Will you still feel like my favorite blanket?
The one you left behind
To keep me warm in the absence of you.
Day 371
Me: I’m nervous.
And then I send another to clarify.
Me: To see you.
I don’t expect an immediate response from him and am pleasantly surprised when I receive one.
Gavin: Don’t be.
Me: Easy for you to say.
I push my phone into my back pocket and glance around. The store is in immaculate shape, finally. Accessories are in order, shoes are displayed neatly, and the clothes look magnificent.
I stand beside the store’s manager, Paula.
“You done good, girlie,” she says and touches the end of my high ponytail. “Hairs getting long. I’m surprised you haven’t cut it yet.”
My shoulders move in a halfway shrug.
“I kind of like it.”
She chuckles.
“Never took you for the long-haired type.”
I turn to her, my features scrunched together.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Her brown skin is clear, and her locks have these gold embellishments that make me think of an African queen. She’s taller than me, which isn’t hard to be, and her slim frame makes me wonder why she never went into modeling.
“Just that you’ve always cut it before it got this long. You don’t seem like you have the patience for this look.”
It’s true that longer hair takes more time to manage, but I love the way I look with it longer.
Softer. More feminine.
“I’ve seen the error of my ways,” I tell her with a grin.
“Good. It looks great on you.” She looks around the store. There are only a few customers perusing through the merchandise. “I think we’re doing all right here, right?”
This isn’t a busy location and I’ve heard rumblings from the higher-ups about a possible closing or relocation.
“Ever think about transferring?” I know she’d do well in a high-traffic area. The girls here look up to her, with her quiet authority and her easy-going manner.
She sighs and pushes her long locks from one shoulder to the other.
“I know it’s pretty slow. But this is home and I have such a great team.”
We chat a little more but all the while I’m thinking, of all the stores I have, she was likely the best store manager. She genuinely cares about her staff and it shows. I never have any issues when I come here.
Because of the lack of earning, I wasn’t out this way often. The company thought it best to keep me in the popular areas, where the styles were everchanging and women were always looking for their next look.
She’s walked away to speak with one of her employees when I pull my phone out.
Gavin: I hope we get some time together to talk.
A pit settles in my stomach.
I don’t know if I’m ready for that talk quite yet.
Me: You sure you want to do that?
Gavin: You don’t scare me, Denise.
I can hear him say those words in my ear. And it’s so unlike the times before when he’d whisper the opposite to me.
You scare me.
Why?
Because you’re so good.
When did that change? I wish I could ask him, but I already know the answer.
It changed when we realized we wouldn’t have forever. When we finally woke up and realized that just because we love each other, didn’t mean we would come out of this clean.
I sigh and when a hand touches my shoulder, I yelp.
“Sorry,” Paula says.
“Scared the shit out of me.”
“I called your name a few times,” she tells me. “You okay?”
There comes a moment in everyone’s life when someone asks them if they’re okay. The askee has a split second and in that moment, they have to decide whether or not they want to unload everything on a complete stranger. And while the person asking me isn’t a complete stranger, we hadn’t ever gotten too personal before.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t been asked this question by others. But with her in particular, I was tempted.
I look at Paula, with her kind eyes and her small smile. And then I glance past her and see her employee waiting behind her and I decide.
“Yeah. I’m just a little tired.”
I shake off the exhausting emotions and head toward the back to retrieve my things. It wasn’t like I had much time for chatting. Sabrina let me borrow her car, the one she rarely uses as she deigns to drive in the city, so I didn’t have to navigate through the flawed public transportation when it came to Mattapan.
With my things in one hand, I wave at Paula with my free hand and make my way outside. The sun is shining, piercing through the clouds and making me remember warmer times.
Making me remember a trip I took with Gavin to Toronto.
The sex, the drizzle, the tequila, his drunken insistence that I was in love with him.
I unlock Sabrina’s car, a cute little sporty thing, bright red and terrible on gas.
My phone is in my back pocket and I take it out to sit in the driver’s seat.
The car starts quietly when I press the button, loving that I don’t have to bother with turning a key. When I check my phone, I see a text message.
