by Nikki Harmon
“Yup, we are, but it’s in the name of love…. OK, let’s just stay as close to the truth as possible. We were all close friends in high school; we’re taking a get away weekend down here and decided to look for our long-lost friend. And I can tell him about Brian, etc. That should suffice, don’t ya think?”
“OK, I’ll try not to look desperate,” I say.
“Oh, you never look desperate, sis. Maybe it’s your medical training, but you always look cool as a cucumber. I like your hair this way, by the way, makes you look six inches taller….”
We while away the next hour chatting with the other bar patrons and the bartender. We order some sweet potato fries and chicken wings. By 11:15, I start to get anxious.
“He’s not coming tonight, is he?” I ask.
“It’s Friday night, it’s his bar, so he’ll be here. What else do we have to do anyway?” Viv replies. The crowd is starting to get a little noisier, a little rowdier, and a little rougher around the edges. I do not want to be here around two or three, whenever they close. Then we see a big, husky, but good-looking guy around our age come through one of the Employee Only doors. He is light-skinned with a baldie and a sandy goatee – big enough to be imposing, but not threatening.
He comes back behind the bar and greets the bartenders. He then begins serving drinks, making his way around the bar, saying “hello” to the regulars, flirting with the ladies, joking with the guys. He seems like a nice guy. I thought I would be jealous but I’m not, I just want to know where she is. He makes his way around to our section of the bar while we try to be casual and make small talk. The bartender comes over and introduces us to him.
“Kevin, these are the ladies who were looking to talk to you. Vivian and Dee,” she says, all business. I am stunned that she remembered our names and when did she give him warning?
We say hello all around and Viv compliments him on the bar.
“So,” Kevin says, “what can I do for you fine ladies this evening?”
Viv takes the lead. “Well, we were hoping you could help us find an old friend of ours.”
“And who would that be?” he asks.
“We went to high school with a girl who came down here for college. She went to Spelman. My cousin, Brian Jeffries, said you knew her, Candace Wheeler?” she asks. His tone changes from charming and in charge to bitter and defensive.
“Candace!” he spits out. “Yeah, I knew her. I was going to marry her.” He turns away and grabs a bottle of Ketel One off the shelf. The bartender closes her eyes and shakes her head. I have a feeling that this is not going to end well. Kevin pours himself a shot and throws it back.
“So you knew Candace? From high school? I’m curious, was she a lying bitch then too?” he asks quietly. Uh-oh.
“Um, well, no, not to my knowledge. We were good friends, but we all lost touch after we graduated, so we thought….” I stammer. I do not want to get this big man upset.
“Good friends, huh, what did you say your names are?” he asks.
“I’m Vivian, she’s Dee or Deirdre,” says Viv hesitantly. She moves protectively towards me. Hell hath no fury like a man scorned.
“Dee, Vivian…. I don’t remember her ever talking about a Vivian or Deirdre and we were together for almost four years. Maybe it’s another Candace Wheeler?” he asks. He might be scorned, but he sounds genuinely concerned that we have the wrong woman. Oh, he was a nice guy at heart, but she must have hurt him deeply. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. He hands over a picture.
“Is this the woman you’re looking for? This is my Candy,” he says.
I take the picture and my heart skips a beat. It’s a standard studio photo with a white background. She’s wearing a white shirt and jeans. It’s Candace. She looks the same as she did, still beautiful, maybe a little wiser, maybe a little more mature and her hair is longer. But it’s my Candace. A lump rises in my throat. I swallow it and try to play it cool.
“Yeah, that’s Candace, right Viv?” I say handing off the picture. I can’t look anymore.
“Yeah, she looks the same,” she says happily. “So, it seems like this may be a sore subject, but do you know how we could get in touch with her?”
Kevin takes his photo back, puts it neatly back into his wallet and shoves the whole thing into his back pocket. Then he pours another shot of Ketel One.
“Would you like a shot?’ he asks.
“No, we’re drinking Jack and Coke. I don’t think the two would mix,” I say.
