by Day, Zuri
As D’Andra stepped from the shower, last night’s dream came back into her mind. Her face flushed as she remembered the details: Night’s long, thick, slightly curved manhood poised over her. She wondered if it really looked like that even as she wondered why she kept dreaming about him. She’d never dreamt of Charles, in fact had never before had an erotic dream that she could remember. But her memories from their phantasm encounter had her longing to see the real thing.
“Aunt DeeDee!” a trio sang out.
“C’mon, Aunt DeeDee, we’re hungry!” Antoine whined.
“Hurry up, Aunt DeeDee!” Tonia demanded.
“Can I help you cook?” Kayla asked as soon as D’Andra opened the door.
D’Andra and company whipped up a semi-healthy brunch of blueberry pancakes (with flaxseed added to aid in digestion), egg-white omelets (which everyone complained about yet ate), and turkey bacon. Mary offered a rare compliment, saying she was surprised at how good the eggs were without the yokes.
“That’s where all the bad cholesterol is,” D’Andra explained.
“Well, I like my eggs yellow,” Cassandra added.
“Well, next time you can make ’em that way,” D’Andra retorted.
Cassandra looked at D’Andra surprised. Her sister was starting to let fewer and fewer of her barbs go un-contested.
“I’ll do the dishes, Dee,” she said, to everyone’s surprise. “What? Like I don’t clean?”
“No!” was the unanimous answer.
Forty-five minutes later, D’Andra and the kids were at Dockweiler Beach, a long glorious stretch of ocean in Playa del Rey. They’d gathered an array of beach accessories: umbrella, blankets, beach chairs, arm floats, beach balls, sunblock, shovels and pails. D’Andra carried a bag filled with bottled water and low sodium snacks. She also had a mini first-aid kit, just in case. And in a move that would have made Johnnie Cochran proud, she’d chanted a verse in hip-hop fashion while they were en route that Tonia was bossily reminding Antoine of as he ran down the slope.
“Antoine, get back here! If you want to stay, you must obey!”
D’Andra hid her grin and chided both the twins. “Tonia, I’m the boss around here. Antoine, bring your little skinny butt back up here until we’re ready to go down.”
They found a spot away from the diverse Sunday crowd, the loud music and the Frisbee throwers and set up camp. Kayla helped D’Andra spread out the blanket and put up the umbrella, even after she’d told her little helper to run and play.
She handed Kayla a bucket and one of the shovels. “Go find some shells to put in the fish tank.”
“What fish tank, Aunt Dee?”
The one that’s going in my new place when I move. “I’m thinking about buying one. You can help me decorate it with the shells you find.”
D’Andra positioned her chair to be shielded from the sun. It was unusually hot for early February, which explained the dense crowd. She remembered how Chanelle’s cousin from Michigan always teased them when she came to visit.
“Y’all get on my nerves,” she’d say whenever one of them complained about rain or a fifty-degree chill. “Come to Detroit, handle ice and snow, and then talk to me about cold weather.”
Chanelle’s cousin was right; Californians were spoiled. It had rained for probably five whole minutes the two days prior. The way people were soaking up the sun you’d think they just endured Jack Frost.
D’Andra reached into her beach bag and pulled out the reading material she’d brought to occupy her while the kids ran around. The book’s title, Love Like Hallelujah, had caught her eye as she passed by the book section on her way to the DVDs in Wal-Mart. D’Andra bought the book because she hoped to have a love like that.
She pulled out a bottled water, reclined her chair and opened the novel. Before she’d finished the first chapter she was in love with one of the main characters, Cy Taylor, who fit the description of the man of her dreams. In the book’s beginning, he was in love with his fiancée and shopping in Victoria’s Secret for her honeymoon surprise.
