A Love of My Own (20 page)

11
__________________

I was excited and surprised when Justine called and invited me to lunch. It had been two weeks since I had seen her, but I knew our friendship would return. We met on a splendid and tranquil day that felt more like spring than fall, at Cafe Fiorello on Broadway between Sixty-third and Sixty-fourth.

Justine seemed happy to see me as she gave me a warm hug and kiss on the cheek. She looked good, happy and content, although I detected something unreadable in her eyes.

“God bless you, Zola. It's good seeing you,” she said.

“It's great seeing you,” I said as I squeezed her hands once she'd released me from our embrace.

The waiter showed us to a table in the corner of the patio, and for a few minutes we just stared at New Yorkers who walked swiftly past the restaurant, getting on with their business, looking and acting more like New Yorkers than in the months before.

Justine ordered a sirloin steak salad and I decided on the fresh peppered tuna niçoise with iced tea. After the waiter left, I wanted to make sure I didn't get Justine upset, so I casually asked what the rules were.

“Rules? Zola, you and me go way back. There are no rules.”

“So you've given up that Jesus thing? Girl, I knew you'd come back to your senses,” I said.

The smile on Justine's face faded and she replied quickly, “Zola, I am still in the church, living by the word. I am a child of God. I didn't think I needed to tell you how not to make yourself look silly in the eyes of the Lord. I came to share some good news with you.”

“Oh. What's the news?” I asked. I felt like a child who had just been chastised by her parents. I didn't feel the warmth and love of friendship I had felt with Justine almost twenty years of my life.

Justine held out her left hand and I noticed a small silver ring with a small stone, and before I could manage a sound, Justine beamed, “I'm getting married. The Lord has sent me a husband.” There was an awkward pause.

“You're getting what?” It was a good thing I hadn't eaten any of the bread and olive oil, because I most certainly would be choking to death.

“I'm getting married. Aren't you happy for me?”

“Who are you marrying?”

“His name is Deacon Dexter Fisher,” Justine said proudly.

“Is his name Deacon or is he a deacon?” I asked.

“His first name is Deacon and he is the associate minister at my church. I'm going to be a preacher's wife.”

I needed something stronger than iced tea, so I motioned for our waiter and ordered a glass of Merlot.

I touched Justine's ring finger and said, “Justine, please tell me you're joking. How long have you known this man?”

“I feel like I've known him all my life. This is who God has planned for me to marry,” Justine said calmly.

“You can't do this! Have you told your mother? What does she think?”

“It's not important what anybody thinks. I'm in love and it feels right.”

“How long in real-people days have you known him? I can't deal with church people days. A week? A month? How long?”

“I've know him long enough,” Justine said.

“This is just crazy. Crazy . . . crazy,” I mumbled as I broke off a piece of a bread stick.

“Why is it crazy, Zola?”

I just shook my head in disgust, wondering what had happened to my friend. The girl who I had shared every secret with when I was in high school, and who always made me feel cherished every time I was in her presence. What had happened to that Justine?

“Answer me, Zola! Is it crazy because I finally have something you don't?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I have the Lord in my life. Very soon I will have a husband. I finally have something you don't have,” Justine said.

“What are you talking about? I don't believe this shit,” I said.

“Zola, please don't use that word,” Justine said. “And we both know why my getting married makes you so angry.”

“Don't tell me what words to use,” I said as I sulked in the iron chair. I wanted to get my food in a takeout container and carry my behind back to my office.

“I am so sorry you feel this way. But think about it. All our lives you've had everything, the nice house, nice clothes, two loving parents. People loved you because you were beautiful and smart. Everything you've wanted you've gotten. You have the perfect job and in your sick mind you think you've got the best love life in the world. You don't. One day you will realize that. But most important, Zola, you don't have Jesus in your life, and if you don't repent, all these earthly things will mean nothing when your time on Earth is over,” Justine said.

