Dare to Love (27 page)

‘I want to make love to you.’

‘We agreed.’

‘I know but I didn’t think I was going to feel like this.’

‘I thought that’s why you didn’t come last night, that you didn’t want to see me if there was no sex.’

He holds me at arms length. ‘Babes, that’s so far from the truth. I wish…’ He holds me close again.

‘Grant?’

‘Yes babes.’

‘You make me very happy,’ I say into his shoulder, ‘but I can’t see how this could work.’

‘You give up too easy.’

‘Do you have a plan?’

‘No, but if I know you’re with me we can make it work.’

‘Give me a drink of that brandy.’ I need something to steady my nerves, or something to blame for the conversation I’m about to have.

‘Grant, if we’re going to talk about a future I need to know why the police guy that I train with warned me off you.’

‘What’d you mean?’ He looks and sounds surprised.

‘He told me to be careful who I mix with. That not everybody is who they appear to be. When I asked him who he meant, he said you. What does he mean?’

He’s still facing me but his eyes look upwards, as though he’s searching for the right words. When his eyes meet mine again he says, ‘Maybe it’s because I’m Guyanese.’

‘Why would he warn me about you being Guyanese?’

‘You don’t understand Josi. When you in other people’s country they can say anything they like about you. Maybe he even like you for himself and want to warn you off me.’

‘I don’t think it’s because he likes me. He seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being.’

‘When he warn you off?’

‘The day after I met up with Karl, you know, the day you introduced me to your friend, what’s his name again?’

‘Sammy,’ he says flatly.

‘So are you saying that’s all it is? Just because you’re Guyanese.’

‘I can’t think of any other reason. Can you?’

‘Maybe he knows you have a girlfriend. Maybe he didn’t want to see me get hurt.’

‘And you think I could do that? You think I could hurt you, Josi?’

‘Maybe it’s too late for that,’ I mumble to myself.

He holds me close again. ‘I’d never do anything to hurt you,’ he says with such conviction I want to believe him.

‘Maybe not knowingly,’ I mutter into his shoulder. I’m sure Richard didn’t intend to hurt me. His hearing must be very acute today because he replies.

‘Seem like you looking for reasons to push me away.’

‘It’s just not clear to me how we can be together.’

‘Work with me Josi. If you willing – work with me and we can make it happen.’

I have no answer. It feels like too big a task.

‘I want to make love to you so bad,’ he croaks into my ear. ‘So bad.’ He moves my hand to his crotch. I feel his swelling. I want him too but we agreed not to the day before I go home. It’s too close to being with Richard again. I don’t think I can handle it. We hold each other for a while, each lost in our own thoughts. He pulls back suddenly, as though a thought’s just occurred to him.

‘Is that why you never introduce me to your friends?’

‘What?’

‘All the time I been seeing you. You never introduce me to your friends, never invite me in to meet them. Is it because he warned you off?’

‘Don’t you think it would be a bit weird me introducing you. What would I say? Hi Celia, Kenny, this is Grant, my lover, he lives with his girlfriend and son.’

‘I don’t live with Mel.’

‘So you say.’

‘You still don’t believe me?’

‘I want to, Grant, but you seem at her beck and call, she seemed so at home in your kitchen.’

‘I’d prefer if you were the one at home in it.’

‘I’m not a kitchen person.’

‘You want us to spend our last day fighting?’

‘No,’ I say slowly. ‘There’re just too many unanswered questions. I can’t see how it could work.’

‘Josi, let me ask you this. If there was a way it could work, would you want it to? Would you want to spend the rest of your life with me?’

‘Is this a proposal?’

‘If by that you mean would I want to spend the rest of my life with you – yes.’

‘But you know so little about me.’

‘I know what I feel in here,’ he touches his chest. ‘If you tell me you don’t feel it I’ll step back. Let you go home to Richard and leave you alone.’

He puts on his shades, lies on his back on the chair and folds his arms across his chest.

