Before I Let Go (10 page)

As Nate jumped into the car he felt his phone vibrating. He looked down to see who it was, hoping that it wasn’t Sahleen calling to say she was on her way already, or even worse to say that she couldn’t make it. He didn’t recognize the number.

The voice on the other end answered, “Well, hello.”

“Who is this?” Nate asked.

There was quick laughter as she spoke. “You mean to tell me that you’re so popular that you can’t even remember who you have given your number to? This is India. I met you at the gas station last Saturday evening.”

Oh damn, I almost forgot all about you
, Nate thought but didn’t dare say. Instead, he offered, “Oh damn, girl, I’ve been thinking about you since we met. I’m glad you finally called.”

“Yeah, right. Well, why didn’t you call me? Don’t start off lying.”

Nate started in on her anyway. “No, really, I have been thinking about you. I would’ve called, but I’ve been out of town since Monday.” He sounded so convincing that he figured, why stop there. “I just got back in town today. I was going to call you tonight.”

“Is that so?” India asked sarcastically.

“Yeah,” Nate answered. Then he went on, “So what’s going on this weekend? I wouldn’t mind hooking up with you on Friday or Saturday if you’re free.”

“As a matter of fact I am free. So, where are you taking me?” India asked.

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll come up with something that you will enjoy.”

“Now Nate, I’m not sure if that sounds proper,” she said.

“You, bastard!” Nate shouted.

“Pardon me?” India asked, taken aback.

“No, not you, this jerk just cut me off as I was trying to pull out of this parking lot.” Nate added, “Excuse me. I suffer from an occasional bout of road rage.”

“Yeah, okay. Maybe you should talk to a professional about that.” She laughed. “Would you like to call me later?” she continued.

“Well, actually, I might be tied up later, but if it’s not too late when I get in I could call you,” Nate replied. He turned the radio down as he reached into one of the plastic grocery bags to pull out the Pringle’s potato chips.

“I should be up pretty late. If you want to call me later that will be fine.”

Her voice was soft, and sexy. Nate thought she sounded like Nia Long, which was a definite turn-on for Nate.

“Well, don’t rush a nigga off the phone. I have a minute now, miss,” Nate said, trying to sound cool. “So, has a brother been on your mind or what?”

“Pardon me?”

“Is that your favorite line? Pardon me?” Nate asked.

“It is when people make wild remarks out of the clear blue sky,” she said.

“Well, Miss India, what I really want to know is, what is a fine sister like yourself doing unattached. You did say that you were unattached when we met, right?”

“Well, actually, I just got out of a two-year relationship this past September.”

“Oh, well, you’re probably just playing the field right now, huh?”

“No, to be honest I’ve only dated one person since then, and it was nothing serious.”

“Is that by choice or just the way the cookies are crumbling right now?”

“I guess you could say it is by choice, Nate. I just want to make sure that the next time I get serious I have the right man for the job.”

Nate paused, then changed the subject. “So, where do you live, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I actually live in Landover with my mother right now. I moved home after my relationship ended,” India explained.

“Oh, you were living with your friend, huh? So who got the Sony when you two split?” Nate asked in a joking tone.

“I paid for everything, so I took everything. It’s in storage right now while I’m looking for a new place. I’m thinking Mitchellville or Forestville, maybe. But either way I’m out of here by December one. Moms is driving me crazy.”

Nate figured that she was trying to justify living at home, but he didn’t care where she lived, as long as she had a car and someplace to go when he finished with her at his house. Nate continued to chitchat with her until he reached his complex. He waved at the man in the security booth as he waited for the gate to open. He quickly said his goodnights to India and promised to call her the next day to set up their date for the weekend.

Nate strolled up to his building and looked back over his shoulder when he heard a horn beep behind him. He looked back and saw a silver Acura coupé pulling up. The window went down. It was Kim. She shouted, “What’s up, negro? You got a problem with your cell or something? I have called you at least six times today.”

Nate was both shocked and stunned at this surprise visit. “What the hell?” he asked himself.

Nate couldn’t believe that, for one, she had made it through the gate, and two, that she had the audacity to show up at his spot unannounced. As he approached her car she could see how tight his face was. Kim didn’t care, though. She was tired of being used by Nate. She started to get out of the car, but Nate pushed her back in.

