Eighteen
EIGHTEEN
Trinidad
S OS text messages were frequent back in the day after my divorce. Miranda and I had our drill down whenever I made a stupid move and linked up with someone not good for me or my heart. I’d text her, and she’d come to pick the kids up and take them to her mom, then return with all the supplies we needed for a day of rest sprinkled with some tough love.
Heathen felt like a very hard word, but for a couple of years after my divorce, I searched for myself in different ways, and some of them were more slutty than others. There was nothing wrong with that. I discovered what I truly liked in bed and what I needed in a partner, and I enjoyed the hell out of my Hot Girl days. But then I hung my jersey and searched for the type of family and stability I deserved. Since then, the heathen days and amazing sex declined in quality and consistency. Nothing to do with anything but myself. Because I’d stopped prioritizing my pleasure for the sake of everything else in my life.
Now I’d decided to dip my feet in the heathen pool, and I’d come back with more than I’d bargained.
Hence the SOS text.
The sun had barely come out of the sky, so I prepared myself for the curses accompanying this call. Miranda hated to wake up early. Propping up my laptop in front of me as I sat in bed, I answered the video call, a frazzled Miranda on the other end.
“Girl, SOS text? What the hell happened? Did you sleep with a stranger at that party last night? Why the everlasting fuck are you awake right now? Shouldn’t you be sleeping the good sex away?” Miranda’s bleary face greeted me on the screen.
“No! Girl, what do you mean a stranger? What do you think this is?”
“A trip for you to enjoy and get your freak on, and I’m glad you’re applying yourself to the assignment, but, girl, it’s six thirty on a Saturday; you lucky I love you.”
“I can’t sleep.” I shook my head, remembering how a fantastically naked, strong Orlando carried me up the stairs and tucked me in bed, declining anything to alleviate his hardness but a steamy good night kiss that made my pussy purr in protest. She wanted more, and I did too. “He made me squirt,” I whispered at the camera.
“Oh shit, hold on. Let me turn on the light.” After some shuffling, amber light brightened the screen and a more composed Miranda returned to the frame. “We are talking about Orlando, right?”
“Miranda, yes, I am a reformed heathen, not a careless heathen,” I huffed.
“Gyal, don’t yuh start we me. So, he made you squirt… I knew that boy had it in him. Good for him.” Miranda nodded, impressed, completely missing the point. I waved my hands in the frame, demanding her focus, my heart tripping as I remembered every decadent detail from last night. Usually, with SOS meetings, I’d regale Miranda with all the details of my encounter, but oddly, I didn’t want to do that right now.
“So spill, girl, tell me!”
“I…it felt more. You know? We haven’t even had intercourse yet…well, I guess fingering is intercourse, but never mind that. I just feel like… I feel like…it was more. It felt emotional. It felt like I was betraying Milton.”
“Here you go with Milton, who cares about that square? Girl, has he even called you?”
Miranda’s question soured my already fragile mood, causing my anxiety to increase.
“No, he’s busy with his colleagues. But you know he wants something serious now so maybe I shouldn’t be leading Orlando on, I think this is more serious to him than me.”
“Really? Are you sure about that?” Miranda questioned, her no-nonsense attitude usually a balm. Today, it was making my stomach cramp.
“I don’t know, I mean, I… I was in the moment, but it felt very intimate; I wanted… I want more.”
“So get more. Milton is not the end-all-be-all. He is a good man, but he doesn’t need to be your good man. Not every good man on the face of the earth means marriage material. Expand your criteria, girl.”
“I have, I did, and what did I end up with? A broken heart and single parenthood. I fucking knew my ex wasn’t the right fit, but I fell in love with him anyway. And Orlando is a good man, but he is young , Miranda; he still has a lot of life to live.”
“Are you about to tell me…that that man who cares for his entire family is not ready for something serious?”
My stomach flipped again, and I broke eye contact with Miranda.
“Because everything you’ve told me of what he’s shared in this trip tells me he is right up your alley in the commitment and responsibility area, and it seems that he also fulfills your heathen needs too; when was the last time you squirted, miss?”
