True Confessions (11 page)

“Hey, I’m in the lobby. Come on down, girl. I’m starving,” Taylor screamed into the phone, hanging up before I could manage more than a simple greeting.

“I’ll be right down,” I said to a dead line.

Today was Valentine’s Day, and I almost didn’t come to work. I seriously contemplated calling in sick. I didn’t feel like seeing my coworkers’ cubicles overflowing with beautiful red roses and cards, or hearing them boast about what their boyfriends or husbands were doing for them, or where they were taking them for Valentine’s Day.

It seemed everyone was in a relationship or had that special someone in their life to love them, but me. I had no one. I was all alone. Drake was history after what happened that night.

Even Taylor, who went through men like ruined and discarded stockings, had been dating this one guy on a regular basis. Regular for Taylor meant for more than a month. I have to admit, I was more than a bit jealous. Sometimes, I wished I were more like her. Taylor was outgoing, chipper, and gorgeous. I don’t think she ever met anyone who wasn’t a friend. She was the type of person who would strike up a conversation in an elevator with a complete stranger, while most of us would be staring at the ceiling or the doors and waiting for them to open. Taylor would walk off the elevator with a business card and plans to hook up later at happy hour.

After making it down to the lobby, stepping off the elevator, and glancing toward the gold and black security desk, I spotted Taylor right away. She was hard to miss. With a dress that was fierce, but not too sexy for work, she was dressed from head to toe in red. She had on red shoes (which I’m sure cost her a small fortune) with straps that enclosed her ankles.

Her long brown hair was pulled back off her face and cascaded in waves down her back. Taylor would tell you in a minute that her hair wasn’t a weave, either. Don’t even think it. Resembling a young Janet Jackson, she looked gorgeous. However, Taylor always looked great, like she just stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine or perhaps a catwalk in Paris.

The thin and very married security guard closest to her was trying to check her out without being too obvious. Taylor was too busy checking her lipstick and hair in her small compact to notice him. Yet, all the men passing by noticed her and gave admiring stares, and no doubt wished they’d be lucky enough to spend even one night with her.

After putting her compact away, she looked up and spotted me. Instantly, a huge smile spread across her face. A smile that lit up her deep dimples. Her happiness made me grin, and I momentarily forgot my situation. Taylor met me halfway and linked her left arm through my right one.

“Hey, sweetie,” she said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Is it? I wouldn’t know,” I stated glumly.

“Oh, Kennedy, come on. It’s not that bad. Today is just another day. A day for big corporations to make money off of the buying public who get caught up in yet another holiday. Next month it will be Easter.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I bet your new boyfriend, what’s his name, hooked you up.”

Taylor didn’t say anything, just continued confidently walking toward the revolving doors to the outside.

“Well?” I asked, stopping halfway out the door.

“Okay, Kennedy, I did receive some flowers. But so what?”

“Someone in the world cares about you. That’s what.”

“I care about you and so do your parents.”

“Thanks, but it’s just not the same,” I declared, walking outside.

“Well, I’m going to put a smile on that pretty face of yours if it kills me. What do you want to eat?”

“I don’t care. Food is food. I’ll go wherever you want to go.”

“See what I mean? K, you have to start making decisions. Quit being so indecisive. That’s why Drake bossed you around.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m treating you to lunch, I haven’t seen you in weeks, and here you are, acting funky. Snap out of it.”

“Well, thanks a lot. We can’t all be the charming, sexy lady in red,” I stated sarcastically.

“What am I going to do with you?” Taylor said, pretending to be disgusted.

I rolled my eyes upward. Before I could answer, Taylor was off on another tirade.

“Since you can’t decide, I’ll choose for us. Let’s walk over to Mick’s for lunch. I’ve been feening for some of their chocolate chip cheesecake. I haven’t had any in months.”

“It doesn’t matter. Sounds good to me.”

“Okay, cool. Let’s do it. Ooh, I’m so happy to see you,” she declared, squeezing me into a gentle hug, I admit I was thrilled to see her as well.

As we walked the couple of blocks up to Mick’s, Taylor was a complete chatterbox. I couldn’t help but notice the appreciative glances and outright stares that were directed our way. Whenever Taylor and I hung out, men seemed to come out of the woodwork like roaches.

