. After he pressed the seventh floor, I leaned on the mirror. He stood in front of me and his eyes studied my eyes. I did not waiver, because I wanted to read his mind as well. When the elevator opened, I held my arm in the door so he could pull my bag out.
He pointed to the left, saying, “We’re this way. Room 705.”
I walked ahead of him and he commented, “I can’t believe we’re here.”
“Me either.”
When we got inside of the room, I went straight over to open the blinds. He followed and sat at the small table near the window. I sat down across from him. He reached out for my hand. I willingly offered both.
“How did we get here?”
“I dunno.” I hung my head and repeated, “I dunno.”
He laughed. “Me either. I mean . . .” He stopped and shook his head. “Never mind.”
I urged him to finish. “What? Tell me.”
“I didn’t foresee this.”
Knowing that I’d fantasized about this for months, I decided not to say anything. He continued, “I can’t believe how easily my feelings have resurfaced.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“It’s been really hard to keep my mind on anything else.”
I smiled. “Me too.”
“I look at my girlfriend and . . .” I cringed and took a deep breath, as he continued. “I wonder if she knows what’s going through my mind.” He chuckled. “Tay-Bae, this shit is crazy.”
“I know,” I said quietly.
“It’s like this just snuck up on me. I never expected to be here.”
I looked at him and asked for the fifteenth time. “Why didn’t you bring her to the reunion?”
“She didn’t want to come.”
“I never knew I’d feel like that when I saw you again either.” I sighed and tried to explain my actions. “I mean, I always knew that our breakup was a mistake, but I never knew that I’d still want to be with you after I saw you.”
“I know. Me either.” He paused. “Now, I feel pressured to make a decision,” he added.
With a sympathetic expression, I said, “Look Scooter, it’s still early. You don’t have to make a decision today. We have to make sure this isn’t infatuation between us. You know?” He nodded. I continued, “Let’s not make this heavy. When it gets heavy, then you make a decision. Today, let’s just kick it.”
I grabbed the City Guide from the table to see what there was to do in Stamford. It didn’t appear there were any clubs that I wanted to go to. In pursuit of places to just kick it, I suggested a pub in what appeared to be a busy strip. Scooter was never hard to please. He was mostly down for whatever I was down for. And thankfully, that hadn’t changed. Scooter gazed at me as I bent over and flipped through my bag as if I hadn’t already decided what I should wear.
Peeping over my shoulder, I asked, “Do you want to get ready first?”
Snapping out of his daydream, he said, “Oh, yeah. It doesn’t matter.”
Scooter took all of ten minutes to throw on a pair of jeans and a Polo shirt. When he came out, my purple lace panties lay on the white comforter. My eyes followed his as he fantasized me with them on. I sashayed past him and picked them up as I headed for the bathroom. After I showered, slipped on my top and, of course, I walked out to grab my jeans. Tiptoeing bashfully past the bed, I said, “Oh, I forgot these.”
He licked his lips and gave me a lustful expression, as I rushed back to the bathroom to slip them on. After I made up my face, I was ready to just kick it. I stood at the bottom of the bed and let Scooter admire me before asking, “Are you ready, baby?”
We left the room and headed into town, a town that Scooter claimed he was familiar with, but didn’t know where anything was. So, I asked the hotel receptionist how to get to the pub. She suggested we try a Mediterranean bistro not too far away, so we did. I was shocked when we pulled up to the hole in the wall. Scooter and I looked at each other and began to laugh. We decided to just go in, because nothing else in this town looked plush either. The moment we stepped in, Arabian music was playing and we bobbed our heads in agreement. We were seated at a nice cozy table for two. When the bartender came to take our drink orders, I ordered a Royal Red Apple Martini and Scooter had a glass of wine. Once our drinks came, we heard loud drums and belly dancers filled the room. They jingled and twirled their little hips, rippled and snaked their bellies as Scooter and I stared in awe. Scooter joked that he bet I could do it, too. Why was he so supportive?
When they recruited people to dance on stage, I went up there. High on life and high on the possibility of love, I did my own booty-shaking version. If I could have controlled my giggles, I probably would have been a lot better at it. When I returned to the table, Scooter was standing up, clapping.
“Tay, you looked like you knew what you were doing up there.”
“You’re just trying to flatter me.”
We laughed it off and finally our food arrived. I was with my Arabian prince on an Arabian night and all we needed was a magic carpet to take us away from reality. As we gazed into each other’s eyes, we chatted about our expectations, our inhibitions, and our dreams.
By the time we got back to the room, his complaints about Akua had increased. The underlying tone of their relationship was comfort. Finally, I asked, “So, is it enough to be just comfortable in a relationship?”
