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?”

Relapse

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 “We always believe our first love is our last, and our last love our first”- George John Whyte- Melville

 I thought about what I would do if I ever got a chance to see Quincy again every single day. I wanted to look amazing so he would remember what he had, and be in a position where the sight of him wouldn’t make me lose all of my gross motor skills. However, today I didn’t look my best. My hair had an uneven poof thing happening because of the quick shower I took this morning. He has seen me in this suit at least fifty times, and I was wearing flats which made me look stumpy in my opinion. To make things worse, I was sure that the candy binge that I went on after he left me added at least five pounds to my body.   

 Quincy and his wife were walking towards me, and I tried my best not to look as awkward as I felt. This was the first time I ever saw Janet, and she was glowing. She had one of those faces that was so pretty that it felt uncomfortable to look at because you couldn’t avoid staring. She made me feel incredibly plain. She had to be at least 5ft 7in tall with a slim yet curvy frame. Her naturally wavy shoulder length hair flowed as she walked like she had a fan blowing on her.  For a second we locked eyes and she smiled liked she was greeting the paparazzi. I would pay a large amount of money for the confidence she had at that moment.

 Her self assured bubble seemed to extend to Quincy because he was beaming, smiling from ear to ear and gave head nods to all the men in the office who showed their approval of the woman on his arm. I assessed both Quincy and Janet as a couple and I realized that I wasn’t jealous, I was pissed. How dare he come in here with this woman to our meeting? Was he trying to make a bold statement that he was taken?

 My boss walked out into the hallway right before I was about to extend my hand to welcome Quincy back.

 “Quincy!”  James greeted him with a huge man hug and hand shake combo. “We missed you around here”

 “It’s great to be back” Quincy answered.

 “And who is this gorgeous woman?”

 “I’m Mrs. Janet Staton” Janet announced before Quincy could chime in.

 Quincy looked at her adoringly. I felt my stomach lurch and without a word I ran to the nearest restroom. I felt like I was throwing up my insides. When Quincy left I had the same physical reaction, I referred to it as “pouring my heart out”. I don’t think there is much left of my heart so this had to be my guts. To add insult to injury I was in the male restroom standing over a urinal.

 I heard the door open and then someone handed me a tissue. I looked up to see Quincy staring at me. He hadn’t looked at me upon his entry into the office. I wanted to see at least a hint of remorse in his eyes while we were in front of my office. Now he was looking at me like he just felt sorry for me instead of feeling sorry for what he did. I ignored the tissue he was holding out towards me and headed for the sink. My stomach didn’t feel stable but I had to get away. I finally built up the nerve to look at myself in the mirror, but before I could study myself I was pulled in by Quincy’s gaze.

 “Are you okay?” he asked.

 “We have a meeting to get to” I said as I struggled to look away and leave the wretched male restroom.

 The crowd outside of the bathroom was unexpected. I didn’t think that so many people noticed my indiscretion. I gave nods to onlookers to signal that I was okay but the crowd did not disperse. I quickly understood that they were not worried about me at all when Quincy stepped out and everyone started talking at once asking for autographs and attempting to make him remember them.

 I pushed passed the crowd to get myself together in my office. Janet and James were still standing there probably engaged in meaningless small talk. Without looking at them I stepped into my office and tried to get myself together. I popped two Altoids in my mouth and reapplied my lip gloss.

 “When they’re ready please bring Mr. and Mrs. Satan… I mean Staton to the conference room” I stated over the intercom to my assistant.

 “They’re on their way” my assistant replied shortly after.

 “I can do this. I can do this” I repeated to myself as I made my way to the meeting.

 The air was unbalanced as I entered the room. I could feel the heat radiating from Quincy and Janet as they snuggled together and the ice from James as he gave me a warning look to remind me not to mess things up.

 I put my business cap on, trying to suppress all of the emotions I was feeling. We reviewed the segment for tomorrow’s show in detail. I made it through the meeting without reaching across the table and smacking Janet every time she interjected her unsolicited opinion, and without crumbling every time Quincy and I made eye contact.

 I thought I was home free, and I was looking forward to going back to my apartment and healing my emotional wounds until Quincy announced that he wanted to visit his old show tonight as a surprise guest. James thought it was brilliant. I agreed until it was decided that I would be his chaperone and producer for old times’ sake.  

 I walked into the studio that night looking ten times better than this morning. My naturally auburn curls looked more defined and my outfit was so new you could still smell Bloomingdales all over it. They say you don’t ever get a second chance to make a first impression but I was sure that the way I looked could erase the memory of any man.

 The new host of the Quiet Storm introduced Quincy and the calls started to roll in.

