When You Come to Me (22 page)

Mama always referred to that world as “La-La Land”.

She was only twenty.

What would her family think? Yes, she was certain that her family would simply be overjoyed that she brought home a white boy from New York, especially following their opposition to her even attending UGA at all.

Good thing that she proved them wrong!

No, no, no!

“Baby,” he called from the shower.

Natalie swallowed her apprehension and cleared her throat. “Yes?”

“You better not be cleaning…”

“I’m not...don’t worry,” she murmured.

“You’re quiet,” he called out. “And when you’re quiet, you’re up to something…”

She was silent in his green Explorer. Dead silent. She didn’t look at him. She
couldn’t
look at him. Everything in her God-given power told her that looking at him might make her crumble into a billion pieces. But, he was wearing that delicious cologne that she’d bought him for his twenty-fourth birthday last August.

Marrying Brandon…Being Married to Brandon…Ms. Brandon David Greene...Brandon and Natalie Greene?

She attempted the idea in her head. The sound of it made her utterly numb. Suddenly the magic of doodling her name next to her crush's name on notebook paper in the seventh grade now had a hazy grey cloud covering it. She didn’t want to rush to conclusions, didn’t want to assume, but was it not blatantly obvious what a ring like that was for?

“You’re quiet again,” he said in his low voice, as if he weren’t used to it already. He glanced over at her, they stopped at a light.

She cleared her throat. “I’m thinking…”

“About?”

“Have a test next week…can’t believe that I haven’t started studying for it.”

“Can’t believe it either…”

She sighed. He reached for her hand. Her entrails twisted.

“Now,” he began. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?”

She suddenly loathed that he could guess her feelings so well.

“What? My professor’s a really tough grader.”

“You’ll make an A…”

“What if I don’t?”

“Tallie…” he murmured.

She squeezed his hand. She bit her lip back to resist the urge to reveal her discovery. She wouldn’t ruin the night, she wouldn’t let him worry. But she had to devise a way to let him down easily. She concluded that she couldn’t marry him now. And she wasn’t sure if she ever could.

“Fine,” he said. “I give up…let’s just have fun tonight shall we?”

She nodded.

She ordered the steak and he the tilapia, and as they each sipped a glass of Sauvignon Blanc, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, in that creepy type of way, as if he was up to something.

Her heart just kept on pounding. She found it hard to swallow in the moment, and was certain that, at any moment, the walls would start to cave in on her. Was it just her crazed imagination, or was everyone staring at them?

He replaced his glass on the table, cleared his throat and said, “Natalie, I have something to tell you…”

Quickly, that girl reacted, placed her hand on her boyfriend’s, lifted her glass high and said, “Brandon, let’s make a toast, shall we?”

He looked at her strangely. He had every right.

But what else was she supposed to do? She most certainly wasn’t ready to hear what he had to tell her.

He complied, raised his glass as well, still glared at her in that weird, creepy, stomach-dropping sort of way.

“To us,” she said. “May we stay this way…you know, just as we are, like this…today…dating…having fun…for a long time…you know, not forever…just a long time…”

He cleared his throat again, but this time, in that way when he felt uncomfortable.

“Fine,” he said. “To us, and to the worst toast I’ve ever heard in my entire life…”

They clinked glasses. She finished off her glass.

“You forgot ‘I love you’.” he said to her.

“What?”

“You forgot to say, ‘I love you, Brandon’.”

She swallowed with difficulty. “I thought that that was understood?”

“Sometimes I want to hear it. God, I sound like such a girl.”

She reached for the expensive bottle by the table’s side. She poured another glass gingerly. She could see Brandon watching her closely.

She took a quick swig, and said, “I—I love you, Brandon…is that better?”

“I suppose,” he said, with a shrug. “And I love you too…but can I tell you what I have to tell you now?”

Another swig passed her lips. She nodded.

“I ran into Sophia today…”

“Gee, what a great way to start a conversation…you’ve definitely got my attention…”

“Hear me out…”

“I’m all ears," she replied sarcastically, raising her glass to her lips.

Another swig...

