The Countdown to Thirty (17 page)

“Hello?” I griped in an annoyed tone that should have told
whoever was calling that I wasn’t happy being bothered at twelve-thirty in the
morning.

“Can we talk?” A male voice asked.

“I guess I was still sleepy because the voice didn’t
resonate in my mind. I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at the
caller ID only to see that it was Malcolm. While Sonya was trying her best to
keep my spirits up after the gym incident earlier I’d ignored two of his texts
and one phone call – which didn’t even come until nearly four hours after I
left the gym.

“What do you want?”

“I’ve been trying to talk to you. Why haven’t you answered
any of my text?”

He was angry and his voice demanded answers. Suddenly I felt
like a little girl being questioned by her father about not turning in her
schoolwork on time or making her bed before she left for the day. He caught me
off guard and I just used the first excuse that came to mind.

“I’ve been busy, sorry,” I said while sitting up in bed. I
wasn’t sorry though. All the signs were clear, as Sonya mentored earlier. He’s
been nothing but a liar and a cheat during our entire relationship.

“Busy doing what? You dealing with somebody else already?”

I tisk’d in disbelief. Wasn’t that classic behavior of a cheating
bastard, to accuse the other person of being low-down and filthy because they
couldn’t keep their dick in the pants? Then I remembered my kiss with
Christian, shit.

“No, it’s not like that. I didn’t like what I saw at the gym
today Malcolm, you and that
girl
. It looked like there was more than
just training going on.”

He cackled, “You’re too smart to be stupid so why don’t you
stop making stupid accusations like that. How is there going to be more going
on when I’m in the middle of a gym full of people. I’m coming over we need to
talk about this. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“No!” I disputed, “Did you sleep with her?”

There was hesitation on the end of the line, “What are you
talking about? I’m coming over.”

“Malcolm please, just tell me. Did you?”

He hesitated again, “Yea, but it was while we were on break?
Does that make you happy?”

“On break, are you kidding me!”

“Look, just let me come over and talk to you.”

I screamed louder this time, “No! We have nothing to talk
about.”

He laughed, “You know it’s cool Kaia. I just wanted to be a
man about this situation and let you know in person that this shits not working
for me right now anyway. You’re not what I’m looking for.”

That comment pierced my heart like a dagger. This didn’t
make any sense. None of this lined up to what we talked about at lunch only
days ago. After buying all his crap about him coming to his senses and
apologizing after realizing how dumb and insensitive he’d been towards me I
actually believed he wanted to commit to me with all his heart and soul. But I
knew now that that was just a fantasy and that this was the reality of the
situation. I had no choice but to move-on.

“Well you know what Malcolm, apparently nothings working for
you right now, you’re divorce, your finances. As a matter of fact you’re the
one calling me-off-the hook at twelve thirty in the morning. Go to hell!” I
screamed before hanging up the phone.

The waterworks began and even though I tried I couldn’t stop
them. I laid back down and let myself feel the pain, let the hurt engrave this
memory in my heart so I would never be so stupid again. I promised myself that
when I woke up for work the next morning, I wouldn’t let this affect me. I had
to move-on with my life before thirty or I was likely to be stuck in this same
cycle for the rest of my life. I told myself to stop dreaming about the perfect
family and let life run its course, whatever that course may be.

Sonya

Last Thursday I got a call from the accounting manager at
Maddison’s Apparel requesting an in-person interview with yours truly.
Maddison’s is a popular mid-sized women’s boutique here in the valley that
specializes in reasonably priced high end fashion apparel for matured women and
young adults. They have three popular locations in Las Vegas alone. Debbie -
the Accounting Manager - said she received my application for their Accounting
Assistant position and that she wanted to invite me in today for a paneled
group interview.

“Great! But are you going to hire me though?”

That was the question I wanted to ask while she explained
the position details and the interpersonal skills one needed to be successful
at the job. I was more than interested but I knew better than to get my hopes
up too high, the competition was stiff and everybody and their mama was looking
for a job these days. However, I was just grateful for the fact that when I got
back to Vegas I finished the additional classes in accounting to get my AA or
else this wouldn’t’ve even been a possibility.

I released a moan, then another one, and then another one as
my body was hit with uninterrupted surges of pleasure, “Oh baby,” I moaned.

“Aaah yesss, ohhh,” he moaned as he grabbed my hips while
steadily pounding away.

His deep pounding was perfect, it was neither painful nor
bland, and every stroke was engineered to perfection like his dick was made
just for my…well you know. It got so damn good it caused my insides to burst as
I screamed with pleasure and my body got exactly what it needed after years of
sexual drought.

“Yes, K-, Kyle! Fuck me!”

“Shit! I’m coming, I’m coming,” he moaned as he pumped
faster and faster reveling in ecstasy then released as we both lost ourselves
in an orgasmic trance.

