Three Rings

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“CIRCUS noun. A place where horses, ponies and elephants are permitted to see men, women and children acting the fool.” ~ Ambrose Bierce

 

 

I ignored Brent for a week after that incident in the jazz club. He left me tons of messages on my cell phone, home phone, and work phone. I received exotic packages with trinkets from countries I never dreamed of visiting. I decided to give him another chance after receiving a CD with an original song he had written called “Z”. I listened to the complex melody while I read the note that was attached.

Zora,

 I know you are still upset with me. I wrote this song because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I called it “Z” because the letter is so final, so exotic. It is the beginning of only a few words in the English language, which speaks to its exclusivity. I pursued you after we met because I could envision my final days with you. I know it seems like I forgot that for a second… but I will do anything to make it up to you… anything. Just like the alphabet I’m incomplete without my “Z”ora.  

 The letter was sweet but I wondered if the name of the girl he was with that night began with an “A” if he would have wrote her a similar note explaining how she was the beginning of the rest of his life or some other cliché metaphor.

His actions were enough to make me question the type of man he was. I found myself dissecting everything he ever said to me as well as the small gestures he made. Kissing each one of my fingers was a trademark for him because he did it to the girl in the red dress. Sending me packages could be one of his other tactics because he could obviously afford to woo women that way. His touches and kisses were losing some meaning for me but he was attentive and creative. He was either a really savvy playboy or he might actually get me to some degree. Not to mention that after a month of seeing each other regularly there was no pressure to become more seriously intimate.

However, in the end, I felt like I couldn’t completely judge him anymore for his actions because my behavior was no different than his these days. After receiving the song from Brent I decided to go down to the jazz club to accept his apology in person. The club wasn’t officially open for business yet. The band members were tuning up their instruments while the waitresses wiped down the tables. I didn’t see Brent anywhere so I had a seat at the bar to wait for him.

“Hello.” 

A deep voice came from behind me. I suppressed my smile because I didn’t want Brent to think I forgave him too easily and swung around to return his greeting. I was surprised to see Mark standing there, but strangely I was not disappointed.  I never returned his call the night that I saw Brent with that other girl. I played his short message several times trying to read between the lines. I decided it was a sweet and tempting offer that I had to say no to. I felt like his eyes were piercing me. I never noticed the gray tint in them or the slight dimple on his left cheep when he smiled. My composed business expression was fading and I was forced to look away.

“Hello.” I finally managed to answer.

“Am I making you nervous?”

I realized I was tapping my leg. It was way too fast for me to disguise it as following the beat of the song the drummer and bassist played.

“Oh no, I’m sorry. Is Brent coming in tonight?”

“He should be on his way,” he responded. His eyes narrowed causing his face to wrinkle into a slightly perplexed expression.

I nodded my head and turned back around to face the bar.

“I’ll take that as a no to my offer.”

I turned back around to face him, not really knowing how to let him down. I wanted to accept his offer. In fact since I stored his number into my cell phone it has been burning a hole in my bag.  I just wasn’t the type of girl who dated more than one guy at a time.

“Perhaps we should have this conversation elsewhere.” Mark said as he looked at the bartender who seemed engaged in our awkward exchange.

“I don’t think we have much to discuss”

“Humor me.”

I walked to the back of the club with Mark. My feet felt like they were dragging against the hardwood floor. He ushered me into the coat check area and looked to make sure no one saw us enter the room before closing the door behind him.

The air was thick. I found it hard to form the words I needed to say to let Mark know that though I was beyond flattered by his unexpected invitation to hangout, I was deciding to work out the situation with Brent.

I never got to say those words. Brent opened his mouth probably to convince me to change my mind and I kissed him. He kissed me back urgently crushing my body against the wall in the tight space. He was more aggressive than any other man I ever kissed. Soft moans escaped from my throat to match his low grunts though he was barely touching me. Hangers crashed loudly to the floor along with some scattered coat check numbers. Someone knocked on the door, which made us freeze in our entangled position.

“Is anyone in there?”

“Francine, it’s me. I thought I left my scarf in here the other night. I’ll be right out. Can you do me a favor and check the lost and found behind the bar.”

“Sure,” she answered with a hint of skepticism in her voice.

“This was a bad idea. This was a bad idea.” I started to mumble to myself trying to wrap my head around what I just did.

“Umm… I have a different opinion,” he said while biting his lip, which made me want to bite on his lip.

 I shook my head furiously to get rid of the last thought I had. I wished that time was like an Etch a Sketch so that I could shake it and erase the last few moments. It was a bad idea. I knew that my actions would lead Mark on but a small part of me did not want to let go of that invisible leash. I started to rationalize the situation, reminding myself of my original thought when I wrote down Mark’s number that night. I was competing for Brent without my knowledge, and until we decided to be exclusive I would continue to compete for him with God knows how many women who could be seeing.

There were no guarantees in love and I refused to continue to put all my energy into one person until I was assured that he was putting the same amount of energy into me. People went on dates all the time. I always limited myself and thought too far ahead into a future that wasn’t even materializing in the mind of my past partners. I didn’t know Mark at all. I had no reason to choose him other than pure attraction. Kissing Mark was an irrational move, and though I was prone to compulsive actions with men this was definitely out of my character. I liked Brent but I was definitely intrigued by Mark.

