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Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday were rough to get through but I knew I had to in order to get to Friday – the day I get to spend time with Jamila again. And I’m overjoyed that I survived the week to get to this point. I can hardly contain my excitement. I’m hopeful that we’ll make further progress in this new connection we’ve built. I can honestly say I’ve never felt this way. That’s how I know it has to be her.
As I drive the short distance to her apartment from mine, I tell myself to let the night unfold without trying to rush anything. Date two should be just as relaxing as date one, and I plan to show her a good time.
Slowing down to turn on her street, I dial her number.
“Hello,” she answers.
“Hey, you. I’m outside. You ready?”
“Ready for what?”
I pause as my heart stills. Did she forget? “Our date. Don’t tell me you forgot.”
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry, Morgan. I won’t be able to make it.”
“Oh,” I say feeling like someone just knocked the wind out of me. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”
“Okay,” I say, disappointed but I’m more interested in why she’s not coming. I say, “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
I glance up and see her walking out of the building rocking a fitted black dress and heels. Her long braids are swinging down her back. Her lips are cherry red. The big gold hoops compliment her brown skin and her outfit. She looks amazing – so good that I can’t take my eyes off of her. When she gets closer to my car, I get out and ask, “What’s up?”
She says, “I already have a date tonight.”
I open my mouth to say something but words escape me.
She smiles and says, “With you, silly. Gotcha!”
The air returns to my lungs and now I can breathe. “Yeah, you got me.”
I walk around to the passenger side of the car and open the door for her. Her braids are swinging loose today. As she gets inside, I catch a whiff of her perfume. She smells like peaches and musk – I don’t know the name of the scent and I don’t need to know it. I just need her to continue wearing it because it’s pleasing to my nose.
When I get inside the car, I turn to her and say, “You look beautiful as always.”
“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”
I shift the into car in drive. “You had me shook there for a minute. I thought you were about to go out with someone other than me.”
“Yeah. I’ve been waiting all week to pull that stunt on you. It’s payback for the paint you put on my nose.”
“Ah...you got me.”
“You handled it well. My mama told me to do stuff like that to see how a man is going to react. She said that’s how you pull out those red flags.”
“So, I passed your lil’ test?”
“With flying colors...no pun intended.”
I make a right on Central and head straight for the heart of this great city.
She asks, “Of all the places we could’ve gone, why’d you choose Fahrenheit?”
“It’s nice. Being up on the twenty-first floor of an Uptown tower and taking in the view is magical—similar to the feeling I get when I’m with you.”
She smiles. Blushes. “You think being with me is magical?”
“I do.”
“Stop it. You hardly know me.”
“I’ve known you for a long time. Besides, we’ve kissed, Mila, so you can save that innocent act.”
“Oh, I’m Mila to you now?”
“Yeah, you are. Mila and Morgan. I think it has a nice ring to it.”
She snickers while shaking her head. “You be doing the most.”
“All for you, my dear.”
I find a parking spot on the street, then quickly exit the vehicle to get the door for her. Her hand easily slides into mine while she steps out of the car.
The elevator ride up to the twenty-first floor is intense. I didn’t expect it to be, but there’s something about heights that triggers my desire, especially when the woman is the one I’ve always wanted. And that dress she’s wearing ain’t helping none. It hugs her shapely body and flatters her figure.
I stand in the back right corner of the elevator. She’s standing in the corner across from me, watching the numbers go up while I watch her intensely. I know it’s impolite to stare – I just can’t help myself.
The bell finally dings. I gesture for her to proceed ahead of me and then we’re shown to a dining area on the patio. There’s a calming breeze this high up and the magic in the air tells me this will be a lovely evening. My plan is to get to know her in more depth. I want to know why she’s single. I want to know about her past, relationships. I want to know everything about her and in turn, I’ll tell her everything she desires to know about me.
Immediately, we start with a drink. She orders a drink called It Takes Two to Mango and I go for an Always Sonny Spritz. After the drinks arrive and we’re a few sips in, I say, “So...”
“So,” she says, leaning back on the wicker chair with her legs crossed.
“How was your day today?” I ask.
“Good. I left work a little early. What about you?”
“I spent the day at the studio.”
“Of course.”
“I like to keep a schedule even though I work for myself if that makes any sense.”
“Makes perfect sense,” she says, crossing her cocoa butter-glossed legs.
My eyes travel down her shins to her heels. I clear my throat and look back up at her and ask, “What do you do on Saturdays?”
“Relax and gather myself to prepare for another round of work. What about you?”
“I’ll usually get up early to paint, especially if I feel like I’m behind on a project.”
“That’s cool.”
“Tell me something about yourself that I don’t already know.”
“Um...there’s nothing to tell. I done told you about my job and—”
“Yeah, I know about the job. What I want to know is, why you’re scared to be in a relationship.”
Her mouth falls open at my conclusion. I hate to be so forthcoming, but I have to try and get her to open up to me somehow, even if it is by talking about things in which I have no idea.
“I’m not scared to be in a relationship,” she responds, then sips. “I simply chose a drama-free life that works for me.”
“Meaning?” I take a sip as well. I peep right away that she’s hiding something. I don’t know what it is, but I can tell it’s there, floating beneath the surface of her.
She shrugs. “Being in a relationship is not urgent for me like it is for some women. I’ve settled into this life and—”
“And you don’t need a man, huh?”
“I don’t. If I had one, it would be because I wanted one. I don’t need one. Think about it—why do most women need a man?”
“Companionship? Love?”
