The Countdown to Thirty

by Nefertiti Faraj

  “No!” I disputed, “Did you sleep with her?”

  There was hesitation on the end of the line, “What are you talking about? I’m coming over.”

  “Malcolm please, just tell me. Did you?”

  He hesitated again, “Yea, but it was while we were on break? Does that make you happy?”

  “On break, are you kidding me!”

  “Look, just let me come over and talk to you.”

  I screamed louder this time, “No! We have nothing to talk about.”

  He laughed, “You know it’s cool Kaia. I just wanted to be a man about this situation and let you know in person that this shits not working for me right now anyway. You’re not what I’m looking for.”

  That comment pierced my heart like a dagger. This didn’t make any sense. None of this lined up to what we talked about at lunch only days ago. After buying all his crap about him coming to his senses and apologizing after realizing how dumb and insensitive he’d been towards me I actually believed he wanted to commit to me with all his heart and soul. But I knew now that that was just a fantasy and that this was the reality of the situation. I had no choice but to move-on.

  “Well you know what Malcolm, apparently nothings working for you right now, you’re divorce, your finances. As a matter of fact you’re the one calling me-off-the hook at twelve thirty in the morning. Go to hell!” I screamed before hanging up the phone.

  The waterworks began and even though I tried I couldn’t stop them. I laid back down and let myself feel the pain, let the hurt engrave this memory in my heart so I would never be so stupid again. I promised myself that when I woke up for work the next morning, I wouldn’t let this affect me. I had to move-on with my life before thirty or I was likely to be stuck in this same cycle for the rest of my life. I told myself to stop dreaming about the perfect family and let life run its course, whatever that course may be.

  Seventeen

  Sonya

  Last Thursday I got a call from the accounting manager at Maddison’s Apparel requesting an in-person interview with yours truly. Maddison’s is a popular mid-sized women’s boutique here in the valley that specializes in reasonably priced high end fashion apparel for matured women and young adults. They have three popular locations in Las Vegas alone. Debbie - the Accounting Manager - said she received my application for their Accounting Assistant position and that she wanted to invite me in today for a paneled group interview.

  “Great! But are you going to hire me though?”

  That was the question I wanted to ask while she explained the position details and the interpersonal skills one needed to be successful at the job. I was more than interested but I knew better than to get my hopes up too high, the competition was stiff and everybody and their mama was looking for a job these days. However, I was just grateful for the fact that when I got back to Vegas I finished the additional classes in accounting to get my AA or else this wouldn’t’ve even been a possibility.

  I released a moan, then another one, and then another one as my body was hit with uninterrupted surges of pleasure, “Oh baby,” I moaned.

  “Aaah yesss, ohhh,” he moaned as he grabbed my hips while steadily pounding away.

  His deep pounding was perfect, it was neither painful nor bland, and every stroke was engineered to perfection like his dick was made just for my…well you know. It got so damn good it caused my insides to burst as I screamed with pleasure and my body got exactly what it needed after years of sexual drought.

  “Yes, K-, Kyle! Fuck me!”

  “Shit! I’m coming, I’m coming,” he moaned as he pumped faster and faster reveling in ecstasy then released as we both lost ourselves in an orgasmic trance.

  A calm and comfortable feeling eased over my body as I took a moment to catch my breath. It didn’t get any better than this. I stretched out across the bed like a sexy black cat purring after her morning snack. I felt liberated, rejuvenated and most importantly satisfied at another victorious sex session with Kyle. Number three to be exact and not once has he disappointed me. I loved this. I could almost do it all day if it wasn’t counterproductive to my priorities.

  Last week after Kyle was generous enough to buy me a car battery and replace it for me with no complaints or subtle guilt trips, I was very grateful to say the least. He saved me from having to call in another family favor and from being stuck in the parking lot of CVS during the aftermath of a storm. So that night when we were in front of Auto Zone and he dropped the hood after installing the battery and told me I was “good to go”, I already had my number written down on a piece of paper and handed it to him before I pulled off into the wet darkness. Surprising right? Me, give my number to a man? Well it wasn’t just for his benefit but for mines to. My body has needs and apparently my vibrator isn’t as reliable of a source as I thought it was so a plan B was in order. Besides, those butterflies in my stomach weren’t fluttering just because. It was my bodies signal that he was the one to who could satisfy my fleshly cravings.

  I stood up and began to search around the room for my jeans, my socks and my bikini cut underwear when I noticed Kyle’s eyes following my every move.

  I looked at him as I found my underwear and began to put them back on, “What?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Why do you always do that?” He asked turning on his side and resting his head on his fist.

  “Do what?”

  “Get up and leave right after. You scared to talk to me or something?” He asked in his baritone voice.

  I wasn’t scared to talk to Kyle, I just didn’t need to. We were having sex, that’s it, why overcomplicate the situation. Besides, I knew my weakness for pretty men far better than anyone else and if I stayed to entertain him in pillow talk it was probable that I’d revert back to my old ways and get all soft and mushy and caught up in a love situation I didn’t want. My being here and even allowing myself a few lustful moments was already out of my range, and now he wanted to talk? He really must not know me.

