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Jasmine
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I was tired. It wasn’t like I needed to rush home to anyone or anything in particular once Coco was taken care of, so I stayed at T’s insistence. Although I still didn’t want to lead her down a path I wasn’t ready for, I freshened up a bit just in case. In case of what? I wasn’t sure, but I could never be too prepared since I would be in someone else’s bed. As always though, T was incredibly gentle and understanding.
I woke up disoriented and glanced around to see T sleeping peacefully and smiled. I couldn’t believe that I had spent the night at this woman’s house, and she didn’t make a move other than to massage my feet. “Oh shit! Coco needs to get let out!”
T opened her eyes, looked at me, and smiled. “Good morning, how’d you sleep?”
“Surprisingly, I slept very well,” I replied.
“Would you like some breakfast? Coffee? Tea?” T asked.
“No thanks, I need to get home and get ready for work, feed the dog, let her out.” I laughed and said, “I’m just going to brush my teeth, wash my face, and get home.” After I got dressed and came downstairs, T walked me to the door, and we embraced for quite some time. This felt so right. She kissed me on the lips and near my ear and whispered, “Next time bring Coco so you won’t have to rush home.” Have mercy!
On my ride home, I felt my phone vibrating, six missed calls. I checked voice mail and found that I had four messages. Three were from Stephanie; all of them contained some combination of, “Are you okay and do I need to call 911?” As I walked in, the house phone rang. Breathlessly, I answered, “Hello?”
“I’ve been calling you all night, where have you been? Are you okay?” It was Stephanie.
I giggled, “Girl, I’m fine. I’ll explain later, but I need to get ready for work, I’ll call you later.”
During a lull in my morning routine, I called Stephanie back. After exchanging pleasantries with her assistant, I was transferred.
“I got an appointment in ten minutes, heifer talk fast.”
I giggled again, “I was on a date. I didn’t know you called until this morning.”
“What! Let me tell Rachel to hold my calls for a minute. Where the hell were you?”
I said coyly, “I was with Teresa.”
“Who the hell is Teresa and why are you spending the night with her already?”
“Why don’t you and Leslie come over tonight so I only have to tell the story once.”
“No, you got six minutes. Tell me NOW. Who is Teresa?” Stephanie said emphatically.
“Long story short, I met her at the Harbor. She’s a teacher and an artist, and I spent the night at her house.”
“So let me get this straight, and I may charge you for this session. You met some woman at the Harbor and you’re already sleeping with her?”
“I didn’t say I slept with her,” I defended myself.
“You said you spent the night.”
“That doesn’t mean I slept with her, but you’re not letting me tell the story.”
“You got two minutes.”
“She gave me a foot massage.”
“Ahhh hell, what time should I come over?”
“Around seven.”
“That’s good. My last appointment is at five-thirty.”
“Okay, I’ll call Leslie,” I said.
I left a message on Leslie’s work phone, “I met a new honey, I spent the night, details at my house at seven o’clock.” I laughed as I hung up the phone. When I returned from an afternoon meeting, there was a message from Leslie, “Alright Jezebel, I’ll see you at seven.”
***
I ordered two pizzas, one with meat for Stephanie, a veggie only for Leslie, and opened a bottle of wine. Leslie arrived first and tried to get me to share details before Stephanie got there. “I’m only telling this story once, hold tight,” I told her. Both were at my house before seven.
The mood as we sat around the table was much different than the last time we had all gathered. We joked, laughed, and teased each other. I shared the juicy details of my and T’s meeting from the first evening at the Harbor to the open invitation to return to her place again. Then the rapid succession of questions started.
“You like her?” Stephanie asked.
“Yeah,” I said coyly.
“What about the foot massage, who the hell does that?” Leslie chimed in, “That’s some Jason’s Lyric type of shit right there!”
“Guuurrrrlll, I’m tellin’ you what,” I let out a low whistle.
“What?” Stephanie and Leslie said in unison.
“She’s gentle, considerate, sexy, and cooks!”
“Cooks? You datin’ a femme?” Leslie asked with a skeptical frown on her face.
“No, stupid... Toni cooked, remember?”
“You mean she ordered food and put it on nice dishes?”
“No, I mean she cooked. Salmon and wild rice, steamed vegetables, simple, yet charming. And oh by the way, it was delicious!” I couldn’t contain my smile.
“What?” they said in unison.
“Yeah, apparently she grows her own herbs and...”
