Sweet Bye-Bye (25 page)

“You should see it, Chawnee. We are seeing results where the healing process is sped up, occurring two to three times faster than with conventional burn treatments. It’s like Neosporin in a vacuum!”

I laughed.

“By the way, Chantell, can you keep next Friday open? The hospital’s planning a dinner; it’s to mark the unveiling of the technology. You’ll be there, won’t you?” His eyes were wide open.

“Of course, babe. What time does it start?”

“It kicks off at six, right after work, I believe. I’ll confirm all of the information and get it to you later today. But what I do know thus far is that it’s going to be semi-formal, and there will be a special presentation to our group, to thank us for our participation.”

He was so excited, but to be completely honest, my stomach turned. It marked the end of his time here, and I didn’t know where we were going with us. My eyes watered up, but I willed it away, and no tears fell.

“The best part of all of this, Chantell, is that the machines are economical. So they’ll be cost-effective and available for nearly all medical centers with burn units across the country.” He smiled a smile that I remembered from long ago.

“So how much more time will you and your group be working on Project Netzer?” I asked.

He spoke with energy and passion. “Well, technically we’re finishing up in the next two weeks.”

Yep, he’d be leaving soon. Soul-mate-Colgate-patrol-mate, to heck with it. He was out of here. No matter what Tia said, I knew from my parents’ lives and my own that there were far fewer tears when life was planned out. Things just worked out better that way.

“. . . So I’m not sure how much longer the hospital will need me. But I will be here as long as I am asked to be.”

“That’s great, Keith Rashaad.” I stretched. “Well, you know, I am getting a little tired.”

“Okay, babe, it is getting a little late. Let’s head out.”

He got up and pulled me up by my hands to a standing position. I gathered the blanket and he gathered the water bottles.

“Maybe I can get to the hospital a little earlier than planned tomorrow morning.”

We drove home, and Keith kept talking about all of the new technology’s potential. He said that he was going to call the doctor in Boston who recommended him into the fellowship program and invite him to the dinner. I tried to smile.

“Things can only get better from here, Chantell, I’m telling you.”

I looked straight ahead and listened as attentively as I could.

46

The Dinner Party

I
t was the day of Keith’s dinner, and my day hadn’t gone so well. For starters, I was tired from the night before. Dad wasn’t feeling well last night so I spent the night at his home in case Charlotte and I needed to rush him to the emergency room. My back was still hurting from sleeping on my childhood twin-size bed. Dad was feeling fine today, but work was a bit stressful. Buildyourownshoes.com, one of my accounts, had gone into collections, owing the newspaper over $50,000. Our accounting office informed me that the client’s phone number was disconnected, so I went over to the building where their offices were located, and as we feared, the office was no more. The doors were locked and a “For Leasing Information” sign was displayed in the window.

My manager, Canun Ramsey, wanted to know why I hadn’t kept a better watch on the account, like it was my job to monitor their billpaying.

I told him, “Their credit limit was a hundred and five thousand, and they were barely at half of that.” But Canun didn’t care. He insisted that I should have prevented this. Whatever! He could really drain me.

Keith’s award banquet was less than two hours away. I picked up my phone to dial his number, but Susan, the woman upstairs from accounting, was on my line. She was frantic. “Hello, Chantell, can you please come upstairs with your file on Marquis Jewelers, so that I can determine this accounts payment history?”

After a long, deep breath, I said, “Sure, but we have to make it fast.”

The clock was ticking, and I already was more than tired. When Susan suggested that we go over the account’s bill payment history for a third time, I put the brakes on.

“I’m sorry, Susan, I’ve gotta run. I have plans this evening.”

I grabbed my keys and my purse and ran to the elevator. Keith’s dinner marked a closing chapter in his life—in our life—and he needed me there to witness it. I rushed home as fast as traffic would allow. It was 5:05 when I walked into the living room. I had just enough time.

There was so much tension in my shoulders. I ran to my closet and took out a pink-and-black suit. I turned on the radio and went into the bathroom to run my bathwater. The bubbles filled the tub, and I thought of all the things that we’d done together. The walks in the park. Saturday bike rides. Church on Sunday mornings together. I inhaled the steam as the warm, misty fog covered the mirrors. The water felt warm and silky, and my head was heavy. I closed my eyes, laid my head back on the inflated pillow for just a moment, and listened to Wynton Marsalis blare from my bedroom.

