Without another word, she slammed her door.
“You’re back to form,” Quen said, a hand on my arm, leading me into the apartment.
The moment we entered music came on.
“Surprise!”
The place was alive with people crawling out of the places they were hiding. There was Sheena, Jen, Tre and some of my girls from the office. There was Dickie, Manny, Chet Rabinowitz and Harley. Ida Rosenstein with an unlit cigarette dangling from the side of her mouth, Luis Gomez, the weasel, and even Ian had come.
Quen set down my suitcase by the door. I was embraced, squeezed, kissed and patted before finally being led to a seat. I accepted balloons and flowers. Jen gave me a beautiful silver necklace with matching earrings and handed me an envelope that I tucked into the side of my chair for safekeeping.
Someone had gone all out with the catering. There was shrimp, clams, mussels and salads of every kind. People began eating and drinking. In less than an hour they were gone.
“Let’s get you to bed,” Quen said, the minute the last guest had disappeared.
“Not quite yet. I want to sit on the balcony and look out at the view. I want to see the palm trees swaying and I want to smell the salt from the ocean.” I was in a strange mood. The hospital had left me claustrophobic and valuing things I’d never thought much about.
I’d spent too many days lying flat on my back. Now what I wanted most was fresh air and to look out on the ocean.
“How about I get you something to eat or drink, sugar? There’s plenty inside, except for ice tea you haven’t touched anything.”
“I’m not hungry.”
I’d had breakfast before being discharged from the hospital and I was full and happy just to be with Quen. The dizzy spells were a thing of the past but I still felt drained.
Quen led me through the sliding glass doors and onto the balcony. He sat right next to me.
“We need to talk,” he said.
Uh-oh. When a man said that to a woman it wasn’t good. I braced myself and prepared for anything. “Sounds serious,” I joked.
“It is serious. I feel responsible for you going into the hospital. I should have been more involved and been monitoring you every step of the way.”
“I’m not a child.”
Quen gave me a hard look. “That’s obvious to me, hon. You’re one gorgeous woman and therein lies the problem. If I hadn’t pushed you so hard you wouldn’t have gone overboard.”
I wouldn’t have Quen beat himself up like that. None of this was his fault.
“You weren’t pushing me,” I said. “You didn’t open my mouth and force me to take diet pills. You encouraged me to eat healthy and in proper portions. And you went out of your way to prepare balanced meals. I’m the one who screwed everything up.”
I started crying and couldn’t stop. My blood sugar must be low and my hormones out of whack.
“Sugar,” Quen said, sounding like he wanted to cry himself. He hugged me to him. “I’ve done a lot of soul-searching and truthfully I think I did you a disservice. I should have had one of my employees work with you. You reminded me too much of my sister. Your smile, your personality…the whole bit. I couldn’t get beyond that.”
“My size was what did it,” I said, struggling to joke.
“Maybe your size, too,” Quen admitted. “I was attracted to you but my emotional baggage held me back. And when you fainted, it was like déjà vu all over again. Your stint in the hospital gave me time to think about a lot of things.”
“Like what?” I asked, daring to hope that he was finally seeing me as a woman, and not just the buddy that provided additional benefits.
“Like I like you too much. Like I’m no longer in love with my ex-wife and ready to move on.” Quen stood and stretched. “Look, we should be having this conversation on the boardwalk with a full moon overhead, not when you’re still recuperating. I’m going to knock on Jen and Tre’s door and have her get you settled in.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “I’ll call you later to see how you’re doing.”
Then he left.
Chapter 19
The doorbell rang as I was thinking about dinner. People had been checking on me all day. I was grateful that so many cared but enough was enough. I was all talked out and now I needed my space.
Manny had flowers delivered and Dickie Dyson sent over a driver to find out if I needed anything. The whole town must be talking about how I almost died, a slight exaggeration of course. Some poster child for health and exercise I’d turned out to be.
I let the answering machine pick up the last several calls and shut off my cell phone. I was so tired by then I couldn’t think much less cope with people. Now I had an unwanted visitor
I stumbled to the door and put an eye to the peephole. The figure on the other side was blurry and out of focus.
“Who is it?” I called, hoping it was a delivery person and I could tell them to set whatever it was in front of the door.
“Quen.”
At the sound of his voice my entire body buzzed and unmentionable places began to pulse. Why was he back?
I opened the door and he held a shopping bag out to me. In his other hand there was a duffle; the kind people carried with a change of clothing when they were going to work out. We stood staring at each other.
“Come in,” I finally said, moving aside. “What’s in the shopping bag?”
“Our dinner.” He gave me a hug and a moist kiss on the tip of my ear. Then he headed for the kitchen.
He was being so thoughtful, had always been that way. I could hear him unpacking the covered dishes and laying them out on the counter. The contents smelled delicious. I followed the smells to the kitchen. I must be getting my appetite back, now I just had to remember to eat in moderation.
Quen handed me a glass of something white and frothy.
“You’re giving me a milk shake?”
“No, it’s a protein drink.”
I took a sip and pronounced it delicious.
“Where would you like to eat?” Quen asked.
It sounded to me like he was planning on staying.
“I was thinking of going to bed,” I admitted.
