Sixteen
SIXTEEN
Trinidad
T he delicious smell of baked goods and yeast welcomed us to the cozy bakery, where we hoped to find Maria.
Everything Orlando had shared about Maria made me think he might have some unresolved feelings for her, and every time that thought popped up in my mind, the butterflies in my stomach got very, very angry. The feeling was so familiar and unpleasant that I didn’t want to give it space. It reminded me of every time my ex-husband met a new friend or woman and talked about them, and my insecurities would flare to life. He never made me feel secure in his love, and jealousy became my companion.
Orlando hadn’t done anything but make me feel wanted, but I had no claims on him, same as he didn’t on me. Our deal was only for this weekend; once we returned to New York, reality would kick in, and rationality would prevail. But for now, I craved the temptation he personified. He and this town with its beautiful tropical greenery and sweltering heat that made you want to walk around half-naked, and beautiful Black faces all brimming with excitement for the weekend and carnival.
If I’d thought the airport was full yesterday, I underestimated the number of revelers coming to town; it felt that overnight we, the tourists, had quadrupled. Everywhere we’d turned, there were groups of friends walking on the sidewalks, laughing in their summer bests.
A sea of umbrellas and towels adorned the beach, with all types of summer bodies frolicking in the sand and water as we’d drivenby one of the favorite tourist beaches. Old Ofele vibrated with excitement. Local vendors had tents all up and down Main Street, which they’d closed for the weekend. After we’d found parking, we’d joined the throng of people ambling around buying souvenirs and the local fare.
“There it is, there’s the bakery!” I’d spotted it first, and Orlando guided us, holding my hand until we’d made it inside the shop. Even after we walked in, he’d still held my hand. I started at our clasp fingers and gazed up to him, so handsome today, wearing hoochie light blue shorts and a white button-up shirt with short sleeves. The outfit was right up my alley and didn’t help the angry butterflies attempting to break through.
“Hello! Let me guess, are you the people looking for our Maria?” A stout man approached us as soon as we approached the counter with a jovial smile. Again, the feeling of similarity to New Orleans struck me again; if this man would tell me he was a Black Creole, I would believe him.
“I’m Francis Landau. It’s a pleasure to meet you both, Orlando and Trinidad, correct?” He extended his hand to Orlando, then, with my permission, graded mine and placed a gentle kiss on my palm.
“News travels fast.”
“This is not a big town, no matter how much new Ofele has grown over the years. Mikey shared with me your ask, and I agree with him. Maria needs to be the one to decide if she wants to talk to you or not. So last night I called her and let her know you are in town. She doesn’t work here anymore, but we care for her and Maya deeply.”
Orlando’s hand tightened around mine till it hurt. His eyes were wide, and I had to jiggle them until he dislodged the tight grip. I shook away the radiating pressure and grabbed his hand again, which was damp. Squeezing with all my might, I poured all my reassurance and support until I felt the tension ease from his hand.
“Her name is Maya? My friend didn’t tell me; she wanted Maria to tell me.”
“Why…is it significant to you?”
“Yeah, it’s my grandmother’s name in Jamaica; it’s a family name of sorts. Maria knew that,” Orlando explained.
His eyes were misty, and he tried to hide by looking all around the shop—the silly man. My throat tightened at the news, and it wasn’t even my daughter. I so wished he allowed himself space to be vulnerable.
“Okay. So…should we return here? What are the next steps?” Orlando asked, composed once more.
“No, young man, the ball is in Maria’s court now. She said she’d come to you when she’s ready. Please respect that and enjoy your carnival weekend. She’ll reach out if you’re okay with me sharing your contact information with her.”
I searched Orlando’s face for any disappointment, but he took the situation with equanimity. He left his contact information and after buying me a spiced bun and three for himself, we walked out to the torrid heat waiting for us outside.
“So, what do you think?” I asked him, taking a bite of my spiced bun.
“I think that went as well as it could; I did spring this on her, but I could have handled it differently.”