I try to run the movie forward from this point; try to see my life without Richard, to see it with Grant. I can’t see him in England, in sleet and snow and hail. Can’t see him braced against the driving wind. His leisurely steps wouldn’t suit the hustle and bustle of commuting. He’s made for the sun and the pace of life here. I would have to move here to be with him. What kind of life would I have? I’d have to start from scratch again. And my boys, when would I see them? What would they think? Only eight months ago they were celebrating with me the start of what should have beena long, happy marriage. And my friends. I can see the shock on their faces, hear their exclamations of disbelief; feel their pity. What would I tell my clients? Your counsellor can’t hold her own life together but she’s charging to show you how to hold yours together. People like me don’t just ride off into the sunset leaving all their responsibilities behind.

I look across at him, supine and sensuous. I try to imagine never seeing him again. Prickly beads of sweat burst from my forehead and the centre of my back. I feel nauseas. Feel like I’ve been stabbed in the chest with a rusty knife, sharp piercing pain shoots down my arms and turns my fingers numb. Breathing deeply, I force myself to keep calm.

He turns his head, looks at me; sits up quickly.

‘You OK babes? You don’t look too good.’

I’m shivering and he’s holding me tight and stroking my hair.

‘Babes, what’s up? You sweating bad.’

‘I feel sick.’

‘You eat something bad?’

‘No.’

‘What’s up? Why you shaking so much? You want me get you something?’

‘Just hold me.’ I stutter. And he does. Keeps stroking my hair and whispering, ‘Babes, it’s OK. I love you babes. We’re gonna be OK Josi.’ He’s hypnotic. I want to believe him, to forget the reasons I can’t be with him. There’s a full scale battle going on in my head; reason and rationality versus wanting. Both sides have blown up their arguments till my head feels like a pressure cooker. I feel I’m going to explode when Grant cups my cheeks in both his hands. I feel his soft lips on my cheeks, on my eyes.

‘Don’t cry babes. We’re going to be OK. We can work it out. Just work with me.’

‘It would be so easy to say yes,’ I say between gulps of air.

‘Then say it. Say yes, Josi.’

I cling to him like mistletoe to a tree and pant, ‘Yes. Yes, I’ll work with you.’

‘Oh babes,’ he whispers as his lips find mine.

My head’s still a tangled mass of wire but his kiss lifts the lid on the pressure cooker in my chest. I dissolve into his breath. There’s only us on the beach. I wish I could stay here, like this. When I finally look at him, he’s beaming. I’ve never seen his smile so wide, never seen his face so radiant, never felt his energy so strong. We both laugh, peals and tinkles mixed with excitement, anticipation, apprehension and love.

The next few hours are a surreal haze. We try to make plans, or at least I try to and he advises me to take one step at a time. It feels like I’ve become a child and he’s the adult. He wants to be with me but he wants all of me, doesn’t want any bits still tangled up with Richard. I need to go home and deal with whatever I need to do with Richard. When I ask if he will deal with Mel he assures me that his is a far less complicated situation than mine. What’s important is that we keep in touch, by email, Facebook, Skype. We can even see each other on webcam, and there’s always the good old telephone. If we want this to work we just have to apply a little imagination. He’s so in control, so animated, so lacking in doubt. I’m caught up in his tsunami of certainty and stay there till the rain drives us for shelter. We huddle under the canopy of the kiosk with the other sunbathers, mostly tourists with English accents from the hotel across the road. We’re in our own little bubble, holding hands and gazing at each other like love struck teenagers.

When the shower’s over he says he’s promised Darron he can come and watch him play football today. He’ll have to phone and cancel. I tell him no, to keep his promise.

‘Can I see you later then?’

‘When?’

‘Do you want to go dancing tonight? Make up for last night?’

‘Let me check if Celia has anything planned as it’s my last night.’

I call Celia. With Kenny just back yesterday, they were planning to take me out for a drink at a beach bar but are happy to step aside if I have a better offer.

‘Yeah, love to come with you,’ I smile at him.

‘You want me to give you a ride back?’

‘No I’m going to stay here a bit longer, maybe let the waves wash away any craziness I’ve just agreed to.’

‘Babes, none of this is crazy. Maybe the sanest thing you ever do.’ He says as he bends to kiss me goodbye. He seems to have a thought and sits down again.

‘Josi, if we’re going to be together don’t you think you should introduce me to your friends?’

‘Why?’ Even as I say it I know it’s a stupid question.

‘I want to start getting to know the people in your life. That’s one way I can keep close to you. I introduce you to people in my life.’