  “I have an interview at one, I have to get ready.” I responded

  “Where at?” he asked still trying to pursue me into conversation.

  I gave him a skeptical look before responding, “A retail store, it’s for an accounting position so we’ll see what happens.” I said sliding my jeans around my slender waist and buttoning them.

  He removed the white sheet that was covering his long chiseled dark chocolate frame and stood as he put on his green boxers followed by his grey sweat pants. I shamefully stole brief glances at him as he shook his head sending his beautiful dreads flying into the air before he gathered them into a bun at the crown of his head. He walked over to me and leaned against the wall as he watched me fasten my bra.

  “What?” I questioned shyly.

  He smiled and shook his head, “Nothing, just watching you.”

  His lingering gaze over me made me feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t the act of his gaze itself that gave me that feeling but what it represented, what he wanted from me that I couldn’t give him that made me feel uncomfortable. First he just wants to help me out with my car, now we’re fucking, next he wants me to stay around for pillow talk, then lastly I get my emotions involved and fall head over heels for him when he decides to break my heart. I can’t go through that again, I’m not strong enough; I’ll never be strong enough.

  “I have to go.” I said pulling my white sweatshirt over my head while I slid into my slides.

  He didn’t try to hold me up. He grabbed his shirt from the twisted and tangled bed sheets then replied, “I’ll walk you down.”

  A teeny tiny part inside of me wished I could stay longer but I did a good job at ignoring that feeling. As we walked down the hallway I took a few moments to admire his beautiful home. It was by far the nicest bachelor pad I’ve ever seen. The walls were painted a neutral sandy brown color and the ceilings were high. The high walls provided plenty of windows which allowed ample amounts of natural sunlight to shine to the living room below. His white carp
et was fresh and clean, free of any blemishes and his sleek black leather sofa’s matched the large black picture frames he had elegantly placed around the house.

  My initial guess was that some woman had decorated this for him, an ex-girlfriend or wife perhaps, but when he told me he completed the designs from the burgundy accent walls to the drapes that hung from the windows I was surprised. I guess the only real indication that a bachelor did live here was the mahogany pool table that took the place of an actual dining set in his formal dining room.

  “So when am I gonna see you again Ms. Sonya?” He asked smoothly while he wrapped his arms around me kissing me on my forehead.”

  “I don’t know. We can’t all be lucky like you. Some of us have to work, or look for work in order to make a living.” I said light heartedly as I gently broke the embrace of our hug and headed for the front door.

  “Hmm, trust me I’d trade it all in.”

  I didn’t know what he meant by that. Why would someone trade this in? He owned a beautiful home and a twenty unit apartment complex, not bad at all for a young black man who hadn’t even reached the age of thirty yet. He’d somehow been blessed enough to have all of these things but spent most of his time handling maintenance requests and make-ready’s with the assistance of a tech. I wouldn’t trade that in for anything in the world. Most guys his age would use it as a tool to gain popularity or some kind of false self-esteem about themselves but Kyle didn’t. He had a humble nature when it came to his possessions, which is why he was so tolerable.

  “Well, guess I’ll check you later then,” He said as we stood at the front door, “Good luck, you’ll get it.” He said with more confidence in that statement than I had.

  I opened the door and thanked him before I got in my car and headed for home. Through my rear view mirror I watched him linger at the front porch until I turned the corner and he disappeared back into the house.

  Even after giving Kyle my number that night I was still a little skeptical about us going to school together. That’s why I did some investigative digging until I was able to confirm he was who he actually said he was. Words didn’t really mean jack shit to me. Thanks to the power of the internet everybody has the ability of obtaining just about any information they want about you and in my opinion that didn’t exclude my high school class schedule.

  So with that being said, the day after our CVS run in I went to my mother’s house and helped myself through dusty boxes of books and family photos she had packed away in the garage. She’d told me that my high school memorabilia was stashed away somewhere in there and to help myself. After about an hour of searching through various brown boxes and shifting Christmas decorations, bicycles and my mother’s discontinued exercise equipment I began to get irritated and give up altogether. That was until I saw my name written in black marker next to the words ‘high school stuff’. I bent down and picked up the box which was behind a large framed picture of the Golden Gate Bridge that my mother could never seem to get rid of. When I opened it and began going through its contents: a plethora of academic awards, a junior varsity letter for cheerleading, pictures from pep rallies and finally my award winning poem I wrote sophomore year I began to dwindle down memory lane wondering where the time went.

  “I thought I had it all planned out.” I’d said to myself shaking my head at how naïve I really was.

  I looked at a picture of me and Nina and the rest of our crew of six as we posed for the camera in the bleachers of a basketball game. We were all similarly dressed in light blue short shorts and knee high socks with our schools mascot. I shook my head in disbelief at how tiny Nina used to be. But of course, these were the days before the kids. Even though she gained a lot of weight carried it very well. She doesn’t have a shred of cellulite or any stretch marks thanks to her “God given good genes and blood straight from the fountain of youth,” as she calls it.