After my bath, I felt so exhausted that I lay down on my bed, thinking that I would just rest my eyes for a moment. I didn’t want to go to this “project end” dinner. Sometimes you get what you want . . .

It was 6:25 when I woke up and realized what had happened. The Convention Center was a few minutes away from where I lived and the folks there were probably already eating dinner!

“Augh! How could I have let this happen?”

I called Keith. His voice mail came on. “Keith, I am so sorry. I’m late,” I said. “It’s been a crazy day. But I am on my way. Okay? Bye.”

I was racing around the house. Grab my purse, get my keys, get my cell phone, turn off the lights. I bumped my knee on the coffee table and ripped my nylons. Maybe I should have just given up.

I ran into a pharmacy, bought a new pair of pantyhose, put them on in the Jeep, and sped to the Convention Center. When I reached the Marietta Room, the clock on the wall said it was 7:06 p.m.

I pulled on the handle and opened the doors. People were seated at probably thirty round tables arranged about the room. The waiters and waitresses were taking plates away. There were still a few people eating what looked like mousse or cheesecake. I looked around for Keith Rashaad and spotted him at the table in the front center. I waved hello. He motioned for me to come up front.

“I was worried about you.”

“Sorry,” I whispered. “It has been a rough day.”

“Is everything okay?” he whispered back with a genuine look of concern on his face.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” I tried to reassure him. “I just fell asleep.”

“Oh. Okay,” he said, and quickly looked away from me and back up at the speaker.

The speaker closed the evening out. Everyone got up, gathering their purses and coats. Keith introduced me to a few of his coworkers and the chief of staff but he just didn’t seem like himself. I apologized to him again. He seemed to cheer up some by the time we left. Keith Talbit was always pleasant. He could never stay mad for very long. It just wasn’t in his nature. Sure enough, by the time we left, Keith Rashaad was smiling again.

47

Pick Me Up

T
hough I was running late, I lay in my bed with one of my mother’s books in hand. I had a lot on my mind. Keith hadn’t left yet and that was a good thing. But we still hadn’t worked out the logistics of our relationship. I’d brought up our future once to him, and he’d smiled and said that we’d work things out. I’d said of course we would, but I now wondered how much longer he’d stick around. I removed the scarf from my hair and thought about what I was going to do with all of my mom’s paintings. There was one gallery suggesting I auction them, and another one suggesting displaying them in a museum. All of this was going on, not to mention my boss, Canun, and all of the drama he added to my life.

My phone rang. I smiled when I looked at my new caller ID and saw that it was Keith’s home phone number.

“Hello,” I answered in a sexy tone.

“How’s my girl?”

“I’m good, Keith.” I sat up in bed. “How are you this morning?”

“Not bad. I did twelve hours last night, and I just got in the door. I’m so glad to be home.”

“You poor baby.”

“I’ll be alright. Hey, I thought you’d be at work already.”

“I’m going in later this morning.”

“I see. I had an idea, so I was going to leave you a message.”

“What’s up?”

“I was thinking,” he said. “When was the last time you ran?”

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s been a while.” I smiled. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’m going to run the lake. Would you be down to run it with me?”

“Umm, yeah, sure,” I said without batting an eye. “When?” I needed some exercise.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday. How about in the morning?”

“Oh, I am so down!” I said. “I haven’t run the lake in years. But Keith, I must warn you, I ran for distance all through school. So don’t come up there half-steppin’, okay? Bring your A game.”

Keith laughed. “What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing. I’ll go easy on you.” I giggled.

He teased back, “Oh, I see, you got jokes this morning? Girl, you need to recognize. I’m a sprinter!”

“Baby, you ain’t saying anything,” I taunted.

“You know what? If you weren’t my woman, I’d take you down to that lake and leave you in the wind. But I’m a gentleman, and I ain’t gone do you like that.”

I laughed. “Oh, okay! Whatever, dude. In the morning!”

“Yeah.” He laughed. “In the morning.”

