Color of Love (13 page)

“I’m glad you let me talk you into dinner,” Allen said, smiling at her over the candle.

“Are you? Why?”

“I enjoyed this. We should do this more often, you know?”

Leah looked down into her wineglass, turning it slowly by the stem. It occurred to her that Allen had become too complacent too quickly. He’d already put aside what had really happened between them. She wasn’t going to tell him that after he’d left her on Thanksgiving night, she’d spent more than two hours putting away leftover food from the dinner and cleaning the kitchen. Anything to avoid going back to her room. At one-thirty in the morning, she was changing the linens on her bed. And then she’d returned to the living room on the first floor and had spent the night on the sofa.

“Are you going to tell me about it, Allen?” she suddenly asked.

He looked puzzled. “What do you mean? Tell you what?”

Leah stared at him, trying to see if there was doubt or remorse in his eyes. She wanted to believe that Allen regretted what had happened. She sensed that he did. But Leah also sensed that, again, it had had nothing to do with her.

“About Thanksgiving, of course. Why did you do it, What were you thinking?”

“I thought you’d gotten over that,” he said defensively.

“No, I haven’t. I’ve forgiven you because I don’t think you meant to hurt me physically. That doesn’t mean I don’t want an explanation.”

“Leah …” he began reluctantly, and then stopped.

He used his index finger and thumb to smooth down his mustache while he silently regarded her. Allen, who was sharp and articulate, was clearly at a loss for words.

Leah was disappointed and she laughed derisively. “Did I really look so unbelievably great that night that you couldn’t wait until dinner had digested?”

But that only made Allen withdraw more. He sat back and his mouth became grim and taut.

Leah bent toward him and whispered, “Did you think I was flirting with Steven? I wasn’t. If anything I thought he was fresh. I—”

Allen was shaking his head. He sighed deeply. “No, no. That’s not it. Steven is an asshole. I just wanted … I don’t know. I guess I just needed to hold you and to know that you were there for me. You understand?” he asked.

Leah still stared at him. Slowly she shook her head. “No, I don’t. Because I’ve always been there for you, Allen. And if you needed to be held, all you had to do was ask. You didn’t ask, you took. And you took as if you had the right to.”

His mouth grew tighter. He shifted his gaze angrily to the side, but didn’t dispute her. He still didn’t explain, or try to put her mind at ease.

“I know I handled it wrong,” was all he said.

His response seemed shallow and irrelevant. Leah’s chuckle was silent and incredulous. “I would say so,” she murmured.

Things got awkward again when they reached Brooklyn, but Leah was thankful when Allen declined her hesitant invitation to come in. Yet he stood looking at the closed door to the brownstone as if considering whether he wanted to or not.

“No. I don’t think so. It’s not a good idea tonight,” he chuckled ruefully. His hands were jammed into the pockets of his overcoat.

Leah knew that he wasn’t going to touch her. Not even a kiss good night.

“It was a lovely evening, Allen. Thank you.” She tilted her head. “Are you feeling less guilty now?”

Allen let out a sigh but said nothing.

“Never mind. That was unfair and I guess I shouldn’t ask,” Leah murmured. Then she relented and made it easier for him in the end. “Good night, Allen. I’ll talk with you soon.” She climbed the stairs into the house.

Leah found Gail in the den with her sketch pads and materials on the floor around her, where she sat working up dress designs.

“Hi,” Leah said as she leaned in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, just a couple of ideas I had for dresses.”

Leah bent over her sister’s shoulder and examined a design for a black cocktail-length dress that had a stunning wing-like pattern of rhinestones up the torso to the, shoulders and sleeves. “I really like that one.”

“You’ve got expensive taste,” Gail said, putting the drawing aside. “That will cost a fortune to make.”

“Yeah, but then you could sell it for a fortune,” Leah reasoned, grinning.

Gail stood up from the floor. Immediately Leah noticed a cigarette burning in an ashtray on a small nearby table.

“So, how was the evening?” Gail asked pleasantly.

“It was fine. There were candles, flowers, and champagne,” Leah said with a wide grin.

“Sounds very nice. Special occasion?” Gail asked quietly.

Leah sighed and took off her coat. “No. It was a nice restaurant, but not the Rainbow Room. I see you’re smoking again.”