“Wrong. Most of the women I know want a man for those things but they need a man for financial security. They need the bills paid and they want to feel stable. I make myself stable. I don’t need a man for that.”
“That’s a good thing. It means when you do decide you want a man, it would be strictly because you want him and not what he’s able to provide for you.”
“That’s right. What about you? I thought you artists had ways of seducing women with your creativity and charm.”
“We do.” I chuckle when she raises her brows. I say, “Nah, I’m only kidding. But artists are special people. We create love through art so that feeling flows through me constantly.”
“Okay, so why is there no Mrs. Morgan?”
“I think—no, I know—it’s because I was waiting for the right time and the right woman.”
“Is now the right time?” she probes.
“Yes, and you’re the right woman.”
She shies away from my comment for a moment, then takes a sip of her drink and says, “You say that with so much certainty.”
“It’s because I am certain. It feels right. I like being in your presence. Your beauty speaks to me in ways my ears wouldn’t be able to comprehend. It’s like a melody, a hymn that exists within my soul. A wavelength—a vibration that’ll never get old.”
“Okay,” she says smiling. “You’re doing spoken word now?”
“I’m just speaking from my heart.”
She stares at me for a moment but doesn’t say anything.
I say, “Go on. Ask.”
“If you insist...okay, I was just thinking about how you can be so sure that I’m your one.”
“Because I know.”
“Okay, but—”
“I’ve turned down every woman who’s crossed my path for the last five years because the woman I want is you. I don’t mean to come across too strong, but I do believe I need to let you know how I feel about you upfront.”
“I can respect that.”
“Is there anything that’s holding you back from being in a relationship?” I ask her.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Anything. Like, some woman can’t have children, or they have childhood trauma or bad experiences from past relationships—things like that.”
“I don’t have any childhood trauma. I grew up in a very loving home with both of my parents who are still together to this day. That’s the kind of love I want. It’s the kind of love I thought I—never mind.”
“No—what were you going to say?”
“Nothing. I’m just going to enjoy the evening.”
She sips more of her drink and looks at the small plates menu. We order the Ahi Poke Tuna Nachos and the American Wagyu Short Rib Steamed Buns.
“I remember the last time I was here—the food was good,” she tells me.
“You said you came here for work?”
“Yes. I wasn’t a manager then. My boss was treating us to a good quarter, he said.”
“That was nice.”
“Speaking of bosses, have you ever had a corporate job?”
“Nah, but I did have a boss. I used to teach art at a preparatory academy right out of college.”
“Did you like it?”
“I did. I love teaching kids. I have the patience to deal with them which is great practice for when I have some of my own.”
The food arrives. We share our appetizers and then after a second drink, I ask her to dance with me.
“Dance? Ain’t nobody out here dancing.”
“Your point?” I ask standing, then reach for her hand.
“My point is, it’s not that kind of spot.”
“It will be if we make it one.”
She accepts my grasp and stands up. There is no dance floor out here on the patio, so we stand near our seats. I pull her into my arms and place one hand on her back while we sway from side to side. To my amazement, she rests her head on my shoulder. For a moment in time, we’re in sync. Honestly, I feel like we always were. She just tries so hard to fight the force between us – a force that’s always been there – for reasons I don’t understand.
“Jamila,” I say quietly so as not to disturb the moment.
“Yes?”
“What are you doing?”
“What do you mean? I’m enjoying myself and taking in the moment. You’re the one who requested that we dance.”
“Yes, but I also want to talk.”
“Okay. I’m listening.”
“I just wanted to say that whatever it is holding you back, just know that I’m here to clear the way for you to let go of your inhibitions and just be yourself.”
She moves from my shoulder and looks up at me. “What are you talking about?”
“I think you know.”
“All I know is, I’m enjoying myself at the moment, Morgan.”
“Okay. Then, I won’t say another word until you want me to.”
She stares into my eyes and for the first time since we’ve been together like this, I can sense her going with the flow – the same way I felt it when we kissed. She smiles but it’s one of those ones that has a hint of sadness behind it.
That bothers me.
It casts a damper on what has proven to be a lovely evening. If only I knew the source of her troubles. I know what Nia told me, but I don’t know how deeply the breakup affected Jamila.
When we arrive back at her place a little after midnight, I walk her to the door and ask, “So, when are we going to finish your painting?”
I ask because it’s an easy way to set up a third date. As much as I wanted to pull as much information out of her tonight, it just didn’t happen.
“Um...I don’t know,” she responds.
“Jamila.”
“Yes,” she answers, looking up at me.
“I’m trying.”
She sighs. “I know you are.”
“Then—?”
She sighs again. “I like you, Morgan.”
“You do?” I ask, stepping closer to her. I nudge her chin up so that she looks up into my eyes. She does.
“Yes, I do. I just don’t want to rush into anything.”
“I get that, but at the same time, I don’t want to feel like you’re holding back.”
“I have my reasons for that.”
“I’m sure they don’t involve me.”
“No, they don’t.”
“Then why should I pay for someone else’s mistakes.”
“Morgan, I—”
Before she can offer a rebuttal, I go for her mouth, kissing her deeply and needfully to let her know how serious I am about this.
She moans.
Sounds like music to my ears.
So, I compose more music. I taste her lips and savor them hoping I’m changing her mind about me with each pull. Finally, I take a step back and say, “Have a good night.”
“You, too. I’ll text you about when we can meet again—you know—for the painting.”
“Okay. Goodnight.”
I watch her walk inside and lock up and then I return to my car feeling a sense of accomplishment. I’m still in the running to win her heart.