Mark waited as I tried to straighten out my thoughts. As I reached the decision to just ignore the flashing warning signs surrounding this situation my face relaxed and Mark seemed to take his first breath after we were interrupted.

“I have to go finish my sound check. Can we talk about this later?”

Unable to meet his eyes I simply nodded my head and escaped the coat check room without looking back.

A cab was parked in front of the club. Brent was unpacking his instrument and gear out of the trunk. I was reminded of my original reason for showing up to the club and felt a twinge of guilt. His face lit up when he saw me. There were no words at first. He just hugged me tightly and planted enthusiastic kisses all over my face. I didn’t have to force the smile that I was wearing. It felt good to be back in Brent’s arms.

“I told myself if you didn’t call me tonight I was coming to see you,” he said in between kisses.

“Well I’m here, and I just wanted to tell you that I loved the song.”

“Can we start over?” He pleaded.

“I think we can give it another shot.” I responded trying to appear aloof.

“No more other women, okay?”

“You don’t have to make me any promises. Let’s just see how it goes.”

Usually, the promise of an exclusive relationship would be all I needed to put everything I had into a man. But I wasn’t one hundred percent about Brent right now and there was something about Mark.

“Will you stay for the show? I was going to play the song I wrote for you.”

“No, I have a meeting at the station before my show tomorrow. We can have lunch when I leave work.”

“Okay. I am so sorry Zora. I really am. Thank you for coming down here.”

I got into the cab after Brent finished unloading. He gave me one last kiss before I told the cab driver where to take me. I saw Mark step out of the club and begin to offer Brent a hand with his equipment.

“You seem happy,” Mark said.

“I think Zora and I are back on track. I never got a chance to thank you for trying to call her for me. I appreciate that man.”

My cab pulled off before I could hear anymore of their conversation.

Later that night I was awakened by the sound of my doorbell.

“It’s later.” Mark’s voice sounded smooth over my intercom.

I pressed the buzzer and allowed him to make his way up to my apartment. I did a quick head to toe check in the full length mirror in my hallway and quickly brushed my teeth for good measure.  Seconds later he knocked on my door softly. I gestured for him to come in. He took a seat on my sofa and exhaled deeply.

“You’re still seeing Brent.” He phrased this as a statement rather than a question.

“Yes.”

“You still want to get to know me.” Another statement.

“Yes.”

“I can deal with that, as long as you are honest with me.

“Honest with you?”

Though I didn’t want him to, I thought he was coming here to tell me that he was going to step aside and try to apologize for our encounter earlier that night.

“If at any moment you want to end this you have to tell me. Brent is my friend. I know you should be off limits but I felt something earlier today. It made me think that getting to know each other is worth the risk.”

That night was the beginning of lunches with Brent and late night dinners with Mark. For weeks I went back and forth between Mark and Brent. Kissing both of them and allowing myself to go far enough without breaking my promise to myself. I vowed not to sleep with someone who wasn’t in love with me. Mark was intense and had a direct approach to everything. It was easier being around him because I didn’t feel like a liar. Though Brent and I never stated that we were in a committed relationship I felt like I was a cheater. After all Mark was his friend and band mate.

Nights at the club I watched Brent and Mark play together. Every time Brent cued the band to play “Z” Mark would signal the other bass player to take the lead while he took a break.  When they were on stage together I could feel the tension radiating off of Mark’s body.

With the holidays approaching, the time I spent with both men became more intense. I escaped to my parent’s new home in Georgia during Christmas. Both Brent and Mark made suggestions for getaways and I couldn’t choose. Brent took it in stride as he was getting used to me spending less time with him and taking his advances more lightly. He attributed it to me still needing time to trust him. Mark on the other hand looked at every turned down invitation as a win for Brent.

With my company’s annual New Years Eve party around the corner, I braced to spend the night with Brent because he inadvertently set up Gwen and Mark on a blind date for the evening. According to Brent, Mark seemed to be down a lot lately about a girl he was seeing and he thought hooking him up with Gwen would ease his stress. Mark accepted because in his mind it was a chance to be with me on New Years night.

I prepped Gwen by telling her not to get her hopes up about Mark. Of course she didn’t listen. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that I had been dating both of them. The night of the party Gwen came over to my apartment to get ready. The plan was that Brent and Mark were going to come over for a pre party and then we would head over to my office. I received hopeful glances from Gwen, adoring glances from Brent, and longing glances from Mark all night.

Seconds to midnight before the room erupted into celebratory screams. Brent leaned in to kiss me.

“My mother always said what you are doing when the New Year begins is what you’ll be doing consistently in the New Year. I don’t mind kissing you all year.”

I kissed him back. I felt the passion and sincerity of his last words. If Brent’s mother was right, and the way I felt at that moment was any indication of how I would feel all year, then this would be the year of confusion. I felt Brent’s body shift awkwardly to the left. I opened my eyes to see Mark standing there playfully punching Brent in his side.

“I’m about to head home man. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Mark, why are you leaving so early? I thought you and Gwen were hitting it off.” Brent said while landing a few playful combinations to Mark’s midsection.

