Feelin' the Vibe (15 page)

It was more than either me or Curtis originally imagined when he came up with the idea. Dr. Woods took us on the tour of the
section of the school where we’d have the conference. We had room for over a thousand girls to attend. Multiple rooms for
the workshops. All Mrs. Dillon needed was the room numbers and a map of the area. She’d already come up with the workshop
schedule and had partitioned the girls off by age and registration date. We were basically spectators in the whole event,
because she’d tied up every loose string. Curtis and I were pretty much handling the funding. I did have one request. There
was a workshop titled The Battle: Beauty vs. Brains. It was a subject I thought Taylor could help the girls with, considering
she had both, and the girls could probably connect with her personality. I asked Mrs. Dillon if she could pencil my wife in
as one of the panelist. She frowned unconsciously, but agreed. Her reaction didn’t give me a comfortable feeling, but I shrugged
it off.

Finally, when we wrapped up, Mrs. Dillon gave her affectionate embraces before putting on her long beige trench coat. She
and Michelle left, leaving the men to discuss how well everything was panning out. Dr. Woods gave us a head nod. “Man, the
conference is going to be big. We’ll have to do this every year. Win or lose.”

Curtis’s swagger surfaced as he grinned. “Man, we don’t even discuss defeat. Got it?”

I gave him serious dap. “Exactly.”

“No, I believe in you. I’m just saying I believe in this conference, too,” Dr. Woods said.

“Well, say that then, man,” I said, laughing.

“Gotchu, man.”

Dr. Woods walked us to the door. Curtis suggested that he and I get together a little later. He had some things he needed
to take care of first. I looked at my watch and it was a little after twelve. I had a two o’clock meeting and that undisclosed
four o’clock. Curtis said, “Four works.”

I said, “What about seven?”

“Seven?”

“Yeah, gotta fit the wife in at some point,” I said, lying. I knew Curtis would fall for that excuse, being that his wife
ran their relationship.

“Yeah, I feel you, man. That will give me some time to go home, too.”

We laughed and headed out of the building to tend to our personal business. Momentarily, I thought about canceling my meeting
with Clark. But I quickly reverted back to my original plan of action.

I
was plagued with so much fear as I turned into the same parking lot I left just twenty-four hours earlier. Yet now I was
anxious to just be near him. To share some time with my old boyfriend, my first real boyfriend. When I pulled into my parking
space, I recognized Devin’s sporty, black Benz SL500, parked two spots over. He was already in there, and I didn’t hesitate
jumping from my car and waltzing into the café to explore the possibilities or nonpossibilities.

When I entered, I noticed him sitting on the couch in the back with two cups of coffee on the table. I walked over to him.
He stood and hugged me closely, kissing my cheek. Chills ran up my spine as I quickly sat on the couch. He sat closely beside.
“I got you a café mocha. Right?”

“Yes, Devin. The same thing I drank yesterday.”

He laughed. “The same thing you’ve been drinking for about ten years.”

I blushed. It was strange that he remembered so many things about us. So many things I’d forgotten, but the butterflies in
my stomach remembered it all. The feeling hadn’t changed. In fact, they were heightened. Even as I sat there, nine years more
mature, nine years past the situation, seven years into my marriage, still I was drawn to him like the young college senior
I was when we first met.

As my mind wandered, he said, “What made you change your mind?”

“Huh?”

“Yesterday, you told me that I couldn’t have what I wanted. That I couldn’t see you again because somehow it was wrong and
I was too spontaneous,” he said, smiling.

I took a deep breath. “Devin, I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know why I agreed to see you again. I love my husband.”

“I love my wife.”

My heart plunged. It took me seconds to recover, but I wasn’t sure if I concealed the hurt. Why did it not feel so good to
hear him say that, after I’d just said it? My mouth hung open midthought and he said, “Time has gone by and we’ve made commitments
to other people and—”

“You’re right. We’re wasting our time.”

He laughed. “That’s not what I was going to say. Just because we’ve been forced to move on and to love new people doesn’t
change the way we feel about each other. I mean, I could be just speaking for myself, but it’s like when I saw you yesterday,
that empty feeling. It was like it disappeared. You know what I mean?”

“Yes, I know what you mean.”

It seemed like we both reflected on what we felt when we first saw each other again. I sipped my coffee and he sipped his.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“A little.”

“Can you still eat a lot?”

I pushed him. “No, my metabolism isn’t what it used to be.”

“You still look good, though. You want to get out of here and grab a bite to eat?”

My eyes shifted. “Where?”

“I’m sure there’s somewhere we can go in Silver Spring.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He searched for a place to eat on his cell phone, while I searched my soul to define what I was feeling. Then, we left the
coffee shop and headed to Nicaro Restaurant Lounge in Silver Spring. When we got there, we discovered they didn’t open until
five-thirty. Devin wavered. Maybe we should wait? Wouldn’t all the good restaurants be open then, too? Finally, we agreed
to wait in the car.

His plush leather seats hugged my hips, and the cushion felt like it was molding to my body, as the heat warmed my bottom.
It felt good to relax in luxury. I took my gloves off and unbuttoned my wool jacket. Devin looked at me and we both smiled.
Then we began to walk down memory lane. We were so made for each other back then. Time was erased as we talked about everything,
and before long the restaurant opened.