“What’s the other option?”
“Love.”
He put his arm around my shoulder and leaned his head into me. “Like I said, that’s why I’m here. I need to see if this is love.”
I smiled and turned to give him a kiss. “Me too.”
We dozed off and I awoke to my phone buzzing on the nightstand. I rubbed my eyes and looked at the clock. 10:33 A.M. I was in the bed alone. Scooter was gone. It was a degrading feeling to fall asleep with a man only to awake to a cold bed. I grabbed my phone, another message from Courtney. Did I really want to read something that would make me feel worse?
WHATCHU DOIN.
I responded. WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK. I’M ASLEEP.
She responded. ARE
YOU ENJOYING YOURSELF?
I wrote back. YES.
Scooter called and interrupted our line of communication. The jealous side of me answered in an irritated tone. “Yes, Scooter?”
“Hey, I’m on my way back. You know she . . .”
Before he finished, I said, “Yeah, I know.”
I guess he’d rocked his princess to sleep and was on his way back to me.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Okay.”
18
SCOOTER
I woke up at six o’clock this morning and drove recklessly to New Haven. I had to be tucked in the bed and snoring by the time Akua got home at seven-thirty.
Why did I think I’d be able to sleep? Last night confirmed my feelings. Taylor is the girl I’d searched for. We had no complicated decisions to make if we were going to be together. She was willing to go where I went. She wasn’t power hungry. She grew up watching the example of a good wife. Still, in a sense, she was independent and feisty, but she knew just when and how often to use it.
As I was scrutinizing the Taylor versus Akua scorecard in my mind, I heard the front door open. My heart beat on the bed. I buried my head in the pillow. Please don’t wake me up. Just leave me alone.
She walked in the bedroom. “Good morning, baby.”
I didn’t respond.
“Did you go out last night?” she asked.
Still, I played possum.
“I know you hear me talking to you.”
I was afraid that my lack of sleep would be evident if I faced her. She continued, “I’m really proud of you. There are no dishes in the sink. No beer cans on the table.”
She clapped. “Finally, you’re learning.”
She talked as if she knew I was listening. “I had a great night last night.”
Oh no! Please don’t say it! She said, “I’m not even tired.”
It was just my luck. If I had to slip a sleeping pill in her drink, I was going to do it. She sat beside me on the bed and tried tickling me. “Wake up. Let’s go to breakfast.”
No! Go to sleep! “Wake up, sleepyhead.”
I tossed around like I was irritated. “Damn, Akua. I’m tired.”
“Tired? I’ve been on my feet for twelve hours and you’re the tired one?”
I snapped, “Yes, I’m tired.”
“Well I had coffee an hour ago, so I’m pumped up. C’mon baby, we can go eat and sleep all day long.”
If I didn’t go eat with her, there would be no way to explain I was going golfing in an hour or so. I sat up in the bed, rubbed my eyes like I’d been asleep all night. I fake yawned. “Where do you want to go?”
“We can go to the coffee shop across from the hospital.”
“You don’t need any more coffee,” I complained.
“Boy, I want food.”
I staggered in the bathroom and brushed my teeth. After I threw on a sweat suit, we headed out of the house. We didn’t talk the entire walk to the coffee shop. All I could think of was when I could get back to Taylor.
During breakfast, she shared her hospital stories. Until Taylor and I began to talk, I forgot how good it felt to not have to talk about the hospital when I wasn’t in the hospital. I laughed on cue and asked questions when I found it appropriate, but I really couldn’t give a shit.
Finally, she began to yawn. As I noticed fatigue creeping up on her, I decided to ramble off my plans for the day. “Yeah, I’m going down to the city to hook up with my boy. We’re going to play golf.”
“How did you know I didn’t want to do anything before I went to work this evening?”
“I just assumed.”
She rolled her eyes. “You should never assume. When will you be home?”
My mouth hung open. “Ah . . . I guess sometime tonight.”
She pouted. “I was hoping you could bring me lunch.”
“That ain’t happening.”
“You can’t sacrifice.”
“No, I’m hanging out with D and I haven’t seen him in a while and I don’t want to rush back.”
She rolled her eyes. “Pay the check.”
I pushed back from the table and walked to the register. She followed. “You’ve really been smelling yourself lately.”
“You’re trippin,” I said, shaking my head.
“Look at the pot calling the black.”
We laughed as she struggled with the metaphor. When I tried to clean it up, she bumped into me. “You know what I’m saying.”
When we got back to the apartment, she took a shower and I lay impatiently in the bed. Finally, she came out and climbed in to join me wearing her birthday suit. She wrapped her arms around my waist and kissed my back. “I want to do it.”
