Moments of Clarity (16 page)

“Have you met his family?” Dominique asked.

“Sexton was adopted.”

Both her sisters were quiet as they digested this information. Sasha added, “But the people who raised him sound as if they were clones of our parents. They died a while go and he has a brother, but as yet I haven't met him.”

“When am I going to meet Sexton?” Dominique demanded.

“Never!” Sasha responded emphatically.

“Oh, come on, Sasha!” Desiree said cajolingly. “Bring him around. I liked him the time I met him at Tiara's party.”

At the sound of Tiara's name a look of annoyance crossed Sasha's face and Dominique said, “Why did you look like that the minute Tiara's name was mentioned? I thought Tiara was your girl.”

“
Was
my girl is the correct term. She has too many issues. Ever since she and her husband separated, she's been a different person.”

“They're separated already! I guess it's true. Marry in haste, repent in leisure,” Dominique said.

“She didn't really know him. He tried to pick up a police officer in that undercover prostitute sting operation.”

“My God!” Desiree said. “How humiliating!”

“Oh,” Dominique drawled the word, “she's probably suffering from self-esteem issues just like that girl in the play who was going with that married man. I know I would be if I were in her shoes.”

“She's acting like she has something to prove. She's become needy and sort of demanding, as well as a bit of a troublemaker. I've decided to distance myself from her until she can regroup.” Then even more noticeable irritation crept into Sasha's voice. “Tiara gets angry over little or nothing. When I told her that I wasn't interested in dating her brother Calvin she copped the worst attitude.”

“Clearly she has issues,” Dominique said with understanding, “But under the circumstances, I think that's to be expected.”

Desiree gave Sasha a long, probing look. “Tiara is trying to get you to go out with her brother?”

“Yes. Calvin's fine and all that, but he's Sexton's best friend. How tacky is that!” It was a statement and not a question.

Dominique held her hand out for emphasis. “I know. Never do relatives or associates. Men always tell at least one friend if he's having good sex with his woman.”

Desiree was quietly mulling over what she had heard and said, “You're right to distance yourself from Tiara. You need to drop her like she's a bad habit. She doesn't have your best interests at heart.”

Sasha and Dominique stared at Desiree because it was so unlike her to be so adamant when giving advice to someone, but before Sasha could question her further Dominique demanded, “When am I going to meet this stud?”

“Never!”

Desiree chimed in. “Come on, Sasha. You brought Abdul to meet us after seeing him for only a couple of weeks.”

Sasha cocked her head in Dominique's direction. “I was just trying to aggravate her. I don't feel that way about Sexton.”

Just then, Sasha's cell phone rang as if on cue. She looked at the number and said to her sisters, “Saved by Ma Bell.”

“Hey baby.” Sasha's voice became a lot sexier than it had been before.

Dominique muttered to Desiree, making sure that Sasha could hear her, “She'll answer for him, but when we were trying to call her before the play, her phone went straight to voice mail.”

Desiree smiled and nodded in agreement.

“We're having late night coffee. Not too much longer. That's okay. I'll drive over to your place when I'm done.”

Dominique leaned across the table and snatched the cell phone out of Sasha's hand.

“This is Sasha's oldest sister, Dominique,” she spoke with authority.

“What the hell?” Sasha exclaimed as she held her hands out helplessly and looked at Desiree, whose answer was to simply shrug her shoulders and give her a look that said, ‘What do you want me to do?'

“I'm inviting you and Sasha over to lunch at my place next Sunday. Good! So you're free! How about one o'clock? Great! I look forward to meeting you.” Dominique closed the cell phone, handed it to Sasha and said in a conspiratorial whisper to Desiree, totally ignoring Sasha's presence, “He said he can't wait.”

Sasha shook her head with resignation and signaled to the waitress that she was ready for the check. “Did you ever stop to think that I might already have plans?”

“Do you?” Dominique asked teasingly.

“Yes, with Sexton.” Sasha stressed each word.

“Fantastic. That means my luncheon will fit right in with your plans since you'll be bringing him.” She turned to Desiree, “You and Tyler come also. I'll have the twins go to my mother-in-law's. That way it'll be a grown up thing with no distractions.”

