Twelve plates fill the distance between Victor and I, but only the two of us sit. This is the usual dinner for Victor and me—distance. From one end of the table to the other, I gaze at my husband as he tells me about the new artist his record label has just signed. Since we’ve been married, I’ve never seen him so intrigued by another woman’s beauty or talent. He’s going on and on about how she’s shaped like an hourglass with legs as long as a giraffe. How her overlong hair flows when she walks in a room and commands attention without uttering a single word. Not to mention, her skin is bronze and as flawless as a piece of fine silk.
I sit staring at him. Not jealous, but curious… interested. Sure enough, we’ve had our bumps in the road, and my question of love or lust remains, but I’ve convinced myself that he is trying, and his attempts do not go unnoticed. We still have our differences, such as the distance, but jealousy is one thing that I have no reason to be.
“Do you love me as your woman or as your wife?” I ask to break his rant and entertain my own thoughts.
“Is that a question?” He stops ranting in mid-sentence and redirects his focus.
“Yes. Do you have an answer?”
“Well, I can show you better than I can tell you.” He pushes back from his plate, removes the napkin from his lap, stands, and walks toward me without blinking. As he gets closer, his Light Blue cologne by Dolce & Gabbana stimulates my senses. Every one of them. Midway, the gravidity from his magnet pulls every being of my body. My legs wrap around his waist once he reaches me, picks me up, and carries me to our bedroom. He lays me on the bed and loves me until the early morning.
The rising sun wakens me before the alarms go off. I look at Victor. His eyes are barely open. I plant soft kisses on his lips and go to the shower. Today is a busy day for both of us. My clientele at the bank has tripled, and Victor’s company promoted him. Out of all the years he’s been with the company, he has succeeded, but the company’s success didn’t rocket until his promotion to CEO.
While in the shower, my husband comes into the bathroom and steps in the opposite shower. From the other end and through streams of flowing water, Victor yells to me, “You will love her.” Based on the description he provided last night, an image of her develops in my head as I turn and allow the water to pour down my spine. He rambles while we both freshen up front of the double mirrors.
Dressed, Victor comes over and embraces me around the waist and kisses me softly on the neck. “I’ve made reservations at Mr. Chow’s for seven o’clock. Wear something short and sexy in case we need to make a quick getaway.” Victor grabs his blazer and briefcase and turns to walk out the door.
His statement replays in my head as I examine myself in the mirror. The words linger as I select the backless, purple, thigh-length Valentino dress and silver Jimmy Choo stilettos for today’s attire. I pull an additional pair of flats out since today is a walk-to-work day.
My thoughts drift to mine and Victor’s relationship as I finish putting on my attire for the day. I quiver at images of our all-night lovemaking. Not because of how good the sex is, but more so at the thought of not having every aspect of a relationship. He reminds me that patience is what he needs, but I believe it is my patience that have run out. I wish we talked more about us and less about business. A lot of women on the outside looking in desire for a love connection like ours, or what they think is a love connection. To them, our relationship is the perfect. For me, it’s merely wonderful sex. I’m finally able to admit that after all these years.
The day is lovely, and the walk to the office is enjoyable as the breeze prevents the glaring sun from scorching me. I take the fifteen-minute stroll often. Mostly, when I need to clear my mind from all my cluttered thoughts. Lately, they’ve been on love and the meaning of genuine love. Victor is a great husband to me, but I often question his love for me, or if the great sex is what he loves. Is the sex what holds us together? We do little communicating outside of making love or him telling me about a new artist, and we only go out to business functions together. Since I’ve known Victor, business is always his number one priority. I occasionally wish I could talk to him about my thoughts, but since he always turns the conversation to himself, my wish immediately goes faint.
I love my husband, but am I truly in love with him? Does he make me happy mentally, physically, emotionally, and sexually? There are so many questions I should’ve asked prior to marrying him. Have I settled because I was lonely? Was I desperate? I know it’s not love that made me say yes to marrying him because I don’t know what love was. Is it too late to take it all back? If only I could turn the hands of time. Do I know what love is now? Is sex love? These thoughts stay consumed in my brain since I’ve been too busy to express them in my journal.