I searched Mark’s eyes to see if that was true.  All I saw was the same longing look along with a hint of anger.

“She’s a nice girl. Tell her that I said I’m sorry though. I’m not feeling that well.”

Mark walked away. Brent looked confused for only a minute before returning his attention to me. He was beaming.

“There has been something I have been meaning to ask you.”

Though there were about three proposals in the room in the last fifteen minutes I knew that Brent was not headed in that direction.

“I know we haven’t talked about this Zora, but I want to be with you. I haven’t been with anyone else since that awful night in the club.”

They were the words I wanted to hear a month ago. They were the words I thought were unspoken until I saw him with someone else. But the situation was more complicated now.

“Can you excuse me for a second?” I pushed out of Brent’s embrace and headed towards the ladies room near my office.

I walked towards the woman’s rest room meant for executive employees. The bathroom was usually deserted and I needed a quiet area to clear my mind. Mark was standing at the end of the hall by the water cooler.

“I thought you were leaving.”

“I am. Don’t worry I won’t interrupt your perfect night with Brent. I always understood that I wasn’t your first choice. He gets to have you in the day and I get stolen moments in corners and coat check closets.”

“I’m here now Mark,” I said while I stood on the tips of my toes to kiss him.

“Happy…New…Year.” I managed to say while gasping for air between kisses.

Behind me I heard faint footsteps. I felt Mark’s body become stiff. He gently pushed me away fast enough for me to see Gwen turning the corner and heading back towards the party. I didn’t run after her. Instead I just ran into the ladies room.

I noticed my eyes looked tired and my makeup was smudged. Lipstick was smeared across my cheek. This vision of myself reminded me of a reoccurring dream I was having.

I was under a colorful tent with loud voices surrounding me.  My curly hair seemed to be bigger and brighter. My outfit matched the striped tent all the way down to the oversized shoes on my feet. My hand moved rhythmically. I realized I was juggling. Brent and Mark both bounced easily between one of my hands to the other. As I caught each of them they tried to grab on but I just kept throwing them up into the air. I wasn’t dreaming now but I felt like a clown in the center ring trying to juggle balls and other ridiculous items while Brent balanced on a wire on my right and Mark flew from one side to the other of the trapeze with no net on my left. One of them would eventually fall and I would stop juggling in time to catch the one I wanted.

Clef

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“Music is the medicine of the breaking heart.”  ~Leigh Hunt

It took a  few hours  to strip my apartment of every memory of Quincy. After avoiding my bed for a week I went out and ordered a new one and decided that I might as well get a fresh start and overhaul my entire space. In addition to the new bed, I purchased a living room and dining room set, accessories, and art to enhance my new environment. Boxes of pictures and trinkets he had given me now live in the city dump. Clothes he purchased for me or left behind were donated to a thrift store in a part of Brooklyn I never frequent.  I didn’t want to walk by and see memories of him in a store front window anywhere near me. It was bad enough I had to see his face plastered on the side of city buses, and billboards all over the city. I paid special attention to my music collection, getting rid of any Quincy inspired music and replaced them with a few classical CDs inspired of course by the new man in my life Brent.

I began putting away the items I kept, and came across one of my old photo albums. I rarely looked at my old pictures. Thankfully I have changed tremendously since my fashionably misguided adolescent years. I had pictures of myself from kindergarten until about eighth grade at random family events mixed in with some school pictures. I studied my expression in the photos, and I noticed that in the earlier years I was more relaxed. I smiled wider and was not afraid to be goofy. After fifth grade my smile seemed more rehearsed and my poses were more contrived. I remembered being so self conscious at that age. I rarely walked with my head up because I didn’t want to give anyone the opportunity to have a negative thought about my appearance.

I remembered comparing myself to the other girls in my class that were popular mainly because of their looks. The boys were always infatuated with them. They constantly fought over who had an actual chance at being with those girls. They ignored me of course until eighth grade. I hadn’t changed much physically but one boy took notice of me and I haven’t been without a “boyfriend” ever since. I still didn’t see myself as one of the girls the boys fought over but the fact that boys were interested in me gave me a sense of validation. There is no better feeling than having someone who is attracted to you and interested in getting to know you better. It made me feel special. I chased that feeling from that first moment in eighth grade into adulthood. As my interactions with boys grew from kiddy crushes into relationships with men, I went from just simply feeling special to feeling loved.

I felt special with Brent. Though I initially ran away from his advances on the first night that we met, I had to admit that I was drawn in by his persistence to get to know me. We went out every night since the day he showed up at my office.

On our first date he took me to a famous poetry café on the lower east side of Manhattan. The space was very intimate with wood stools and tall tables surrounding a small stage with one microphone and a single spotlight. I had only been there once when Gwen dragged me to an event where a poet she had a crush on was being featured. She knew she wouldn’t have the guts to talk to him but she was confident that she would find a man with the same characteristics in that setting. She left empty handed but I gained a respect for the art and the people who were talented enough to express their thoughts and feelings through poetry.

