The List (26 page)

O
ver the next few weeks, I barely had time to think about being desperate and lonely. Or about the wonderful man I was trusting God to send. Work consumed my entire life. Me, my faithful assistant and camera crew traveled all over metro Atlanta, filming B-roll of artists in their creative places. We had some real cool settings—a courtyard on top of a building with a great view of the Atlanta skyline, a flower garden in the Arboretum, Piedmont Park by the lake.

We also spent hours in the inner city—some of the worst neighborhoods—shooting gritty scenes of our destiny kids. In their homes, schools, and places they liked to hang out, where kids their age had no business being.

Jason went with us on a few shoots, and I got to see his true talent. He was amazing as a director and knew how to handle the camera better than our seasoned cameraman. He had an eye for setting up shots that were unique and creative. After reviewing the footage he shot, I convinced him he needed to go on all the shoots with me because his scenes had extra flavor that was artistic and eclectic.

Which was great for the shows, but not so great for my aching heart. The more we worked together, spending hours and hours doing what we loved, the more desperate and lonely I felt.

Seeing him work out in the field made him come alive. It was one thing to see him sitting at a computer for hours in the edit suite, but behind a camera setting up a perfect shot—staging camera angles and getting the lights just perfect; knowing exactly what time of day the sun would be just right; knowing what colors would work best in what lighting—he was brilliant.

Jason was the right blend of authoritative, yet considerate on the shoots. Everybody liked and respected him. He worked well with our destiny kids, even when they drove me crazy. He knew how to talk to the young guys, and I knew all our girls secretly had a crush on him.

I kept realizing more and more that he was everything on my list and then some. I couldn't shake the image of him and his daughters. They say you can tell a lot about a man by how he treats his momma. I say you can tell even more by the way he cares for his children.

The more I saw of Jason, the further I sank. I tried to tell myself it was because of losing Isaiah, but I knew I'd been drooling over Jason long before Isaiah came and went.

And to make matters worse, after we finished shooting, I had weeks in the edit suite to look forward to—just the two of us—for hours on end. Talking, laughing, creating . . .

It was going to be torture.

For the first week, I tried to keep everything serious. He kept finding ways to make me let my guard down. I'd start off all businesslike, and before I knew it, he had me laughing my head off. We took breaks and had long conversations about everything. Spirituality, music, movies, our ideas for documentaries and television shows, and anything else we could think of.

Even though we were having fun, both of us seemed driven to get the shows done, so we worked long hours, often late into the evening.

Jason's mom was visiting for a whole month, so she'd pick up the girls from school, and get them fed and bathed. Jason left in time to spend “Daddy time” with them, then tuck them into bed.

I felt guilty for keeping him from his girls and his mother, but he said whenever his mom was around, the three of them ignored him anyway. He insisted we get as much done as we could while she was in town because he wouldn't be able to keep those hours when she left. I told him we had plenty of time even without working the long hours, but he seemed more pressed than me to get the shows finished. When I asked him why, he said it was best to stay ahead of schedule because you never know what might happen.

After his mom left, we went back to regular hours. When it was time for Jason to leave every evening, we both lingered in my office or in the edit suite until the last possible moment. If the girls stayed too late in after-care, he got charged by the minute, so by 5:15 every day, he grabbed all his stuff and went racing out of the office.

One day, at about 5:00, while we were in the middle of editing a shoot, Jason kept looking up at the clock. I finally said, “You should go. We'll finish this tomorrow.”

“I hate stopping when I'm in a good flow. I think I'm gonna take the tape with me and finish it at home tonight.”

“How?”

He started shutting down the system. “I recently set up my own edit suite at home. I've done a lot of freelancing over the past six months. Do you mind if I finish this tonight?”

“I guess not. If you run into any problems, you can call me and I'll try to give whatever input I can over the phone.”

“Okay. Or . . .” He pulled the tape out of the deck. “You could stop by, and we can finish it together. If you don't mind. I mean, if you don't have anything else to do. I mean, if that's okay with you. I mean, not that you don't have anything else to do. But I mean, if you want to.” He shoved the tape in his book bag and stood there waiting for me to answer.