“Right—Gloria, can you get two Jack and Cokes for these nice ladies, on the house.” Then he turns to us, does his shot and leans on the bar. “I don’t think I can help you, but since you’re here, maybe you two can help me. If you know Candy like you say you do, and I’m not sure that you do seeing as she never mentioned your names, but maybe you know something I don’t know.”
We settle into our drinks and lean in.
“Candy and I met during our freshman year; I was at Morehouse, and she was at Spelman. It was a typical college relationship with some small problems, but mostly we were both serious students who had plans and no time for petty drama. We fit well together and she was the best thing about my time in college. We had plans to marry after graduation. I had not proposed, but we both knew I would when I had a job and a ring. I never cheated on her although I had opportunities and I could be stupid, but I don’t think she ever cheated on me. Anyway, our first year out of college, she lived with some friends and I moved back home to save money, and then came New Year’s Eve. For some reason, she was always emotional on New Year’s Eve—I think it had something to do with her family.…”
No Kevin, it wasn’t her family. Absurdly, I feel a sense of pride. She was still thinking about me, even through college. I have a small but flickering hope.
He continues, “…but this last one, my family had a party here at the bar. We came dressed up and looking good. We danced, did some drinking and I thought we were having a good time until midnight came and she started to cry. I hugged her and asked what was wrong. She said ‘Nothing and everything. I’m sorry.’ Then she kissed me and ran out the door. I tried to follow her but got caught in an altercation. I called her that night, the next day, all day. I gave her some time and called a couple of days later and her friends said she had moved out. She didn’t leave any information, she just left.”
He pours and drinks another shot. He sighs and looks around. I feel sorry for him.
Kevin looks us in the eyes and says, “I’m not too proud a man to say that I loved her with all my heart, and that when she left me, she broke me. But what hurt the most is that she left without telling me why. I have no idea what I did or did not do. She just up and left. I haven’t talked to her since.” He leans back on the bar. “Now, do you know why she might have done that, old friends of Candace?” he asks. “Did she leave another brother back in Philly, or something?”
“No,” I say, “as far as I know, she didn’t leave anybody behind.”
“I don’t know why she would have done something like that,” says Viv. “She always seemed very caring and honest to me. It doesn’t seem like her to just leave like that.”
Kevin sighs. “Yeah, I know.” He pours another shot.
“Hey Kevin,” I say. “What did she end up majoring in? What did she want to be, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I don’t mind. For a while she talked about nursing and working overseas for non-profits but we all talked her out of that, of course. She graduated with a degree in education. She decided to be a teacher.”
“Oh, that’s interesting, thanks,” I say, meaning it.
“Yeah, thanks Kevin, sorry about Candace, really,” says Viv.
“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help. If you do find her, tell her…tell her….” He shakes his head. “Never mind … let me know if you ladies need anything else. I have some work to do in the back.” He moves on down the bar and out through the Employees Only door. We watch him go,
finish our drinks, pay and leave. It’s a heavy thing to feel all that heartbreak coming off a big ole nice guy like him.
~~~
Later in our suite, as we lay in our beds thinking our own thoughts, I couldn’t bear it any longer.
“You know Candace and I had our first sex on New Year’s Eve, remember?” I ask.
”Yes, of course, I remember. It was a big fucking deal!” she laughs.
“Do you think it was me? Do you think she was thinking of me and that’s why she left?” I ask.
“Of course,” says Viv.
“Why didn’t she come back home then—why didn’t she come for me?” I wonder aloud.
“Maybe she wasn’t ready to face you; maybe she needed to be alone. Think about it. She was with you through most of high school, then she was with Kevin through most of college, maybe she needed some space,” Viv mumbles, then yawns.
“Yeah, but where did she go?” I ask quietly. Vivian snores.
The rest of the weekend Viv and I hang out just like old times, eating soul food, window shopping in a mall, and walking through Spelman’s campus. I spend a lot of time thinking about Candace and imagining what her life was like down here. When I first found out about her long-term relationship with Kevin, I was jealous thinking that she had found happiness with someone else, a man no less. After his story of her abrupt departure, I worry that she’s unhappy and has been unhappy all along. I wonder if she’s living a miserable, closeted existence. I wonder if she regrets our relationship.
