The Complication

by Nia Arthurs

  “I can’t wait to tell Shawn,” Portia said. Then she caught Jane’s look and amended. “After you tell Shane, of course.”

  I smacked my fists against the table. “You two are so damn lucky.”

  “Uh, thanks?” Jane smirked.

  I poked my finger in her face to emphasize the point. “Seriously? Do you know how rare that is? To find someone who’ll, not only commit to you, but that you want to commit to?”

  “Are you drunk already?” Portia cocked her head to the side and surveyed my glass, swishing the amber liquid. “You only had one beer.”

  I pointed across the table. “Jane’s having a baby with the love of her life and you and Shawn are sucking face in every corner of that hospital...”

  “Hey!”

  “You’re both so in love. It makes me sick.” I gagged.

  “We’re not the only ones who won the romance lottery. Must I remind you that Amir worships the ground you walk on?”

  “Of course he does.” I took a sip of my beer. “Anything less and I wouldn’t have given him the time of day.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I don’t know!” I sulked.

  Jane chuckled. “If you’re feeling this torn up about the wedding, why don’t you tell Amir that you need a bit more time?”

  “I tried that.”

  “Try again. Go talk to him. Without the mothers intervening this time. Explain what you’re feeling.”

  I stared glumly at my glass. “I know I should. That’s the responsible thing to do, right? But… I don’t want to hurt him.”

  “You can’t ignore a problem hoping it will go away,” Jane said. “That’s not healthy.”

  Portia nodded. “I agree. You need to talk to him so you can work through whatever issues you have.”

  “What if I don’t want to work through it?” I whispered hoarsely.

  The table went silent.

  Portia dropped her cup on the table with a hard clunk. “Don’t talk like that.”

  “It’s true.”

  “You can’t let Elliot get to you.” Her eyebrows slanted into a V. “This is bigger than just you, Imani. Guests are flying in from the States. Investing in plane tickets, hair, makeup, buying dresses. His family, his co-workers and his friends know about this wedding. Can you imagine how destroyed Amir would be if you backed out now? At this late in the game?”

  “I know.”

  “You have an obligation—”

  “I said I know!” I shrieked.

  Portia bit down on her lip and glared at me.

  Jane glanced between the two of us, shifting in discomfort. “I think what Portia’s trying to say is… don’t rush. We don’t want you to make a decision you’ll regret. What if you throw it all away for this Elliot guy and he doesn’t feel the same way?”

  “That’s the thing.” I ducked my head and watched the ring lines of condensation my glass made on the surface of the wooden table. “I think Elliot might be into me now.”

  Portia scrambled up, dark eyes filled with intrigue. “Did he say that?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “Of course he didn’t.” Portia sighed. “Can’t you see? Back then and now, you’re always the one chasing him.”

  “That’s not true,” I whined.

  “Oh yeah? Name one time he tried to get with you.”

  I grabbed my beer instead of answering.

  “See?” Portia folded her arms over her chest and smiled smugly. “You can’t answer because you know I’m right.”

  I glared at her.

  Jane patted my hand. “Elliot or Amir. It’s your decision. You’re the one who has to decide if Elliot is worth losing it all. And you’re the one who has to live with Amir for the rest of your life if you go through with this.”

  “Or I could just go through with the wedding and get divorced.” I shrugged.

  Jane’s expression tightened. “Getting a divorce isn’t that easy. If you think it’s complicated now, before you’re even married, imagine how much messier it gets when feelings and lives are involved after the fact. It’s better to be sure before you get up there and pledge your life to him, than to wake up later and realize you made a mistake.”

  “How can marrying someone who loves her like crazy be a mistake?” Portia argued.

  “Because marrying someone out of obligation isn’t love.”

  Portia scowled. “She loves him. It’s not just obligation. Right, Imani?”

  “I—”

  “See?”

  “You didn’t even give her a chance to respond!” Jane yelled.