“Good morning, Serenity. You have a message from your husband,” Savannah informs me.
I’m at the office before I realize it. Lately, I become so confined in my thoughts that I either lose track of time or I’m at my destination sooner than expected. At my desk, I listen to Victor’s message, “What’s up Baby! I’ve changed our dinner reservations to lunch reservations. I got an important dinner meeting I must attend after work. I’m not sure how long the meeting will be, but I don’t want to cancel any plans. I’m sure you understand. See you soon.”
I hang the receiver up and stick my head out my office door. “Savannah, can you make sure you clear my lunch schedule and arrange for a car to pick me up at 11:30, please?” Mr. Chow’s is too far to walk, so I’ll have my driver, Mark, take me.
“I’ve already cleared your schedule, and I will have a car ready.”
I run through my appointments and send my clients on their way, and as usual, time does not wait for me. It’s already 11:10, which means there’s only twenty minutes left to fix my make-up, change my shoes, and get downstairs. I wore the dress I picked out this morning as a shirt because I dare walk down the street in it. In my walk-in work closet, I remove my pants and the dress transforms from a nice shirt to a sexy dress. I’m wrinkled. I skim through the garments and choose a similar Valentino dress; same color, length, and style, but reveals more cleavage. Dressed and ready to go, Savannah speaks through the intercom, “Mark is downstairs waiting.”
“Let him know I’m on my way down.” I pick my purse up and leave my office.
“Well, don’t you look stunning,” Savannah says as I pass her desk on the way to the elevator. I wink at her and laugh on the inside as I take in the gasps from the other assistants.
“Nice dress Serenity,” Felicia says as she joins me on the elevator. “What’s the occasion?”
“Victor and I are having lunch at Mr. Chow’s. I’m meeting his new artist, and, well, you never know what may happen afterwards.”
Felicia laughs. “Oh, I understand that, trust me. Have a wonderful lunch, which I’m sure you will,” she tells me as we exit the elevator into the lobby and go separate ways.
Riding in the back seat, my mind wonders to my husband’s new artist and a ball of anxiety suddenly hits me in the abdomen. My interest grows, but I try to disregard the fact that I’m so intrigued. I’ve never met her, but stress takes over not just my stomach, but my entire body.
We reach Mr. Chow’s and Mark comes around, opens my door, and extends his hand to help me out. “Have a great lunch, ma’am,” he says, then asks, “Shall I wait, or will you text me when you’re ready?”
“No, Mark, you don’t have to wait. I’ll text you if I don’t catch a ride with Victor.” His eyes remind me of someone, but I can’t put my finger on it. I’ve never paid attention to that until today.
I glide through the restaurant with the supermodel walk that would slay anybody’s runway. My curls bounce on my breast as I sway from side to side in the perfectly fitted, size six dress. All eyes are on me. At the table, Victor sits with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. The same emotion of anxiety occurs again. She looks familiar, and it feels like we’ve met before, but I can’t recall when or where.
“Hazel, this is my wife, Serenity White. Serenity, this is Hazel Brown,” my husband introduces us. As Hazel shakes my hand, chills run through my body, causing every hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. I know her. Did we go to school together? She reminds me of Carmen. Could this be her? Could she have found me? Is she the woman of my dreams? Am I dreaming?
I sit nervously as we order lunch. Victor does his usual babbling of how great an artist she is and how he’s excited to work with her, but my mind is not on the conversation. Instead, it’s on the weird feeling that I know her. I try to figure out where from, but I’m at a loss.
As my husband speaks, I catch her glaring at me several times. There’s something behind those eyes that makes me tingle. This woman is doing something to me. She’s doing something to my body, something to my mind. It’s a feeling I’ve never felt, or have just not with my husband. I’m confused. I glance at my watch. I’ve only been here for ten minutes. Time is drifting for the first time since I can recall. My armpits sweat. I take a gulp from the glass of the water in front of me, but that doesn’t help, so I excuse myself.
“Is everything okay, Baby?” Victor gets up to pull my chair back.
“Yes. I just need to go powder my nose,” I say in a quiet voice and not showing my anxiety.
