Close Encounters (17 page)

Lee reached for his door and opened it. “Yeah, I do.”

He came around to Carol’s side and held her door open as she climbed out. He retrieved her tote bag from the back and escorted her to the entrance of the building. She faced him as he handed the bag to her.

“Still want to see me?” he asked.

Carol felt disoriented by the question. She shrugged. “It’s not really important.”

“Why don’t we try again tomorrow?” he suggested. “What’s your schedule?”

“Well… I… I only have one class, in the early morning. And a doctor’s appointment for a follow-up visit, but that should only take an hour.”

“Good. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He gave her arm a light squeeze. “You’ll be okay from here?”

“Sure. I’ll be fine.”

Lee nodded and headed back to his car.

By the time Carol entered her building lobby the unmarked car had pulled away, moving swiftly down the block and out of sight. Only then did she experience a sensation of settling back down to earth.

“Hey… you awake yet?”

“Hmmm?”

“I made breakfast. I thought you’d like to have it in bed today.”

Carol could smell the coffee and bacon and toast before she opened her eyes.

Behind her lids, her fading dream suddenly became a reconstruction of a scene around the family dining table when she was growing up. Her mother calmly serving huge amounts of food to three children while her father, equally calm, tried to get everyone’s attention so he could say grace. Wesley poring over some book or other, oblivious to the early-morning chaos around him. Her sister, Ann, only six months younger than herself, wanting to know if she could get her ears pierced like her friends. To which their mother had responded, perhaps when she turned fifteen—another five years away. Ann then reminded their mother that Carol had pierced ears, eliciting the patient response that that had happened before God sent her to the family.

Of course, there was herself. A colorful patch in this crazy quilt of a family. Sitting sullen and quiet as usual, absorbed in her own thoughts. Silently wishing that she had light brown hair like Wesley, or gray eyes like Ann. There was no way for her to appreciate what was unique and special about herself, because it only made her different from everyone else.

“Come on, get up. The food is getting cold.”

Carol let the memories drain out of her. Matt stood above her, poised with a tray.

He wore boxer shorts and an unbuttoned shirt. She’d always thought Matt had a beautiful body, athletic and brown and smooth. But he’d also always been slender, which gave the impression that he wasn’t very strong.

“All right, give me a minute,” Carol muttered, pulling herself to an upright position. She struggled to arrange the pillows behind her back, ignoring the slight tenderness of nerves and muscles in her chest and side.

Matt placed the tray over her lap and climbed onto the bed next to her. She quickly grabbed the coffee mug and the orange juice glass before they toppled over.

“Thank you.” Carol glanced sideways at him. “What’s the occasion?”

He shrugged, making himself at home. “Why does there have to be a reason? I’m here to take care of you.”

Carol inhaled the rich breakfast scents. “I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t sound very grateful. This is lovely, Matt.”

He took a strip of crisp bacon from her plate. “Doesn’t this bring back memories? It’s not like I’ve never cooked you anything before, or never served it in bed…”

Carol moved the food around with her fork. “Usually when you wanted me to do something for you,” she said softly. She glanced quickly at him. He was thoughtfully chewing on the piece of bacon and didn’t meet her gaze. He took a second strip from her plate. “What is it?” she asked.

Matt looked more annoyed than hurt. “Why do you have to be so suspicious? Don’t you trust me?”

“I’m not sure. Depends. How come you’re up so early to cook for me? I thought you had a gig last night.”

“I did. And I think you said you have a morning class.”

“And a doctor’s appointment. And I have to do some research at the American Indian Museum downtown.” She nibbled a slice of toast. “I went to bed late. I… couldn’t sleep, so I did some work.” She didn’t tell him that the reason she couldn’t sleep was because she was replaying the conversation she’d had with Lee Grafton.

“Yeah, I saw your sketchbook. Who’s the man in the drawing?”

“I was just fooling around,” she murmured evasively. She finished the toast and sat back against the pillows to sip the hot coffee, blowing across the top to cool it off. “How come you’re up?”