D’Andra hoped men like Cy came in fact as well as fiction. Still, it did a sistah good to dream. As long as it was about somebody fictitious and not the personal trainer she would see in two days. She’d tried to forget her dreams but every time her mind wandered it was to the naked man who stood before her, poised and ready, in Bally’s sauna…
D’Andra placed the book on her chest as she rested her head back on the chair. Maybe reading a novel filled with romantica wasn’t such a good idea after all. The things the Cy character thought of doing with his fiancée were the same things Night had done in the dream.
There she went again. D’Andra hurriedly put the book back in her bag, determined to get away from anything that reminded her of Night. She shielded her eyes to see where the kids were. As to be expected, Kayla was holding court down by the ocean’s edge, with about ten white, black and brown children, including the twins, gathered around her. No doubt she’d have a pile of shells for D’Andra to choose from, and no doubt she would have delegated the gathering of such shells to the minions around her. On that count, getting her hands dirty, she was more like Cassandra. She’d rather not.
Satisfied that all was well with her charges, D’Andra took in the scene around her. There was a vast array of sights and sounds: bicyclers and roller bladers, joggers and walkers, families and couples. Far down on the beach she saw a Black man playing with a group of young boys and smiled. That’s an image rarely seen on television, she thought, a brothah with his children. It felt good for her to see it, and made her think that maybe there were some good men out there after all, other than the fictitious Cy Taylor making his woman scream hallelujah.
After lying back and resting her eyes a moment, D’Andra decided her legs needed a little sun. She rolled her wide-legged palazzo pants up to mid-thigh and repositioned the umbrella to allow the rays to reach her sun-deprived skin. Anybody who thinks that Black people don’t tan should see my arms, she thought, as she noted the contrast between them and her legs. She reached for the sunblock in her bag then frowned when a cloud passed over the sun, blocking out her light.
Only this cloud had two muscled legs and big feet. Her breath caught at the display of manliness showing itself from the waist down. She was suddenly conscious of her exposed thighs and noting their chubbiness, remembered she’d forgotten to weigh herself this morning. She was sure she’d lost at least ten pounds, maybe more. But manly or no, this guy was pretty bold; standing there and staring without a hello.
“Excuse me, but you’re in my sun,” she said with playful attitude.
“Oh,” the man said, squatting down to see her face. “I thought I was looking at it.”
“Night! What are you doing here?”
“Same thing as you, catching some sun. I know, you probably don’t think I need it but my skin loves this heat.” He looked at the bottle of sunblock. “Allow me.”
D’Andra was thankful for her sunglasses; that way Night couldn’t see her reaction to the same words he’d uttered in her dream. She squirmed, suddenly aware of her bare legs, and of the fact that Night was staring. She lowered her eyes to break the contact. Wrong move; her gaze landed squarely on his crotch, or more specifically the bulky bulge that made up his crotch. Just like in my dream…
“What are you doing here?” she asked again, for lack of anything better to say. Her mind had a tendency to turn to mush around Night. She was going to have to change that.
He’s a friend, my trainer, walking dirt, nothing more! For once she thankfully let Mary’s voice enter her mind. I ain’t raised no fools. Now straighten up and act like you’ve got some sense!
Just then a group of boys ran over, knocked Night to the ground and started pouring sand over him. Laughing, he caught the nearest one by his foot and returned the favor. Soon the boys were off, chasing each other toward the water. With no hesitation, Night followed them right into the ocean, their sand fight changing to a water one w
ithout breaking momentum. She noticed Antoine running toward them to join the fray.
Resuscitating a five-year-old with water in his lungs wasn’t on her schedule today. D’Andra jumped up and ran towards her nephew.
“Antoine! Get back!”
Night turned and saw the source of D’Andra’s frustration stop cold just at the water’s edge. He smiled at the child, then ran over, grabbed him and placed him on his shoulders.
“He’s okay,” he called out to D’Andra. “I’ve got him.”
Once again D’Andra was struck by Night’s kindness. Too bad she wasn’t in the market for a man right now because, if she were, he’d be a good candidate for an LTR: a long-term relationship. But this time was all about her. After she got herself together, if he was still around and available, maybe she’d see what was up.
