Some Day One Day

11.0

Unable to keep away from work and in dire need of some extra money, I never took the next day that I had off and went duteously to work.
Work was the unfortunate host, and I was the greedy parasite. It was becoming my new addiction. I felt like I always had to do something because if I sat around and didn't do anything, I'd think too much and that would make me become nervous, which would eventually lead to me having a panic attack.
I remember when somebody once told me that I had an addictive personality.
That person was Shawn of course.
After taking a much-needed afternoon nap to rest my exhaustion from work, I drudged up Angie's front steps a few minutes past three. So many cars occluded the driveway that I wondered for a second if I was at the wrong house. Then I began to feel uneasy, hoping against all hope that this wasn't yet another one of her get-togethers that she'd deceptively invited me to.
I was too tired, too spent to cope with people other than the few that I was used to.
Regardless, I convinced myself to stop brewing anxiety and see what she was calling for since I was already there. At my ringing the doorbell, she'd opened the door shortly, her face cutting into a radiant smile. A heavy squall of noise trammeled out of the door once, evoking a cold shiver up my spine.
The same way I was addicted to work, I'd once been addicted to crowds. I remembered my allegiance to be around people on occasion. Now I searched for the darkest corner whenever too many people brimmed over a room.
"Hi sweety. Sup?" she stepped aside to give me room to enter.
"Nothing much," I stepped in and peeked atop her head, "Your hair looks amazing girl."
Her fine, bronze hair was swept up into a ponytail of fastidiously curled strands of hair that made her looked like an angel. She looked amazing.
Angie smiled blushingly, coiling a finger around a falling, bouncing curl.
"Thanks. That's why I called you here."
I'd heard her, but my helpless curiosity turned my head to the foyer where a bounteous crowd of men filled up their living room.
"What's the occasion?" I finally glanced at her, temporarily forgetting what she'd just told me.
Angie wrinkled her nose like something foul polluted the air.
"One word-Sunday football."
That was all I needed to hear to cognize why there were so many of them there. Men were reputed as dogs, but one thing they remained faithful to was sports-at least that's what Ojay used to tell me all the time. Shawn hadn't been one to care since he never understood the game. Shawn was actually more in tune with soccer more than American football up until Ojay explained it to him. He was soon possessed just like most males in this country-if not more than the norm since he loved sports so much but never had the chance to play.
The sudden thought of Shawn made me feel like something with tiny cold legs crawled vastly on each side of my arms, making me shiver inwardly.
I wondered if he was here.
So many cars were littered outside that I'd barely noticed his.
When I heard a deep, throaty laugh, I knew that it was him.
I could discern Shawn's laugh even if I'd been born deaf and blind, just by feeling the vibrations of it thundering into my soul.
A tall figure walked across the foyer, sooty wife beater and tan sweats with a matching fitted cap.
Much to my dismay, it was Shawn.
My knees buckled at the sight of his bulging, muscular arms and my cheeks heated, forcing me to turn away in hopes that he wouldn't perceive the back of my head easily. After I'd moved here, Angie told me that Shawn didn't usually go to their place and that he and Ojay usually hang out at nightclubs and other events. Why he was so recurring at her home lately, I didn't know but I knew it was anything other than my deepest hope.
The cloud of dread started to form above me and I knew its precipitation would fall any time soon. My heart started to pound anxiously, and I wanted to get out of here. That night after we run into each other on our spot beneath Brooklyn bridge, I'd gone into a neglected part of both my heart and mind and toyed with the idea that he should have pulled me into the tutelage of his arms and reclaim me as his once upon a time lover. I usually never allowed myself to think about Shawn in that way because it got me feeling extensively depressed afterwards with ruminations of what could have been had I not messed both of us up.
Only that night the Lord leased mercy to me and blessed me with a dream instead of those monstrous nightmares that were so constant they were nearly redundant. This time, I had a wet dream that left me waking up in the middle of the night with panting breaths and sappy underwear that needed to be promptly changed.
Let's just say that after that dream, any time I thought of Shawn, a conflagration would scorch the forsaken place in between my thighs and I'd end up wishing I had him in my life.
When Shawn said something that everyone else laughed at, a sensation akin to a hot needle pricked my neck and I jumped. Hearing his voice like that made me so darn uneasy that I felt desperate need for something to calm me down. My arm began to itch and my damn I needed a smoke.
"Let's go to the kitchen," Angie grabbed my hand, completely unaware of my botheration at Shawn's carriage.
"Most of the hair magazines are there anyway." She continued and I dogged behind her in a hesitant slunk, not really wanting to be there knowing Shawn's presence lingered, and mad at myself for being excited by the fact all at once.