Gavin: I’m about to board.
Me: Have a safe flight.
I pull away from the parking spot and onto the street. There isn’t traffic today and I’m lost in thought as I make my way to Sabrina’s apartment.
Gavin’s on his way here.
The flutters in my stomach go from nerves to excitement and back again. Because who knows what I’ll be faced with when I see him.
And I wondered if we’d be able to pick up as if no time had happened.
I stop at a stoplight and take a deep breath.
But did I want that?
For my hurt to be shoved aside and ignored like it meant nothing?
Of course not.
And so, we fought.
Traffic builds up the closer I get to downtown and I miss my neck of the woods in North End.
When I make it to Sabrina’s apartment, miraculously finding a spot nearly in front of her building, I see her standing at her door, phone to her ear. I get out of the car, grab my things, and press her key fob a few times, making sure the doors are locked.
“If you’re wanting to keep the white walls, and I wholeheartedly agree with the idea that it looks much cleaner, we’re going to want to invest in some art work, Mrs. Chapman.” She rolls her eyes as she holds the door open for me. We climb two flights of stairs, all while she talks to her client.
“I can certainly carve time out to visit a few galleries with you. But, tomorrow is a little short no—”
I can hear the woman on the other line, her voice sounding shrill and words blurring together. Sabrina sits on one of her gray upholstered dining chairs and sets her elbow on the wooden table top. As the woman continues, she braces her forehead with her palm.
“Well, Mrs. Chapman, I have to be cognizant of the time I’ve booked with others. I’d hate to cancel with another client for you, seeing as I’ve never canceled with you for another client.”
More shrill sounds and Sabrina attempting to be firm.
In the end, Mrs. Chapman booked her outside her normal hours for double the fee.
“Okay. Yes. Sounds great. I’ll see you tomorrow night at six thirty. Yes, good night.”
Sabrina sighs and tosses her phone onto the table.
“Pain in my fucking ass.” She snatches up the phone quickly and looks at the screen to make sure Mrs. Chapman is off the line before continuing. “I would never cancel with another client for her. How fucking rude and entitled.”
“Handled it like a champ, though.”
Her chair slides against the hardwood floor a little when she leans back and stretches her feet out.
“It was easy to once she offered to pay double.” Her hands cover her eyes as she continues. “I don’t want to lose her as a client, since she’s one of my biggest. But I also don’t want to lose any others I have because while she has larger projects and demands more of my time, the other clients fill my pockets when people like Mrs. Chapman don’t need me for a while.”
I nod and glance around her perfect apartment.
Not a pillow, throw blanket, or magazine out of order.
The entire place has a gray scale with pops of color here and there. I always loved how she managed to make it look picture ready. Most times, my place looked like it needed a quick pick up, at least. It was never gross, but it certainly looked lived in, unlike Sabrina’s apartment.
When I look at Sabrina, she’s still sitting there with her elbows on the arms of the chair, fingers pressed to her forehead.
“He’s on his way?” She sniffs and looks over at me, her shoulders a little more relaxed, her eyes tired.
“Mhm.” I set her keys in the dish by the front door and place my bags on her sofa.
“Do I need to be worried?”
“About what?” My body hits her sofa with force and I grab her remote.
“My furniture, for one. Secondly, for you.”
My eyes are focused on the TV as I flip through channels. I’m about to answer when something flies through the air and hits me on the side of my face.
“What the fuck?” I yell and grab the slipper that fell on my lap. “You’re such a psycho.”
“And you’re rude.”
I throw the slipper back at her and it hits her on her shoulder.
“The only thing you need to be worried about is if I’m going to kill you in your sleep,” I exclaim.
She drops her slipper on the floor and gets up from the table with a crazy grin.
“Whatever.” When she plops next to me on the sofa and tucks her bare feet under my butt, I try to push them away. The dedicated gym goer in her isn’t having it and I give up. “What’s your plan?”
“What are you talking about?”
She grunts a laugh out while I train my eyes on the TV, willing her to be quiet about it.
“I know you better than anyone in the world. Including that dipshit. So, I know that you already have an idea in your head of how you’d like things to go.”
