What A Person Wants

by Bell, Kris

  “But,” I began, knowing I sounded like a five-year-old trying to come up with excuses to stay up past bedtime, “I believe in my writing abilities. I just don’t have anything to write about.”

  “Just write what you know. How do you expect for your words to flow if you don’t even try?

  Well, she got me there.

  “Honey, you are my world and I love you. I want to see you happy and I know you’re the happiest when you have a pen in your hand and Richie on your side.”

  “Whoa! Okay, you’re taking a whole left turn here. What does Richie have to do with anything?”

  “Girl, are you that slow?” Mama asked in disbelief. Sensing her question was a trap, I didn’t respond. “You and Richie belong together. Why you haven’t told that man how you feel about him is beyond me.”

  “We’re just friends,” I repeated for the second time that night.

  “Yes, you are. That's apparent to anyone who sees you two together. But what I don't understand is why two friends who have feelings for each other can't be together? Where is it written that you can’t be both?”

  I sighed and crossed my arms over my chest. It’s funny how things work out. Here I am, rushing to the hospital because my mother’s been injured and she’s the one lecturing me about my life. I opted to tell her the truth that I never wanted to admit.

  “I’m not really in Richie’s league, Mama. He’s used to beautiful outspoken women. I’m just…me.”

  “And that, my dear, is why he likes you so much. I see how he looks at you. You’ve got a big chunk of that man’s heart. Don’t think for one minute that you’re not good enough for him because you’re good enough for any man worth his salt. Don’t end up like me, wasting time waiting for a Prince Charming to rescue you when you have a knight already in the wings.”

  RICHIE

  It took a little longer for me to get to the hospital than I thought. When I finally made it into the main lobby, I found Tara and Isabel walking from the small bank of elevators to the left of the hospital's quaint gift shop. I rushed over to them.

  “Richie?” Isabel asked. Her brow was frowned in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

  Tara smiled. “He called your phone while you were visiting your mother. I told him we were here.”

  “How is she? What happened?” Before I had arrived, I had called Tara again to see if she had heard about what had happened to Isabel’s mom. But I couldn’t get any information out of her because she couldn't talk. Apparently, the hospital was incredibly strict with the ‘no cell phone’ rule and she was accosted again by a couple of nurses who forced her to hang up.

  Isabel cast her eyes down before she replied. “She’ll be fine. She finally got fed up with Petey and his abuse. They had a really bad fight.”

  “Bad is an understatement,” Tara chimed in as we walked toward the exit. “Mama put a serious hurting on Petey. From what we hear, his injuries are much worse. He’s laid up in this place, too, damn near in traction.”

  My eyebrows shot up... “She beat him that bad?”

  Isabel nodded as she laughed. “Apparently so. He was down the hall from her. I poked my head in on the way out, but I couldn’t think of anything to say to him.”

  “I know what you could have said. ‘Prison bitch' because that’s exactly where he’s about to be once he heals and gets sent to jail for domestic abuse.”

  Isabel and I both laughed at Tara’s smartass remark.

  "Considering how your mom manhandled Petey, I'm surprised they're not taking her into custody as well."

  "You know, I said the same thing," Isabel replied. "For a minute, I was scared she would have to go to jail, but, thankfully, one of my mom's neighbors heard the whole commotion from the time Petey's new girl toy got thrown out of house to when Petey started smacking my mother around. She was nice enough to speak to the police on my mother's behalf. She was defending herself. She may have gotten a little carried away, but considering how big a prick Petey is, I can't say he didn't deserve every blow."

  "That's for damn sure," Tara said.

  We made our way out of the hospital and stood on the sidewalk. I desperately wanted to talk to Isabel, but I didn’t want to seem insensitive given she had just seen her mom laid up in a hospital.

  Tara must have understood my silence. “Izzy, I’m going to call it a night. We can pick up on the girl stuff tomorrow after you've gotten some rest.”

  Surprised, Isabel said, “You’re going home?”

  With her back turned as she walked away, Tara called back, “Yep! Richie can give you a ride home. Y’all need to talk anyway.”