We got there only to be attacked by a mountainous cluster of dishes in the sink. Uncooked food that I hoped Angie planned on preparing harbored on the counter pitifully. Like a hypnotized servant, I gravitated to them and turned the facet for the water on. Finally, something to keep me occupied. But like Shawn had once said, you can work with your hands, but your mind won't follow. At first I never understood it, and he made me figure it out on my own until I finally concluded that he meant the mind is a wandering one no matter what you're doing manually.
He'd told me that because he said whenever he was at work, he couldn't stop thinking about me, where I was, what I was doing ...
"What...are...you...doing?" Angie asked haltingly behind me.
"Look at this mess!" I dribbled liquid soap onto a damp sponge and picked up one of the gazillion plates.
"Beyonce put that plate down." She demanded.
"I can't stand mess," I scrubbed off the off-white china with decorative petals, "It's a pet peeve of mine."
It truly was. I couldn't sit in a contaminated place. That's why my abode was always so spotless, no matter how misgiving, compared to the place outside me where I lived.
"You never used to be like this, you know."
Up until I met Shawn, I helplessly mused while agilely rinsing off the soapy foam I lathered. Before my parents let our maid go since she had family problems that needed her full attention, I was spoiled rotten. I was accustomed to the constant pampering of having the help pick up my trash after me. Beyonce Knowles doing it by herself had always been unheard of. It literally pained me to do things such as constructing my bed early morning. When the maid left, my life was just too difficult in my eyes. I had to do my own laundry, pick up my own dog's shit, make my own bed, clean my own room...my mom even dared to ask me to take out the trash.
So I was this lazy girl with rich parents who felt and expected that everyone else was supposed to do everything for me since I was so comfortable with it. And what made me more unnerving was the fact that I knew I was being a spoiled brat while I was doing it.
It was only after witnessing Shawn's lifestyle and how he always had to work for himself, I was ashamed by my outlook on life. Standing beside Shawn made me want to work. I wanted to work.
I wanted to be like him because he possessed something that I didn't have. And I didn't absorb his work ethic, his thinking skills, because he had something I didn't have. For the first time it wasn't about getting something that wasn't instilled in me. It was about admiring somebody else and appreciating them as a person.
The only people, in my entire life, who I'd, ever viewed in that respectful light...were my parents.
So one can only imagine the pedestal of love and respect I put Shawn on.
Isn't that something? He didn't even have to tell me about myself in lengthy lectures.
All he had to say was a terse, hard-hitting sentence and all I had to do was look at him practice what he preached and easily become inspired.
He wasn't just the guy who I'd hopelessly fallen in love with.
He was also my teacher, my bestfriend, my...
"Beyonce!" I was abruptly yanked away from my musings by my cousin's shrill, hyperactive voice.
"What?!" I grated at her and got more annoyed when she turned the running water off.
"Girl...stop that. I'll do that later." She asked as she held my wrist and led me over to the centered counter where the tall stools stood.
"Now," she handed me a paper towel and I took it grudgingly to dry my wet hands, "I'm going through these magazines and I was hoping you would help me pick out a hairstyle. I'm going for a strapless wedding gown so that might help us make the decisions."
"The one you have now is pretty." I answered automatically, staring blankly at made up woman of the magazine she'd thrust in front of me. It took me back to the day when I'd gotten a small spot inside a various magazine. It had all been exciting to everyone other than me for the simple fact that I took some things for granted more than I should have allowed myself to.
"I'm not sure I like it..."
"It's nice." I pressed off handedly.
"Aw Beyonce wont you just look through the magazine?" She asked plaintively, seated across from me and ravaging through a magazine.
"I hate making decisions like that." I complained truthfully, lazily turning the first page of the hair magazine without a care.
I remember I'd been so out of tune at my wedding that I uncaringly let everyone else decide for me. It wasn't my wedding anyway. I was getting married for reasons other than the legitimate reason for marriage itself. But marriage had been abused and scorned so many times that I started to believe that it was vacant of meaning.
Angie and I quietly looked through magazines, her voicing her opinions more than me, when a sudden male voice sounded that brought my head up to see what about.
"Hey Angie, you have any Advil on you, or any pain relievers?"
Immediately, I shrank at the tall, caramel skinned man who'd stepped into the room. He was heart-ceasingly attractive at first glance. I'd become so reclusive that whenever an impeccably attractive man looked my way, I'd turn away in mortification and shame, knowing that I had nothing to offer them but misery. But he was so handsome that I could do all but look away when his dark, dazzling eyes briefly held mine.
"Hey." He greeted me with an affable, toothy smile, revealing snow-white teeth.
"Hi." I applauded myself for not sounding so cowardly and stammering, especially under these unnerving exigencies.
"Yeah, hold up a sec." Angie answered while struggling to turn away from her magazine, soon sliding off the stool and sweeping to a cabinet to obtain the man's need.
He started to stare at me in an admirable way that eventually made me buckle, twitch a polite smile and focus on my magazine.
