We Take this Man (11 page)

My mother was standing in the doorway when I pulled up. She waddled out of the house, carrying a Diet Coke. She smiled from ear to ear as she stuffed herself into my car. “I won big last night.”

“Good, so does that mean you’re treating?”

She cut her eyes at me. I laughed because I was her return on investment. She stopped treating me a long time ago. The last thing she paid for was that high-priced lawyer who saved me from going to jail with Deshaun. I’ve been taking care of her since I graduated. Some things you just get used to.

By the time we left the movies, it was close to eleven and I was completely exhausted. I turned my phone on out of habit. Five new voice messages.

“Hey, Alicia. It’s Dwight. I need you, baby girl.”

My heart dropped. I listened to the rest of the message. “The servers went down and I need you to come in as soon as possible.”

By the fifth message, he sounded desperate. I called back. “Yes, Mr. Wilson.”

“You ain’t gonna believe what happened.”

“I already don’t believe you,” I said, laughing.

“I know you don’t. Honestly, though, the servers are down and if you could come back in, I would owe you one.”

“You already owe me.”

“I know. C’mon, I need you.”

“Why didn’t you call Desiree?”

“Man, I don’t trust her.”

“That’s your damn problem. I’ll be in. I have to drop my mother off first.”

When I hung up, I quickly turned up the stereo. My mother snickered and my head snapped in her direction and I couldn’t resist shouting, “What?”

“You need a job with regular hours.”

“Regular hours can’t pay your bills and mine,” I said, raising my eyebrow.

“Yeah, I know. But you’re never going to have a husband or a family working the way you do.”

Although it was something I put out of my mind a long time ago, her words bothered me. Would I be just like her, never worthy of a good man? Just as it crossed my mind, I thought about Dwight. Why were all the good ones with the wrong woman?

“Why should I get married to get divorced?”

She shook her head. “You’re so tough, aren’t you?”

I zoomed down her street and unlocked the car doors. My brakes screeched as I pulled up in front of her door. “I love you, too, Ma.”

“You know I just want the best for you. You’re all I got.”

Even though she said that all the time, it rattled me. Sure, I had my job and a group of good girlfriends, but did I really want to be fifty-five, hopeless, and alone? I leaned over for a halfhearted hug. “I know. Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

Her face sagged like she hadn’t done all she could do. Like somehow she’d led me wrong. I smiled to lighten the mood. “A’ight, Ma. I gotta go.”

When the light from her foyer peeped from the door, I sped off, back on Route 295, heading toward Annapolis Junction, wondering if my life would amount to nothing but a job. I got off at the Route 198 exit so I could stop at Exxon and grab a few cans of low-carb Monster drinks. I needed something to keep me awake.

Before I got back in the car, Dwight called and asked me to pick something up from Wendy’s for him. He was definitely pushing it, because I was on my last legs and oh-so-tempted to enter my development, as the stone entrance gates were just yards away from where I stood. Instead I hopped in the car and whizzed over to Wendy’s drive-thru.

No matter how many nights I walked into the building from the parking garage, I never felt safe. As usual, I darted from my car into the building and up the stairs. My heart always races even when I swipe my badge on the keypad. I was afraid that the cleaning crew could have carelessly left someone in the closet. As I sprinted to my cubicle, I crashed into Dwight.

I yelled, “Ah!”

He laughed and I felt silly for my paranoia, so I began laughing, too. We giggled uncontrollably for nearly ten minutes. Each time I would stop, he’d start again and vice versa. We leaned back and forth on each other trying to settle the humor until I kissed him. I don’t know what came over me, but maybe I needed him as much as he needed me at the moment. He looked at me, questioning, wondering if this was wrong. And my eyes condoned what we both felt. I kissed him again to assure him that it was okay for two needy people to seek comfort from each other. We’d both sacrificed relationships for the sake of work, and who could understand either of us more than us? In the middle of the office, he held me and pushed my hair from my face. My neck tilted back and I looked at him in awe. He held me in his strong arms and his potbelly poked into my flat stomach.

“Are you scared of this?”

He took a deep breath. “Not anymore. Are you?”

“Dwight, it is what it is.”

