by Tiana Laveen
“Three waters coming right up… this leftover pizza will do just fine for Bullet.”
She heard the distinct sounds of her annoying sibling removing foil from what she’d planned to be her dinner that evening, paired with a glass of wine. Minutes later, Bullet’s head was jerking about and bouncing up and down as he swallowed the cheesy slice in a single bound. She grimaced with disgust. Leonard made himself at home and turned on her television, stretching his long legs out and getting comfortable.
“Where the hell is Teresa? I sure wish my sister-in-law would come get her husband!”
“You love me ’round here!” He chuckled as he channel-surfed, the mutt by his side. “Anyway, I’m glad the doctor’s visit went well. I told you he was good.”
“He’s okay,” she lied, not willing to quite give credit where credit was due. Fact of the matter was, she was already feeling a bit better, but the fatigue and sleep deprivation still wouldn’t lift. That was another matter though; she hadn’t even brought that to the man’s attention in all fairness. She fell into a daydream, debating on whether she was going to attempt to work out in her home that evening or just take her ass to bed. Suddenly, her phone rang. She reached for it, then paused as she recognized the number. Her chest rose and fell faster while she worked on tampering down her anxiety…
Minutes later, her phone flashed, indicating she had a voicemail. She reached for it from off a nearby table, not certain if she should even play it back. Glancing over at her brother in the other room, all she could see was his profile as he burst out in fits of laughter at something he was watching on the television. She turned away, put the phone up to her ear and listened to the message…
“Hey, Sahara, It’s Damien. I still have some of my things there so I wanted to stop by, you know, and get them. You said a couple of months ago over text that I could, but then you never followed through. Anyway, I hope you’re doing all right… haven’t talked to you in a minute. Uh, let’s see, well, to be honest, I’m getting concerned because I’ve asked you several times to call me so I can get my stuff. If you don’t want to be home when I get the trophies, sneakers, and all of that—that’s fine, just leave them outside the door since you changed the locks. I mean, come on, baby. It’s been over two years… I had a bunch of things that meant a lot to me. I guess you’re trying to pay me back, make me suffer. Who knows? We’ve both moved on though so, uh, let’s not get the law or anything involved… try to handle this like adults. I heard you and Heston broke up. Sorry about that. Anyway, call me.”
She ended the playback and placed the phone back on the table. Moments later, she looked back in the direction of her brother. This time, however, he was looking right at her as he rubbed Bullet’s head.
“It was that corny ass mothafucker again, wasn’t it? Calling you and shit. I told that nigga not to call you no more and that’s what I meant!”
“Leonard, please don’t start…” She rolled her eyes and fell back onto the seat. Stretching her toes, she yawned. “He said he wants his stuff. To be honest, I don’t even know where the hell that shit is anymore. I had packed it up, but I’m sure it’s around here somewhere… He wants his trophies; a couple of them were over here. Why, I really don’t know.”
“Because he wanted to show off and it was a way for him to mark his territory. He wanted to make sure no other mothafuckas talked to you, but he was free to date the entire state of California. I warned him that if he played you, I was gonna play his ass like the lame that he is, fuckin’ simp! I shoulda beat his ass when I had the chance!”
Sahara sighed and rubbed her forehead. Her brother and ex-boyfriend had gotten into it so much, it always used to give her a headache. Now, she and Damien had been over for quite some time but Leonard’s blood pressure would shoot sky high just from the mention of the bastard’s name.
“I’d like to stick that All-Star Game MVP up his ass! That one White chick said he liked that kinda thing… oh, fruity pebbles with rainbow sprinkles ‘Heeeey, baby’ Flintstone Wilma and Bam-Bam son of uh bitch!”
“Here you go. Not today, okay?! Leonard, I told you I don’t like that kind of talk. It’s an ugly thing to say, it’s homophobic and that doesn’t even apply in this case. He’s not gay, he’s just an asshole so just stop it.”