“Then I’ll bring in a tray.”
I could get used to this treatment; Quen waiting on me hand and foot.
Before taking off I asked, “What’s in the duffle bag?”
“Stuff.”
“What do you need stuff for?”
“I’m spending the night.”
My mouth hung open catching flies.
Quen pressed my lower jaw closed. “You did say something about going to bed? Get to it, woman.”
I just knew he wasn’t expecting sex from a woman who’d been recently discharged from the hospital. But I loved the idea of him bringing me dinner on a tray.
I took the protein drink with me, washed my face, brushed my teeth and climbed into bed. The linens were crisp and clean; Jen’s doing. I picked up a magazine from the side of the bed and began flipping through it. There were pictures of Vivica Fox, Halle Berry, Regina King and others on there way up. Women I’d hoped to look like. There was also a photo of Queen Latifah, confident, smiling and beautiful in her bigness. People loved her because she was real. Now there was a woman whose size hadn’t hurt her much. It was something to consider.
I was thinking about Queen Latifah when Quen came in balancing a tray in one hand, a dish towel was draped over the other.
“Dinner is now served, madam,” he said in a solemn voice.
He whipped off the linen covering the tray and tucked it in my neckline like a bib. On the tray was a vase with a solitary rosebud. I dug into the bowl of soup that smelled delicious and bit into the crusty roll then I uncovered the dish with the main meal. That’s how starved I was.
Quen took over spooning soup in my mouth. Every time I opened up to complain the spoon shut me up.
“Good, huh,” he said.
I nodded.
The uncovere
d dish held a scoop of white rice, a chicken breast and broccoli; real food not hospital food. I ate as much as I could but my stomach had shrunk to almost nothing.
“I’ve got fruit for dessert,” Quen offered.
“Can’t eat another thing.”
“You need to rest, sugar. I’ll get rid of this stuff and check on you in a minute.”
He collected the tray and took it to the kitchen and was back in minutes to draw the drapes.
“Is it cool enough for you?” he asked, fiddling with the air-conditioning knobs.
“I like it real cool. Where are you sleeping?” I asked drowsily.
“On the sofa.”
I was half asleep but not stupid. “Hell, no. You’re sleeping right here with me,” I said, yawning.
“Not such a good idea, sugar. Too tempting.”
I ignored him and pretended to snore.
Quen laughed and climbed into bed beside me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer. My butt was pressed right against his rock-hard stomach.
“Sweet dreams, babe,” he said.
When he kissed the nape of my neck and blew softly against my skin, I relaxed. I snuggled against him feeling safe and protected. It was an unusual feeling for me. I didn’t do safe easily and protected was an entirely new experience for me.
I must have fallen asleep because when I awoke there was total darkness. I needed to use the bathroom. I slid out from under Quen’s arm.
He rolled over muttering something that sounded like, “Joya.”
Now I was wide awake and alert. When he said nothing more I was convinced I’d misheard. I looked at my watch. It was going on nine. Quen must be missing work. I needed to wake him up.
I placed a hand on his bare shoulder and shook. His skin felt warm to the touch. He’d shed his shirt during the night and it lay on the wooden floor. I picked it up and shook out the wrinkles.
“Quen you need to get up,” I whispered close to his ear.
He snorted and rolled onto his back. I poked his ribs with my index finger.
“Get up. It’s late.”
One eye squinted open. “What?”
I tapped the face of his watch. “It’s going on nine.”
He yawned. “So? Come back to bed. I took a couple of days off to be with you.”
Another new experience. No one had ever taken time off for me.
“I’ll make us coffee,” I said, backing out of the room.
“No you won’t. Coffee making is my job.”
Quen bounded out of bed. He stood before me in his briefs, dark, toned and handsome. My mouth watered just looking at him. He opened the drapes and the bright rays of morning sunshine played across the wooden floors.
“Go clean up and we’ll decide where to eat,” he said.
Fine by me. I’d loved eating but I’d never been much of a cook.
By the time I’d showered and changed clothes, the meal was already prepared and a delicious aroma filled my nostrils.
“Outside or in?” Quen asked when I stood at the kitchen counter.
“Out.”
It promised to be another beautiful Florida day and I didn’t want to miss one moment of it. As I wandered outside, I remembered Jen’s card and her insistence that I read it. I found the card where I’d left it tucked into the chair cushion and gave it a glance.
“Oh, my God!”
“Problem, sugar?”
“Hell, no. Reason to celebrate. Jen’s going to let me write the column by myself one day a week, and she’s giving me a raise and credit.”
“Congratulations! Now go.”
Quen shooed me outside and followed shortly with a tray. He sat it down on a small bistro table and made sure my napkin was in my lap. I sipped on orange juice, ate cereal and nibbled on a boiled egg and unbuttered toast. I was so happy and felt like I would burst.
“Can we walk this off,” I suggested, energized and rearing to go.
Quen looked at me sideways. “Sure you’re up to it, sugar? Give yourself a day or two to regain your strength and then we’ll walk.”
“I’m up to it. I’ve been cooped up inside a smelly hospital for days. I need exercise.”