  “Guys, enough.” I motioned to the waitress for another round. “You’re not helping.”

  My friends settled down, but the atmosphere had soured. It was clear that Portia wasn’t taking Jane’s ‘follow your heart’ advice well.

  And I got it. The heart had a habit of flitting from flower to flower like a honeybee on the prowl.

  Portia wanted the best for me. And ‘the best’ was with a man who’d shown me time and time again that I could rely on him.

  That should be enough.

  Man, why wasn’t that enough?

  A few hours later, the girls called the taxi for me. Except they didn’t join me inside. Why? Shawn and Shane were picking them up.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to call Amir?” Portia asked with a worried frown. Or what I thought was a worried frown. I was tipsy as hell so everything was kind of spinning.

  “No.”

  “Text me as soon as you get home,” Jane said. She leaned into the car to whisper, “I’ve already taken a picture of the taxi’s license plate. If you don’t contact me, I’m calling the cops.”

  I giggled. “You’re pretty.”

  Her lips twitched. “Get a good night’s sleep, Imani.”

  I took her advice and started napping right then and there. The next thing I knew, someone was yelling, “Miss! Miss!”

  I opened my eyes and saw the taxi driver pointing to my apartment. “You’re home.”

  “Did I pay you?” I slurred.

  “Yes.” He sounded irritated. Geez, what a guy.

  “Thank you.” I slid out of the car and staggered up to my apartment. It took several minutes before I could get the key into the lock, but I finally did and plodded inside.

  The quiet was terrifyingly loud.

  I poured myself some water and stared at the darkness, the empty space. Because I’d taken that nap, I was wide-awake now. Maybe I should watch some TV.

  Slinking to the sofa, I turned on the television, but nothing kept my attention. Talk. I wanted to talk to someone.

  Not just anyone.

  Elliot.

  But that would be a bad idea. Amir had given me an out. He’d smashed the connection between Elliot and me. My only job now was to stay away. As long as I didn’t tamper with the glass shards, I wouldn’t get pricked.

  I wouldn’t get hurt.

  My fingers rolled over the sofa until they landed on my cell phone. I picked up and scrolled to Elliot’s number. Staring at the parade of digits, I let my thumb hover over the bar.

  In a second, I was pressing down and plastering the phone to my ear. Just one more time. Just one more conversation.

  He probably wouldn’t pick up anyway.

  Chapter 17

  Elliot

  A chirping sound disturbed the silence. I glanced up, my eyes straining past the light of the tiny lamp to peruse the shadows beyond the desk spattered with paperwork.

  My phone lit up from its perch on the end of the sofa in my office. Jaw cracking with a yawn, I reached for the device and answered absently, “I’m almost done here, Gran. I’m heading home soon.”

  Silence.

  “Hello?”

  Nothing.

  Alert, I pulled the phone away and peered at the number on the screen. It wasn’t my grandmother’s.

  It was Imani’s.

  “Elliot?” Her voice croaked through the tin
y speakers.

  Slowly, I placed the cell phone to my ear and replied, “Hey.”

  She hiccupped.

  “Mami? Why did you call?”

  “Because I didn’t think you’d answer.”

  I smiled in spite of myself, noticing the lag in her words. “Were you drinking?”

  “No.” She slurred.

  I waited.

  She sheepishly admitted, “Yes.”

  “Do you need a ride home?”

  “No. I’m home already.” She cursed. “I really thought you wouldn’t pick up.”

  I sank into the crook of the sofa. The reasons I should end this call were mounting, but I ignored all of them in favor of prolonging our tenuous connection. “Why were you drinking?”

  “I was out with Portia and Jane.”

  “Jane?”

  “She’s this gorgeous woman who ended up dating the guy who defrauded her.”

  “Did you just make that up?”

  “You can’t make stuff like that up.” She chuckled, her warm laughter coiling my stomach while simultaneously melting my bones. “Jane’s pregnant.”