"Oh uh, I'm Erving." He said and when I looked up it was to find him extending a large hand to me.
Reflexively I turned to Angie, who thank God, her back was to us. Shyly, I placed my hand in his and he clasped it firmly. I'd staved myself away from male contact for such a long time that the mere touch of his warm, strong, and powerful hand made me feel familiar warmth in my womb.
"Hi." I said lamely when my mind shut down. I used to be so boisterous and loud whenever a guy spoke to me that the old me would have cringed in shame at the coy way I was behaving right now.
"You are?" he raised an inquiring brow.
"Oh," my cheeks burned with embarrassment, "I'm Beyonce."
He roved over my features with intrigued inquiry before finally letting go of my hand and stepping back. It had been a long time since I'd stared at a guy long enough to acknowledge him check me out that way.
I was suddenly hot and bothered.
"Pleasure meeting you." He said with propriety and I smiled stiffly at him since my face hurt from all the burning so much. I blocked him out of my image by focusing solely on the magazine that had once lacked my attention.
"Here you go Erving." Angie drawled in a surprisingly amused tone that made my gaze fly up to her while giving him the bottle of pills. She was wearing a sly grin that told me she picked up on our little greeting.
"Thanks." He said to her and amassed me one last time before sauntering out of the kitchen. I planned on looking away, I swear I did, but he had one of the best calves I'd seen on a man in a while. The chance I took at staring at him after he left cost me because Angie began what I knew I wouldn't hear the end of.
"He's sexy ain he-"
"He iight." I said dryly even though a certain part of me was anything but. Ignoring Angie's disbelieving glare, I thumbing through the magazine, hoping that this conversation would be dropped.
"Girl please," I heard the grating of the stool that she sat on, "Even some straight guys admit how fine he is-"
"Angie! Why you got to say things like that?"
"You think he's sexy don't you? Don't lie," she narrowed her eyes to suspicious slits, "It's all in your eyes..."
"He's okay." I waved her off, knowing that my all but perceptive cousin wouldn't fall so easily for my lame attempts at lying.
"Admit it Beyonce. There's no shame in your game..."
The way she said it made me burst out into helpless laughter and I let my foreheadland on my forearm, which lay on the counter.
"Grrr....I'm so freaking horny! It's just not fair!" I ground out in frustrated truth and it was Angie's turn to laugh.
Recollecting myself from my hunched over position, I sat up straight and schooled my features into determination.
"Now, let's find that hairstyle." I put a professional air to my tone in hopes that she'd take me seriously.
"When's the last time you had sex Beyonce?" Angie asked way too bluntly for my liking.
The word 'sex' made me flinch like I'd been struck by a bolt of lightning.
"What's wrong with you?" Angie asked with a laugh.
"Stop saying that." I chastised.
"What? Sex?"
I reflexively winced again and blushed embarrassedly.
"When's the last time you had sex? And you better not be on the cobweb, dusty side of things..."
My hard glare did nothing to intimidate Angie because her blank stare didn't change.
I couldn't answer that question without embarrassing myself and the whole female population at that.
"Man these cornrows are so on point." I sang out, hoping that pointing out a hairstyle would give my attempt to change the conversation some credibility.
"Seriously, when's the last time you had a nigga give it to you so good that you slipped into a coma-"
"Angie stop this right now!" I squelched my laughter, placing my hand on her forearm and squeezing it in dire need for her to stop because I could feel myself laughing.
"When was the last time you had a nigga stroke it so good you started speaking a language you didn't even know existed?"
Slight laughter sneaked out from my tightly sealed lips and I whacked her on her arm, rearranging my features into annoyance.
"Stop it." I warned through gnashed teeth when I caught sight of Ojay walking into the kitchen. His quiet entrance remained a mystery to Angie though.
"When's the last time a nigga laid that shit down girl. He laid it soooo good that you lost all memory for a good five minutes after that. You didn't know where you were, didn't know what your name was, shit, didn't even know what day of the week it was...Lord Jesus the dick is a very good thing I tell you Beyonce you need some dick in your life, you need some dick in your life girl and you will be happy." She said theatrically with a shake of her head and looked so damn serious that I couldn't contain myself.
I clamped both hands in a cross fashion over my mouth to prevent me from laughing at not only her words but the look of astonishment and amazement on Ojay's face as he stood behind her.
"I'm sorry girl, Ojay has just got me so fucking wound up it ain even funny." She said as if it were the most stressful feat in the world and she didn't know how to fight it.
A slow, proud smile lifted Ojay's face and he folded his arms and bit her lip, staring at the crown of the head that belonged to the woman he'd loved since his early years.
Angie leaned forward, her voice dropped to an intimate whisper
"Girl, I think he made me a sex addict. No lie. I'm a sex addict because of him. He is the reason." She said it with so much earnestness like she had factual evidence to prove it.