Staring in the mirror and trying to calm myself down, I close my eyes and take slow, deep breaths as an attempt to ease the pain in my stomach. It doesn’t go away. Instead, it speeds up as I feel someone’s breath on the back of my neck. Only Victor knows this is my weak spot, so my eyes remain closed as I assume it’s him taking this as an opportunity for another one of our perfect getaway sexcapades. His hands run along my sides, caressing me softly. He’s being gentle with me, considering we’re pressed for time. I enjoy the feeling. It’s a fresh feeling that’s calming me down, so I embrace it.
“I’ve been waiting many years for this day,” she says in the sweetest, most sensual voice I’ve ever heard. I open my eyes to see Carmen standing behind me. My Carmen. It’s the same Carmen it took me months to get over, years. How did she find me? My intuition was right. I’m puzzled. Unable to speak, I refrain from asking questions.
“You left without a word. I looked for you. No one would tell me where you’d disappeared to.” She whispers in my ear. Still unable to move, I continue to listen. “I refused to give up and then finally, I saw a picture of you and your husband on a magazine cover while in the grocery store. You changed your name. That’s why I couldn’t find you. But that face, those beautiful eyes, and that smile… I’ll never forget. I’ve missed you so much. We were young back then, but there’s not a day that goes by when I don’t think of you.” I’m trying to process everything she’s saying.
“Se-re-ni-ty,” she slowly whispers in my ear, allowing each syllable to roll off her tongue in the sexiest way. I don’t move. Holding back the tears, I blink as they fill up in the wells of my eyes. “Mel-o-dy,” she whispers just as slowly. She says my name. A name I haven’t heard in so long. A name I thought no longer existed. Melody. That’s me. My knees weaken beneath me. She holds me up. A tear falls. Our bodies face each other. My arms wrap around her as I cry quietly into her neck. We speak no words. Time is still. The room is still. Our hazel and light brown eyes finally meet.
The woman I fell in love with stands before me. The woman I ran from because of my confusion stands before me. My evil mother made me feel like a confused sinner. My feelings made me question myself and my sexuality. I did everything in my power to forget about her and erase her from my mind. Victor was my scapegoat. He helped me forget about her. Thunderstruck, my hands touch her soft hair. It has grown to be long and beautiful. Oh, how she has changed in the physical aspect, but the amazing feeling she gives me remains the same. It’s like I’m in my senior year of college again, back when we first met. It’s a feeling that’s becomes more powerful with this interaction; a feeling too powerful to describe.
My thoughts speed up. Time moves swiftly. My husband pops in my head. Muddle sets in and it shows. She sees the panic, grabs my face, and says, “Don’t worry. I have it all figured out.” Her demeanor is calm and refreshing. “We have little time. Your driver, Mark, is a great friend of mines. He’s waiting out back for us. I’ve been watching you for the past two years, waiting for the right moment. I don’t want to sign with your husband’s company. It was all a front. Everything that I’m doing, I’m doing to have you back in my life. Will you come with me?”
Flabbergasted, I think about the love I had for her and how I was ashamed to admit it. My thoughts take over my being again. I think about the malicious things my mother told me about the women she referred to as ‘dykes’. I think about how my success is because of my mother. The talks Carmen and I used to have, and the way she made me feel all circle in my brain. I think about my husband and how he would feel. While I’m doing all this thinking, I think about my happiness, its importance, the opportunity to be free, and the opportunity to embrace love; true love. I think about my dreams and desires.
Looking in her eyes, I nod my head up and down, not caring about my husband, my career, or what I’ll do. Nothing matters at this point. My body and mind both eases. My heart eases. A safe feeling overcomes me. For the first time in my life, I feel wanted. Not sexually or physically, but more mentally and emotionally.
She takes my hand as we sneak our way through the restaurant, and to the back door where Mark is waiting. We get in the back seat, and as the car pulls forward, I don’t look behind me. I fixate my eyes on hers. I realize I’m doing it again. I’m running, just as I have before, but this time, I don’t look at it as running. I look at it as trading a life where sex is my only means of staying for a life of freedom.