The Heart is a Lonely Hunter (19 page)

Going over to the sofa and sitting beside her he took the drink from her hand and placed it on the coaster. Turning towards her, his palms sweaty, he grabbed the back of her neck gently, and pulled her head forward ever so slowly and kissed her teasingly—then passionately.

“In your case I wanted you from the first—the very first—moment I laid eyes on you and talking to you only enhanced your beauty in my eyes.”

Sylvia’s hands moved against his chest, fighting, struggling to push him away. Respecting her wishes, Terrance retreated and reached for his glass. Before he knew it Sylvia stunned him, reaching for him hungrily. Terrance wondered who was in charge now, but it mattered little as Sylvia pulled him down onto the sofa. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain, tasted blood, and realized she’d bitten his lip. Freeing himself from her clutches, he scowled at her angrily before heading to the bathroom for a tissue and a condom. She’d pay for that he thought to himself as he wiped the blood away, smiled and then eased the condom on.

When he returned, Terrance found Sylvia Stanton stretched out and sleeping soundly. He sighed, smiling. How long had he waited for this moment, for this opportunity, for this woman? What was it his daddy used to say? ‘
If it wasn’t for bad luck he’d have no luck at all.’
Terrance smiled on as he took off her shoes, jewelry and loosened her belt. In the linen closet he found a clean sheet and pillowcase and remade his guest bed. After considerable effort, he finally tucked her in and then made a fresh pot of
Folgers
and called Jazzy:

“Jazz, I need you to do me a favor. Sylvia left her car there and she’s asleep and I need to get it here, so that she has it when she wakes up.”

“No problem, my brotha. Hurry up, though. The longer I’m gone, the more money I lose.” Jazz replied.

Terrance checked her purse for her keys and headed for the door. He thought about Jazzy for a minute. He’d known him close to—well, at least as long as he could remember, and in all that time Jazz had only one pursuit—
money.
And he made it, lots of it, hand over fist and in a variety of ways. He was the sole owner of Dante’s where he had no real responsibilities, except to sign checks and sign the latest talent, but Jazzy figured if he had to be there he might as well mingle and make a little money too. So, he waitered, bartended and even parked cars if he thought he could bring in another dollar. He could make a hundred and a half easily on a good night and seemed to grab almost as many numbers. The women loved him. He could work a ten dollar table and get a ten dollar tip. And nothing upset him, nothing, except someone messin’ with his money.

Terrance pulled up in front of Dante’s and handed Jazzy the keys. “I love you, Tee, but you’re messin’ with my livelihood now,” Jazzy said

Terrance chuckled. “Couldn’t be helped, baby,” he confessed.

By the time the whole affair was over, it was close to twelve-thirty and he was beat. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he marked a few papers, checked his lesson plans for the up coming day, and went to bed.

No sooner than he closed his eyes he was aware of Sylvia’s presence in the house. Making his way to the guest bedroom he found her sitting on the edge of the bed. Terrance reached over and touched her hand, stroking it gently.

“Having second thoughts, Mrs. Stanton?” Terrance shot at her.

“No, no at all, I just wish our planning had been better. I wish it hadn’t been a school night.”

No sooner had she made the comment than the phone rang. As Terrance reached to turn the volume on the answering machine down, Sylvia grabbed his hand. A woman’s voice came on.

“Terrance, if you’re home, please answer the phone. Please!”
Terrance tried to free himself from Sylvia’s grasp and was surprised at her strength, as he waited with some apprehension for the rest of the recorder’s message:

m

“I hope I didn’t embarrass you tonight. Funny thing though, Terrance, I liked her. Sylvia, is it? A bit old, but, well, we can’t fault her for trying to have one last fling before she collects her pension, now can we? If she’s there I suppose there is no better time than now to ask yourself if she can move you like I can. Did she make your toes curl or did you simply go through the motions? I’ll give you a little time to think about it before you answer and then I’m quite sure I’ll be hearing from you. Don’t take too long though; you know there’s a waiting list on this end

too. None of them compare to you though, sweetie pie. Well, I gotta go. I love you Mr. T. Oh, and—”

The answering machine cut her off at this point. Terrance, who had been listening intently, shot a glance at Sylvia.

