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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?”