M
onday and Tuesday passed and no word from Adam. I can’t lie. I spent those two days in a deep depression. I couldn’t have been more devastated. But this morning, a new emotion began to brew inside me.
Anger.
How dare he? How dare he dump me, and not even treat me with the respect I deserve? We’ve been dating
four
years. Friends for at least ten. If he’s gotten cold feet, I can understand that, but to not talk to me at all—that’s pretty damn low.
I wish I could say I’ve been strong, but I haven’t. I’ve been weak and pathetic. I called him at least three times on Monday, and yesterday, as my panic intensified, I called him twice that amount. I’ve left him breathless, sobbing messages begging him to call me back. But still I haven’t heard from him.
It’s entirely possible he’s scared to face me. But what the fuck does he think I’m going through after his bombshell?
Groaning, I roll over onto my back. I try my best to muster the strength to get out of bed, but I can’t. I haven’t eaten in two days. I’ve got the air-conditioning cranked on high and spend most of my time under my duvet. When I wake up, I have a glass of wine and two sleeping pills, debate calling Adam, then count the moments until I fall asleep again.
I haven’t even answered the door for my mother. When she called, I told her I had the flu and was resting up for a couple days.
Honestly, should I even care if I hear from Adam again? Oh, but I do. Every moment, I wait for the phone to ring, hoping it’ll be him.
My eyes wander to the phone. I consider calling him again. But if he’s got cold feet and needs some time, any more of my blubbering messages are sure to push him away even further.
God, I can’t take this any longer. I plop one of my pillows down on the phone so I don’t have to see it.
“I can’t do this,” I utter. I can’t stay here in my bed all day like I’m waiting to die.
I’ve got to go away. A ray of hope shines on me when the idea comes to me. Yes, I’ll go away for the weekend. Somewhere close and drivable, but far enough away that it’ll feel like an escape.
Pensacola. It’s perfect.
I’ve been there before, and really enjoyed it. It’s quiet, has a great beach, some nice shops. It’ll be like I’m a million miles away from here—which is exactly what I need right now.
My limbs feel like lead as I make a concerted effort to sit up. That accomplished, I swing my feet out from under the covers and off the bed. Then I reach for the phone and dial Lishelle’s number.
“Lishelle,” I say when I get her answering service. “Sorry I haven’t called you since Sunday. I’ve been…well, I’ve been avoiding the world. I haven’t gotten out of bed. I haven’t even checked my messages. The plus—I’ve probably lost ten pounds. I’ll look really great in my dress now.” I chuckle, but the hollow sound morphs into a cry. “I’m sorry.” I fight the tears and pull myself together. “I’m trying here. I really am. But Adam hasn’t even called me…Oh, forget Adam. That’s why I’m calling. I’m ready to say ‘fuck Adam’ and show my face again. Get out of here before the walls close in on me. Let’s go to Pensacola this weekend. Leave Friday afternoon, get there by evening. I’ll rent a suite. We’ll have so much fun. Please say yes. I need you and Annelise to go with me.” My voice cracks a little. “I’m sorry. But call me back, okay? As soon as you can.”
I wait a few minutes to call Annelise. She doesn’t answer her home phone or her office phone, so I leave her a similar message. Minus the tears.
I get off the bed and drag my feet until I reach the kitchen. I open my fridge and scowl. Nothing decent there. I definitely don’t want to call for Mae, my parents’ housekeeper, who could make me something wonderful in a snap. I’m not that ready to face the world.
At least the freezer has a package of waffles. I take it out and pop two of them into the toaster.
I hope my girls will call me soon. I do need to get out of here, and I don’t want to go to Pensacola alone. If I stay here, I’ll sink further into depression. And I’ll continue to be tempted to pick up the phone and call Adam again.
I will
not
call Adam again. He has to call me. When he’s ready.
And in the meantime, I’ll be drinking margaritas on the beach. In Pensacola. With my girlfriends.
Adam wants space, I’ll give him space. So much space it’ll damn well suffocate him.
Yeah, I need to go away. And I hope to God he calls me when I’m gone. Finds that I’m not here and I’m not available to take his calls.