Matt shifted toward her and proceeded to eat the rest of the food on her plate. “I had things to do today.”

“What kind of things?”

“Appointments. People to call.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Sure. What makes you think it’s not?” he asked defensively.

“Why are you getting so worked up?” Carol asked calmly. “It was a fair question.”

“I’m okay. Don’t worry.” He looked thoughtfully at her. “I don’t remember that you used to worry about me.”

“No? What did I do?”

His mouth twisted into a crooked smile. “Scream and cuss me out. The man you married was not the man you wanted,” he observed.

Carol accepted his comment. “The woman you divorced wasn’t the one you thought you’d married, either.”

His dreads moved gently as he talked. He had always been unself-conscious, totally at ease with who and what he was. But he also lacked the drive to make the most of his abilities. He seemed content to drift haphazardly in and out of opportunities that could have established him as an important musician. To Carol it was a benign passivity. Matt waited for the big break to come to him, rather than working hard to create it for himself.

Matthew gazed at her. “I miss you, you know.”

Her smile was sad, but Carol said nothing. Matthew got comfortable on the bed and reached an arm around her, encouraging her to lie against him. She did so without hesitation. This, too, was familiar. The sweet, loving thing that she remembered. Carol closed her eyes.

It didn’t feel the same anymore.

Carol wasn’t sure what to say to him. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. She didn’t want to lash out at him, as she knew she had done in the past. She frowned at the memory of the person she had been then.

Matt reached out carefully to touch the gauze patch that covered the healing wound on her chest. His fingertips were gentle as he explored the skin around the pad. “How does it feel?”

“Still tender and sore. Itchy.”

His fingers broadened their exploration in small, stimulating circles. Carol lay still, watching Matt’s face as he began a coaxing foreplay. She was not unmoved by the teasing sensations he evoked in her, but she was determined not to repeat that night of several weeks ago. It had been right that night. Now it wasn’t.

“We can’t go back, Matthew,” Carol said quietly.

“I know. I just needed to say what I’m feeling.”

“Anyway… you’re not going to tell me you don’t have women all over you.”

“No, I can’t say that,” he replied. Resigned, he stopped stroking her and settled back. “But I haven’t loved anybody else since you. Not the same way.”

“Matt, I…” Carol began. Her phone rang.

“Chill out. I’m not going to propose again,” he said as he picked up the cordless on Carol’s nightstand and passed it to her.

Carol took the unit. She continued cuddling next to Matt, comfortable with the closeness.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Lee.”

“Hi,” Carol responded with instant enthusiasm. She glanced surreptitiously at Matt to see if he could detect her interest. “How did it go last night?”

“Not bad,” Lee answered. “The situation was contained pretty quickly. No one hurt,” he added.

Carol recognized the afterthought. Perhaps Lee was reassuring her that use of excessive force was not always the first response when he was involved.

She conjured up an image of him and wondered where he was. She was suddenly very conscious of her position in Matt’s arms, which gave her the peculiar notion that she was being unfaithful. She tried to sit up, and Matt removed his arm to make it easier for her.

“That’s good,” she murmured.

“Are we still on for today?”

“Yes,” Carol answered. She watched as Matt got up and took the tray to the kitchen.

“How about this afternoon?” Lee suggested. “Around one or so, if that’s okay.”

“I’ll be here.”

“Good. See you then.”

“Thanks. ’Bye.”

Carol hung up. She contemplated the nervous tension that gripped her like a warning, telling her that she was headed into unknown territory. Yet equally strong was a compelling need to act on her curiosity about Lee. She recalled Wesley’s opinion of the police. He’d painted a horrific picture of how they would plot to protect their own. But what was it they thought they had to protect themselves from? Carol wondered. It was a siege mentality that she had not detected in Lee. She didn’t know if that was because he didn’t have it, or because he only wanted her to think he didn’t.

It was also beginning to feel bizarre to continue to speak about what had happened as “that morning.” As if it was set apart from the rest of her life. A unique ending or a compelling starting point. Carol was sure now that Lee had been just as strongly affected as she had been.

