When You Come to Me (24 page)

“He’s fine…really fine,” Sidney said.

“You already said that, Sidney,” Maya retorted.

“Well…I’m saying it again...he’s fine.”

“He’s Christian,” Mama said. “Christian boys are always good-looking.”

“Not Darius,” Maya laughed. “No wonder he always sat in the back row.”

“Or under his grandma…”

Sidney and Maya laughed.

“He is cute,” Granny said. “A cute little negro…too light-skinned though…he got white folks in his family? He looks like he got white in his blood.”

“Is he mixed, Natalie?” Mama asked. “He does look a little mixed…”

“Does it matter?” Maya asked. “He’s cute.”

“Exactly,” Sidney said. “Like I said…”

“Looks like your Uncle Gerald has a new fishing partner,” Granny said.

“Or someone to run his mouth off to about Aunt Miriam,” Maya said. “I don’t know why they aren’t divorced as much as they fight…”

“They love each other,” Granny said plainly. “If you love someone, you stick it out…”

That night, while her family played gin rummy in the kitchen, they sat on the couch in the living room of the bungalow on Green Hill Street and watched a movie.

“Clearwater,” he began awkwardly.

She turned to him. “What…as in Florida?”

He nodded. “I hear it’s really nice around this time of year.”

“Can you afford to take the time off?”

“I haven’t taken a vacation in years.” He never took his eyes off of the television. “And you look stressed.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve been weighing those med school options for weeks.”

“I want to go to a good school.”

A slight pause followed, then Ant said, “We leave next Wednesday.”

“What? Anthony…”

“All taken care of, sweet pea…oceanfront room at the Sheraton…dinner cruise that night…maybe a walk on the beach beforehand…”

“
Anthony
…”

“You’ll have fun…we’ll have fun…and I finally want to see what you look like in a bathing suit.”

They traveled together on a warm day, where the sun was shining, Ant’s smooth music playing over the radio.

He booked the suite on the top floor overlooking the sea, and she stood on the veranda for several minutes following their arrival, and watched the waves.

“We should go walking,” Anthony Jones told her, reaching for her hand.

They held hands on the beach, he made her laugh, and her brown toes dug deep into the sand below her and she strode carefully beside caramel-toned, pretty-smiled Anthony.

“It’s a cheesy dinner cruise,” he laughed, the sound of the rolling shoreline around them. “Expensive, but cheesy…”

“I don’t care…I really don’t care…let’s do it,” she told him, surprising herself when she initiated the kiss between them.

She wore her favorite dress that night; a pretty white one with big red flowers all over it. And she wore her hair in that low, messy bun that Ant loved.

He was behind her, holding onto her waist as they boarded the StarLite Majesty, a white yacht with tented windows and three decks, the sun setting over the horizon, the balmy smell of salt in the air. They were given an assigned table shortly after boarding on the top deck, beside the hardwood dance floor. Ant sat her down first, him second, a single votive candle between them, and the pink-smeared scope of dusk to her right, falling slowly over Tampa Bay.

They were handed menus, soft music of the live entertainment began to play, and shortly after, they were setting sail. Natalie began to feel the sway of the ship beneath her, glancing at Ant across the table, who studied his menu silently.

“I like the chicken,” he said randomly to her, moments later, keeping his eyes glued firmly in the menu.

She glanced at her own menu, replying, “Yes, that looks good, darlin’…”

“Is that what you want?” Ant asked her, placing his menu down.

“Yes, the chicken is fine,” she smiled. “I’ll take the chicken.”

“And wine? Do you want wine?”

“Whatever tastes good with chicken.”

“Pinot…Pinot Grigio, definitely.”

“Pinot Grigio, it is, then…”

A waiter handed Natalie a glass of the Pinot Grigio and swallowed the contents of it shortly following its arrival, hearing Anthony talk about his attendees, still feeling that sway, still gripping the empty glass between her boney fingers.

