by Jade Alyse
“You are?” Anthony smiled that amazing smile. “That’s excellent news, girl. Where do you want to go? Dinner’s on me…”
But before she could answer, Asha entered the apartment, tossing her keys on the kitchen counter.
“What’s up, guys?” she asked, with a heavy sigh.
“Nat’s going to Duke.” Anthony said before Natalie could speak.
“She what?” Asha smiled a big. “Natalie Chandler! This calls for real celebration. Where do you want to go?”
“Well actually, Ant and I were—“
“A bar? How about a bar?”
Anthony looked at Natalie. “Natalie, it’s up to you…”
She thought about it some, thought about how a quiet dinner with Anthony would go, dreaded the idea of him grilling her about her day or how she’s feeling or why she’s making that strange face or why she’s drinking her wine so quickly. There will be no laughs tonight, no fun, only seriousness, and quickly decides that a night spent with Asha and the girls, forgetting everything, throwing all problems to the bottom of empty margarita glasses, was all the more worthwhile.
They headed toward Uptown Lounge on East Washington Street. Anthony said he’d pass, had to get up early the next morning, looked disappointed as he told her, as he watched her get into the car with Asha and the girls.
Asha curled Natalie’s shorter hair into loose ringlets, slapped black eyeliner on her narrow eyes, made her borrow her slinky black dress and stiletto heels, making her a giant, making an entire row of boys stare at her as they strolled down the sidewalk.
“You look good,” Asha told her, as they sat on the bar with the girls, glasses of margaritas before them.
Natalie smiled at her friend. “Thank you, I feel good…this outing sounded a lot better than a dinner with Anthony tonight…”
“I agree,” Asha said with a small chuckle. She placed her glass down, wiped away the remnants of the drink from her lips and looked at her friend closely.
“You’re getting bored with him, aren’t you?”
Natalie didn’t answer quickly. She sighed, took another sip of her margarita. The music was loud, clouding any of her deeper thoughts.
“You are,” Asha concluded. “By you not answering, that’s how I know…”
“Not necessarily,” she replied, knowing the truth.
“You’re afraid to admit it…that’s alright,” Asha said. “He’s starting to bore me too…”
They both laughed.
“It’s true,” Asha continued. “You’ve been dating him for over a year…now you’re bored with him. The sex is bad, right?”
Natalie choked a little. She shook her head at Asha’s question finally.
“No…no, there’s no sex…”
“No sex? Well, hell, of course you’re bored!”
Natalie sighed. “I don’t know what to do, Ash,” she admitted.
Asha’s face changed, formed to her friend’s distress.
“He’s beautiful, we make sense together, and he’s smart, determined, goal-oriented…”
“But you don’t love him…”
“Shouldn’t I?”
Asha took another sip of her drink.
“Not if you’re heart’s not in it,” she suggested. “Can’t force it…”
“Definitely forcing it…”
“You shouldn’t…”
“I shouldn’t break up with him…that would be silly…and what would Mama think…?”
“Who gives a damn what your Mama thinks, Nat,” Asha said with a sarcastic laugh. “This is your life, you’re twenty-two years old…and if you don’t think that you should be with Anthony anymore, then you shouldn’t be with Anthony anymore…he’s not the one…”
“If ever such a person existed…tell him, I’m still waiting on him…”
“You don’t have to analyze everything, Natalie Chandler…for once, just for once, let your heart do the talkin’…Mr. Right is around the corner, I swear…”
By this time, Natalie was on her second margarita, felt slightly lightheaded.
“I have to go to the bathroom…”
“Want me to come with you?”
“No, no,” Natalie said, sliding off of her stool. “I’ll be fine…be back in a second…”
She headed towards the back, waited till she got out of Asha’s sight before she reached into her back pocket to retrieve her phone.
She would do it this time; just say “Happy Birthday” and hang up the darn phone. She just wanted to hear his voice…just wanted to know that he was okay…just needed to know.
