When You Come to Me (15 page)

“You can’t have me,” she proclaimed through a broken voice. “You’re not over her…you can’t have me…I don’t want to be a fix for your loneliness…”

“But you’re not...Nat, I…”

“Stop it…don’t say it…you can’t have me…”

And she walked away.

“A DINNER PARTY?”

Natalie walked into Asha’s bedroom, saw her sitting on her bed, sorting through sheets of small, pink, rectangular paper. Natalie read over them a little, noticed that they were invitations and her eyebrows furrowed.

“A dinner party?” she repeated, expecting Asha to answer instantly.

“God, did anyone ever teach you that reading over people’s shoulders was rude?”

“When is this ‘dinner party’?”

Asha continued to fumble with the invitations, as if she were purposely ignoring her friend. “Hmm, let’s see, that’s fifteen invitations, dress nicely, eight o’ clock, five-course meal, come hungry, alcohol will
not
be provided…”

Natalie looked at Asha’s small wooden nightstand, and retrieved a book with a table place setting covered in confetti and votive candles on the cover, appropriately named,
So, You Want to Throw a Dinner Party?

Natalie chuckled a little bit. “A book? You actually bought a book? Asha, you don’t even buy groceries, how in the world are you going to—“

Asha slid off the bed, and headed in the direction of her living room, pinching her twenty-five invitations between her fingers, mumbling things to herself.

“What?” Asha said suddenly as they entered the living room together. “A sister can’t throw a dinner party for her friends? What, black people aren’t
classy
enough to organize a get together? Music! Something laid back, none of that crazy rap mess, something classy. And some rock music for my white guests…what do you think I should include for them?”

In the confusion, Natalie followed Asha around the living room, watching her friend point out different things, watching her accept and nix ideas left and right. In the meantime, Natalie was able to process a few things in her head…

“Asha…”

“Maybe some of that folksy stuff, that’ll go along good, won’t it? What’s the artist that all the white folks in the cafeteria are clinging to these days?”

“Asha…”

“Britney? Nah, too old…Norah Jones? Yes…
yes
…”

Asha continued walking, continued ignoring her friend, and in the process, Natalie grabbed her friend by the shoulder, and said, “Asha, who did you invite?”

“Nat, you really must learn how to relax sometimes…I have white friends, you know…”

Asha gave her friend a strange grin.

“Asha,
what
white friends?”

“Chicken! Chicken will be the main course…baked chicken!”

She followed Asha into the kitchen, watched her begin to rummage through the cabinets above the countertops.

“Asha,” Natalie said. “Are you planning on inviting Brandon?”

“Chicken and plenty of love songs…I feel like love’s going to be in the air that night…”

Asha grinned strangely again, nudged her shoulder and headed back towards the living room.

“Asha, you’re not inviting Brandon…”

“Hmm,
love
…”

“Asha, I repeat you’re
not
inviting Brandon Greene…”

Asha ran her hand along the length of one of the white couches in the living room. “Hmm, these couches will have to go…maybe they’ll be dancing…
slow
dancing…”

“Asha…”

“Oh, Lord, have mercy, Natalie Chandler! What if I was talking about Scott Kelly? And for the record, my poor black friend, it was just one kiss…you really need to learn how to relax…”

Natalie knew that she meant Brandon, considering the fact that Asha had only met Scotty once, when the four of them met up for a late night movie a couple of weeks prior. Afterwards, they returned to the house on Trent road, discovered their mutual love for underground rap, and argued why a producer made this group happen or why a rapper was weaker than the other.

“Asha, who told you about that kiss…?”

She knew the answer to the question immediately, knew that whenever either Asha or Brandon couldn’t get any information out of Natalie, they’d confide in each other. Natalie only naturally assumed that Asha pulled Brandon for information, because Natalie was clearly too afraid to say anything about what happened.

“Well, since you, one of my best girlfriends, decided that I wasn’t important enough to tell, who else was on the beach that night…by the water…the dark, dark water…?”