Gail laughed nervously. “Just a little tense, I guess. Where’s the man of the hour?”

Leah took off her coat. “He left. He didn’t want to come in. What are you so tense about? Is it work?”

Gail blew smoke, squashing her half-finished cigarette out. “It’s not important. There was a phone call for you. Someone named Jason. Who’s Jason?” she asked with a frown.

Leah looked at her sister. She wasn’t inclined to explain yet. “Just an acquaintance.”

Gail dropped a pencil on top of her sketch pad. “Well, I’m going to bed. I have a staff meeting in the morning and a trade show to attend at the Javits Center in the afternoon. I just wanted to hear how tonight went. Are you coming?”

For whatever reason, Leah could sense a certain reticence in her sister. It was unusual. She was about to ask Gail if there was some sort of problem, but she decided against it. She had enough problems of her own to consider at the moment. If Gail wanted to talk, she only had to say so.

“In a moment,” Leah said.

Gail nodded and went to put away her drawings. She finally called out good night and headed for her room above. After Leah hung up her coat, she began to feel small and adrift in the quiet of the first floor.

For a long moment she stood still with her eyes closed. A sudden overwhelming sense of loneliness came out of nowhere to wrap itself suddenly around her. She’d been serious when she told Allen the evening had been lovely. He’d certainly tried hard enough. But it hadn’t been enough. The only problem was, Leah wasn’t sure what had been missing. She felt lightheaded. And agitated.

She turned off the lights in the hallway, and halfway up the stairs the phone rang. Leah hurried back to the living room to answer. “Hello?”

“It. It’s Jay Eagle.”

For a moment Leah drew a total blank. Then she smiled. “Hello, Jay Eagle.” She could hear a great deal of noise in the background. “Where are you?” she asked, holding the receiver away from her ear.

“Hey, you guys. Quiet down! Slack, get off the court,” Jason shouted out of range of the receiver. “Sorry. I’m refereeing a basketball game. It’s halftime.”

“Oh, really? High school or a local team?”

Jason chuckled in amusement. “Spoffard.”

“Oh …” Leah responded weakly, but she recovered quickly. “How was Thanksgiving?”

“Okay, I guess. I had to work.”

“Picked the short straw, eh?” Leah teased.

“It wasn’t so bad. No major crimes committed. I guess everybody was either pigging out on turkey or busy trying to steal one.”

Leah laughed.

“And you?” he asked.

“The usual. Very traditional. My sister and I cooked for friends—” A whistle shrilled in her ear and she winced. She could hear Jason ordering someone named Slack back to the bench.

“Look, it’s crazy here. I gotta go. I have some hockey tickets for next week, and I thought maybe you could come with me.”

Leah was silent. There it was again. He wanted to see her. “That’s nice of you. But I don’t think it’s such a good idea …”

Jason didn’t get the hint.

“Come on. It’s a fun game. If you don’t know anything about it, I’ll teach you. I’m a great teacher, you know.”

“I’m sure you are, but …”

“I’d really like you to come,” he said seriously.

Leah really couldn’t imagine why. “Well …”

He laughed suddenly. “She who hesitates is lost.” Jason rattled off to Leah all the information she’d need before she could recoup and formulate a legitimate excuse.

“Jason, I—”

“Hey. I’m trained not to take no for an answer.”

He hung up.

She sat holding the receiver. And then she began to laugh.

O
N THE NIGHT OF
the hockey game it snowed. Leah had made arrangements to meet Jason in front of Madison Square Garden at six o’clock. As the afternoon wore on and the weather grew messier, Leah began to see the possibilities of not showing up at all. In the end, guilt more than curiosity forced her to not leave Jason waiting. Unreasonably, she blamed her indecision on him. The bad weather had become his fault as well.

The snow, as it turned out, was not just a first snowfall for New York, a light seasonal dusting. It was a full-fledged storm complete with slush, traffic tie-ups, and train delays. Leah had never experienced commuter rush hour at Penn Station before, and she thought it was all totally insane. She wondered how Jason was ever going to find her in the crowd.

