A Cold Piece of Work (19 page)

T
hat night of passion unleashed desires in both of them that had been distracted or untapped for eight years. And so, their sensual romps became nightly escapades. Over the next three weeks, a routine was established. They would spend post-school with Gerald, helping with the mounds of homework, having dinner, talking, playing. By nine, like clockwork, the kid was exhausted and actually asking to go to bed.

It got to be that Solomon and Michele would look at each other with a devilish grin when Gerald started yawning. They knew their time was near.

The consistent, fulfilling sex changed Michele. She was perky and optimistic, smiling and energetic, jovial and spry. Spirited.

At her book club meeting one Saturday afternoon, she could not contain her glee—or desire to share the source of it to her five co-members. She did not go there planning to tell her business. But one conversation led her on a path of free speech.

“I enjoyed the book,” said club member Renita, who hosted the meeting at her house in Southwest Atlanta, “but I don't know if it's realistic.”

“How do you mean?” Michele asked.

“Well, the main female character let the guy get away with too much because the sex was good,” Renita said. “No, I'm not having that. No way.”

Michele laughed.

“What's so funny?” Renita said. “And why have you been so upbeat and happy lately anyway?”

“You noticed that, too?” Cassandra, another member, said. “When I called her last week, she could hardly stay on the phone with me. And I heard a man's voice in the background. Unless your son got old pretty fast, that was a man's voice I heard.”

Michele hardly was one to expose her business to the masses. But her book club members were close friends and she could not hold back. Plus, she
wanted
them to know.

“Well,” she started, “there is a man—the father of my son.”

“No, wait a minute,” Angie said. She was the audacious member who had a lot to say to everyone about everything. Every book club had an Angie. Diplomacy was not her forte.

“You telling me the guy who ran out on you all those years ago is back?” Angie said. “Since when?”

“It's a long story, but, yes, he is back,” Michele said. “We've been working on things for about five months now.”

“What?” Angie said. “And you held all this back because?”

“I wanted to see if it was real, where it was going,” Michele said. “Here's what happened, and you're not going to believe this.”

All the members closed their books and moved to the edge of their seats that were set up in a circle in the living room. No drama in a book was better than real-life drama; especially from someone they knew.

“My son played in this basketball league over at Gresham Park, and he kept talking about this ‘Coach Money' that he loved. I never met the coach; when I signed him up, I signed him with the director of the program. And when I dropped him off at practices and games, I kept going.

“And when I got progress reports, it was from the director, not his coach. So, anyway, they had a banquet at the end of the season. I was excited because I could finally meet this ‘Coach Money.'

“You know how obsessed I've been with Gerald having a male influence in his life and his coach was having an impact. So, we get to the banquet and it's ‘Coach Money's' time to give out his awards.

“I look up on the stage and I can't believe my eyes. ‘Coach Money' was actually Solomon Singletary, Gerald's father.”

The women let out a series of expressions that told of their shock:

“Stop lying.”

“Get outta here.”

“Oh, my God.”

“You can't be serious?”

“
What
?”

“For real. Solomon was coaching his son and neither of us realized it. Can you believe that? I was shocked, to say the least. When he saw me, he was shocked, too. Still, he didn't know Gerald was his son.”

The women looked at each other, shaking their heads.

“So what happened, girl?” Angie pressed on.

“He apologized about what he had done and I gave him a hard time about it,” Michele continued. “But the truth of the matter was I still had feelings for him, even after all that happened and all that time, even after what he had done. The problem was, I didn't trust him.”

“How could you?” Angie said. “How can you?”

“He had to build it,” Michele said. “If Gerald wasn't involved, I probably wouldn't have given him a chance. But it was always there that he was his father and should be in his life. That was always important to me.

“But I didn't tell Solomon about Gerald. I kinda-sorta got over the disappearing act he played on me. But it took a lot of time. I
had to see what he was about before I told him about Gerald. I mean, it was eight years ago and we all grow up.”

“Not all of us, honey,” Angie said. “I know men who are the same jerks now as they were in their twenties. So...”

“Well, from what I've seen, Solomon has changed,” Michele said. “He admitted a lot to me and he really has been amazing. The part I was nervous about was telling him about Gerald. I didn't know if he would run or if he would be mad at me or if he'd just refuse to be a part of his life.

“But he's been totally committed to being a father.”

“Well, congratulations, girl. That had to be a relief,” Cassandra said.

“I feel like a different person, you know? Like I've done something great for my son—and myself,” Michele said.

“That's what men can do—the right man, the righteous man,” Renita said. “When my husband and I are doing well, there's no better feeling. The trick that I haven't figured out is how to feel that way all the time.”

“'Nita,
no one
has or ever will figure that one out,” Angie said. “It would be the ninth Wonder of the World.”

The ladies laughed.

“But let's get back to the original question,” Angie said when the laughter subsided. “What's all this glow about? It can't be just because Solomon... That's his name, right?...has been a good father. Can it?”

All eyes shifted to Michele, who took a large gulp of her glass of Oya wine and decided she would share her good news with her friends. Their previous book club meetings had turned into complaint sessions about their jobs, finances, kids, men or the lack of quality men. She decided she would color that meeting with real talk about how her life had changed in five months.

“You asked for it.” Michele smiled. “It was one thing to see Solomon and to learn that he wanted to be with me again. And it was another thing that he loves his son and is doing his part as his father.

“But...” Michele shook her head and looked off at nothing in particular, “...to consistently feel a man's hands on my body and to feel his passion...oh, my God, it has been something that changed how I feel about myself and about life.”

“What?” Angie said.

“Angie, be quiet,” Renita said. “Let her finish.”