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks.
He's inviting you over for work, Michelle, not out on a date. Chill.
“Umm, okay. I don't have anything to do. I mean, of course, I have stuff to do, but it would be good to get this done. I mean, since we were in such a good flow and everything. I mean, yeah—we can work on stuff tonight.”

He nodded. “Okay, cool. I mean, cool that we can get this finished. You know, because it would be good to go ahead and get it done.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay,” he said.

We stood there looking at each other like we weren't sure what we were supposed to do next.

I'm sure God was looking down at both of us, shaking His head. He'd elbow Jesus and ask, “What's wrong with these two goofballs?”

Jesus would shrug and shake His head in agreement with God that we were absolutely pitiful.

I finally looked up at the clock. “You better go.”

“Huh?” He gave me a blank stare.

“The girls?”

He shook his head quickly. “Oh, yeah. The girls. Yeah. I better go get them.”

He headed toward the door of the edit suite. “I'll text you directions. Give me about an hour to get them settled and get dinner on. You should have dinner with us. I mean, if you want to. I mean, you don't have to, but since I'm cooking and all, you might as well. I mean, you know . . .”

“Sounds good, Jason. I'll be there in about an hour.”

He smiled and started down the hall. He called out to me, “Okay, see you in about an hour. Come hungry.”

Of course, it wasn't ten seconds before Erika flew into the edit suite. “He'll see you in about an hour? What's that all about?” Her eyes were wide with excitement.

“I really think you do have bugs set up everywhere in this building.” I reached a hand under the table in the edit suite, pretending to be checking for bugs.

“Come hungry? Are you and Jason going out to dinner?” Erika looked like she was going to pounce on me if I didn't give her some answers.

I started down the hall to my office. She was close behind. “Michelle, stop playing. What's going on with you and Jason?”

I grabbed her arm and pulled her into my office, looked both ways and shut the door. “Are you crazy? Why did you say that all loud in front of everybody?”

“Girl, ain't nobody paying me no attention. My gossip sources are out in the field or out sick today. Nobody else cares. And, besides, if you woulda told me, I wouldn't have to be all loud about it. Are you going to dinner with Jason? He finally asked you out on a date? I knew it. Just a matter of time.”

“We're not going on a date. I'm going over his house so we can finish editing the show we were working on. He's cooking dinner for the girls and said I might as well eat with them. That's all. Don't be making something out of nothing.”

Erika's shoulders slumped and she looked a little deflated. “Is that all? I thought something was finally happening between the two of you.”

“Sorry not to have any new gossip for you, girlfriend. It's just work.”

“Wait a minute.” Her eyes lit back up. “He invited you to his house? Around his girls? That's a big deal. You might not realize it, but Jason is really saying something with that.”

I started packing my bag with a couple of scripts and some snacks, just in case Jason wasn't a good cook like Lisa had predicted. “Girl, please. Like I said, don't be making something out of nothing. I've met his girls before. At church. It's not a big deal. In fact, if he doesn't mind me being around them, it means he doesn't like me like that. He wouldn't bring me around his children if he thought about me that way.” My stomach sank as I realized the truth of what I'd said.

What started as an excuse to get Erika off my case slammed me in the face. Jason must not think of me as more than a friend, if he didn't mind me being around his girls. He was the kind of father that wouldn't introduce his girls to a love interest until he was near 'bout ready to propose.

I had been reading the signs wrong. The flirty conversations in the edit suite all those late evenings. The admiring look in his eyes when we were on a shoot together. The constant touchy-feelyness when he thought I needed comfort or encouragement. He was just being friendly.

And the dinner invite tonight? He only wanted to get the show done.

My movements got slower as I pushed a few final things into my bag. Maybe I should call and cancel. I was silly to think Jason liked me. He only thought of me as a co-worker and a friend.

I probably wasn't his type. I remembered a picture of him and Latrice on his desk when he first transferred to our department. She was red-boned with long, permed hair and a gorgeous face. In the picture, she was facing forward, but her body was sideways. She was petite in every way, except she had a huge black-girl butt, accentuated by a tiny waistline. She was even prettier and shapelier than Nicole. And she was dressed all prissy in a suit, stockings, and heels.