“You’ve got me fucked up. I’m not homophobic and you know it!” he screamed, twisting about in the chair and facing her full on. “My boy Greg is gay as a goddamn pink cupcake with rainbow icing, point blank period, and you don’t hear me talkin’ shit about him, now do you?” The man had a point… Everyone knew Gregory was gay since they were in high school. Her brother had never said anything derogatory about the man, at least not in her presence. “Greg will kick any man’s ass. I ain’t said nothing about him, not even once! He owns it, so I respect that. Shit, if you like it, I love it. What I can’t stand are these lying sons of bitches, Sahara. That’s what I’m talking about. If you like dick, say you like dick! What straight man you know wants his ass sucked ’nd fucked, though?! That woman on Media Take Out said she fucked him in the ass wit’ a black rubber dildo… said he wanted it to go in deep, too. You can’t get no gayer than that, Sahara. These guys out here playin’ games, think this bisexual shit is cute! You’re either gay or straight, period. There’s no such thing as bisexual. Well, for women there is but not for men.”
“You say some of the most ignorant mess I have ever heard.”
“I’ll be that, but all I am saying is that if you gay, be gay, but leave my sister out of it!”
“Leonard, please stop… the man isn’t even here, and you are acting like he is banging down the door. And as if MediaTakeOut.com is a credible source!” She rolled her eyes. “He’s not gay… trust me. All of the cheating with a million different women proved that.” She grimaced.
“Well, I tell you this much—he made me hate the San Diego Padres. I wish he’d take his plowed out, dick-in-the-ass back to Texas! Shit, he’s done now… go on back home!”
Damien was a center fielder for the major league baseball team. He’d recently retired, but was still regarded as a big shot.
Soon silence was regained as she found herself lying on that chaise, lost in thought until she’d fallen asleep. When she woke up several hours later, a blanket was placed over her body and a bowl of fruit was laid out on the table. She looked over where Leonard had been sitting. He was gone. The television was off and Bullet was absent. Leonard had tucked her in and fed her. Just like he used to do when they were kids…
Things had been rather uneventful.
Vangelis finished his second exam of Sahara, and she sat now fully clothed, holding onto a clear small shopping bag full of supplements. He leaned against the counter in the small room, crossed his arms and ankles, and smiled at her. How was he going to tell her that he’d thought about her ever since he’d met her? That she was one of the prettiest women he’d ever laid eyes on? He loved their conversations. They seemed to piggy back on each other’s thoughts, and even their sense of humor matched. He figured she was seeing someone, though. There was no way a woman like her would be single. Impossible…
“So, do you have any other questions?” he asked.
She gave him a slight smile and looked out of the window for a brief moment.
“Actually, I do.”
“Shoot.”
“I was thinking about planning a vacation. I want to go away. It’s been a while. I know I’m in treatment, but would that be okay?”
“I don’t see why not. Just out of curiosity, where were you thinking about going?”
“I’m not really sure.” She shrugged. “Somewhere pretty… relaxing. Some place where I can clear my mind and just unwind.”
“That sounds perfect. I’m certain your significant other will ensure you don’t go too far with any physical exertion.” He turned his back to her, not wanting to make eye contact as he waited impatiently for her response. He was met with a chuckle as he turned on the faucet to wash his hands. H
e hesitated on plunging them under the rushing water… it would erase her sweet, delicate scent.
“Going solo… I’m not with anyone right now. I got out of a relationship about seven months ago. That has definitely kept my stress level down,” she joked.
He turned back in her direction, dried off his hands, and resumed his previous position.
“Well, sometimes our friendships and relationships in general can actually aid in lessening our stress. It just depends on who it is.” He tossed up his hands.
She threw him an inquisitive look. Perhaps she was reading between the lines.
“Does your relationship keep your stress level down?”
That question startled him. “I, uh, well, when I was in one it did… in some ways. I’m not married or seeing anyone right now, either. Okay, anyway…” He clasped his hands together. “Let’s arrange another—”
“Do you want to be in one?” She cocked her head to the side and smiled. “I mean, let’s be honest. You’re very attractive. You’re smart, you’re easy to speak with. Bachelors like you aren’t common, at least not in San Diego. I’m actually shocked that you’re single, so it just struck my curiosity, as you could say.”