 “Welcome back QT” the caller said. “I’m in a situation where my ex says he wants me back but I don’t know if I can trust him.”

 “Sometimes men make stupid mistakes, and we don’t realize it until it’s too late.” Quincy looked directly at me as he finished his response to the caller. “Trust is a hard thing to earn but your heart wants what it wants. Can you find it in your heart to forgive his mistakes? Do you believe that your love is strong enough to work beyond the pain he caused to start over?”

 Thankfully he only played two sets and stayed long enough to plug his appearance on the morning show. I didn’t think I could last another second in that room. Even with the glass between us the tension was overwhelming. As Quincy said his goodbyes I rushed out of the studio, passed the offices, into the lobby and frantically pressed the elevator button. I didn’t run fast enough because Quincy was right behind me in seconds.  

 “Nice speech” I said feeling cornered.  

 “It wasn’t a speech it was an apology.”

 “Why now? You left me with no explanation. You didn’t reach out to me once. You moved on and started a new life with someone else and I’m just supposed to forgive you?” I was embarrassed at how much I let slip out. I was determined to not show how much I cared.  

 “My life has not been the same this past year Zora. I didn’t reach out to you because I know we can’t just be friends and that’s all I could offer you at the time. There were no words to explain the way I was feeling and why it felt like the right thing to do at the time.”

 “You said it all that night on the radio. I get it. You love her, so go back to your happy home. I’ll see you on TV.”

 “Zora I can’t deny that I love her, but I never stopped loving you.”

 “Quincy, you made your choice. To you love is just a four letter word.”

 “So is hate” he said looking defeated. “Do you hate me Zora?”

 “I do Quincy” I said trying to glare at him with as much hateful feelings as I could muster up.

 “But you love me more.”

 I couldn’t answer him. My eyes welled up and he started to wipe away the fallen tears from my cheeks.

 “I’m sorry Zora. I need you in my life. Please take me back” he said between the staggered kisses he planted on my face.

 “Please Zora” he begged.

 My hands started to shake, and I could feel the sweat start to form on my forehead. I felt myself falling. My insides screamed begging for me to give in. I started to imagine a life together in detail. His divorce, our engagement, our wedding, our kids, our anniversary celebrations, our grandkids, our matching plots. My mind became consumed with the possibilities. I was no longer aware of our surroundings. His scent circled me, making me feel like I was floating as my body reacted and I stood on my toes to kiss him back.

 A rush of satisfaction traveled through my veins. The edge I was feeling from the moment I saw him this morning was starting to relax. My breathing was erratic. My mind was clouded. I was high.  

 Later as we lay in bed together I felt safe again. I felt like the missing part of my heart was now reattached. We were the way we used to be before I knew that I was not the only woman in his life. I had to live with the realization that Janet was always there and that the moments he didn’t spend with me were spent with her. Now he was stealing moments to be with me. I wondered if I was always the other woman. If I was always plan “B”.

I knew he was married but I felt like this time would be different. I started thinking about what would happen from this point on. Would he go home and tell her that the speech he made the night he proposed to her was not meant for her? That he had temporary lapse of judgment? I remembered the last song he ever dedicated to me. The lyrics to Ms. Badu’s song started to play in my head.

 First time that I saw you boy
It was a warm and sunny day
All I know is I wanted you
I really hoped you looked my way
When you smiled at me
So warm and sweet
I could not speak
You make me feel like a little bitty girl
What do you do to me

 I looked in his direction to see him gazing at me intensely. He told me I looked beautiful and played with my hair by twisting my short curls around his fingers. This scene was like déjà vu except I could recall exactly where this happened before. This moment was the exact scene in my nightmare. This time however instead of my alarm waking me up, Quincy’s cell phone chimed in his coat pocket across the room. I held him tight begging him with my eyes not to get it. He looked at me apologetically and explained that it might be his manager.

 Without looking at his caller ID screen he flipped open the phone and was met with a piercing scream I could hear all the way across the room. I knew that scream.

 ”What’s wrong honey?” Quincy asked while turning his back to me and facing the window.

“Are you sure?” he said

 I could see his reflection in the window and his worried expression started to transform.

 ”I’m on my way” he said excitedly. “This is crazy…yeah I love you too. I’ll see you in a little while. “

 He didn’t move from the window. There was a silence that stretched for what seemed like an eternity. Both of our hearts were beating loudly. His was really fast like he just ran a marathon. My heart seemed to be slowing down like the last few heartbeats before someone dies. Slowly.  Dramatically. Loudly. So loud that I didn’t hear when Quincy started talking. I didn’t notice that he was already fully dressed. I didn’t feel it when he gave me a soft kiss on my forehead.

