7.
MONday morning, I get up early and reacquaint myself with the home I used to play around in as a child.
Most of it has been upgraded to look more modern.
I’m sure he did those. His parents were not the modern kind of people.
His mom loved vintage, and his dad loved everything his mom loved.
I remembered how his father used to worship the ground Mrs. Noble walked on.
They spent more time together than with Kasim.
I remember how it made him feel. It’s sad we had to talk about stuff like that as children, but that’s what it was.
I told him how I used to hear my mother cry herself to sleep because she was so stressed trying to raise me alone.
I told him I never knew my father. He bounced the minute my mom told him she was pregnant.
She said he went off to college and lived his life.
Meanwhile, college for her wouldn’t happen because she had me.
“Oh my.”
The woman’s voice catches me off guard as I step into the kitchen. I see her coming from the pantry. She’s an older black lady – in her late fifties or early sixties, I would guess – and is wearing a white apron.
She says, “You’re as pretty as he described you.”
“Hunh?”
“Kasim. He told me you would be here.”
“Oh. I’m—”
“Giada Gardner,” she says. “I know who you are. I’ve only listened to stories about you for the last two years. I know exactly who you are, suga.”
I scratch my head. Has Kasim been discussing me with his housekeeper?
Smiling uncomfortably, I say, “I’m sure he hasn’t been talking about me. We just reacquainted like two weeks ago.”
“I know. He told me that, too.”
“Oh,” I say.
What else did he tell you?
“I’m Pearl, by the way.”
“Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You as well.”
“Um…so, what do you do around here?”
“Anything Kasim needs me to. I wash clothes, cook, clean, run errands—”
“My mother used to be the maid for his parents.”
“I know.”
“Right. He’s told you a lot about me, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
“Good morning,” Kasim says as he enters the kitchen, his unwavering gaze fixed on me.
My eyes are on him just as heavily because the sight of him is playing with my insides. He’s perhaps the most handsome man I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants – super laid back and casual.
“Good morning.”
“I see you’ve met Pearl.”
“Yes. She was just telling me how much she knew about me already.”
He grins and says, “Pearl, you have to keep some stuff between us.”
“I see that.”
“By the way—no need to cook any breakfast this morning. I’ve arranged for other plans. As a matter of fact, why don’t you take the rest of the day off?”
“Really?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well,” she says, taking off her apron. “You ain’t got to tell me twice.”
He turns to me and says, “We’ll have brunch in the garden.”
“We don’t have to eat together just because I’m here.”
“Of course not. However, we do need to discuss some things, so…right this way,” he says, leading me outside.
To my surprise, there’s a chef out here cooking, and drinks are already on the umbrella-covered table for us.
He pulls out a chair for me, and after I sit, he says, “The food will be ready shortly.”
Kasim sits down and takes a sip from his glass while his eyes stalk my features. His gaze is unrelenting. Intentional. I suppose he’s adjusting to what’s new about me. I can’t lie – I’ve done the same to him because so much is new. So much has changed.
I blink away from his trance and nervously thread my fingers.
“How did you sleep?” he asks, breaking the awkwardness.
I shrug. “Okay, I guess.”
“Is there something wrong with the room, or—”
“No, no. It’s just new surroundings.”
“What’s new about it? You know this place like the back of your hand.”
I take a sip of the drink, realizing it’s a mimosa – a strong one, but it’s delicious. I’m grateful for the alcohol. I have a feeling I might need it to get by.
“Do you always get chefs to cook for you?”
“No. I usually have Pearl whip up something for breakfast. I’m usually not home for lunch or dinner. It’s all work. I have a chef today because this is a special occasion.”
“How so?”
“You’re finally back.”
Finally , he says, as if he’d been expecting me.
The chef places food on the table. Eggs, bacon, grits, biscuits—it’s a flex to have an outside stove.
He leaves.
I prepare a plate and eat some eggs and bacon.
Kasim fills his plate with more food than I think he can handle. But with the size of his muscles, he probably needs all that protein. All of it.
After taking a few bites, he says, “You grew up into a beautiful woman. I meant to tell you that sooner.”
“You don’t have to say that, Kasim. It’s all good.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, let’s keep this professional since that’s what this is. A transactional marriage. You get your inheritance. I got a million dollars. That’s what we said this was, right?”
He grimaces and says, “Right.”
“So, I don’t need any compliments from you.”
He drops his fork on his plate and leans back in his chair.
I say, “I’m just trying to go by the rules. This is what I agreed to. What I signed, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you acting like I’ve offended you somehow?”
He doesn’t answer me. I glance up at him and catch his darkened gaze. It’s so menacing, I have to look away from it. I return my attention to my plate.
“I need to ask you something,” he says.
“What’s that?”
“First, let me set the scene…we’d just finished our freshman year of high school. You came over to hang out like you always do, and then I never saw you again. I’ve always wanted to know what happened.”
“Nothing happened,” I say, trying to downplay the severity of what that moment did to damage me. “Life happened. School happened. High school was tough.”
“I know that. We weren’t at the same school, but we had some of the same challenges. What I’m asking you is, why did I never see you again?”
“That was fourteen years ago, Kasim.”
“So what? I don’t deserve an answer? Is there a statute of limitations on closure?”
My brows snap together. “Closure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I don’t like the way this is going. Can we agree to leave the past in the past?”
He shakes his head slowly. “I tried,” he says quietly.
“I really tried, Giada, but when I saw you again, all that time we shared bubbled back to the surface. I feel like I want to get it off my mind, but I can’t because I don’t know why our friendship ended the way it did. I can only get the answer from you.”
I sigh and say, “All I can say to that is, our friendship was beautiful, and then it was over. I guess we were only supposed to be in each other’s lives for a season. Sometimes that’s all people have.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Not you and I. We had more than that.”
“Kasim—”
“We did, and there’s nothing you can say that will convince me otherwise.”
Oh, I have a lot to say, but being that I’ve matured, I won’t say it.
I take a sip of this drink and look at my phone when I hear it buzzing. It’s my mother calling. Yes! Saved by a phone call.
“Excuse me for a moment,” I tell him, then answer, “Hey, Ma.”
“Giada, guess what?”
“What’s that?”
“I see this beautiful house that I love. I’m going to see it at one o’clock.”
“Is it in Charlotte or Gastonia?”
“It’s in Charlotte. Your mama’s moving to the city, baby!”
I smile and say, “Okay, Ma. Don’t get too excited just yet. I would hate for you to be disappointed.”
“Okay. I’ll try to contain my excitement. Hey, can you meet me there?”
“Um, sure. Text me the address, and I’ll meet you over there. What time will the realtor be there?”
“At one. I’m so excited for this!”
“I know you are. I’m excited for you, Ma. I’ll see you soon.”
I hang up the phone and return my attention to Kasim. He never took his attention away from me. He stared me down the entire time I was on the phone as if he was familiarizing himself with my face.
He says, “Buying your mother a house, huh?”
“Yeah. I figure after all these years, she deserves it.”
“Agreed.”
“And as for what happened with the friendship, Kasim, I suppose we just grew apart. Nothing more, nothing less. I’m sorry you’ve been bothered by it for all these years, but it’s over now. In three months, this will all be over, right?”
I dab my mouth with a napkin while he chooses to drink instead of answering or acknowledging what I said.
I say, “Anyway, I have to get ready to go.”
“Go where?” he asks, brows drawing together into a frown. At this rate, he’s going to end up with the expression permanently etched on his face.
“Out,” I respond. “Thanks for breakfast.”
Again, he doesn’t respond – just sits there in a daze, looking at me like he has a million things to say but doesn’t know where to start.