As for Taylor, I couldn’t recall when she didn’t have a man she was dating, or one or two waiting in the wings. I met plenty of men, but I guess my personality spoke volumes for me. Men saw me as standoffish and I wasn’t into dating every Jamal, Brandon, and Malik who asked me out. I was looking for quality, not quantity. Taylor, on the other hand, was following her mother’s example. By the time I met her, Taylor’s mother had already gone through four husbands. That simple fact made for some deep, late-night, heartfelt conversations during our college years.

“Here we are. Crowded as usual, just as we expected,” Taylor said, opening the door for us to enter. As always, the noise level was in maximum overdrive. We had to nearly scream to hear what the other was saying.

“Table for two,” she requested to the friendly waiter dressed in black and white.

Taylor and I were in luck because we were immediately led to a booth near the kitchen, over in the corner of the busy restaurant. I didn’t have to study the menu since I had eaten at Mick’s on numerous occasions, but I pretended to check out the selections to shield myself from her scrutiny and pending questions. As I pretended to peruse the menu, I could feel her eyes on me.

“Well, friend, what’s up? Looks like you’ve lost some weight,” Taylor said, carefully looking me over.

I didn’t respond one way or the other. I knew it was only a matter of time before the fifty questions began.

“And don’t tell me nothing’s up because I know better.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but nothing is up.”

“Kennedy, I’ve been your best friend for how many years? I can sense when something is bothering you,” she said, squeezing my hand across the table. “I love you. When you hurt, I hurt.”

After hearing the sincerity in Taylor’s voice, I had to close my eyes tight because I longed to tell her everything that was wrong in my world. I wanted to inform her of my unhappiness with myself and my failed relationship with Drake. I longed for her to know of my attempted suicide and how Mother was smothering me with her unwavering love and devotion.

I ached to ask why I couldn’t find love, only sorrow, and to ask why my life wasn’t going the way I wanted it to go. I yearned to tell her how I daydreamed about finding my birth mother and asking her why she gave me up. There was so much I desperately needed to share with Taylor as she sat there with her perfect manicure, expertly lined M•A•C lips, beautifully coiffed hair. But I didn’t; I simply couldn’t.

I lied and told her half-truths because the real truth hurt too deeply. My truths weren’t pretty, and I wanted to be pretty in her eyes. I didn’t want to disappoint Taylor or take the smile from her lips. Her smile let me know that there was joy in life. It wasn’t impossible.

“Taylor, so much is going on. It would take three lunches to discuss everything and fill you in.”

“I have time. I have all the time in the world for you, K.”

“I know and I appreciate it.”

“Girl, is Drake still bothering you?”

At first I didn’t speak. I just looked ahead of me and stared at the wall.

“Well, is he?” Taylor asked impatiently.

I had to let some of my confusion out. “Not lately. But I can’t get him off my mind. I have a love-hate relationship playing out in my head and heart. I despise how he treated me, which is what caused our relationship to end; yet I still love him when I think of all the good times we shared. And, yes, Taylor, we did share many wonderful times,” I declared, staring at her and praying that she’d understand where I was coming from.

“I know, sweetie. I’m sure you did. I know you are hurting now, but there are more fish in the sea if you’d only give them a chance. Drake wasn’t the one. He wasn’t right for you. He was more like a piranha. I don’t know what happened to permanently end your relationship, but I assume you will tell me in time. I’m just glad he’s out of your life. For good.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“What can I do? What can I do to help?”

“Nothing. I just need time to see where I wanna be.”

“Take it. Take that time.”

I didn’t say anything, just looked up as our waiter approached the table with pen and pad in hand.

“Are you lovely ladies ready to order?”

Taylor answered for us. “Yes. I think we are.”

We placed our orders and settled into a comfortable silence, as friends do.

“Kennedy, you know I don’t usually get involved in your love life.”

“Since when?” I asked in astonishment.

“I want to discuss Drake. I don’t like how he treated you.”

“Here we go again.”

“Yes, here we go again. When you love someone, you just don’t treat them bad.”