 He blew out the candle on my side table and walked towards my bedroom door. I unconsciously sat up. I desperately called his name.  I was begging him to stay with my eyes because I couldn’t fight against the lump in my throat to utter a full sentence.

He stopped, and for a second I thought he changed his mind. He walked back towards the bed and put his hand on my cheek. I flinched as I felt the cold metal from his wedding ring make contact with my skin.

 ”I’m going to be a father Zora and I can’t do this to my unborn child. I can’t let him grow up without a mom and dad. This is bigger than both us”

 He left and I could feel my heart rip again except this time he left his piece at my doorway.

Quiet Storm

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Lying in his arms I felt like there was no one else in this world but us. In my world he was the only person that mattered. He looked in my eyes and told me how beautiful I was, and played with my hair by twisting my short curls around his fingers. He looked into my eyes, took a deep breath and said “Will you marry me Janet?” I knew from the first time I saw him that he would be my husband. A rush of emotions took over me. Before I could answer him I was beginning to fantasize about telling this story to all my friends and family. I ran his words over in my head again “Will you marry me Janet?” Then it hit me. My name is Zora!

The alarm went off at exactly 3:30am. I am not a morning person. Anytime before the sun comes up hardly qualifies as morning to me. However, I was grateful to wake up from that nightmare. I hit the snooze button trying to get fifteen more minutes of sleep while hoping that I wouldn’t slip back into that dream. The alarm went off again, and I reluctantly opened my eyes, stared up at the ceiling, and begun going over the choices I made that landed me in my current situation. I rolled over onto the cold empty side of my bed to grab my phone and scrolled through the emails I received overnight. It was all junk ads for magazines and sales being advertised at my favorite stores.

I struggled to make it to the bathroom to start my new morning routine when my phone made a ding sound that meant I had a new text message. It was in all caps from my fellow producer at the radio station I work for asking me where I was. I looked at the time on my phone to see that it was 5:00am. I started to panic because the morning show started in one hour, the staff meeting was scheduled to start in ten minutes, and I lived forty five minutes away from the radio station. I sent her a text begging her to cover the meeting for me and ensured her I would be there in time for the show.

 I rummaged through my cramped apartment on Mott Street in Soho or Chinatown depending on who you asked. I found my most comfortable shoes because I was in for a good run to the train station if I had any chance on making it before the show started I jumped in and out of the shower, barely dried myself off before I got dressed in a freshly pressed pant suit from the back of my closet. Within minutes I was out of the door.

I got to the radio station five minutes before the show was scheduled to begin. The morning host gave me a look from the side of his eye. I ignored him, took my seat on the other side of the glass in the studio and began my countdown for the show.

The four hour show went smoothly. When it was over, I ran into my boss in the hallway and he expectedly called me into his office for a little chat.

“I know this shift will take some time getting used to, but you are an executive producer now” he said.

He put an emphasis on the word executive because at our station it meant I graduated from being a glorified gopher to being someone with real responsibilities. I couldn’t argue with him about my less than stellar showing this morning so I just shook my head in agreement and started to walk out of the door. Before I could close it behind me my boss called me back inside. I knew I wasn’t going to get off that easy.

 “One more thing” he said, “Quincy will be a guest on the show tomorrow to talk about the release of his new late night TV talk show. I need you to be on top of your game”.

I just stood there eyes wide and mouth open. Hearing that name made me want to throw up and do back flips all at the same time. Quincy Staton used to be the Quiet Storm host at my station. I met him as an eager intern. Many interns didn’t last on his shift because of the late hours and the lack of newly released hip hop and pop songs. I was always a night owl and I had a vast appreciation for the old school slow jams and mellow R&B music.

I quickly rearranged my expression as I realized my boss was staring at me. I ensured him that I would do everything in my power to make Mr. Staton’s return to his roots a comfortable and rewarding one. As soon as I made it to my office I started to hyperventilate. When he moved to Philadelphia for another job opportunity, I didn’t think that I would have to see him ever again or least for a couple of years. This man stomped all over my heart and insisted on taking it with him when he left. I became nothing more than a hollow broken shell with trust issues to add on to my pile of relationship debris.

 Quincy hosted the Quiet Storm show for almost five years before I started working there. I stayed up listening to his voice every night. He always knew the right music to play. He answered calls in between the music and commercial breaks helping woman all over New York with their relationship questions. He seemed so compassionate, genuine, and honest. I often listened to him and wondered when I would get a chance to meet someone like him. Then I did.