I stayed quiet, impressing myself with my restraint. He didn’t need my opinion on any of this; it wasn’t my business.
“Damn, that silence was telling!” He put on his sunglasses, and we ambled slowly to the car, both wanting to enjoy the sights and the festive vibe surrounding us.
“You know what they say? I’m eating my spice bun ’cause I got no water…”
“So, you minding your business?” He laughed and took two big bites of his spice bun, obliterating something that took me several bites to eat.
“RIP, spice bun, you never stood a chance.” I chuckled.
“You know me and my eating abilities…” he said, and flashes of last night materialized between us, raising my heartbeat and making me sweat more than I already was perspiring.
“Oh, I do know…”
“I have other prowess as well, in case you want to give them a try this weekend.” He popped another piece of spice bun, his third one, and hummed happily. That hum initiated an earthquake in my belly, making tectonic waves in my lower area. Everything he did was alluring, and that was a problem. I wanted to indulge but didn’t want to be sprung by this man. I’d done enough veering off my path to my goal.
“I’m certain, do you…we shall see which ones you get to put into practice.” I, too, could play this game. If Orlando meant to keep me off-kilter, I would return the favor. Game on.
“Anything you consent to, I’m yours…” he said as we approached his car. He gallantly opened the door for me, a habit I was quickly getting used to. I was getting used to all things Orlando, and that wasn’t fair to him or me because once I left on Monday, things had to go back to normal. They had to.
* * *
“So your friends are all staying in a hotel?” I asked Orlando as we hung out in the Florida room of the rental. The place had a wonderful sunroom surrounded by gorgeous vegetation, including a bush with pink flowers, which I searched and found out are called Bahama senna. The abundant small pink flowers adorned the perimeter of the backyard, their nice aroma calming.
“They are. I didn’t want them all up in my business.”
“You mean meeting your daughter?” I asked, sipping lemonade, which Orlando had made when we got home after hearing me complain about the heat.
“Yes, and other things…they don’t know I’m applying for law school. Well, I already applied. I haven’t opened the letter yet, but I think I got accepted. I have to reply to the university by the end of the trip, so I needed some space to make the right decision.”
“Congratulations!” I sat straight, stopping the rocking chair I was on as he swayed back and forth in the hammock he’d chosen.
“Thank you…” Orlando replied, a tinge of sadness clouding his voice. His eyes closed, and he kept swaying in the hammock, same way he probably swayed to make the right decision, and suddenly I understood.
“You love that animation job…the boys have told me how much you enjoy it.”
“I do, but I have to quit to be able to go to law school; Columbia doesn’t allow us to work while in the program.” His arms flexed as he placed them behind his back, the lean muscles peeking out from the short sleeves of his shirt. I wanted to run my palms where the hardness met softness, snuggle on top of him, and give him the comfort he needed.
Calmate, Trinidad . Honestly, it was like Ms. Hot Girl V was trying to take over this weekend, but I couldn’t let her. At least not fully. It wasn’t my time in life for that anymore. Just a little indulgence; maybe I could sneak into his room tonight, but nothing more. No acting like lust-sick fools around Ofele.
I couldn’t afford all of that; my heart couldn’t afford to remember what it felt like to be infatuated, and…why did this man bring these thoughts to mind? I was so content with what I was building with Milton, I was at peace knowing that wild, passionate love didn’t do me any good. But Orlando’s mere presence threatened that reality.
“But why law school?”
“The year for a first paid associate would cover all the debt we currently have. I would have Mom on top-of-the-line medical insurance so that she could get all the treatment she needs. She could use more regular therapy sessions and more care, but right now, we can’t afford that. I am good with animation, really good, but I am also good with retaining information. And I would be good at law school,” Orlando said, his closed eyes tightening every time he said law school .
This man really was looking at this all the wrong ways, but was it my place to intervene? It was not. Just earlier, I’d told him I was minding my business. Orlando kept walking his path as if it was predetermined and he had no say in what happened. But he was the one in control. He didn’t seem to know it.