I reached into my purse, pulled out a couple of twenties and placed them on the table as I stood. “Enjoy your lunch, since you seem so happy destroying mine,” I said as I exited the patio area and headed down Broadway with warm tears rushing down my face.

12
__________________

The thought of spending another evening alone broke me down. I got home, popped in my Janet Jackson CD, uncorked a bottle of Chardonnay and started thinking how wonderful it would be to spend the night with someone next to me. It was the one thing I missed the most about Trent and not being in a relationship, holding and enjoying the smell and feel of another human being. There was only one person in New York who I had shared time wrapped together like a human pretzel—Basil Henderson. The problems with Basil were many, from not knowing what to expect after he'd gotten his sex off to knowing he would spend half the time with an I-told-you-so grin on his face. Still, his was a handsome face with a body to match, so I picked up the phone and dialed his number. I was hoping to leave a message and then it would be up to Basil to get back to me, but after a couple of rings he picked up the phone.

“'Sup, playa,” Basil said.

“How did you know it was me?” I asked.

“Dawg, I told you, I got a special ring to let me know when you're calling,” Basil said, laughing.

“So, what are you doing?”

“At this moment?” Basil asked.

“Yeah.”

“Sitting here at my desk, looking at a blank computer screen, with my drawers down and my jimmie on hard,” Basil said.

“What you gonna do about that?” I asked. I could see his fine ass, and I knew this was just what I needed if I could stand the consequences of feeling guilty once I had released some tension.

“I was just wondering about that. I know what I'd like to do,” Basil said with sex dripping through the phone.

“So are you gonna put on some clothes?” I asked.

“Now, why would I want to do that?” Basil asked.

“Might be kinda hard, pun intended, if you had to get in a taxi to come see me with just your drawers on,” I said. Maybe Basil would realize I wasn't as square as he thought I was when it came to sex, but it had to be on my terms and on my court.

“So you want a brotha to leave his comfortable pad with this big ole bed and big ole hard-on to come uptown to see you?”

“I promise you it will be worth it. Remember, it's been a long time for me,” I said.

“Now you talkin', dawg. Two days is a long time for anybody,” Basil said, laughing.

“So, what's it gonna be?” I asked.

“Give me thirty minutes,” Basil said.

“I'll give you an hour, and not a minute more,” I said.

“I'm on my way. Holla!”

I smiled a satisfied smile to myself and headed to my bathroom to see how my skin and body were looking. I had a five o'clock shadow, so I decided to shave and give myself a quick facial. I was feeling a little buzz from the wine and swaying to Janet's sensual voice.

I turned on the shower, and when steam covered the door, I stepped in and enjoyed the pulse as I soaped up my sex with the vision of naked Basil in my head. I tried to remember the last time I had seen Basil totally naked, and when I couldn't, I knew it had been too long. Suddenly I realized I didn't have any condoms or lube, since I had thought I would abstain until I found love. A pledge that I was beginning to realize was going to be hard to keep, and nobody really gave a damn.

I jumped out of the shower, put on my jeans without drawers, pulled a sweater over my head and slipped on my loafers. I was thankful there was a drugstore a block and a half away.

The night air was cool and crisp and I started to go back inside to get a jacket, but time was moving fast, so I jogged down the sidewalk until I reached the stoplight. It was flashing
DON
'
T WALK,
but I didn't see any cars coming so I raced across the street and moments later into the drugstore. I immediately spotted the condoms at the register and I felt like a horny high school boy purchasing his first package of rubbers, as we called them back in the day.

“Can I have a three-pack of the Magnums?” I said nervously to a wiry girl with braces and fire-red hair. She didn't look old enough to be selling condoms, but I didn't care.

“We have a twelve-pack too. Would you like to see them?” she asked.

“I'll take them,” I said as I stuck my hands into my front pockets, but all I felt were my keys. I tapped the back of my jeans and let out a sigh of relief when I discovered my wallet. I opened it and didn't see any money, but I did have my credit cards.

I pulled one out and placed it on the counter. The young girl picked it up and then said, “I'll need to see some ID.”