“Herbs? She grows weed?” Leslie interrupted me.
“Nooooo!” I protested. “Herbs like spices, oregano, basil.”
“Was everything neatly arranged on the plates? Did you have to take your shoes off? Did she keep washing her hands?” Stephanie asked going down her list of personality disorder symptoms.
“Nooooo,” I said trying in vain to defend myself. “She’s different.”
“Different? Good different or I need to call my shady cousins different?” Leslie questioned with her mouth twisted to the side.
“What? Different like somebody you dream about,” I plead my case.
“Ah hell, she dun went Cinderella on us,” Leslie said throwing up her hands.
“No, there’s no white horse. She does drive a beat-up white van though—she carries her art in it. And get this, she likes country music.”
“What the fu—? She’s white?” Stephanie exclaimed.
I let out a sigh, trying to not let my friends exhaust me. “And what’s wrong with that if she were?”
“You dun lost your damn mind. All the fine black women in Bawlmore and you had to find a white woman?” Leslie asked.
“No girl, not just a white woman, but a white woman with a beat-up ass van who’s growing weed in her basement,” Stephanie said while high fiving Leslie.
“Ya’ll have added a lot of sauce to this story,” I said, shaking my head at my friends’ narrow minds.
“Girl, you better bring us some more wine,” Stephanie said raising her empty glass, “to get this story down.”
I giggled—something that I was doing more of these days—and went to the kitchen to fetch the bottle. After I filled their glasses, I sat down and proceeded to stick up for myself. “One, I’m sure as my good friends, you all would support me if I fell in love with a woman of ANY color. Two, I believe love is love. And three, T is a fine, caramel-colored Adonis whose skin has been kissed by the sun.”
“Thank you, Jesus!” Leslie shouted. “Thought you had bumped your head. But don’t think we missed that fell in love statement.”
“I didn’t say I fell in love,” I said.
“You said you were sure we’d support you if you were in love with a white woman,” Stephanie reminded me.
“Right, I didn’t say I was in love, I said if.”
“Uhh huh,” Leslie said questioning my response.
“I haven’t been out of love long enough to be falling in love,” I pleaded my case.
Stephanie leaned back and said, “Oh no honey, you’ve been out of love for a minute.”
“Heifer,” I hissed peering at her.
Stephanie countered, “I only do truth.”
“Look, all I’m saying is, yes, Toni and I had been on the outs for a long time. And truth be told, T has been a good—dare I say necessary—diversion. I met an intelligent, thought-provoking, easy on the eyes friend and it’s been fun these past few months getting to know one another.” I didn’t tell them T said she liked me. That would have been too much fuel for the fire.
Stephanie whirled around, “Wait a fuckin’ minute! I thought you just met Ms. Gentle, Considerate, Sexy, Intelligent, Thought-Provoking...”
Leslie cut Stephanie off, “What the hell is her name?”
“Teresa,” Stephanie said.
“Teresa who?” Leslie asked.
“Teresa Butler.” I also didn’t tell them about T’s vagueness or how I initially got her name from a handcard rather than her directly.
“Is she looking for money? A girlfriend?” Stephanie asked.
“What? No! I don’t know?!” I said throwing up my hands.
“That’s okay! We have enough to do a background check. Where’s she from?” Leslie asked.
“I don’t need either of you to do a background check. Anyway,” I said, ignoring Leslie, “It’s only been a few months and it’s early in the getting to know you stage.”
“It ain’t that damn early, you dun spent the night with a woman and you don’t seem to know much about her.”
“Ooh Jezebel,” Leslie said shaking her head back and forth.
“You two, I’m telling you when you meet her...” I chimed in.
Stephanie interrupted, “The first thing I’m going to ask is what are her intentions.”
I responded, “Well, you do that. Up until this point it hasn’t come up. But as I was saying, she’s nice, different than a lot of women I’ve met here in Baltimore.”
“Oh, she ain’t from round here?” Leslie asked.
“No, she’s from Savannah, Georgia.”
“Now how she know that and she don’t know what her intentions are or where THIS is going?” Leslie asked Stephanie doing finger swirls in the air.
“I don’t know, she must have been too busy enjoying foot rubs and whatnot,” Stephanie answered.
“’Scuse me, ya’ll act like I’m not sitting here,” I said.
“Rubbin’ her feet, she’ll be rubbin’ your hair and next thing you know Ms. Country Bama is puttin’ a root on you,” Leslie said as usual putting more than her two cents in the plate.