She stood just before the bathroom door, hidden in shadow, opened her phone, dialed his number, fingers a little shaky. She just wanted it to ring. She just wanted him to know that she still thought about him…still cared…didn’t want to end things the way that she did.
It rang once…
It rang twice…
Breathe, Nat, breathe…this will be easy…
It rang a third time. In close range a phone rang in sync...
It rang a fourth time. The phone in close range rang again…
A fifth time…
A sixth time…the sound of the phone grew closer…what in the world?
A seventh time…the sound seems as if it’s just around the corner.
A clicking sound…dial tone…
“Natalie?”
His hair was much longer, flayed at his ears and skirted around his lower neck. Something about him looked much older, as if he purposely wanted to strip away any remnants that reminded her of how he looked in college: clean-cut and northern. He had grown dark facial hair around his chin, eyes were tired, weary, and he had a strange slouch, something she didn’t recognize, for someone whose posture she once admired.
But he wasn’t drunk. She could tell.
“Brandon…?”
He only looked at her. The look that used to give her chills once upon a time.
“Since when do you wear that much make-up?” He asked, as if that was the most important question of the moment. “I don’t like it. You look hideous...”
“Likewise…” She lied, of course, finding something strangely attractive in the scruff at his chin and the way his hair looked.
“You cut your hair, I see,” he said, studying her face.
Natalie began to play with her dark ringlets for a moment, nervously. “Yes, I’m still getting use to it…I don’t think I like it…”
“Well,” he began. “I do…you look…grownup…”
“Thank you,” she stammered, dropping her hand from her head slowly.
“What the hell are you doing here? And where’s that boyfriend of yours? You do still have a boyfriend, don’t you?”
Natalie felt herself stumble slightly. She realized that she’d consumed her drink too fast.
“I have just as much of a right to be here as you,” she told him, attempting to stand firm. She didn’t like the way her knees pulsated then. “He’s at home…he had to get up early tomorrow morning…”
She watched the expression on his face sour. He didn’t respond.
“Besides,” she continued with a sigh, feeling as if she had to prove some point to him. “I’m celebrating…”
“Celebrating…what?”
She thought about lying, thought about saying that she was celebrating something that dealt with Anthony and their relationship. Instead, Natalie Chandler folded her long arms with pride and said, “That is none of your concern…”
He laughed haughtily. “Oh, really? ‘None of my concern’? Once upon a time, Natalie Chandler, you told me everything…”
“That was then, Brandon…obviously…”
“Ha, well, I’m surprised you’re even out at a place like this…you know, drinking…I thought you had so much ‘control’…”
“I still have control…and don’t mock me…”
“Not from what I can tell,” he told her. “And I wasn’t…”
“Well…you’re blind,”
she said, taking a small step back. “As you were to most things in life…”
He got a little closer. “Still the comedian, I see…is that supposed to hurt my feelings, Tallie?”
She didn’t answer.
She attempted to walk past him, but he stopped her cold, extending his long arm to the opposite wall, creating a small blockade.
“Celebrating what?” he asked again.
She looked at him, felt a lump rise in her throat.
“I’m going to Duke,” she told him, just above a whisper.
“Congratulations…”
“Thank you…”
“You called me…why is that? I don’t hear from you for months…and you decide to call me…for what?”
Before she could answer, a petite woman with short, dark hair, framing her round face approached his side, clutched onto his arm and reached up to kiss his cheek.
Natalie, the dear girl, felt a shudder run through her. There she was; the mystery girl she'd seen so many times coming in and out of the house on Trent Road; the girl who'd become so comfortable, so quickly; the girl whom Natalie hated within an instant of seeing at her.
“We were wondering where you went, Brandon!” she said with her cheeky smile. Then she looked in Natalie’s direction. “Who is this?”
The lump in Natalie’s throat enlarged. And she crossed her arms with discomfort.