By the time we sat down, I was starving. Devin told me to order whatever I wanted. The waiter came over and we ordered appetizers
and drinks. It felt good to go out to dinner and not be on a budget.

The dim lighting and soft music inspired a romantic mood. We stared at each other while we indulged in the half-shell oysters
and grilled calamari, and sipped our two-for-one drinks. Though we weren’t doing anything major, I was having the time of
my life. When our dinner came, I was full, but I still took a few bites. We both talked more than we ate. My hand rested on
the table and Devin reached over to touch me. I looked at him as our fingers intertwined. My heart felt like it was sinking.
Devin smiled, breaking the intensity. He said, “Clark.”

“Yes.”

“Nothing. I’m just trippin’. I can’t believe I’m sitting here with you,” he said, shaking his head.

Then he checked his watch and gasped. I wasn’t sure what was going on, because he checked it again shortly after. I hoped
he didn’t have to leave, because I didn’t want our time to end. He excused himself from the table and I saw him near the bar
making a call. I wondered if it was his wife. I didn’t like the way the speculation made me feel.

When he returned, he explained that he had a meeting with his campaign manager and he was trying to cancel, but the manager
wasn’t picking up his phone. Did that mean our date was over? Obviously my eyes asked the question, because he smiled. “I’m
enjoying myself. He’s going to have to wait.”

Ten minutes later, he tried again. I noticed his irritation. “Devin, why don’t you just go? It’s okay.”

He reached out for my hand. “I don’t want this to end.”

Neither did I, but it had to. My head hung. “What do you want, Devin?”

“I want to spend a little more time with you. I feel teased by these brief hookups. You know what I mean?”

I nodded. He huffed and shook his head. “I visit my daughter in New York at least once a week. Would you be willing to come
hang out with me there?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure if I can get away.”

“Can you at least try?”

“Why would we do that and risk everything we have?” I asked, looking for an explanation to why I was actually willing.

“Don’t you feel like this is an unfinished story? Don’t you need to know how it really ends, too?” The intensity in his voice
demanded my honesty.

I nodded, but my mind flooded with emotions. I didn’t know what I wanted, but we definitely needed to close this open book.
It had been way too long.

I
beat frantically on the steering wheel, willing the traffic to move faster. I continued calling Curtis to let him know I
was running late, and his voice mail kept picking up on the first ring. I figured I’d push my way through and get to him when
I got there. The Beltway traffic had me trapped. My hand ran down my face impatiently.

I decided to turn my music up and stop stressing. My phone rang, and when I noticed it was Taylor, I decided not to answer.
I quickly pressed
IGNORE
. I really didn’t have any reason to be on this side of the Beltway, and I wasn’t in the mood for explaining anything. I was
organizing in my mind how Clark and I were going to get to know each other and stitch up this hole. The thought made me laugh.
We both were crazy, but no more crazy than we’d be if we had suppressed these feelings for another ten years. Taylor called
right back. That was strange, because Taylor was usually respectful of my time, and she usually knew that if I pressed
IGNORE
I was in a meeting. I continued to press
IGNORE
nearly five consecutive times before I answered. She calmly said, “Devin, are you doing something you have no business doing?”

I laughed to give myself a minute to think. “Taylor, I thought we had this conversation last night.”

“We did, but I’m wondering why Curtis just called here to speak to you and you told me you’d be with him and he told me you
told him you’d be with me? So, you’re not with him. You damn sure aren’t here with me. Where the hell are you?”

“How many times do I have to tell you my plans can change at the drop of a dime? Curtis doesn’t know every move I make. I’m
still a consultant. Do you know that?”

She took a deep breath. “It’s almost eight o’clock. Your campaign has no record of any meetings and most of your clients meet
you during working hours. Whatever you’re doing, Devin, I suggest you stop, because I will not tolerate it. I will not sit
around wondering where my husband is. That is an absolute no-no. I’m not having it.”

“Look, I had a meeting and I’ve been trying to call Curtis, but his voice mail picks up on the first ring. Of course he doesn’t
know where I am.”

She huffed. “His battery died and he only knew the house number by heart.”

I wanted to choke the shit out of Curtis. He didn’t know that men don’t say shit like this to another man’s wife. I was infuriated.
This asshole’s battery died, so he wants to disrupt my life. I huffed, “Did he leave a number?”

She didn’t respond and I heard three consecutive beeps, signaling that she had hung up. I considered calling her back, but
I didn’t. It was weird how she knew something wasn’t right, but it wasn’t like I could tell her what I was going through.
I felt bad lying. But what was I supposed to do?

A few minutes later, an unfamiliar number popped up on my phone. I quickly answered, assuming it was Curtis. “Yeah, man.”

“Devin,” she said so sweetly.

“Hey, Clark. I guess you’re in traffic, too. I’m sorry. We should have probably just parted after we left the Daily Grind.”

“No, actually I just had to drive down Twenty-nine. There’s no traffic going my way.” She snickered. “I actually stopped at
Columbia Mall and I’m on my way home now.”

“What did you buy?”

“I splurged a little on the purse.”

“Oh yeah, you still love to shop.”

“Not as often as I used to, you know. We’ve been on a budget for so long, I’m literally in a purse depression.”