“Orlando, I think you could find other ways to help your mother if law school isn’t what you want. With the passion you have for animation, you could probably move up the ranks pretty quickly in three years.” There went keeping my nose out of his business. If my mother would be here she’d call me metiche and then join in the butting in.
“Yeah…maybe—”
A loud knock interrupted Orlando, and he sprang from the hammock way more gracefully than I could have done. I walked behind him as the nice, quiet rental filled with boisterous sounds as two men and one woman walked in, all chatting at the same time.
“Yoooo, you rich son, this house is nice!” A tall, lanky man, with the same complexion as Orlando but with curly hair, clapped Orlando on the back and whistled after the embrace. Just a look at him, and I knew he was the loud one of the group.
“Ugh, why you so tacky? Let the man live. Hi, boo, you good?” A petite woman who I could probably carry in my pocket threw her arms up at Orlando, who dutifully picked her up and twirled her around, her short curls bobbing with the movement. She was gorgeous, with flawless mahogany skin and an impish smile.
“I’m good, Gracie pooh, now that you’re here,” Orlando said.
“Papo, lay off my woman, she’s not your Gracie pooh…” said the third man, who looked like danger and sex on two long legs. His New York accent was tinged with something else, and I knew he was a fellow Dominican without having to ask.
“Here you go, you promise not to be on that bullshit,” Grace growled, and the three other men laughed.
“You should have never dated this fool,” Orlando said and turned around to find me standing by the entrance of the living room. Suddenly, seeing all their expectant faces, I felt completely out of place. This was Orlando’s environment, and I didn’t quite fit in it.
“Who is this?” Grace approached me with a big smile.
“Hello, I am Trinidad, I am—”
“Oh shit, we know who you are, Ms. V,” the first man said, and Orlando elbowed his friend so quickly I would have missed it if my attention wasn’t on him.
“You do, huh? I hope all good things. What is your name?” I asked the girl first, who bounced on the balls of her feet, ready to take flight. She could be Black Tinkerbell in the live action film if they ever did one.
“I am Grace, that’s Trevor—” she pointed at the loudmouth “—and that is Desmond,” Grace finished with an annoyed tone as she pointed at Dominican Papi Chulo.
“Hey y’all, I’m Trinidad, even though it seems that is common knowledge; I’m gonna go upstairs, work a bit, and give you time to catch up. See y’all tomorrow!” I turned around and bounded up the stairs, hoping Orlando wouldn’t follow.
No such luck. His steps reverberated heavier than mine behind me. Lean my ass; the man was pure mass. I’d learned that fact this week. Why I thought otherwise, I would never know. I reached my door just as Orlando’s warmth caressed my back. I wanted to lean back and let him hold me, and kiss my neck and…
“Trinidad…what’s up? I thought we were all going to the yacht party tonight. And why don’t you wanna hang out?” Orlando asked, his hushed tone full of hurt.
With nowhere to escape, I turned around to him, wanting the conversation to be over.
“That is what you came for, to have fun with your friends who are your same age.”
“We are ten years apart, not fifty. I thought we were past this.”
“If all of us were in school, you would be in third grade while I would have been a high school senior, not even in the same building.” I gestured downstairs to the bickering and laughter floating around the house.
Orlando’s widening glance was all I needed to open my door, but he was right behind me.
“Please, you said we would both enjoy this time, together.” His deep grumble started melting my reserve.
“That’s not fair; that was before your band of merry thieves arrived.”
“What?”
“Sorry, I am confusing stories—Robin Hood, Peter Pan…who cares? Listen, I want you to have fun, and catering to me, making sure I’m good, and catching every reference from your tight group is not going to be fun.”
“Why don’t you let me determine what is fun for me?” Orlando said with a deceptively calm voice. Suddenly, the very large and comfortable room felt small. The calming walls with their rich buttery colors didn’t soothe me. My pulse raced as I walked back toward the wall until Orlando was a breath away from me. He’d moved so smoothly I hadn’t had time to react to anything but his alluring cologne and sultry warmth. The heat outside might feel suffocating, but this heat, the one we created together, felt incendiary.