Okay, I didn’t anticipate her having so much energy this morning. She was really messing up my plans. She tickled the hair on my stomach. Then, she reached down and began stroking me.
I turned to face her, placing my right leg in between her legs. We kissed and I slid inside. Her top leg clamped on to me and we made lazy love. When we were done, she was the dude, passed out. I was the woman, pondering the future of our relationship. I climbed from her grip and went into the living room to call Taylor.
Just to cover my ass, I decided to take Taylor golfing. I picked up a case of beer on my way back to Stamford. When I got to town, I stopped at Starbucks and grabbed a breakfast sandwich and coffee for her. As I stood outside of the hotel room, tapping on the door for nearly five minutes, I dialed Taylor.
Running water was in the background when she finally answered. She came to the door wearing the skimpy white hotel towel and stormed away. Water rolled down her slim, shapely legs. Though I’d sensed some frustration on the other end when I spoke to her, her non-greeting perplexed me. I leaned on the rim of the bathroom door, holding her coffee in hand.
“Good morning to you, too.”
She started brushing her teeth and rolled her eyes. I sat the cup down and stood behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. “Taylor, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She rinsed her mouth and backed away from me. Following her into the room, I said, “Here, baby, I got you some coffee.”
As she stepped into her panties, she smirked. “Thanks.”
I sat on the bed and hung my head. After nearly ten minutes of one-word answers, I was frustrated. Finally, she was dressed and ready to go. When I told her our plans for the day, she shrugged. “That’s cool. It’s whatever.”
The perfect words came to mind when we stood to leave. I said, “Taylor, you make me happy.” I grabbed her head and looked into her eyes. “I had such a good time with you last night. Now, I remember why I was so in love with you.”
Jackpot! A huge smile spread across her face and I knew that she just needed to know that all of the sneaking around was not in vain. She just needed me to reaffirm what we were doing and why we were doing it. “I’m really happy we’re together again.”
“I am, too, Scooter,” she said, nodding.
We headed out to the golf course. Once we were on the cart, I pulled two cans of beer out of the cooler and handed one to her. She joked, “I hope you’re not going to drink and drive.”
I laughed harder than necessary. It was her clever way of finding joy in the smallest things that made her special and humored me so. As we talked and drank and Taylor made an earnest attempt to play golf, I felt free again and I wished I was free to be her man. I was attracted to everything about her. How had I convinced myself that I was really over Taylor J? She was the girl that you could never forget and damn if I let this slip away again.
19
TAYLOR
A gain, I woke up to an empty bed. This is not my style. I am nobody’s bench warmer. I exhaled and reminded myself. “I’m a starter!”
I called Courtney just for some girl talk to get my mind off of the lowly pit I’ve fallen into. “Oh, girl.”
I laughed at her urban impression of saying she had so
me drama to share. “What?”
“Why did Rachael go away for the weekend with this dude? She had me on the other line cracking up.”
“What happened?”
She laughed. “She thought that he spent the money for a nice vacation. She gets there, gives him some because the room was nice and she thought he was really considerate . . .”
I laughed, before she finished, “Girl, why was it a timeshare visit? He needed her income to get the fifty dollar deal.”
“That is busted.”
“She said she almost killed that cheap bastard. She was so mad, talking about ‘It’s a shame you can’t take poom-poom back because she wants a refund.’”
“I know that’s real.”
As she gave the details of Rachael’s weekend, I flipped back and forth whether Scooter was worth pursuing or not. My heart fluttered. Though I felt I needed to end this now, Rachael’s story discouraged me. Why did Scooter have to be a good guy? It would be easy to resist if I didn’t think he’d make a great husband and father one day. Shit! He was a great boyfriend.
As Courtney talked, I began to gather my belongings. I was trapped somewhere midway between common sense and discouragement. It’s not like men like Scooter are on every street corner. I sighed. “You’re crazy.”
She giggled. “I know.” She added, “But y’all love to call me with all the crazy stories . . .” That was my invitation into my drama. She said, “So, your turn . . .”
I sighed and repeated what I’d told myself all morning. I yelled, “I’m a starter. I can’t do second string!”
Courtney laughed. “You ain’t lying. I was wondering when you were going to snap out of it!”
I continued the pep rally. “I’m too cool for this shit. How am I going to wait until I’m nearly twenty-nine years old to play second fiddle?”
She sucked her teeth. “I know that’s real. You got too much going for yourself than to settle for that. I’d rather be alone before I sit around and wait for somebody to figure out what they want to do with their woman. Especially when the other woman doesn’t know about me. Whatever.”
“Uh-huh,” I huffed.
She ranted. “I’m Queen B. I am nobody’s Wanna B.”