Saturday night, we find the gay girls club and go. Viv finds a few cute women to dance with, but I spend most of the night searching faces for Candace, wondering if she secretly knew any of these women or if she stayed away from women altogether. By the end of the night, I am exhausted and tired and no closer to Candace. In fact, I feel farther away.
Sunday evening, Viv and I are saying goodbye in the Newark Airport parking lot. Morgan came to pick her up. I look in the car and wave to her. I look back at Viv.
“Good luck,” I say.
“You too,” she says. We hug goodbye and she drives off with her doomed relationship. I find my car and drive back to Philly to my empty apartment.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
By the middle of the week, I have finally caught up with my patients, my paperwork, and my appointments. I meet my sister downtown at Crimson Moon for coffee and to catch her up.
“So,” she drawls, “Did you find Candace down there in Hotlanta?”
“No, but we did find her trail of heartbreak,” I countered and then held my silence as I sipped my iced coffee with a shot of banana.
“OK, I’ll bite. What are you talking about?” she asks. So I tell her the whole story. I leave out the part about Viv’s doomed relationship. It was too personal. And Janine never liked Vivian, so I don’t want her to gloat.
“So she’s a teacher? Well, she could be doing that anywhere…. I hate to help you, but have you tried tracking her down through Facebook?” she asks hesitantly.
“Of course, but nothing comes up with her name, and she’s not friends with any of our friends from school. I even ‘inboxed’ some people who I thought might know, but nobody has seen her or knows where she is. It’s crazy!” I exclaim.
“Hmmm…. She’s a teacher…. Maybe she was inspired to be one because of one of her teachers. Have you reached out to any of them? Maybe she got in touch with them for some career advice or something.”
My heart starts racing. Janine is right. I had not thought about teachers. I can barely get through my coffee. I just want to get home to my laptop. Janine, however, will not be denied her evening out and she regales me with tales of her graduate courses, goofy classmates, and the horrors of living back home with our parents.
Finally back at home, I get on Facebook and search for my high school teachers’ names. Not a few of them are on Facebook, but I absolutely cannot ‘friend’ all of them. It’s just too weird. I try to remember which teachers Candace really liked and it hit me – Ms. Brown of course. Now what was her first name??? After looking that up (and it took a while since she no longer teaches at Girls’ High) I copy it into the search bar, ‘Susan Brown.’ Ms Brown’s face pops up third in the list. I click her page hoping she’s lax on the privacy settings, but no, her page is on lockdown. I send the friend request and hope to God she remembers who I am and that she ‘friends’ former students. I cross my fingers.
~~~
On Saturday morning, I get another invite from Leslie to a ladies tea. I don’t do tea dances, so I decline, but get the hint to call their friend. I spend the morning relaxing and checking Facebook every few minutes. I decide to call Noema that afternoon.
It is a beautiful day, and I think for sure that everyone and their mother will be out enjoying the sunshine. Wrong. It’s 3 p.m. and Noema is home. I’m a little suspicious right off the bat, but I brush it off. Even though I spent the morning doing nothing, and I am at home at 3 p.m. still doing nothing, should I be ostracized for it?
“Hi. This is Dee, Laurie and Leslie’s midwife. We met a couple of weeks ago,” I say rather stiffly.
“Yes, hi, Dee. I’m glad you called. I was just thinking about you,” she replies.
“Oh, yeah? What were you thinking?” I ask.
“I was thinking about calling you because you were really taking way too long!” she jokes. Her voice has that cute girl sound to it. Every other word has a slight crack to it making her sound unsure and yet amused at the same time. I find it charming and can’t stop smiling. Uh oh.
“Ah, well, you know, it’s been busy at the office, dear. Babies being born and all that jazz,” I say affecting a high society accent.
“I hope that’s not always going to be your excuse, darling, because that will only get you so far, Miss Midwife. You won’t leave me sitting around with my meatloaf drying out.”
I laugh. “You are very funny for an artist, Miss Noema. I thought artists were serious types with lots of serious things to express.”