My second time in the café with Brent was an open mic night. There was a mixture of first time performers and the regulars. The audience gave the same amount of love and encouragement to each performer. Brent knew many of the people in the café. As they came over to the table to greet him, he would introduce me and sudden hint of recognition would cross each of their faces which meant he was talking about me.

The host stepped onto the stage encouraging the audience to give a final applause for the last poet, and then he introduced a first time performer. A woman with a honey complexion and long jet black hair approached the microphone. She didn’t look at the audience at first as she fidgeted nervously through the little spiral notebook she was holding.

When she spoke her voice was more commanding than I had expected. She immediately grabbed the audience’s attention. “This poem is untitled. I hope you like it.” She began to read.

I feel bad for saying this but:

I hate you

I thought they said love conquers all

But every time I see you

My heart breaks more

When I think of you

No happy memories come to mind

Once love had me blind

But when I regained my sight

You were no where to be found

So how do I sleep with a broken heart?

With a soft pillow to soak up the tears

And a prayer

I find it so unfair

That you were able to walk away

That you were first to have your heart mend

That you were able to quickly love

Again

I ask God for my day

When all these feelings can come to an end

When my bitter turns to sweet

And I can genuinely feel happy for you

And find a piece of it for me

But in the meantime

I still hate you

I’m sorry

From the first line of the poem I was brought back to thoughts of Quincy. I had a lot of feelings for Quincy but at this moment I absolutely hated him. I couldn’t escape the image of him because he was becoming a famous TV personality. It wasn’t fair that he got out of our relationship unscathed. It wasn’t fair that he had a warm bed to go home to every night while I had to spend a small fortune to get rid of mine. I was not happy for him and a part of me thought I could never be because his wife was living the life I thought I would have with him.

Though I had cleaned out my physical space of any recollection of him, he was always on my mind. However, Brent was starting to push Quincy out of my consciousness a little bit. When the poet finished her piece I unconsciously stood up and gave her an enthusiastic ovation. I noticed that ninety percent of the women in the room were doing the same.

When I sat down and the host was able to calm down the sudden estrogen rush of all the broken hearted women in the room, Brent reached across the table and brushed his callused hand across my cheek. He stared at me knowingly for a second, as if in that moment I had laid my baggage on the table right in front of him. There was a part in the poem that I kept repeating over and over in my mind: I ask God for my day/ When all these feelings can come to an end/ When my bitter turns to sweet. While I stared back at Brent I felt like maybe  my day was on its way.

Brent was very into the artsy New York scene as well as the underground music scene. He was the personification of his musical interests–both classic and edgy.  On our fifth date I sat in on his orchestra rehearsal and then he brought me to the nightclub he played at every weekend. He played his violin and his trumpet with so much intensity. As he played notes written by other great composers he would close is eyes and you could see the reverence on his face with  every note he played as if he was thanking those composers for existing.

Though I wasn’t very familiar with either of the styles he played I felt every note. I often got lost in the music and then I was brought back by the sudden changes in rhythm. I imagined the stories that could have inspired those songs since there were no words. The whimsical and quick rhythms reminded me of the excitement of finding love, the long stretched out notes made me think of the comfortable moments of a relationship.  Unfortunately most of these songs would take a darker turn and transition into lower keys which resembled the ending of something that seemed to have promise for a positive outcome in the beginning. As a fan of love songs where the artists just say what they mean it felt nice to interpret it on my own. I made a mental note of a small music school we passed as Brent walked me back to my apartment that night and I signed up for piano lessons the next day.

Gwen cornered me at work.

“So you have been seeing Brent almost every night for the past couple of weeks is this getting serious?” She sounded a little hurt.
“I know I haven’t been giving you a lot of details,” I answered.

“I thought we were friends, you know every detail about my love life. Why are you being so secretive?”
“I wouldn’t say I’m being secretive… just careful.  Things have been going great and I don’t want to jinx it”

“Whatever.” She tried to sound nonchalant.

“I’m serious Gwen. He seems like he could be the one.” She perked up at my admission.

“How are you so sure? Didn’t you think Quincy was ‘the one’ at one point?’

“Yes I did. Thanks for pointing that out.” I failed at hiding how annoyed I was becoming.

I decided to tell her everything. I talked about how much he loved his music and his interest in other art forms. I described the countless nights where he walked me back to my apartment without asking to come in. Each night he just kissed me softly on the lips and then kissed each one of fingers, before asking when he could see me again.

“Awww that’s so sweet.” She gushed animatedly trying to make up for her remark about Quincy.  “He seems old fashioned that’s not a quality you see in men anymore. Does he have any sensitive artsy friends for me?”

“I don’t know about setting you up with his friends but there are a bunch of artsy sensitive men at the nightclub where he performes. He has orchestra rehearsal tonight so we are not hanging out, I’ll take you there.”

“Cool I’m excited! I need to dig up my beret and all black attire,” she said making fun of the jazz club-goer stereotypes.

When we walked into the club it was in full swing. Some of the guys who played with Brent on the weekends were on stage improvising with their instruments. There wasn’t a body in the club that wasn’t moving. Though Brent wasn’t there I could feel him around me. I inhaled deeply. His personal scent was always mixed in with the energy of the club. Gwen dragged me through the club whining about being ready to mingle. She wanted to be as close to the stage as possible. I followed her mindlessly until we reached the front of the crowd. The crowd seemed to be forming into a semi circle around a couple on the dance floor who was showing off with moves that consisted of lifts and flips.