  I tipped my head back. “Good for her.”

  “Oops. That was supposed to be a secret.” Her breathing deepened. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

  “I won’t, Mami.”

  I heard something rustling on her end of the line and could imagine her getting comfortable wherever she’d decided to hole up before she’d called me.

  “Where are you that you haven’t gone home yet?” she asked.

  “I’m at the restaurant.” I glanced through the open door that offered a bird’s-eye view of the tables waiting downstairs. “I was going over the menu before I send them off to be printed early tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s playing it close. Your place is opening tomorrow night, right?”

  “Yes. I had a few setbacks with the ingredients I’d chosen for the specials so I had to make a new plan on the fly.”

  “That should have been a piece of cake,” she said, her voice husky. “You were always good at improvising. Remember how you turned things around on my disaster of a birthday?”

  “Which one? Karaoke year or Swedish ball?”

  “The karaoke party doesn’t belong on that list.”

  “Oh, yes it does.” I shuddered just thinking about it.

  “I loved my party that year. I thought it went great.”

  “You got us kicked out of the bar,” I argued.

  “That DJ was racist.”

  “Mami, he was black.”

  “Oh?” She quickly came up with a comeback. “Then he must have been deaf.”

  I laughed. “I’m withholding any comments.”

  “Point is… it wasn’t my fault.

  “You’re right. It was Portia’s. She forgot that the woman of the hour couldn’t sing.”

  I could imagine her smiling. “The key was too high for me. Give me another shot and I’ll prove you wrong.”

  “No, I’d rather you didn’t.”

  “What? You scared?”

  “Mami, you realize if that DJ hadn’t cut you off, people would have started throwing their shot glasses. I’d rather not start my year off with a concussion.”

  We laughed.

  The past stole into my dark office, shedding away the layers of time and regret. We were just Elliot and Mami again. Uncomplicated. Simple.

  “You know what I’m curious about?” Imani asked.

  “What?”

  “How’d you make the jump from business to cooking? You always liked to cook, but I thought the plan was to work for a big corporation and get stinking rich?”

  “I tried the office gig. It paid well, but I was miserable.” I closed my eyes, realizing that I’d wanted to share all this with Imani for a long time and doing so now felt almost cathartic.

  “And? What changed your mind?”

  “One night, I was stressing out over a deadline, trying to suck up to my jerk of a boss. He put me in charge of his project on top of the other assignments I had. I barely had time to eat or sleep. On the day of the presentation, I blacked out.”

  She gasped. “No, what happened?”

  “I woke up in the hospital with an IV strung to my wrist. Everything shifted. I asked myself if I was happy and I wasn’t. So I quit the next day.”

  “How bold.”

  “I was terrified, but at least I had some savings to fall back on. Mom and Gran helped too.”

  “So you went to school to become a chef?”

  “Not at first. I took a few months off to tour Europe, find myself, figure out what I really wanted to do.”

  “That’s such a white thing to say.” Imani laughed. “Finding yourself.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Black people don’t have time to drop their jobs and take a tour of Europe because they’re miserable. At least not the ones that I know.”

  “Well, that’s what I did.” I grinned, ignoring her snark about my ‘whiteness’. “And it pointed me to cooking.”

  She sighed into the phone, her breath whisking over the lines. “Your food was so good on Sunday. It was better than I remembered. People will be clamoring to get into your restaurant.”

  “Thanks.” I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, hesitating before I asked, “Are you coming to the opening tomorrow night?”

  “Uh…” Imani cleared her throat, “probably not.”

  It was for the best. Putting distance between us was good for everyone. But damn. It felt like speeding in a sports car only to slam into a rock wall at full speed. I didn’t want reality to crash our world tonight.

  “Elliot? You’re not… you didn’t expect me to be there, did you?”

  “No. Of course not.” I lied through my teeth. “You must be busy so close to the wedding.”