“Both of you, go home, I fed you, we shared libations, and this is how you treat me?” I said laughing.
“Girl, we just watchin’ your back,” Leslie said.
“Is that what you call this?” I asked. “Go home, it’s time to go home. Now!”
I was lying in bed reflecting on the conversation with my two crazy, but concerned, friends. I was certain they would love T too. Would they love her? Did I love her?
***
Unlike Mondays with new hospital admissions, Tuesdays weren’t generally difficult days. But driving home Tuesday evening, I was exhausted, it had been a long day. It couldn’t be a full moon already...the patients, staff, everyone was crazy today. Even Paula and I openly disagreed at the morning meeting. I felt off. Maybe I’m PMSing. The phone rang as I turned into the driveway, “Hello?”
“Hey Jazz.”
Uhhh, more negative energy. “Hi Toni, how are you?” Not that I really cared but ‘nothing beat good manners’ I heard my grandmother saying.
“I’m good. I uh, hadn’t heard from you and wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m good too, everything’s cool,” I replied.
Toni paused, “I umm, uh, was wondering if you wanted to get together for dinner or something.”
It was my turn to pause, I hadn’t heard from Toni in a month. I tried not to be suspicious, but it wasn’t easy. Toni’s unpredictability was cause for apprehension. “I’m kind of busy for the next week or so,” I carefully responded.
“Come on Jazz, I know you can make time for a, a, a friend. How ‘bout I bring dinner over on Friday?”
“Friday? You want to spend Friday night having dinner with me?” Bells went off. “I haven’t seen you on a Friday night in a year and you want to spend Friday with me? What’s up Toni?” I asked slightly annoyed.
“Baby ain’t nothin’ goin’ on, just wanted to spend some time with you,” she replied.
“Well, this Friday isn’t good, I have plans. What about Friday after that?”
“I was hoping to see you before then, you don’t have any time for me?”
I felt slightly torn, God only knew why because I knew Toni was up to something. “I’m free Tuesday,” I groaned inwardly.
“Okay, next Tuesday it is. I’ll see you then.” Toni hung up before I changed my mind.
***
A week later, things had settled down at work. Paula and I were on speaking terms again and decided we were better allies than adversaries. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I could feel something in my spirit was different. I felt like burdens were lifted and vaguely remembered a sermon about change and had started to employ a few tenets.
Toni called while Paula and I were at lunch. She left a message saying she would be at my house by six with General Tso’s Chicken, my favorite. I’ve heard an ex is an ex for a reason and Toni was going to test the veracity of the saying. What was she up to? Toni also closed her voice message by saying she was really looking forward to spending some time at home. I replayed the last part to make sure I had heard the word ‘home.’
Toni arrived a few minutes before six. When I opened the door, she had a funny look on her face. “Hey there,” I said.
“You changed the locks!” Toni said, more a statement than a question.
“Uh yeah? Are you coming in?”
She came in with two bags of food and a bouquet of flowers. I almost laughed; Toni hadn’t bought me flowers in a long time.
“These are for you.”
“Thanks, they’re nice. I’ll get a vase.”
Toni followed me into the kitchen, Coco was on her heels trying to get some attention. She silently took plates out of the cabinet and brought the food out while I arranged the flowers and sat them on the table. I almost lit a candle but decided against it. Toni’s tone and her mood had shifted from the voice message earlier, she seemed a little more tense. I attempted humor, “What army did you think you were feeding? This is a lot of food,” I chuckled.
Toni looked at me and asked, “Why did you change the locks? How am I supposed to get my mail?”
Here we go. “Toni, I assumed you had already changed your address. You haven’t had much mail over the last few weeks.” I got up from the table and got Toni’s mail from the office.
“I just mean, I thought you would have told me instead of me putting my key in the door,” she yelled loud enough for me to hear.
“You don’t live here anymore, why would you put your key in the door?” I asked returning to the dining room table.
“I don’t know...”
“Like you were at home? What’s goin’ on? You seem bothered by the fact that you couldn’t just walk in here at your convenience and had to ring the bell.”
“Like I’m a visitor,” she had the nerve to say.
“You are. You moved out remember?” I virtually shouted.
“Well, that’s what I was hoping we could talk about.”
I sat down; I wasn’t feeling steady anymore. Toni got up and sat on the floor with Coco. “I was thinkin’, nobody breaks up for good. We hit a rough spell and I’m willing to forgive you.”