“Tal…”

“Alright…go ahead…”

“I ran into Sophia today,” he said. “And we hugged and…”

“Gee, great story…”

“
And
we hugged and I was looking at her, and I wondered why I ever fell in love with her in the first place…why I ever dealt with her…”

“Because she was extraordinarily beautiful…smart…successful…
not
a virgin…”

“Yes, all great things,” he said with a light chuckle. “But I was looking at her, and wondered how…you know, really thought about it…I wondered how my life was when you weren’t in it...”

Another swig…

“Is Brandon David Greene getting sappy on me?”

“Yes, I am, Natalie, pardon me…”

Another swig…

“By all means…c—c—continue…”

“Would it be totally clichéd to say that I’m glad that I have you in my life?”

“Oh, totally…”

“And that I don’t want to be anywhere else…?”

“Certainly…”

“And that I want to marry you?”

“Makes me want to…
what
?”

Another swig…a long swig…

“You heard me…”

“I’m not sure that I did…” She lowered her eyes, hiccuped and sloppily slammed her glass on the table.

“Oops,” she giggled. “Pardon me…”

“Natalie...are you drunk?”

She leaned back sloppily in her seat. “Possibly…”

People started to stare…of course they would…what a spectacle they were…

And why on earth was the candle starting to float?

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“That the wine was good…”

And it began to hit her hard…yes, that darn wine…and she started to laugh, really hard, as if she’d just heard the funniest joke…maybe she just did…Brandon Greene being ready for marriage was definitely cause for a good laugh.

“What the hell is funny? You getting drunk before we even get our dinner?”

She laughed harder, louder, hiccuped again and said, “No…no…of course not, Brandon Greene…my d—d—darling, my confused boyfriend…you wanting to marry me…that’s what’s funny…”

Brandon paused for a moment and dropped his eyes as he pursed his lips. It appeared as if he were contemplating his next move.

It wasn’t until she belched, giggled and slammed her hand on the table that he dumped his napkin on the table and pushed his chair back. He got to his feet, yes, her boyfriend of an entire year, came to her side of the table, and pulled her out of her chair.

And then they were out in the fresh air, Brandon tugging her ardently. She was still laughing…

Brandon was only a hazy figure ahead of her, and she found it incredibly difficult to stride. Her steps were more like a stagger, and through her inebriation, she sensed Brandon's progressing agitation with her. She then looked up toward the sky. She felt that she could reach for the moon again. There it was! Right at her fingertips! Part of her didn’t care; she’d said no in the best way that she knew how. Another part of her hoped that she didn’t hurt his feelings too much.

She concluded that he was still Brandon, still her best friend, one of the very few unwavering things in her humble life.

“Oh, big, bad, Brandon is mad,” she teased.

He got her into the car, got behind the driver’s seat, and he started the engine. He didn’t say a word to her.

And she still taunted him, took his arm and laughed in his face.

“How many guests would we have, Brandon? How many? What would be our first song? Sophia could be my maid of honor! What an excellent idea, right? Having your ex-girlfriend as my maid of honor! Then you could see her all of the time. Admit it, Brandon…admit it now! You still love her, don’t you? You miss having sex with her, don’t you? Admit it! Ooh! We could have “Ebony and Ivory” playing as I walk down the aisle. We could honeymoon in Europe. I’m sure your parents, whom I’ve never met by the way, would love paying for that. And I’m sure my mother, who’s never supported interracial dating, would give me away to a white boy! Did I tell you that my family doesn’t know you exist? Isn’t that funny? I’m too scared to tell them! Isn’t that the funniest thing you’ve ever heard?”

He kept his cool, even when they got back to the house on Trent Road, even when he lifted her up into his arms and she still taunted him. She still taunted him when he got her into a pair of his shorts and an old t-shirt and got her into his bed.

But, as the sun spilled into the room several hours later, and she spent several moments trying to make out where she was and what had had happened, Brandon Greene was nowhere to be found…

The only thing left of him was a note.

Tallie,

I’m sorry.

#

WHAT WAS WRONG WITH HER?