I don’t know what got into me, but at that moment I didn’t care about his wife or being a mistress or whether my feelings were right or wrong. It felt good and I couldn’t apologize for it. Losing his friendship for a mere three weeks left a void in me that I didn’t even realize he was filling. So whatever there was to feel—hurt or happiness or temporary satisfaction—I wanted it.

He almost immediately flipped back into work mode, maybe out of nervousness or uncertainty. “Yeah, Alicia. We really have to figure this out.”

“What have you done so far?”

“The usual troubleshooting.”

I followed him back into the server room and he talked about the problem on the way. After he was done, I asked, “What are we going to do about us?”

“I’ve never even considered cheating on my wife, I swear.”

“I know, Dwight, but I don’t believe in fighting what’s natural. I don’t want to be the other woman. I’ve never done anything like this before,” I lied.

“I know and I don’t want to hurt you or tell you that I’m not trying to work on my marriage, because I am.”

“I understand and I realize that everything ain’t forever, but right now I think I want to experience whatever we’re supposed to experience together.”

He took a deep breath. “Alicia, I’ve been trying to fight what I feel and do what’s right, because I believe in marriage. My father wasn’t there and I never wanted to be that man. But it’s hard when you got someone fighting you. I’m getting tired.”

Fatigue covered him and I just wanted to kiss him to let him know it would be okay. Maybe it was his honesty or his sincerity or his schoolboy naïveté that made me want to abandon my no-more-married-men philosophy, but I was ready and open. I didn’t comment, simply observed him.

“Then there’s you. You’re smart and funny. You listen. You watch
SportsCenter
. You know how to express yourself without a whole bunch of yelling and screaming. You’re a football fanatic. I mean, I’m starting to wonder if Tracey and I ever had anything in common.”

Every sensory nerve in my body perked up. He was right where I needed him. Trying not to seem insensitive, I said, “Could it just be cause you guys are so far apart?”

“It could be that, or it could be just that I’ve had blinders on. You know, I always felt like you get married and you just stick it out. Other women were never an option. But I guess when you’re away from home and away from your kids . . .” He sighed deeply, as if that was what pained him most. “You start losing focus and connection, and before you know it, you’re here.” I raised my eyebrow for him to explain, and he continued, “Thinking about how life would be with someone like you.”

“So, one day, you’re happily married, and the next you’re sitting here with me . . .”

“It’s been more than one day since I was happily married. It’s gone downhill from the moment I told her I was moving. All she really cares about is how it affects her. I’m a good man and I know it. I’ve told her several times that she won’t be happy till I’m really gone.”

“So have you guys discussed breaking up?”

“Well she won’t budge. I can’t afford to budge; hell, we
are
going to break up. What do you think?” He reached for my hand and scooted his chair close to mine. “I don’t know, but I’m glad that we’re talking again.”

Talking?
That didn’t really settle well, but he pulled my hand up to his mouth and kissed it. “Maybe some things happen for a reason.”

There were no more words needed to describe this feeling. So I made the suggestion to get back to work and Dwight seemed to appreciate it. We began looking at the problem on the computer. He tapped on the keyboard with one hand and casually kissed our clasped hands. As he tried to track down the problem, I admired him and imagined the possibilities.

We primarily discussed work, but as the hours ticked by rapidly, we certainly got more acquainted. My mind had wandered down between his legs, as he rubbed my back, massaged my shoulders, and stared into my eyes. He was Mr. Right Now. Here and now, his touch felt right even if it was wrong.

We probably would have had the systems up before six in the morning if we weren’t so touchy-feely. It was clear that neither of us planned on coming into work. I went to my desk to put an out-of-the-office message on my screen and Dwight did the same. We rushed out of the building before the early comers caught us. We felt guilty for doing our job.

As we headed out of the building, he asked, “Where you going?”

“Wherever you’re going.” He smiled and walked toward me, as if he thought it would be fine for us to ride together. I shook my head. “Dwight, we need to take separate cars.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. I’ll meet you at Bob Evans.”

“Let’s go to the one near my house.”

As I drove to breakfast, it dawned on me that I hadn’t had a bit of sleep and it would only be a matter of minutes before I crashed. What the hell was I surviving on?