“On second thought Terrance, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Would you please take me to get my car? Got to get up in the morning and it’s getting kind of late. He started to explain, and then decided against it.

“Your car is out front. I had Jazzy bring it over.”

Sylvia smiled. “The moment I start to think something negative about you, you go and do something like this. I can see why Laura is so hung up on you.” Sylvia kissed him on the cheek and was out the door before Terrance could get his pajama bottoms on.

William stood waiting at the door when Sylvia pulled into the driveway. It was one thirty-five. William waited only as long as it took Sill to get in the door, before the barrage of profanity and insults started.

“Do you know what time it is? Where the hell have you been, Sylvia?”

‘”Not now, William, I’m not in the mood.”

“That’s half the problem. You’re never in the mood. You know I’m leaving tomorrow. You could have at least have had the common decency to call. You still haven’t told me where you’ve been.” William was livid.

“Tell you where I’ve been,” she answered, resentment surging up in her. “I’m twenty one and then some. And I told you when I left that I’m not one of your possessions. I don’t have to tell you a damn thing, William Stanton. My mother lives in North Carolina and my daddy’s twice the man you’ll ever be and I don’t have to tell him.

William’s fist caught her flush on the side of her head and Sylvia crumpled to the floor in a heap, sobbing convulsively.

“Out there whorin’ around. You’d better get yourself together, Sill. You’d damn well better. I leave tomorrow morning and when I get back things are gonna change. Best believe, things are gonna change.”

Still sobbing, Sill attempted to get up. William slapped her this time. Sill fell back against the loveseat, crying hysterically and holding her face, which was quickly swelling. William stalked out of the room. Slowly, Sylvia pulled herself up onto the couch, took a deep breath before filling a plastic bag with ice and using it as a cold compress before crying herself to sleep.

William was still asleep when she strode into their bedroom the next morning. If he had known what she felt that morning, he would never have slept. Placing the meat cleaver down next to William’s pillow she let him know in no uncertain terms that the next time he thought to lay his hands on her would be the death of him.

On her way to work Sylvia Stanton had only one thought. She prayed that William would not be home when she returned from work. She was exhausted, her head ached and all she knew was that she didn’t need another bout with this cowardly lightweight. Life was just too short. William awoke much in the same frame of mind. He was exhausted. Between the office and Sill’s selfishness he was at his wit’s end and although he was truly sorry for his actions the problem remained. It was then that he saw the meat cleaver. The message clear, William lay back down—stunned.

Thinking about the events of the night before, hot tears flowed like so many rivers down his cheeks. He hadn’t meant to put his hands on her. He vowed to make it up to her, but right now he had work to do, bags to pack and a plane to catch.

CHAPTER 12
 

“Hello, Jazzy. This is Sylvia. I don’t know if you remember me. I’m a friend of Terrance’s.”

“Sure. Sure, I remember you. What can I do for you this evening, Sylvia?”

“I was wondering if you’d happened to see Terrance.” Sylvia wondered if she was being too forward. After all, this was all new to her and she didn’t want him to think she was just another of Terrance’s hungry, love-struck fans. Realizing that this just might be the case and desperate to talk to him, to anyone at this moment, she lost her reserve.

“No, not lately,” Jazzy replied.

“Well, should you see him, would you ask him to give me a call at 632-1436. Tell him to ask for Room 213.” As soon as she gave him the room number, she was sorry she had. She could just as well have told him to ask for her by name. How stupid. Jazzy was no dummy though, and would probably assume that Terrance had her so strung out that she was lying in bed, in some cheap fleabag motel, passion driving her out of her mind, while Terrance was out with Laura or some other heifer, not giving her a second thought. She was sorry at once for having made the call at all. Yet, even if Jazzy was thinking this, he gave no sign whatsoever and she was grateful for that. Instead, he seemed to read something altogether different in her phone call.

“You sound a little uptight, Sylvia. Is everything okay?” the concern obvious in his voice.

“Oh, I’m fine. Thanks for asking. If you do see him would you tell him that I’ll be here for the remainder of the evening?” Again she felt that she’d let the cat out of the bag, intimating perhaps a bit too much. It was too late now she concluded, but she really did need to speak with him.

