4
Adrian
I arrived at the poolbefore my watch registered 5:30 a.m. Nina, of course, was unaware the man she encountered last night was a competitive beast. I thrived on competition, on beating the odds. I walked past the pool on the path to the beach. The natural light was hazy, light enough to see but not light enough to enjoy the full color and definition of shapes and things.
I couldn’t sleep last night. I kept replaying the challenge and the conversation. I kept replaying a slideshow of images of Nina round and round and round in my head.
The worst part was she brought memories of Aimee flooding into my consciousness. Aimee Viville from Dominica. The angel who claimed I broke her, but it was she who’d broken me. I hadn’t met an Aimee since we parted at the end of our undergrad years at Harvard. Aimee wasn’t impressed by my wealth or looks. She was into me, the whole man.
Since then, I have longed for a woman not blinded, affected or challenged by my money, looks, position, or power. Aimee had fitted perfectly. I’d made myself vulnerable to her, I’d shared my thoughts, my dreams, my heart with her.
But I’d refused to introduce her to my world, to my parents. I’d been fearful they would reject her. For two years, I stayed at my frat house and refused to go home with Aimee.
In the end, Aimee ended it.
And I vowed then not to make myself vulnerable to another woman.
For the last seven years, I had put up walls, keeping my relationships heavy on fun and light on feelings. I now felt that promise to myself is under threat. I came early to have the place to myself. To think in peace. To make up my mind in peace. Now. I had additional questions.
Am I ready for love without reservation?
Am I ready to do it within my parents’ timeline?
“Ah, you are here already,” Nina’s cheerful voice interrupted my morbid thoughts.
“You have perfect timing, Nina,” I said, my eyes taking an appreciative inventory of her strong, sleek, shapely legs. Her smooth golden tanned skin glistened with the oil she’d applied. My pulse raced like my Indy race car. Her swimsuit was different from last night’s. This was a swimmer’s suit with three-quarters of one side in black and the other in kelly green. And it did nothing to conceal her curvy, generous hips. She had matching kelly-green flip-flops on, showing off her dainty toes. In a word, she was stylish.
“Good, so are you ready to be beaten to guava pulp?” she said with her infectious joyous laugh.
“Guava pulp?”
“Aren’t you familiar with the guava?” she asked.
“I have had the fruit and its many variations of preparations, particularly down the islands.”
“Down the islands?” she queried.
“I have been to every Caribbean island.”
“Every island? Are you sure? Have you been to the eight hundred islands of the Commonwealth of the Bahamas?” she said, erupting into sweet peals of laughter. Her eyes closed briefly. Her cheeks reddened with the exertion. Her lips parted and flashed a straight line of bright white teeth.
“Let me see, I have been to . . .”
She cut me off. “Don’t bother. This is our way of saying we have countless islands.” Her voice was light and amused.
“Do all Caribbean islanders exaggerate? In Antigua, they have three hundred and sixty-five beaches and in Dominica, they have three hundred and sixty-five rivers,” I said, my tone cajoling and snarky.
“Maybe we do. But I think it’s more an advertising ploy than anything else,” she retorted and led the way to the beach and the colt blue water. I began to doubt my resolve as I prepared myself for the chilly salt water. Winning was losing its appeal.
“Nina, are you sure you don’t want to race in the pool instead? Where there’s no danger of sharks and the water being arctic?”
“I’m not worried about sharks or the frigid cold. Relax, Adrian, You’ll be fine in the ocean.” She laughed, and it was a calming balm on my nerves.
“I’m relieved. Let’s get this swim meet on.”
“Before we hit the waters, please tell me you’ve had our guava duff. I can’t mention guava and not talk about guava duff.”
“Guava duff?” I asked with polite interest.
“Okay, I have to fix this for you. But come, let’s get on with my beating you to a guava pulp in the water.”
Sure. Let’s get this friendly little competition on the way. I will ignore my blood rushing like crashing waves. I will ignore my pulse racing like the speed of light. I will ignore my seven-year vow perched on the hill of my memory ready to tumble into my present with Nina.
****
Twenty minutes laterI emerged from the ocean feeling like guava pulp. Nina had taken off like a rocket and had reached the red buoy, our marker, before I even identified it.
“Are you sure you are a swimmer?” she asked when we had made it back to shore, her tone full of humor.
“Are you sure you are not a champion swimmer? You don’t strike me as an amateur,” I said between gasps for air. The race had been so fast. Nina, on the other hand, simply wiped the water off her face when she got out of the water. No deep gulps of air for her.
“Amateur, all the way to my sand encrusted toes,” she said, overbright with teasing, her pitch rising with each word.
“Cheeky and sassy,” I replied, with a light quickness and a short teasing chuckle. She was bringing out my bantering spirit.
“Neither applies to me, Adrian the fourth.”
“I disagree.”
“You have no grounds on which to disagree.”
“No need to go back and forth on this,” I replied with a cool smile, willing to let her win this round.
“True,” she agreed. “So tell me, how often do you work out when you are on the island?”
“Every day, but I won”t have time on the day of the party because my mother will expect to have me nearby when the guests arrive.”
“You don’t sound excited about the prospect,” she said with an understanding smile. Isn’t the party on Saturday about you?”
“Don’t remind me of the real reason for my being here.”
“Oh, it’s like that. Then why are you here early?” she asked, her tone sympathetic.
“I needed alone time. I needed to hear myself think about my family responsibilities,” I said with a strained voice.
My pulse throbbed in my ears and my stomach tightened as my mind filled with the decision my parents were forcing me to make.
“Nina, tell me, would you allow your parents to choose your spouse, to choose when you marry?” The volume of my voice faded in and out as I fought to speak. It was so hard to say it aloud.
