Chapter Eighteen

“Jamal, what do you want from me?” She looked at him with pained eyes and anger creasing her brows. The only thing left were tears which she vowed to never let them escape from her eyes.

He felt a lump in his throat and now that he got a chance with her, he didn’t have the nerve to speak. He just wanted to be by her side. In the awkward silence she decided to leave him for her room but he stopped her before she could take another step. With hands trembling, he slowly pulled her close into a firm embrace. Her heart thumped at different cadences all at the same time and she felt herself gradually dissolve into his warmness. It was clear that he still tugged on her heartstrings.

“Why are you doing this to me, Jamal?” Her voice was gruff with emotion.

“Keisha… I shouldn’t have left you,” his strong arms still wrapped around her. Her heart literally drummed against his touch.  She could hardly flinch. Many things raced through her mind at that point that she almost forgot what had kept her bitter all those years. Nevertheless she needed to protect those memories. She needed to remind herself of everything they did to her so she doesn’t forget who she is. That she is a failure, a shameless child, a shattered soul… a charity case. 

“Let go of me, Jamal.” Her throat tightened as one struggling to breathe. 

“I said let go of me,” she shoved him off with the little might she could muster. Her eyes were red with outrage and resentment. He held his hands to himself and looked away from her, ashamed. 

“I’m sorry, Keisha… I’m sorry I wasn’t there that night when you needed me the most-“

“No need to apologize. You were where you needed to be,” she sighed, settling into a bit of false calmness because her heart definitely wasn’t. It was as if every word from him crushed it further. 

“I’m sorry I was too dumb to not think much of how you felt or even sort out my feelings. It’s just that-“

“It’s all in the past now, Jamal. You don’t have to bring it up again.”

“But what about me? Do you know how all these years have been for me?”

“I really don’t want to know, Jamal. I can take a guess with no one telling me anything. Living in paradise with your trophy wife? No thank you, I don’t have to know. Now please leave…”

He stared at her, speechless. He predicted the chilly treatment but not to this extent. She turned to leave him alone.

“I thought I loved her…” he conceded to himself, finally choosing to face the fearful truth he was too scared to admit to. Those words did little to help the situation, instead, it roused every anger she had tried so hard to contain. She simpered at the thought of it.

“You’re very heartless, Jamal,” she chuckled, too revolted to even look him in the face. 

“That’s right. Because you’ve always had my heart and I didn’t know it… All these years I only thought about how much I hurt you. I thought I needed just your forgiveness. I thought I just regretted not trusting you but I just realized all I ever did was deceive myself. It’s not closure I needed. It was you all along but I found out too late, Shasha…” he looked at her with tearful eyes. His voice was barely heard from all the emotions that poured into him.

“I don’t think I’m familiar with that pick up line but it was worth the shot,” she quipped. 

He didn’t respond to that but he figured he could try another way to get through the angry young lady. He cautiously inched a little closer to her and she got flustered. Was her way of driving him away lacking something? Or had he just become audacious. She didn’t understand what was going on with her. She had spent the past weeks figuring out how to respond to him should she ever cross paths with him and now he was there but didn’t have a single strong bone in her to stand her ground to the end. She quivered in all kinds of emotions and it was hurting her more than anything that she couldn’t express everything she had felt all these years. It was depressing to feel like a stray puppy who was desperate for affection. He took her cute trembling hands in his and pulled her to himself. 

Tipping her chin upwards she raised her moist eyes to meet his. She saw her reflection in them- her pathetic self from years ago to now. 

“I know how much I’ve hurt you all these years and I want to believe that you don’t hate me so much  but even if you do, I’m going to still stay by your side and take in whatever you do to me without complaining. What I mean is,  I’m not walking away from you again, Keisha and I’m promising you that,” he pledged.

“That’s a hard promise to keep,” she chortled. Feeling pitiful  for even considering the chance for it to be true. 