“This is not what I called for,” I complained.
“Sure was. ’Cause you knew I would give it to you straight and without any fluff. I’m not saying you need to end things with Milton. I’m also not saying Orlando is your Prince Charming. I’m saying you need to stop looking for one-size-fits-all solutions and decide what your priorities and true needs are. When you discover that, then you’ll be able to figure all of this out. In the meantime, girl, keep squirting!”
She was wrong for that last statement, but right at the same time. I had called for a reality check.
“I have some processing to do,” I confessed, and she nodded along.
“No shit…listen, I’m going back to bed.”
“Hold up, before you do, can you wake up the twins, please? In the most loud manner possible? I have some chores for them today. They best not get comfortable thinking they did this prank and everything is alright.”
“Girl, I doubt they think that; they’ve both been on their best behavior and very solicitous while staying here. But I’ll wake them up, as long as they don’t wake me up after I go back to bed.”
“Deal. Thanks, girly. I miss you; you should be here with me.”
“Next year, we’ll plan it accordingly. Love you, boo.” She blew me a kiss, and the screen went dark.
Before anything else I shot a text to the boys letting them know I wanted them to clean Miranda’s kitchen, living room, and the bathroom they were using top to bottom. Just as Miranda said, their response was quick and solicitous, which meant they understood that the consequences of their actions were still ongoing.
My chest ached; I hated being at odds with my sons, but they needed to learn. Somewhere along the way, they’d gotten too comfortable with the empowerment I fostered, and I sat for a while with it. My solution to it all—Milton, marriage, a strong male presence at home and outside the home—I turned it all around in my head until I built up an appetite and a slight headache.
Needing time for myself, I checked work emails and had a few video meetings. Even though it was Saturday, it was still a workday for me, and with the fictitious tournament canceled, I had to prioritize some tasks I’d put on the back burner. By the time I stopped, it was late afternoon, and my stomach and head united in protest until I replenished.
After a lengthy shower and my skincare routine, I made my way downstairs to see what Orlando and his friends were up to. The laughter and voices floated up the steps even before I turned the corner from my bedroom, and I froze, riveted by the conversation at hand.
“Nah, son, this man got bread. We ended up all sharing one hotel room; he got a whole house for himself,” Trevor complained.
“Listen, I don’t blame him; look at his guest. We would have been in the way my man. I can’t fault the game. That’s why that job you got at the animation spot is sweet as fuck,” Desmond said with a chuckle.
“Y’all stay counting each other’s coins. It’s weird,” Grace said, and I smiled at her timely comment. I wasn’t convinced about Trevor and Desmond, but they were not my friends so I had no say. But it seemed they didn’t understand Orlando well.
“I told y’all I wanted to do some sightseeing first, and you fools couldn’t take additional days off from work ’cause you both stay missing work. So yeah. And I needed some space to think,” Orlando explained. I sucked my teeth; he didn’t owe them, not one lick of explanation.
“Man, you ain’t thinking about nothing; you just were trying to curve us. I see how it is,” Trevor complained.
“This is your problem. You think the world revolves around you. I did need some time to think. I’m pretty sure I got into law school.” Orlando’s rough tone told me he’d crossed over to that space where his frustration couldn’t be contained by his people-pleasing tendencies. My chest ached again. Twice this morning for the men I cherished while they navigated difficult experiences.
My stomach growled, and my heartbeat tripled. The men I cherished? How had Orlando joined those ranks?
“You’re gonna be a suit? Get the fuck out of here. Why you going that route? Man, you love your job!” Desmond interjected, and for once, I sensed genuine care in his answer.
“Orlando, for real? Why didn’t you?… Let me guess, you were trying to work it out yourself?” Grace said, hurt, coating every word.
At this point, it was too much for my Dominican temper to sit on the sidelines. Stomping down the stairs, I made my presence known well before getting to the last step.