“He is no longer in my life. Between you and Mother, y’all are driving me crazy over Drake Collins.”

“Well, maybe you should listen to us. Underneath all that bullshit charm and good looks, he is an arrogant, conniving, good-for-nothing, lowlife. I think he secretly hates women,” Taylor exclaimed in her usual animated way with hands and hair flying all over the place.

“You really don’t like him, do you?” I asked with a genuine smile on my face.

“No, I don’t and I don’t feel that you…” Taylor stopped mid-sentence when she realized I was making fun of her.

We laughed for a good two minutes.

For the remainder of lunch, my mood soared. It was good to be back in Taylor’s presence. Her aura was so positive and full of intoxicating energy. She was perfect for her role as an account executive over at Coca-Cola. I needed to bask in her presence so that some of her upbeat energy would rub off on me.

“Are we still going away in June?” Taylor asked out of the blue.

“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it. Maybe.”

“What do you mean maybe? You can’t break with tradition.”

“Well, yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m going.”

“Oh, oh. And we have to go shopping for swimwear.”

“I’ll wear my suit from last year.”

“No. We have to pick out something new and sexy. Something that will make the men fall out their lounge chairs with their tongues dragging on the ground.”

“Maybe I don’t want them falling out of their chairs over me.”

“K, you are no fun. That’s the thrill—to see how stupid and juvenile they act just to see a little ass and cleavage.”

“That’s your idea of fun?”

“Yes. I’m seriously thinking about writing a book called
1001 Stupid Men Tricks
. I’ve seen enough dumb shit at the clubs to fill up two books.

“I wouldn’t have enough material for a quarter of a book.”

“K, you’ve got to get out more and be more observant. You’ve never noticed how you can simply bat your long eyelashes, toss your hair a couple of times, look at men with those big innocent eyes you have, and they are at your beck and call.”

“No, I haven’t noticed.”

“See what I mean? Jamaica, here we come. Girl, I heard that those island men have the biggest dicks. Something about the weather there.”

“Girl, you are so stupid,” I said, exploding into laughter again.

“What? What did I say?” Taylor asked with confusion on her face.

“Something about the weather. What kind of theory is that?”

“Yeah, the weather and their diet grow them longer and thicker than U.S. men. K, I’m serious. I saw that on a documentary or somewhere.”

“Yeah, right. Do you realize how ridiculous you sound?”

“Seriously, it was Public Broadcast TV. They wouldn’t lie.”

Taylor and I looked at each other and went into another round of uncontrollable giggles. Taylor was laughing so hard that she had to reach for her water and take a sip when she started choking.

For as long as I could remember, Taylor and I always went away the second week in June. It was a tradition we started right after college. We would do the girl thing, pack our swimsuits and sunscreen and head off for a wonderful week full of fun and sun. We would always re-bond during those times and I would realize all over again what a true and real friend Taylor was. I knew she could say the same about me. We had some really deep conversations during those times and, of course, we’d party.

Our waiter brought our meals and drinks to the table and went to greet new customers seated at his other stations.

“Sweetie, how’s your salad?” Taylor asked, digging into her lunch with gusto. “It’s good.”

“Well, you’re not eating like it’s good. You are barely touching your food. We’ve got to get those pounds back on you.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Men don’t like twigs. A sistah got to have some meat for a brotha to hold on to.”

“Yes, Mother. I hear you, Mother.”

Taylor gave me this look like she wanted to say something but then stopped. Just like she knew me well, I knew her too.

“What? Spit it out. I know that look anywhere. Say what’s on your mind. You always do.”

“Okay, as much as I love your mother, when is she going home? I know she means well, but don’t you miss your independence?”

“Soon, she’s leaving soon.” I hoped that was the case. Mother still didn’t trust me living alone. She didn’t verbally express this, but I knew.

“Hell, your flu symptoms are gone. Tell Mommy Dearest she has gots to go. Hit the road.”

We looked at each other and within seconds fell out laughing again. Mommy Dearest was Taylor’s pet name for my mother. Of course, she didn’t say it to her face, but Taylor coined it back in college. Even though it came from the movie with the same name, I didn’t get offended by it. We both knew that Mother’s intentions were well meant even if they were annoying at times.