“But I’m going to keep it. For now, permit me to do this,” he hesitated a little, pulling closer to her and gently pressed her lips with his. For a moment, she submitted to the thoughts she’d been plagued with ever since she saw him and clutched onto his shirt, allowing her many years of longing to lead her. His heart raced even faster as he sensed the same desire from her. He hardly thought of anything else.  Not Marissa. Not the vows he said before the altar. Nor Darren, even. He held her closer and took a fill of the moment disregarding the warning thumps his heart gave him to stop. They would have gone all the way had they not felt that invisible prompt to rein in their horses. He held her forehead to his and continued to make promises she knew he wouldn’t keep.

“This means so much to me, Keisha”. Of course it would. That’s what anyone burning with lust would say.

“Don’t think much of it. I’d do this with any man who tickles my fancy” she took his hands off her.

“I only kissed you because I’ve always wanted to do that with you as a child,” feeling like she’s finally snapped back from the spell she was under. 

“I don’t care about that. I know you and that’s alright with me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Jamal. If you really knew me then you’d know I’d never kiss a married man. And to think I don’t feel the slightest remorse for it,” she sneered, looking him dead in the eye. The words stung and she gripped on that one opportunity to be the person she had finally accepted to be.

“The Keisha before you is just a selfish slut who lives a life curious to know how the men she prefers would be, with her in bed.” He wasn’t expecting that but he was certainly feeling gracious enough to look past that. 

“The girl you’ve always known would never trade herself for anything. She’d never talk dirty. She’d never flush down the lives of innocent children in the toilet or defraud people. As it stands now, that’s my record, so I’m afraid I’m not your best decision now.” She said, throwing  her hands in the air and bringing them back on her waist. It was clear what she was implying- she’s never going to change.

“Let’s not forget I’ve lived on crack too and I don’t think you’d want a crack girl as your woman. But I appreciate your consideration of me. I’m touched. When you’re ready to leave, the door is behind you,” she chuckled at him and left him alone to her room. Jamal watched as she walked away and was too spineless to stop her. Feeling defeated within himself, he turned and  saw himself out but he wasn’t going to give up that easily.

She threw herself on the bed coiling herself up like a little girl in the corner. Things could have gotten out of hand earlier but she couldn’t help beating herself up over and over again for feeling so dumb back there. It felt like she hadn’t changed after all. She scrambled through her wastebasket to see if she could find any remains of the cigars she used before. Spotting a short piece in there doused in its ashes, she grabbed it with trembling hands like some hungry animal not caring about the other dirt marks glued on it. She lit it several times until it ignited and drank in a full dose of its magic to calm her nerves. A moment later,  she could feel every part of her tremble, craving for a touch, no matter how soothing or gruff. She wanted to be held, that’s all she cared about. 

She dragged herself into the bathroom and turned on the shower to its highest as though she was going to drown in it. She stayed beneath it for the longest time replaying all those suggestive scenes she had thought of earlier. As if keeping her head long enough in there will cleanse her thoughts, she stood still not turning the slightest inch away from it.

After what seemed like forever in there, she stepped out with a towel around her and another on her hair. There was a false calm over her nerves. What’s important was that she didn’t have to see her body shiver like before. It’s good enough to know your needs but don’t look desperate to get them, she thought. 

She threw on a few tarty clothes and painted her face with some mascara here and there, and lined her lips with a stick. She looked nothing close to the result she had hoped to see but she left anyway to her private office.

Night’s Mare was bustling with people as usual. The beauty of it was that no one cared about anyone’s business so even though she had messed around with quite a number of folks from that den, they all understood the unspoken code of conduct- “One Night Stands Alone”. Which means whatever happens in one night must be left alone and shouldn’t affect another. A subtle but clever way of saying forget the past even if it means ignoring the person until they decide to get it on again.

She walked idly to her spot on the counter and ordered for whiskey. 

“Not your usual today?” The bartender asked, realizing the change around her, that is, if it wasn’t seeping from within her.

