Waiting to Exhale (36 page)

"Wear something sexy, girl. Let him see what he's been missing all these years."

"Like what?"

"Wear that orange dress. You look good in that."

"Maybe I should, huh?"

"And make sure you smell good."

"Thanks, girl. I'll talk to you later."

"Get some for me!" she yelled, and hung up before I had a chance to tell her I wasn't planning on doing anything. But just in case, I sprayed some FDS down there anyway, then tried on the orange dress. It worked. I ran into the bathroom again, poured some Plax into my mouth, and swished it around for about a minute. Since I was wearing orange now, I wiped off the fuchsia lipstick and blush and changed it to tangerine. I was searching in the closet for my shoes, when I heard the doorbell. My heart started pounding so hard I could hear it. Now I was hyperventilating. I had to pant, blowing air rings out of my mouth just to get my bearings. By the time I reached for the doorknob, I was poised.

Some things don't change, I thought, as I opened the door and saw Kenneth standing there. He still looked like a black prince. Why and how I let this go, I'll never know.

"Well, are you gonna let me in?" he said.

I started laughing, but he kept a solemn look on his face.

"Why don't you just stand there for a while," I said, and gave him the once-over. He was wearing a navy-blue suit with a pale-gray shirt and pink tie. He's six two and still looks about two hundred pounds. His hair-even his mustache-had a few strands of gray in it. His skin, which always reminded me of dark chocolate, was still smooth, his nose wide; his lips were full. "You haven't changed a bit," I said.

"Well, you have," he said. "You look better than I remember. The years've definitely agreed with you, Savannah."

He gave me a solid hug and then a peck on the lips. I was glad he didn't take my tongue for granted. "Come on in. Have a seat," I said.

"I see you haven't lost your sense of style," he said, looking around the room. "What are you, a collector now?"

"Sort of," I said, as he walked around examining my artworks.

"You've got some beautiful pieces in here," he said. Then he snickered. "I remember when you couldn't pay your rent."

"You don't have to remind me," I said. I wanted to tell him that I'm still struggling with the rent. Only now I'm paying it in three different places: here, Mama's, and that stupid condo. But what was the point?

"Wow. Who did this?" he said, looking closer at a signature on an abstract.

"John Rozelle. He's a black painter from Saint Louis. This piece really isn't representative of the kind of work he's known for. He does a lot of mixed-media stuff too, but this is one of my favorites. And one I could afford."

"You say he's a brother?"

"Yep."

"I'm glad to hear that. What about these over here? These are incredible."

"That's a Charles Alston, and that one's by Joe Overstreet. It's called a serigraph. This pastel is by Brenda Singletary. That big collage over there was done by Noah Purifoy. This one here," I said, walking over and pointing, "is called a gouache-Joseph Holston did it. The one with the brass masks and kinte cloth is a Frank Frazier, and that abstract is by Lamerol Gatewood."

"You're helping to alleviate the starving artist syndrome then, huh?"

"I'm trying," I said. "If we don't buy their work, who will?" I was glad to be talking about art, something besides me. But I knew it was coming.

"So you're living in Phoenix," he said, and sat down on the couch. He looked so good sitting there, I had to keep my distance. "Are you working out these days or what?"

I looked down at myself. "I just started," I said.

"You still smoking?"

"Unfortunately, yes, but I'm definitely quitting before 1991 rolls around."

"Didn't you say that back in '86?" "Shut up, Kenneth."

"Do you plan on standing over there until we leave? I don't bite, Savannah. Have a seat."

I sat down in a chair across from the couch. "So how do you like the Phoenician?"

"It's pretty as hell from the outside, but the room itself is nothing to scream about. You've been in one nice hotel, you've been in them all."

"So tell me, Kenneth. What've you been doing with yourself?" He crossed his legs, then clasped his hands together over his knee and leaned forward. "Well, let's see. I started my own practice." "Really? You're not at that hospital anymore?" "Nope. As a matter of fact, I've got a staff of ten." "That's great."

"And I've got a three-year-old daughter."

"I heard."

"Who told you?"

"Remember Belinda and Roger?"

"Yep."

"Belinda told me when I was home last summer. You happen to have a picture of her?"

"I'm sure I do," he said, and reached inside his jacket for his wallet. He handed me the picture. The little girl wasn't all that cute, but I lied and said she was adorable. "So what's married life like?" "It has its ups and downs."

"Are you happy? Wait. I forgot. I shouldn't ask you that question, right?"

"Let me put it this way. I couldn't ask for a better mother for my daughter."

"I didn't ask you that, Kenneth."

He looked up toward the ceiling, like he was deep in thought or something. "I guess you could say I love her. But it's not that dee
p p
assionate kind of love. I suppose it's the kind that grows on you."

"Why'd you marry her if you weren't in love with her?"

"Because she was having my child."

"You mean you fell for that?"

"I didn't fall for anything, Savannah."

Maybe I said the wrong thing.

"I'd been dating her off and on for about six months."

I cut him off. "Like you did with me."

"No, you're mistaken. You were the one who was going out with quite a few other men at the same time you were going out with me. If I remember correctly."

"I was not!"

"You were, Savannah."

"How can you say that, Kenneth?"

"Because the only time we went out was when I called and asked you out."

"So?"

"So I assumed you were seeing other men."

"But I wasn't."

"Then why didn't you ever call and ask me to go somewhere?"