I could feel my brow furrowing, I honestly hadn’t anticipated this conversation even though I suspected Toni was up to something. I took a deep breath and responded, “It’s mighty kind of you to forgive me, but I’m neither asking for forgiveness nor do I think I’ve done anything that I need to be forgiven for. As a matter of fact, I thought you would initiate apologies. But let me just cut to it. I don’t want a roommate, or at this particular moment, a girlfriend. I’m enjoying the peace and my new routine.”
“Does that routine include seeing that girl? The photographer?”
“I think it’s a fair assumption that we’re both dating Toni.”
“So, it’s like that?”
“Yeah, it’s like that,” I said confidently.
Toni got up off the floor, brushed her clothes off, and headed for the door.
“Guess I don’t need these.” Toni took her old keys off the ring and threw them in the bowl on the console near the door.
“Absolutely not. What about dinner?” I wanted to know. Not because I wanted her to hang around, I just didn’t understand the point of all the effort she made.
“Not feeling dinner anymore.”
Keep your head. And with as much grace as I could muster said, “Well, it’s been a quick visit and it was good to see you.” I walked to the door and held it open for Toni. She was tense, brushed passed me and paused, “Yeah, I’ll see you, I hope you’re happy.”
I stared at the door after locking it. “Peace,” I said into the air, tempted to return to my old school Pentecostal roots and anoint the door frame with oil. I uttered a “Sweet Jesus” for good measure though. I squared my shoulders and had a Color Purple moment like when Celie said, “My house, this is my house.” I didn’t know why I suddenly felt better or was smiling, but it—whatever it was—was going to be okay.
***
Sam, the Director of Nursing at the hospital, invited me to an end of summer, pre-Labor Day party that he was having the Saturday after Toni’s little stunt. He told me he hadn’t invited a lot of people—just a small intimate group—which I didn’t believe.
I invited T to go with me, something a little different from our one-on-one close encounters. We agreed to meet at T’s house since Sam lived less than ten minutes away. Walking may have been more practical if it wasn’t damn near ninety degrees at five o’clock in the afternoon. Especially since Bolton Hill residents had figured out how to limit outsiders from their insular neighborhood, having successfully lobbied for permit-only parking. Any parking beyond two hours was subject to zealous towing. So, T drove. She would have better luck finding a space with her smaller car. We parked down the street from Sam’s house.
“Is that music coming from his house?” T asked, “this is a small gathering?” We could hear “It’s Time for the Percolator” pumping from the house as I opened the wrought iron fence in the front yard.
“That’s what he said, but you know the boys never do anything small,” I replied.
“I know that’s right,” T laughed. “You’ve met my cousins.”
We made our way to the back and were both surprised to find just nine people in the lush terrace—the yard meticulously landscaped with wrought iron garden decorations. Neatly trimmed boxwood hedges defined the property edge, red geraniums were spilling over their containers, and fragrant climbing coral roses twisted and wound their way up wood trellises. I was surprised I could smell them in addition to the smokey aroma from the grill that made my stomach growl.
After introductions and getting a bite to eat, T and I settled into a lounge chair—me leaning back into her, comfortable as the day was long—next to a male couple on one side and Paula and her cute lesbian cousin, Jael, on the other. Turned out, Sam and Jael were friends from way back in the day. Which wasn’t surprising, the town was sometimes called Smalltimore for a reason. The conversation among everyone was free flowing.
Unfortunately, Jael expected her reserve unit to be activated in the next few months considering all the rumblings about supposed weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. “I have several friends in the Navy and Marine Corps that always talk about walking a fine line not to be outed. How do you handle being in the closet and in the military?” T asked.
“It can be tough sometimes. I was deployed for about three months during the first Gulf War when I was on active duty,” Jael said. “I’m potentially looking at twelve months now... that’s a long time to be undercover,” she lamented with a shrug.
“You got that right,” one of the men entered the conversation.
“Yeah, but it’s something I volunteered to do, you know? On the flip side, I’ve gotten some good benefits over the years... traveled, finished my degree with the G.I. Bill, and will have a decent retirement check in the future. At the end of the day, no matter how I feel about one particular policy, it is an honor and privilege to wear the cloth of our great nation,” Jael confessed and bit into a rib.
We were all a bit stunned by her patriotic declaration. No one spoke for a few seconds until I broke the silence. “That’s interesting, dare I say, principled even, that you choose to focus on the positive.”