“So y’all feel you’re so supportive that you can berate Orlando for his choices now?” I asked, forgetting myself for a minute. A red haze clouded the room, and the surprised faces of everyone but Orlando gaped at me.
Orlando, though? His frustration and helplessness oozed out of him, which, in turn, increased the volume of my anger.
“Do you have any big-time responsibilities, Trevor? Like do you take care of a child or a baby momma, or your family?” Crossing my arms over my chest, I awaited his answer with a saccharine smile.
“Uh, nah, I still live with my parents, but I contribute!” Clearly, this was a sore subject ’cause that “I contribute” spoke volumes.
“And you, Desmond, when was the last time you called Orlando to check in on him and his caretaking duties?” Desmond had the grace to look down, then faced me again, contrition and acknowledgment clear in his expression.
“Trinidad is right, my bad, my dude. I’ve gotten used to you keeping things in, but I could do a better job at checking in from time to time.” Desmond nodded, and Trevor’s head swiveled between Orlando and Desmond with clear disbelief.
“Nah, but we hang out all the time; shit, he could have said something!” Trevor gestured at Orlando, who shook his head.
“You ain’t lying, but when is there space for that? Whenever I bring up anything that is not girls, shooting the shit, sports, or anything like that, what do you say?” Orlando asked.
“Ain’t nobody got time to be a grown-up,” Grace, Desmond, and Orlando all recited at the same time.
Trevor sucked his teeth, his frustration escalating. He paced back and forth to the living area.
“Alright, alright, y’all have a point. I gotta work on that. Growing up…that shit scares me. And you have been doing that shit for so long, Orlando…it’s… .intimidating,” Trevor confessed.
“Finally.” Grace threw her hands up. “Some communication between us all. It took Ms. Trinidad to come and set us up for success. We’ve been friends for years. The friendship is and can be deeper than what we allow it to be,” Grace said with so much fervor, that my temper finally subsided.
Somehow, these young people were trying to figure out themselves and each other. I remember how that felt. And I had kids already. Now I wondered how much my ex and I weren’t communicating—how much we were keeping inside. Trevor’s confession had triggered some long-lost memories of my ex, joking that he couldn’t keep up with me and my dreams. I’d always dismissed those comments, but now? Maybe I should have allowed him to speak more about that to me.
“Fuck, I know we’re here for fun, but this feels good. Talking to y’all feels good. I have other shit I need to share with you, but we can do that after we return, we can focus on the fun now,” Orlando said with a smile, reverting back to where he was more comfortable, but I could sense his excitement. I hope he saw that his friends were truly wanting to support him.
“Yeah, that’s alright.” Grace rolled her eyes and mouthed at me, “boys,” as Trevor dabbed up Orlando, and they hugged as if all was forgiven. Trevor and Orlando had a brief exchange while embracing, their words low and just for each other, and the weight that had settled on my chest lightened considerably. When Desmond pulled Orlando for a hug, doing that back-pounding thing men loved to do, Orlando drew back misty-eyed, everything inside melted. Without any thought, I was soon beside him, my hand in his. Warmth, support, and safety. Want, pleasure, and yearning. Orlando didn’t need to say a word, because I felt the same.
Orlando bent over, and the soft touch of his lips on my cheek warmed my insides and calmed all my troubles.
“Are you ready to go to the fair?” he asked loud enough for everyone to hear. With everything happening since this morning, I forgot our plans for today. But I was ready—more than ready—to embrace this day and every day to come in Ofele.
“I am.” I smiled and hoped that he understood that I was ready for that and more.
“Thanks, Ms. V…that shit was sexy as fuck; you can defend me like that any day.” The caress of his warm, minty breath on my ear caused a shiver all over me.
“Thank you for letting me live out loud and be me,” I replied, getting lost in his gaze.
His friends shuffled out of the rental, telling us they’d wait for us outside, finally giving us privacy.
“Are you good?” he asked, checking on my well-being even with all of this happening.
“I am. I’m really, really good.”
And for the first time in a long time. I meant it.