D’Andra noticed a young boy of about eight or nine clinging to Night. She’d never wondered whether or not he had children but now the question niggled her mind. Was that his child? The boy looked a lot like Night and many men his age had children. D’Andra had never even considered “baby mama drama” when it came to Night’s life. But then she had to remind herself that Night’s life was none of her business. Just walking dirt.
“Hey, let’s take a walk along the beach,” Night said, coming up and spraying water on her.
“Night! My hair!”
“Your hair is fine,” he said laughing. “C’mon, let’s get some exercise.”
“I don’t like walking in the sand. It’s dirty…and wet.”
“Newsflash D’Andra. You’re at the ocean; sand and water are a part of the deal. Besides, walking in sand is good for you.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious. You ever heard of reflexology?”
“Yes.”
“Well, walking in the sand provides a natural reflexology; the sand forms itself to your feet and the granules massage your pressure points with each step. So you’re not only burning calories but you’re releasing toxins. C’mon, let’s walk.”
“I have to watch the kids.”
Night turned to his group. “Kimani, come here.”
Sixteen years of walking testosterone loped over. “What up, Night?”
“You’re in charge of the group for the next fifteen minutes. Can you handle that?”
D’Andra could have sworn she saw hair grow on the boy’s chest; he was that proud. “Sure I can.”
“Those kids too,” Night said, pointing to D’Andra’s three.
Kimani nodded.
“We’re just gonna stroll up the beach a ways.”
“Ai-ight.”
Night turned to D’Andra. “Let’s go.”
“Did you know you can be pretty bossy sometimes?”
“I’ve been told that a time or two; but that’s primarily an asset in my business.”
The two chatted comfortably as they walked along the shoreline. At certain points, Night directed D’Andra to do lunges, holding the pose for as long as possible before changing legs. At other times, they did squats.
“Is that boy your son, the one in the cutoff jeans?”
“Why do you ask?”
“He looks like you.”
Night smiled. “I’ve heard that before. No, he’s not but I wish he were. He’s my second cousin, Aunt Jewel’s grandson.”
“Oh.”
“So you want kids, huh?”
“Of course.”
D’Andra didn’t trust herself to say anything more so she remained silent a moment before changing the subject.
“I want to thank you again for taking the time to work with me, Night. I think it’s really helping.”
“I think so too; you’ve lost weight.”
“You think so? I haven’t weighed myself again, like you told me.”
Night flashed a satisfied smile, then returned to his ever-present role of trainer.
“Be more concerned with how you feel than what you weigh,” Night instructed. “Your body will let you know when it’s the right size. It’s too easy to get caught up on a number when different body types weigh differently. Women of color have denser bodies so on most of those charts they come off as overweight, when that may not be true at all.”
“You told me this Night; you don’t remember?”
“Yes, and I’m telling you again. It’s cool to weigh yourself every now and then, as long as you don’t let the number dictate how you feel about yourself. I want to make sure you get that.”
She quelled the urge to salute. “I’ve got it.”
They walked more, sometimes talking, sometimes enjoying companionable silence. There were a million questions D’Andra wanted to ask but didn’t. She was afraid that the more she got to know him the harder it would be to keep up the wall. So they kept the conversation limited to health and fitness.
“I made a big decision yesterday,” she said after a pause.
Night’s question was in his expression.
“I decided to go back to school, take some classes at El Camino.”
“Excellent. What field?”
“Nutrition.”
D’Andra told Night about the statistics she’d read on the Internet, the unhealthy habits that led to her own health crisis and her plans to help educate the community.
“That’s exactly my plan with the classes I’m structuring—teaching people to eat to live instead of living to eat.”
“I think you’ll get a great deal of interest and hopefully participation. More and more information is available on the importance of diet and exercise, and the older you get, the more important it becomes.”
“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Getting ready to hit the big 3-0,” D’Andra answered readily. She wasn’t one of those women who felt uncomfortable with her age. To her, it was just a number.
