Chapter Two
Geo
This is probably a bad idea, I thought to myself as I walked alongside Jamal down the sidewalk to Gabby’s. Having been with the company a while, I knew that dating coworkers was not only frowned upon, it was against policy.
I kind of understood the logic; the company didn’t want the drama of potential lover’s quarrels within the workplace. But at the same time, we were all adults with free will, so limiting who we were and weren’t allowed to be romantically involved with seemed unfair.
Not that Jamal and I were romantically involved, or that this was even a date. Did it feel like one? Yes, but his request for me to join him could also just be someone innocently trying to make friends with their coworker or wanting to find a good lunch spot.
But I got the impression it was more than that. I didn’t miss the way Jamal subtly checked me out a few times across the office throughout the day…because I was checking him out too. I couldn’t help myself; the man was gorgeous.
I wasn’t exactly short at five-foot ten inches, but the top of my head barely grazed the level of his smooth, chiseled jaw.
Ordinarily, I liked when men wore beards, but covering even an inch of Jamal’s warm, lovely skin would be a crime.
Lucky for me, he kept his head shaved as well, so I could enjoy even more.
He was the embodiment of tall, dark, and handsome.
I was grateful he gave me a second chance after my disastrous first impression. His good looks had apparently scrambled my brains, and canceled out my manners. I hated that Jamal had faced so much discrimination that it was his first assumption when I tripped over my words.
I wasn’t sure how anyone could have those negative thoughts about him. He had a magnetism that only made me want to get closer and learn more. As far as I was concerned, this was a date, and I was determined to make it a good one.
I thanked Jamal with a smile when he held the door to the restaurant open for me to pass through. “We order up there,” I told him with a nod toward the long counter along the wall. Gabby’s didn’t have a wait staff; all the employees worked in the kitchen or behind the register.
Their main clientele were businessmen and women from the surrounding offices who grabbed lunch on the run. They did, however, have a few round tables in the dining room in case anyone wanted to sit down and eat.
“What’s good here?” Jamal asked when we took our place in line behind several men in suits, and his eyes scrolled over the menu plastered on the wall.
“I like everything,” I answered honestly. “But my favorite is the turkey club on sourdough.”
“Ooh, I love sourdough.”
“Me too. I recently learned how to make it, so I eat it way more often than I should.”
Jamal gave me a shiny smile. “You cook?”
“Oh, yeah; I taught myself. I’ve got a lot of free time and I love to eat, so it just made sense.”
“Well, I’m impressed. I can only make the easy stuff; scrambled eggs, toast, peanut butter sandwiches.”
“You can’t count spreading peanut butter as cooking,” I argued with a shake of my head, making him chuckle. “But I like making easy stuff, too. I might be a grown adult, but I still like some chicken nuggets now and then, dammit.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” he laughed again. We made it to the counter, where he ordered two turkey clubs and a soda for each of us. Jamal paid before I could retrieve my wallet, but I didn’t argue. It was nice to be treated. I did thank him, and he gave me a smile and a wink.
“Now, my mom,” he began as we took a seat at a small round table, “That lady could cook anything, and it was all amazing. I think that’s why I never learned.” I cocked my head in confusion, and he explained, “I knew I could never do it like her, so I just enjoyed what she made.”
“Smart,” I replied as he handed over my sandwich and drink.
“She always made extra, thinking it would hold me over for a couple of days while she worked, but being a growing boy, there weren’t usually many leftovers.”
I gave him a sad smile. Hearing the way he spoke about her, I could tell they had been very close. I couldn’t help my curiosity by asking, “What happened to her?”
“I lost her in a car accident about a year ago. She was driving home from work and was hit by a drunk driver. They rushed her to the hospital - the very one she worked at - but her injuries were too great. I’m just grateful I got there in time to say goodbye.”
I reached across the small table to take his hand. I didn’t care that we were surrounded by other businessmen; they were all focused on their phones or laptops, anyway. But even if they weren’t, Jamal needed my support, and I didn’t care who saw.
