3
Nina
Inside my apartment, I flipped the switch to bathe the small comfortable living area with soft yellow light. I made my way to the bedroom at the back of the unit to get out of my swimsuit and head into the shower. But I was arrested by the phone ringing on my bedside table.
I walked on sore legs and picked up my iPhone. Nicole and Nellie flashed across the screen for a FaceTime video call. My favorite cousins. They had adopted me as their sister when I went to live with my grandpa and grandma, getting me into mischief at home and church. Our grandparents, Bishop and First Lady Rolle, headed the Mount Hope Baptist Church—a five-thousand-member-strong church. It was our veritable playground growing up.
“Hello, chicas,” I said to their smiling faces.
“Aren’t you in a good mood, today,” Nicole said with a smirk.
“She’s in her swimsuit which means she was out in the ocean, her most favorite thing to do. When will you stop pretending to be a fish?” Nellie chimed.
“When you stop pretending to be allergic to exercise,” I said, making myself comfortable on my bed. I wasn’t going to make it to my shower with these two on the line.
“Which is never,” she replied with a laugh, eliciting laughs from me and Nicole.
“Some things will never change,” I said. For about two seconds I debated whether to tell them about Adrian before I spilled in a rush of words, “I had an interesting encounter this evening and I am totally in love with this job and with this house already.”
“Tell us about what it’s like living in a mansion on the beach behind the gates and walls of Skyford Cay,” Nellie demanded.
“No, I want to hear about the interesting encounter, that sounds way, way juicer,” Nicole declared.
I laughed at their identical facial expressions on the screen. “Can I plead the fifth on this last question?”
“No, you don’t get to invoke your United States citizenship. Answer my question,” Nicole said.
“Okay, Okay, Okay. I had a Crossfit competition on the beach tonight.”
“Crossfit competition?” they both said in unison.
“Yes, there’s a mini gym on the beach. I met the owner, who engaged me to a challenge. We did three sets and he won two. I challenged him to a swim tomorrow morning and I’m going to beat him.”
“Nellie, did you pick up the tone of her voice, as she told the story? I sense something is up,” Nicole said, her tone playful and provocative.
“Yes, I did. Come on cousin Nina, drop all the syrupy details. Who is he? What does he look like? How much does he earn?” Nellie said in an authoritative tone—the tone she adopts when she wants to get her own way.
“You guys are a riot,” I said, trying to gain time to not answer their questions.
We always share everything going on in our lives. But I wanted to reflect on my meeting with Adrian before I said anything to them.
“Come on, you know we have a no secrets pact. Come spill the sugar, Miss Pastry-Chef-Extraordinaire,” Nellie persisted.
“Okay, okay. His name is Adrian. He is the owner’s son. And yes he is tall, fit, so strong, so handsome. And he is cultured and his accent is hard to place. He’s American, but doesn’t sound like any I’ve met. But it’s impossible.”
“What is impossible? Where’s your mind at? You just met the guy. Did he go out to buy a ring already? You are not even the dreams and rings kind of girl,” Nicole reminded me.
“Exactly, I haven’t gone there. I just recognized I can”t fall for a super-rich white guy.” I tried hard to make my voice neutral. Inside my head, my heart, my soul . . . neutrality was slowly leaking out.
“Need we remind you one of your parents was white.”
“Does it matter? And you don’t have to remind me,” I said in protest.
“You’re the one, pulling the race and class card so early in the game,” Nicole said, her tone accusing.
“And what’s the game here,” Nellie chimed in. “You met on the beach, you had a Crossfit challenge, and you are in love already. That will be a first for Ms. Nina who doesn’t do serious relationships.”
“Exactly, my dear cousin. I don’t do serious relationships. Casual and temporary is my groove. I am no Meghan Markel. I am no royal princess or debutante material. I won’t fit into his world. This is a no, no, no. Entirely off-limits. Out of reach,” I said with conviction.
No one will leave me again.
“You protest too much,” they both said together, their faces filling up the screen on my phone. Their eyes sparkled with mirth. They were having a good time at my expense.
“Remember guys, I do not do deep romantic love. To love is to lose. Why get warm and fuzzy, when warm and fuzzy will disintegrate into coldness, into darkness, into death.” My voice was flat, devoid of the curl of excitement fluttering like a swarm of butterfly wings in my stomach.
“Sober up, Nina. You need to let this go. This personal mantra. This enslavement of your emotions to experiences. Let it go so you can find true deep romantic love,” Nicole said, her tone serious and sympathetic.
Can I release my beliefs about love? Can I release my three-year self-imposed no-dating rule?
“Are you reformed from your serial dating, Nicole?” I asked.
“Maybe it’s time to let go of those adolescent promises we made. We are thirty and the world of love needs us,” Nicole said, somber.
It made me pause. She was right. Deep down I did want to experience true, never-ending romantic love. Maybe it was time to reconsider the tenet I had held on to for so long since my parents died in a plane crash. Maybe Adrian was the man who would make me reconsider. Would I give in?
“Come back, Nina. You were off in dreamland. We googled Adrian. I would be in dreamland too,” Nellie said on high peals of laughter.
“This conversation is done. I need to get out of this wet swimsuit. See you guys—never,” I said and pressed the end button, giving them no room to come back.
My crazy cousins.
My best friends.
I rubbed my hands over my short curls like I could rub the mix of doubt and excitement swirling through my head. I smiled as I removed my swimsuit and stepped into the shower.
The shower squeaked when I turned it on. The overhead shower drenched me with water with the strength of a waterfall. Shhsh, shhsh, shhsh, shhsh, shhsh, it fell on my soft, short curls, over my eyes. Some of it got into my slightly opened mouth and I spit out the bitter water the moment my taste buds recognized it.
I started my shower ritual with my vanilla-scented body wash. I did it on automatic pilot because my mind was busy imagining my victory over Adrian.
I will be victorious in the morning, I promised myself.
Could he beat me at swimming? Would I allow it? Not over a ton of dead conch shells would I allow it.
I am in trouble.