“Don’t do that, Trinidad; we both have promised to let go…let things flow, right?” Orlando asked, his eyes settling a little lower than my eyes. My lips tingled, remembering how great he tasted last night. I wanted to try again, taste him once more, and see if this time he would taste spicy, like cinnamon and nutmeg from the spiced bun. He didn’t keep me waiting long; our mouths melded together, knowing exactly what to do. His hands were everywhere: my locs, my neck, my collarbone. Every single path of his fingers left a trail of goose bumps behind.
I moaned into his mouth, happy to taste the cinnamon and fruity flavors of the bun we ate earlier along with the essence of man, arousal, and need. A need so deep I couldn’t help pushing off the wall and rubbing my body against his, to chase away the pool of desire that had settled in my core since yesterday.
“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do this since the last time I kissed you,” he said between breaths, and I chuckled into his mouth. I sucked his tongue, and that earned me a loud, needy moan from him. I needed to elicit that same exact noise again. My pussy agreed wholeheartedly. His hands traveled down my neck to the cleavage of my dress, and he paused, his deep brown orbs hypnotizing me.
“Can I touch you here?” Orlando asked, and I nodded desperately, my locs dragging against the wall. Orlando didn’t wait for another second; he yanked the cleavage down until one of my breasts bobbed out, the cool air and the sweet arousal he created coaxing my nipple to full attention.
For a second, I froze. He hadn’t seen grown woman titties before. These ladies had some extra miles he wasn’t familiar with. Some extra swag and sag, as Miranda would say. But based on how he reacted to the sight, all tension left my body. The first touch of his finger on my skin galvanized me, and I undulated against him, his hardness settling against my belly. He realized what I was searching for and lowered himself enough for the contact between our private parts to match perfectly. He caressed and plumped and played with my breast until so much wetness gathered between my legs I grew desperate.
“Shhh, I know what you need.” He moved again until he pressed his thigh between where I needed him the most. The pressure he created was perfect, and like a needy cat, I rubbed myself against him, pulling him down for another kiss.
The pressure built inside, his hard thigh the perfect ally in my climb to ecstasy.
“Go ahead, Ms. V, get yours; I’m right here,” Orlando whispered next to my ear, his lush mouth pressed against my earlobe, then settled in my neck, licking and sucking while I dry humped him.
No way past me would ever believe this was possible. Me, Trinidad Velasquez, a thirty-five-year-old mother and wholesome woman, dry humping with the most alluring, gorgeous twenty-five-year-old. It didn’t hurt that Orlando was beautiful inside and out, and something in him kept calling to something in me.
The warmth flooded through my veins, and when Orlando bent a little and the wet drag of his tongue touched my nipple, I cried out. An explosion of sound and light went off in me, releasing all the tension and worries until I slumped against the wall, a ragged doll with a satisfied grin.
“Fuck, that was amazing, you came so beautifully for me,” he whispered. Orlando bent and captured my mouth again for a languid kiss that left my brain scrambled, and my arousal peeked again. “So, that’s that. You are coming. No more talking about staying behind. Grace is gonna get you a dress of hers that she brought, just in case.”
Words were coming out of Orlando’s mouth, but there was a lust for me that didn’t allow anything but “Yes, Orlando” to come out of my mouth.
Did this man-child just sex a “yes” out of me?
* * *
By the time I had my wits again, Orlando had departed and a gentle knock on the door signaled Grace’s arrival.
“Trinidad, can I come in? Orlando said you were expecting me.”
Allowing Grace in, I shut the door again, worried that the sex demon would come back and addle me again and convince me to escape with him to a tropical island or something. That had been so good, dry humping wasn’t supposed to feel this great. If it weren’t for his friends’ presence, I would have taken things much further and fuck the yacht party. Orlando had awakened something long dormant in me, and I was finally ready to let it out.