I was about to go off and tell her that what she was asking was against the law but decided that would only cause more frustration. I laid my driver's license down on the counter and mumbled, “All this for some condoms.”

The young girl compared my license with my credit card and then passed them both back to me along with a small bag containing the condoms. I raced back to my apartment, and when I got back upstairs I felt sweaty and decided I needed another shower. This way I could lotion up and make sure I had on the right pair of come-and-get-to-this underwear.

After my shower I located the perfect pair of navy blue nylon boxers and I finally felt ready for John Basil Henderson and his substantial body. I was feeling so sexual that I thought maybe this time I could teach him a trick or two. I reminded myself that I was looking for lust, not love.

Two hours and three glasses of wine later, and after being caressed by the sounds of Angie Stone, Janet and Maxwell, I decided to carry my tired ass to bed. I started to call Basil and see if he was all right, but I thought maybe he'd gotten a better offer and that Basil, the original down-low brotha, hadn't changed. Never could, never would.

13
__________________

Kai moved through the lobby of the Lowell Hotel like she was walking the runway—unhurried, despite being thirty minutes late. She looked like a model, with her long auburn hair worn in loose waves and wearing a rayon jersey dress with a suede belt.

“Zola, I'm sorry, hon. I don't know what happened to the day,” she said when she saw me shaking my head and looking at my watch.

“Time is money, but you wouldn't know that since you don't have a job,” I said as I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

“Now, darling, you know what Mary J. Blige says, ‘We don't need no hateration,'” Kai said, laughing.

“Is that even a word? Hateration?” I asked as we took the elevator up to the second floor. At least once a month, usually on Fridays, Kai, Justine and I tried to get together for high tea at different hotels in the city. I had no idea what the church said about high tea.

“Hateration is a word now. Mary sang it, so it's become a part of our language,” Kai said.

“Sorry to say, you're probably right,” I said.

“Did you make a reservation?”

“I did, but not for four-thirty,” I said. I looked in toward the area where the hotel served tea and saw that it was only three-fourths filled and hoped there wouldn't be a problem getting seating.

“Is Justine going to join us?” Kai asked.

“I doubt it. I left her an e-mail. I didn't feel like hearing that having tea might fall under worshiping the devil too,” I said.

“What are we going to do with her?”

“I'm through. Until she comes to her senses, I'm going to keep my distance,” I said.

The hostess told us they had plenty of room and seated us at a marvelous corner table. The room was cozy and beautifully appointed.

“Where did you get those earrings?” I asked as I admired a pair of sterling-silver clover studs adorning Kai's ears. The girl had great taste when it came to jewelry.

“Let's just say they came in an aqua box,” Kai said, smiling.

“A gift from one of your new beaus?”

“No, darling. Thanks to my ex, I don't need the new men to buy me anything,” Kai said proudly.

“So, have you talked to Justine?” I asked.

“No. I left her a couple of messages. To tell you the truth, after the way you said she carried on at the lunch you two had, I made sure to call when I knew she wouldn't be there. From what I can tell, she's at church almost every evening. I mean, I'm happy she's happy being a Christian, but this is just weird,” Kai said.

“They say there are two kinds of Christians, real Christians and crazy Christians,” I said.

“I still can't believe Justine came out of her face saying you were envious of her because she had something you didn't,” Kai said.

“Me either,” I said as I picked up the menu in the middle of the table. The waiter came over and we ordered high tea.

“I guess you shouldn't be surprised,” Kai said.

“Surprised about what?”

“That Justine was jealous of the life you lead. Are you sure she never showed any of that when you two were growing up?”

“Not at all,” I said firmly.

“Maybe she was keeping it to herself. Now, I'm not saying she wasn't a true friend, because you know I love the girl. But when I was in high school there was a girl named Tiffany who pretended to be my friend because my family had a little something and I was in the A group, you know, the popular girls. By the time we were seniors, Ms. Tiffany didn't feel like she needed me as her friend because her once-single nurse mother got lucky and married a doctor. Miss. T. carried on like she was the princess of a small country. She suddenly became too grand for me,” Kai said.