She’d been working on her lab report in her bedroom, her door shut tightly, and she could hear Asha’s loud music through the wall. She’d stormed out of her room, she’d busted into Asha’s, and began snapping at her friend. It was something she’d never done before, and the idea that she’d been angry enough to do it unnerved her to the point that she fell to her knees and crumbled into a roar of tears. Her moment of total vulnerability served as her time of release, as a way of admittance. She realized then that in the month or so of Brandon’s disappearance, he had taken a key piece of her, wherever he was.

She’d been so angry for days, disruptively and degradingly filled with so much hurt that it clouded her conscience, her senses, her thoughts.

The following night, she was at the dark house on Trent road on a chilly night in early fall, hugging her pea coat close to her body.

She’d banged on the door, loudly, obnoxiously and Scotty had answered with a wary looked glossed over his face.

“Natalie,” he said. “What are you…?”

“I
know
you know where he is,” she’d interrupted.

And he’d let her in. They sat on the couch together, and he quietly admitted to not knowing where Brandon had gone. He admitted that the last time he’d seen Brandon was the same day of their one-year anniversary, and his dark-haired friend hadn’t said much in the small pocket of time that they stood in the kitchen that day. Scotty apologized following, saying that he’d tried to call him a couple of times, but received no answer.

“It’s just not like him,” Scotty told her over two cups of water. “I mean, you and I both know better than anyone that he’s done some crazy shit in his life, but nothing like this…”

She’d cried harder by that point, feeling the defeated once more, and Scotty instinctively covered her with his arms.

She couldn’t say that she never tried calling him, nor could she necessarily blame him for wanting to leave her either.

She’d assumed that he’d finally had enough of her, knew that even though they’d tried, and even though she’d tried her hardest, her fears still prevailed, despite the fact that in the year that they were together, she couldn’t have imagined loving him more, which would most definitely explain the reason why her emotions still got the best of her.

She would let Scotty hold her in hopes of finally letting him go.

#

She’d quit her job at the library towards the beginning of her senior year, and nabbed the part time job that she’d applied for at St. Mary’s hospital, working as a secretary in the pediatric unit. She enjoyed being that close to children all of the time, loved peeking in on them when the doctors and nurses weren’t around, and it inspired the content of the personal statement she’d written along with her application to the five schools she wanted to go to the most and had applied to the previous summer: Johns Hopkins, University of North Carolina, Duke, Wake Forest, and Harvard Medical. Writing the personal statement seemed easy. She'd always known why she wanted to be a doctor. Explaining it to a board of seasoned doctors and administrators didn't intimidate her one bit.

It was within the first few weeks or so that she’d been working there, on a spontaneous break for coffee in the cafeteria, that Anthony Jones, a resident, boldly admitted to her within five minutes of meeting her that he’d been watching her for weeks.

“So…you’re the one I’ve seen lurking around the newborn unit, aren’t you?”

“You caught me…”

“What’s your name?”

“Natalie…”

“Do you like Caribbean, Natalie?”

She nodded, thinking of her father. “Yes…”

“Can I pick you up at eight then?”

She sighed, thinking of Brandon. “Why not…?”

She dressed comfortably that night, slipped on a pair of jeans and a black shirt that she stole from Asha once had never returned it. She wore her hair down, with its natural waviness, shockingly tamed and shiny.

Asha came into the room; lay against her bed, as she applied brown eyeliner to her narrow brown eyes. Jill Scott sang from her speakers.

“What’s his name?” Asha asked in a teasing voice, ginning.

“I don’t wish to say,” Natalie told her, glancing back at her shortly.

“Why not?”

“Because, it’s just dinner, it’s not that big of a deal…”

“Is he cute?”

“That doesn’t matter to me…”

“So, he’s cute!” Asha rolled off of the bed, and stood behind Natalie in her vanity mirror.

Natalie, smiling, said, “I told you, Asha, it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does, you want him to be as cute as Brandon, or maybe more, so you’ll get over him faster…”

“That doesn’t matter…and I thought that we didn’t mention that name in this apartment anymore?”