  Izzy turned to me. “Well, I guess I’m stuck with you.”

  I grabbed Isabel’s hand and led her across the parking lot to my car. “Don’t sound so damn glum about it. Do you really not want to be around me?”

  Isabel took a deep breath. I glanced at her. Dressed in sweat pants and a tee shirt with tired eyes, she resembled a small child worn out by the day's events. I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled her into my arms and gave her a tight hug.

  I could have melted when I felt her arms creep around my back, squeezing me. I knew she could hear my heart thumping wildly because her head was cradled against my chest. I didn’t mind though. I relished the feeling of holding her.

  After what seemed like an eternity, I let her go.

  “What was that for?” Isabel asked me when I finally let her up for air.

  I shrugged as we resumed walking to my car. “You looked like you needed a hug and I felt like giving one.”

  We drove to her house in silence. I had so many things I wanted to tell her: “I love you.” “I miss you…” but I couldn’t bring myself to say a word beyond, “Do you want the radio on?”

  I stole furtive glances at her sitting quietly in my passenger seat, hands folded neatly in her lap. Apparently, she didn’t have much to say, either. That was fine, though. I didn’t expect her to say much given the way her evening had turned out.

  It didn’t take long to get to her apartment. I pulled up in front of her place and turned off my engine, yet neither of us made a move to get out of the car.

  “Isabel, are you going to be alright being home alone tonight?” I asked softly.

  She finally turned her big brown eyes to me. They were red and glassy, but no tears had fallen. She looked completely worn out.

  “I’ll be fine. I just need to head to bed and wait for the sun to come up.”

  “When is your mom going to come home?”

  “She’ll be released in the morning. Would you mind taking me to pick her up, say around eleven?”

  I nodded and said okay. Isabel still didn't make a move to get out of my car. It was clear we didn’t want to depart from each other’s company, but we didn’t really know what to say. I couldn't remember the last time I felt awkward in the presence of a woman. I was like a nervous teenager on his first date; I didn't know what to do next. Should I say "goodnight" or restart my engine? Should I hug her again and console her? Do I apologize for everything that happened the last time we saw each other? I was totally lost.

  Isabel bit her bottom lip and gave me a shifty look. It was time to man up. I took a deep breath and asked the question we were both avoiding.

  “Would you like me to come in?”

  She looked me dead in my eyes and whispered, “Yes.”

  We got out of the car and went into her apartment. From the looks of it, she and Tara were in the middle of some girly grooming activity. Clumps of cotton balls, nail polish, nail files and lotions cluttered her small end table next to her couch, while a couple of towels and wash basins filled with water were set on the floor in front of it.

  Isabel immediately began cleaning up the mess.

  “You don’t have to pick up right now,” I said. “Why not wait until the morning? It’s not going anywhere.”

  “Yeah, but I need something to do. I have a lot on my mind. It's best to keep busy.”

&nbs
p; I checked the time on my cell phone. It was past two a.m. “Isabel, it’s late. How busy do you need to be at this time of night?”

  I took a seat in the small love seat opposite the couch she was cleaning off. I had a nice view of her ass as she bent over to pick up the towels from the floor. I could feel my manhood twitch as I watched her, but I knew it was pointless to get my hopes up. At this point, I wasn’t even sure if Isabel was still mad at me or if she just needed a familiar face in her presence.

  When everything was put in its proper place, she took a seat on the couch, facing me. Once again, silence enveloped us as we found ourselves unable to initiate conversation. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally found my voice and spoke up. “So, now what? Are we friends again?”

  “We were never enemies,” Isabel answered, cocking her head to the side. “I was just mad at the world. I shouldn’t have been so bitchy to you.”

  “You had every right to be upset with me.”

  “Did I?” Isabel asked with a shrug of her shoulders. “You and I were never a couple. You were never mine to claim. What right did I have to get mad at you for hooking up with someone else?”

  I released a frustrated rush of breath and ran my fingers through my hair. “We didn’t hook up, Isabel. I told you. She was at the house hanging out and I got drunk. I didn’t sleep with her.”