Peals of helpless laughter found their way out of my imprisonment and I was laughing like I hadn't laughed in months. I think what made it so funny was that I'd hadthese conversations with Angie a long time ago in highschool-when we were kids who were supposed to know nothing about sex. She was telling me how sex with Ojay was God's gift on earth and back then my view on sex was that it was overrated. Angie told me not to have sex with someone who was good at it because I'd become possessed and want it constantly. I told her she'd been exaggerating like a fool. That was, until Shawn and I shared our first night and I ended up going back to Angie after three weeks, confessing that I was a sex fiend and needed help like she did too. Shawn had even joked that I tired him out asking for sex constantly, stating that I needed therapy to fix that problem. Angie had told me that Ojay had said the same thing about her too and we'd both agreed laughingly at a sleepover that if they weren't so damn good, we wouldn't have to ask for it all the got damn time like practitioners.
"Man Beyonce, this man...actually spanked me the other day-" a large hand came in front of her mouth and she jumped at the surprise of it.
"Why you fillin' up my little sister with all that foul shit man?" Ojay asked with a smirk, now hugging an astonished Angie by the waist as he stood behind her. She wasn't by any means embarrassed that he'd caught her talking to me about their escapades because she'd done it since the day their relationship was born and he was probably used to it. And he obviously had nothing to be ashamed of with the way she boasted about his skills in the bedroom. By then I was fallen on the counter again, my eyes wet with tears of merriment.
"Hi baby." Angie said laughingly and Ojay bent over to smack a peck on her lips before giving her this look that can't be easily explained with words. I guess if you've been in love, you'll know what the look is like.
My heart ached.
"What are you teaching our baby sister man? You gettin' her mind all fucked up."
"I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself. This is all your fault though."
"Man I ain' do nothin'," he let go of her and looked around the kitchen searchingly, "You seen where I left my car keys? I think I left my wallet in the car and me and the niggas are trying to bet on who's gonna win."
"Bedroom. You left them on the bed." She answered instantly and Ojay smiled, giving her another grateful kiss before letting go.
"Aye Beyonce, I better not hear you're taking notes from Angie about all that mess she's talking." Ojay said as he made to leave.
I opened my mouth to respond before Angie cut me off.
"Oh please Ojay you act like she's never had sex before. You don't remember those crazy stories she used to tell us about her and Shawn...having sex on crazy places like the school bleachers."
My body had stilled the moment Angie mentioned Shawn's name and I was nearly transported to the time that had happened but it was suddenly too painful to think about it.
Ojay's uncomfortable countenance at my reaction to Angie's remark sparked off an awkwardness in the room that chased my elated spirits away.
Ojay chuckled uneasily with a shake of his head before jogging up the other set of stairs in the kitchen. Angie, who'd for once taken note of her sometimes, unwarranted ostentatious behavior, smiled apologetically at me.
"I'm sorry Beyonce...it kind of slipped..." her voice tapered off and I fixed a pretentious smile on my face before thumbing through my magazine once again.
Angie had such a big mouth that sometimes it galled me that Shawn didn't know all the things I begged her and Ojay not to tell him. It had been easy in a sense for word not to get around since all of my irresponsible years were practiced in a different, far away state, but for her to keep her mouth sealed about me and my life from him I wondered how she did it. Once when they brought me in for my last intervention, she told me that if I didn't change this time because of them, then she'd call Shawn and ask him to help me out.
That was one of the last straws for me.
It also helped that when I'd moved in with Ojay and Angie, I learned that Shawn was off at some college, spending most of his free time going to Barbados to visit his beloved grandmother. Ojay had told me that was his going away spot-the spot he used to get away from the corporate world which he called 'the world of soulless people'.
Silence claimed the room and all we heard were the shuffle of swiftly turning paper and the ruckus of excited males over goal scores. I could distinguish Shawn's voice out of everyone else's. It stood out to me as always, leaving me more uncomfortable after Angie's last choice of words.
I do remember doing it under the school bleachers when a football game was going on...
Damn, we had been some daring little rascals when I thought about it. The places we'd had sex were just morally wrong. The library, in both of our cars. Damn, we even did it in a place that I still gave me the same guilt I felt after we did it. It was much worse since the pastor had caught us in the act. Shawn with his righteous ways, and usually calm demeanor felt so guilty too that he cussed me out afterwards, saying that I'd tempted him into sinning to fulfill my own wishes.
Damn, we had been some crazy lovers.
"Hey...you remember those sex scenes you used to write?" Angie asked me suddenly and I grimaced in chagrin and an embarrassment so deep I felt the burn in the core of my chest.
"Don't remind me of that." I said because the memory was too painful for me to recall.
