“She really doesn’t have a reason to be. She’s a beautiful, secure woman.”
Just as he said that, his phone rang again. Gina said, “I’m not so sure about that.”
He looked at his phone and for the first time I noticed some discomfort in his face. He seemed slightly apologetic as he scooted his chair back and slid a fifty from his wallet.
“Alright, y’all. Wifey is a little impatient tonight. We’ll definitely have to do this again.”
Tammy said, “Wifey better act like she know and get her ass up here.”
He pointed at her, stood up, and said, “Exactly.”
Just seconds after he said his good-byes and left the restaurant, I said, “Y’all hookers are so crazy.”
Tammy said, “How you gonna just send your husband to a new state alone with all of us up here?”
We burst out laughing. I said, “But y’all didn’t have to say anything.”
Andrea said, “If you haven’t noticed, we have two recovering adulterers right here.” She was referring to Tammy and me. “So if she knows like I know, she better get here and get here fast.”
I said, “Exactly. I’m an adulterer, not a mistress. There is a difference. I have fun with married men and then send them home to their wives and I never have to deal with them again. I don’t want to do that with a man I work with. Plus, he’s not even cute enough to take the risk.”
“You’re not normal anyway. But from the average woman’s perspective, he’s a black man working a damn good job,” Gina said.
Tammy nodded. “He has nice eyes.”
“I can’t take y’all nowhere,” I said, shaking my head.
I felt slightly bad that I’d brought Dwight out and obviously got him in some hot water, but my girls were right. His wife
should
be here.
When I got to work the next morning, I felt as if I’d inadvertently welcomed Dwight into my private world and I wasn’t sure how he perceived me anymore. As I eased by his office, he called my name. I continued to walk, while responding, “I’ll be back when I get my coffee.”
After getting settled and checking e-mail, I returned, holding the cup handle tightly and aimlessly stirring my coffee. I said, “Hey, what’s up?”
“Do you really think you’ll be okay if I go to Jacksonville this weekend?”
My ego and I tussled for a moment. Had he really come to trust me or was his sudden change of heart due to his wife’s lack of trust in him? I hesitated. “It depends . . .”
“On what?”
I sipped my coffee before I said something silly. When I looked up, he raised his eyebrow. “I’m waiting . . .”
“Well, yesterday, you couldn’t imagine leaving this all in my hands. Now, today, you wonder if I’ll be okay without you,” I said.
“What?”
“What happened between seven last night and nine this morning that finally convinced you that I can handle this all by myself?”
“C’mon now.”
“No . . . I don’t think it will be okay for you to go, because if something goes wrong, you’re not blaming me.”
“So, you don’t think I trust you?”
I laughed. “Do you think you trust me?”
“I trust you and I’m going home. I know you can handle it,” he said.
“But I didn’t say that I was comfortable.”
He shook his head and looked in my eyes. “I know you got it.”
“Whatever.”
I strolled to my desk, tripping about how powerful a woman is when her man loves her. He had concluded that he wasn’t going home and he probably could have gotten away with it had he answered his phone last night.
Around noon, Dwight came over to my desk while I was in the middle of editing the PowerPoint presentation. He peeped over my shoulder and said, “Already thirty pages, huh?”
Sensing a little cynicism, I decided not to respond. He patted his fist into the palm of his hand. “Uh, don’t you think you keep the client’s interest longer when you shorten it up? You know they . . .”
I spun around in my chair. “You know, Dwight, you’re welcome to do this. Either you’re putting it in my hands or I can wash my hands of it and you can stay here and get it done.”
He laughed hysterically. “I love it.”
“Love what?”
“I love your fire. You just . . .”
He paused, and the wrinkles in my forehead disappeared as I suddenly became flattered. “Whatever, Dwight. Don’t try to wow me.”
“I’m not trying to wow you.” He used his fingers as quotes.
“You are. I can’t take this—either you trust me or you don’t.”
He sighed. “I feel you.”
That sounded real personal. We both nodded to acknowledge there was something else going on.
“Look, Dwight. Go home to your wife and kids. If I need you, I’ll call you. And because you’re a control freak, I’ll send you the presentation to critique before I do the final printout.”
“How many times do I have to say that I trust you?”