A calm and comfortable feeling eased over my body as I took
a moment to catch my breath. It didn’t get any better than this. I stretched
out across the bed like a sexy black cat purring after her morning snack. I
felt liberated, rejuvenated and most importantly satisfied at another
victorious sex session with Kyle. Number three to be exact and not once has he
disappointed me. I loved this. I could almost do it all day if it wasn’t
counterproductive to my priorities.

Last week after Kyle was generous enough to buy me a car
battery and replace it for me with no complaints or subtle guilt trips, I was
very grateful to say the least. He saved me from having to call in another
family favor and from being stuck in the parking lot of CVS during the
aftermath of a storm. So that night when we were in front of Auto Zone and he
dropped the hood after installing the battery and told me I was “good to go”, I
already had my number written down on a piece of paper and handed it to him
before I pulled off into the wet darkness. Surprising right? Me, give my number
to a man? Well it wasn’t just for his benefit but for mines to. My body has
needs and apparently my vibrator isn’t as reliable of a source as I thought it
was so a plan B was in order. Besides, those butterflies in my stomach weren’t
fluttering just because. It was my bodies signal that he was the one to who could
satisfy my fleshly cravings.

I stood up and began to search around the room for my jeans,
my socks and my bikini cut underwear when I noticed Kyle’s eyes following my
every move.

I looked at him as I found my underwear and began to put
them back on, “What?” I asked suspiciously.

“Why do you always do that?” He asked turning on his side
and resting his head on his fist.

“Do what?”

“Get up and leave right after. You scared to talk to me or
something?” He asked in his baritone voice.

I wasn’t scared to talk to Kyle, I just didn’t need to. We
were having sex, that’s it, why overcomplicate the situation. Besides, I knew
my weakness for pretty men far better than anyone else and if I stayed to
entertain him in pillow talk it was probable that I’d revert back to my old
ways and get all soft and mushy and caught up in a love situation I didn’t
want. My being here and even allowing myself a few lustful moments was already
out of my range, and now he wanted to talk?
He really must not know me.

“I have an interview at one, I have to get ready.” I
responded

“Where at?” he asked still trying to pursue me into
conversation.

I gave him a skeptical look before responding, “A retail
store, it’s for an accounting position so we’ll see what happens.” I said
sliding my jeans around my slender waist and buttoning them.

He removed the white sheet that was covering his long
chiseled dark chocolate frame and stood as he put on his green boxers followed
by his grey sweat pants. I shamefully stole brief glances at him as he shook his
head sending his beautiful dreads flying into the air before he gathered them
into a bun at the crown of his head. He walked over to me and leaned against
the wall as he watched me fasten my bra.

“What?” I questioned shyly.

He smiled and shook his head, “Nothing, just watching you.”

His lingering gaze over me made me feel uncomfortable. It
wasn’t the act of his gaze itself that gave me that feeling but what it
represented, what he wanted from me that I couldn’t give him that made me feel
uncomfortable. First he just wants to help me out with my car, now we’re
fucking, next he wants me to stay around for pillow talk, then lastly I get my
emotions involved and fall head over heels for him when he decides to break my
heart. I can’t go through that again, I’m not strong enough; I’ll never be
strong enough.

“I have to go.” I said pulling my white sweatshirt over my
head while I slid into my slides.

He didn’t try to hold me up. He grabbed his shirt from the
twisted and tangled bed sheets then replied, “I’ll walk you down.”

A teeny tiny part inside of me wished I could stay longer
but I did a good job at ignoring that feeling. As we walked down the hallway I
took a few moments to admire his beautiful home. It was by far the nicest
bachelor pad I’ve ever seen. The walls were painted a neutral sandy brown color
and the ceilings were high. The high walls provided plenty of windows which
allowed ample amounts of natural sunlight to shine to the living room below.
His white carpet was fresh and clean, free of any blemishes and his sleek black
leather sofa’s matched the large black picture frames he had elegantly placed
around the house.

My initial guess was that some woman had decorated this for
him, an ex-girlfriend or wife perhaps, but when he told me he completed the designs
from the burgundy accent walls to the drapes that hung from the windows I was
surprised. I guess the only real indication that a bachelor did live here was
the mahogany pool table that took the place of an actual dining set in his
formal dining room.

“So when am I gonna see you again Ms. Sonya?” He asked
smoothly while he wrapped his arms around me kissing me on my forehead.”

“I don’t know. We can’t all be lucky like you. Some of us
have to work, or look for work in order to make a living.” I said light
heartedly as I gently broke the embrace of our hug and headed for the front
door.

“Hmm, trust me I’d trade it all in.”

I didn’t know what he meant by that. Why would someone trade
this in? He owned a beautiful home and a twenty unit apartment complex, not bad
at all for a young black man who hadn’t even reached the age of thirty yet.
He’d somehow been blessed enough to have all of these things but spent most of
his time handling maintenance requests and make-ready’s with the assistance of
a tech. I wouldn’t trade that in for anything in the world. Most guys his age
would use it as a tool to gain popularity or some kind of false self-esteem
about themselves but Kyle didn’t. He had a humble nature when it came to his
possessions, which is why he was so tolerable.