“I’m so glad to meet you finally! Orlando speaks so highly of you and your sons; he really cares about your family.” Grace, with her impish smile, immediately made me feel at ease. The age difference so apparent downstairs washed away while we chatted about everything and anything.
“Oh, I’m so glad you are here; I swear I travel with the boys all the time. Well, not Orlando; he’s deeply responsible, so being away from home never feels comfortable to him, but the other two knuckleheads get on my damn nerves. I love them, but they get on my nerves.”
“How long you’ve all known each other?”
“We met in college. We were all part of the Caribbean-American Association and ended up on the board—well, not Trevor, but the three of us. Trevor was a member, but he just wanted to link up with all the other Caribbean ladies on campus and felt the best way to locate them was joining the association.” Grace laughed as she plopped on my bed and made herself comfortable.
“And Orlando?” I hoped I didn’t sound too eager, but I wanted to know more about him. The picture in my head of Orlando had morphed completely since yesterday. I always thought of him as this easygoing, nonchalant guy, but everything I was learning painted a different canvas—one that captivated me to my everlasting dread.
“Orlando was the most studious of us. He joined the association as a tribute to his father. You know his daddy was Jamaican, right? Well, he wanted a connection to his heritage. He spearheaded several cultural events that year we were on the board, and because of him, we raised the most amount of money the association had ever raised. Honestly, I don’t know how he did it and still does it now. Those brothers of his…They were just calling him as I came up, asking for things he specifically had left written. He tried to laugh it off when I asked if he was okay, but…he has a lot on his shoulders. I worry about him sometimes. But Orlando doesn’t do worry, he is the most stubbornly positive person I know.” Grace shook her head, laughing.
The fact that his brothers had called yet again with questions they probably should know the answers to must be hard for Orlando. You would think they would step up the way he did at that age, but it seems everybody relied on him. Again, the similarities in our lives felt eerily serendipitous.
“He will never tell you if he needs something, and he will always bend over backward for his loved ones, sometimes to the detriment of his own needs. I hope you keep that in mind,” Grace said, and the warning was received. She was a good friend, and if I was her, I’d do the same. Here I was, a mother with two children who probably had a lot of needs in Grace’s eyes. What could Orlando possibly want to do with a readymade family when his hands were already full? And why in the world was I even worried about that? Orlando and I didn’t have a future.
But it didn’t stop me from imagining one with him.
Dios mío, I was in trouble.
* * *
Delilah and Mikey’s yacht party assembled the who’s who of Ofele and all the carnival leaders and organizers. The double-decker boat had ample space in the front for partygoers to mingle. Inside, there was a bar and a steel drum band playing some popular soca tunes accompanied by a track. Everyone was decked out; my people were not here to play. Thank God for Grace’s white dress. The strapless bustier A-line had enough give to fit snugly on me versus the loose fit on her smaller body.
The heat of the day hadn’t relented; my locks were up in a high ponytail ready for any breeze and possible kisses from the man standing next to me. Orlando wore loose white trousers and a short-sleeve shirt, the easygoing look absolutely appealing. With his hand on my elbow he guided me through the throng of guests until we found our hosts holding court near the built-in bar.
“You made it! How are you?” Delilah gave us both big hugs. Once I said hello to Mikey, a sharp tug from Delilah separated me from the men, allowing us some privacy.
“Oh, I see you have opened yourself up to the possibility of more.” Delilah held back a cackle, but just barely. I glanced at her, not knowing if to lean into my laughter or my annoyance. The woman was persistent; I’d give her that.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” If she were going to be a busybody, I would be obtuse. It worked with the twins all the time.
“Now you are gonna play games, you know exactly what I mean!”
“Loose lips and all. Girl, let me live, okay?” I winked and made my way to Orlando, who’d turned around with drinks in hand.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, but I made a wild guess, and I hope I’m right?” Orlando said, handing me the cold drink. I looked back at Delilah, whispering in Mikey’s ear and winking at me. If I let her, she’d start me up in a cougar’s club, and I wasn’t out here trying to be no one’s wildcat—sometimes, I had to lie to myself to make it day by day. The problem was, the lie wasn’t working tonight because my wildcat had been purring since I saw Orlando and realized he had conspired with Grace for us to match colors.