“Oh, I can bring the serious shit, but I save that for serious art lovers and critics. You don’t strike me as either.” I laugh. What the hell! She seems like she could be fun, and there is the business of that tattoo.
“Well, you’re right about that. I’m just a simple girl, with simple tastes…. Hey, what are you doing this week? Would you like to go out and get some dinner, Miss Artist? I know a great place with some very interesting decor,” I say.
“You are out of luck, Miss Midwife. I am all booked up this week, but maybe the following week? I might be able to squeeze you in on Tuesday, if that’s OK with you?” she offers.
I’m a little disappointed, but I check my calendar and agree to that date.
“Great,” she says, “I’ll call you that Monday to confirm details, OK?” I can hear her smiling.
“OK,” I say, trying to sound breezy about it. But I have this nagging feeling that I’m being lead on a little chase. I try to decide if I like it or not. “Bye, Noema.”
“Bye, Dee. Enjoy the day!” And she hangs up. I stare at her card and feel a bit conflicted. She could be interesting…. But I’m looking for Candace. Right? I probably should not start anything while I’m still thinking about my first love, right? Isn’t that why I let Pepper go? For space, for the chance to be truly in love … again … maybe.
I spend the rest of the day doing really boring tasks like paying bills, cleaning, and going through junk mail. Finally around 9 p.m. I feel caught up and decide I want to have some fun. But where? Not Marlene’s, I might run into Pepper. Not Twelfth Street, I might run into Angel working her magic on some other hapless female. I just saw Bernie—Viv is back in Brooklyn, and my sister … I just saw her too!
I decide to go to a movie. I check the times and there’s an interesting foreign flick at the Ritz on Sixth Street. I head out, park in an overpriced lot, of course, and stroll into the theater ready to be swept away. I get a big bag of buttered popcorn and an orange soda and take a center
seat. All around me are people on dates. Mostly older straight couples, but some younger artsy kids, two gay men holding hands, and a few single folks smattered throughout.
Then I hear it, the voice I just pegged as the cutest voice ever. It’s laughing quietly, but I immediately recognize it. Suddenly the lights dim and the previews start. But I follow the sound of ‘the voice’ to the lower left side where I can see two women, heads close together, sharing a drink and looking very intimate. One has a baldie, the other has on a hat and on the back of her neck, the top of a familiar tattoo.
I try to ignore them for the rest of the movie, but I can’t. I miss most of the film, glancing at them every few minutes. They don’t kiss, but they seem very comfortable with each other. I leave just before the movie ends to avoid any awkwardness and go home wondering what’s her deal? If she’s dating someone, why is she going on a date with me? Why do I even care? I’m supposed to be looking for Candace anyway. I go home to bed, unsatisfied with my movie night, unsatisfied in general.
On Sunday, I decide to go for a run. It’s so beautiful on Kelly Drive in the morning. The leaves are bright green, flowers are blooming, the air is warm and still spring fresh, and I am determined to do three miles. The Drive is full of new mothers walking their babies in strollers, veteran runners doing their usual five or 10 or 20 miles, and a slew of people who look like they are all trying to hurry up and get fit before summer is in full swing. I’m one of the latter. Huffing and puffing, I do my three miles and collapse on a bench. I check Facebook on my phone. Nothing.
~~~
After our glorious New Year’s Eve, Candace and I were inseparable. Other friends and activities got slowly but surely edged into the fringes, and we became the center of each other’s life. We were content to have everyone believe that we were just best friends and had formed that crazy tight sisterly bond that some girls do as teenagers. My parents were happy that I had a friend and her mom was happy that Candace was hanging with someone so academically ambitious. We got to have lots of sleepovers, of which we took full advantage, learning quickly how to make love as quietly as ninjas. We went to the movies, got jobs at the mall together, and I candy striped on the weekends while she spent her weekends singing in the church choir. We learned to drive that spring so that made things easier and we were both smart enough to keep up our grades. Occasionally, in school, I thought we got a few weird looks or I thought I heard somebody whispering. But we were very careful and went about our business, taking our PSATs and thinking about college.