"Girl you used to have some fire stories-"
"Angie, come off it." That was a very delicate subject for me. There had been a point and time when writing had been my blazing passion-my escapism for when Shawn wasn't around. I'd started out with poems using Angie's remarkable talent to pen her emotions to paper as encouragement enough. Then after I met Shawn, sometimes our special, stolen moments together would be so precious to me that I never wanted them to die down, so I'd relay it all over again through writing if I had free time.
That's how beautiful we were together...
So magnificent that I wanted to relive our moments in writing since letting go was such a hard thing for me to do...
"Beyonce..."
"Hmm?" I frowned upon myself for thinking about Shawn again and sighed heavily, "I don't write anymore Angie okay? It was just a past time I did when I was younger and it was pointless. It wasn't that serious. I wasn't good at it anyway..."
"Shut up. Do you still have some of your old work?" for the first time today Angie's visage meant business and with her hard head I knew this would take all night, "Look, I know this lady who works at this publishing company-"
"Don't you dare. I don't even wanna hear it-"
The ringing of her phone saved me from the conversation that I felt too delicate to impeach. I watched her give the phone an inspective glance before punching a button.
"Hello?" she said as she waded back to the counter.
"Hey baby," my auntie's voice filled up the kitchen, "What you up to for today?"
"Looking for hairstyles that'll suit my dress. How are you Mama?"
"I'm good. Now tell me why didn't your rotten butt come to church today? Just cause you grown don't mean I can't whoop that ass for not coming in to praise the lord. "
I smiled. I remember the times when we were younger, Angie would have to go to church ever on a regular basis while even if my mother complained, I still never went. Unlike me, Angie's parents were far too strict despite their hopelessly loving ways. My parents let me get away with everything and at that time I figured I was a lucky child.
Oh, how I was so wrong.
"Hi Aunt Meagan." I said out loud with a beaming smile. I loved my auntie to death. She was one of the few people I didn't have to hide from because she didn't remind me of my past mistakes, but gave me hope for a future that very few believed I had.
"Is that my baby Beyonce?" she asked ecstatically.
"Yes ma'am." I answered with a cheeky smile, only for it to drop when none other than Shawn strolled into the kitchen. He clearly did a double take when he saw me.
Too afraid to look him in the eye, focused downcast at the magazine.
"How are you doin' sweetheart?"
"I'm doing fine auntie." I answered; all the while paying meticulous attention to Shawn's padding across the tiled floors. I didn't even have to look at him to know where he was going. I used the sound of his movements.
And why I was doing this, hell, I didn't know.
"And you?" I somehow managed to keep myself on track.
"I'm fine baby. Oh yes I was going to call you later on this week. Your uncle and I are going to the cemetery to visit your parents and sister tomorrow. Do you want to join us?"
Of all the questions to ask and of all the timing for Shawn to stop by.
I was perfectly stilled by my auntie's words, frozen by the avalanche of shame that fell upon me. I hadn't visited my parent's grave sight in months that were uncountable to me now. I had barely made it through the funeral. Anytime I went to visit them, I reacted in a way that a normal person shouldn't-at least in my eyes. The sight of my parent's and sister's tombstones made me weak, and the weakness I felt reminded me of how weak I'd been my entire life, and that reminded me that I was still yet to let go of their two year old death. Which made me angrier because I tried to let go, I really did, but it just wasn't feasible.
I don't know why I wouldn't let go.
An unsettling quiet went through the room and I felt two pairs of eyes pinioned to me.
I knew the quiet wouldn't die until I spoke.
"I-I'm working that day," I struggled to say on constricted breath, "But I'll call you if anything changes."
"Oh okay honey." She said easily in a way that was supposed to lead me to believe that she didn't pick up on my discomfiture, but my aunt knew me too well. She'd pulled me aside once to tell me that I needed to get over this reckless phobia I had and go see them.
She wanted me to bravely face my fears she said.
And I knew that I was more unnerved because Shawn had been there and I hadn't handled the situation with regal dignity like I should have. I'd always hated him to see me at weak points even when we first met.
Aunt Meagan went on to talk with Angie, who considerably picked up the phone and spoke to her. Getting up from my stool, I grabbed my purse and left the kitchen without giving homage to eye contact.
I was in drastic need of a smoke.
Once I got there, I buttressed my back against the pillar of Angie's patio and lit up a cigarette that I'd fished from my purse. The first respire of the cigarette contended me but not enough to put me out of the misery I could predict myself descending into. Dragging a whicker glider up to the top step of the stairs, I threw myself heavily on it and stared blindly ahead of me at the street of gold with its setting sun. Everytime a thought would sear pain through me, I'd bring up the cigarette to my lips and try to compensate that.
What would my parents do had they known of my addiction? Would they have let me get away with it?
Save the steady noise from the men in the house, the outside was peaceful and quiet. It was a Sunday afternoon, and Sunday had always been a favorite day of mine at first just because I loved it, then later on because it was a day Shawn and I shared with the spare time we had.