On my first night at the radio station I was assigned to shadow the producer for the Quiet Storm. He walked me around helping me to get familiar with everything and introduced me to the lingering staff members who were preparing for the next day or on their way out. We walked down a narrow hallway decorated with plaques and posters and stopped at a black door at the end of the corridor. The red light on top cast an ominous glow on its surroundings. As the producer opened the door he held his finger to his mouth signaling for me to be quiet as we entered the room. It was dark with the only source of light being the candles that were scattered all over the room. The host had his back turned to us but I recognized his voice.

“Welcome back to the Quiet Storm. You are on the air with QT. What is your question?”

“Hi QT, I was just wondering what will it take for me to find a good man?” the caller said in a sultry tone.

“Well it depends on what you consider to be a good man, and if that ideal man would view you as a good woman.”

 The caller started to describe herself including her height, measurements, and eye color. I was starting to be reminded of those cheesy late night 1-900 commercials advertising women who are willing to talk to men about their fantasies. She went on to include her education level and skills in the kitchen.

“Ok, well if what you are saying is true, then I do not know what the problem is. You sound too good to be true to me. I know men including myself who have carried a list with all of the characteristics you described.” Quincy responded as if he were taken back by the information he was hearing. He ended the call on a flirtatious note. “If I catch you in the street then all of your problems will be solved. Thank you for calling.”

Quincy announced that he would be back after a short commercial break, and whipped his chair around to acknowledge the existence of me and the producer who was showing me around. I unconsciously started clapping in a slow exaggerated way. Quincy laughed and then started bowing as if acknowledging an adoring crown after an amazing performance. I laughed back.

“I see we have a new face in the office Terry” Quincy said to my tour guide.

 “This is Zora McNeil, she will be interning during your show.”

 Quincy reached out and kissed my hand.

 “A simple handshake would have sufficed” I said trying to seem unmoved by his forward gesture.

“Wow, can a man greet a pretty lady these days anymore?” Quincy said as he started to back away.

Terry just stood between us watching the exchange.

 “Do you flirt with every pretty face you meet” I said.

“No, but since you landed this internship I assume you have brains as well. I’m not ashamed to admit that I have a weak spot for a pretty face and a sharp mind. It’s kind of my ‘big butt and a smile’ kryptonite.”

I was hooked at that moment. The voice I listened to for years at home was standing in front of me as handsome as ever with the perfect six foot lean frame with the almond eyes, milk chocolate skin, and a set of dimples so deep I could eat out of to match.

The commercials were wrapping up and Quincy promptly took his seat and returned to hosting his show. Terry ushered me out of the room. As soon as the door closed behind us he turned to me and said, “Don’t pay attention to Quincy he’s like that with all the ladies”.

We finished the tour and I went to my new cubicle to get settled in. The show was playing over the loud speaker system in the office. While filling out the last of my new employee paperwork I listened to the rest of Quincy’s show.

 “Thank you for listening to the Quiet Storm tonight with QT. I would like to end this show with an old school favorite. Have you ever met someone for the first time and felt a connection that couldn’t be explained? Here is “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” by Roberta Flack. I’m signing off.”

 I remembered the song from my childhood. My parents would spend every Friday night listening to romantic records and dancing in the living room. I closed my eyes and started to sway back and forth to the song. When it was over I started to pack my things and said goodnight to Terry.

I walked out of the station into the grand lobby with high ceilings lined with chandeliers. Every step I took on the granite floors bounced off of the walls creating a loud echo. I pushed the elevator button as more loud footsteps seemed to be coming near me. I turned to see Quincy walking towards the elevator. When he reached the elevator door he pressed the button again. New Yorkers have no patience.

“Hello again” he said.

I gave him a coy smile and replied “Hello, the show went well”.

He smiled back and nodded in agreement as we both stepped into the elevator. We didn’t speak as we descended ten floors. When the doors opened at the ground floor he looked at me and said “thanks for the inspiration tonight” and started humming the Roberta Flack song he closed his show with.

I stood there looking dumbfounded until the elevator doors closed and it started the climb back up to the tenth floor where another employee must have pressed the button.

 That night was the beginning of a two year relationship that we kept a secret due to the professional boundaries we were crossing. During the time that passed my internship ended and I was hired as Terry’s assistant producer. On a night where a blizzard shut the city down I had a chance to fill in for Terry and was promoted to lead producer of the Quiet Storm show.

Many of the callers flirted with Quincy after he gave them advice. He flirted back but I thought nothing of it because it was part of the job. He played the role of the charming bachelor well. Quincy and I found every opportunity to be together when we thought no one was looking. Outside of the office I practically moved into his condo. He spent many nights on his show playing love songs along with other songs with sexual innuendos in the lyrics directed towards me and he spent almost everyday playing out the lyrics to those songs with me at his place.