“Thankfully I never had that problem until now. I can tell you, it hurts deep that it's Justine. But I'll survive,” I said.

The waiter served our tea and placed a tower of scones and finger sandwiches in the middle of the table. I picked up a scone, broke it open and spread a little dab of clotted cream. I told myself to eat only half, since I hadn't been to the gym all week.

“So what exciting thing did you do today?”

“Oh, we had a staff meeting about the sexiest man contest. We've already put it up on the Web site. We're going to choose fifteen semifinalists and then narrow it down to four winners. We'll give each guy three months, you know, like giving them each a different season. I talked to our marketing department and they are going to do giveaways on radio stations of posters of the men and maybe even a calendar. We're going to bring the final four to New York for photo sessions with a couple of big-name photographers and just let the winners run wild in the city for a weekend. It's going to be so much fun,” I said.

“Just make sure I get a first look so I can tell you which three I want to spend some time with,” Kai said.

“By the time we get to the end of the contest, you might have already found Mr. Right,” I said.

“Zola, I ain't looking for Mr. Right. Matter of fact, I'm not interested in anybody that's serious. Life is too short for that,” Kai said.

“Then what are you looking for?”

“Two kinds of sex,” Kai said quickly.

“Two kinds?” I repeated.

“Yes, love. Great and greater,” Kai said.

“I've been thinking about cutting Jabar loose,” I said.

“Why are you going to do that?” Kai asked.

“It's not going anywhere, and I think maybe it's time for the two of us to stop using each other,” I said.

“I thought you said the sheets were sweet,” Kai said.

“They are. Amazing sex, but when we finish we just sit there, making small talk,” I said as I picked up the teacup and sipped some of the steaming brew. It was just right.

“If you ask me, that's more than enough. I don't want to hear what no man got to say, because nine times out of ten it's a lie. ‘I love you. You're the only woman in my life. I want to take care of you,' and on and on. I don't want to hear a bunch of empty promises.”

“I think you're setting yourself up,” I said.

“For what?”

“For love,” I said, smiling.

Kai leaned over, peered into my teacup and asked, “What did you put in that tea besides cream?”

“Wisdom, sweetheart. A little bit of wisdom.”

All I could do was shake my head and smile when I saw Kai step out of the back seat of a black town car on Harlem's edge at Ninety-third and Broadway. When she walked over to where Hayden and I were standing, I pulled her close to me and said, “We're supposed to be incognegro, girl. You look like you just leaped off the pages of
Bling Bling.”

“If that's supposed to be a compliment, I'll take it,” Kai said, pulling the sheer black veil of her pillbox hat over her face. “I was raised to dress for church, and there's got to be a few sinner men here,” she said, tugging at the bottom of her black silk bolero jacket.

“Some of these folks look like they're going to a Prince concert with cheap tickets,” Hayden said. He was dressed down in tight jeans, a white collarless pullover and a chocolate-brown leather jacket. A tiny gold cross dangled at his neck. It looked beautiful, and so I moved toward him for a closer inspection.

“Where did you get this?” I asked.

“I always had it. Got it when I was high school and I was trying to have this boy who was really into the church and God. It didn't get me anywhere, but I feel if there are any demons in this church, this will save me,” Hayden said.

“Let's go in and see what's going on,” I said as I hooked elbows with Kai and Hayden and we made our way into the gothic-style sanctuary arm in arm. Most of the congregation were searching for seating as close to the front as they could, while we headed directly for the very last row of pews, as close to the polished wood double doors as we could get.

“Zola,” Kai said, looking at the rows and rows of churchgoers who had completely filled the church, “do you see Justine anywhere?”

“The question, Kai,” Hayden said, “is can Justine see us?” We looked at one another, pulled out our sunglasses and put them on.

“Oh, that's great! Now we look like a cross between three blind mice and the FBI,” I said.

