Twenty
TWENTY
Trinidad
H ow easy it is to forget a side of you when you put it in a neat little box to never be explored anymore.
Ms. V exploded out of the box ready to play and with that a legion of fiery emotions, all vehemently taking over. There was nothing but for me to experience the journey, be present, and embrace every moment. Now all that was left was to get my sympathetic nervous system to get it together because the urge to retreat after my night with Orlando at the fair had become stronger than El Cuco dragging you off to bed during a bad nightmare.
The craving to sneak out of my room and into his that night kept me tossing and turning, waking up in tangled wet sheets. The wetness was mostly my sweat. Mostly.
After a shower and changing the sheets, I gathered my courage and made my way downstairs, where Orlando stood, making breakfast.
With no shirt on.
At this point, the man might as well carry me to his bed and put us both out of our misery. All of me wanted to be so close to him, mind and spirit. Feeling like this hadn’t been the plan. The plan had been to get my freak on and go. Fuck, if I’d said that out loud, Orlando would have never let me forget it.
“What are you laughing about?” He turned around, placing a plate of scrambled eggs with veggies and sausage on the kitchen island. A cup of steamy cafe con leche accompanied the meal. The twins had gotten much better at helping out around the house since their mentoring with Orlando, but I hadn’t had anyone make me breakfast in a long time. Maybe since I left my parents’ home. My chuckles subsided, and a pebble lodged itself in my throat. That could be the only explanation for the tightness in my chest and the lack of air through my lungs. It couldn’t be anything else.
“If I tell you, you’ll call me old,” I managed to say.
“But you’re old; we already established that,” he said, sitting on the other side of the counter, his stare caressing every part of me he could see.
“Boy, you can’t be looking at me like that,” I complained. Savory goodness coated my tongue at the first bite of the breakfast scramble, and I used my appetite as a shield.
“What do you want to do today?” Orlando called my bluff, ignoring my cheeks full of eggs. Now what was I supposed to do? Fast chewing my way through the mouthful, I took a sip of the coffee to clear my still-tight throat.
“I have to go to Delilah to get something to wear for that event tonight. I hadn’t brought any fete attire,” I explained.
“Alright, do you want me to go with you?”
Before the words finished, my head was already moving.
“No, I think you should hang out with your friends today; it was what you came for…well, besides finding your daughter. Any calls?” I asked, moaning when I got a particularly delicious bite. The man really could cook. I wanted to throw my panties at him, but that would send the incorrect message.
“No. Not yet. Are you sure you’re good with me hanging with them? I prefer to stay with you,” Orlando said in his husky voice, doing things to me.
“I know, and I do too. But all of this, although wonderful, is overwhelming.” I gestured between us. “I thought it would be this fun weekend escape, but I think, at least for me, it feels more than that. And I have to sit with that for a while. On my own. But we have tonight, and we will have a good time at the fete.”
“Thanks. I know that must have been difficult to share. Not gonna lie, it is feeling big to me too.” Orlando’s hand went to his chest, and as he rubbed in the middle, my chest released some of its tightness.
“Okay, then, we have a plan. We go do our own thing, and tonight the night is ours.” My face warmed as we both grinned like loons.
“I cannot wait.”
* * *
“So, how many businesses do you own?” I asked Delilah. Walls of dark wood and plum velvet with colorful outfits surrounded us. The small boutique, called Delilah’s Fashion, had a variety of dresses for different occasions, the perfect location to find a dress for tonight’s fete. The giddy teenager rush coursing through me had overtaken any other sensible thought. Orlando, before leaving with his friends, had pushed me into a corner in the living area and proceeded to kiss away any nerves taking over. Still overwhelmed with everything moving so fast, I was glad to be here, even if it had to be with Delilah.
“Oh, we own a couple more; we have a mini-mart, and a bike rental, another bakery. You know.” Delilah waved her hand as if it was all inconsequential.
“Was Mikey ready to build all of that with you…or have you had to pull extra weight?” I asked, intrigued by their relationship. Now more than ever, with Milton not having reached out once, and Orlando so…so everything, I was starting to wonder if my relationship-building assessment was incorrect.
“Girl, he was the drive behind all of this. I’ve been trying to lean into my soft girl era since my divorce. But he makes sure all the financials are tight, and we have managers for all the places, so we get to enjoy each other. It provides us with the comfortable living I’ve wanted. And, girl, we travel—a lot.”
“But the age difference, don’t you worry?” Because I worried. There are things I learned in this last decade that were essential to my healing.
Responsibility, commitment, and compromise were keys to my success as an adult. Leaving some of my childish ways behind had been hard but necessary. Leaving the partying behind felt like the hardest thing to do. I lost a part of me, but it was what my twins needed.