“This is my friend from college…Natalie,” Brandon began, followed by a clearing of his throat. “Natalie this is…is…um…”
“Reina,” the girl said under her breath, giving him a cross look. “My name is Reina.”
“Right! Reina…Natalie, this is Reina.”
Natalie shook the girl’s hand, and attempted a smile in her direction, attempted - to the very depths of her - to show Brandon that she was happy for him.
“Well,” she said, dropping her hands, feeling like she could throw up. “I have to run…Asha’s waiting for me…”
“Asha,” Brandon said, genuinely excited. “Might I go and talk to her for a moment?”
Brandon started to step toward the bar, but she placed a hand to his chest, stopped him and said, “No…no, she just had a bad break up…she’s not in the mood to talk to anyone right now…not even you…”
Nope, not even Brandon. Not even the Brandon that she told Natalie’s business to, not even the Brandon who picked her up when her car broke down, not even the Brandon that Asha could turn to when Natalie wasn’t around, not even the Brandon that Asha used to dance with at the house on Trent road on those rainy nights, not even the Brandon that she’d established so many inside jokes with and would stay up and laugh drunkenly about while Scotty and Natalie tried to sleep.
Brandon looked somewhat hurt and took a slow step back.
“I’m sorry,” Natalie breathed.
And she walked away.
She joined Asha at the bar again, gave her a quick smile, and returned to her glass. She bottomed the drink, smacked her lips and mumbled, “She’s sleeping with him…”
Asha arched her eyebrow. “Nat, what the hell are you talking about…?”
“Brandon...he’s sleeping with her…”
“Thank you for telling me that, Natalie, that solved all of my confusion…it really did…”
Natalie signaled the bartender for another for another drink. And, tapping her fingers on the wet bar top, she said, “He’s here…Brandon is here, and he’s with another girl…and he’s been sleeping with her…”
“Brandon’s here? Where?” Asha said, starting to search among the thickening forest of people.
“He left,” Natalie lied. “Left with that girl…” “Oh, damn,” Asha said, turning back toward the bar. “Well, Nat…did you think he’d just dry up like a prune after you refused him? It’s been six months, give him a break…and it’s a bar…it’s like a second home to Brandon…”
Natalie looked at her friend curiously. “You’ll defend him to the end, won’t you?”
“Oh, Natalie, please,” Asha said, taking a sip of her drink. “This is not about taking sides…it’s about moving on…”
Natalie received her drink from the bartender, clutched it between her tiny fingers, and looked down into it. And she sighed.
“I mean, if Anthony isn’t the one,” Asha continued. “Then you need to find someone else out there that suits you. You made it very clear that neither Brandon nor Ant were the ones for you…let Brandon be happy…and don’t let Ant suffer any longer than he has to…”
“You’re mistaken, Asha,” Natalie told her, taking a long swallow of her drink. “I’m quite over him…quite…”
“Save the lies, Nat…you’re drinking and that’s a telltale sign…always has been…”
Natalie didn’t answer. She only continued to drink.
She didn’t realize how drunk she’d become in a short time until Anthony called her cellular phone after midnight, asking her if she was coming to his place to stay the night. She’d said something strange and slurred-like, something angry, something telling him that she didn’t want to be around him at night, because he only pressured her into having sex with him at night. He’d returned with something angry-like, something loud-voiced, something calling her uptight and prudish, and then a dial tone.
Yes, Natalie Chandler didn’t realize her level of intoxication until she tossed her phone somewhere behind the bar, and after hearing the first couple of notes from one of the very few rap songs that she ever listened to, she proceeded to climb the barstool in which she sat, and climb atop the slippery bar top. Asha, who’d just come back from the bathroom, approached her, wide-eyed, mouth gaping.
“Natalie, what the hell are you doing?”
Natalie only danced, sang the words loudly to the song, and a few drunken white boys hollered at her, encouraging her, gathering around her slowly, watching her.