She raised her hands above her head. “Hold up,” she said, the disbelief heavy in her voice. “Those are some heavy questions you just asked.”
“Welcome to my heavy world.”
“My short answer is no,” she said with conviction. “However, I will never know since my parents are dead. Although my grandparents may try through unobtrusive means.”
“I am sorry to hear about your parents. What happened?”
“I was thirteen. They were on a flight from one African country to another and their plane crashed.”
“In Africa?”
“Yes, my father was an economist with the International Monetary Fund. My mother was also an economist, but she lectured at Georgetown University. She’d accompany him on his mission trips whenever she was off work in any given term. Sometimes I’d accompany them. They had decided not to bring me along on the short trip. And that’s what started my journey to the present, shivering with cold and covered in goose bumps on this golden sand.”
“I am so sorry, Nina. What a dreadful experience to have had at thirteen.”
“It was hard in the beginning. But the pain has dulled over time.”
“Okay, I sense there’s a lot to you, Nina. I want to hear the rest of your story,” I responded without hesitation. “But first, I challenge you to a timed footrace in the sand, with a sandbag on the shoulders, that will be sure to warm you up.”
“Adrian, Adrian, Adrian. You can’t let go that you were beaten to a guava pulp.” She laughed, and it was rich melodious music. The kind of laugh to wipe away worries and cares about legacies. The kind of laugh to replace dread with joy. The kind of laugh I would want to hear forever.
But I couldn’t tell her that—yet. Instead, I smiled sheepishly and responded, “I am devastated. My male ego lies in tatters in these sands.”
“Since you are so inclined to boost up your male ego, I will agree to this re-match in the sand. How many yards do you want to do?”
“I will go easy on you,” I said, laughing. “A hundred yards.”
She gave me a side-eye look.
“It will be over before we begin.” I handed her a bag of sand and then took up my own. “We will use my watch.”
“Okay, Mr. Crossfit Timer,” she said in an upbeat tone. “Bring it on.” She rested her bag on her shoulders and bent in the start position.
I set my watch to countdown to our start time and readied myself with my bag of sand and, at the beep, we were off. I went off like a bullet and got to the log way before Nina.
She came up behind me huffing and puffing. “Okay, smart guy,” she said between heavy gasps of breath. “I walked right into your trap. Take this win. Rest assured it will be the last time you win.” Her voice was dripping with mock gravity.
I threw my head back and laughed. “Bring on whatever you’ve got. I’ll be ready.”
She shook her head and started walking back along the sand to the gates of the property. The sun was loading its yellow warmth over the island. Sweat dripped from my body, while Nina’s glistened. It was going to be another hot day in Nassau. Nina trudged through the sand, determined, it seemed, to get away from me. I wasn’t ready to end our time together. “Nina, would you like to join me for breakfast?”
“Some people have to work,” she called over her shoulder.
I ran to catch up with her. And there on the path coming in our direction was Chef Dominique.
“There you are, Chef Nina. I’ve been waiting for you in the kitchen and you are out here frolicking on the beach,” he gritted out, rough and angry.
“She’s with me, as you can see, Chef Dominique,” I barked at him.
He had the audacity to glare at me and said, “I would be wise if I were you.”
By this time, Nina was off and running on the path to her apartment.
I glared back at him, eyeball to eyeball.
“I would be wiser, if I were you, Chef Dominique,” I said, quiet but firm.
I walked away from him with hurried steps toward Nina’s apartment. The staff apartments. I’d never been near them before, and here I was running towards Nina’s to set up our next challenge.
Right.
I knocked on the door of her apartment seconds after Nina closed it. She opened the door and the shock on her face spooked me. Was I the only one picking up the growing tension between us?
I smiled at her while my thoughts swirled. What was I doing here? Remember your vow. Remember your heartache. Remember your pending time limit to choose a wife.
I threw the gloomy thoughts out of my mind. I looked into her eyes and she looked into mine. For seconds our eyes danced in the age-old dance to know, to seek, to find. Knock and it shall be opened. Seek and you shall find. Ask and it shall be given. Those words from the Bible fleeted through my mind while I smiled at her. Wet skin and golden sand on our feet were forgotten.
“I enjoyed our morning swim meet and footrace. I enjoyed our talk. I enjoyed spending time with you and getting to know you better.”
“Me too,” she responded in a whisper.
“Can we do it again, tomorrow?” I asked, aware that I sounded desperate as I said it.
“Adrian, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I work here. Chef Dominique is already mad. We have a party menu to execute.”
“Yes, it’s my party, remember.”
“Yes, but we answer to your mother. I have tons of cakes, petit fours, roses, calla lilies, gavels, legal balances and Watkins and Williams crests to make.”
“Meet me for lunch,” I blurted out in response to her to-do list.
Exasperated, she responded, “Didn’t you just hear me say how busy I am?”
If possible, she looked cuter, all flushed and irritated.
“But you must eat. When is your lunch hour today?”
“I don’t have one,” she shrieked.
“Then I am giving you a lunch hour today. Meet me on the patio for lunch. If you don’t show up, I will fetch you from the kitchen. If you refuse to come with me, I will lift you up in front of Chef Dominique and carry you out of the kitchen.”
“You are a crazy man,” she said and laughed with abandonment. Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks bloomed and her dimples showed up and danced.
“Beautiful Nina. Say yes,” I persisted.
Her smile vanished. “Do you have a rebellious streak, Adrian?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will have lunch with you. Now goodbye, before my real employers fire me for negligence, and Chef Dominique arrives spewing fire from his mouth.”
I laughed aloud, the sound bubbling up my throat which was earlier tight with tension.
She closed the door in my face and I walked away with a large smile and a little dance.
My heart liked my new friend Nina, the baker.