“Okay,” he relented. “We’ll take it slow, just up the boardwalk a bit, and I’ll be holding on to you.”
Quen was starting to get on my last nerve. I didn’t like being treated like an invalid. On the other hand, it was a good excuse to get up close and personal with him. So I’d milk it for all it was worth.
We managed to get a few feet up the boardwalk before the first person stopped us.
“I heard you were in the hospital,” a woman I barely knew said. “It’s nice to have a big strong man take care of you.” She gave Quen a wink.
I smiled and nodded and held on more tightly to Quen’s arm. “Told you people in this town are nosy,” I said.
Now who comes sailing by on a bicycle but Joya herself. The basket swinging off her handlebars held fresh produce. She slowed down when she saw us and gave us a shaky smile. I wanted to see how Quen was going to handle this.
“Hi,” he said just as if she was a next door neighbor. “How come you’re out this early? You never used to be an early bird.”
Joya pointed to the basket filled with plump red tomatoes, heads of lettuce and collard greens.
“It’s been years since I’ve been to the Green Market. I wanted to get there early so that I could have my pick. What are you two up to?”
She didn’t sound as if it bothered her to see us together.
“Taking a walk,” I said. “Let’s go as far as the market, Quen?”
“Whatever you want, sugar.” He placed an arm around my shoulders and kissed my cheek, steering me away. “See you around, Joya.”
Quen had just publicly acknowledged that we were more than friends, but I wanted to hear the magic words, needed to hear them. I needed to know where I stood with him. We’d been dancing around the issue of us for far too long. I’d give it a few minutes then I’d bring it up.
Hand in hand, we wandered through the Green Market. I watched an artist paint the little tents the vendors sold their wares under. Then I bought freshly squeezed juice and shared it with Quen, and we both bought a melon and tangerines. When I stopped to admire a plant, Quen bought the potted hibiscus for me.
“It’ll be perfect on the balcony,” he said.
Which reminded me it wasn’t my balcony and I had stuff in storage I was paying a fortune for. Generous as Jen was, I needed to do something about finding a place to live. Hopefully, the old lady Ida knew was still interested in a rental with option to buy. The last she’d proposed was applying a portion of my rent to offset some of the down payment.
As we started back I decided it was now or never. I took a deep breath.
“Let’s sit for a minute.” I pointed to a bench on the boardwalk overlooking the ocean.
“How inconsiderate of me not to notice you were getting tired,” Quen said.
I wasn’t to the point I needed to sit down, but I let him think that. I uncapped the bottle of juice that I was holding, took a sip and offered it to him. Quen took a slug.
Then working up the courage, I said, “Look I’m not sure what’s really going on here.”
“By that you mean?” I could tell he was uncomfortable.
“I’m not sure what we have. It’s like you run hot and cold. Where do you want to go with this?”
There I’d said it. I was done tiptoeing around the issue. When I was lying flat on my back in the hospital I realized that I wasn’t getting any younger. I wanted a man and a family, and I didn’t want to invest any more time in a friendship that wasn’t going to move forward. I was doing this for me, to preserve my heart. I’d already prepared myself to be kicked to the curb.
Quen took a long time answering. The silence made me wish I’d brought the inhaler I hadn’t used in weeks.
“Initially I didn’t know where I wanted to go with this,” he said honestly.
“There are so many things I always liked about you. You’re fresh, open, honest and make me laugh. Best of all you don’t put on airs.”
What about finding me attractive? I was attractive. I’d finally found my comfort zone. My personality and sense of humor were two major assets. Somewhere down deep I would always want to be thinner, taller, cuter, but what was really important was I liked me. I now knew I had a lot to give to the right person.
“What I’d like,” Quen said, “Is for me and you to really get to know each other, go out a few times, spend time talking, that kind of thing.”
“You mean date?” I asked and held my breath.
“Yes, date.”
“As in we are free to see other people?”
He looked like I had sucker punched him. I tried to hide my smile.
“Date others if you feel you have to,” he said.
He wasn’t going to commit. Now I knew what I had to do. Much as I cared about the man I wasn’t about to sit around waiting forever. I wanted a relationship and I wanted babies. I wasn’t exactly Skinny Minnie but I’d shed enough weight that men previously out of my league might find me attractive. I was doing okay as a Realtor and I had a lot going for me.
Chere Adams was now going to put herself back on the market. And if Quen Abrahams knew what was good for him he’d get busy. Because I planned on being plenty busy every chance I got.
I was going to work every damn asset I had.
Chapter 20
I decided to give Dickie Dyson another try. When I went in to pay my car payment, I made sure I was wearing an outfit that had Dickie drooling all over himself. It showed enough cleavage to make your eyes pop. And Dickie bit, he asked me out, and I said “yes.”
We drove to a nearby town to watch the car races. We sat in the stands watching the Nascar guys, hollering and cheering like fools. Dickie was making a big fool out of himself, jumping up and down and cursing at a driver who didn’t seem to have a prayer of even placing. It was all in good fun.
In the two weeks since I’d had the talk with Quen I’d gone out on four dates. None of these men were actually ringing my chimes, but I was getting out and feeling good about myself. And that’s what mattered.
All About Me Page 17