They needed someone always ready to adult, not a mommy who had fun sometimes and was extra tired on a Sunday morning, so that breakfast was only porridge that I had planned ahead to make sure they had food if I slept in. They deserved to wake up to the smell of sizzling bacon and freshly made golden bakes, their favorite Bajan breakfast.
They deserved all of that and I had needed to realize my time to shine was done. This new era was my mom’s era, my giver era, my nurturer’s era.
So, I did worry about the age difference. Orlando deserved to live his selfish era right now, and it didn’t seem that it was what he was doing right now, and me adding to the mountain of responsibilities felt selfish.
“About what? Look at this? What do you think?” She pulled out a mustard-yellow dress with a simple draped cleavage and a high thigh slit.
“It’s my favorite color,” I marveled and imagined how the fabric would cling to every curve and how Orlando would hang onto my every move. I needed to have it.
“Then try it on. You look like a medium, maybe, but those hips look like a large. Let’s see how this medium works!” The dressing room had a comfortable sofa, which Delilah commandeered as she shooed me into one of the stalls.
“I don’t worry about the age difference because Mikey is an adult. He made decisions the same as I did,” Delilah said, her usual jolly tone absent.
“Not that, I mean…we know what it was to be their age. I remember being a mother and wondering how to do it all, and I had so many moments I wished I could do things a regular twenty-five-year-old could do.” My therapist would be very proud of me, voicing my anxiety. Giving it a name and reason wasn’t something easy to do for me. But as I started to imagine any type of future with Orlando, I began to see how mismatched our futures loomed on our horizons.
“Again, that is a decision made; you cannot make the decision for anyone by trying to guide the process and withholding your feelings. At least it didn’t work for me when I did it. Damn Mikey.” Delilah chuckled, lost in her memories. “He came to my house every morning and would sit on the porch until I came out, and we would sit down and talk. He’d ask me. ‘Okay, fine, what’s the excuse now?’ And I would tell him what was bothering me, and we would talk it out. It took a while and more action than words, but eventually, I realized I wanted to choose happiness. And I did.”
The dress draped me perfectly the soft material allowing the air to circulate. That must be why goose bumps erupted on my arms and legs. It couldn’t be Delilah’s words.
Delilah’s gasp when I modeled the dress was all the validation I required to buy it on the spot.
“No, it’s yours. It truly is. I mean, I couldn’t sell that to you. It was made to be worn by you.” There was goofy Delilah again, all googly-eyed. “Orlando will fall head over heels in love with you tonight if he hasn’t already.”
My temperature rose, my chest tightening again at her words. For once, I didn’t feel like rolling my eyes at her insistence about the two of us. For once, I grinned, and holding hands, we squealed like little girls talking about their first infatuation. And for once, I allowed myself to imagine a full future with Orlando, even while my stomach dropped at all the repercussions that would come from the fantasy.
* * *
“Are you sure you want to go out?” Orlando asked, stifling a groan. Good, I’d put my locs in a high bun, moisturized each crack and crevice in my body until every inch of my skin glowed, and applied light makeup that had the unenviable task of standing up to the sweltering humidity of Ofele. Strappy sandals and my clutch completed the look. All I required was liquid courage to make it through the night.
“You good, Ms. V?” Orlando waited for me on the ground floor wearing tan slacks and a deep blue shirt opened at the top. If I followed my instinct and dropped a kiss where his pulse vibrated, we’d never leave the rental. Instead, I approached him, my anxiety washing away after the touch of his skin against mine. The support I’d been searching for my entire life resided between his arms, in the spot right above his chest, in his eyes as they gazed at me with so much emotion I choked up.
“I’m excellent,” I confessed, the admission triggering a burst of activity in my stomach. The damn butterflies, which I’d been doing my level best to ignore, flapped their damn wings around until they left me breathless.
“If you’re doing excellent, then I’m doing excellent.”
Orlando navigated Ofele as if he’d lived in the town since birth. The venue for this fete was an open-air club. A hut by the beach, the wooden structure painted in purple, green, white, and yellow with exotic flowers and fauna depicted on the column of the open design. The structure had a surrounding second level where tables and chairs made up the VIP area. A large bar traversed the side facing the sea, the waves the perfect background to the busy bartenders taking care of the thirsty fete goers.
The breeze had finally won the fight against the constant heat of the weekend, the scent of salt and ocean reminding all the revelers this was a night of bacchanal. The beat of my heart synched up with the bass of the sound system as the DJ played the latest carnival hits. We paid our entrance and we made our way up to the VIP. Thanks to Mikey, we had a prime spot close to the DJ and close to the upstairs bar.