He said, “Look here, Kim. I don’t know what in the hell possessed you to come over here uninvited, but whatever it is you were smoking, you had better flush the rest. You know I don’t play this shit. You are seriously violating.” Nate pointed toward the gate, as if to say “get the hell out of here” without opening his mouth.

“I don’t want to hear that shit, Nate. I am tired of this. You call me when you are bored, or when none of your other bitches want to be bothered. You expect me to come over here and screw you at one o’clock in the morning, and leave at seven. You want me to drive over here in the rain, go to the damn grocery store, or clean your damn apartment up, but you don’t want me to show up over here when I want to see you.” Her voice was shrill and biting. “Trina told me everything, Nate. I know about the other bitches. She told me that I should leave your ass alone and that you are just using me, but that’s alright, you haven’t heard the last of me,” she said, as she began to cry. She slammed her car into reverse before Nate had a chance to respond.

“The nerve of that chick,” Nate mumbled as he walked into the building, not wanting to admit that she had put him a little on edge. A pissed-off, psycho stalker is just what Nate needed in his life right now. He figured that he would have to smooth things over with Kim tomorrow, maybe even take her out for lunch.

As he was putting groceries away it dawned on him that he was feeling a little guilty about the way he’d been treating Kim lately. She was a nice girl. She was definitely attractive, and had a body that was tight with a capital T. She always kept a few dollars in her pocket, unlike so many of the gold diggers running around town. She was a top stylist up at The True You Hair Salon in Wheaton. To be honest, she had it going on. Plenty of brothers tried to kick it with Kim, but she was stuck on Nate. She wasn’t loose like Trina: Kim was a real lady, but Nate treated them all the same. It didn’t matter to him.

It was almost
seven, and Sahleen had phoned to say she was on the way over from her Crystal City apartment. Nate had finished cooking, the salad was on the table, and the candles were lit. He had showered and groomed. He had lathered up extra good with his Bath & Body Works peach-scented soap. His cologne was blending with it perfectly. The apartment smelled like the inside of a scented candle shop. He was ready. He had on a pair of Diesel jeans and a Calvin Klein undershirt. His platinum necklace was tucked inside his shirt; the boxing glove charm with the 6-karat diamonds usually brought questions that Nate wasn’t up to answering just yet. He found himself in a mood to just lie back and chill with Sahleen. He wanted to ask her questions. He wanted to hear everything about her life and her career. He found his sudden interest in her surprising. For the first time in a long time he was curious about more than just the physical.

Sahleen arrived and
was pleasantly surprised by the aroma of gourmet cooking coming from the kitchen. She noticed how clean his apartment was, and with the mention of his obvious skills in the kitchen another plus, she joked with Nate that he would make someone a good husband someday. He had definitely put his best foot forward for Sahleen. Nate pulled out her chair, fixed her plate, and then cleared it when she was finished. He’d poured her wine and convinced her to lay on the couch with her feet up while he washed the dishes. He was a perfect gentleman, and had done everything right. Sahleen relaxed and tried to remember the last time she had been treated in such a manner by someone she found truly appealing.

When Nate finished in the kitchen he joined Sahleen in the living room.

“I really enjoyed the dinner, Nate. You impressed me, I have to admit.”

Nate, feeling full of himself, just smiled and sipped his glass of wine.

“I’m going to have to go soon, Nate. My plane leaves at seven in the morning.”

Nate looked at the clock and said, “It’s only eight-thirty. How much beauty rest does a woman of your beauty require?” Nate asked sarcastically, then added, “You can sleep here and get up in time to go grab your bags.”

“Well, I don’t have much to pack, but I haven’t even gathered the things that I do need to take, and Mobley will send a car to pick me up at six-fifteen.” Sahleen was still lying back on the couch as she went on about how she was not looking forward to the long day she was guaranteed to have to work the next day. She explained that the fashion show she was doing in Manhattan was going to be videotaped and would be shown on the Style Channel. She was especially proud that the proceeds from the event were going to the victims of the terrorist attacks and the Red Cross. Everyone in the industry would be there, and it would be closed to the general public. Only those who knew somebody on the inside could get tickets.

Nate realized that if he didn’t make a move soon Sahleen would be ready to leave without breaking him off a piece. He decided to move their party of two to the bedroom. Nate walked into the bedroom and pretended to look for something, and then he yelled out for Sahleen to come in. When she came to the room she found Nate in nothing but his underwear and baby oil.