It remained this quiet and serene way until I heard the door opening and sighed. Now wasn't a time that I wanted to talk.
"Angie, I'm fine alright?" I said exasperatingly. I was inveigled to tell her that I would just simply call it a day and leave since I was so tired and that he wedding was still three months away, so we still had time.
"You look anything but."
Time stopped at the realization that it wasn't my cousin. Rubbing my forehead, I mouthed a cuss word that remained unheard when I heard the latch catching the door. What followed were laggard, heavy footsteps until from the corner of my eyes I saw him standing beside me.
"Hi Shawn." I said after breathing deeply in hopes to quell my nerves.
I wish he wouldn't have to stand so close.
I could feel the warmth of him.


"Sup." He responded.
"Nothing," I finally let my head fall back to find him averting his gaze from the cigarette to my face, "You?"
"I'm good."
His hand was wrapped around a can of beer and I knew that he'd be going back to the watch the game soon. My throat felt tight because he looked so good that day--but when didn't he ever? He'd always had an affinity for fitted caps along with hoodies and I was always glad he did because they looked good on him. Along with those, he also constantly put hoods from jackets over his head, which was such a turn on the sight alone made me lose myself sometimes. But his reasons had been any other than for fashion purposes.
"So when did the smoking start?" he asked quietly, leaning against the pillar opposite the one behind me.
I turned away with a shrug, "A few months ago. Are you enjoying the game?"
"Yeah it's all right. Someone once always used to say that smoking isn't good for you."
A rope wound itself tightly around my throat so I didn't say anything but only look at him. Shawn was never one to badger someone about their choices, but he'd hit you hard with a comment or two just to remind you of your ways in case you got too caught up in whatever you were doing.
I knew he wouldn't berate me for smoking, but this wouldn't be the last I was hearing of this.
Sitting there in front of Shawn in this dishabille state made me embarrassed and shameful of myself. Again he was giving me that look of ambiguity, the one that used to annoy the hell out of me the first time I met him because I couldn't tell what he was thinking. I would always quickly assume that he was judging me to be on the alert side of things though.
When he sat down at the top step, my brows drew together in confusion. The masculinity of his back turned my mouth dry like someone had just stuffed a handful of cotton into it.
"The game's not over." I stated the obvious.
After a large drag of his drink, and obliviously captivating me with the movements of his strong neck, Shawn leaned backwards, then shifted until his back was against the pillar. One leg was folded against the patio and the other was lazily on the steps. His foot nearly touched mine and a shiver shook through me at that.
"You're right. It isn't." he said in a gruff tone that certified to me his words had nothing to do with the game.
With flushing cheeks in reaction to the flare that sped through me, I turned away from him.
"I'm sorry. I'll put this out." I leaned forward and meshed the ashy tip of my cigarette on the floor, soon letting it lay there and making a note to pick it up before I left.
"You didn't have to." I heard him say.
"I don't like smoking around people." I murmured and caught him nodding from the corner of my eye. Shawn had never smoked a day in his life. He had never been one to care for smoking. That will of obedience was something I had admired yet found so out of his character.

When things fell too silent, I audaciously glanced at Shawn to find him staring straight ahead of him. His features were hard, with obvious traces of pain all over his face. His jaw was tightly set, evoking an array of pent up words that I knew were dying to flee out. His eyes, introspective but hidden as always, held meaning to them that only few got the capability of seeing through. I'd once had that capability, that exclusive allowance that no one else could get no matter how hard they tried.
My heart started to thud against my rib cage and I wondered if he'd heard it with the way he suddenly turned to me.
I reacted like a steamroller had trammeled me.
At my small jump Shawn stared at me strangely and I began to feel even stranger, dropping my eyes away from his.
"You iight ma?" Shawn asked me after a while, the concern of his voice reaching to me and stroking my heart. He hadn't spoken to me that way ever since I'd seen him. His tone was always emotionless, detached, and indifferent...
"Yes," I answered huskily conjoined with a jerky nod, "Yes I'm fine."
I attempted a smile only for it to be tremulous, showing how unstable and broken I was inside. I just didn't want him to delve into a subject that I was still yet to create a comfort zone with.
"When did all this happen?" he prodded next, his brows drown together in perplexity over the bridge of his nose. He wasn't looking at me, but was truly trying to get through me.
He had always done that.
"When did all of what happen?" my voice shook, a clear indication that I was losing my composure.
"This." For some strange reason I knew what 'this' meant. It meant me. My life, and what had become of it.
I hesitated.
He waited.
And then I waited for him to tell me what he always said whenever I was reluctant, 'you don't have to tell me if you don't want to'.
But he never did say that.
He stared at me not expectantly, but with a frown and to my surprise, what looked to be guilt.
"You remember the tsunami that occurred in Thailand two years ago?"
Surprise was evident on his features, but he nodded eventually.
