Knowing Is Not Enough (10 page)

Linda picked up on the first ring. “Hey,” I said. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I can hear you, but barely. I’m in the grocery store. What’s up?”

“I think I’m going to ask Sanford to go with me tomorrow night. Any opinion about that?”

“I think it’s a great idea,” she said. “Do you still want Mitch and me to go?”

I hesitated. “Umm, probably not.”

She seemed fine with the change in plans. “That’s good. It’ll give you a chance to talk.”

“I think so,” I said. “He was kind of flirting with me the other day.”

“How do
you
feel about that?”

“I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “Ask me after the poetry reading.”

“You can tell me if you liked it or not.”

“Okay,” I said. “I liked it.”

“I know you did. I could hear it through the phone. This is a change in position.”

“It was just a feeling,” I said. “I’m sure it will pass as quickly as it came.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Sanford has—”

“Has what?”

“Nothing . . . enough said. I’m almost at check-out, so—”

“I’ll call you afterwards.”

“Okay . . . don’t forget.”

I hung up the phone and shut down my work on the
laptop. Before wrapping up completely, I pulled up my email account. I hadn’t checked it all day, which isn’t typical of me. I’m generally forced to look at it between patients to stay on top of the ridiculous number I receive. A quick glance over the slew of unopened mail determined I wasn’t opening all of these. It was already after six, there was no way I intended on staying here anymore. Mouse in hand, I needed to figure out from reading each subject line, which messages should be opened now, and what could wait until the morning.

Sanford’s job kept him on email more than the average person. Around nine-thirty eight he’d emailed me with
Let Me Know
in the subject line.
Let him know what?
I double-clicked to open the message. It contained the flyer from the poetry reading. The message inside read, “Is this event what you were talking about? Let me know.” I hit reply and responded, “Yes, this is it. Do you want to meet up?” He should get that before I made it home.

After a full day of paperwork and patients, I wanted to take a shower and climb into bed. But my curiosity about Sanford’s reply to my email took precedence. I dug out my cellphone, grabbed a bottle of water, and headed up the stairs to my bedroom. I turned the television on, and put the water bottle on the nightstand, maneuvered a pile of pillows to give myself a head rest while stroking the screen of my cell phone. Unbelievably, ten more emails just from the time it had taken me to get home and comfortably in bed. The only one I was interested in was from Sanford. I tapped to open it, “Absolutely, what time?”
That was a good question. I’ll have to work tomorrow, plus we’re going out on Friday. Maybe it’s my body talking, but I already know I want to make an
earlier evening of it
. I emailed him back,
let’s meet at six o’clock
. I drank a sip of water, removed my glasses, and pulled the covers up over my head to sleep off the day.

The next day, I touched base with Sanford early to make sure he got my message and we were still on. Karen hadn’t scheduled anyone until ten o’clock, which gave me the luxury of dragging my feet in the morning. I arrived at the office to the aroma of fresh brewed coffee. “Good morning,” I said.

“Good morning.”

I approached the front desk and picked up the mail. “Any calls?”

“Yes, I’ve forwarded the messages to your inbox.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m going to call Sanford real quick before I get started.”

“Sanford?” Karen swiveled around in her chair. “You didn’t tell me you were talking to Sanford again.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, don’t ask me how, but I forgot.”

Karen stood up and leaned against the back counter. “How could you forget to tell me that?”

The weight of my briefcase hurt my shoulders. I backed out of the reception area and walked toward my office. Karen followed close behind. “After we went out, I talked with Tobey again about calling Sanford. That Saturday, I finally did and I went up on campus to see him.” I put the mail on the side corner of my desk. Karen took a seat on the couch.

“It must have gone well if you two are going out.”

“Yeah, I think it did. I wasn’t sure at first,” I cut my laptop on, sat in my desk chair while I waited for it to boot up. “For a second I thought showing up there was a bad
idea, but he came around and now we are going out tonight.”

“So, is this a date?”

“No, no—it isn’t a date. It’s like what we used to do, just hang out together. I probably should call him to confirm.” My system came up. Karen rose and stood with her arms folded. She smiled. “If I didn’t know any better I would say this is a date.”

I pushed the call button on the desk phone, leaned forward and returned Karen’s gaze over my glasses. “It’s
not
a date.”

“Of course it’s not.” Karen walked out the office.

Rolling my eyes, I continued to make my call. Sanford answered, “Hello.”

“Hey you, did you get my email?”

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll meet you there at seven o’clock.”

“No, six o’clock.”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant, six o’clock.”

“Okay, see you then.”

My daily responsibilities were no longer the task of the day. Keeping my focus off Sanford and our impending evening superseded everything else. Thankfully, I didn’t have to struggle long, five o’clock came faster than ever before. Karen wished me good evening then left for the day. A quick trip to the kitchen to put something in my stomach, then off to the restroom to freshen up, the black pencil skirt I wore was straight, I undid two buttons on my shirt to show a hint of cleavage, freshened my lipstick and a few seconds later I grabbed my things in route to the spoken word event and Sanford.

The setting sun shone through the glass doors, illuminating the bar's entry. By the time I'd made my way to the hostess desk to ask about the poetry event, I couldn't make much out in the darkened room. She led me through chocolate leather chairs to a private area and a sound stage where the crew finished setting up for the performance. Stage left, a grand piano gleamed in silence, awaiting someone's touch. Through the house jazz, I heard my name. Sanford waved to me. The faint red glow from the table lamp added warmth to his face. He pulled my chair out and waited. Even with me in heels, he towered over me until he wrapped me up in an embrace that lifted me off the floor. His touch sent butterflies through me, ceasing when he finally let me go.