Sahleen laughed out loud, and said, “Man, you are tripping. What happened to your clothes?”

Nate laughed also and lit a candle. After he started the CD player and walked toward her, he said, “Isn’t this how you did it the other night? What’s wrong?” I hope you don’t have a problem with a man making the first move. Do you?” His voice dropped a few octaves, and he was now in his bedroom form. “You’re not one of those types of women, are you?” Before she could answer the lights were flipped off, his body was pressing up against hers, and his lips and tongue were sliding across her neck.

“N…n…no,” Sahleen muttered, as she slowly leaned her head back and allowed her body to answer Nate’s advances. Then she whispered, “No problem at all.”

T
here’s a certain excitement you feel when you’re traveling on the interstate and you realize the next exit is your destination. This time it was a one-way trip. I was actually moving back home to D.C., so the feelings were multiplied. Inside I had a swirl of emotions, nearly all good, as I exited I-95 in Laurel and headed toward my mother’s house. I would be spending my first three nights there until I got some furniture and moved into my apartment. The next day was Thanksgiving, after all, and as good an excuse as any to be under my mom’s roof for a couple of days. Not that I ever needed an excuse to stay with my moms. If she had her way, I would be there even longer.

The first thing I noticed as I pulled into the driveway was the large amount of leaves scattered all over the yard and walkway. It looked as though no one in the entire neighborhood had decided to rake theirs, either. The section of Laurel Mom lived in was tidy and quiet. The lawns were neat but not in the obsessive kind of way that other truly upscale neighborhoods tend to demand. If every house had leaves on the grass it was probably safe to assume that recent winds had put them there. Mr. Fields from across the street usually came over and raked Mom’s leaves so he could bag them up and make fertilizer with them.

The air was crisp and far easier to breathe than it had been when I had been home in the summer. I knew it was just a matter of time before I would be dealing with the unpredictable D.C. winter weather. I hadn’t had to deal with any real snow in five years, but I knew that that would soon change. The winter weather in Washington, D.C., is no joke. Now, of course, it’s nothing compared to Chicago or Boston, but the average person will freeze their buns off dealing with D.C. weather from December, and sometimes November, right on through March. I was going to have to do some serious winter shopping on Friday. There were bound to be sales galore, since it was the official start of the Christmas shopping season. I needed plenty of winter gear, because the thickest coat I owned was a medium-weight ski jacket that Paula had bought me the previous year, and I didn’t own a pair of thermals.

As I was pulling my garment bag out of the trunk, the front door of the house swung open. “Hey, Grandma,” a voice yelled out, “Uncle Cory is here.” Kyle came running out the door and straight to me.

“Hey, what’s happening, l’il man?” I said, as I embraced my nephew. “It looks like you grown an inch since I’ve seen you last.”

“No, not quite a whole inch, but my feet have grown to a size seven and a half.”

“Is that big for the sixth grade?” I asked, not having a clue.

“Kind of. But there’s this kid named Leonard who wears a ten and a half. He has the biggest feet in the school.”

I closed the door to my car, and with the garment bag slung over my shoulder and my overnight bag in my hand, I headed toward the door. Mom was waiting in the doorway for us.

“Hey, baby.” My mother greeted me with a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. “How was your trip?” she asked. Without waiting for my answer she looked at Kyle and said, “I thought I told you about running outdoors without your coat. Your momma can’t afford to take off from work to run you to the doctor’s for something you can prevent. Do you understand me, Kyle Dandridge?”

“Yeah,” he answered, in a slightly dejected manner.

“Kyle,” I said, “that is not how you respond to your grandmother, or any adult, for that matter. What do you say?”

“I mean, yes ma’am, Grandma.”

“Okay, then. You boys have a seat in the family room. I’ll bring down some food for you. Kyle has been waiting for you to get here to eat. I told him it was going to be close to eight when you got here, but he didn’t care. So wash up, and I’ll be there in a bit.”

I went upstairs to put my bags down, and took a seat on the bed while I removed my Timberlands. As I looked around my room my eyes glanced at my high school diploma. Instantly I thought of how Moms had switched to the night shift at the hospital so that she could be available to drive me to private school and pick me up until I turned sixteen and could get my driver’s license. She had said that my father had always planned for me to go to Dematha, which is one of the top private high schools in both academics and sports in the country. Pops had saved for years so that there would be no cutbacks around the house. He had said, “If we always live within our means, then when it is time for you to go to high school and for Brenda to go to college, there won’t be any big savings crunches.”

