Knowing Is Not Enough (21 page)

“She’s not.”

“That’s not what it feels like.”

“Is she my girlfriend? No. Are we dating—yes.”

“Wow that was fast.”

Sanford’s posture stiffened. “What do mean, that was fast?”

“I don’t know—it seems like you jumped right into something. If you’re able to do that, maybe I misinterpreted what started between us.”

He pointed at me. “You misinterpreted something?”

“Yeah, obviously, I must have.”

“You’re playing victim again. Alex, you told me—and I repeat ‘we should put this on hold,’ remember that?”

I sat up straight, folding my arms. “Yes, of course I remember.”

“Let’s play grownup for a minute . . . what did I say to you?”

“I don’t recall what you said only the sentiment—you wanted to stay together.”

“And you didn’t.”

The server came back with our drinks, something strong for him and wine for me. I watched Sanford take a sip. He face looked distressed. I’d managed to bring something out of him I had never seen before. Anger. Toward me.

“Look, I−”

Sanford leaned in toward me. “Do you really want to talk about this?”

“That’s a good question. I talked to Linda. She told me she was with you at Rio’s when you saw Jake.”

“Did you stop talking to her, too?”

“I was upset—but no, I didn’t. She said she would’ve told me, but if she had, it would have betrayed a promise she’d made to you.”

Sanford nodded his head before taking another drink. “That’s true. Did she tell you why we met?”

“No, are you going to?”

“Tell me why you wanted to break up before I left.”

I didn’t expect this question, and my reaction reflected that. “I told you—even you have to admit, six months is a long time, and now you’re talking about extending it.”

“Well then, I guess you were right. We should’ve separated.”

“Extending your time isn’t the reason I was right. Simone is. You did exactly what I thought would happen.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere . . . what’s that Alex?”

“Met somebody else—moved on. Come on, you’ve been with me through all the breakups—I don’t have areal good track record when it comes to men being faithful.” For a split second I thought of the ramifications of being this honest, but I was here now with no foreseeable consequences for withholding how I felt. “It was better to
end it then—before you cheated on me, while we can still be friends.”

“You put me through hell, because you thought I was going to cheat on you?”

“Hell? Sanford, what hell could you possibly be in? You look like you’re in heaven to me.”

“This is not about Simone. It’s about you never being where I am. Feeling what I felt and knowing what I knew from the moment I asked you to dance in college.” Sanford slid his chair closer to me. Reaching for my hands, he looked in my eyes. Calmer now, he whispered, “So, I waited—I’d been waiting and trusting, with Linda’s reassurance, you would eventually snap out of it, get rid of the last failure in a string of disappointments and see this is more than friendship.”

Sanford leaned back in his chair, swapping my hands for what remained in his glass. He returned his glass to the table, but his hands didn’t reconnect with mine. “It’s getting late—we should head back.” He stood up, dropped money on the table to settle our tab and walked toward the door.

Sanford wasn’t waiting for me anymore
. Even though my state of mind was struggling to find some emotional footing, I stood from my seat and walked toward the door where Sanford waited for me.

The car ride back to the house was quiet. Simone in all her English glory was standing in the door when we pulled up. The music from the house infested the stillness of the night. Cars lined both sides of the street. As we pulled into the driveway, Sanford informed me that Mason and Nikki had invited a few friends over for a little dinner and sprits
for my last night in D.C. We continued to sit there and finally Sanford said, “Do you remember before you got married, Tobey and I took you over to that girl’s house where Jake was?”

I continued to stare out the window. “Yeah, I remember.”

“I said to myself if you take him back after this . . . that was it. We could only be friends. You want a real man, whatever happened to being a real woman.”

He opened the door and got out of the car. Leaving me inside.

Well damn, there it was
. I felt gutted. Our conversation had drained me. I wasn’t up for company, but at the risk of appearing ungrateful, I put on a brave face and got out of the car.

I looked on as Sanford reached out his arm, failing to grab Simone’s hand. She danced into his arms, drawing his lips to hers and kissed him. I observed from behind what was transpiring−the undercurrent of my decision. Free from her embrace, they walked into the party. Together, hand in hand.

The next morning, quietly, I packed, then dressed and locked the door headed for the cab awaiting me in the driveway. I left a generic note thanking everyone for their hospitality pinned to the refrigerator. To wake Sanford up would mean I’d need to find him and if I did, the sight of him in bed with Simone would take me over the edge.
I think I’ll pass
.

It wasn’t until I boarded the plan I received a message from Sanford. It read, “I would’ve taken you to the airport,” which didn’t seem to warrant a response. I sent his message to the little white trash can on my phone, and
then prepared myself for departure.

Sanford was officially black history.

The sun was leaving the day behind when I arrived at Metro Airport. During my trip, Easton had texted me off and on, nothing of significance, just brief abbreviated conversations here and there. I anxiously awaited the buzz in my purse that would take me away from my disenchanting conversation with Sanford. I settled for the illusion of something than the reality of nothing. Easton’s message gave me the assurance something was possible.

Easton’s message gave me assurance of something—a blank page. He was a story yet to be written. I needed that. Like any emotional deserter, I wanted to move on to something new as opposed to fixing what I left behind.