“Are you noticing me already?” She slurred, picking a cigar stick from one side of the table and lighting it up. The bartender wasn’t sure he was going to continue that line of conversation. She laughed at his flusteredness when she saw how clumsy he got.

“Easy… I don’t bite,” she hissed. At this point, he regretted trying to make conversation with her. He poured her a few shots and set the bottle beside her. 

“Looks like someone needs a rescue,” came a familiar voice and he nodded at the bartender to take his leave. Gratitude spread all over his face as he left to the farthest end of the counter.

“Oh… you spoilt my fun,” she puffed.

“I didn’t know preying on these innocent ones have become your new kind of fun. You obviously terrified the guy,” he replied, pouring himself a shot too. 

“He’s just naive, that’s all. Unlike you. So manly and phenomenal. I’ll be doubly pleased to feel you around me…” she leaned close to him, a few inches from his broad shoulders. His navy blue short sleeve clung tightly against his chest revealing his bulging arms. He smirked at her advances and didn’t flinch the slightest. After all, he could say he invented that move.

“Forward again. I like your new style but you’re still not my type of girl,” he downed a shot and said flatly. Not the least moved or triggered.

“Proud as always…” sighing in disappointment and drew back. She struggled to keep a firm grip on the glass. Her chest tightened and she fought so hard to keep from coughing.

It was too clear to him that something was wrong with the young lady by him. Compared to the morning she looked more sickly tonight even under that heavy makeup. 

“Hey, what’s wrong with you? You look like you’re ready to die.” He turned her to himself gently. She brushed off his arms and latched on to her whiskey bottle. He snatched it from her and tossed the cigar sticks away from her.

“Hey… what’s your problem?” She replied drowsily, still fighting back the coughs. 

“What happened after you left the diner?” 

“That’s none of your business, jerk,” she downed another.

“You don’t get to decide my business, bus girl,”

She laughed at the name. Inasmuch as she appreciated his concern she may have liked him a little more than before hearing him call her that. It reminded her of what those bus trips meant to her. 

“What are you laughing about?”

“I liked the name you called me. Bus girl” she singsonged.  He had said the name randomly without much thought to it so it took him a moment to realize what she meant. He knew he wasn’t in the position to pity this woman but he couldn’t help but feel that way. And if he was going to earn her trust it was going to take a lot more than that, he thought. 

“Let me take you home,” he tried to carry her.

“Leave me alone! I can take myself home,” she smashed a shot glass on the counter, injuring herself. 

“Do you want to hurt yourself that bad? I’m just trying to help you here,” he sounded almost exasperated from her sturbborness.

“Help… tsk” she chuckled.

“See, black guy. I am not some charity case you take on as a project to make your conscience feel good… I AM NOT A CHARITY CASE! And neither you nor Jamal should ever look at me like that,” she bawled, almost breaking out into tears. The outburst must have cleared her head a bit. She took the last shot and scuffled out of the dark club.

He couldn’t hide his confusion. Charity case? Where did that come from? And this was the second time he had heard the name Jamal. Whoever he was, he must be the real jerk, he thought. Seeing her state before she left the room he decided to follow her at a distance to be sure she made it home alive.

She was barely  able to walk steadily let alone make it to her apartment. On a normal day she would have walked to her apartment a few blocks away but doing same that night would not be wise. Still staggering along the sidewalk, she tried to stop a taxi to take her home. In a few moments, one cab slowed down beside her. Mitch wasn’t going to watch her leave unaccompanied with the cab driver. His overprotective demeanor around her did not even make him realize the poor driver is just doing his job. But then again it’s Southern street we’re talking about. No one can be too careful. He strode quickly to the taxi and took the front seat and informed the driver that he was with her before he could ask anything. At this point, Keisha would probably not remember when she stopped a taxi or how she got into one. 

She laid sprawled out at the backseat completely wasted. 

Mitch gave the driver his home address. He had previously promised himself to never let any woman into his home but he was bothered by her. All kinds of questions flooded him. What if Feena wasn’t there like the other day? Or even his mother? Besides, it wasn’t too late either. High chances are that Naomi would be at cell. And from what he recalled, it wasn’t going to happen in her apartment.

