Chapter 15

 

Elsie

 

I’m soaring on a freaking cloud the next day at work. Mondays are always bleh for me. This Monday, I’m as happy as the day I graduated college, and it’s all because of my dream man. Issues that would normally spike my blood pressure roll off of my back as easily as this mail cart trundles down these shiny hallway floors. Today, I don’t care that Ms. It got a box of chocolates from her man yet again or that I forgot to take off my kitten heels before making my rounds. My feet hurt, but do I care? Not at all. I’m floating. I was with Trevor yesterday and—

“Looka here, Izzle…I’ma need you to get yo’ mind right,” Karsheeda says.

I can’t help but laugh. “What are you talking about?”

“You know good and well what I’m talking about. You pushing this cart around here floating, darn near doing ballet. And it’s Monday. It’s Monday!”

“I know it’s Monday,” I say, realizing I can’t stop smiling, even after I try to manually push my cheeks in.

“Why are you so happy?”

“I’m always happy.”

Karsheeda chuckles loudly. “Lies you tell…girl, you better tell the truth and shame the devil. Every Monday, you come up in here like you’re constipated and your hemorrhoids done flared up.”

“Hemorrhoids?” I laugh at her.

“Oh. Okay. I’m telling on myself now, but still…you’re usually miserable on Mondays. Did you win the Mega Millions or something?”

“No, but I did hit the jackpot,” I say, not believing I said that out loud. I just couldn’t hold it in.

“Ohhh…I know what this is about,” she says as if reaching an epiphany. “It’s that A-1 sauce player that’s got you all giddy, ain’t it?”

My eyes tear as I try to withhold laughter.

“Yep, that’s what it is,” Karsheeda says, nodding her head.

“Okay, his name is Trevor and we’re just friends.”

“You’re blushing. He’s not just a friend. You like him.”

“I do, but—”

“But what? Look, girl—I kid around about the losers I’ve dated, but if you done found a nice one, you better jump on it.”

“I’m not jumping on anything. I’m in chill mode right now.”

“We’ll see about that.”

 

* * *

 

We finish sorting mail in boxes on the eighth floor and are heading back to the office. When I arrive, there’s a bouquet of roses on my desk. “O-M-G…don’t tell me I gotta turn around and go right back upstairs to give these to Ms. It. She already got chocolates and now she’s getting roses, too?”

“Child, I bet any money this broad ordering all this stuff for herself,” Karsheeda says. “Don’t no man love no woman that much.”

“Apparently, they do.” I sit down for a moment to change into my comfortable shoes in preparation to go back up to the eighth floor just to drop off these roses.

“I’ll run them up there for you,” Karsheeda says. She walks over to my desk, takes the card that accompanies the flowers then says, “Um, put yo’ kitten heels back on, girl. These roses ain’t for Ms. It. They’re for you, Izzle.”

“No, they are not.”

She hands me the card and I read the handwritten note:

 

These are just some ‘friendly’ roses for my new friend.

 

-Trevor

 

“Izzle got some roses. Izzle got some roses. Heey…heey…heeeeey,” Karsheeda sings while twerking her ample size booty near my desk.

I’m all smiles. I can’t believe these roses are for me. “They’re so nice,” I say.

“Sho is. I ain’t never got no roses this nice,” Karsheeda says, nearly out of breath just off of dancing for a minute.

“I have to send him a text to let him know I got them.”

“A text? Girl, you better call that man.”

“No,” I say, whippin’ out my phone. I pull up my messaging app and find his name.

 

Elsie: Thank you for the roses.

 

“Let me see how quickly he responds back,” Karsheeda says, rolling her chair over to my desk, staring at my phone. It vibrates before I can place it on my desk, so I look at it (so does she) and we read:

 

Trevor: Just thought I’d do something to make you smile today.

 

“Oh shoot!” Karsheeda says. “A-1 sauce dude got game.”

I giggle. My face is all flushed and I feel like I’m having a hot flash.

“What are you waiting for?” Karsheeda asks. “Text him back. That man is feeling you, girl.”

“He’s not. We’re friends.”

“Friends don’t send friends hundred-dollar bouquets just because they wanted to see them smile.”

While she’s coaching me about what friends do or don’t do, Trevor sends another message.

 

Trevor: and I wanted to thank you for yesterday. I had a good time. I actually ate those leftover wings and meatballs for lunch today.

 

“Hold up,” Karsheeda says after reading his message. “You were with him yesterday?”

“I was. He came over to watch the Carolina game with me.”

The pitch of her voice spikes when she asks, “He was at your crib?”

“Yes, Karsheeda.”

“Well, I’ll be...”

“But we were honestly just watching the game. And I made appetizers.”

“And you think he’s not interested?”

I blush harder. A part of me wants to believe a man like Trevor would be interested in me while another part believes only perfect women deserve a man of his caliber. “Okay, I have to text him back.”

“Yeah, text your man back since you’re too scared to call,” Karsheeda says still looking over my shoulder.