It turned out that that money would not be needed to pay for me to go to a private school. Pops passed away from colon cancer during the spring of my eighth-grade year. Being the responsible man he had always set out to be, he had nearly two hundred thousand dollars worth of life insurance policies for Moms and us. My mother never even had to touch the money my father had saved. With the insurance money, Mom had been able to pay off the house and send me to private school, and had I not gotten an academic scholarship to Morgan State University in Baltimore, she could easily have paid for me to go there. Brenda had gone to Howard University and commuted. Howard had been far more expensive than Morgan State. Looking back, I was glad to have been able to save my mother the cost of the tuition.

Losing my father was the saddest experience of my life. I remember it was a cold February day when I was called down to the office at school. Brenda was sitting there waiting for me, and my uncle Freddie was in the car. I knew something was wrong the minute I saw Brenda’s face. Usually, nothing much fazed her. She was sixteen and deep into her own adolescent world of makeup, boys, and going to go-gos, where live bands such as Chuck Brown & the Soul Searchers, Rare Essence, or Experience Unlimited were playing.

Her face in the office that day, though, was shaken and scared, and the way Uncle Freddie drove to the hospital I didn’t need to ask if my father was in bad shape or not. When we reached his room on the sixth floor my mother was sitting on a chair beside the bed and Earline, Freddie’s wife, was standing beside her holding her hand.

I remember Mom asking Freddie and Earline to excuse us so that we could be alone with our father. I still didn’t expect that those would be the last four minutes of his life. It seemed as though he had waited for Brenda and me to get there to be by our mother’s side and for him to see us. I noticed that the tubes in his nose that had been there on my previous visit on Sunday afternoon were gone. I remember my mother being strong while Brenda and I cried like babies watching his every strained breath. When he stopped breathing, his mouth slightly ajar, his face shocked and lifeless but his body still surprisingly warm, my mother didn’t call a nurse for five minutes. She just stood over him and stroked his hair and kissed his face. She asked us to get on our knees and give thanks to the Almighty God that we had been fortunate enough to have our father’s presence as long as we had, that he had been a good man, husband, and father. We did, but I remember being mad at God, although I would never say it out loud. My mother had explained weeks before that there would be no prolonged use of life-support systems. She later would tell us that she and my father had always agreed that whoever reached that path first, the other would not allow any machines or technology to keep them alive. “When my maker is ready for me, I will meet him gladly and without reservation,” she said. She also made us promise that day that when her time came we do the same thing. We did.

I could hear
Kyle exiting the bathroom and running back down the stairs, the same way that I used to. I got up from the bed and looked in the mirror. Although I knew I wasn’t going to be living here in this house with my mother, I knew that I was home. I knew that this is where I belong, eating my mother’s cooking and raking her leaves for her, and teaching Kyle how to cut the grass and wash a car. Suddenly I felt relieved. I wasn’t exactly sure what it was I was relieved about, but I felt as though a big weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I could have floated right up to the ceiling. Where I had always been bogged down in Atlanta with thoughts of home without actually being homesick, I was now feeling quite weightless. If anything went wrong, or if anyone needed me, I would be here to fix it. I could be responsible like Pops had been. If Mom didn’t want to take money from me for things, I could just go out and spend it on her if I chose to do so.

I had my
feet up on the ottoman and a TV tray in front of me. CNN was showing continued coverage from Ground Zero and footage from the battle being waged in Afghanistan. I switched to
Comic View
.

I was washing down my second helping of chicken and dumplings with a huge cup of cherry Kool-Aid. I was feeling fat.

“Ma, I am going to have to join a gym quickly. I can see right now what I am in for up here.”

Kyle was looking at me, smiling and agreeing without talking. He was sitting over in my father’s reclining seat with his feet up, revealing the brown bottoms of his dirt-riddled tube socks. He had eaten a healthy portion as well.

“Are you ready for dessert, fellas?” Mom asked.

“No, thanks,” I answered. “Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I’ll need to save some room for that, right?”

“What about you, Kyle?” she asked, as she took both of our plates and headed to the kitchen.