This isn’t appropriate. She’s not supposed to be asking me these things. I’m the doctor, she’s the patient. Well, she’s a doctor too, but in this case, she’s my patient!
“I, uh, I’m not sure what this really has to do with—”
“Obviously I’ve overstepped my boundaries by delving into your private life. It’s just small talk.” She shrugged as she casually reached for her purse. “My apologies. As you were saying?” She hopped down off the table. “The appointment you wanted to schedule?”
Tongue-tied, he stood speechless, his brain scrambling. He stepped closer to her, stood before her, and simply stared as he gathered his thoughts, trying to figure out how to form his next sentence. In a battle between honesty and professionalism, which side would win?
“Do you want to go out?” Her eyes grew large. “For dinner? Maybe lunch if you prefer?”
She grinned. “You’re asking your patient out on a date? Tsk, tsk, Dr. Alexopoulos,” she teased, causing him to smile.
“I know. It’s unorthodox, unlike my religion.” At this, she burst out laughing.
“I love your sense of humor… and yes, I would love to have dinner with you.”
“Okay, great. I’ll, uh, I’ll call you later on today and we can arrange it, okay? Maybe over the weekend when we both have a bit more free time?”
She walked to the door. “Sounds good to me.”
“Go out to the front desk and they’ll schedule the next appointment for you, okay?”
“Okay. Talk to you soon, oh, and please thank your mother for the baklava. It was delicious!”
She waved and exited, leaving him standing there. Reaching for his tablet with both hands, he stared into space. He had no idea how much time passed—could’ve been five seconds, perhaps five minutes, but in that timeframe, she consumed his thoughts. He’d done the unthinkable, but everything in his body dared him to try and prove it wrong…
CHAPTER FIVE
Roses Every Sunday for a Woman Just Like You…
…Two days later
Dressed in a lightweight navy-blue windbreaker, Vangelis worked in his meticulously kept front lawn, pulling out some bad weeds. He had keepers for his estate—his schedule certainly didn’t make time for such tasks—but there was still the never-ending issue with the damn weeds. He snatched them hard, twisting and turning them in a tight grip and probably yanking them by the roots. The mindless job was almost therapeutic, like removing a nasty, cancerous tumor with his bare hands.
It was particularly quiet, but he attributed that to being off on a weekday. He’d taken the time to tend to some chores, things that were getting out of control due to his rigorous work schedule. He’d been up since 5:30 A.M. It was now 2:45 P.M. and in that time he’d managed to do four loads of laundry, clean his kitchen from top to bottom, make several important phone calls, and visit his mother, subjecting himself to an hour-long session of trivial gossip. After that, he washed and had his black BMW detailed, his white VW Beetle vacuumed out, caught up on the latest episode of, ‘The Good Doctor’ on DVR, and organized his pantry alphabetically while listening to The Rolling Stones’ Greatest Hits.
He was rather enjoying the nice breeze and the sound of the cars occasionally going by, and immersed himself so much into what he was doing, tossing the nasty things into a large, black lawn bag, that it took him a while to notice that Chi Wang, the twelve year old Chinese boy from next door had gotten off the bus and was now standing in his yard, looking at him intently.
“Oh, hi Chi…” He waved at the kid who was decked in a bright yellow hoodie, his sneakers covered in dirt and his long black hair bursting from beneath it like spiky pieces of black ice. “I didn’t see ya there.” He offered a half grin as he shoved another handful of weeds into the bag before dropping it once again on the lawn.
“What are you doing?” the boy questioned, pointing at him.
“Pulling weeds.” At that, the kid began to snicker and laugh, his pale cheeks turning instantly rosy.
“You said, ‘pulling weeds,’” he blurted out, laughing harder.
“Uh, yeah.” Not sure what was so damn funny, he turned away and continued on with his task. Chi Wang’s parents were both physicians as well, but they travelled and did missionary work. He remained in the home usually with his elderly grandfather, who spent most of his time cooking, reading, and not knowing where his grandson was for the majority of the day.