Tenth months
, she reminded herself, summoning the waiter again…
yes, that’s right, pour me another glass, don’t be selfish…

She glanced out towards the bay, saw the falling sun hide beneath the horizon, felt the breeze cool her warm brown skin, wondered how, in the scope of her twenty-one years of life, that she’d ever get to a moment like this, that Anthony Jones, as fine and as brilliant and as talkative as he was, would find her one day. It was hard to believe that one year later, she’d allow herself to realize, somewhat at least, his slight significance, that yes, maybe (just maybe) she loved him too, finally…

She reached for his hand across the table as darkness fell, as his brown skin glowed under the warm light of the candle. Yes, she would work with this, wouldn’t she? She would allow him to love her. And she would allow herself to love him too. She would find some undiscovered nook in her soul that could reach out to him.

Yes, she had to.

He smiled. “Ten months, Natalie Chandler…”

“Ten months, Anthony Jones,” she replied with a smile.

“You look amazing….”

“Likewise…”

“I love you,” he told her, squeezing her hand.

“And I love you too…” she responded.

“Aren’t you glad that you came to Clearwater?”

“So far,” she said with a sigh. “We have three more days to go…have any more surprises up your sleeve?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes, I would…I’ve come to hate surprises…”

That didn’t stop Anthony from pulling her out of her chair as soon as the band started, following a long line of the elderly that had already started heading in that direction.

“Come on, sweet pea,” he said, smiling majestically. “Don’t be so shy…get up here and dance with your man…”

It was then that she wished she’d finished that second glass a wine, so a third could have been brought out to her, so she wouldn’t have to suffer through the embarrassment of dancing in front of all these people. She didn’t think that her stomach would take it.

But, she had to remind herself of her mission to love him, to appreciate him, to do whatever made him happy. And, if dancing made him happy, then she’d dance with her boyfriend.

He pulled her close, smiling, her hair a product of a gale behind her, her dress following.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered close to her face, his breath warm, her insides churning. “Did I tell you that?”

“
Amazing
, yes…beautiful, no…”

“Beautiful…definitely beautiful…”

“Well…thank you,” she said. “I always enjoy your compliments…keep them coming…”

“Well…you deserve them,” he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “I thought you would have known that by now…?”

She leaned in to kiss him. And in the balmy climate, in the peace of the breeze, she enjoyed his full brown lips.

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” he whispered into her face.

“What isn’t?”

“You and I…this trip…this weather…”

“Yea, it’s kind of nice…”

“You can say ‘Thank you, Ant’…”

“Thank you…” she smiled.

He kissed her.

Something about his grasp on her made her feel certain euphoria then, inhaling his nearness, hearing the melodic music from the band play.

Ten months? Really?

Her chin found his shoulder blade, her thoughts nonexistent and his large brown hands gripping her tighter. This moment reminded her of why she’d fallen in love.

“You’re the one, Nat,” he whispered. “I really think you’re the one for me…”

Her insides froze.

She continued to sway with him, portraying herself as nonchalant, hoping that she heard the wrong thing, hoping he didn’t say what she thought he said.

Why did people have such a hard time leaving things the way they were? Why did he have such a hard time with the way things were with them? Would he be prepared if she ran away? Hearing that didn’t necessarily make her want to love him
more
. Maybe he thought that all girls loved hearing that. Didn’t he know by now that she wasn’t any ordinary girl? She only hoped that he didn’t have to learn the hard way.

She couldn’t look at him.

And Natalie Chandler stared straight ahead of her, the band started a new song, and Anthony Jones began to twirl her around wildly, his feet moving miraculously to the beat.

“My Mama taught me to dance this way,” he bragged to her.

She only nodded, became numb in his presence, felt the elderly crowd around them slowly stop dancing and encircle them, and she looked out toward the crowd for comfort, saw that all eyes were on them, for whatever reason.

Natalie’s eyes focused on only a pair, ones she came to recognize more than her own, bluer than the water below them. She attempted to believe it as more than mere coincidence; attempted belief period.

She was almost sure that Brandon Greene was staring at her from the seated crowd, was sure that the look in his eyes matched the disbelief that encompassed her.

Warmth filled her body again and Ant twirled her round once more. She attempted to readjust her focus.