"Well..." my voice tapered of because there was nothing else that I could say if it wasn't as clear as day for him to know the rest.
It took a while for it to register in him and I was a little bit shocked that he didn't know about it even though I should have been. I did remember when I made the mistake of going to see him, he asked me if my family had finally approved of him.
"Teresa too?"
I nodded, my vision blurring before I blinked the incoming tears away.
"Fuck..." he muttered under his breath and I remained in silent shock.
"How did you find out?"
"Lee told me. I'd been sick for a while and woke up to the news. They found them in the hotel they were staying at." my story was jagged and disorganized but that's because I was so accustomed to not talking about it that on the rarities that I did, I didn't know how to say it. Their bodies were part of the others that were counted for in the hotel they'd stayed at. So it's not like they'd vanished like some others had in the natural disaster. It's not like I could be wistful with the thought that they were somewhere out there.
Shawn stared at me with the horror that I felt and it was nearly too painful to look.
"I'm sorry about that." He murmured, a deep frown on his face with his thoughtful focus on the can of beer.
"It's okay."
Silence lingered for a while.
"Man, why the fuck doesn't Ojay tell me anything? How could he keep something like this from me?"
I was about to say because I asked him not to, but refrained.
Shawn glanced up at me and I got the impression that he was slightly embarrassed for revealing too much emotion.
"I'm sorry," he murmured lowly with his eyes averted, "I was just so caught up with trying to get my life together and dealing with shit that I didn't even notice what was going on around me."
Shawn's need to explain himself to me surprised the hell out of me. I was stunned so much to the point where speech was incorrigible.
"I can't believe this shit." He undertoned to himself and my heart fluttered suddenly. Shawn had always been a caring person. Anyone whom Shawn loved, their pain was his own. Now I knew that he didn't love me, but he had known how much I'd loved and cared for my parents.
I hoped that all of this wasn't springing from sympathy but knew better.
"Shawn, it's okay. Really." I told him even though I felt otherwise.
"Are you okay?" his abrupt question caught me off guard and I gulped hard, trying to put off complacence in spite of myself.
"Mhmm. Are you?"
"I'm straight."
After a long awkward silence, Shawn tilted his head at me in consternation. My heart skipped a beat at the sight.
"Beyonce, what the hell is going on?" he asked me fretfully and I could see that he was really upset and flabbergasted by all of this.
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean."
"Be more specific. By the way, don't you have a game to watch?"
"How did you end up like this?" he ignored my last question, "A housekeeper...in Hunter's Chase...it's all really confusing. What happened?"
I pursed my lips thinly in defense when I was no longer potent enough to hold up the wall around me.
"I failed." I blundered.
Shawn stared at me wordlessly for a while. I was shocked by my answer too and turned away from him to the dawning twilight.
"Failed at what..." he jaunted over my eyes questionably.
I wished then that I could take my words back, but it was too late.
Swallowing with difficulty, I focused on the chipping enamel of my Nails.
"Life."
Truths would eventually start coming to light like they were doing. Like Shawn always used to tell me, 'You could hide and buy ground but you can't hide and walk it'. It was one of those make Bajan proverbs that he used to hit me with and expect me to figure them out on my own.
"What about Flagstone?"
"What about it?"
"What happened to ya'lls house?"
"It's still there."
"So why stay in Hunter's Chase when you have a home to go to?"
"I don't have the money to put up with it." I truly didn't. I was behind on so many utility bills that they'd been cut off. The backyard needed grooming. It was just a nightmare and I didn't even know where to start when it came to working on it.
"You don't have money..."
I nodded at Shawn's confused expression.
"Did you go to college?"
"I flanked out." I hedged
The shock on Shawn's face was as clear as pure water. I knew that my explanations were nebulous and nearly worthless because they were only modified truths of what was truly deep within.
"And your husband? Why isn't he helping you out?" his eyes were on the arm of my chair as he asked me that. I couldn't read his expression, but his voice was tight though.
"He's not my husband anymore, so he has no obligation to."
The consternation on Shawn was priceless. He seemed stumped.
"What about your parent's life insurance policy?" he was obviously still trying to make some sense out of all this.
The day I told anyone what I used that money for would be the day that I died. In my attempt to get over the pain, I spent money left, right, and center like it was going out of style. Most of the extravagant things ended up in collection. The remainder of the money I used to appease my drug habits.
What had surprised me though was that the money wasn't as much as I'd suspected. When my mother told me that my father had gone overboard with the finances of my wedding to Lee, I had underestimated her.
I didn't know how to answer Shawn without telling him of the phase in my life that cost me my dignitiy. Drugs was something that I even had a problem admitting that I'd done to myself, much less to anyone else.
"My bad. It ain' my place to question you like that. It's just really hard to understand."
"Why try to understand things that should mean nothing to you?" I asked him upon impulse and wished then and there that I could cut off my snapping tongue.