“How about Mom, Dad, and Marcus Junior? Are we going to make it a family affair?” Desiree asked.

“Not yet. I need to screen this guy first. I don't want to get their hopes up unless Sasha's finally managed to find marriage material.”

Sasha waved her hand in front of their faces. “I am sitting here, ladies, and I can hear you.”

“Do you mean to tell us that you're not going to start giving your speech about how you don't ever want to get married?” Desiree's eyes were round with speculation.

Sasha remained mute and avoided her sisters' eyes.

“My, my, my,” Dominique murmured with satisfaction. “I think the cat finally has her tongue.”

As they stood on the corner in front of Dominique's car, Desiree looked around doubtfully. “It's after midnight, and I don't want you on the subway. I'll give you a ride where you're going.”

“I don't need it.” She leaned over and planted a smacking kiss on each of her sister's cheeks. “Sexton gave me his Chrysler 300. I parked in there.” She pointed across the street to a brightly lit parking garage. “See you guys next weekend.”

As Dominique and Desiree stood watching Sasha trot happily across the street, their faces were filled with hope.

Chapter 13

A few days later, Mr. Ramirez plopped his last card down on the tray and said, “I won again. We really need to come up with another game because you haven't been able to beat me once the last six times we played.”

“Instead of complaining you need to be glad that I'm such a good sport.”

“I am glad,” Mr. Ramirez agreed. “But part of the fun in winning is if you barely do. Something on your mind?” he asked, watching her closely.

“Not really.” Sasha didn't bother to explain that she had been distracted because she was thinking about Sexton and wondering what he was doing.

“How's your young man?” he asked perceptively.

“Sexton is great!” Sasha was unaware that her tone was almost gushing.

“When's the wedding?” Mr. Ramirez asked.

“It's too soon to even think about something like that,” she protested.

“Why? How long does it take?”

“I would guess longer than eight weeks.”

“Whose rule is that?” He admonished her, “I hope that you're not reading one of those self help books that are so popular.”

“Not at all,” she denied. “But my friend Tiara's husband was hiding a dark secret about his character and they dated for almost a year before they got married.”

“That's them and not you, and certainly not that man you introduced to me. What you see is what you get when it comes to him,” he declared with forcefulness.

Sasha was happy that Mr. Ramirez had been so impressed by Sexton because she valued his opinion. “I always figured that I would first live with my future husband in order to really get to know him.”

“Don't do that,” he cautioned. “You don't want to be a rent-to-own bride.”

Sasha laughed. “You really have a way with words. You don't really believe that ‘men don't buy the cow when they can get the milk for free' adage, do you? We're practically living together anyhow. We each have our own place but we spend every night together when he's in town. Are you saying that we shouldn't spend so much time together?”

“All men are different. Practically living together and actually living together are different. Just make sure you continue to maintain different residences. Statistics show that people who live together first end up in divorce court quicker than people that don't.”

“You see, I don't get that. Why does that happen? It would seem that they should know what they were getting into.”

“I don't know. I guess that someone in the relationship was pretending to be something they weren't so they could get married. Then after they got what they wanted and the real person came out, the one that was fooled is so angry at the change, he or she wants out.”

“My goodness. You're a fountain of information on this,” Sasha said with a smile.

“I have a lot of time on my hands. Dr. Phil has become a staple of my life.” Mr. Ramirez asked abruptly, “When am I getting out of here?”

“They're going to release you at the end of the week.” She looked at her friend's downcast expression and said gently, “That's a good thing. It means that they think that you'll be okay.”

“Or it means that they've done all that they can and have decided that the state should stop footing the bill on a lost cause.”

Sasha reached over and gently covered his hand with hers. “Where will you go?”

“I'm going back to Mexico. I still know some people there. I've been gone so long maybe my ex-wife won't have a problem running into me at the market.”

“The weather would be beneficial for you,” Sasha said encouragingly. “New York winters can be hard on the bones.” She patted his hand consolingly. “Now I need to go and check on some of my other patients that don't have such a good bedside manner.”

* * *

It was Friday night, and it had been a long and tedious week at the hospital.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Sexton sat on the side of the bed, sliding his feet into the bedroom slippers that were a part of the wardrobe he left at her place.