I looked up at the stage and waved at one of the bass players that Brent introduced me to the first time he brought me to the club. He winked at me, but then his face changed into a worried expression as he refocused his attention on the couple in the middle of the dance floor. I followed his eyes to the couple. The woman was tall and slender. Her arched back and pointed feet made her appear to be a professional dancer. Her partner wasn’t as coordinated but he was strong enough to support her weight as she jumped into his arms and he swung her from side to side. The song came to an end and the male dancer dipped his partner dramatically. A burst of applause came from the crowd. The woman smiled and looked around at her audience with a shy expression before nibbling on the neck of her partner. In return he kissed her intensely holding on to both sides of her face. He then grabbed her hand and kissed each finger individually.

I didn’t realize I had stopped breathing until Gwen started to shake me. At first it was playful, but it soon became urgent when I didn’t respond to her. Most of the crowd returned to their tables leaving a few stragglers and the couple who was still snuggling on the dance floor. I walked towards them as they were probably making their way to a more comfy corner. Brent’s eyes met mine and the euphoric glow he had on his face dropped into an expression that seemed to be pleading.

I turned around and walked out of the club. The sky was black with heavy gray clouds. I ran in an effort to beat the impending storm. A cab pulled up to the curb and a couple jumped out and ran in the direction of the club. I hopped in the back seat, turned off my cell phone, and gave the driver my address.

When I arrived home about thirty minutes later, my answering machine had seven messages.  Two of them were from Gwen. First she was worried, and then she was angry that I left her stranded in the club. The next four messages were from Brent. He was explaining that his rehearsal got canceled and he went down to the club where he ran into an old friend.

Beep… “Zora, I wasn’t on a date or anything…”

Beep… “Zora, please call me so we can meet up. I would rather talk about this in person.”

Beep… “Zora, it’s not like we’re exclusive…”

His last message brought me back to my first piano lesson the other day. The instructor gave me a speech about not being able to call myself a true musician until I could read music. He grabbed a stack of blank sheet music paper and put in front of me. He pointed to the first set of five horizontal lines and began his lesson.

“This is the staff,” he explained.  “The notes are played from left to right as written on the staff. The staff alone can not represent any set of notes without this.” He pointed to a symbol that resembled the letter S when written in calligraphy.

“This is called the clef. The positioning of this symbol on the far left side of the staff defines the pitch range that the song should be played in.”

I thought about the rules of reading and writing music in relation to the way Brent and his friends played. Though most of the music they played was written it seemed to be spontaneous. No matter how free spirited their music sounded, there would be no melody without a clear definition of pitch in the beginning which would set the tone of the song.

Brent said we weren’t exclusive with each other. Even though we spent almost every day together since we met and did activities that couples did together, we never clearly defined what we were. I assumed we both agreed on the pitch. I assumed we were both playing the same song.

I settled on my new couch flipping through the channels on my television. Nothing seemed interesting enough to watch. However, I stopped channel surfing when I recognized the new show of a popular singer who was looking for love by having sixteen women literally jump through hoops on this episode to prove they might be the one for him. All of these women knew this man had kissed or fondled their competition but they fought each other with all of their energy to prove they were worthy of his attention. Though I was not on the show, I felt like my life was no different. I was constantly jumping through hoops to get a man who has eyes for other women because I wanted him to notice and pick me.  The girl who decided to do the entire challenge in a bikini won. I decided I had enough and turned off the television.

My answering machine was still blinking on the other side of the room. I realized that I didn’t listen to Brent’s last message. I didn’t know if I was going to forgive him but I was becoming amused by his begging on my machine. I pressed play and braced myself for the apologies.

“Hi Zora it’s Mark, the bass player from the club. I saw you run out tonight and I was just checking to see if you were okay. I promised Brent I would call since you weren’t picking up the phone for him. Anyway, what he did was messed up. I would never hurt someone has beautiful as you. Call me… maybe we can get a cup of coffee sometime.”

I stared at the machine for a second. Was Mark asking me out? I thought about Brent and how mad he would be if I went out with his friend. Then his words: It’s not like we’re exclusive repeated in my mind. Brent made it clear that we weren’t in a committed relationship. I was tired of competing for a man’s attention. If he could see more than one person so could I.

I played Mark’s message again and wrote down his number.

Hangover

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“I was born the day you kissed me, died the day you left me, but lived for the time that you loved me” - Unknown

 He kissed my neck, and then moved to my cheek. He continued to plant kisses on my nose and my forehead. He retraced his kisses repeatedly avoiding my lips. I begged him softly “please”. He proceeded to kiss me on both corners of mouth. My lips parted waiting for him, but he continued his teasing pattern. I begged him again a little more urgently, “please”.  Quincy sat up and I opened my eyes to see him glaring down at me. The longing I was expecting to see in eyes wasn’t there. Instead of a teasing lustful smile he had a slightly menacing grin. He started to get up. I reached out to him, begging him this time with a hint of desperation in my voice “please”. He kept walking silently towards the bedroom door. I felt tears falling from my eyes and in a soft whisper in between jagged short breaths I pleaded with him again hopelessly “please”. As much as I willed my body to chase after him I couldn’t move. I felt like I had a heavy hand on my chest holding me into place. I fought with all my remaining strength against the weight. Twisting and writhing to get free.  My sobs became desperate screams “please…please…. PLEASE!!”