A sip of my drink gave me a burst of flavors, herbs, caramel, and enough alcohol to keep me in bed for the entire weekend.
“Mamajuana? How on earth?” I asked, impressed. He knew I loved the cocktail, but this was our equivalent of moonshine. I didn’t even ask for it in bars unless I was in a Dominican spot.
“Yeah, the bartender is Dominican and Haitian.” Orlando gestured toward the tall man behind the bar, who offered a bright smile and thumbs-up. Orlando gave him the nod and then guided us toward a quieter spot in the back of the yacht. We sat down on the comfy lounge bench, both savoring our drinks and the gentle breeze, now that the sun had finally relented.
“When was the last time you had fun, Ms. V?”
“So, you’re back to calling me that?” I grinned, looking at him over the rim of my glass.
“Yeah, but it’s an endearment now, tú sabe.”
“Oh, a little bit of Spanglish. You don’t speak it much, why?”
Orlando’s expression clouded, and the urge to comfort him kicked in. A second later, he was back to his easygoing self, smiling again.
“I speak it with my neighbors, but when I try to speak and practice with Ma…she doesn’t like it; she was teaching Spanish to my dad when the accident happened, and now she barely uses her first language. And she never taught us Garifuna, so…yeah.” He shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. He didn’t fool me one bit. I reached out and held his empty hand and looked at the foaming water behind us, the motor of the yacht lulling me to relaxation.
To be in silence with someone, true comfortable silence, was a gift. I’d only had that with Miranda. Everyone else in my life, I had to be on. Even my children, because they needed me and were highly attuned to my moods. With Milton, I had always to be pleasant; he hated conflict, and because of it, I was always careful around him. At least my Dominican brava side came out to play. But here on this sultry night in Ofele Town, a few days before the bacchanal, I could be myself. With the person I least expected.
“Last time I had balls-to-the-wall fun was a happy hour turned into an all-nighter when the twins were ten years old, and my ex had them for the weekend. But then, around 1:00 a.m., Miranda and I were wasted and dancing, and I got a call from my ex that I needed to meet him at my place because he could no longer take care of the boys. I had to rush home and sober up as best as I could with coffee to put them to bed. They were so upset. They had been looking forward to their weekend with their dad.” Just remembering that weekend made my blood boil. I’d never known I was so creative with insults till that night. I had whisper them so the boys wouldn’t hear, but I sure got them all out.
“That doesn’t sound like ‘balls-to-the-wall’ fun,” he said gently, his face showing full understanding and not a trace of pity.
“You weren’t there before 1:00 a.m.; trust me, it was balls-to-the-wall, okay.”
“Okay… I trust you, so that was five years ago…” Orlando turned my hand over until he cradled it, his fingers caressed the up and down from the tip of my thumb to my wrist. The scent of the ocean and our mamajuana reminded me this was my weekend; this was my time.
“I know, I’m very much overdue. I’ve been focusing on wholesome activities,” I said, laughing. His hand moved up my arm, trailing soft pleasure on its path.
“So, what would it take to meet the not-so-wholesome Ms. V?” Orlando crooned. I wasn’t aware men could do that. Jesus Alabao. His question crept into every needy atom in my body.
“Mmm, we could start with dancing; I love dancing,” I whispered back, gazing into his eyes, unwilling to show how much he affected me. When he closed his and licked a drop of the infused rum off his lush bottom lip, I squirmed on the bench.
“So, let’s dance.” He stood up, adjusting his slacks before offering his hand to me. I stared at where he’d adjusted and wondered if he was all grown there too. My thoughts were descending further and further into straight filth.
“Okay, let’s dance.” And I followed Orlando on my way to have ball-to-the-walls fun.