Asha’s teasing tone instantly brought her back to the night she stood in front of Brandon on the beach, her feelings slowly becoming harder to control, renewing all of her ardency about keeping her distance from him.

After the beach trip, she chose to ignore his phone calls. She anticipated the jest of the conversation and wanted to run in the opposite direction. Much easier than dealing with the truth, she figured. At this point, she wasn’t sure if she even missed him.

"Natalie...it's me...call me back..."

"Nat...I know you have your phone in your hand...I know you feel it vibrating...I know you see my name on the Caller ID...the missing step is you picking up the phone and answering it..."

"If I've scared you, I totally understand...but don't shut me out...we need to talk about this either way...call me back..."

Well, maybe she did just a little...

Every once in awhile, she'd writhe with discomfort. She'd feel a tingling sensation run the length of her body. A flooding gush of blood would run straight to her heart and fill it to the point where she grew dizzy from it.

A kiss like that was hard to shake.

It would take days to put her feelings into fluid, logical sections. Streamlined thinking had been tossed out the window.

She had now succumbed to noticing the little things about him: his wide, enchantingly crooked smile, the formation of his eyes when he focused on something, the silly things that they laughed about that no one else understood, his inexplicably intoxicating smell, the way the sound of any song she heard reminded her of him. Looking and thinking of him would change everything.

As if they already hadn’t.

#

Asha planned the dinner party for the Saturday before finals. The weather the week of the dinner was warm, and Natalie found herself outside more than she ever thought she would be. There was something about reading under the large oak tree outside of her dorm that brought her unexpected peace.

Brandon’s persistence had ceased that week, and it was only then that part of her missed him, that part of her wished that he was sitting next to her.

He graduated that month. Brandon Greene, part of the real world.

She felt a little pang inside of her when she thought about him leaving. Then she internally reprimanded herself for caring that much.

It was at that moment that she thought about calling him; but changed her mind.

She would let these feelings ride, let them subside gracefully, forget them eventually.

She sat under the tree on Wednesday, felt something in her pocket vibrate, and when she retrieved her cell phone, she took a deep breath.

“Hello?”

“Nat, you’re cooking, aren’t you?”

“Cooking? Asha, I don’t have time to cook…”

“Oh, Nat,
please
! All fifteen people confirmed. I need you to cook!”

“I can’t cook a five-course meal and study for finals…it’s enough that I’m even coming…”

“Nat, please…my food will be disgusting…you’re the best cook I know…”

Natalie huffed. “Asha, I don’t know…”

“Look, if you cook, I’ll…I’ll…I’ll tell Brandon that the dinner is cancelled…that way you don’t have to see him…deal?”

Natalie liked the sound of that idea. She released another heavy breath.

“Deal,” she said.

So, she arrived five hours prior to the dinner, hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, wore a slinky red bulldogs t-shirt and a pair of Sidney’s old cheerleading shorts. She’d prepared a menu prior to the Saturday, keeping in mind the traditional taste buds of people in their twenties. She brought in Asha’s stereo from her bedroom, and found herself dancing while she worked on her main course. She reveled in the fact that Brandon Greene would not be in attendance.

As the chicken baked, Natalie helped Asha move the living room furniture out and into the extra bedroom that no one lived in. She then assisted her in placing a series of cream-colored votive candles about the living room as the late afternoon sun spilled into the room. They draped a red cloth atop the dining table and Asha wrote each guests name on small white cards, and placed them on the table.

“You were serious about this, weren’t you?” Natalie asked her friend, as they placed large pillows on the hardwood floor in the living room.

Asha smiled. “Yes, Natalie…a sister’s trying to be classy…let her!”

Asha helped her friend with the appetizer and salad, and they danced to the radio, sang off-key and laughed. It was also at these moments that Natalie loved her friend, really, really loved her.

Natalie finished the dessert in perfect timing. They each had an hour to get dressed.

Natalie showered in Asha’s bathroom, ordered her friend to retrieve her dress from her car: a strapless, black chiffon number that she hated splurging on, but Asha absolutely loved on her slender frame. She accompanied slinky gold earrings with it, wore her hair in a loose chignon, which made Asha, once entering the living room with her completed look, suck in her teeth.