“What about you?”
“Thirty-five.”
“I would have guessed younger than that.”
Night stroked his chin. “Yeah, it’s the baby face.”
“Hum, no doubt. I’m sure you’ve gotten more than your share of attention with that face.” D’Andra said this matter-of-factly, without sarcasm.
Night cut his eyes at D’Andra to see if she was teasing. She wasn’t. “You’d be surprised,” is all he said in response.
A piercing scream cut off further conversation. It came from where they were headed and the group of kids who’d been left in Kimani’s charge. Night sprinted ahead as D’Andra ran as fast as she could in the gripping sand. When she reached the circle, Night was kneeling over a squalling Tonia. The first thing D’Andra noticed was Tonia’s lack of tears.
“Stop crying, Tonia. Where does it hurt?” Used to handling health crisis, D’Andra’s demeanor was cool, calm and collected.
Tonia’s answer was another wail.
“Tell her Tonia!” Antoine urged, not wanting his twin’s pain to spoil his fun. “If you want to stay you must obey!”
That remark brought a smirk from Night, a snicker from some of the kids, a scowl from D’Andra and yet another howl from Tonia.
“Move back, kids,” D’Andra ordered. Either Tonia had worked up a little water or something was really wrong with her. D’Andra moved the tiny hand that was clutching the equally tiny foot and immediately noticed the red welt forming on her niece’s heel.
“Carry her over here for me, Night,” D’Andra said commandingly as she pointed to her beach umbrella. “She’s been bitten.”
Night followed D’Andra’s orders without comment, even as he hushed Tonia’s howls with a whispered edict that only the little girl heard: screaming makes the bite hurt more; humming softly helps it feel better. The entire circle moved as one to D’Andra’s belongings. Night laid Tonia on the blanket while D’Andra retrieved her first-aid kit.
“Looks like a jellyfish bite,” she said matter-of-factly as she alternately used sand and a scruffy towel to remove the prickly tentacles remaining in Tonia’s foot.
She examined it closer once the area had been sanitized. Fully in nurse mode she diagnosed the situation. “Doesn’t look too venomous though; there’s no swelling and limited redness.”
Once done she activated a small bag of dry ice and instructed Tonia to hold it on her foot. Lastly she pulled out a vial of clear liquid and using a cotton swab, dabbed it on the inflamed area.
“Does that feel better?” she asked her.
Tonia nodded slowly, and continued humming.
“Why are you humming?”
When Tonia’s answer was simply to hum a little louder, D’Andra shook her head and looked at Night, who shrugged his shoulders.
D’Andra shook her head, perplexed. “Well…at least she stopped screaming.”
Excitement over, the rest of the group ventured back to the ocean’s edge. Soon Tonia joined them, playing as if nothing had ever happened.
“Here, give me that.” Without waiting for an answer, Night took the bottle of sunblock from D’Andra’s hand and as methodically as she’d applied the ointment to Tonia’s heel, began to rub the cool cream on to D’Andra’s legs.
“I can do that, Night,” D’Andra eked out around the breath caught in her throat. His nimble fingers on her ankles and calves were causing all kinds of feelings and thoughts to shoot through her body and mind.
“I know you can; but I get the feeling you’re the type that takes care of everybody else. You came here fully prepared, first-aid kit and all. It’s time someone took care of you.”
D’Andra felt herself relax in spite of herself. Night gently kneaded her muscles as he rubbed in the lotion. She could get used to this, but no, she couldn’t. It felt too good.
She drew her legs away from him. “Really, Night, I can do it.” She reached for the lotion, but Night had other plans.
“What is it; my sensual massage turning you on from the toes up?”
He’d hit the nail on the head and D’Andra didn’t know whether to be frightful or flattered. There was no way someone like Night would understand how someone like Charles could make a woman distrustful of all men. She was sure that the man kneeling at her feet was used to being the heartbreaker, not the heartbroken.
“What are you doing?”