“What are you doing home? You’re never here at this time,” the boy asked.
“Took some time off.” He fell to his knees, searching for any more weeds that may have escaped his careful eye.
“I gotta girlfriend now.”
“Do ya, huh?” Vangelis grinned as he spotted a little white clover. Yanking it hard, he silently claimed another victory.
“Her name is Isabella. She’s gotta fat ass.” Vangelis slowly turned towards Chi and shook his head. “She does! She is really nice looking, too. Not like those girls that just have a nice body but only a face a mother could love. She’s the total package, ya know?”
“Yeah… that’s essential.” Vangelis stifled a laugh.
“Are you gay?”
He turned quickly in the boy’s direction, totally taken aback by such a question.
“What in the world would make you ask me that?” What a silly question… Chi always said inappropriate things… why should today be any different?
“’Cause you never have any girls over here anymore. I see guys working around your house sometimes… and they’re shirtless.”
“That’s lawn care, Chi… doesn’t mean we’re dating.” He chuckled.
“You had a nice lookin’ lady over here a long time ago… the one with the big tits and long black hair. I heard you two fucking one time. Your bedroom window was open. You must’ve really been giving it to her… boy was she loud.”
“Then why did you ask if I was gay, Chi? Gay men don’t typically make love to women, and quite frankly, this conversation is really inappropriate and I don’t think that—”
“Maybe she was just your beard… you know, a chick gay guys use to pretend like they’re straight.”
What the hell does this fucking kid know about a beard?!
“Was she Greek, too?” He looked at Chi and convinced himself to bite his tongue. After all, Chi was only a child, and telling him to ‘Fuck off’ would be totally unsuitable. Or would it? He smirked at the notion, liking how it played out in his mind…
“No, she was not my beard and yes, she was Greek. Go on in the house. I’m sure your grandfather is waiting for you. If not, it can be arranged.” He abruptly turned away, in no mood to continue down such a path of discussion.
“My grandfather?” Chi burst out laughing and drew closer. “He’s in there asleep. I could be dea
d for three days and he’d never know. All he does is sleep and eat and yell. Can I come inside?”
Here we go with this shit again…
“I think you should probably go home, Chi, and do your homework. Maybe another time, okay?”
“Please?! I love looking at your glass globes.”
It was true. Vangelis had a library filled with rare books and a tall, gold curio cabinet containing various glass globes from around the world, many of which he’d won at various auctions. He wasn’t much of a collector. Collecting meant more dust to clean, and clutter was unbecoming. But, since childhood, he’d always been drawn to snow globes, real globes, and any type of globe. As time wore on, he found a special affinity for clear world globes. They were his guilty pleasure, things of utter beauty. He had them in various sizes; some glowed with internal lights, some spun on an axis, some played music, while others were so fragile, they sat in two protective cases. A few had gold bases. One was made of diamonds and had cost him a pretty penny, but it had been oh so worth it.
“Help me pull these weeds and I’ll let you see the globes.”
On a huff, the boy wandered over, reluctantly agreeing to the terms. Twenty minutes later, the chore was complete and in they went, charging forward.
“Ah, ah, ah, Chi, take off your shoes and wash your hands first.” The boy spun on his heels and pulled his sneakers off, setting them on the front door mat. He then made his way to the first floor half bath, closing the door behind him. As Chi cleaned his grubby hands, Vangelis made haste to his kitchen. He washed his hands in the sink in hot water and plenty of soap, dried them, then removed two bottles of frosty root beer from the refrigerator. After opening them, he set them on the counter. Next, he grabbed a half-eaten bag of gourmet three cheese popcorn from the pantry, filled a large, wooden bowl with it, and waited for Chi to make his appearance.
“Here you go.” He handed the boy the drink and watched him scarf it down like he hadn’t had a drop of liquid in days. Then, he tore into the bowl of popcorn—no kernel was safe. Moments after that, they ventured into his large study, the land of books and globes.