He was gone.

I woke up gasping for air entwined in my sheets. My eyes were damp, my throat was soar. I tried to sit up causing a sudden jolt of pain in my head. My brain felt like it was rattling against my skull with every move I made.  Walking to the bathroom felt like I was on the deck of a ship while it was sailing over some rocky waves. I held on to every piece of furniture on the way to the bathroom to keep my balance. I held my hand over my mouth anticipating the gargling upset stomach feeling and the regurgitation that would follow. I have felt this way before.  Every time my heart was broken my body would react this way. It was like a love hangover. Not like the one Ms. Diana Ross sang about in the 70’s. This could be more compared to the feeling the morning after winning a drinking game against a frat house champion.

I looked at my face in the bathroom mirror. I was unsurprised at the red and puffy eyes that stared back at me. I wasn’t shocked by the disappointment I saw in them either. I let Quincy reel me back into his web with promises of the future we almost had, before it was unexpectedly ripped away the first time. I had to accept that there would always be something or someone else in front of me in the hierarchy of his heart. I was prepared to fight against Janet, but I stood no chance against the child he was now expecting with her. I tried my best to prepare myself for the day I had ahead of me. Quincy would be at the radio station today to promote his new late night talk show. In a rush to get this day over with I quickly got ready for work while carefully avoiding my reflection.

I walked into the station lobby and took a few breaths to calm myself. I could see a crowd gathered in the area we usually held birthday parties and showers for the employees. Mimosas were being given out by my boss James. He believed that you can’t truly celebrate anything without alcohol, and since Mimosas had orange juice in them he figured they were more appropriate for our early morning parties. There were so many staff celebrations around here. I put on my plastic congratulations grin and walked into the crowd.

“What are we celebrating now?” I asked as I tapped my closest friend at the station and associate producer Gwen on the shoulder.

“You don’t want to know “she replied wiping her own plastic grin off of her face.

At that moment I saw Quincy in the middle of the huddle with his head pressed against Janet’s stomach.  His smile was wide and genuine. My headache started to get progressively worse and I felt my balance begin to wane again.

“I’m sorry you had to see this” Gwen said apologetically.

Gwen was the only one at the station who knew about my relationship with Quincy. After saving me from handing in a proposal for the show signed as a Mrs. Zora Staton we became fast friends.

I looked at Quincy showing off his undeniably beautiful wife. Conversations broke out all over the room about whether or not they would have a boy or a girl. James made Quincy agree to have a baby shower at the station. I promised myself that I would take a vacation day on the date of the shower. Thankfully the celebration died down because we had to get ready for the show. I didn’t have to put much energy into ignoring Quincy because he already was pretending that I didn’t exist, while taking his cues from my assistant during the show.

Quincy babbled on about all the celebrity guests he would be interviewing. His premiere show was going to include a performance from my favorite R&B singer of all time. However, it didn’t matter because I already made a mental note to block his show on my cable box. Quincy was effortlessly ignoring my existence but Janet stole glances at me during commercial breaks. She knew about my past relationship with her now husband. She looked at me as if she knew that I almost stole him back not too many hours before.  She didn’t look at me with disgust. She looked at me triumphantly. She smirked at me while rubbing Quincy’s shoulder with one hand and rubbing her belly with the other. I kept my eyes on the clock for the remainder of the show.

Later in my office I sat in my chair and went over every detail of the last 12 hours. He told me he missed me and that leaving me was a mistake. He made love to me with promises that things would go back to how they were. Then he left me again like nothing we had ever mattered. I didn’t care about his new family plans. My body ached for his. I couldn’t wrap my head around this new development that linked him to Janet forever and kept me out in my own lonely circle.

My assistant knocked on my door releasing me temporarily from my thoughts.

“Hey Zora, that was a great show today right?”

“Yeah, it was excellent.”

He was standing awkwardly in front of my desk with a huge calendar in his hand.

“Do you need something?” I asked impatiently wanting to get back to sulking.

“We are taking a poll of when Quincy’s baby will be born. A lot of the good dates are already taken. It’s only $10.00 per date you want to bet on” he said with an innocent smile on his face.

“I don’t have any cash on me. I’ll get back to you later” I said trying to hide the annoyance in my voice.

This Quincy thing was smacking me all over the place today. I felt like I was being punished. Seconds later there was another knock at my door. I didn’t answer, nor did I remove my face from hands to see who was knocking. Gwen walked in and patted my shoulder.

“What?” I groaned.

“Don’t do this to yourself again. He’s gone now. He and little Ms. Perfect are gone.”

“You mean Mrs. Perfect.”

“It doesn’t matter Zora.”

I looked up to spew some unkind words at Gwen for her last statement, because of course it mattered. My hopes were lifted and crushed all in one day by the man I wished to have forever with. I wanted to tell her about last night but I couldn’t make myself say the words to make her understand why Janet mattered, and why I no longer did. I saw in her expression that she meant no harm and dropped my defense.