“Yo!! Y’all made it finally!” Trevor rushed toward us before we could make it to the table. Scrawny arms surrounded me, and his strong cologne suffocated me as he surprised me with a tight hug. “Thanks for making us see.”
He detached himself from me, and I turned around, wondering what I had missed.
“We had a heart-to-heart during lunch today; I told them everything. Just, you know, everything. The things that were easy for me to share with you but not with them. The way my brothers are acting like damn fools and can’t even take care of my mother for a long weekend without fussing. The fact that I don’t know if law school is the right answer, but I don’t feel like I have a choice.”
Orlando’s words floated confidently above the commotion of our group. And his eyes searched mine for something, something I was desperately afraid to give him.
“Oh.”
“Yup. Oh. Thank you.” He bent, and his soft lips kissed my forehead.
Jesus, Bendito Alabao! How was I supposed to wait until later to jump on this man? How was I supposed to keep my emotions in check the whole night? I had all the answers but didn’t want to say them aloud. Not yet, not when the night was young, and our group was lively and joy filled every cell of my body.
After all the hellos, Orlando settled me on his lap, the music vibrating between the two of us, elevating my awareness of him. Every breath he took, every time I slid on his lap, and he settled me again, the hardness building below. I let it all flow. The fete grew in crowd and noise as the night progressed, and the drinks flowed on our table. Tonight, I wanted to be with him, skin to skin, nothing but our sweat between us. I didn’t want doubts or tomorrow to intercede.
“I want you inside me tonight.” I bent over and whispered in his ear. His soft earlobe tempted me, and Ms. V took over, my tongue giving him a lick. The groan I received in return was all I needed.
“Is that you, Trinidad??” A loud voice startled me out of my interlude with a very hard Orlando who settled me firmly over his dick so that his erection would not be visible. The woman in front of me looked very familiar with a long blond wig, and a dress that exposed more than it covered, her abundant curves in perfect display.
“Girl, is me, Milton’s coworker! I thought you’d be in the Poconos with them crew that is always trying to kiss the bosses’ asses! Y’all separated?”
Under me, everything went still. Inside of me, everything exploded in pure chaos.
This was one of Milton’s coworkers, Roxanna. I’d met her during their holiday party last year, and we’d hit it off, keeping each other company while Milton mingled with the leadership and left me on my own.
“Oh hey, girl, hey.” I stiffened on top of Orlando, mirroring his stillness. His friends gaped at us; their stares so intense I had to shut down the heat coming off them.
“So, this is your new man?” she asked excitedly. Milton had told me after leaving me on my own for two hours not to chat too much with Roxanna because she was a gossip. It was only a matter of time before this got to Milton in New York. The lack of sudden air and the absence of the flapping in my stomach kept me rooted in place, uncertain of how to proceed.
“Girl, don’t you worry, Milton is a whole bore. This looks more like you! I mean, sure, he always talks about you in the office and stuff, but you probably saw through it, it’s all about status with that one…” Roxanna chattered without requiring any involvement from me. Thank God, because every word she said settled in the pit of my stomach until I wanted to rush out and get some air. And I was already outside.
Get a grip, Trinidad!
“Sorry, girl, my boyfriend is looking for me, but I hope to see you tomorrow! What band are y’all with?”
“Oh, we are with Power by Four.” Grace came to my rescue, clearly reading my discomfort.
“Oh! Great! I’m in the green section! See you tomorrow!” Roxanna floated away just as she’d come, leaving chaos and destruction behind her.
“Are you okay—” Orlando hadn’t finished his sentence, and my legs sprang into action, getting up from the only place I wanted to be but knew I couldn’t indulge in.
“I…listen, I’m getting tired.” I grinned, hoping he would allow me this little lie, this one lie, so I could escape and deal with all the turmoil inside.
“Trinidad, let me take you home.” He stood up, not allowing me the space I needed.
“No, you should stay with your friends. I can catch a ride back to the rental. I will meet you there.”
Orlando’s concern seeped into my veins, not letting me close him off completely. For once, my protective walls failed me, the same as they did with my ex-husband. Somehow, my feelings were entangled with his, and I couldn’t figure out where my unease started or finished.
“No, that is not safe; I’ll take you.”
“Orlando, please… I… I’ll wait up for you. We will talk. Let me just…let me just go for now,” I pleaded, my pride bruised at how much this man could get me to concede.
“I…fuck. Okay. But please call me with you arrive. And I’ll give you an hour. An hour, Trinidad. Okay?” I nodded, knowing he wanted it. I had to figure myself out before the hour, dreading it would not be enough time.