Jael responded, “What you choose to focus on or devote energy to makes a difference right?” T nudged me, I tried to ignore her. Jael didn’t wait for a response but chuckled a bit. “How does the saying go? You have to laugh to keep from crying?”
“I guess,” T said with an eyebrow raised.
“My cousin is being modest. She has done well... she’s a commander in the Navy. Not too many people are gunning for her,” Paula chimed in.
“Not yet Cuz, soon though. I’m still a Lieutenant Commander,” Jael corrected her.
“I’m claiming the promotion for you,” Paula declared.
“Thanks. You’re right though, not many folks are paying me and my personal life any mind,” she said to her cousin. “But the hardest part?” Jael said turning to the group.
“What?” several of us asked in unison.
“I’m a damn good leader and my troops and my superiors trust and respect me, at least I think so. But T hit the nail on the head. Staying so deep in the closet and being away from my family that the commander-in-chief says shouldn’t or doesn’t exist is rough.”
“No doubt. You have a girlfriend?” T asked.
“Yeah, my partner and I have been together for five years and she has an eight-year-old son. They’re at a birthday party.”
“Good grief. I can’t even begin to imagine navigating that mess. So, what does that even look like in the day to day?” T was into this story.
“I’m not so sure it’s incredibly different than how we all manage our civilian lives. Like, it’s 2002 sure. But I’m sure you’re cautious about who knows you like girls, right?” Jael answered.
“You got that right!” I chimed in, laughed, and looked at Paula.
“But here’s an example,” Jael continued, “while everybody else gets to have their families milling about when we ship out or return home, I don’t. Their presence may raise questions.” She sighed. “So I’ve been a great officer, followed the rules, and served in silence.”
“Damn!” T and I said under our breaths.
***
Prior to sunset, I sensed T had had her fill of meeting new people and socializing so I suggested we head out. We went inside and I went to get my scarf that Sam put in the hall closet. When I turned around, T was right behind me, smiling wickedly, and backed me into the dimly lit space.
This is crazy. I couldn’t believe I was in here with T’s hands already gripping my ass. But I didn’t protest. Ever since she opened her door when I arrived earlier today, my imagination took me to places it hadn’t been in a minute. T was hot as hell in a black tank and linen shorts. She sure does like, a looks good in, linen?
In an instant after our lips locked, I was no longer concerned about our current environment. Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I tried to look into T’s penny brown eyes for confirmation of what was next. She gave me a seductive wink—or at least that was what I saw—and it was on. I was surprised that I let her feel me up as much as I did.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Nothin’,” T answered with her head buried in the crook of my neck.
“It doesn’t feel like nothin’,” I replied.
“What does it feel like?”
“It feels like you’re trying to seduce me.”
“Does it?” T asked, now with her tongue in my cleavage.
“Yes.”
“I’m just trying to get to know you better.”
“Maybe we should start with something simpler,” I said. “Football or basketball?”
“Excuse me?” T asked, pulling away and looking at me.
“The email? Football or basketball?”
“You’re kidding right?” T asked, puzzled by my sudden shift.
“No, I’m not,” I smiled anyway. “I’ve spent the night at your house. You’ve rubbed my feet. We’ve been to dinner multiple times. And I want to continue getting to know you. Like, what school do you work at? I know you’re from Savannah but who are your people?”
“You know I teach art and I’m an artist. You even know where I live, which is saying a lot,” T interrupted.
“Yeah, but there’s more to you than that,” I responded.
“Is it that important?”
“Are you runnin’ from the government? Or in some type of witness protection program?”
“I was just wondering where the questions came from. They are totally one-eighty out from the moment I thought we were both enjoying.”
“T, like really. Are your parents still alive? Do you have siblings?”
“Wow! What if I told you I was raised by wolves?” T said laughing.
“Okay,” I started getting agitated. We were in a closet, and she was dodging my questions.
“Jasmine, I’m not in the witness protection program, neither are my parents. And I’m not running from the government. The questions just took me by surprise. What? You need to do a background check?”
I was not amused. “We need to go,” I said trying to get around T, but she firmly held me still.
“Baby, wait... My parents are Harold and Mary Butler of Savannah, Georgia. They’ve been married forty-two years. I have a forty-year-old brother who hasn’t figured out what he wants to be when he grows up. And as far as my mother is concerned, the sun rises and sets on him. My social security number is...”