Michele continued. “It's just that—and I never felt like I needed a man to make me whole—having the passion we have is something that has stuck to me. The way he handles me and caresses me and kisses me and makes love to me...it's something that physically brings me pleasure all day long.

“It's like he's all over me. Even though we may have been together the night before, the next day I'm still carrying that intimacy with me. My body sometimes aches, but not like pain. It's like an intense yearning to feel him.

“But it really is more than that. It all starts with the physical; he knows what he's doing to me in bed. But—for me anyway— there's something really comforting about knowing you have good sex in your life.

“It gives me confidence and comfort. And it might seem like a little thing, but it makes me feel joyous. So, yeah, I'm glowing. I feel like an important part of my life is there and it brings that extra pep in my step. It makes me feel sexy and desired. It makes me more patient and understanding. It makes me feel better than happy. Happiness can come and go. Being joyous or joyful is a state of being, no matter what else is going on. That's how I feel. Joyous.”

Her friends looked at her in amazement. They had never heard her talk so much at once and they were captivated by her thoughts. No one said anything, so Michele kept going.

“This is different from having somebody come over on a booty call—we've all had them—and, you know, basically provide a service. Feeling so strongly about him it makes the love-making so much more intense and so much more pleasurable.

“It was good before with him, but it is something incredible now. And you know what? It makes me understand why a woman would cheat on her husband. I don't condone it; don't get me wrong. If Solomon and I broke up—God forbid—and I had to move on to someone who didn't give me loving that stuck with me all the next day or I didn't crave his touch, it would be a disappointment.

“I probably would, eventually, seek that feeling that I have now. That's awful to say, I know. And I hope that, if it ever came to that, I'd be more committed than I'm sounding right now. But I've learned that sex is critical to a relationship. We must be honest enough to admit that. I know now that it changes my whole attitude about my everyday life.

“What woman doesn't want a man who is good to her and is a good provider and a good father? I'm convinced now that he could be all that, but if he isn't making you crave him sexually, well, it's not the same. Unbelievable sex can make up for a lot of flaws.”

Her book club members nodded their heads knowingly.

“Girl, you sound like that man is putting it down,” Angie said. “I joke around a lot, but I understand what you're saying. I almost married a guy once because that fool knew how to knock some boots. Damn, he was good.”

“So why didn't you marry him?” Renita said.

“He was knocking boots with anyone he could, that's why,” Angie answered. “Then he ended up in prison for selling drugs or something.”

“He probably started getting
his
boots knocked in prison,” Cassandra joked.

“Yeah, but you get her point, though?” Michele said. “He obviously had flaws. But he made her feel good.”

“If you're so tied to the sex, aren't you giving him all the power?” Cassandra asked.

“I have two answers for that,” Michele said. “Who cares about power if he's changing your outlook on life and the attitude you have going about your day? That's a fight for power that I don't even care to be involved in. He can have the power; as long as he doesn't abuse it.

“The other answer is it isn't a one-way street. You actually have power, too. If you're pleasing him as much as he's pleasing you, he's going through his day thinking about getting back to you to get what you're giving.

“Solomon and I talked about it, which is another residual of great sex. It opens you up. It makes you want to communicate with your man. He said to me before I said anything to him about all this that he has sat at his desk at work and stopped what he was doing and reminisced about us together.

“He said, ‘I can feel your heat and your body right there.' And I was like, ‘Wow, he's experiencing the same thing I am.'

“So, it is a two-way street. Neither one of us is thinking about who has power. We're not overthinking it. Truth be told, that's a real problem we have, as women. We are quick to analyze something up and down, around and around, back and forth.

“We do all that and we're missing the essence of what it is. If I spent time, Cassandra, trying to worry about or trying to figure
out if he has the power over me, I would miss out on the pleasure. It would take away from it because I wouldn't be thinking about it.

“And, see, that's what this has also taught me. Relax. Enjoy the moment. We all want things to be perfect. It would've been perfect if Solomon had never left me and we'd stayed a couple and had a child and so forth. But if I stayed stuck on what I didn't have, I wouldn't have been able to fully embrace what I do have now.

“You understand what I'm saying? And, listen, this is all new to me. Five months ago I wasn't getting anything and I got to where I thought I wouldn't get any for a long time—if ever. I was fed up. We've all been there.

“But to be where I am now...I'm sorry if I'm preaching, y'all. I have a lot to say.”

Angie said: “And to think, I thought this bitch was a prude. Turns out she's a little whore.”

The women burst into laughter.

After several seconds, the noise died down.

“Girl, you make me want to go out and find Mr. Goodbar,” Renita said.

“Don't you have a husband?” Michele said.

“And?” Renita responded.

“Ah, that's cold,” Michele answered.

“It is what it is,” Renita said. “I can't lie. You stay married long enough, it seems like maintaining what you're talking about is impossible. I love Steve. He's my husband. But he's not putting it down like he used to.”

“Well, I'm no relationship expert,” Michele said, “so I can't really sit here and try to offer you advice. But I'll tell you this: Solomon and I went twelve days straight making love.”

“No wonder your ass is in pain,” Angie blurted out, prompting more laughter.

“Whatever, crazy lady,” Michele said. “My point is, in the middle of that time, we talked about how to maintain what we have as far as passion and desire and romance go. And he said, ‘We can't let it get stale like everyone else does; that's the problem with many marriages. They get comfortable and let things go. We have to keep it sexy and fun.'

“We don't have years together to draw from. But we hope to, and we'll always draw from that idea that you have to continue to make the effort. This is the best I've felt in my entire life and I don't want to feel any other way. I just don't.”