“Well, guess I’ll check you later then,” He said as we stood
at the front door, “Good luck, you’ll get it.” He said with more confidence in
that statement than I had.

I opened the door and thanked him before I got in my car and
headed for home. Through my rear view mirror I watched him linger at the front
porch until I turned the corner and he disappeared back into the house.

Even after giving Kyle my number that night I was still a
little skeptical about us going to school together. That’s why I did some
investigative digging until I was able to confirm he was who he actually said
he was. Words didn’t really mean jack shit to me. Thanks to the power of the
internet everybody has the ability of obtaining just about any information they
want about you and in my opinion that didn’t exclude my high school class
schedule.

So with that being said, the day after our CVS run in I went
to my mother’s house and helped myself through dusty boxes of books and family
photos she had packed away in the garage. She’d told me that my high school
memorabilia was stashed away somewhere in there and to help myself. After about
an hour of searching through various brown boxes and shifting Christmas
decorations, bicycles and my mother’s discontinued exercise equipment I began
to get irritated and give up altogether. That was until I saw my name written
in black marker next to the words ‘high school stuff’. I bent down and picked
up the box which was behind a large framed picture of the Golden Gate Bridge
that my mother could never seem to get rid of. When I opened it and began going
through its contents: a plethora of academic awards, a junior varsity letter
for cheerleading, pictures from pep rallies and finally my award winning poem I
wrote sophomore year I began to dwindle down memory lane wondering where the
time went.

“I thought I had it all planned out.” I’d said to myself
shaking my head at how naïve I really was.

I looked at a picture of me and Nina and the rest of our
crew of six as we posed for the camera in the bleachers of a basketball game.
We were all similarly dressed in light blue short shorts and knee high socks
with our schools mascot. I shook my head in disbelief at how tiny Nina used to
be. But of course, these were the days before the kids. Even though she gained
a lot of weight carried it very well. She doesn’t have a shred of cellulite or
any stretch marks thanks to her “God given good genes and blood straight from
the fountain of youth,” as she calls it.

I laughed to myself, “Arrogant heffa.”

At the bottom of the box I’d finally found what I’d been
relentlessly digging for in that cold garage, my senior annual.

I flipped through the pages searching for the senior class
photos section then began skimming the J’s with my finger.

“James…Jensen…John…” I’d whispered to myself during my
pursuit, “C’mon where are you?”

A moment later my finger stopped at the forth Johnson, I
read the proceeding name; Kyle and knew I had my man. His photo was second to
last in the row, right next to Latisha Johnson who was better known for dunking
on dudes in the basketball court than for her beauty.

I only needed to study his photo for a second before
realizing exactly who he was.

“Kyle!” I exclaimed in disbelief as I’d walked back into my
mother’s house.

“What! Who is he?” My mother shouted from the kitchen.

I can’t believe I didn’t remember him, Kyle, the guy who
always had a pair of headphones around his neck and the lyrical genius who set
the senior talent show on fire two weeks before graduating and became an
instant celebrity around campus.

“Who is he?” My mother had asked again.

“Just a guy I ran into at CVS yesterday,” I played it off.
“We used to go to high school together but I didn’t recognize him. Here look.”

She’d nodded her head in approval. “He’s handsome.”

He looked so much younger here, but I guess we all did. His
face was still strongly chiseled and his pretty brown eyes and silky black
lashes looked very familiar now. The only difference besides eight years of
aging and this grown man confidence he now had was his hair. It was cut short
back then.

“Is he single? If so, I hope you gave him your number.”

“Mama,” I’d griped.

I’d wondered if they were ever going to give up on this
matchmaking business.

v
 
 

I walked into Madison’s a half hour before my appointment
time hoping that would score me a few points with the store manager and
accounting manager. Before checking in I made a stop at the bathroom to check
my makeup before making my way to the back offices. At least that was the
excuse I told myself. The real truth was that I felt nervous, I didn’t know how
much longer I could go being unemployed. Even though my part-time gig with
Saundra was tax free and I had my weekly unemployment check, that money was
going to run out soon. To top it off, I had a disconnect notice from the power
company and I was late again on my car payment. And if that wasn’t bad enough
my period was also late which told me from experience it was going to be a
rough one this month with all the cramps, lower back pains and extreme tittie
tenderness to go along with it.

I stood at the mirror checking myself for any imperfections.
I was wearing my same blue DKNY suit I’d worn to the job fair but this time
dressed it up with a classy satin blouse, long chain gold necklace and pretty
diamond studs in my ears. While looking at myself I began to wonder if it was
either too nice, too fancy or both.

“Maybe they don’t think I need a job, I do look like a
million bucks.” I said admiring myself in an attempt to get some kind of
comedic relief from my troubles. “Oh well, I can’t do much about it now.”

Just then the toilet flushed and an artificial looking
blonde with a serious boob job walked out of the bathroom stall. I thought I
was alone in here.