Allen had called earlier in the week, hoping to be invited to dinner. His unexpected forwardness threw her off guard. But the thought of pretending normalcy with Allen had made Leah uncomfortable. She was relieved when she could honestly tell Allen she had other plans.

Leah had the peculiar feeling, standing up to her ankles in snow, that the world was rushing away from her in some tremendous escape. She stood looking at intense, sober faces of working men and women as they passed her on their way home. At least she wasn’t standing all alone. There was an over-padded Santa and a trio from the Salvation Army who were ringing bells and pleading for contributions.

A young man with lank blond hair passingly asked if she had hockey tickets to sell. He didn’t wait for an answer, probably assessing quickly that it was unlikely that a young black woman would have tickets to scalp. Leah looked at her watch, annoyance building. Five more minutes and she was going home.

She was aware suddenly that someone else was standing just behind her left shoulder, and when she turned her head there was a black man eyeing her. Her heart lurched and she became alert. Leah knew he wasn’t looking for tickets. She thought of moving, but forced herself to stay still, willing any threat she imagined to go away. Surely, he couldn’t get personal or violent right there?

“Bad night, right?” the man said in a friendly enough voice.

Leah huddled in her coat. He was not dressed for this kind of weather. No hat, no gloves, a shabby coat, and he was wearing sneakers. Just seeing them made her feet feel numb. “Ummm …” was her noncommittal answer.

“I could sure use something to drink. Warm me up inside. Know what I mean?”

Leah didn’t answer. She felt a hand on her arm. Her resolve to remain calm failed her. Her breath caught in her throat and she jerked away.

“How ’bout you and me—”

“The lady isn’t interested,” Jason cut in out of nowhere.

“Okay, okay,” the man said quickly, moving away into the crowd.

Leah knew a flashing moment of profound relief.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I got stuck writing out a report. Have you been waiting long?” Jason asked.

“Too long,” Leah said tartly. She was angry. “You know, I really hate just waiting. People get the wrong idea, especially around here.”

“Did anyone bother you?” Jason asked pointedly.

“Just him …” Leah motioned in the direction of the still fleeing young man. She swallowed the rest of her wrath. Took a deep breath. Jason had shown up after all.

He was wearing a dark blue sweater pulled over an open-neck shirt, jeans, and western-style boots. He wore a short leather aviation jacket and a red baseball cap. He wasn’t dressed for the weather, either.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, propelling Leah toward the entrance to the Garden.

“Yes. And cold.” Her teeth were clenched.

“Good. I’m taking you to one of New York’s finest. I discovered this place several years ago when I first started coming to the Garden. You are in for a treat.”

Leah allowed Jason to guide her with the gentle pressure of his hand on her back. At the entrance gates to the arena, Jason produced two tickets and they melded with a slowly moving procession of people headed for their seats.

Leah’s sense of the ridiculous was tickled when they stopped in front of a concession stand and Jason placed an order for franks, beer, and popcorn. They carried everything to their seats, and with a cardboard tray balanced on their laps, they had dinner. Leah couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a hot dog and ate this one with delight, enjoying the spicy brown mustard that left her tongue tingling.

While waiting for the game to start, she looked around. She noticed that seating in the arena was differentiated by colors. Their seats were yellow, which was not as good as the red, but certainly better than blue or green, which were just under the rafters. The arena was fast filling up with fans, most of them male. She saw no other black faces, and it made her feel conspicuous.

Several rows in front was a group of about thirteen adolescent boys accompanied by two middle-aged men, probably the fathers of two of the boys. Leah noticed that Jason’s gaze kept returning to the group, his expression tight and closed. She could easily guess what was going through his mind. He still saw his own son in every boy of a similar age. Leah touched his arm to divert his attention. She asked him about the rules of the game. Gratefully, and with more details than she cared about, Jason obliged.

He told her which two teams were playing, their standings in the league. He talked about the officials and penalties until it all made no sense to Leah. Jason pointed at the rink at the visiting players emerged through the a passageway and onto the ice. The crowd shouted halfhearted boos.

“See number thirty one? Right now he’s got the best season average for saves on goal.”

“What’s a save on goal?” Leah asked, watching the skaters in the bulky, padded uniforms.

“That’s when the goalie—the guy at the net—prevents the puck from scoring.”