“I don't know. Do you have anything special in mind?” There wasn't a doubt that they would be spending the evening together. Spending all of their free time together had become a habit. Sasha loved the fact that she didn't have to wait by the phone wondering if they were going to do anything fun.

“How about bowling? There's a new bowling alley that I pass on the way to your loft called Boardwalk Bowl. It looks as if it's real nice on the inside.”

“Good Lord, bowling. Can't we do something else?” she whined.

“What's the matter? Don't you know how to bowl?

“Actually I used to like to bowl a lot in college, but now,” she held out her hands to show off her perfectly manicured fingernails, “it's not as one would say, financially rewarding.”

“Stop being such a spoilsport,” he said cajolingly. “If you break one, just go and buy yourself some more.” He grinned at her.

“Ha, ha, ha, very funny, Mr. Johnson.”

“I never realized that you were such a hothouse plant,” he added. “And I must say I'm kind of surprised.”

Not wanting Sexton to think that she was superficial, she agreed to go.

Boardwalk Bowl was not the kind of bowling alley that she and her friends had gone to in the past. It had a bar with huge plasma televisions showing different sporting events and a dozen or so pool tables occupied by some serious-looking people playing as if their lives depended on it.

Sasha followed Sexton to the counter. A teenager with spiked red hair smiled and spoke to them. “How are you guys doing tonight?”

Sexton answered, “Fine. We would like to pay for three games and rent two pairs of shoes.”

“Sure, what size do you guys need?”

“I wear a size thirteen. How about you, honey?”

Sasha didn't answer at first. She wore a size ten and had always hated the fact that her feet were so large. Sexton repeated his question. “Sasha, what size do you need?”

“Size ten,” she muttered.

The teenager turned around and yelled to his coworker who was in the process of arranging shoes that had just been returned. “I need a size ten shoe in women's and a thirteen in men's.”

Sasha could have slid to the floor from embarrassment. Glancing at the couple standing behind them in line, she became even more chagrined when she realized that the couple was Asian and the woman looked as if her shoe size was about a size five.

“You guys are on lane seven.”

“Thanks.” Sasha grabbed her bowling shoes off the counter, hastily switched them with her sneakers, and stomped off, leaving Sexton to pay their bill. When Sexton joined her, he wore a huge grin and gave her a knowing look. “Gee, darling, what big feet you have.”

Sasha glared at him, seriously annoyed.

“What's the matter with you? Why so peeved, young lady?”

“Don't even try it. I don't think it's funny that you're making fun of the fact that my feet are so huge.”

“I don't get it. What's the big deal about wearing a size ten shoe? Your legs are so long, you'd look funny if they were small.” He smiled gently at her. “My feet are bigger than yours.”

“They're supposed to be. You're a man, so that's a sign of machismo.”

“Then should I be angry because my feet don't do me justice?” he asked teasingly.

Sasha, calmer now said, “I guess not.”

They were fierce competitors. Sasha lagged behind in the first game, but by the second she had found her rhythm and gave Sexton a run for his money. Between the first and second game, Sexton ordered a pitcher of beer and an order of wings. Afterword, Sasha felt bloated from the food and was relieved when the last game was finally over.

She looked at Sexton and said good naturedly, “You ought to feel satisfied, Mr. Man. You won all three games. How did you get to be such a good bowler?” she asked, swallowing the last of her beer.

“During summer camp they used to take us bowling every Friday.”

She stood up and stretched. “You owe me a massage for agreeing to this.”

“All that means is that I win twice in one day, right?” he quipped.

At home Sasha got in the shower and let the hot water pelt her. She made the temperature as hot as she could stand because her knees were already sore.

Closing her eyes, she immersed her face under the showerhead. When she opened them again, she was surprised to find the bathroom completely dark. Sexton had turned the light off and noiselessly slipped into the shower behind her. In the darkness, she could barely discern him. Like a blind woman, Sasha reached out to him and slid her hands down his body, stopping her journey to clench his manhood and pull him closer.

Sexton was holding in his hand a soft sponge and, without speaking, he poured shower gel on it. Turning her around, he began to gently massage the back of her neck with it, moving in slow, circular motions. With the other hand he fondled her. Finally he turned her around to face him and he gently entered her with his finger. She eagerly spread her legs to give him full access.