I knew from the first moment I saw him that we were meant to be together and I was feeling ready to take the next step. I knew I was in for a bit of a waiting game because he felt that at 24 years old I wasn’t ready to make those kinds of decisions. He was only seven years older than me, and I was convinced that he was just putting off his stereotypical male commitment issues on me.

We were getting ready for another show on Valentines Day, and I was silently anticipating Quincy’s play list because I knew we would throw in a few songs dedicated to me. He went through his routine of setting up his candles around the room. As he dimmed the lights I started the countdown for the show. Through out the night he played some of our favorites while taking only dedications from callers to their significant others. Before his last commercial break he told the listeners he had a life changing announcement he had to make, and that he had something he wanted to say to a very special listener. We never discussed this in our pre-show meeting. He always referred to me as his special listener, and I anxiously started to think about what he might want to say.

 “Welcome back to the Quiet Storm” he started. “My announcement goes out to a very special lady in my life. I have thought I was in love many times before, but this time I know it’s for real. I would like to take this opportunity to ask Ms. Janet Elizabeth Turner to be my wife”. He then proceeded to cue the song “Let’s Get Married” by Jagged Edge.

 I stood on the other side of the glass in the studio completely lost. I felt like I was having an outer body experience. My assistant tapped me several times to bring me back into this world but I just stood there unmoved. Quincy didn’t look at me once while the song played. As the song phased out my assistant cued Quincy to pick up a call.

Before Quincy could answer, the caller screamed and squealed out an over the top “YES!” She continued in a more relaxed tone but still too enthusiastic for my taste. “I can’t believe this. I love you so much. Yes Yes Yes!!” she screamed.

“I love you too, Janet I’ll see you when I get home”  he said with more passion than I ever heard from in the last two years.

I felt my knees start to buckle as I realized that I recognized the voice of the woman who Quincy was now engaged to. She was the same woman who called in on the night we met inquiring about finding a good man.

“Listeners I have one more announcement to make. I have been offered another opportunity in Philadelphia and tonight will be my last show. We have had some amazing nights together, and I will truly miss you. Always remember and try to understand that sometimes in order to find love you have to get your heart broken and break a few hearts. This final song goes out to my last love.”

 He cued “Next Lifetime” by Erykah Badu, blew out the candles in the studio and left without looking back.

 There was something that this woman had that made him decide to settle down. Something that neither I nor the countless women he was probably with while seeing me didn’t have. The realization of this sent me into a state of confusion and depression deeper than I have ever experienced. I always took break ups hard. My remedy was always to just move on to the next guy who had the ability to make me forget the last one. After months of looking for my next relationship I was still waking up from dreams of Quincy, where all I could truly remember was that he took my breath away. Those dreams were always so real. I would literally wake up not being able to breathe. I knew that there could be no closure in this scenario because there was nothing he could say to make me forget and let go completely.

 I took some time off from work because I couldn’t stand to be there knowing that every inch of the place held a memory of our stolen moments. I used the time to reflect on what made him so special that I could be so crippled by his absence. Being a complete A-Type personality I made my lists comparing him to other guys I’ve dated and to the kind of man I ultimately wanted to marry. We had a lot in common which made him irresistible to me but no man has ever put me through so much pain, and that fact should have been an easy deal breaker but it wasn’t. I concluded that it wasn’t that I loved him more than any other past relationship but that I was broken and somehow found my self in a place where I had this constant need to be loved a certain way. I was addicted to the feeling that I got from being loved. I was addicted to the stability and monogamous factors of a relationship. I was addicted to the chase and being chased. I was addicted to love period. I couldn’t deny that the love he gave me was like its own potent brand of the substance.

One year later as soon as there was an opening available I applied and then became the new executive producer for the station’s morning show. Showing up to do a show that held so much history for me was not healthy for me at all.

I was brought back to my current reality by a buzz from my assistant.

 “Ms. McNeil, the front desk called to let you know that Mr. Staton is on his way up.”

I was not expecting him until tomorrow. I knew I looked a wreck due to me rushing out of my apartment this morning. I gave myself a quick look in the full length mirror that stood slanted on my wall and put on some lip gloss so I can look somewhat presentable. I had not seen Quincy since the night he walked out of the studio. The only contact we had was a box sent to my apartment with all of the items I left at his place.

 As I watched him walk into the studio with his newly wed wife in tow the urge to be loved by him again hit me like a championship boxer. All of the night sweats and withdrawals were forgotten. All I knew at that moment was that I needed him badly. I needed my next hit.