As the driver took them he wondered about all the possibilities. He had to admit that his mind may have wandered to some places but he knew better to stand his ground. The real problem was, what would happen if this lady wakes up and is just on to him? He figured the best way to go about it was to let her rest for a while and when Naomi returns, take her to her apartment.

“Mom?” He called, hoping to have her pick up the phone at the second beep. He got disappointed when the answer machine replied. 

“Hi, this is Naomi Miller, Kindly leave a message,” another beep followed. 

They finally arrived at his little space with her hunched over his shoulders and was grateful this lady was too sleepy to see the chaos that went on in his room. Had he known he’d have a guest today he would have tucked away his art stuff in a more organized way than he left it. Drops of paint marbled on his floor, tubes of paint scattered, not to speak of the crumpled sheets of paper which laid around. He carefully laid her on his single worn-out settee and scuttled to kick a few things out of the way to make enough room for movement. Compared to where he lived earlier on the other side of town, this place was so much better. It was furnished a little bit more than the other. Good thing was, no one knew his record so he was treated fairly well. His neighbors were terrified of him enough. They didn’t have to suffer any more dread of knowing he’s done jail time before.

He cleared the room in less than a few minutes and returned to carry her to rest better in the bed. Before he took the first step her eyes split open. For a moment she was shocked to see his face so close to herself, then she softened, snuggling in his embrace assuming her wildest dreams were finally about to come true. Her coyness made it so easy for him to guess what she was thinking. 

“Hey bus girl, snap out of it. Nothing’s happening,” he shook her shoulder as if that would change anything. She wasn’t the least bit bothered about that. She held on to his shirt tightly making it hard for him to step away from her. 

“I thought you had a change of mind, handsome” she spoke rather softly and soothingly, her breath reeked of alcohol. Any man would have fallen prey to that voice but not the breath which accompanied it. Mitch sniggered at her subtlety.

“Bus girl, you might want to leave that shirt before I do something crazy to you,” his arms still around her like someone ready to carry her. 

“Crazy huh,” she slurred.

“How I love that word. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long,” her breath heavy with the booze she took earlier.

“I’m not sure that’s the moment you mean ma’am, but if you’re eager to find out, be my guest,” he feigned formality. He knew the intent behind his smile but the drunk lady’s anticipation only mounted. 

Still hooked on his shirt, he carried her from the chair and took her straight into his bath tub. At this point her imaginations ran wilder on the possibilities of the night. She hesitantly let go of his shirt and spread herself waiting to be joined in it. Her eyes shut its doors to the visible and allowed her mind to see the rest. Before she could open her eyes to see what had taken him so long, water splashed on her from her head down to where she sat. Instantly, she stood up in rage, spluttering water all around the floor. She tried to wipe of the dripping water from her eyes to get a better look at the brazen guy who had just been discourteous to her. Mitch stood a few meters away enjoying the look of disdain from her face. He didn’t want to risk being pushed onto the slippery floor by her.

“WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH YOU!” She bellowed.

“I thought this was the moment you’ve been waiting for, bus girl,” he teased. If eyes could kill, Mitch would probably be buried by now. She stood fuming with anger and he could swear he saw smoke oozing through her nostrils and ears. At least they both could see she was back to her sanity from the alcohol now. But knowing her, her attitude remains quite unchanged with or without influence. Reading the hostility in the room, he excused himself and locked the bathroom partition from behind, not waiting to see what she’d do next. Keisha was losing her nerves by the second. She yelled all the cuss words she’d ever heard, withholding none. Mitchel took them all in like he was listening to the radio and went on to his painted artifacts. Hanging some and leaving the unfinished ones on his desk.

When she had finally calmed down, he tossed her one of his hardly worn sweatshirts and a pair of sweatpants over the partitioned door.

“The weather forecast announces there might be rain today so you’d want to dress for it,” he uttered audible enough for her to hear. She said nothing. It was clear she was very pissed and was trying to pull the silence card over this one. It didn’t help either.