Why would I think he would be attracted to me? Brown-skinned, nappy afro, and dressing like a Bohemian every day.

“Whatever, Michelle.”

I had almost forgotten Erika was in the room.

“I can't wait until tomorrow morning. You have to tell me how it goes.”

“I'm sure there'll be nothing to tell.”

Erika bopped out of my office and started humming that stupid wedding march. “Da da da dum. Dum da da dum.”

I wanted to throw my stapler after her.

I
pulled up at Jason's house about an hour and a half later. I had spent twenty minutes in the parking lot, dialing his number to call and cancel, and then hanging up. Then I drove to my house, planning on calling to cancel after I was in my pajamas, eating a bowl of cereal. I was just about to take off my work clothes when he texted me the directions with a note at the end.
Hurry up, the girls are hungry and we're waiting on you to eat.

I reasoned that I couldn't keep his girls starving. I dashed back out to my car, trying to kill the giddy feeling in my heart.
He doesn't like you like that, Michelle. He's your friend and co-worker. This is about work.

It wasn't enough to keep me from breaking a few traffic laws to get there.

When I rang the doorbell, he opened the door, looking at his watch. “What happened?”

“Sorry. I got caught up at the office.” Great. I just had to tell an office lie to someone I worked with, who knew I could have left five minutes after he did.

“Really. What happened at the office?”

Shoot.
Think, Michelle
. “I . . . well, Erika . . .”

“Who's that, Daddy?” Candace poked her head out the door. “Hi, Miss Michelle. We've been expecting you. Daddy, aren't you going to invite her in?”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” He stepped aside for me to walk into the house.

Candace rolled her eyes and let out a deep breath, like she was embarrassed that her daddy had no manners.

The house was a modest split-level in an older, but well-kept neighborhood. I could tell Latrice had left him with the furniture, because it was nicely decorated and definitely had a woman's touch. There were kids' toys everywhere. Lined against the walls, in the hallway, in the family room we walked by . . . everywhere. The house wasn't dirty, but definitely a little on the cluttered side.

Jason watched me taking it in. “Excuse the mess. I'm a single dad with two young girls and don't have a housekeeper. I try to keep it at an organized chaos.”

“It's fine, Jason.” What I was really thinking was that his house was cleaner than mine and I didn't have the kids as an excuse. I was going to have to use my promotion raise to get a housekeeper. Before the week was out. “You have a nice house.”

“Thanks. Sorry, but the girls couldn't wait. I went ahead and fed them. You want to fix a plate and come on downstairs?”

I nodded and followed him into the kitchen.

Instantly, I was reminded of my mom's kitchen in the house where I grew up. The décor was homey with bright yellow walls, and a large circular breakfast table with plastic daisies in a large vase. On the refrigerator were several hand-drawn pictures. On one side, the pictures were mostly awkward houses, flowers and people. Each was signed with Cameron's name in large, loopy letters.

The other side was obviously Candace's. There was one picture of a man holding two girls' hands. They all had big smiles on their faces. Another was a picture of a man and said, “I love my daddy” in crooked cursive letters. Another had a man and a girl and said, “I have the best daddy in the world.” Yet another said, “Thank you for being a good daddy. You take me fun places and help me with my homework. And when I sick, you make me well.” Another had a house with a large sunshine heart over it. All the pictures were stuck to the refrigerator with alphabet magnets.

“Candace is quite an artist,” Jason said.

“It's clear that she loves her daddy.”

He grinned. “Yeah. That's my girl.” He pulled a plate out of the cabinet. “Are you a wee bit hungry or a little bit hungry or a lotta bit hungry?”

“Is that daddy talk?” I laughed. “I'm starving.”

He heaped the plate with angel hair pasta.

“Not that much. My goodness.” Even though I convinced myself we were just friends, I didn't need to be all greedy in front of Jason.

He took some pasta off and poured spaghetti sauce over the rest then added steamed broccoli and garlic bread on the side.