  “Right. The wedding.”

  I shifted in my seat. “Anyway, we’re open from eleven to ten p.m. You can stop by whenever.”

  “I’ll do that. Maybe after the honeymoon.”

  Honeymoon? I gritted my teeth, imagining Amir and Imani together in some exotic hotel room late at night…

  “Great,” I choked.

  “Great.”

  She got quiet.

  I searched for something to say but, before I could spring another topic, Imani said, “I should probably go.”

  No, don’t. “Sure. I’ll see you, Mami.”

  “Goodbye, Elliot.”

  I waited for her to end the call.

  She didn’t.

  Neither did I.

  The cadence of her steady breathing felt like home. We stayed there, connected and silent, until a beeping sounded. I startled and looked at the screen. My phone warned that I was almost out of battery.

  When I moved back to sign off with Imani officially, I heard a click.

  She’d hung up.

  Quietly, I locked up my office and drove home, deep in thought.

  After parking in the driveway, I followed the golden shade of the porch light and plodded to the front door. Before I could open it, I saw the knob trembling. Seconds later, the door flew open and Gran stared up at me.

  Golden light shimmered over her dark skin and sleep-filled eyes. She wore a simple blue nightgown with a green bonnet over her head. A cell phone was clutched in her fingers.

  I stepped back in surprise. “Gran, why are you still up?”

  “I dozed off and realized you weren’t back yet. I was just about to call when I heard your vehicle pulling up.”

  I stepped inside and locked the door behind me.

  Gran yawned wide and covered her mouth with a hand. “Were you at the restaurant?”

  “Yeah. Just working over last minute details.”

  “Did you get everything smoothed out?” She patted my hand.

  I smiled, thinking about Imani’s call.

  “What’s that look?” Gran arched an eyebrow.

  I strode to the sofa and sat. “I talked to Ima
ni tonight.”

  “She came to the restaurant?”

  “No. Over the phone.”

  Gran sat beside me and primly tucked her dress beneath her. “Elliot, I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you two to keep in touch.”

  I nodded, only half-listening. When I felt a hand on my arm, I glanced over and found Gran staring worriedly at me.

  “What?”

  “You don’t plan to, um, storm her wedding or anything crazy like that, do you?”

  I laughed. “No, I didn’t plan to.”

  “Good.”

  I squeezed Gran’s hand. “I’m not going to do anything.”

  “Why don’t I feel any better hearing those words from you?”

  I settled back in the couch and sighed contentedly. “I’m going to wait.”

  “For what?” Gran leaned forward.

  “For Imani.” I nodded. “I’ll wait for her to come to me.”

  “Elliot… honey, just because she called you tonight doesn’t mean—”

  “Would you prefer I crash her wedding?”

  “No.” Gran wrung her hands. “I talked to her, you know. That day after church. She seems very conflicted. I tried to ease her pain a little and told her about your mother.”

  “You did?”

  She nodded, the bonnet slipping down her forehead. “I’m worried, Elliot. Even if she comes to you, even if she throws everything away, she might not feel at ease.”

  “Are you saying I’m wrong?”

  “I’m saying don’t get your hopes up. I know Imani still has feelings for you. Everyone with two eyeballs and a little bit of common sense can tell. Which is probably why her fiancé told you to stay away from his wedding.”

  I gritted my teeth. That still stung. I’d preferred if Amir had just punched me. Like a man. Instead, he’d gone for the underbelly and hit me where it hurt.

  “She’ll come.”

  Gran stared worriedly at me. “A part of me hopes you’re right and the other… for Imani’s sake…”

  “She’ll come.” I folded my fingers into fists.

  She had to.

  Chapter 18

  IMANI

  My fingers tapped the table. My gaze flitted to the sexy fireman calendar hanging on the wall. Beneath a picture of a fine specimen with rows of abs, rich obsidian skin and come-hither eyes were the days of the month.