Stateway's Garden Page 7

  “Make yourself comfy, please,” he said, handing her a glass of wine.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Shiraz.”

  “Funny. Guys I know don’t drink Shiraz.”

  “What do they drink?”

  Solane leaned back into the beige chaise and folded her legs and began scanning the books along his shelves.

  “Can I ask you something?” she said.

  “Sure.” He grabbed his glass and sat down beside her.

  “Are you ready to be with me, only me?”

  “Yes. I can see us doing that.”

  “You said that too fast.”

  “I’ve been by myself awhile.”

  “So, you’re ready?”

  “I don’t understand. Of course I am.”

  “I like you, Will.”

  “I haven’t shown you everything.”

  “I like what I know.”

  “I don’t really know you yet either, Solane. I want to.”

  “Do you like me?”

  “Very much.” He placed the glass on the table. “But I’m worried about that. You won’t even let me pick you up on a date.”

  “All of that really doesn’t matter. Just as long as I get here.”

  William’s hand hadn’t released from the glass before he was lifting it again for another drink. He slowly moved closer to her and then placed the glass on the table. He grabbed her hands and used his thumbs to caress the insides of her palms, tracing the creases. Solane leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek.

  “I think I’m ready to be with you,” he said.

  “Please don’t tell me what you think. I need you to know.”

  “I know what I feel.”

  Solane couldn’t believe this was happening so easily. She wasn’t manipulating or conquering him; she was just used to a tougher struggle when trying to get a man to commit to something, to anything. Not only had William accepted what she asked, he looked her in the eye when he spoke. As the time continued to pass, she began feeling guilty.

  William pushed her legs apart as she sat on the couch and positioned his narrow frame between them. He quickly pressed his mouth to hers. Solane could not stop thinking of how soft his lips were. Each time William kissed her, she’d open her eyes to see his reaction. His wide face would tighten, along with his eyes, and she’d notice those eyebrows that didn’t match.

  William kissed her in routine, a formula Solane believed he’d practiced just for her. He’d start on the side of her mouth, gently, using his lips to cover the corners of hers. Then he’d kiss her cheeks and the hot sensation of his tongue would remain on her face five seconds at a time. Even while kissing he’d moan slightly, and the vibrations from his deep voice eventually landed in the warm interior of her thighs. His left hand moved toward her shoulder, then farther, and he gently grazed it against the side of her neck.

  “I’m not used to you,” she said while kissing him. “I’m not used to this.”

  William moved back and looked at her. He stared into her face like they’d just met. In his eyes Solane’s appearance changed. She had grown simpler. William assumed maybe she’d worn less makeup or that her hair was styled differently. Something was unlike before. For the first time, he judged her by features only, noticing that Solane was just a bit above average-looking. He thought that surely if her cheeks contained some beauty mark or her eyes developed a sharper slant, she’d have been stunning.

  “Are you sure you’re ready to be with me?” she asked again.

  “I’ve been alone a long time.”

  “I’m not used to you,” she replied.

  “We can stop all this if you want.”

  Solane began removing her blouse like she was about to take a shower, as if she had all the time in the world. In her mind, William was no longer there, only her flawless perception of him, of what a man could be, her idealized view of what a man should be. The night should have ended there and with that picture in her mind; she remembered thinking it should have ended right there. He was perfect in her eyes, and blind to mistakes of hers he knew nothing about. He was the good man she wished she’d known six years earlier. Even the way William was staring at her breasts at that moment didn’t bother her. That didn’t matter, she hadn’t planned on removing her bra anyway.

  There were certain particulars she just couldn’t reveal.

  William’s gentle nature scared and comforted her equally. She didn’t feel better than him, the way she did with most other men she dated. William had more money than she did, lived in an overpriced apartment on the North Side of Chicago, had no children, had never been married, so of course never divorced. Solane was used to men tearing at her body like it was a birthday gift. She even waited a couple of seconds to see if the anticipation of him entering her would cause a reaction of some kind.

  He touched the side of her waist, and pressed her figure with his in rhythm. Each time he’d reach to remove the straps of her bra, Solane promptly moved them away. William positioned himself on top of her and his moaning continued to vibrate her body.

  “I haven’t told you everything,” she said. Her breathing slowed. William opened his eyes, straightened his head, and stared at her.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “There are things I’ve been hiding.”

  “Things like what?” he said. He had a grin on his face. “Can’t be that bad. Just tell me.” William sat upright on the couch, trying not to detach from her body awkwardly.

  “You want me to tell you right now?”

  “You brought it up. Why not? Just start.”