“What’s that in your hand?” I asked while pointing to the hot pink envelope she was carrying.

“The answer to both of our problems” she replied.

I took the envelope out of her hand and pulled out a black invitation with hot pink letters on it.

Your soul mate awaits you. 8pm Sharp.

“What is this?”

“I have an exclusive invite to this party filled with eligible bachelors looking for the woman of their dreams and you are coming with me.”

“Is this one of those speed dating scams” I asked trying not to laugh. Gwen was always looking for different ways to find a man. She finally figured out that the club atmosphere was not producing any winners. She learned from my mistake about dating men at work, and the last man she met on an online dating site currently is ordered to stay at least 20 feet away from her at all times.

“It’s not a scam” she answered defensively. “These are some of New York’s most eligible bachelors. I paid $100.00 each for our tickets.”

You paid what?”

“Look, I’m friends with the promoter. He said that only the top notch men will be in attendance. You can’t make me go by myself Zora.”

“I’m not up for this Gwen. Also, if these men are so great why are they single and paying to meet women?”

“Just trust me on this. My old college roommate went to this event last year and she is married to the man she met there. If she could find a man at his thing we definitely can.”

“Who says I need a man?”

“How do you ever expect to move on from Quincy if you don’t try to meet other men?”

I knew she was right. I did need to move on. The trick would be trying to find someone to erase Quincy. If the next man that comes into my life couldn’t make me forget Quincy then he was not the one. That’s how I picked all of the men I had relationships with. My rational was simple… if I longed for my ex or found myself comparing my new guy to the old one and he lost in any category, then I concluded that what we had wasn’t strong enough and I lost interest. Love has three stages lust, attraction, and attachment. The next person I seriously date has to be better than Quincy for me to become attached.

Within seconds of my arrival to the hotel where the party was being held I received a text from Gwen telling me that she was feeling well and wouldn’t be able to make it. I immediately felt like an idiot for going along with her idea and decided I was going to leave. The women and men looked classy enough dressed in semi formal wear but it wasn’t my scene. I was really here to support Gwen.  I turned to leave when a woman holding a handful of hot pink envelopes and a clipboard approached me.

“Do you have an invitation?”

I reached into my purse and gave her the invite Gwen had given me in my office earlier.

“I’m not staying though” I said.

“The men in here are better than any of the men you’ll find out there. Our bachelors are all pre-screened and meet all of the requirements to be a suitable match. If you are serious about finding love, your best bet is to give it a try. May I have your name so I can check you in?”

“Zora McNeil” I answered.

“Ok. Zora you are number 13” she smiled and gave me a black badge with a hot pink 13 on it.

“Why do I need a number?”

“All of our participants receive numbers. This way there is no pressure to give out your name. At the end of the night if you find someone or more than one person you connect with you would let us know that bachelor’s number. If the same bachelor gave in your number then it is qualified as a match and you sign a release to give the match your name, number and email address so you can connect outside of the event if you choose.”

The process seemed simple enough. It figured I would get that number though. An unlucky number for an unlucky person. I walked over to the open bar to get a drink to calm my nerves. I couldn’t bring myself to give eye contact to any of the men in the room. Thankfully there was not much time to mingle before the woman who gave me my number got on the microphone and reviewed the rules and gestured for everyone to take a seat and get started.

There was a big digital clock in the middle of the room. It was set to fifteen minutes and started to count down. The first man to sit at my table looked like he stepped straight out of a catalog. Gorgeous cheek bones, defined chin, cropped facial hair, deep brown eyes, and an ivory white smile.

“Hi Mr. 21” I said attempting to break the ice.

“I think numbers are so impersonal. You don’t have to tell me your name if you don’t want to, but my name is Quincy.”

“Are you kidding me?” I asked aloud not focusing my question on him.

“I’m sorry did I say something wrong?” he asked looking confused and slightly scared.

I was fuming. How many Quincy’s were there in this city? The minute I try to move past him I have to meet someone with the same name. I felt like I was in a two day long practical joke. This was a sure sign that I wasn’t ready to do this.

“Hello? Ms. 13… Are you okay?” he asked trying to bring me back from my internal conversation.

“I’m sorry. What were you saying?” I asked still not really paying attention.

I knew that I would make a horrible scene if I just ran out of the room so I figured I would make an attempt to make it through the night. I didn’t have to give in any numbers of men I thought I connected with. I was sure that this guy was not going to be requesting to get to know me better. I realized I wasn’t being fair and decided to at least ask him one question about himself before I wrote him off but the buzzer went off and the clock started to count down again. He left my table without a word but gave a warning look to the next guy who decided to sit at my table.

“Hi” I said with a shy and somewhat embarrassed smile.

“Hello” he said while reaching across the table to shake my hand.

He held on to it as he started to introduce his self.

“I usually don’t do this sort of thing. I’m actually here as a favor to friend, so you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. Although as soon I saw you sitting at the bar earlier I knew that coming out here wouldn’t be a waste if I got to at least see your smile up close.”