“Teresa stop,” I interrupted, holding my hand up. “I was talking to some friends, and it occurred to me there was still so much that I want to know about you. I have no intention of doing a background check or...” Suddenly the door opened. Sam was as startled as we were.
“Oh, I see it’s no different than work, you’re still in the closet,” Sam said laughing.
“Shut up boy, we were just having a little chat,” I said and punched him in the arm.
“Umm hmmm, here? There are plenty of chairs in the backyard. I even have some in the kitchen.”
“Sam, it’s my fault, I couldn’t keep my hands off of your co-worker,” T said smiling and walking past Sam with me in tow.
“Umm Sam, thanks for inviting us, this was nice,” I tried to keep from laughing. “See you next week?”
“Not me, I’m heading to Hotlanta’s Black Pride for Labor Day. You know the boys are usually in a frenzy to end the summer.”
“I know that’s right. Well, have a good time, be safe.” I kissed Sam on the cheek, T shook his hand, and we were out the door.
“Where to Ms. Charles?” T asked.
“You’re driving remember Ms. Butler,” I said nudging T as we walked towards the car.
“Oh, so now you want to be nice? A few minutes ago, you were getting an attitude because your friends couldn’t google me and search for my prior convictions.”
I punched her too. “Uh unh, google you? That’s a verb now?”
“If it isn’t, the important word people will make it so. That’s the future of the interwebs you know,” T said smiling.
“Yeah, okay.”
“But don’t think you’re off the hook,” she kidded me.
“T, don’t be like that. They brought up some good points that’s all.”
***
The work week flew by following Labor Day; they always did after a holiday. Much to my disappointment, I hadn’t heard from T all week. Not like we were a couple or anything, but I expected a phone call every now and again. I picked up my desk phone and dialed T’s number and smiled while listening to the brief and throaty directions to leave a message. I hemmed and hawed my way through a message, wanting to sound a bit more intelligent and coherent, wishing I had an ability to erase and re-record.
Wouldn’t you know she would call when I stepped away from my desk for a hot second. I listened to her message three times. “Hey beautiful... thanks for the call. It’s been hella busy at work. Talk soon.”
I didn’t call back, but I toyed with the idea of riding past her house on the way home but decided against it. I could use a quiet night with Coco. I also thought about T being evasive last Saturday when I started asking her questions and I got agitated again. They were common questions that people attempting to get to know one another ask. “I don’t know her!” I said aloud. She was very guarded. We should protect ourselves, but damn. Plus, she only answered half of the questions on the twenty-question list.
Dinner was done, I sauteed chicken, onions, and peppers and spread them over rice. I placed my plate on the table and believed a glass of wine would be nice. I laughed out loud. It was all downhill from here. I was eating and drinking alone. So not only did I pour myself a glass, I poured a large glass of wine. I blessed my food, picked up the fork and the phone rang. Ugh, it better not be a telemarketer! “Hello,” I answered with slight agitation.
“Hello Ms. Charles.”
“Well, hey Ms. Butler.”
“That’s my name.”
“Yes, you are one of The Butlers from Savannah,” I smartly commented.
“See, I just wanted to say hello and return your call.”
“That’s very kind of you, it’s the first one this week.”
“You know what? I’m gonna go, I’ve had a busy week getting me and my classroom ready for the new school year and you givin’ grief is just too much right now,” T said in her defense.
“Oh, that’s right, I’m sorry,” I said. Here I was likely being a bit selfish and throwing myself a pity party. I may have been spoiled by T being available on summer break. “When do the kids come back?”
“Next week,” she answered.
“Are you ready? All your boards done?”
“Boards?” T asked.
“Yeah, your bulletin boards.”
“I haven’t put much effort into bulletin boards in a few years. After two weeks, the boards are pretty full of all the little Van Goghs’ work. But we had to sit through hours of presentations about changes in the curriculum and quite frankly, I would not have been a good conversationalist. What are you doing this evening?”
“Nothing much, I was sitting down to dinner.”
“Alone?”
“Yes, alone. Interested in joining me?”
“Are you inviting me to your home?”
“Nooo. I’m going to have the food delivered to your house. Of course!”
“I appreciate the invite, and know it wasn’t extended lightly, but I’m kinda beat. I’m gonna chill for a bit. Call me when you finish eating?”
“Okay,” I muttered, disappointed that T didn’t accept my invitation. I heated my food up again, but my appetite had faded.