Let him wonder where the fuck I am and what the fuck I’m doing. Let him experience the panic—the sick, overwhelming feeling deep inside that you feel when you’re disconnected from your soul mate.
The toaster pops.
I burst into tears.
I
kick my sandals off and revel in the blast of cool air the moment I step into my brownstone. Seven-thirty at night and it’s still so damn hot outside. To make matters worse, the air-conditioning at the station was on the fritz, and I had to pretend to be cool on camera, even though my armpits were sweating.
I head straight for my kitchen, where I see my phone’s red light is blinking. My lips curl in a smile.
Glenn.
My phone display says there are five new calls. I check the numbers. Four from Glenn, one from Claudia. I lift the phone to my ear and dial the code to check my voice mail.
“Lishelle, babe,” the first message begins. “The meeting I had with the possible investor went better than I expected. I showed the guy the business proposal, and he was totally impressed. He thinks it can fly—no pun intended.” Glenn exhales hurriedly. “Now, I have to see about raising my own capital. I’ll find a way, though. Call me later. I miss you.”
I don’t listen to the rest of the messages. Instead, I dial Glenn’s home number. It’s Wednesday, and he’s home in Phoenix on Wednesdays.
He answers the phone on the first ring. “Hello?”
“That was quick. Were you expecting a call?”
“Hey, babe.” I hear a smile in his voice. “I was hoping it would be you.”
“I got your message. The meeting with the investor went well?”
“Amazingly well. But I already have better news.”
“You do?”
“Remember I told you there was another pilot friend I’d discussed this idea with—we’d talked off and on about possibly doing a joint venture?”
“Yeah.”
“Keith Hatcher, my pilot friend, talked to me on Monday. Turns out he’s already started the ball rolling on this business and wants me to join in. He’s got a definite investor lined up, and wants us to be partners.”
“Oh my God. But what about doing it on your own?”
“I’ve always known that I’d probably have to have a partner, and Keith Hatcher’s a great guy. I had a phone conference with him and his investor today and things are serious. Very serious.”
“Wow. That’s fantastic.”
“It is, but there’s only one sticking point.”
“Oh?”
“The money. My share of the money. Keith’s got a million of his own to put in, and he wants me to contribute the same. That way, we’d have a majority of the business, rather than the outside investor controlling a majority share.”
“Right. Of course.”
“It’s all happening really fast. Like the next few weeks fast. What I need to do now is find a way to come up with my share of the money. I’ve already put in a call to my bank.”
“No need,” I announce.
“Why not?”
“I have a surprise of my own, Glenn.”
“You do?”
“Uh-huh. One of Claudia’s uncles is a president of a bank here in Atlanta, and she pulled some strings to get me an appointment yesterday. He’s putting through the paperwork for a million-dollar line of credit for me to use for the business!”
“Lishelle.” Glenn’s tone sounds full of reproof. “I told you not to do that.”
“I’ve been looking for a business opportunity for a long time. Glenn, you’re going to be my husband. Why shouldn’t I invest in your company?”
He sighs. “I could definitely use the money, but I don’t feel right about this.”
“I get the checkbook tomorrow. I was going to surprise you with the news this weekend.”
“You really want to do this?”
“I do. Wait a second. This Hatcher guy—he’s okay with basing the business out of Atlanta?”
“He’s single, unattached and thinks Atlanta is a great location.”
“Then there’s no reason not to move forward with this.”
“Hey—maybe I can set up some sort of meeting with Keith this weekend, if he can arrange to be in town. You can meet him, he can tell you his vision.”
“That’d be great,” I reply. Then I remember the chat I had with Claudia at the station and the fact that we’re heading out of town this weekend. “Oh, wait, I can’t do it this weekend. I’m heading to Pensacola with Claudia and Annelise.”
“You’re going out of town? You never mentioned—”
“It came up suddenly.”
“Hmm,” Glenn says.
“What do you mean by ‘hmm’?”
“Just wondering.”
His tone is…odd. “Wondering what?”
“Well…things happened between us pretty fast. Maybe there’s another guy you were seeing…”
“You are kidding, right?”
“Hey, it’s possible. And here I am on the other side of the country. You could have a guy with you right now, slipping your panties off as we speak.”