I couldn’t tell if he was feeding me lines or if he was serious. He was a little more attractive than the last guy. With a muscular frame I could see through his corduroy navy blue blazer. His sun kissed skin had an even tone and looked soft even under the harsh lighting. He cradled my hand and started to caress my fingers. His hands didn’t feel as soft. I could feel calluses in his palm.

“Are you a carpenter?” I asked feeling silly as soon as the question left my lips.

“No,” he laughed “I play violin in the New York City Orchestra”.

“Wow… really?” I smiled.

“Yeah, this is my first year. We played a concert at Lincoln Center last night. Are you into classical music?”

“I never really gave it a chance. I have always been into R&B especially the oldies” I got a flash of Quincy and thought about how now I can’t bring myself to listen to any late night radio station without thinking about him. “I used to work for the Quiet Storm at 94.5FM but now I’m doing the morning show.”

“That’s nice. I don’t listen to the radio very often but I will now if I get to hear your voice again.”

“I’m not one of the on air personalities. I’m a behind the scenes type of girl.” I felt myself flirting and I couldn’t stop.

We seemed to gravitate towards each other. Our bodies leaned closer as the conversation continued. The buzzer went off again and I started to let go of his hand so that he can go charm some other woman. The next guy stood impatiently behind him and he waved him away.

“We’re breaking the rules” I said as I realized he had no intentions of leaving my table.

“I don’t want to move on, if that’s okay with you.”

“That’s fine”

We continued our conversation while others continued to circle the room. As the buzzer went off and each new bachelor approached my table he asked for an extension to get to know more about me. I never divulged this much information about myself after knowing someone for such a short time before. By the end of the event we realized we both grew up in the city, and knew some of the same people. His name was Brent Hathwaite. He went down south to go to college where he played trumpet in his school band by day and made extra money playing his beloved violin for weddings and other events. He now played full time with the New York City Orchestra and volunteered to teach disadvantaged youth how to play the violin on the weekends.   

He seemed too good to be true but I was happy living in the fantasy of who he presented himself to be for now. The event was coming to an end and the moderator prompted us to go to the long registration tables to give in the numbers of the people we might have connected with. I didn’t move.

“You’re not going to the table?” he asked.

“I already know your name” I replied.

“Yeah but don’t you want my other info?”

I didn’t respond.

I was nowhere near recovered from the way I was feeling this morning. This type of hangover couldn’t be fixed with coffee and rest. With the wounds from Quincy still fresh I couldn’t bring myself to take the next step.

“No Pressure” he said while reaching into his pocket and putting his business card on the table. He was still holding my hand. He lifted it to his soft full lips and kissed each of my fingers, then left the room without looking back.

As perfect as he seemed I left the card on the table and prepared to go home to scene of my last heartache.

My bed was still unmade. Glasses of wine were still sitting on my nightstand. My sheets smelled like him. He had an earthy gingery scent that always made me putty in his hands. Without thinking I started to pull the sheets off of my bed and I threw the wine bottle and glasses directly into the trash. I couldn’t get rid of everything that reminded me of him. I would have to set my apartment on fire to do that, but I was satisfied with ridding myself of any evidence that I let him back in. I slept on my couch. My bed still held the most memories. I was definitely going bed shopping this weekend.

Gwen walked into my office the next morning holding a bottle of red wine and a gift basket.

“Is this your apology for leaving me stranded last night?”

“Nope, I left a million messages apologizing last night. Are you really still mad?” she pleaded.

I ignored her question. “If that’s not your peace offering then where did you get it?”

“There was a fine delivery man in the lobby who asked me to give this to you.”

I looked inside the basket and found tickets to the New York City Orchestra, an instrumental old school R&B CD, a violin shaped box of candy and black piece of paper with a the number one in hot pink ink. The badge was the same one Brent was wearing at the speed dating event the night before.

“Zora, The delivery man is still waiting in the lobby. He says he has a personal message to give you” my assistant said over the intercom.

“Okay, send him in.”

“What is all this about?” Gwen asked.

“I’ll tell you later. Give me a second to send back this package and I’ll meet you in your office.”

I was shuffling through some papers on my desk when Gwen walked out of my office. I didn’t hear the delivery man walk in.

“Ms. McNeil?”

I looked up to see Brent standing in my office with a handful of wild flowers.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I’m not a stalker. I know this is a little strange but I really thought we connected last night. I didn’t go the event expecting to find someone I actually liked. When the night ended I knew you felt the same way but I sensed that you were holding back. I should have waited for you to call but I just had to let you know you know that I was truly interested in getting to know you better.”

“I thought you said there was no pressure”

“Zora, forgive me if this is too strong but I wanted to see you outside of that meat market we met in to show you that I was serious. I think I made my point. I put my contact information on the back of the badge I wore last night just in case you lost my card. I won’t show up at your job again or bother you any further unless you want me to. The ball is in your court.”

I nodded. He walked closer to my desk and took my hand. He kissed each finger as he did the night before. At that moment I felt my balance restore, the queasiness leave my stomach, and my headache start to disappear. I was feeling a slight relief from my hangover. This was not love but I was starting to forget. My last thought as I began to focus on Brent kissing my last finger was “Quincy who?”