"Because you only seemed to call when it was convenient for you, when it seemed like you could fit me into your schedule."

"That's not true, Savannah."

"That's what it seemed like to me."

"What you're saying is that we both assumed wrong."

"Maybe. But, Kenneth, let's face it. You weren't exactly the most communicative man in the world. I never knew how you felt about me."

"Well, I didn't know how you felt about me, either."

"That's my point. I couldn't keep going out with you and playing a guessing game, and I wasn't about to come right out and ask you, either."

"Why not?"

"Because I would've felt like a fool. I've never had to ask a man how he feels about me. It's usually obvious."

"Didn't I treat you with respect and admiration?"

"Admiration? I didn't want to be admired, Kenneth. I wanted you to love me. Let me shut up. You just got here. It's been a long time. Forget I just said that. Are you hungry?"

"No," he said, grinning at me. "Not now."

"Don't look at me like that."

"I'm not looking at you like that. Tell me something, since we're clearing the air here. How did you feel about me?"

I didn't want to answer that. "I can't remember."

"Bullshit."

"I'll put it this way: I was quite smitten by you."

"Smitten?"

"What do you expect me to say? That I was madly in love with you?"

"That would be nice to hear."

"What difference does it make now, Kenneth? We're talking about two thousand years ago. You're sitting in my apartment in Phoenix, Arizona, in 1990, married as you want to be, with a kid, no less, and you want me to sit here and confess?"

"I was in love with you," he said.

I like to died when I heard him say that. But he was just fucking with me, and I knew it. He was saying this so I'd give him some. He probably had this whole thing planned out. But it wasn't going to work. "No you weren't," I said.

"I was too."

"Then why didn't you act like it?"

"I just told you. I didn't want to make a fool out of myself, either. I thought you were playing it cool, since you were this sexy, pretty young thing running around Boston. I knew you had hundreds of men you could choose from, so I called myself playing it safe."

"Well, you did a pretty good job of it. And for your information, I have never dated more than one man at a time. It's not my style. If I'm sleeping with you, I'm not going to be sleeping with anybody else. I'm a one-man-at-a-time kind of woman. And plus, if we're doing it right, I won't want to sleep with anybody else."

"So were we doing it right?"

"Why do you think I used to get so mad at you?" I said, and started laughing. "I'd be waiting for your black ass to call me, and finally, when you did, you'd talk about some damn article in Newsweek and then tell me to have a nice day. Like it was business. I wanted to kill you sometimes, I swear. Can I kill you now, for all the anxiety and heartache you caused me?"

"Come over here and do it now," he said, and he was actually cackling. I started cracking up too. He got serious all of a sudden. Which I didn't want him to do. I don't think. "I'm really glad to hear this, Savannah. It's a shame it took so long for me to find out how you felt."

"It's okay. You live and learn," I said.

We sat there like fools for about a minute. "Why'd you want to see me?" I asked.

"Because I haven't seen you in years, that's why. I wanted to see how you were doing. And I can see you're doing just fine."

"So leave now. Bye," I said.

He snickered again. "Aren't you hungry?"

"No," I said, and I wasn't. Just like the good old days, he could still spoil my damn appetite. At least for food.

"So what else can we do?"

"I'll tell you what we're not going to do."

"Am I acting like I'm trying to seduce you?" he asked, and leaned back on the couch. "That's why you're so wired, huh? You thought I was coming over here to try to get some for old time's sake, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"And all you're thinking about is the fact that I'm married now, and you have no intention of sleeping with a married man, right?" "Right."

"Well, you can relax, Savannah," he said. "I just wanted to see you."

He didn't even want to sleep with me? He's still the same, I thought. Wishy-washy. "Well, you want to go somewhere and have a drink?" I said.

"I don't care," he said. "We can stay here, unless you just want to go out. I'm serious, Savannah. I'm really glad to see you."

I wish he'd stop saying that. "There's nothing to do here," I said.

"We can talk," he said, and gave me what I thought was a seductive smile. I wish he would stop doing that shit.

"I think I'd feel more comfortable talking to you in a public place," I said. "Come on, Kenneth, get up."

He got up and stood directly in front of me, close enough that I could smell his breath. It smelled good, so good that I backed away from him.

"You feel like driving up to Sedona with me in the morning?"

"Now, that I can handle."

"Then why don't we do this. I'm whipped. I caught that red-eye out here, I've only had four hours of sleep since Thursday, so I think I'll go on back to the hotel, take a hot shower, and fall out. I'll pick you up about seven."

"In the morning?"

"Yeah. Is that okay?"

"Why so early?"

"So we can have all day," he said, and kissed me on my nose.

I wish he wouldn't do that shit, either. "Okay," I said. "But just don't get any ideas."

"I'm full of ideas," he said, and headed out the front door.

I thought I was going to pass out. Right there on the floor. And of course I was starving now, so I went into the kitchen and called Pizza Hut, ordered a medium vegetarian pizza, made myself a salad, and when the pizza arrived thirty minutes later, I ate the whole thing.

I was taking off my dress when the phone rang.

"Savannah?" Kenneth said in a low voice. I wish he'd stop saying my name like that. "Are you asleep?"

"No. It's only ten o'clock. I usually don't go to bed until after the news. What's up?"

"I just wanted you to know that I really didn't want to leave," he said.

I swallowed hard. "Well, to tell the truth, Kenneth, I didn't want you to, either."

"You didn't?"

"Nope."

"Is it too late to come back over?"