“Let me know when you’re ready to step out. I have a few mice trouble at night so you might want to be quick,” he added, relishing the torture he brought on the angry girl. Keisha squat in the tub and the thought of seeing mice nip at her feet unnerved her the more. She quickly washed herself off and slid into the clothes Mitch provided her. This is not how she imagined her night with him but at least she got his clothes. She could imagine him all around her now. She threw her wet clothes into the waste basket and tapped the door awkwardly to get his attention. Mitch wanted her to talk. To know how she sounded and to determine if it was safe to open her just yet.

“You might want to say  how I can help you,” he stifled a smile. Finally hanging his Sun collection of painted canvases. 

She felt her teeth grit, her throat tingle and all sorts of angry emotions pouring into her but seeing how this guy was in the mood to play, she couldn’t bring herself to act or say anything stupid. 

“Can you please open the door, jerk?” She finally said.

“Overly sweet and rude at the same time,” he thought out loud.

“I’ve always called you jerk and you never seemed to mind,”

“That was before I had you in my grasp. At this point I think that has to change too…” he replied.

“Fine. Kindly open the door, Black guy,” 

“Sounds racist but that’s  fair. Now that it has come to this, I guess there’s no hope of you calling me by my name,” he sighed. He opened the door and saw the cute young lady in baggy clothes with eyes which could kill. For a moment, he lost himself in her gaze until he caught himself. He wondered why those angry eyes rather enthralled him when they’re supposed to be intimidating him. 

“Before anything, I’m sorry I got crazy with you,” he apologized quickly like a little boy. One by one, everything she had thought to say diffused out of her mind. There was something about him which made her feel like herself from long ago. It wasn’t about the apology but the manner of it. She curled her lip up a bit and strode past him. Her hair was far from drying given the whole dramatic situation.

Caught with the beautiful painted works on the walls. Some of them she could deduce their meanings, others, she wasn’t so sure and then her eyes hit his recent works. 

“Is this supposed to be a collection?”

“Mmhm”

“I guess you’re good for something,” she simpered.

“I’m good for many things, bus girl,” 

“I won’t doubt that. If there’s anything more evident I can see you’re good with your hands, alright” 

“Not again. Do you ever take a break?”

She glanced at him from her side and allowed a smirk. 

“It’s inspired from the sun,” taking a closer look at it. 

“It is,” he confirmed.

“Why though?” She hoped his answer would get her learning more about how she felt about the sun since Feena was a lost cause. 

“A friend gave me that project. I asked a question and he replied with this assignment which has taken a lot of my time already”

“I wonder what question you asked,” her attention still fixated on them.

“It’s a question you’d only understand when you visit my friend with me ‘cos I am yet to understand that question too,” he replied.

“Is that an invitation without hesitation?” She turned. A surprised look drawn on her face. 

“Well-“

“You don’t have to answer that,” she cut him. She didn’t want him ruining the moment, though she only accepted for her own selfish reasons. And he had his own selfish reason for throwing that invitation. 

“But I still can’t help getting curious about you?” She drew closer to him.

“You look like you have many secrets… of some kind,” sounding very much interested.

“So do you” he muttered back.

“Well, aren’t mine laid out in broad daylight for all to see?” She smirked, diverting her attention back to painted pieces and she felt his pensive stare which indicated more of worry than the indifference he’d normally express.

“But maybe you’re right. I do have secrets and I figured the best way to keep them is to reveal one. It stops everyone from getting curious about you,” she replied with a voice that had a touch of wit to it. 

“Not everyone,” Mitch’s voice stood resolute and devoid of any sarcasm or humor. Keisha felt she could trust his words. Then another thought crossed her mind. Who was she kidding? Has she ever been so fortunate to have someone she could trust?

“Unlike everyone else, I want to understand your whys,” his gaze on her cut through her inner walls. She had to quickly turn away from him completely and suggest an early rest.

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