  I laughed to myself, “Arrogant heffa.”

  At the bottom of the box I’d finally found what I’d been relentlessly digging for in that cold garage, my senior annual.

  I flipped through the pages searching for the senior class photos section then began skimming the J’s with my finger.

  “James…Jensen…John…” I’d whispered to myself during my pursuit, “C’mon where are you?”

  A moment later my finger stopped at the forth Johnson, I read the proceeding name; Kyle and knew I had my man. His photo was second to last in the row, right next to Latisha Johnson who was better known for dunking on dudes in the basketball court than for her beauty.

  I only needed to study his photo for a second before realizing exactly who he was.

  “Kyle!” I exclaimed in disbelief as I’d walked back into my mother’s house.

  “What! Who is he?” My mother shouted from the kitchen.

  I can’t believe I didn’t remember him, Kyle, the guy who always had a pair of headphones around his neck and the lyrical genius who set the senior talent show on fire two weeks before graduating and became an instant celebrity around campus.

  “Who is he?” My mother had asked again.

  “Just a guy I ran into at CVS yesterday,” I played it off. “We used to go to high school together but I didn’t recognize him. Here look.”

  She’d nodded her head in approval. “He’s handsome.”

  He looked so much younger here, but I guess we all did. His face was still strongly chiseled and his pretty brown eyes and silky black lashes looked very familiar now. The only difference besides eight years of aging and this grown man confidence he now had was his hair. It was cut short back then.

  “Is he single? If so, I hope you gave him your number.”

  “Mama,” I’d griped.

  I’d wondered if they were ever going to give up on this matchmaking business.

  v

  I walked into Madison’s a half hour before my appointment time hoping that would score me a few points with the store manager and accounting manager. Before checking in I made a stop at the bathroom to check my makeup before making my way to the back offices. At least that was the excuse I told myself. The real truth was that I felt nervous, I didn’t know how much longer I could go being unemployed. Even though my part-time gig with Saundra was tax free and I had my weekly unemployment check, that money was going to run out soon. To top it off, I had a disconnect notice from the power company and I was late again on my car payment. And if that wasn’t bad enough my period was also late which told me from experience it was going to be a rough one this month with all the cramps, lower back pains and extreme tittie tenderness to go along with it.

  I stood at the mirror checking myself for any imperfections. I was wearing my same blue DKNY suit I’d worn to the job fair but this time dressed it up with a classy satin blouse, long chain gold necklace and pretty diamond studs in my ears. While looking at myself I began to wonder if it was either too nice, too fancy or both.

  “Maybe they don’t think I need a job, I do look like a million bucks.” I said admiring myself in an attempt to get some kind of comedic relief from my troubles. “Oh well, I can’t do much about it now.”

  Just then the toilet flushed and an artificial looking blonde with a serious boob job walked out of the bathroom stall. I thought I was alone in here.

  “Hi!” She greeted as she approached the sink and began to wash her hands, “I’m Amy. Are you here for the interview to?”

  “Hi Amy, what interview would that be?” I said not wanting to divulge too much information to a stranger.

  “The Accounting Assistant job,” She said as she pulled out her makeup bag and began smearing more pressed powder around her already made-up face. “I really need a job, my husbands’ really been bugging me lately about having another baby because he says I have the free time to do it, so I figured if I get a job and get something to do with my time he won’t pressure me about it anymore, you know?”

  Wow! She just gave me an earful of information I didn’t ask for. I never understood that
about people, how they could just go on telling a perfect stranger, let alone potential competition their life story like it was no big deal. TMI (too much information) Amy, TMI.

  “That sounds like a lot to deal with,” I lied. If she had to trade places with me for a week she’d be more than ready to pop out another biscuit. A kept woman right now sounded very appealing.

  “Tell me about it, I love my son but I’m not the maternal type like that you know. One is enough for me sweetie. Do you have kids?”

  “One day maybe,” I replied while I ran my fingers through my hair catching a few strays.

  “Well let me tell you, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be hun, keep your figure,” She said touching up her extra glossy pink lip gloss and plumping up her breast before she told me to have a good day.

  I was pleased when she left me back alone to my thoughts. I went inside the furthest bathroom stall and found comfort in the corner as I retrieved my diary and fleetingly wrote a much needed prayer to the Lord:

  Dear God thank you for loving me and providing for me no matter the circumstance. Thank you for helping me through my tough times and helping me to become a stronger person. Lord you know my situation, you know my financial problems and my stress and I ask that you bless me today with this opportunity, that you continue to be my provider and that you forgive me for my sins. Thank you for bringing Lamont to justice after all these years and showing me once again that you’re constantly working and that you are just. In Jesus name, amen.

  With that one prayer I felt so much lighter and prepared for this interview. I wanted the job but as I walked through the management office I kept in mind that God had a plan for me and that no matter the outcome of the interview, I was going to be okay.