Though Dwight pulled into the parking lot immediately after me, he was standing at my car door before I could get out. The morning show radio hosts had posed a question about the increase of men wearing makeup and if you could handle a man that wore foundation. I unlocked the door after he tugged twice on the handle. I said, “I was listening to something.”

“I know you’re hungry.”

“I am but . . .”

I was interrupted by his arm around my shoulder. We went into the restaurant and I was surprised how many people were there at six-thirty on a weekday morning. They were primarily elderly couples. When I commented about them, Dwight said, “That’s what it’s all for.”

“What?”

“The whole stress of marriage and raising kids is so we won’t grow old alone.”

“That’s not what it’s all for.”

“What do you think is the purpose of stressing yourself out while you’re young and vibrant?”

“For love?”

“You don’t have to get married to be in love.”

“You got a point, but I think marriage is more than just so you don’t grow old alone.”

He laughed. “Okay.”

“Is that why you got married?”

He laughed harder. “I didn’t know that was the purpose when I got married. Now that I’m older and I’ve seen the world, I do believe that whether we accept it or not, that’s the purpose of marriage.”

“I don’t really believe marriage works, but I hope if I ever decided to get married, it would be for more than that.”

He gazed over at an older couple. “We all do. In a perfect world, we’d all get married for the right reasons.”

“It just seems that so many people do it for the wrong reasons, it makes me say, what the hell?”

“Marriage is good when it’s good.” He gasped. “But when it’s bad, it’s bad. You shouldn’t rule it out, though.”

The waiter came over for our drink orders and he ordered hot chocolate. His raised eyebrows questioned the smile on my face. I ordered coffee and faced him. “That’s cute.”

“What?”

“A grown-ass man ordering hot chocolate.”

“My baby girls got me addicted to hot chocolate.”

His eyes lowered like the thought of them made him think about what he was doing here smiling at my face. I looked at the menu so that he wouldn’t feel the need to explain his preoccupation.

When our drinks came, he took a sip and the whipped cream got into his mustache. After we ordered our food, I reached over and dabbed it off with my napkin. He closed his eyes and smiled. “That, too.”

“What?”

“Having someone who cares just as much about your image as you.”

I nodded. “I guess.”

“Marriage ain’t the worst thing in the world. You should reconsider.”

“Why? So that my husband can be sitting at breakfast with the new chick at work?”

His shoulders slouched. “No, because I’d imagine you’d have your man’s back.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Your personality is strong, but you’re supportive. You’re an overachiever, but you don’t have anything to prove. You’re committed to your friends, your mother. It’s the same thing.”

“I just never saw it in my future. I mean . . .”

“You’ve been in long-term relationships?”

My eyes wandered as I nodded. Technically, my only legitimate long-term relationship was to Deshaun and that was ten years ago.

Ignoring my discomfort, he continued, “So what’s the difference?”

“Ah, well. I just think it’s a waste of time. Have you looked at the divorce rate?”

“It’s funny. I would have never pegged you as a punk.”

“What?”

“Sounds like you’re afraid of marriage more than you don’t want to get married.”

“Whatever.”

Our food came and he reached for my hand. I looked down and raised my eyebrow. He smiled. “Let’s pray.”

He gripped tightly as he thanked God for me and our united brainpower in solving problems. I thought that it was a bit much to be asking God to bless our partnership, but it was cute. Before letting go, I smiled at him and he returned the expression.

After breakfast, I planned to just go home alone, but I wanted to lie beside him. Instead of asking what his plans were, I said, “You know, my house is right over there.”

“Yes. I’ma follow you.”

Moments later we were in my condominium, standing awkwardly in my bedroom. In hopes to not be overly aggressive, I slipped into a T-shirt and asked if he wanted one. Probably in an effort to prevent the inevitable, he kept all of his clothes on and told me he didn’t mind sleeping on top of the comforter. That wasn’t exactly how I envisioned it. I told him it was okay for him to get under the covers with me. We lay close, facing each other, and he wrapped his arm around my waist. I stared into his eyes, wondering what attracted me to him. The once distorted, saggy-jaw face now seemed perfectly pleasing and symmetric. Whatever the case, I seemingly was no longer just mentally stimulated. I was physically stimulated, too. I questioned my own actions. Why was I here, slipping, wallowing in this moment in time?