“She said she was at peace; that she got to see me come so close to achieving my dreams, and that she knew her son would change the world. She told me that my success was worth every long night cleaning up after patients to scrape money together for my schooling; that I was her legacy. She made me promise that I wouldn’t quit; that I would finish school and get the career I dreamed of, and that she dreamed of for me.
It was tough. After she passed it was hard to keep pushing forward.
I just wanted to stop and grieve, but the world kept spinning.
The hospital posted her job the very next day.
Class kept on schedule, and tests kept coming.
There were times I wanted to quit, but I pushed myself for her. ”
I squeezed his hand and blinked the moisture from my eyes. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been. But I know she was so proud of you.”
Jamal surprised me by chuckling. “Oh yeah. My whole life, she told anyone who would listen to her about my accomplishments; if I got on the honor roll, if I was reading at a higher grade level, if I got an A on a test…” He laughed again. “It got me into more than a few fights over the years.”
That one had me scratching my head. “How so?”
“Well, like I mentioned earlier, I grew up in a pretty rough neighborhood, where it was more important to be tough than smart. I got picked on a lot for having my nose buried in a book or working hard at school. Plus, because my mom bragged on me a lot, some of the other kids in the neighborhood caught hell for not studying as hard or getting as good as grades as I did, so they took that out on me as well.”
“I’m so sorry,” I offered, feeling like it wasn’t enough.
But Jamal merely shrugged. “It’s okay; it toughened me up. After a couple of fights, I learned how to defend myself. Once I started fighting back, I wasn’t such an easy target, and they left me alone for the most part. I made a couple of close friends, but mainly stuck to myself.”
Jamal gave my hand a squeeze before letting go to unwrap his sandwich. “But enough about me,” he said with a smile. “I want to hear your story.”
I also unwrapped my food and took a bite while I thought about where to begin, settling on, “It’s like you and I have lived opposite lives.
I grew up on the north end of town, where status is everything.
The only fights I ever witnessed were the neighbors bickering about who had the nicer house, car, or boat. ”
Any time in the past I'd tried to open up to someone, I always got the same sarcastic “Wow, how horrible for you,” or “Must be nice,” comments. But I saw no judgement or resentment in Jamal’s eyes.
He just listened intently as I continued, “Don’t get me wrong; I know I was fortunate.
We never had to worry about money or meals, but everything just felt so…
” I circled my hands as I came up with the words, “Stuffy. Sterile.”
He studied my face for a moment before asking, “In your neighborhood or your home?” He was insightful about the things I wasn’t saying.
“Both,” I shrugged. “Neighbors never grew close because they were constantly trying to outdo each other. And I have never been close to my parents because they were gone so much.”
“Even when you were young?”
I nodded through a long sip of my soda. “They’re both art dealers.
They travel all around the world collecting big-ticket paintings for their clients.
They’re currently cruising the Mediterranean in their search.
When I was little, they hired a nanny to keep an eye on me until I was old enough to stay alone. ”
I huffed a laugh. “You talked about your mom’s cooking; I never saw my mom prepare a thing.
Even when she and my dad were home, the nanny stuck around to cook the meals and keep me busy so I didn’t bother them.
” I didn’t want to whine, but it felt so good opening up; especially to Jamal.
He listened to me, and at some point, had even reached over to offer a touch of support as I’d done for him.
So I pressed on, “I’ve often wondered why they had me in the first place. When I was younger, I always felt like a mistake. But now, I help out; I take care of the house while they’re gone, and I sign for packages if they send any art home.”
Jamal shook his head. “Geo, you’re not there to be their servant.”
“Well, I’ve failed them in so many other ways,” I replied, dropping my gaze to the table.
“I didn’t exactly excel in high school, but my parents still insisted that I go to college.
They had big plans and lofty goals for me to become an art appraiser, but I just couldn’t cut it.
I tried so hard, studying every day, but I still failed out after two semesters.
They were furious and called me an embarrassment.
“They wanted me out of the house, but also needed me around, so they cut a deal with me; one of their clients had a contact at Smith & Sons, and they could get me a job. Even though they hated I’d just basically be a receptionist, at least it was at a reputable company.”