“How are you going to show up the hostess at her own party? It’s just not right.”

Asha helped her put the final touches on the food, helped her carry the dishes to the red-clothed table, and they lit the myriad of candles about the bare living room floor, giving the room an unmistakable golden glow. And Asha started the music.

And in moments it seemed, the guests arrived, in pairs, boy and girl. One couple brought a bottle of wine and glasses, another couple brought deep red roses.

“Asha!” one girl said who greeted her at the door. “This looks amazing! Absolutely amazing, girl…”

Natalie stood to the side, watched another three couples enter, watched them crowd into their own little circle, while one of the boys popped open a bottle of wine, and poured each person a glass, patiently waited till Asha got done greeting and conversing and receiving accolades.

And Natalie counted the guests.

Fourteen.

“Shall we eat?” Asha told her guests.

Asha guided the guests toward the table of food, and Natalie took her friends shoulder, gently pulling her aside.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the fifteenth guest?”

Asha smiled, glanced toward the door and said, “Oh, looky, he’s here.”

Natalie turned around and her heart jumped to her throat.

He wore a black blazer, partially open, revealing a black shirt underneath, and a pair of dark rinse jeans hugged his narrow hips. Natalie swallowed hard.

Ignoring him seemed to be the only conclusion she could come to.

“Aw, how cute, you guys match,” Asha said with a sly snicker, walking in the direction of the congregation of her guests.

As Brandon approached her, she folded her arms, attempted to form something clever to say in her head, and when he stopped before her, she parted her lips to speak, and then, without warning, pure surprise of course, said, “Gee, I’m hungry,” and headed toward the red-clothed table.

She followed suit moments later, having watched Brandon greet Asha, giving her a small kiss on the cheek, sharing a small laugh with her. Then they each turned and looked at Natalie, and Asha pursed her lips at her friend’s foolishness.

While the other guests sat on the floor and ate, Natalie stood on the wall, by Asha, who asked her why she hadn’t talked to Brandon, who sat by himself unperturbed on a large pillow.

“I thought you said that if I cooked, you wouldn’t invite Brandon…?"

Asha shoved a piece of chicken into her mouth to keep her from answering the question. “Mm, this chicken sure is good, Natalie,” Asha forced through a mouth full of food.

“Asha, this isn’t funny.”

Asha swallowed the remainder of the food in her mouth and said, “Oh lighten up, would you girl? One...he's your best friend and two...he hasn’t even bothered you all night…as a matter of fact, I think he’s more concerned with Jennifer Diaz right now…apparently you didn’t catch the way that he looked at her when he went to get his food…”

Natalie followed Asha’s gaze to the petite, curvaceous, light-skinned Jen, who, too, sat alone, in all of her gorgeous curly-headed Afro-Cuban glory. Natalie then looked at Brandon, who, as Asha had predicted, stared at her.

The weird feeling in her stomach returned, along with a stint of anger, and…jealousy? Was that what she felt? Of course not! She refused to allow herself to be
jealous
of the way Brandon looked at Jennifer Diaz. She was far above what her feelings were attempting to portray about her. And she refused to falter at a moment of confusion.

With a huff, Natalie went into the kitchen, dug her fingers into the countertop and attempted to occupy herself with something. She knew that she was making more noise than was necessary and huffed some more.

But her brain churned anyway.

The sooner she realized that Brandon was only a friend, the better she would feel, and the feelings would subside, and she would ignore his—oh, was it everything about him?
Natalie, quit this now!
Where’s the dessert?
Look for the dessert, girl! Stop these foolish thoughts!
But was it necessary for him to look at Jen Diaz that way?

Jesus, you think you know someone!

Surely you mean more to him than that?

How could he forget their late nights? Their laughs? Their talks? Did he realize that no one listened better than her? How could he forget that no one was more there for him than she was? How could he not see that she cared about him?

Natalie Chandler stepped toward the kitchen door, and the music changed, and she peered into the dark, votive-lit room, and saw it, just as she had predicted…