“Until I feel it.”
There was a moment of discomfort, and Desiree stepped into the opening of my cubicle. Our eyes darted in her direction. She assumed that she’d startled us as she raised her arms in a defenseless fashion.
“I’m sorry.” She looked at me. “I just wanted to know if you still wanted to go to lunch.”
Unconsciously, I looked at Dwight. He nodded. “Go ahead. I’m sure you’ll have everything done by Monday.”
I turned to save the document before I stood. “You have a safe trip home and I’ll hit you if I need to clear anything up.”
It was around four o’clock when I yearned to speak to Dwight. I’d spent the past three weeks proving my independence. At the same time, I’d inadvertently grown dependent on him. I picked up the phone. Then I put it down.
Don’t call this man while he’s headed home to see his family
. I knew he had a layover, but I didn’t know where, when, or for how long. Why couldn’t I shake the feeling that this was somehow inappropriate even though I knew it was all about work?
In the midst of rationalizing the situation, I said,
“Hey . . . Dwight.”
“What’s up?”
I really didn’t have a concrete question. Well, actually I did. Where did the desperate need to hear his voice come from?
“Ah . . . are you in Jacksonville yet?”
“Nah, I’m in Charlotte. I had to fly standby ’cause I canceled that flight at the last minute. You a’ight up there?”
“Yeah, I just wanted to know what you consider a short presentation. I have like ninety pages now. And I . . .”
“I’m sure it will be fine. You’re doing the presentation and you talk a little faster than me, so it’ll be cool.”
“You’re right.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“What’s with the reluctance?”
I laughed off the accusation. “It’s not reluctance. It’s just that I know how you are.”
“You keep asking me to trust you. Do
you
trust you?”
“What?”
He laughed. “I’m just saying, sweetie. I trust you, but I’m sensing that you’re not comfortable with this and I just don’t know why.”
Maybe my lack of trust had very little to do with work and more to do with this sudden vulnerability for my new boss. “Dwight, I don’t know. I’m just used to doing what I want to do with no one to critique it and I just really respect your opinion and it’s important to me that you are satisfied with my work.” His silence made me nervous. I asked, “Are you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m just trippin’. On the real, I’m proud of you.”
I frowned at the phone. “Proud of me?”
“Yeah, man.”
Man?
“Black women are the worst power-trippers in the game. You just made me change my opinion. Y’all not all the same.”
“What do you mean?”
“Man, y’all are a black man’s worst enemy. God forbid you’re up for the same promotion that he is.”
He laughed, but I was wavering between offense and success. I didn’t like his assessment of us, but I was proud of his assessment of me. Still, I had to stand up for my girls. “No. History has taught us that we have to fight for ourselves. We never had the chance to sit in our little carriages and be protected from the rain. We’ve always been on the grind, neck and neck with our men.”
“You got a point. But y’all need to learn how to respect men. That ain’t cute. Let’s make love, not war.”
My eyes shifted. Was that a personal invitation? I quickly jumped back into the argument without pondering too much on it. “We’re not making war. We’re handling our business because we have to.”
The wall of misconceptions that initially separated us crumbled as we discussed the dynamics of relationships in our community. Although he was strong and borderline arrogant at work, he had this juvenile innocence when it came to relationships. Most of his knowledge came from books. Compared to me, he was like the pope. He was a committed husband who wanted one thing: to be with his family.
An hour into the conversation, my ear was pinned to the phone and I was holding on to his every word.
Snap out of it
. Suddenly an overwhelming need to end the conversation came over me. “Well, I actually called you to discuss this presentation. I didn’t expect to get so deep. So . . .”
“You know you didn’t call about the presentation.”
His certainty made me stutter. “I . . . I . . .”
“You just wanted to hear my voice.”
“Actually, Dwight, I wanted to know if a hundred and ten slides were too many.”
He laughed. “I told you earlier that it doesn’t matter. I trust you.”
I reluctantly ended the call with that confirmation. I gazed at the screen when I hung up and wondered what Dwight’s wife thought of him. He seemed so wise and so committed.