After I put my bags down, I sat on the couch to catch my breath and my phone buzzed. It was Easton. He wanted to see me. I didn’t feel like seeing or being seen by anyone. It’d been a long disappointing weekend. I always have a plan of how I think things are going to turn out—then, wham, I get sideswiped. I really need to learn how to manage my expectations.

I’d rather cut my losses and curl up into bed with some cookies and a pint of ice cream for company.

Never debate a lawyer. All my reasoning and rationalizing didn’t add up to a night of goodies in bed alone. Sanford’s last message read, “I’m on my way.” In D.C., Easton had asked again if anything happened between Sanford and me. He texted this question right before we ate dinner. Afterwards, I assured him there wasn’t. Unlike before, this time I was certain. And, consequently, he believed me.

Easton arrived within the hour of us texting our last message. Granted I’d only seen him a few times, but Easton was well manicured each time I saw him. My outfit matched my mood. Flannel. I couldn’t think of a good reason to change, and that included him. The nights were getting cooler. He wore jeans, a dress shirt with loafers and, for the third time, no wedding ring. Logic dictated he either never wore his ring—hence no ring tan—or he was telling the truth about his marriage. My lie detector wasn’t working.
The truth always finds a way and I have no doubt this situation won’t be any different
.

When he arrived I was ready to eat. We settled on having a piglet day, eating whatever we wanted and watching movies, all of it from the comfort of my bed. Snuggled under the covers after he confiscated the remote he asked, “What do want to eat?”

Leaning over him, reaching for the remote, I said, “I don’t know—how about Chinese?”

Easton moved it out of my reach. “I had that yesterday—I want some fried chicken.”

“Look, if I eat that, you will be watching these movies
by yourself. I’ll be asleep.”

“You invited me over here to go to sleep?”

I gave up on regaining control of the television. “Well, if we’re going to be real about it—” I cut him a look. “You invited yourself.”

He laughed. “You got a menu?”

I reached over and pulled the local soul food restaurant’s menu out of my nightstand. Easton looked on in astonishment. “I thought you were going downstairs.” He laughed. “Why do you have menus in your nightstand?”

I laughed with him. “Look, don’t judge me—I work late nights. It’s convenient to have them here.”

We decided what to eat, called the order in, and then I waited for Easton to return with our dinner. I knew soul food would be a bad idea. I got the catfish dinner, Easton the chicken. We loaded up on sides: yams, macaroni and cheese, greens, and black-eyed peas. For dessert we shared peach cobbler and banana pudding. This was just what I needed. Our food and drinks were in place, hot sauce in hand, and Gandalf arrived at Uncle Bilbo’s birthday party—heaven.

By the time Frodo and Sam arrived at Mordor, we were knocked out. I slept through everything, and so did Easton. I told him soul food would knock us out and it did. I was tired, both emotionally and physically. We didn’t get a chance to talk much this time, which was fine with me. I was all talked out from Sanford. I needed easy and that’s just what Easton delivered—a stress-free evening.

I asked Easton if he would like to spend the night. It was around eleven o’clock when we both woke up to the movie credits. I assured him I wouldn’t take advantage of
him. Despite his disappointment, he stayed anyway.

I took a quick shower while he ran home to get clean clothes for the next day. By the time he returned in sweats and a t-shirt, I was ready for bed—for real this time. We cleaned up our mess from my bedroom and turned in. Easton rested behind me with one arm above our heads and the other wrapped around me.

He managed to bring out the sun, even in this cloudy head.

After piglet night, Easton and I were seeing each other regularly.

It’d been a few months since we’d met and still hadn’t slept together. Tonight the girls and I’d made plans for dinner to catch up with one another. Unlike what I’d done with past relationships, I managed to keep the majority of my personal life to myself. The biggest news for tonight’s discussion would be Tobey and Hunter moving in together.

At our age there aren’t a lot of firsts for us to experience anymore, and this is Tobey’s first true love. I get that, but it’s soon, and I worry she’s moving too fast. Ultimately they have to figure out what makes sense for them, but that’s not going to stop us for putting our two cents in
.

At work, Karen and I finished earlier than we’d expected, giving us time to take my car home and I hop in with her. We met at a seafood restaurant downtown. Karen and I arrived first, then Tobey—with Hunter. Linda walked in still negotiating business on her cell. Our
disappointment at the sight of Hunter didn’t go unnoticed.

Tobey’s disapproving finger pointed at each of us. “Fix your faces—he just dropped me off.”

Karen responded, “Oh, I wondered what was happening here?”

Tobey shook her head. “He’s going to the mall to wait on me.”

We sat in the lobby ten minutes before our table was ready. After receiving our drink order, we ordered food and immediately began catching each other up on what’s been happening. There wasn’t anything new to report from Linda and Karen. Their biggest adventure was what their kids were wearing for Halloween.

Tobey’s information (considerably more interesting than costumes) filled us in on what we already suspected. The move. I knew this was a shark-infested pool to be jumping into, but what the hell . . . I went first. “So what’s up with you and Hunter? Are you moving in together?”

Tobey giggled. “All right, I knew that’s what you brought me here for. Yes, we’re moving in together. And yes, I know it’s soon, but I don’t care what either of you say, so let me get that out right now before you get started.”

“Well, damn, Tobey, can we object before you put us in our place? Nobody said it was too soon—we were thinking it, but we didn’t say it,” Linda laughed.