  "It doesn't matter, anyway. I don't even think it was the fact that I thought I was interrupting you and another woman that bothered me. It was who the woman was."

  "What do you mean? You didn't like the fact that it was Chloe?"

  Isabel nodded with her eyes downcast. “I’m not going to lie, Richie. It hurt to see you kissing her.”

  “Why?”

  Isabel bit her bottom lip and flicked her eyes up at me. “It’s hard to watch someone you've grown close to continuously back pedal.”

  “Excuse me? Care to break that down for me?" I asked as I leaned forward.

  Isabel took a deep breath and replied, “You know Chloe is no good for you and yet you always run back to her.”

  I could feel a rush of heat hit my face as I became angry all over again. I couldn’t believe she thought I was still dealing with Chloe much less “running back to her.”

  “I don’t understand where this is coming from. How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not dealing with her? I don’t want her! There is nothing she can do for me that I wouldn’t have to pay for later. Do you really think that’s the type of relationship I want?”

  “Regardless of what you want, the fact of the matter is you won't get rid of her. She is the girlfriend from hell, but it doesn’t seem to bother you. As long as she continues to look the part, she'll always have a place in your heart. Or at least your pants.”

  I was so angry now. "'As long as she continues to look the part'!" Really? That's what you think?"

  "It's what I know," Isabel retorted, her own anger coming to the surface. "I'm not stupid, Richie! I have spent more than enough time around you to know what type of woman you like. Chloe is your perfect woman personified. No matter how badly she treats you, you'll never let that go."

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I knew Isabel hated Chloe with a passion. Most people do. But I never suspected her of thinking I still cared for my ex.

  “What do you want me to say, Isabel?” I asked, throwing my hands up in defeat. “You obviously have had this on your mind for a while, but what is it you want me to say? That I’m still in love with her? That I want to be with her? Because I don’t! After you left my house, I told her that I didn’t want to have anything to do with her, that I was done. I meant every single word. So what is it? What do you expect from me?”

  Isabel kept her gaze on me, but she kept shifting on the couch like she was trying to get comfortable. After a moment, she responded. “I just want you to admit to yourself and to me that she is the type of woman you want. How can I compete with that?”

  My heart was beating a strong thumping I could feel in my ears. So that was the point she was trying to make. She didn’t think she was good enough for me.

  At that moment, I wanted to leave my seat, leap over the coffee table in the center of the room, gather Isabel in my arms, and kiss the hell out of her. I stayed in my seat, though. As much as I wanted Isabel in my arms, I couldn’t help but think back to earlier in the evening when Rhys revealed what happened between the two of them the week prior.

  “How am I supposed to compete with Rhys?” I asked her, my voice void of emotion.

  Isabel’s eyes grew wide and she gave a slight gasp. If I didn't know any better, I'd guess I wasn't supposed to know about that particular incident. Isabel never did learn how to have a poker face; more often than not, reading her facial reactions was like reading her mind.

  “He told you?” she asked.

  “Yep. Rhys told me that he has feelings for you and that y’all have a history. You want to know how can you compete with Chloe? Well, I want to know how can I compete with Rhys? You kissed him. Where do I fit in with that? He is my best friend.” I sat on the edge of my seat, eager for an explanation.

  She stood up and approached me, infuriated. “Okay, first of all, I told him that it was too late for anything to happen between us. Second of all, he kissed me...”

  “But if I didn’t call and interrupt, would you still have left?”

  Isabel opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. She shook her head and shrugged.

  After struggling to think of an answer to my question, she finally said, “Do you have any idea what it’s like to love someone who doesn’t love you back? Well, that’s the story of my fucking life! I gave Kyle two years of my life thinking he was the one. That he was my Prince Charming! But no! He didn’t give two shits about how he treated me. I was just something to do.

  "Same thing with Rhys. When we first met, I fell head over heels in love with him, but he made me feel like I wasn't good enough. That I wasn’t his type. And now years later, after I've made my peace with that and we've developed a great friendship, he comes out of the blue and tells me I'm the one who got away? It’s a little too later for that. Just once, I would like for a man to tell me how he really feels up front and not waste my fucking time!”

