22. Denise
Chapter twenty-two
Denise
T hings have changed. Since Halloween, I use a key instead of my shoulder to get into my apartment building. I can order an extra large pizza with wings without feeling like a glutton because I've got someone to share them with. And I snuggle with a hot, powerful body almost every night.
I have a boyfriend .
Honestly, I should have done this years ago. If I have a tough day at work, Cory's here with wine ready to give me a foot rub. If I'm up against a deadline, he'll send delivery to make sure I remember to eat. He even picked up tampons and chocolate cake the last time the crimson wave hit. Things have definitely changed…for the better.
Having someone to rely on is both comforting and terrifying. Questions are constantly running in the back of my mind like a browser with too many tabs open. What if I get used to this kind of treatment? Can I still call myself a feminist if I let him help with all the chores I hate? Will he ever let me wear his Air Jordan Colette's? What will happen when he inevitably leaves?
But what if he stays?, my heart pleads, doing her best to break through years of cynicism and disappointment. Since Halloween, my heart has been a lot more outspoken. She loves when Cory's around, sending warmth to the space behind my sternum until I feel like I'm glowing. She squeezes painfully whenever he leaves. And when she sees him be sweet with Clawdette, or support me during a difficult moment in my workshop, she beats so fast it feels like palpitations. As great as things have been, I'm afraid to look into what all that means. Surely it's not something as foolish as…love.
I turn the blender on high to clear my thoughts and pour his green goddess smoothie into one of the to-go cups I picked up for him last week. I strongly prefer the sandwiches at Frankie's to this chlorophyll concoction, but they don't fit into his rigid meal plan. Thank God we don't both have to eat like Olympians. I'd go crazy.
Cory comes into the living room decked out in Wall Street chic, hair still damp from the shower. He comes around the counter to plant a kiss on my neck and gestures to the to-go cup.
"What's this?"
"This is your green goddess smoothie. I got tired of hearing you whine about macros , so I peaked in your fridge the last time I was over and bought the ingredients to make your precious green smoothie here."
Cory freezes, the look on his face unreadable before he pulls me into a tight hug. I let out a startled yelp.
"Thanks, baby. You didn't have to do this," he says. His harsh breaths tickle my ear.
I pat his back awkwardly, a bit overwhelmed by this show of emotion.
"It was no big deal. Really. I just thought it'd help with mornings when you have to rush."
He squeezes me once more, kisses my cheek, then finally releases me.
"It is a big deal. This is, like, expert level girlfriend behavior right here." He makes a show of taking a sip of his smoothie, humming in appreciation. Then he twirls me around the kitchen until I can't help but giggle.
"You've definitely earned a treat."
"Oh, really?" I ask, still giggling. "What kind of treat?"
"Hmm." He taps his chin. "I'm still ironing out all the details, but my tongue and your pussy are definitely involved." He winks, and I pinch his butt for being such a tease.
As has become the norm when he stays over, I walk him downstairs to kiss him goodbye. I know it's over the top, bordering on ridiculous; we're going to see each other again in ten hours, after all. But I can't bring myself to be embarrassed. In fact, it's become my favorite way to start the day.
Even with Cory on the sidewalk and me on the first step of my stoop, I still have to raise on my tippy toes to reach his lips. I thread my fingers through the hair on the back of his neck, oblivious to the city passing by around us. He palms my jaw to angle me for a deeper kiss, and I moan into his mouth. It's way too easy for me to imagine him lower down, giving me my reward now instead of making me wait. Maybe I can convince him to play hooky?
"Uh, wow."
I yank my lips from Cory's and turn to see Maya standing just three feet away. She's carrying two coffees and a bag of something—probably croissants. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! How the fuck am I supposed to explain full-on making out with Cory on my doorstep?
Maya looks back and forth between us, her face flushed. Is she mad or just embarrassed? The paper bag crinkles in her tightening grip.
"I'm guessing he's the reason you missed the last girls' night?" she practically spits at me. Mad , then .
Cory's still standing next to me, and I turn when he weaves his fingers between mine.
"Do you want me to stay?" he asks, eyeing Maya warily before looking back at me. "I can call in sick, no problem."
He squeezes my hand, sincerity brimming in his eyes. I know he'd skip work if I asked him to. Even if he had a big presentation. Even though those assholes at Banks Ripley are always waiting for him to slip up. And I'm the jerk who still hasn't come clean that this amazing, supportive man is my boyfriend.
I push the guilt down and squeeze his hand back.
"Thanks, but I think we need to talk alone."
He lingers, looking unsure, so I pull my hand away and wrap it around myself.