Tracey
D
wight has missed two weekends coming home. Once his flight was canceled, the other time he had to work the entire weekend. I’ve been upset with his neglect of his family, but I am trying to be understanding. Since he has been up there, I’ve been having an issue managing my time. All the demands of being a single parent are weighing down on me. Like this morning, we awoke at seven-forty-five and Jordan is suppose to be at school by eight-twenty. I had to take them to the drive-thru at Krispy Kreme for breakfast. And Lord knows, I didn’t have time to make lunch. My poor baby Jordan had to eat half of her friend Leah’s sandwich, so she wouldn’t go hungry. I felt terrible. I don’t know what’s slowing me up in the morning. Doing hair or getting them dressed. I’ve even tried to pull out their clothes in advance, make lunch the night before—we still walk out the door forty-five minutes late. I must admit this is hard as hell, doing everything by myself. It’s not that I don’t know how to do everything. It’s just that I feel like I shouldn’t have to.
I came into the office just to close the deal with Chanel Austin. She was running late as usual. She called my cell phone and said that she hadn’t known she needed a cashier’s check to close and she thought she could pay by cash.
“What are you doing in here?” Jeff asked.
“Closing a deal.”
“That’s great, you be working it. You want a puppy for your girls? Our lease doesn’t allow pets.”
“What kind of dog is it? I’m not really a dog person.”
“Get it for your daughters. She is a Maltese, an expensive dog, but we can’t keep her. She is real little and cute. Plus she won’t get that big. I could bring her to you.”
I told Jeff I didn’t know about the dog, but somehow he convinced me to accept the puppy. Once I saw it I couldn’t resist; she was so cute and would be a good distraction for the girls with Dad not being home. The dog had fluffy white fur and big brown eyes. I went to the pet store and bought dog food, a pink leash, a cage, and dog toys. When I picked up Jordan from dance class I surprised her with the dog.
“Thank you, Mommy,” she screamed. The dog barked a little. Jordan hugged her and gave her a kiss. Destiny was just as excited. The dog jumped up on her and licked her.
“What y’all want to name her?” I asked as we drove home.
“Can we name her Raven?”
“Okay.”
“No, I want to name her Princess.”
“How about Princess Raven.”
“Princess Raven. But now listen—you can’t tell Daddy we have a dog. It is a surprise. When he calls let’s not say anything to him.” We made a little room for Raven in the garage.
The girls were occupied with holding and petting Raven as if she were a real baby. I went into the kitchen and started dinner. I sat down at the kitchen table and then dialed Dwight. He answered then told me to hold on. I put him on speakerphone and the minute the girls heard his voice they ran into the kitchen yelling, “Daddy!” Destiny screamed into the phone, “Daddy, guess what? We got a surprise for you.”
“You weren’t supposed to tell Daddy,” Jordan said.
“Oh yeah. Daddy, never mind,” Destiny said as she passed the phone back to me.
“What surprise is Destiny talking about?” Dwight asked.
“I don’t know. They said it is a surprise, and I guess they will tell you when you come home.”
“Well, I’ll be there this weekend. I miss y’all so much.”
“I miss you, too. This is becoming a bit much,” I sighed.
“I know, I know, Trace. Did you get the pictures of the houses I sent you?”
“Yeah, I got them. But I’m not looking at any houses, because I’m not moving.”
“It wouldn’t hurt you to look. They have some really nice developments.”
“I’m not looking at any houses. Dwight, what part don’t you understand? I’ll see you tomorrow. What time does your flight get in?”
“I think like six. Tracey, when I get there, we gonna have to have a long talk.”
“Well, I’ll see you then,” I said as I ended the call.
Even with everything I was going through, I couldn’t let Dwight forget what kind of woman he had at home. We had only two days together out of the week and I wanted to make the most of them. I dropped the girls off at Mama Dee’s and went and got a manicure, pedicure, and my hair done. I thought I had enough time to get everything done, but I didn’t. My polish wasn’t dry, but I had to risk a smudge because Dwight was already waiting at the airport. He had called three times already, asking how long before I got there. I lied and told him two minutes, but I was still at least twenty minutes away.
When I arrived at the airport, there were taxis and shuttles moving in and out of the lanes. I drove slow and looked for Dwight where he said he was waiting. I spotted him and beeped the horn twice to get his attention. He picked up his luggage and walked over to the car.