“I gotta go out in a little while,” Matthew announced, returning to the bedroom.

“Do you? I could use your help with a few things.”

“Is this where you make me pay for my keep?”

“Sort of. Breakfast in bed was sweet, Matt, but… you really haven’t been around all that much.”

“But what would you have done without me?” Matt asked, sitting on the edge of the bed next to her.

“I would have managed somehow. Don’t misunderstand me. I… appreciate that you were willing to be here, but—”

He lifted his shoulders in resignation. “You’re reminding me I was the one who screwed up before, aren’t you?”

Carol caught a glimpse of the Matthew who had captured her attention, won her trust, and then broken her heart.

“Let’s not go into this again,” Carol said with a hint of annoyance in her tone. “I can make a list as long as my arm of the stuff I did wrong. Bottom line? It’s over. I don’t think the reasons matter much anymore.”

“We could have made it work,” Matthew insisted.

“I don’t think so. I wanted things from you you couldn’t give me. You needed me in the same way.”

Matt glared at her in disbelief. “It sounds like you’re saying you didn’t love me.”

She sighed in exasperation and got off the bed. “I’m saying that love wasn’t enough. We married for the wrong reasons. And we didn’t break up because you messed around with some groupie at a club or I was unforgiving and too demanding. I’m sorry, Matt, but I’m glad it ended before we had a house, a car, money, or kids.”

“I sure tried to make the last part happen.”

She shook her head. “I made sure it didn’t. We weren’t ready for that.”

She headed for her closet to select clothing for the day, anxious to end the conversation. It made her feel restless to be having it out with Matt, knowing that Lee was coming to see her later. “Are you working tonight?” she asked. “I should come and hear you play.”

“Yeah. We’ll have to set that up.”

Carol followed his movements as he, too, got dressed. It was almost like old times, the way they fell right back into sharing space together, getting things done and getting along. But it was exactly that sense of déjà vu that confirmed for Carol that the past could not be recaptured, and it couldn’t be changed.

When Matt was dressed he went to take the garbage to the basement. He returned with the daily paper.

“You’d better take a look at this,” he said, opening the paper to a specific article.

Carol took a cursory glance, her stomach doing a somersault at the headline. She shook her head.

“I don’t want to read it.”

“They don’t even mention their part in what happened,” Matt said. “You can’t trust the cops. Lying-ass sons of bitches. Always trying to blame someone else for their mistakes. You could make them tell the truth.”

“The truth?
Which
truth?” Carol asked. “That won’t change the fact that I’ve been shot. Or that my dog is dead.”

He dropped the paper on a chair in disgust. “You know what they say about the truth. It can set you free. Hell… right now it could make you rich.”

Carol reflected that Matt’s need to wreak revenge on the police seemed to have less to do with her than with his own point of view as a black man. He’d never had any trouble with the law, but clearly he wanted retribution for the past, present, and future victimization of black men.

“The fact that it was a black woman who was shot adds fuel to the fire,” he said.

If that was true, then Carol didn’t want to stoke the flames. Her stomach positively rebelled against the prospect of another all-out protest. She could still remember the scenes from her childhood—people facing off over who she was and where she belonged, who had the right to love and raise her… as if she was property. Her parents on one side of the issue, strangers on the other. White against black. She remembered being pulled this way and that over a matter that became more complicated than it needed to be.

She couldn’t do it again.

And yet, what was the difference between the hotbed of unrest being stirred up by the newspapers, Matt, her brother, and what she was knowingly walking into as she met with Lee Grafton again and again?

“I like something that my father taught me even more,” Carol said, reflecting on the inevitable conflict of interests. “What doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger.”

“Have you seen the papers today?” Anthony asked, dropping a copy onto the squad table.

There were three other members of the team present, but only Barbara showed an interest, grabbing the newspaper immediately. She didn’t have to ask Anthony what item he thought they would be interested in. She thumbed through until she found the column devoted to the latest story on police activity and read through the brief update. And then she read it again.