“Glenn—”
“You can tell me, you know. If there is someone else. Even someone casual. Better now, if you’re not sure about us. I’m too old to play games.”
My mouth drops open. Why on earth is Glenn talking like this?
“Glenn,” I finally say. “I’m wearing your ring. You know there’s no one else.”
“You’re stunning. Successful. You could have a man on each street if you wanted.”
I laugh without mirth. “If you only knew.”
“You could.”
“But I don’t want just anybody.”
“So you’re not trying to avoid me this weekend?”
“No. You brought up this absurd accusation before I could tell you the whole story. Claudia needs to get away because Adam broke up with her.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“But they’re getting married in—”
“I don’t think that’s gonna happen. And as you can imagine, she’s totally devastated. She begged me and Annelise to go away with her this weekend, and I can’t say no to her. Not with what she’s going through.”
“Wow. That’s got to be rough.”
“I don’t even want to imagine what that feels like.”
“Neither do I, babe.” Glenn pauses. “Look, I’m sorry for suggesting there was someone else.”
“The important thing is that you believe me.”
“I do.” He sighs softly. “So I won’t see you at all this weekend?”
“I just asked for Friday off. I won’t be back until late Sunday night.”
“You know I want to see you. Need to see you…”
“Believe me, so do I. But I can’t. I have to be there for Claudia.”
“Hey, I got ya. I’ll see what I can do about hanging around Sunday night.”
“Just see about this business venture,” I tell him excitedly. “Making it happen. Because as soon as it does, you’ll be here most of the time. Baby, I can hardly wait.”
“It’s happening faster than we thought,” Glenn says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
I squeal, giddy. “I love you so much, baby.”
“I love you, too.” Glenn pauses, and I think he’s going to tell me that he has to run. But instead he asks, “What are you wearing?”
“Oh, you don’t want to know. I’m hot and sticky—”
“Mmm. Just the way I like you.”
“Glenn…”
“Touch yourself. Tell me how it feels. How it smells.”
“Glenn, I have to take a shower.”
“I’m hard, baby. I’m lying on my bed, I’m holding my cock and I’m thinking of how much I love it when you’ve got me deep in your mouth.”
My skin flushes as the visual image hits me.
“Tell me, baby. Tell me how you feel.”
I slip my hand beneath my skirt. “I’m wet,” I answer, moaning softly. “Sloppy wet. And my clit is swollen.”
“I wish I was there right now. I’d lick you like you were a Popsicle.”
Closing my eyes, I stagger backward until I hit the counter. “You know how much I love it when you do that.”
“I know.”
“You know what else drives me crazy? I love it when you’re on your back on my bed, and we’re in the sixty-nine position, eating each other at the same time.”
Glenn’s moan is long and loud. “Fuck, I could come right now, thinking of how sweet your pussy looks when you’re straddling my face.”
A jolt of sensation hits my nub. I move my fingers over my vagina faster, imaging Glenn’s here and stroking me.
“Are you touching yourself?”
“Yes…”
“Put your fingers inside you.”
I push three fingers into my vagina, as deep as they’ll go.
“That’s my tongue,” he rasps. “My tongue, deep inside you. I want you to come. Come in my mouth. Please…”
Glenn’s erotic words are my undoing, taking me to the edge and pushing me over. I cry out his name as I ride the wave of my orgasm.
“God, yes. Yes!” Through the phone, I hear the sound of him stroking his shaft. Wildly, the way he thrusts inside me when he starts to come.
“Holy shit, Lishelle. Holy shit.”
“I know.” I’m breathless. “You do it to me, too.”
“I wish you were here. Fuck, I need you in my bed.”
“Soon,” I tell him.
“You better believe it, babe.”
We both grow quiet as we catch our breath. I’m the first to speak. “As much as I’d love to stay on the phone with you, now I really need to go and get that shower.”
“Yeah, me, too, at this point.”
I chuckle, imagining his hand covered in semen. Then I get serious. “I do love you.”
“I know. I’ll see you this weekend.”
“Remember—”
“I know what you said, but I have to find a way to be with you. Even if it’s only for a few hours.”
“If you can make it happen—”
“I will. Trust me, I will.”
And that gives me something to look forward to. My weekly sexual healing I suddenly can’t live without.