Yes, her eyes were playing trick on her.

She blinked her eyes feverishly but saw only his eyes again, then his face came into focus, then his startling broad shoulders, clothed in black, then the goddess Sophia, remarkable in a glittering black dress, who, luckily, did not see her.

She pulled away from Anthony, said only, “I’ll be back,” and headed towards the lower deck in an attempt to get away.

God, to only get away…

She went to the lowest level, closest to the water, found a railing, found silence, gripped the railing and took a deep breath. She allowed the shock to cover her, fill her body with unease, and she reminded herself that once upon a time, she was sure that she’d never see him again.

“Shoot, shoot, shoot!” she forced between clenched teeth in whisper, exhaling deeply, stomping her right foot.

She figured that if she ever saw him again, she’d march right up to him, tell him off, slap him across the face for abandoning her and be about her way. She’d just as quickly walk away from him as he did her over a year ago. If it was so easy for him, shouldn’t it be the same for her?

She began to pace as the sky melted away into a bluish-black, her face hidden in shadow, the wind in her hair, the sound of the current below her.

“Shoot, shoot, shoot…”

She knew that she sounded crazy, but she was alone and didn’t care. She wanted to erase his image.

Erase, discard, be done with.

It was easier. So much easier.

She started in the other direction when, standing eerily in the falling shadow, Brandon emerged, startling her, causing her to suck in her breath, and backtrack slightly.

He walked toward her steadily. His eyes never left her face.

It was then that time stopped, if only for a second, so that she could get readjusted to the curves and the lines of his face, the smell of his proximity, to the idea that part of her still remained with him. It was dream-like, his presence seemed, reminding her of the time where her feelings toward him were clearcut and seemingly everlasting, a time where she couldn’t imagine him going anywhere, a time where she couldn’t imagine loving anyone else as much as she loved him.

She broke her stillness and began to pace again, in hopes of ignoring him. But she felt the nervousness ride the length of her body.

The ignoring failed miserably.

She glanced at him periodically through her pacing: the way he stood there, in all his beauty, never looking more masculine, more sure of himself, more daunting.

She was just as fearful of his presence as she'd been those years ago...

And it angered her just enough to where she lunged out in an attempt to slap him across the face. But he quickly intercepted her spontaneous action as though he'd anticipated it, grabbing her arms to restrain her.

She fought him a little but quickly reminded herself of how strong he was.

She stopped struggling, and his forehead found hers…

Natalie fought the urge to cry as he loosened the grip on his arms.

But it was only a matter of time before he got settled into her, releasing a slow, smooth breath. It was at this point that she was able to break free of his grasp, flatten her palm and slam it into his cheek.

He took a step back and glared at her, rubbing his cheek soothingly. He then cleared his throat uncomfortably. She internally begged him not to look at her that way, dreadfully awaiting the moment that she'd finally come undone in front of him.

It was only a matter of seconds before she crumbled into tears. That instant she hated him, hated everything about him, hated the way he made her feel inside, hated that even after a year, he still affected her.

“Meet me on Pass-a-Grille Beach after midnight…” he whispered.

He talked to her as if he still understood her, as if time was never a measure between them.

Ha…

And he started to walk away. “You must be out of your mind if you think that I’m going to come anywhere near you and that godforsaken beach!”

He continued walking, disappearing into the darkness as he had come.

#

“Are you feeling alright? You’re looking a little…
green
…”

He loved playing doctor even when he wasn’t in the hospital, huh?

She stood by Anthony in the bathroom, glared into the mirror like a zombie while he, completely unaware of the events on the yacht, simply brushed his teeth at eleven that night, like always, right on time. He only asked if she was okay when he felt that she wasn’t listening to one of his many doctoral anecdotes, of which it seemed he had an endless supply.

Natalie looked at him, smiled artificially and nodded, “Yes, darlin’, I’m alright…”

“Glad to hear it,” he told her, spitting out the remainder of toothpaste in his mouth. He reached for her arm, rubbed it a little, pulled her into his body, and gave her a slow embrace, kissing the side of her face.