  “Will, I have two children already,” she said. “My son is almost four.”

  “And your other child?”

  “Nine months.”

  “Nine months?” His eyes expanded. “You were just pregnant?”

  “Yes.”

  “Their father…you still with the guy?”

  “I’m not with either of them.”

  “Two different fathers…where are they?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied.

  “You don’t know where either of them are?”

  “I married my first child’s father. Did the city-hall thing. Actually almost had a baby at eighteen,” she said.

  “Almost?”

  “I took care of it.”

  William huffed loudly and cleared his throat.

  “Solane, you never told me you were married before.”

  “I know.”

  While taking another deep breath, he began picking at the skin around his nails. The glass of wine was still on the table, and William took quick, unsatisfied glances at it. There was not enough to gulp.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. “It’s been almost three months.”

  “A man like you…You could do so much better. I thought you’d leave.”

  “To go where?”

  “Guys like you only date white girls.”

  “But I don’t.”

  “I thought they’re who you’d identify with.”

  “Be fucking serious.”

  “Come on…I’m just from some project buildings on State Street.”

  “You’re from where?”

  Neither of them wanted to go any further in the conversation but each waited for a response. William was afraid to ask anything else. He didn’t know, and didn’t want to know, any other information she’d kept from him. Solane grabbed her gray blouse and adjusted her black skirt. She waited an extra moment before putting the blouse over her head, wanting to see as much of his facial expression as possible. But William’s face didn’t change. He continued staring at the skin on his left hand, staring closely as if it could force the tension to ease. He began anticipating the moment she would exit the fr
ont door. Not because he wanted her to leave but because he couldn’t think clearly with her sitting there.

  She has been married. She already has two kids.

  William never had plans for a large family and now he was put in the position of dealing with two children he was forced to accept from a woman whom he knew less than he’d previously assumed. His life was preplanned to perfection: He’d travel the world with an adoring wife; they’d tour the fancy restaurants of France and Italy, shop in London, drink wine, make love. He was virile and still relatively young. And he’d have his own family someday, his own children, and on his terms. There was little reason to assume two eighteen-year responsibilities other men created with a woman who didn’t even know where the fathers of her children were.

  “Who helps you with your kids?” he asked.

  “Mostly my aunt Renee. I live with her. Sometimes her friend Joanne watches them. My baby sister, Stephanie, helps me too.”

  “Solane, tell me…are you still married?”

  “Yes.”

  William’s head dropped farther. He didn’t know whether he was more exhausted from their few moments of touching or the seventeen minutes of conversation that’d just rearranged hopes for their relationship.

  “So, that’s why you never invited me over?” He began chewing the skin on his lip.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this,” she said while pulling the blouse over her head. William continued biting his lip. “I put you in this position and lied. I should’ve told you everything right away.”

  “You really have a child nine months old?”

  “Yes, a little girl.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Elaine Simone Worthington.”

  “Nice name.”

  Solane continued frantically adjusting the buckle of her belt. She stood, looked into William’s face, knowing that this would be the last time they’d meet, the last time to tour his opulent apartment or touch his soft lips and admire those mixed-up eyebrows. She was a mother of two, who wished at that moment to forget her children and live a life with this man, in his dreams, dreams she didn’t know black men even considered. They’d live in his two-bedroom apartment with a window view so wide it made Lake Michigan appear a block long. She’d live with him freely and in her first real relationship. Solane never resented her children before, even throughout struggles with childcare or child support or the lack of morals of the men who fathered them. But after meeting William, not only did she resent them, she resented herself.

  But William wasn’t perfect either.

  He had no intentions of assuming the responsibilities of her life as his own, acting as some knight from a fairy tale. William was a decent man, although he often overspent and was quite hypocritical in his thoughts. But he was definitely a worthy man for some woman who’d made better decisions. Solane hadn’t made those decisions and was no longer at liberty to experience men like him.

  Forever she’d have to settle for the men who cheated, or men who were mean to her, or those who drank too much and argued loudly when angry; she’d have to consider those with no money at all, or gamble on men who were terrible fathers and probably already had more children than she did. The decisions she had made set her life in cement, allowing her very little room to reshape it. She was a single black mother, a sometimes secretary working for a temp agency, making $5.35 an hour, with an almost ex-husband she hadn’t seen in years and a nine-month-old daughter whose father told her he loved her one time. Instead of her mother, she lived with an aunt who was terribly disappointed in her choices, and now, sitting with a man she’d only made love with once before, a man who touched her softly and complimented her intelligence, she knew what it felt like to be viewed as something other than usable goods.