Sasha was on fire, and it wasn't from the heat of the shower. She started to move towards the showerhead to rinse herself off and hurry Sexton to bed, but he pulled her close. Now he began to suck her nipples and she ached in frustration, wanting to feel him inside her. She threw her head back and moaned.

Slowly, Sexton got on his knees and began to tease her with his tongue. Something started building in her and she tried to stamp it down but she couldn't. When Sasha felt her release coming, she braced herself against the shower wall, afraid that the force of her climax would make her slip and fall.

Sensing this, Sexton stood and pulled her to him. His arms enveloped her in a way that made her feel as if he were shielding her from all future worries and pain. He squeezed her body tightly, held her close to him for a minute, and then kissed her on the side of her neck.

Sasha broke free of the kiss and began to use her lips to lick every inch of Sexton's body. His nipples were as hard as rocks. She feathered kisses all over his body and her hands, wet with lather, followed the path of her lips. Then she slowly bathed him. Pressing Sexton forward under the spray, she rinsed him and when she was through, he stepped aside for her to rinse herself before she followed him out of the shower. They dried themselves quickly and went into the bedroom.

Sasha was wet with desire. When he entered her, she returned thrust for thrust. The tempo of their lovemaking was furious and after what seemed to be an eternity, they fell asleep facing each other with their arms around each other's waist.

The next morning Sasha drowsily walked into the kitchen expecting to see Sexton sitting at the table reading the morning paper, as was his habit. Surprised to find an empty apartment, she looked around and saw an envelope propped up against the coffee pot. She picked it up and opened it. She looked at the familiar scrawl and read, “I've made an appointment for you at Francine's. Go get yourself a manicure and pedicure for those unusually large feet of yours.” Shaking her head in amusement, Sasha said aloud, “I'm going to get him.”

* * *

Later that week, Sasha and Sexton were standing in front of the bathroom mirror at her apartment, getting ready to go to bed. Sasha stood at the sink in her bra and panties with Sexton towering behind her in the boxers that he had pulled on after his shower. They were brushing their teeth like two people comfortable with each other after being happily married for years.

As Sasha bent her head to spit out her toothpaste, her telephone rang. As she listened for the caller I.D. voice to identify the caller, her eyes automatically looked at the clock, noting the lateness of the hour.

When she heard St. Mary's Hospital being identified, she hurriedly crossed the room and picked up the telephone. “Hello.”

“Sasha, this is Anita from social services.”

“What's going on, Anita?” Sasha knew that it had to be important for her to get a call at home.

“It's Mr. Ramirez. We lost him about an hour ago.”

Sasha clutched her stomach and braced her hand against the headboard.

Sexton had followed Sasha out of the bathroom and stood watching her with a questioning look on his face.

“Oh no.” Tears began to slide down her face. Sexton walked into the bathroom and came out with a handful of tissues, which he handed to her.

She sat slowly down on the side of the bed. “I was just with him today.”

“We knew that he could go at any time,” Anita responded gently. “Be thankful that he went peacefully in his sleep. I knew that you had a special relationship with him and I didn't want you to come to work tomorrow morning to find his room empty. He left you a letter, but it's sealed.”

“I'll be right down,” Sasha replied dully.

“There's nothing that you can do, Sasha. His body has already been taken down to the morgue.” There was a slight hint of hesitation before she said, “I'll put the letter on your desk.” Anita advised gently, “Stay at home and get some rest. Tomorrow will be a difficult enough time for you as it is.”

Sexton sat close to Sasha as she dried her tears. He watched her grieve, feeling it best to say nothing.

That night marked the first time that Sasha and Sexton slept together without making love. Sasha clung tightly to him, so tightly he felt her fingernails digging into the skin on his shoulders. He regretted he couldn't do more for her.

The next morning when Sasha emerged from the bedroom dressed for work, Sexton pointed to a chair at the breakfast table and said, “Sit.”

Sasha obediently sat down at the table, looked at the bowl of cereal and glass of orange juice Sexton had prepared for her and said with a grimace, “I don't know why you're always trying to feed me. I could stand to lose a few pounds. Since I started seeing you my uniform is a lot tighter than it used to be.”