  I got up slowly and took a step toward Isabel, closing the gap between us. Our faces were mere inches from each other. She didn’t pull back as I expected her to. Instead, she parted her pretty lips and sighed.

  “You want to know how I feel?”

  She nodded.

  “I love you.”

  I don’t know what broke in her, but after I said those words, Isabel leaned forward and kissed me.

  Her lips were soft against mine at first, but as soon as I grabbed her head and leaned forward more, her kiss deepened and became more aggressive. I groaned at the taste of her. So long had I wondered how she tasted, how soft her lips were. Now that I knew, I didn’t want it to end.

  She clutched the collar of my shirt and pulled me closer, deepening the kiss, but I wanted more. I pushed her back until she hit the couch. Her knees buckled and she fell back onto it with a gasp. I laid on top of her and resumed the kiss. The position was slightly awkward since her legs dangled over the edge of the couch; I had to keep a foot on the floor for balance, but I didn’t care. While her kisses were rough, her soft hands roamed over my back, firm, yet gentle. It didn’t take long for those hands to find their way under my shirt, her nails digging into the flesh of my back.

  I was in heaven! I moaned against her mouth before I moved onto her neck to lick and nibble on the sensitive skin there. I must have hit the right spot because she gasped and drew her legs tight around my waist.

  “Oh my god, Richie!” she breathed into my ear before taking my earlobe into her mouth.

  Her suckling and teasing was about to send me over the edge; I had to back off. It took every bit of energy I possessed to pull away from her and sit on the edge of the couch. I ran a shaky hand through my disheveled
hair as I looked down at her: lips slightly bruised, panting, tee shirt rumpled and pulled up high on her belly showing off her smooth caramel skin. I wanted to kiss that taunt stretch of skin, but I resisted. One more touch from her and I was likely to shoot off in my pants like an over-anxious teenager.

  She sat up slowly, eyes wide. “What’s wrong? Why’d you stop?”

  “I need a moment, honey, or else one of us is going to finish earlier than we’d like.”

  Isabel laughed long and hard. She sat up and moved closer so she could cuddle next to me. I leaned back and put my arm around her, relishing the feeling of her in my arms.

  Finally!

  After a moment of comfortable silence, I said, “Well, since the tension has been broken, I have no problem telling you that I have had my eye on you for a long time.”

  “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because you weren’t mine to have. You were one of Rhys’ closest friends and engaged to Kyle. What was I supposed to do? Potentially ruin a long-term friendship and break up a marriage before you even walked down the aisle?”

  Isabel looked at me. “I suppose not. I spent a lot of time pining away for someone who didn’t give a damn about me. But not anymore.”

  “Nope. Not anymore,” I co-signed.

  “But what about Chloe?”

  “Ugh, Isabel!” I exclaimed as I threw my head back and rolled my eyes. “I told you. There’s nothing-”

  “I know there’s nothing going on. I only said that because I was angry. What I mean is you viewed her as your ‘perfect’ woman and I am nothing like her.” She buried her head in my chest and played with the buttons on my shirt.

  “Isabel, I'm learning that not everything we want is what we need. I left a lot of loopholes open when I came up with the qualifications of my ideal woman. I got exactly what I asked for in Chloe. You, on the other hand, are everything I forgot to mention.” She looked up at me and smiled. I kissed her forehead.

  “That is such a bad romantic comedy cliché,” she said.

  “Yeah, I know,” I chucked. “But I meant every word.”

  We lay on the couch, holding each other. I couldn’t think of the last time I was this comfortable. Cradling Isabel to my chest while she dozed off was the last thing I expected to happen when I woke up this morning, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Rhys was right. I had spent so much time dwelling in the past that I was in danger of overlooking my future. Well, no more of that! I refuse to continue on as a weak man bested by his own horribly created monster. So long, Chloe the “perfect woman.” And hello, Isabel the love of my life. My friend.