  At that moment her daughter could be his; they had similar mouth structures, and the baby’s name could be anything William chose, right then, right there, Solane would have allowed him to change it to Thomas had he so desired. The children would be made to respect him as if he were their real father. She didn’t know if she loved him, but he was perfect for her. Being in love wasn’t that important anyway, and William treated her better in their short time together than her husband had in all their years of knowing each other. William possessed the power to make the mistakes she’d made not hurt as bad as they did in the past. If only he’d say something. Something. Anything.

  “I think you should go, Solane.”

  “I think so, too.”

  She shuffled to grab her purse, knocking the empty glass of wine from the table. William took six steps to the door, opened it, still nearly naked.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, standing outside the door.

  William thought to move forward and give her a kiss. He wanted to say something other than goodbye. He knew she’d heard “goodbye” too many times, or in the most important situations, not at all. Therefore, he said nothing. His hand motioned toward her, so slight a movement she wasn’t even aware of it. She then turned her back to him and headed to the elevator.

  * * *

  THEY HADN’T TALKED in more than two months and William never stopped thinking of her. He spent most nights contemplating whether he should’ve gone after Solane the night she left. He planned on calling her a few times and stared at the numbers on his phone repeatedly. He had no idea of what to say or why he’d say anything at all.

  She has two children. That changed everything.

  Solane had probably conjured so much anger toward him, surely grouping him with all other men. Over time, he wondered if maybe he’d fallen in love with her, with the idea he could’ve made a difference in her life. She was an exceptional woman from what he’d gathered, different from what he was accustomed to as well: She listened intently, looked after him in the little ways she could, talked extensively about her talents in the kitchen, wore fashionable clothes on nights out, was impressively smart, had interesting things to talk about, and displayed great taste in wine. He even thought the circle-shaped birthmark on the side of her waist, perfectly round like a small orange, and located right above a group of stretch marks he’d conveniently ignored, was attractive.

  But before he could muster the courage to dial all seven of her numbers, she called him first, at work.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Will.”

  He felt blood pumping in his arms after hearing her voice. “Solane?”

  “Hey, how’ve you been?”

  “I’m sorry I let you leave. I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too, Will,” she began, then paused. He heard her sigh from the other end of the phone. “But that’s not why I called.”

  “It doesn’t matter why you called.” He tapped the pen against the wood desk. “Come over tonight…come see me…bring the kids, I’d like to meet them.”

  “No, Will. I’m not coming over.”

  He held the phone close to his ear as if she hadn’t finished the sentence. There should’ve been words to follow, full phrases containing some explanation that didn’t include “no.” Maybe she was having a talk with her aunt tonight? Maybe the baby was sick and there was no babysitter? Maybe she couldn’t pay her bills? The phone was pressed so tight to his ear it left a print.

  “What happened is in the past, Solane. Everything can be cool again.”

  “It can’t, William.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not where you are in life.”

  “So, what?”

  “I have a question to ask you, William.”

  “Yes, I do think we can work it out. Wait, I know we can.”

  Solane stopped. She’d prepared a speech to give him, explaining why she hadn’t told him about being married, why she didn’t tell him about the children, about living in South Side housing projects, everything. But what he said right then made th
e words of that speech irrelevant. She took the phone from her ear and sat it on the living-room table. The table in their home was filled with various papers, a fake green plant her aunt Renee’d had for years, four ink pens, an action figure, a dirty plate, a baby rattle, and a half-empty baby bottle. The entire room was dark. Every light in the house had been turned off because of a headache Solane developed from thinking so hard. The baby was in her lap, beginning to fuss. Solane lifted her white shirt, as if she planned on stripping totally naked, and placed the baby’s head underneath, which concealed it totally. For the first time, the baby’s suckling noises disgusted her, like the child was taking something more than milk, something she no longer could afford to give. Solane moved her right hand to the table, took a breath so loud it sounded like a cough, and rested the phone against her shoulder. William continued to scream her name through the phone. He began calling her delicately at first, then with aggression, finally yelling.

  “Solane! Are you there? Solane!”

  She didn’t want to pick it up. The vibrations from his voice had a different effect than before; she felt they were now lodged in her chest.

  “I’m here,” she said finally.

  “I shouldn’t have let you leave. We made mistakes, both of us; no, I shouldn’t have let you leave like that. I know you probably already felt something about it. You got your own stuff and I judged just like you thought I would. I understand it now. That’s why you didn’t tell me everything. I’m sorry, but it’s all cool now.” His words unloaded with such precision she had a hard time processing them. “We can start over, start something new with us, anything you want.”