“Honey, it's a good thing we got these glasses on. Do you see some of the dresses these sisters are wearing? When did Stevie Wonder start designing dresses?” Hayden asked, laughing.

A middle-aged lady in a black usher's outfit with a starched white collar was at the end of a pew, looking at us like an angry librarian. I knew she would be watching us the rest of the service.

A five-piece combo at the right of the stage started to play a rousing, jazzed-up rendition of “Lift Him Up,” complete with a thigh-slapping tambourine. The back doors opened and in marched a choir, bringing most of the members of the congregation to their feet, swaying and clapping to the beat. Hayden jumped up and began singing along with the choir, until Kai pulled him back down by his jacket.

“Sit down!” she commanded. “Do you want Justine to spot us?”

“How's she gonna see us all the way back here? You know her man is an associate minister, so they've got to be sittin' up front with the other hoity-toity of the church,” Hayden protested.

Kai just looked at him like he had no sense at all. “Hayden, she doesn't have to see you; she will hear your off-key ass demolishing this song!”

“Kai, I will slap you through that stained-glass window for hatin' my singing. I was in both the junior and adult choir at my church back home. I am a member of AFTRA and SAG. I get paid to sing,” Hayden said.

“Stop it, you two,” I said as I noticed our usher friend looking in our direction with a frown.

When the music stopped and people settled back down in their seats, Hayden spotted Justine in the center of the second pew from the front. She was sitting next to a thin man who had his left arm around her broad back, the other resting on the back of the pew. Even from where we sat, we could see that his wristwatch looked like a faux Rolex and the gold chain-link bracelet on the arm around Justine was way too shiny. We couldn't tell, however, if the diamond-studded ring on his left pinkie was real or Memorex.

I looked around and saw that most of the women were wearing jewelry. If this was a cult, it was dumb to let its members keep all this bling.

I also noticed that this wasn't an all-black church, as I had expected. I saw people of all different colors. There were two middle-aged white women seated next to me. I saw some Asians intermingled with Mexicans. It was truly a mixed bag, and everyone seemed comfortable. This wasn't a church the cast of
Friends
had discovered.

“Welcome, everybody! Do you love the Lord?” a large black man asked, his arms outstretched toward the congregation. “One love!” He wore a kente dashiki, and I guess he was either the minister or the leader of the alleged cult, because everyone clapped when he stepped up to the microphone.

“Stand up and show the Lord you love Him,” he said. All of a sudden everyone stood and just started clapping like they were giving Jessye Norman an ovation for a diva performance. It made the tiny hair on my arms lift and separate, and I felt cold.

“Greet your neighbors, show 'em some love now,” the leader called out. Then everyone turned to the person seated next to them and hugged like they were at a family reunion. I hugged the two white women and they both whispered, “Jesus loves you and so do I.”

All I could say is “That's nice. Bless you, or whatever.”

Some of the people in the front rows were making their way to the back, kissing and hugging one another. I noticed Justine and Deacon stayed close to the front of the church, spending time chatting with each person they hugged. Kai and Hayden were doing selective greeting. I wanted to tell them they weren't at the club.

When the meet-and-greet ended, a thin black woman walked up to the pulpit and said, “We will now ask that Mother Lurline Lacy, a member in good standing and chairwoman of our fine prison outreach program, come forward and read the announcements from this week's church program. Mother Lurline.”

Hayden leaned over and whispered, “Where do I sign up for the prison program? Maybe they'll leave me there for a few days.”

I playfully slapped him on his arm.

“Why does the good mother have to read the announcements? Here they are on the back of the program,” Kai said.

I looked at her and rolled my eyes.

While the announcements were being read I looked around the beautiful old church. There were four magnificent arched windows on each side of the sanctuary. It looked as though each stained-glass piece was clearly created by different artists. One looked like it could have been somebody's twisted perception of Jesus Christ smiling while being nailed to the cross. I guess that was one point for the cult theory.