The trashy reality show playing does nothing to quiet Sabrina or the thoughts swirling round and round in my head, like circling a drain.
“Can we just leave it alone?”
From the corner of my eye, I can see her looking at me, like she wants to prod more. But I just wanted a little peace.
“Fine.” She adjusts, and we watch the show in silence.
Before I know it, it’s dark out and my stomach is rumbling.
“Someone’s hungry.” Sabrina pats my thigh and stands. I look at her as she heads to the kitchen. “What do you want?”
“What are our options?” I ask from my seat on the couch. I stretch and yawn before pulling my ankle boots off and walking into the kitchen.
Sabrina’s going through her take-out menus and I shake my head with a laugh.
“Why don’t you cook?”
She shakes her head and I open her fridge.
“Seriously, there’s plenty of food here.”
Sabrina is still shuffling through menus when I open the freezer and find chicken.
“Remember that baked chicken you used to make?”
I’m about to pull the frozen meat from the freezer when Sabrina hits the door with her hip, closing it and nearly hitting my hand with the door.
“What the hell, dude?”
“I don’t want to cook unless I absolutely have to.” She hands me two menus she’s settled on. “Pick one.”
Lebanese and Italian. I mutter that I don’t know why she won’t just cook under my breath as I glance over the menus.
“I spent a large part of my life cooking for us whenever there was food in that tiny-ass apartment.” She hops on the counter and tucks her feet under her. “Cooking isn’t something I was ever able to do for pleasure. So, it’s not something I like to do now that I don’t have to.”
I hand her the Italian menu and tell her to order the scampi with light sauce for me.
She calls it in and when she hangs up, looks at me.
“What?” I lean against the kitchen doorway and cross my arms.
“I think we aren’t as fucked-up as we could’ve been,” she says.
I pause and smile.
“This is true.”
“Even if you don’t want to be one hundred percent open and honest with me.” She hops off the counter with a grin and I chuckle.
“What do you want me to say?” I ask as I follow her into her bedroom. “That I have this idea that he’ll want to see me as soon as he gets here? That even though he’s coming here for his sister, he’ll still manage to make me feel like I’m not as alone as I’ve been since he left?”
“Whoa, buddy. You’ve had me all along,” she says as she opens her dresser drawer. Her furniture is all reflective, mirrors on most surfaces. It’s amazing she can keep things smudge-less.
“But it’s different . . .”
“Because it wasn’t my baby.”
My sadness reflects back at me.
“It was never your responsibility to make sure I was okay.”
She shakes her head and looks back at me.
“You’re so wrong, it’s fucked-up.” She pushes the drawer shut, underwear and bra in hand. “I am a forever thing, shorty. He is someone who will be here when he wants to be. There’s nothing keeping him here.”
I laugh but it’s sad and suddenly, there are tears.
“But why wouldn’t he want to be?”
Because for all the bad I’d given, there were still moments of magic, still so much good I’d offered.
She drops her things on her bed and takes my face in her hands.
“Men aren’t as strong as we are, I guess.” She presses her fingers under my eyes and wipes my tears away. “Things got hard and he didn’t feel like he had to do this anymore.”
I shake my head and try to pull away, but she won’t let me.
“You know you can give me anything. I can handle you. But . . . you trusted that if you gave him your worst, he’d weather that storm.” Her eyes are shining as they look directly into mine. “It isn’t your fault that he wasn’t able to take on that task.”
I sniff and nod. Her eyes are still drilling into mine and I can’t handle how intense this is getting, so I stare at the floor.
“He said he hopes we get time together to talk.”
“He couldn’t just make solid plans to ensure it happens?” She closes her eyes for a second, as if she’s trying to get herself together. “Just do me a favor?” she asks as she lets me go.
I look back up at her.
“Don’t forget. Don’t get caught up in how good it feels when he’s back. As good as it is when he’s here, that’s how bad it was when he was gone.”
Sabrina grabs her things and heads toward her bathroom.
She can’t see as I nod my head and take a deep breath.
I’d try to be strong.
It’s only fair to the person who’d cleaned up the mess Gavin left behind.