She felt the dizzy pleasure, felt the beat, felt the melody, felt the pulse…
And she smiled, laughing sloppily. No one would ever call her uptight…and did he say prudish? What was he thinking, calling her prudish? She would lift the hem of her dress like this; she would tease those pretty white boys below her like that. Yes, they liked how she played with the strap of her dress, didn’t they? Pretending as if she was going to show them something really special. But she wouldn’t…or would she? She would play with her bob for a little while, with play with its loose, dark curls, would toss her head like one of those white Ugly Coyote girls, would toss up one of her long legs, hike up her dress a little.
She would feel light, feel the warmth of the alcohol, feel her inhibitions fall.
She would even ignore her best friend below her, hollering at her to come down, even attempting to grab at her ankles.
“Natalie Savannah Chandler! Come down right now…or I’m leaving you!”
She would shake her friend off of her ankles, she would laugh giddily, and she would show more skin. Yes, more skin...
“Tallie, get the fuck down from there…”
She, who had closed her eyes, opened them, and saw that Brandon Greene climbing the bar. She stepped back too fast, slipped on her high black heels, but that boy lunged out and caught her swiftly, and he pulled her down off the bar with him. She put up a notable fight but failed in the face of his prevailing strength. The horny onlookers began booing at the big, bad Brandon.
She only fell limp in his arms.
Brandon swiftly tossed Natalie over his shoulder, and she beat his back, but he headed outdoors anyway, Asha following closely behind. Brandon and Asha conversed so lowly that she couldn’t hear them. Her increasing agitation then prompted her to start screaming at him incoherently.
“Puh me dow…Bran…puh me down…righ now…you hurtin’ me…Brand…Brandon!”
And he did, right into the front seat of Asha’s Volvo. He’d strapped her in, didn’t say a word to her, shut her door, and she heard him say, though relatively muffled, “Two Advil and water…and make sure she gets her ass in t
he bed...oh yeah, and a trash can by her bed…she’s definitely got a rough night ahead of her…”
She’d forgotten the last time she cried about Brandon, and was sickened by the idea that the tears were approaching the moment she stumbled into the apartment behind Asha, who held her hand, guiding her.
She collapsed onto the bed, felt the familiar lump in her throat. She pictured Brandon, his arms around that girl, his lips on that girl, pictured him laying with that girl, sleeping with that girl in the same spot that she’d occupied so many times over. And with tear-smeared cheeks, she ran towards the bathroom, emptied the contents of her belly into the toilet, and slumped to the side of the toilet lazily, wishing then, that Brandon was there to pick her up and carry her to bed.
They would lie together, he would rub her head with his big hand, and she would feel his rhythmic breath on her skin, and she’d relish in the fact that she was with him again.
She felt her eyes close slowly, felt her head grow heavy, and roll quickly to the right. A hazy image appeared through the pain of her throbbing skull, and the image slowly became less blurry…
Brandon stands in a tuxedo…he is smiling…Brandon attempts to reach for her hand…she cannot reach him…suddenly the distance becomes greater and greater…she is shouting in his direction…shouting his name, tears follow…a loud crashing sound nearly collapses her eardrums…she watches Brandon slump down slowly, his white shirt beneath his jacket begins to turn red…the distance grows greater…she realizes she cannot save him…Brandon lies dead on the floor, out of her reach…
Her eyes reopened and she felt a strange, cool sweat about her chest, felt her heart grip, and she murmured his name between her lips.
As she recollected herself there on the cool tile floor, Asha rushed to her side, having retired almost an hour prior.
Her friend reached for her hands, pulled her up to her feet, and in a flash it seemed she was in the bed, and Asha was sitting by her side, and Asha was coaxing her to drink water.
She refused to drink, pushing the glass away with her boney fingers.
“Go away, Ash—Asha,” Natalie told her friend. “I’m fine…”
“You are not fine,” Asha Castile scoffed. “And you haven’t been fine since you saw Brandon at the bar.”