An uneasy quiet fell over us like the nightfall that had arrived. I wondered why he opted to talk to me instead of watching a game that I knew would be far more entertaining and far less depressing. Shawn had never had cable when we were younger so he didn't get to watch the games like he'd wanted to. And even if he had all the satellites in the world, Shawn was always working, only coming home to give him enough time to check up on his siblings, do his homework, and go get some rest before repeating the cycle the next day.
As I stared at him looking at the darkly painted sky, I longed to touch his face, straddle him the way I used to whenever we sat on the steps beside his apartment, and kiss him all over his face, reminding him over and over how beautiful he was to me even if he didn't believe it...
"What about you Shawn?" I found myself asking, "Fill me in. What have you been up to these past few years?"
"Nothing really." He answered with a modest shrug and I twisted my lips disbelievingly.
"Whatever..."
He chuckled softly and looked up at me under the brim of his lowly fitted hat. I liked the way it partially shielded his eyes
"What you say that for?" Shawn asked with the faintest of smiles.
"I know you've been up to a lot."
"Yeah, I been busy." He finally capitulated, fingering something on his can.
"Doing what?" I found myself asking, slipping into a timeless zone, and for an anon moment feeling like I was teleported many years back. It must have been the way he was dressed that made me feel so comfortable, so familiar with not only him, but also myself. It must have been that indolent smirk he always wore whenever trying to be modest and quell his miraculous achievements.
I didn't feel all the way comfortable, but I was getting there.
"Well I got my degree in business management and I'm in the middle of getting my masters. But for now I'm working in Ojay's dad's real estate corporation while going to school."
Just like my parents, education had always been important to Shawn despite all the people that said he would never amount to anything. He usually ended up attacking these disbelievers by wowing people with his intelligence without having to verbalize his frustrations at their judgments-at least not all the time.
Shawn was a silent fighter. That's how he got retribution, through actions.
Very rarely through words, but when he did use words, they were as harsh and painful as a blow to the head.
"Shawn?"
"Yeah."
"I'm proud of you." I told him quietly and he lifted his eyes to mine.
We stared at each other for a quiet moment, and I felt that tightening in my throat that I always felt whenever I had this need to hold him.
"I've always been proud of you." I told him earnestly. It had nothing to do with the career he held now, or what kind of car he drove, or what type of house he lived in.
His strength was something that most people didn't have. People were gifted in so many ways, and one of Shawn's greatest gifts was that he was a strong individual who progressed through life fighting through things that most people would be defeated by.
For a long time, Shawn said nothing. I waited for him to get up and leave, but he didn't.
"Thanks. Means a lot."
I wanted to say so much more. I wanted to apologize for how things happened between us. I wanted us to talk about it, but I was afraid. I didn't want a repeat of last time. I could see on his face that he was wary of the arguments and so was I.
I was too afraid to bring up a topic that might spark off another one.
"You shouldn't have to stay in a place like Hunter's Chase Beyonce." He spoke with his head bowed, focusing on whatever tinkering he did on the can.
"It's the only place that will accept me with the salary I'm earning right now."
"But it's not safe."
"I know that. But it's all that I can afford right now."
It was kind of strange to me how he made it sound like leaving there was so easy. He should've known how hard it was in actuality. He didn't respond to me and I was fine with that. Nobody really ever knew what to say.
Shawn suddenly got up from where he seated and I knew then that he was going back.
"Beyonce?"
Hearing him say my name made my gut feel weird. It felt like his fingers reached up to it and stroked it gently.
I tilted my head back to see him. The porch light illuminated a warm glow on his handsome face.
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry for how I reacted that day you came over. I shouldn't have said some of the things that I did..."
Unblinkingly, I stared at Shawn in shock.
"It's okay. You don't have to apologize." I assured him even though I felt a strange at ease within me.
After a long silence, he left, making his heavy footsteps shake the patio until I heard the opening of the front door.
Suddenly, I stood up and stopped his departing figure with my voice.
"Shawn."
He turned to face me with highly raised brows.
"If I told you that I was sorry for everything that happened, for all that I did to you...would you forgive me?"
Only Lord knows why I asked him such a question. And the look on Shawn's face was asking me why I'd asked him that too.
For a long time, Shawn stood perfectly still, his hand on the doorknob and the other holding his beer. He didn't respond to me and I knew then that I'd made a huge mistake.
"Sorry I asked." I apologized, shifting uncomfortably and drying my damp hands against my hips. Shawn acknowledged the movement, before returning back to my face but taking his time making the trip there.
"Nah," he finally spoke and started moving into the house, never once taking his eyes off of me "...It's coo..."
He tore his eyes away from mine and shielded himself from me by closing the door behind him.
I was left wondering whether his last words were in regard to my apology for asking, or my apology for building him up, only to turn his life upside down.