"OK," he relents. "Call if you need anything, babe."
He plants a parting peck on my cheek before heading towards the subway. I don't miss Maya's wince at the endearment, or the flare of her nostrils when he dares to kiss me goodbye.
"Should we go upstairs?" I offer, resigned to have a blowout fight and unwilling to do it in the middle of the street. And this day started so well…
Maya jerks a nod and follows me upstairs, silent the whole way. As soon as my door locks, she whirls on me.
"How long has this been going on, D? And please don't insult me by trying to deny it."
Already exhausted, I slump against the kitchen counter.
"Hard to deny what you saw with your own eyes. We've been seeing each other off-and-on since your wedding, but only made things official about a month ago."
"Since my wedding?!" she screeches. "What happened to all that talk about staying away from 'he who will not be named'?"
"Tequila happened," I admit. "It's not like I did it on purpose."
Maya drops the forgotten breakfast on the entryway table and comes right up in my face. Should I be worried now that her hands are free?
"Blame it on the shots?" she scoffs. "Really?"
"For the first night, yeah," I say, a bit defensively. "Then, it was just good, old-fashioned lust. And now…" I don't finish the sentence. I can't . I'm still coming to terms with what we are now.
Clearly disappointed, Maya shakes her head.
"I just find it hard to believe that one of my best friends would hook up with a man like Cory. He's not even a man! He's a…," she's sputtering now, "a fuckboy!"
"Talk about throwing stones!" I shout back. "Weren't you the one who said all the Park men are players? That they even had some pact not to date? If I recall, you ran into more than a few of Adam's conquests when you guys were just dating."
She curls her lip.
"And do you know who was the worst offender? It was Cory!" I roll my eyes. "It's true! They may have all agreed, but Cory was the one adding rules like no cuddling, no staying over, no bringing them home to meet the family."
"Well, we cuddle all the time! And we started sleeping over after just a couple of months. So I guess things change, don't they?"
If I were any angrier, I'd be foaming at the mouth. People can change. People do change.
"Oh, so it's OK that he's an asshole to everyone else as long as he's nice to you?"
"How is he an asshole?" I yell. "Because he played the field? Every guy in New York City plays the field at some point, Maya. Your husband included."
She steps back like I slapped her, and a tiny voice in the back of my head tries to warn me I'm crossing a line.
"If he's so great, why did I have to catch you in the act to find out you guys were dating? Why hasn't he brought you around for family dinner?" She looks me up and down.
"Is it because he's happy to hit it in private, but not willing to claim you in public? You know what he thinks about women like us. After all the shit you've given me over the years about being confident and loving myself, I can't believe you'd fall for that fatphobic jerk."
Once the venomous words leave her mouth, my friend disappears. A stranger stands in front of me, one I must protect myself against at all costs. I take several steps back.
"Number one, keeping our relationship a secret was my idea. First, because it was just booty calls and nobody's business, and then, because I wanted to take things slowly without the scrutiny of my girls or his family."
My voice is eerily calm, and Maya's face pales.
"Number two, I'm a big girl. You're right about that. I've got two helpings of ass, two helpings of thighs, and three helpings of boobs. And guess what? Cory likes that."
"That's damn sure not what it sounded like when I met him last year," Maya counters, her voice pained. I force myself to ignore it. He hurt her, and now she's hurting me.
"Those things he said to you last year were his boss's words, not his. You might know that if you took a moment to hear him out instead of being wrapped up in yourself, like always."
I move to the entryway, grab the coffee and pastries, and proceed to dump them all in the trashcan. It could've been peanut butter I was working on how to tell you. You're the bad guy for showing up unannounced and cutting short my time with my boyfriend." Maya gasps at the word. "You're the bad guy for jumping to conclusions without letting me explain. And you're a bad friend because when I finally needed some support and understanding from you, you made it all about you ."
"Denise, I—" I put my hand up to stop her from coming up with another sorry excuse.
"You need to leave, Maya. I won't listen to anything you have to say, and I need to get ready for work. You can see yourself out."
I turn my back on her and wait to hear the click of the door closing before collapsing into an armchair. Ever the empath, Clawdette immediately jumps into my lap, curls into a ball, and starts purring.
All these years, I thought we were friends. But the minute I step outside her warped caricature of a strong, Black woman, I'm nothing? Not even worth an explanation? The benefit of the doubt?
It's all too familiar; the abandonment, the disappointment in her eyes. It's my parents all over again. Why aren't I worth sticking with? Standing up for? First my parents; now Maya. If I let things keep going, I'm sure it'll only be a matter of time until Cory finds a reason to leave. Unless I leave him first…