He poured a glass of apple juice and carried it and my plate out of the kitchen and down the stairs, nodding for me to follow.

When we got to the lower den, I was impressed by what I saw. Jason had an edit suite similar to what we had at the office, complete with a mini DV deck, a professional playback monitor, and two 17-inch flat-panel computer monitors.

“Whoa, nice setup. I don't see why you ever come in to the office. I'd work from home if I had all this.”

“Yeah, but you're at the office, so I have to come there.”

He flashed me a grin, and I had to remind myself he was being friendly, not flirty.

“When did you get all this?”

Jason set my plate down on a folding TV table and indicated for me to sit in one of the office chairs. “About six months ago. A friend of mine I used to shoot documentaries with gave me a great discount. It's almost as good as new. I've been freelancing my butt off since I got it.” He pushed a button and booted up the computer. “The system has paid for itself and almost all Latrice's debt already. God is awesome. What's that scripture? He gives us the power to obtain wealth.”

God help me. He's quoting scripture and working around the clock to support his family.
“Wow. How do you do that and raise two daughters and work full-time?”

“I don't get much sleep.” He shrugged. “Who needs sleep? It's highly overrated.”

I ate a huge forkful of spaghetti. “Oh, my goodness, Jason, this is delicious.”

“Yeah, a brother got skills all around. People say I'm a great catch.” He flashed that mischievous grin again.

“Yeah, you're pretty all right.”

“I guess having two daughters and a drama queen ex-wife makes me not much of a catch at all.” Jason slipped the tape into the deck and stared straight at the monitor.

“I wouldn't say that, Jason. Some women don't mind a man with kids. Some might even like it. Especially if they're great kids.” I took a sip of my apple juice.

“Really?” He pulled out the dreamy eyes and dimples on me.

“Really.” I smiled and looked down at my plate.
Oh, dear. Are you flirting back, Michelle? God, please put a stop to this. Now.

Cameron came barreling downstairs screaming, “Daddy, Daddy. Candace took my Dora doll. She says it's hers, but you bought it for me.” Tears streamed down her face.

Candace came rushing down the stairs after her. “I didn't take her stupid doll. And anyway, she took my Hanna Montana microphone and was singing in it. She left her stinky breath all over it.”

Jason looked over at me. “Oh, well. So much for being a great catch.”

I chuckled.

He pulled Cameron onto his lap and beckoned for Candace to come near. “What did I tell you guys I had to do tonight?”

“Get some work done,” they said in unison. Cameron sniffled, and Candace stuck her finger in her mouth.

“And what are you two supposed to do when you're playing in your room?”

“Share,” they said together. Cameron's voice sounded like she was about to cry again.

Jason rubbed her back and kissed her cheek. “And what do I tell you guys when guests come over?”

“Not to embarrass you in front of company,” they said together.

Candace smiled, and Cameron covered her mouth to catch a giggle that escaped.

“And what are you doing?” Jason tickled Cameron and poked Candace's belly.

“Embarrassing you,” they both erupted into full girly giggles.

Candace ran toward the stairs. Cameron jumped off Jason's lap, and he swatted her little behind as she ran after her sister.

“Sorry about that.”

“They're adorable.” My heart ached.

“Yeah, those are Daddy's girls. Too bad you didn't get to have kids. I mean, not too bad because of the way things turned out. I mean . . .” He ran his finger across a picture of his daughters taped on the side of the monitor. “Kids are the biggest joy you could ever experience. You're a great person, and you should get to have that joy one day.”

I was glad my emotions were finely tuned by St. John's wort. Otherwise, I might have burst into tears. I must have had a disturbed look on my face.

Jason looked at me and winced. “Uh-oh. That was probably a real insensitive guy type of thing to say, huh?”

I nodded and put my empty plate on the TV cart and rolled it away from me.

He turned toward the system and started playing the tape. It seemed crazy that the exact point it started was where a group of our inner city girls were gathered around me. We were all laughing and talking, and I had my arms around two of them. Another held up rabbit ears behind my head.