She’d made it a point to call Edwin earlier that evening and this time she was fortunate enough to reach him. She realized it was a bit late to be conducting business. Edwin was sympathetic and said, under the circumstances, she should have never remained in the house, but should have called her last night, so he could have made sure she was tucked away safely in a hotel. Still bristling with anger she was giving serious consideration to putting the house on the market, then wondered if she were not being too vengeful.

The following day, Sylvia met with Mr. Langdon, the principal at the West Lansing, for about forty-five minutes, explaining the situation at home as best she could under the circumstances. Sylvia was quite fond of her supervisor. He had given her the opportunity to teach when no one else had. And, although her resignation was abrupt and without notice, she knew if anyone would understand, he would. Tears streamed down her face as she cleared out her desk.

It was a little after four and the school was usually deserted by this time of day and she preferred it that way. There was no way she could have faced her students. Often times when she grew lonely and despondent and questioned her purpose in the grand scheme of things, her only consolation were those innocent, sweet uplifted faces before her. Oh God, how she would miss them. How rewarding it was to watch them grow from nervous freshman to young adult’s right before her very eyes.

As she continued to empty the last few remnants from her desk, her thoughts turned to William. Maybe he was right. Maybe she didn’t have the kind of help they needed. Whatever! She cursed William for taking away the one thing she truly loved, her profession. A tearful soul, Mr. Langdon, helped her carry out the last of her boxes and bid her farewell.

“You will be missed, Sylvia,” was the best he could do. “Make sure you keep in touch with me, and if you change your mind, remember that there’s always a position open for you here at West Lansing.” He hugged her again before bidding her farewell. “Keep in touch, Sylvia,” he yelled as she exited the parking lot.

“I will,” she shouted back, knowing full well that she wouldn’t, that she couldn’t. She couldn’t.

Arriving back at the motel at a little after five, Sylvia checked the front desk for messages and was informed that there weren’t any. Then, just as she put the key in the door, she heard the phone ringing. Racing to open the door, Sill burst into the room, threw herself across the bed and grabbed the phone. All attempts at regaining her composure were gone. “Hello!”

“Yes, Mrs. Stanton, this is Beverly at the front desk. I’m sorry I did have a message for you to call a Mr. Edwin Davis. Shall I give you the number?”

“No, thank you, that’s quite alright. I have his number.” Disappointed that it wasn’t Terrance, Sill hung up the phone. She wondered what the devil Edwin wanted. Dinner perhaps. She smiled, and thought of Edwin doing his best to try to stay focused, professional and avert his eyes from her rather ample chest at dinner last night. She had purposely pushed her bra up with the hopes of showing a little more cleavage when she went to the ladies room just to mess with the very astute, very professional Mr. Davis. She really didn’t know why she was messing with him except that she could and she liked the idea of having men fawn over her now that she was, in her eyes, once again single. Perhaps, she was just happy to be able to flirt, to be playful—to let her hair down. Perhaps, the thought of some male attention after being taken for granted for so long, appealed to her. But he had resisted. And though she tried to purposely entice him, she appreciated the fact that he hadn’t hit on her. Now, he probably was having second thoughts and wanted to do dinner.

In the midst of her ego trip it dawned on her as to why he was calling. She had forgotten to stop by the bank. She had given Edwin the power of attorney and forgotten to transfer the funds into her private account. ‘Probably thinks I got cold feet. Let me call him now,’ Sill muttered to herself. No sooner had she said this the phone rang. It was Edwin and sure enough he wanted to know if she had changed her mind. There was no reference of last night’s meeting or the idea of dinner in the future. He was strictly business.

Terrance hadn’t bothered to call either and she had left messages several places for him to get in contact with her. Perhaps she was getting a bit heavy around the love handles. In any case, no one was busting the door down to get in. The hotel phone rang again, shattering Sill’s idle ramblings.

“Hello,” Sill answered softly, humbly.

“Sylvia, this is Terrance. What happened to you, today? This is the first time in I don’t know how long, that I rushed to work and you decide to play hooky. When I found that you weren’t there, I can honestly say that it was the longest day I’ve ever had since I started teaching. What have you done to me?”