Love UnCharted (Love's Improbable Possibility) (20 page)

I sobbed and sobbed. I mourned love lost, that which was unexpected and even that which was uncharted and yet undiscovered. I felt pain in every hollow place deep inside that Azmir filled physically and emotionally. I wept, pitying myself for opening up in ways that were past my emotional limits. I grieved for the pending nights that I wouldn’t have his lush touch, lighting the torch of my body. The touched I craved and had become desperately needy for. The one that could amend for scores of offenses.

I cried until my abs hurt.
What have I done to myself?
I knew that I simply had to ride out the pain and one day it would all dissipate. As much as I knew in my heart of hearts that I’d always love Azmir, I knew that in due time my wounded heart
and soul
would heal. I did it before…
well kinda
, but this time would be different because we blended our lives and had shared a bed.

In due time this will pass.
It would just be hell getting through the first phase of it.

My self-preservation mode was in full effect.

The next morning, I got up and out early to catch my session with Tyler. I’d spent all night debating if I should go considering Azmir paid for his services. I told myself that if it came to it, I’d see about taking on the expense alone. Tyler provided results and was worth every penny he required. He worked me over some kind of bad when we sparred that morning. He said it was because I hadn’t seen him in over a week and my muscles needed a reminder. I focused my mind and went hard, having a lot of frustration to get out.

When we were done he said with an unknowing smile, “You did well, Brimm. Let’s see if your man can measure up.”

“Huhn?” I asked, confused and completely flustered by the Azmir reference.

“Divine…he’s my next client. You must have left the house before he woke up this morning,” Tyler falsely surmised just before taking a swig of his bottled water.

“Oh,” I said and gave a contrived chuckle.

So, Azmir’s in the building?
I was surprised. It was a weekday and I guess I assumed the possibility of him being out of town on business. I was sure to maintain a swift stride to the showers to avoid running into him. Adrenaline coursed through my veins when I turned the corner, just feet away from the women’s locker room entrance and heard someone greet, “Good morning, Mr. Jacobs!”

“Good morning, Paul,” Azmir replied less enthused. My heart trembled at the sound of his silky vocal chords.

I calculated he was maybe a yard away, around the corner. I dashed into the opening of the locker room, praying that he didn’t catch my backside. I really wasn’t prepared to face him so soon. It made me consider if I should switch around my workout schedule. That idea was quickly dismissed when I remembered Azmir worked out with Tyler at various times of the day, depending on his schedule.

Crap! My life sucks!

I arrived to work and greeted Sharon when I walked through the door. Upon giving me a synopsis of my schedule, she reminded me of our full staff meeting that we would have to host next Monday because the only other conference room large enough to fit the Smith, Katz & Adams staff was at headquarters and that room was currently under construction. I volunteered hosting, knowing Azmir had several conference rooms next door that would provide ample space. I cleared it with Azmir’s people weeks ago and in that moment I wished I hadn’t.
I should have let Dan Smith cancel it until their conference room was complete!

After speaking in limited details about the food for that meeting, Sharon handed me a
Vibe
magazine edition and beamed, “It’s the latest issue and I’m sure you know that Mr. Jacobs is featured in it, but you can never have enough copies of your boyfriend in a nationally publicized magazine!” She was all teeth and gums.

“Thanks, Sharon,” was all I could manage. Of course, she wasn’t aware of our split. But then, I never told her he was my boyfriend either. I would decide on my clean up method at a later time.

I had no clue about Azmir being featured in
Vibe
. My curiosity was piqued, so I headed straight to my office and closed the door. The title was
The Top Richest Black Eligible Bachelors
and Azmir was number two on the countdown. His write up was only about a paragraph like the other mentions, but what stung me was that they listed his estimated value at over a half a billion dollars.

Is Azmir worth that much? He’s never told me that!

This is personal information being published that not even I was aware of?
I shared his bed for Christ’s sake!
Another blow was the eligible part. We’d just broken up just two days ago and I’m sure this article was written several weeks back,
at least
. He wasn’t eligible then,
was he?
The tears started again. It took a minute to get myself under control. So badly I wanted to go back next door and curse him out something painful, but I decided to spare myself the embarrassment.
He hasn’t even called!
The lyrics “
I’m gonna make it through the day
…” from my breakup-theme-song came to mind and I immediately shut down emotionally and went about my day.

Later that evening, I was sitting in Pastor Edmondson’s office, listening to him speak about the principles of hope and how it relates to faith. He sat behind his desk while I was in a chair facing him. I was jotting down notes and thought I was doing a good job at keeping up when he stopped abruptly. I looked up see what was going on. His face was angled toward his desk and he wore an expression as though he was struggling to hear something faint. I narrowed my eyebrows, confused as to what was happening.

“Rayna, is there something you’d like to share?”

What in the…?
We were just here talking about faith and you turn the corner to ask if I have questions?

Okay…

“Well…errmmm…I was going to wait until you were done to ask you to revisit the concept of the spirit of expectation and how it ties into faith again…” My tone fell because Pastor Edmondson’s searing gaze told me that we weren’t on the same page.

“Put your pad and pen down, daughter.” I did as he asked. If I didn’t trust him as much as I did he would have been freaking me out at that moment. I sat up to give him my undivided attention.

“What’s tugging at you?” he searched my eyes. “Is everything all right at work…at home?” My body chilled. I shook my head.

“Do you want to talk about it? Rayna, you know that you control these sessions. If there’s something bothering you, let’s try to take it on together.” Again, searching my eyes, he nodded, asking if I understood. I nodded in agreement. He continued, “It’s something at home. What’s going on?”