“See. You're great with kids.” He bit his lip and closed his eyes. “Sorry. You mentioned before that you thought you'd be married with kids by now. I don't understand why you're not. I mean, you're a great person, you know. Almost as good of a catch as me.”

I guess he threw in a flirt to try to lighten the moment.

“Okay. I'm gonna sit here and chew on my foot that I can't seem to get out of my mouth.”

I laughed and elbowed him. “It's okay. I do love kids and pray God blesses me to have some one day. Whether I birth them or whether they come as a package with the man God sends, I believe it will happen.”
Oh, God. Did I say that out loud? Now who had their foot in their mouth?

Jason nodded and focused his eyes back on the screen, a grin forming in the corners of his mouth.

Why were we torturing ourselves? With my promotion, I wasn't about to sacrifice my job. And with his daughters, he couldn't afford to sacrifice his. This was a ridiculous game that could only end badly.

“I like that clip. Go back a little,” I said, steering our conversation to the reason we were there.

I would do enough work to say we accomplished something then hightail it out of there. From then on, Jason could edit at home by himself, and I would end the flirty game and touchy-feelyness at the office. I'd had my heart ripped out two months ago and didn't need that to happen again.

Jason pulled the clip and ran through some more tape. “This one's good too.”

I could only hope he was having a similar conversation with himself in his head.

We focused on work for a good hour and completed most of the tape he brought home.

As we got close to finishing, Cameron came down the stairs and slid her feet slowly over to where Jason sat. She sucked her thumb and rubbed her eyes with her other hand. “Daddy, I'm hungry. Can I have a snack?”

He pulled her into his lap and rested his head on top of hers, still staring at the screen. “Where's your sister? Did you ask her?”

“She's drawing.”

Jason rubbed Cameron's belly, clicking the computer mouse with his other hand.

Cameron rested her head back against Jason's chest, thumb still in her mouth. She reached up to pull on his ear with her other hand. He didn't seem bothered by it.

She sucked her thumb and pulled his ear until her eyelids got heavy. Within minutes, she was 'sleep.

“Works every time,” he said softly. “I know I got to break her of this thumb habit. Thinking about using this thumb-sucking deterrent I saw on TV.”

I grimaced, remembering my own battles with my mother over my thumb. She used hot sauce with me. I was mad a whole month the first time my mouth got burned. “She'll grow out of it. Give her some time.”

Candace padded down the stairs and across the room in some pink footy pajamas. She held a piece of paper in her hand with a drawing on it. Jason held out his hand to receive it, but she pulled it back from him. “It's not yours.” She held it out toward me. “It's for Miss Michelle.”

I looked down at the paper. It was a picture of a brown woman with a big wavy Afro and a huge smile. The caption at the top read, “Miss Mishel” in big crayon letters.

It was more than my heart could take. “Oh, Candace. This is beautiful. You did this all by yourself?”

She nodded and tried to hold back a smile.

“Wow. You're a great artist. Is that what you want to be when you grow up?”

She nodded couldn't help but grin. Looked just like her dad.

“Thank you. It'll go on my refrigerator as soon as I get home.” I gave her a hug.

Jason stood up with a sleeping Cameron in his arms and put a hand on Candace's back. “You brush your teeth and wash your face?”

“Yes, Daddy.” She rolled her eyes like she couldn't believe he asked her that.

“Okay, time for bed. Say goodnight to Miss Michelle.”

“Goodnight, Miss Michelle.” She gave me another hug and looked up at my hair. “Can I touch?”

I nodded.

She reached out her hand and touched my hair, softly at first, then her fingers traveled down to the roots. “Your hair is so cool.” She turned to Jason. “Daddy, when I get big, can I wear my hair like Miss Michelle's?”

He chuckled and looked at me. “Yeah. Afros are cool, aren't they?” He pushed her toward the stairs. “Come on. Bedtime.” He turned to me. “Be right back.”

I nodded, but stuffed my papers back in my bag as soon as he got to the stairs. I had to get my poor ovaries home before they exploded.

By the time he came back down from tucking the girls in, I stood waiting by the door with my blue jean jacket on and bag over my shoulder.