 

Elsie: You’re welcome, Trevor.

Trevor: I want to see you again…

Trevor: and this time, I don’t want to wait until Friday.

 

“Oh snap. This man got some balls. I like him already. He said he wanted to see you and it couldn’t wait until Friday! Still think you’re just friends?”

“I—I don’t know how to respond back to him.”

“Girl, gimmie this phone,” Karsheeda says, snatching the phone out of my hand.

“Sheeda, no. Don’t type a response yet.”

“Are you going to respond?”

“I will. I just have to figure out what to say first.”

“So you do like him?”

“Yes and no. I mean, I can deal with us being friends, but I’m always so weird around guys.”

“Yet you were with him last night.”

“Because it was—it—we were just watching the game and—”

Now, I start to crumble. Even with these beautiful, thoughtful roses on my desk, I retreat into self-depravation mode, get lost in my own head and start to doubt myself.

I take a breath and attempt to get my bearings.

“Looka here, Izzle,” Karsheeda says. “If y’all are friends, and that’s what it is, then you’re good. Be that, but don’t shut the man out because you’re afraid of what could be. Shoot, to be honest, most women don’t know how to talk to guys. It ain’t just you. I wish I never said a word to my ex.”

I chuckle and she laughs along with me.

“So, go ahead,” she says, handing me my phone back. “He obviously had a good time with you if he wants to see you again.”

I take my phone from her grasp now that I know how to respond and that’s when I see a new text from Trevor.

 

Trevor: Call me.

 

I should’ve known that’s what he wanted in the first place. Instead of texting him back, I dial him up. He answers immediately with, “Hey, Ellie.”

I think about a possible nickname for him, but with a name like Trevor, there aren’t many options. Trev. Trevy. Tré. Yes! Tré.

“Hey, Tré.”

“Nice,” he says. “How long did it take you to come up with that one?”

“I just thought of it, actually, but I don’t like it. I’ll stick to Trevor.”

He chuckles. “Why didn’t you answer my text when I said I wanted to see you?”

Don’t fumble over your words. Just breathe. Talk. Communicate with the man for goodness flippin’ sakes...

“I don’t know. I was um...” I glance up at Karsheeda and she mouthed: delivering the mail, so I say, “I was delivering the mail.”

She gives me the thumbs up.

“I see. Now, that I have you on the phone, will you give me an answer?”

“Are you always this pushy?”

“No, but I have to be with you.”

“Why?”

“Because every time we talk, it feels like we’re starting over. You shouldn’t feel that way with me anymore especially after yesterday.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I—”

“An apology isn’t necessary but a yes to my request would be nice unless you don’t want to see me.”

“No, I—”

“You don’t want to see me?” he questions.

“I do.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up Wednesday at seven,” he says quickly.

“How do you know I don’t have plans for Wednesday?”

“How do you think I know, Ellie?”

“Oh. Right. I told you I’m a homebody.”

“Yes. You told me.”

“And now you’re using it to your advantage.”

“That I am. Is seven good?”

“Yes. That’s good. Where are we going?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Then how will I know what to wear?” I ask.

“Jeans and a sweater will be okay.”

“Alright. I’ll see you on Wednesday, then…with jeans and a sweater.”

He grins. “Okay, Ellie. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day.”

“You too, Trevor.”

“See you later.”

“Bye.” When I hang up, I’m replaying the conversation in my head to make sure it actually happened.

“Sounds like somebody’s got a date,” Karsheeda sings.

“He just wants to see.”

“Yeah. Sure. Listen, you better play your cards right with this one.”

“I don’t know how to play cards.”

She chuckles. “Then let your homegirl Sheeda baby school you on some thangs. Here’s how you know when a man is interested in being more than friends. For one thing, he’ll smile big and bright showing nearly every single tooth in his mouth when he sees you. Two,” she says holding up two fingers, “He’ll find reasons to touch you. Three, he’ll stare at you like you’re a meal instead of a person and four, he’ll set up the next time you two will see each other again before you part ways.”

“See, the problem is, I don’t want to confuse someone being nice to me with them actually taking an interest. Trevor has already told me he wasn’t the marrying kind. I definitely don’t want to waste time on a guy who’s afraid of marriage.”

“What is he afraid of?”

“He said his fiancée left him before they were to be married.”

“Ouch. Okay, so he comes with emotional baggage. No problem. We can work with that,” Karsheeda says, tapping a pen on her desk like she’s strategizing. “Okay, here’s what you do Izzle...keep playing the friend angle. Go on your lil’ date with him on Wednesday, but don’t imply you want to see him again. Let him make the call.”

“Why?”

“That way, you’ll know if he’s actually interested.”

“He is interested…in being my friend.”

“I said it before and I’ll say it again. Friends don’t send each other roses, honey bunches.”

I smile, looking at the roses again, rereading the note and daydreaming about what our time together on Wednesday will be like. Karsheeda has me nervous with all of her rules, but I’m sure that, just like Sunday, I’ll be fine when Trevor and I are actually hanging out together.