How did he know? I had to quickly decide if I was going to share or lie to keep my personal problems to myself. Solitude had been too lonely, so I went with the former.

“Azmir and I broke up,” slipped out of my mouth like melted butter. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what went wrong. I don’t know how to pin point the issue.”

“Did he say anything? Did he lodge a complaint of any kind?”

I thought long and hard about his question.

“He said that I don’t trust him enough to let my guards down to let him in. I’d just told him I loved him last week after my session with you. What more could I have done?” I was now wide-eyed in bewilderment. Slamming my face into my hands, I exhaled. “I’m so confused. I’m just horrible at interpersonal relationships.” I cried and hard.

Pastor Edmondson gave me some time. He handed me a couple of tissues when he came around to the chair next to me and sat.

“Daughter, you’re a work in progress. You told him that you loved him and that may take some time to sink in for him. You’re not horrible, you’re human. Rayna, have you shared with Azmir your fear of trust and rejection?”

My head popped up. He continued, “Have you clearly laid it out for him, starting with your mother’s neglect during her addiction, then your father’s abandonment and rejection of your family and the betrayal of your first love and childhood best friend? Did you articulate how all three incidences, taking place relatively around the same time
and in your delicate adolescent years,
scarred you?”

I shook my head at it all.

“If you want a lasting relationship with this man you must be transparent about your issues. He needs to know your strengths
and
your weaknesses. This will help guide his approach to you. It sounds as if Azmir is asking you to need him, to trust him enough to make him feel needed and well-placed in your life. Men need that. It’s in our genetic code, how God made us. You can not ask us to be anything other than what we were created to do. It is simply unnatural. Some of us are more persistent in needing our women to give us that. Azmir seems to be in that group. You have to find a way to give it to him.”

“But it’s too late.” My lips quivered as the tears wouldn’t halt. Pastor Edmondson smiled and said, “I hardly believe that. Just take some time to think about how you can improve on making Azmir feel trusted by you. You never know how things will take a turn in course.”

Pastor Edmondson asked if I’d prayed since the ordeal. I was dumbstruck because not at one time did I consider it.
Crap!
I thought I had gotten better in my walk. We sat in prayed for my peace of mind and heart during this learning period of my life. It was a calming experience. I’d just wish it had immediate effects. I knew that I was in for the long haul.

My ride home was reflective. The more I tried to consider Pastor Edmondson’s words, the more I recalled that Azmir had not tried to reach out to me since the night I left the marina. This didn’t help lift my self-preservation manner. I turned up the volume and allowed Blu Cantrell’s
Blu Is A Mood
to flow through my speakers; because although the blue she sang about was beautiful and positive, the mood that I’d taken on during this whole madness was melancholy-blue in spirit. I guess I could call this a “Blu Cantrell breakup.”

I pulled into my driveway with the same song blasting and as I got out of the car, I noticed the same car about two houses up that I’d been seeing for the past two days. What made the experience creepy were the tinted windows.
Why?
I made a mental note that I would call the cops if the car ever parked closer to my house.

Not thinking much further about it, I changed into my workout gear and took to my dance room where I tried out a few moves that came to mind while rocking to
Blu Is A Mood
. This was the only time I didn’t feel pain, when I moved freely and creatively to the jazzy tune. I must have been in there for two hours before assessing that I was tired enough to shower and fall right to sleep.

Who needs to eat? Let’s rush time by!

The following day was hell and tested my separation endurance. Thank goodness it was Friday and I could go into a weekend cocoon that minimized the likelihood of me running into Azmir. There was still no word from him and I held mix feelings about that. What was worse was Sharon handing me a package that was hand-delivered by someone on Azmir’s staff just before I’d gotten in.

Once retreated into the privacy of my office, I opened it to find my iPad. I got lightheaded for a brief moment.
Why would he send this to me?
I’d had a wardrobe fit for a troop in his closet,
but he returns my iPad?
I was so baffled. I didn’t even power it on, just placed it in a desk draw and shrugged it off in anger.

That was the first dud of my Friday.

I’d just come from getting a quick manicure and pedicure on my lunch and pulled into the closest parking space I could find near the practice. The sky had cracked over SoCal and the rain was coming down in buckets. I turned off the ignition when I saw Azmir’s black Range Rover near the side entrance of the rec center where he typically entered and exited the building. Considering the smoke from the exhaust pipe in the rear, I could tell the truck was running and wondered if he was inside. I waited to see if I could catch a glimpse of him. As I sat there arguing with myself about being a glutton for punishment, I debated making a dash for the building although my toes were exposed in my flip-flops. That’s when I saw the side door burst open with two women coming out of the building, holding up umbrellas and laughing excitedly. It didn’t take long for me to notice they were Dawn Taylor and Shayna Bacote, getting into the truck.

Seconds later, Azmir appeared behind them, using his raincoat—that he donned so well—to cover his head.
Man, does he drip sexiness in everything he wears?
Brett was on his heels as the four of them piled into Azmir’s truck.
What in the…?
Were they double dating? I knew that thought was incredulous, but the searing pain in the pit of my belly felt otherwise. I sat in my car—the car that Azmir had given me—and bawled my eyes out
again
.

The rain ran into the following day. I stood at my living room window and watched it come down through the blinds. It was six in the morning and I had to get over to Adrian’s for my hair appointment. I needed pampering to help lift my spirits. Pastor Edmondson’s admonishment for my lack of prayer in the course of this break-up rang in my mind. So, before heading out I fell to my knees there in my living room and spoke a few silent words that eventually turned into pouring out my fears, disappointments and requests audibly through tears. It was very cathartic. When I was done, I washed my face and hit the door.