“No, I’m full. But can I have some later?” he asked.

“Later you can get it yourself. I’ll be asleep. You know I am bushed, Kyle. I have been cleaning up since seven o’clock this morning. Cory, I’m going to get into bed. If you need any extra blankets…”

“I know where they are, Ma.”

“No, I was going to tell you that I washed them all today. They are in the laundry room on the table. Oh, I am so sorry. I almost forgot to tell you that Nate called you just before you got in. He wanted you to hurry and get back to him, something about a big party downtown.”

“I think that’s where my mother is going,” Kyle added.

“Who knows?” Mom replied.

“Well, I’ll call him back. I’m kind of tired, though.”

“Son, you should get out and see your friends. You can sleep in tomorrow. Kyle is probably going to keep you up all night playing video games if you stay in tonight, anyway.”

“Yeah, Uncle Cory. I just got an Xbox.”

“How’d you manage that? I heard those things were hard to get.”

“Yeah, they are. But my mom gave Nate the money and he got it for me. He must have stood in line all night,” Kyle stated, gratefully.

“I’ll bet he did,” I answered, knowing better. Nate had more hookups than Hustle Man.

“So, you want to play
Madden 2002?
”

“That sounds great, Kyle, but let me call Nate back and see what he is talking about.”

“Yeah, I might crush you too bad anyway. We can play tomorrow before the Cowboys come on. Do you know who they play?”

“They play the Broncos,” I answered. “Who are you rooting for? And hand me the cordless phone, please.”

“You know I like the Cowboys just like you. Even though we’re not doing too hot this year.”

“And it won’t be easy trying to stop Denver.”

I dialed Nate’s number and heard my mother yell down from the top of the steps for Kyle to turn the television down. He was playing video games and had become oblivious to everything that was going on around him.

“Turn it down. Didn’t you hear your grandmother?” I barked, while trying to listen to Nate at the same time. I was beginning to notice that Kyle had become a little hardheaded. Nothing major. He just wasn’t as focused on authority as I felt he should be. It was a problem I welcomed the challenge of helping him overcome.

“So you said you already have me a ticket, huh?” I replied, getting my attention back to Nate.

“Yeah, man, and they are sold out. These brothers that call themselves the Positive Black Man’s Coalition are throwing the party. They throw this party every year. It’s going to be packed. But the place is huge.”

“So where is it at?”

“The Grand Hyatt, downtown. But don’t worry, I’ll come and scoop you up. Be dressed in an hour. And I hope you have some tight gear with you. Because they do dress to impress up in that piece.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll be ready in an hour. Brendan is going too, right?” I was thinking I wanted to hang out with my boys, but I could have just as easily gone out to a restaurant or a bar.

“Yeah, he’s picking up the tickets from my man, and he’s going to meet us out in front of the hotel at eleven o’clock. So, later.”

“Later.”

I was in
the kitchen eating a piece of Mom’s famous lemon cake when I saw Nate’s headlights; I washed my hands and headed toward the door. I looked down into the family room and saw that Kyle was still playing his Xbox. I yelled down to him to pause the game long enough to come up and lock the door behind me.

I gave Nate a strong soul brother handshake when I slid into his Lexus. It was nice. It was only three weeks old and had the strong scent of leather and that unmistakable new-car scent that I hadn’t smelled since I’d bought my Maxima six years ago.

Looking at my attire, Nate said excitedly, “Damn boy, I didn’t know you had it like that. I figured you would have turned into a country ’bama down there in Georgia. I didn’t know you were down there going out like a Fashion Fair model.” I was looking pretty dapper. I had on a dark gray suit by Christian Dior and a spanking-brand-new pair of thick-soled Coach loafers.

“And that’s a tight watch, my man,” he added.

“You like?”

“Most definitely. Who makes it?”

“Esquire.”

“Yeah? I’m digging that. Is that a new brand? How long have they been out?”

“A good while. Man, don’t you know Atlanta is one of the hottest spots for fashion in the country? Right behind New York and Los Angeles. You better ask somebody.”

“Yeah, I hear you. So what else is up? How was your ride up?”

“It was cool, but you know I’m not big on driving. If I hadn’t needed to bring the car up I would have flown.”

Nate changed the CD from Ludacris to Nas, and asked, “So when is all of your stuff going to be here?”