‘OK, call for me earlier tonight. Come about seven.’

‘Thanks babes.’ He kisses me again. There’s almost a spring in his languorous steps as he makes his way back to his car.

I can’t settle on the beach. Without his unwavering strength the doubts come flooding in. How do I introduce him to Celia and Kenny? ‘This is Grant, the man I met two weeks ago who I’m planning to leave my husband for. He’s fourteen years younger than me and comes with a mass of complications, but he makes my heart sing, he sets my soul on fire and I can’t get enough of his sex. He has no job but is ambitious, wants to succeed and wants to be with me for the rest of his life.’

I’ve read enough Mills and Boon, watched enough daytime TV to know that what I’ve just agreed to could be seen as delusional. I know all the arguments against, I might have even written one or two of them myself. Without him by my side they begin to take over. One step at a time, Josi, I remind myself. All you have to do tonight is introduce him. You don’t have to tell them anything else. You can fill Celia in on the details as they develop. Things may look very different when you get home.

It’s eight o’clock before he arrives. I get a text at seven thirty:
Sorry babes running late be there in thirty mins
. Thirty more minutes to hold the tension. He arrives looking like he’s stepped out of a movie. A black T-shirt with a dragon motif hugs his chest and is tucked loosely into tight navy jeans. They meet his shiny shoes into which are inserted nervous, uneasy feet. I give him a quick peck on his lips to relax him a little and go to get him a drink of water while he talks to Celia and Kenny.

There’s a certain synergy between real estate and surveying. Kenny’s visited Guyana so shares some of his experiences. Grant quickly relaxes with them. Conversation is easy for the hour he stays before we leave to go dancing. No one mentions our status. He’s simply come to take me dancing.

‘Your friends are nice,’ he says as he holds the car door open for me.

‘Yes, I know. That’s why I spend so much time with them.’

‘I wish you’d introduced me sooner. Would have been nice to spend time with you and them.’

I feel like I’m being reprimanded but decide not to rise to the bait. ‘You will do,’ I say instead.

He slides in behind the wheel. ‘Now I want a real kiss.’

He takes me to a beach bar Kenny recommended but before we’ve finished our first drink they begin to pack down the music. It appears Sundays is early closing. He suggests St Lawrence Gap. Even on a Sunday it’s bustling with people out to have a good time, mostly tourists with nowhere to go on Monday.

We settle for the Reggae Lounge, which has a live Bob Marley and old-skool tribute band. He has me tucked under his arm like a trophy as we walk to the bar and he keeps me there while we sip our rum and cokes. It’s too loud to talk so we watch the other dancers on the floor. The large woman in white spider’s web leggings that make her buttocks look like two giant watermelons perched beside each other. When she moves in her six inch stiletto heels they roll from side to side like giant marbles rubbing against each other. The sleeves of her tight white top drape like batwings from her elbows. She wobbles and shakes like a firm jelly and is amazingly flexible for someone so large. She moves like a dancehall diva. The other dancers are happy to let her have the centre of the floor. She’s mesmerising.

When the band strikes up “No Woman No Cry”, Grant takes me to the floor. He slides both his arms around my shoulders and holds me like a delicate piece of china. As he moves his body, I remember why I was so eager to dance with him again. He mouths something that I don’t hear, the band’s too loud; but I don’t need to. He tells me everything I want to know with his body. He’s tender, teasing, probing, searching, questioning, penetrating. He responds to my every thought. A slide here, a thrust there, a tight grip, a feathery embrace. We’ve blended, merged, like the yin/yang symbol; flowing into each other, forming the perfect circle. I’m hot and wet and wanting. He’s hard as nails, supple as plasticine, flexible as water. In the dark corner of the floor we make love to the pulsating rhythms of “Kinky Reggae”, “Cry to Me”, “Easy Skanking”, “Natural Mystic”. The band is good, sliding effortlessly from one great song to another. When they play “Stir It Up”, he mouths the words against my ears
. ‘I’ll push the wood then I blaze ya fire; then I’ll satisfy your heart’s desire. (Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh) said, I stir it every every minute: all you got to do, baby (ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh), is keep it in, eh!’
I feel him press hard against me, feel the hunger in his breath, the craving in his touch. I pull him in close. ‘Do you want me?’ I ask in his ear.