That was Keith Talbit. Be it over the phone, or through my door, or via mail, he could come in and pick me right up. I got out of bed and sang Patti LaBelle’s version of “Somewhere over the Rainbow” all the way to work.

48

Run for Your Life

I
parked on the street by Fairyland, where the lake wasn’t visible. It was a cool Saturday morning. I was in a good mood. Yesterday at work, I’d closed another $40,000 in business, which put me over my goal for the month again. Today Keith and I both had the entire day off. It would be a good day. I’d put my hair in a big clip and pinned it up. A strip of hair fell down my cheek. I didn’t have any makeup on except for eyeliner, and Chap Stick. I wore blue shorts, a white shirt, a dark blue windbreaker that I tied around my waist in case the wind kicked up, and Reeboks. I looked around and I didn’t see Keith’s borrowed Lincoln anywhere yet. I moved over to the grass and stretched out.

“Chawnee!” Keith’s voice called from across the street. He jogged in my direction. His great physical condition shone. He reminded me of Michael Jordan running across the street. He wore black nylon sweats, a white T-shirt with a Nike swoosh across the front, and white Avia running shoes. I tried not to stare at his lean, muscular frame. I knew that he ran a few times a week, but it looked like brotherman ran 24/7/365.

“Hi,” I said and gave him a smack on his lips.

He stared at my unpolished lips for a moment. “Hi back,” he said.

I looked him up and down and said, “How often did you say you ran?”

“Three or four times a week. Don’t get scared now. Are we going to do this or what?”

“Yeah!” I said, remembering all of the trash I talked. “I ain’t har’ly skuury. Let’s do it.”

We stretched a bit, and we were off. I hadn’t run much in the last few years, and my body, though shapely, was getting pretty soft. We started slow, pacing ourselves, but I couldn’t resist teasing a little. “Okay, c’mon. Whatchu’ you waiting fo? What the problem is?”

“Hey, I’m just hanging with you,” he said.

I picked up the pace a bit. I heard people behind us, a lot of them, huffing and puffing. I turned my head and looked back, and a group of senior citizens power-walked right by us. We laughed.

“Just for the record, I’m following your lead,” I said.

He tisked. “And you have the gumption to be bragging about running in school.” He shook his head as though I was pathetic.

“Oh, don’t even try it . . . You know what? Forget it! I’ll show you what I got,” I mumbled. “I was trying to go easy on a brothah.” I jogged faster, kicking up my heels like I was Marion Jones.

Keith just laughed. “Chantell, you’re silly.”

We ran around the bin and approached the Fairyland entrance sign. The signs always reminded me of the Hollywood letters sitting on the hills in Los Angeles, only this sign was a gazillion times smaller. Today there were ducks on the little grassy hill. Huge ducks quacking and waddling. A lady with a double stroller was sitting on the grass watching her two little ones play. The kids looked like they were maybe two and three years old, dressed in little blue nylon windbreakers. They were throwing bread crumbs over in the direction of the ducks, but the ducks kept their distance. A runner with a CD player on his hip passed us going in the opposite direction. We picked up the pace a little more. It felt good. I was determined to become active again. This was so good for me. We approached three ladies in all-black leotards. They were thin, and solid, like they had been running all of their lives. We passed them.

“You cool?” he asked me.

“Yeah. You?” I asked.

“You want to turn it up a little?”

“Bring it on, baby,” I said, looking directly at him and licking my increasingly dry lips.

He smirked, intrigued, and looked at me.

The air was crispy. “Wait. Hold on a minute,” I said and applied some Chap Stick to my lips and to his.

“Your lips look great natural.”

“Thanks. Glad you noticed,” I said.

“I notice everything about you.” He rubbed his lips together. “Mmm. Thank you. Okay, let’s do this!” he added, revived.

We jogged a little faster. I could feel my blood pumping and my heart beating, and I could hear Keith breathing shallow runner’s breaths. We made the turn and approached a perfect view of the water.

Keith slowed up a bit.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking. If I slow up and pace myself,” he breathed, “maybe I can go around twice.”

“See now, I was with you on the ‘let’s run once around the lake thing,’ but I’m not even going to pretend that I’m going to go around with you twice!” That was over six miles.