“How are you?”

“I’m good.” I looked him over. In college those hornrimmed glasses used to look geeky, but now the Afro and black frames was a really good look. “You look nice.”

“Thank you.” He displayed every tooth from his perfectly aligned smile. “Aren’t I supposed to tell you that?”

I leaned over. “Well, you can always tell me I’m pretty.”

“Pretty? Who said anything about pretty?

I playfully tapped his hand. “Ah, there he is . . . real funny.”

Sanford laughed. “You’re beautiful as always, and I just love that you’ve let your hair grow longer.”

“Yeah, I know—sorry, I mean thank you.” I moved my hair from one side of my body to the next and combed it with my fingers.

“You want something to drink?”

“Yes, I would love a glass of wine.”

“Okay. I don’t think they are completely set up, I’ll go to the bar.”

Sanford left the table headed toward the bar. I heard my phone vibrate inside my purse. Sanford was still at the bar retrieving drinks and I pawed through my purse. It was a message from Linda asking how it was going.
My goodness we just got here
. I texted back and told her we were fine. Sanford came back with two glasses of wine. The place started to fill up. “So tell me what you’ve been doing for the last year.”

I sighed. “Well, at first I just wanted to get my head together, but that turned into figuring out what went wrong with me and Jake, which then lent itself to what am I looking for in a relationship.”

“What did you figure out?”

“Unfortunately, not a whole lot, but one thing I figured out is that I need to make sure I don’t lose myself in a relationship the way I did with Jake.”

“Lose yourself how?

“I loved Jake, so much . . . I guess I just lost sight of everything else—including me.”

He changed the subject effortlessly. “So are you dating?”

“Why?” I laughed. “You going to fix me up? You just got me back, trying to get rid of me already?” We both took more sips. I put down my glass and checked out the club, it had completely filled up. The band played jazz while the poets were mingling in the crowd. Sanford leaned back in his chair. “What if I told you I did have somebody for you?”

I smiled. “I would ask you who?”

“I don’t think you’re ready to know.”

I pulled my head back in astonishment. “What do you mean not ready?”

Sanford smiled. “Not ready, babe. Just not ready.”

Sanford and I took a pause in the conversation to listen to the first poet who stepped to the mike and recited a poem to rave reviews from the audience. It was a great poem. “How about another round?”

“I have to work in the morning,” I said.

“So do I. Come on just one more.” Stanford called the server over to our table and ordered two more glasses. “I wonder who’s up next.” The lineup was on each table. I reviewed it to see if my favorite poet, Janet J, would be speaking tonight. As luck would have it she was, but not scheduled to come on until nine o’clock. I’d planned on being long gone by then. Our next round arrived to the table. I was starting to feel the effects of the wine.

Sanford read my mind. “I know you’re staying to hear Janet J,” he said.

“I want to, but she’s not on until nine. That’s late.”

He caressed my arm. “Hang with me, we’re going to be grown ups tonight, which means staying out past eight.”

I laughed. The movement from my head caused my hair to drape down into my face. Sanford lightly brushed it away, tucking it behind my ear. “Thank you.” I smiled. “Okay, I’m yours I’ll stay until Janet J goes off.”

“You’re mine?”

I smiled. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Sanford bent forward, close to me. “That’s what you said.”

“Okay, I’m yours until nine o’clock. Yours, as in physically present here.”

He pulled my chair even closer to him and whispered in my ear, “Well I guess I have an hour to get you to change your mind.” I could feel the warmth of his body as his lips slightly grazed my check before he leaned back into his seat.

“I can’t even believe you right now.” I laughed, picked up my drink and finished it off. I motioned for the server to bring one more round for the road. More poets hit the mike until it was finally time for Janet J to take over the evening. Janet J, to the strumming of her bassist, recited a poem about love, friendship, and redemption. More truth than my three glasses of wine could handle.

We paid our bill and headed for the door. Sanford grabbed my hand and walked me to my car. I wrapped my arm under his as we made it to my car. “I had a blast. I really did,” I said.

“Not as much as I did. I’ve wanted us to do this for a long time.”

“How long?”

Sanford stepped into the open door, placed his arm around my waist and pulled me close to him. Leaning down he put his lips on top of mine, gently parting them with his tongue, interlocking his with mine, each slow loving stroke intensifying the feeling. The emerging sound of onlookers broke our embrace. After a few brief moments, Sanford released me and tucked me safely into my car. I drove away, one eye on the mirror and Sanford. He watched me under the tranquil moonlit night as I disappeared.

I love my job, but hate working Fridays.

Linda understandably couldn’t make it, but Sanford and Tobey were in. We agreed to meet at The Boulevard. The sheer thought of seeing Sanford after our date made me swoon. I’d been rather enjoying the seventh-grade crush playing out with him the last few weeks. Gazing at his picture and bursting into irrepressible laugher just recalling a statement he made, late nights talking on the phone under the cover. If my mother were at my house it really would be seventh grade.
I’m resisting the urge to excessively analyze the crap out this. I already know from past experiences if I dissect what I’m feeling I’ll find some reason to walk away and there’s no basis for why I should. Sanford’s not Jake. I need to trust what I’m feeling, and for now, not focus on the past
.