My friend and I talked into the early morning hours. We were children again, over indulging in alcohol, laughing at our own dumb jokes and talking about men. I didn't mention Todd, nor did I mention my two, very brief marriages. I let her believe there had been a three-year, steady relationship gap, which I filled with meaningless sex with a very select few.
I mostly listened to her "tales of trampery," those were her words, not mine. She loved her life, something I'd never learned to do, even though I had more money than I could spend in my lifetime. I don't recall ever being so content with my life and I was slightly envious of her happiness.
I was the one who dozed first; she swore I was snoring, and I would wake up and started talking as if I hadn't so much as blinked my eyes. I swear, I may have been sleeping, but her mouth never stopped moving. It never ceased to amaze me how much she could talk without bothering to take a breath.
"Girl, I'm gonna get outta here; I've gotta be to work in three hours."
My head almost spun around. "What?"
"Yeah, some of us have to work for a living."
I walked her to the door, gave her a quick hug then flung myself into my bed. I don't think it took more than five minutes for me to fall into a deep sleep. Surprisingly, I slept straight through the rest of the night.
*****
I'm not sure which I hated more, going to bed alone, or waking up alone. Both seemed so incredibly lonely; neither was a particularly appealing option. I rolled over in my king sized bed, which was really going to waste, and looked over at my clock. Ugh, I thought, time to go to work already?
I move like a turtle in the morning. I slide my tired, socked feet across my polished wood floor and into the kitchen, where I brew eight cups of Puerto Rican coffee. Normally, I brew about half of that, but-
Woah, what the hell is going on?
I reach blindly for the counter and grip it tightly for balance. The soft fluorescent lighting in the kitchen, god, it's trying to reach through the front of my head and rip my brain out. I don't know what's going on, but I have to lie down.
*****
It was another hour before I rolled out of bed for the second time that day. I seem to be feeling better, though I am a little freaked by the whole incident. It is time to move on, so I rush to get ready, skip my morning trip to the coffee shop, and head straight to my office.
*****
My right arm, that's her nickname, Jasmine is already hard at work by the time her lazy boss comes rushing through the door. "Morning," I say, sounding irritable even to myself.
"Morning, boss. A Dr. Morgan called and said you'd have to re-schedule. Other than that, it's been quiet so far."
"Good." A temporary reprieve. I walk into my office, only to see she has been very busy while I was away. The case files, which, I must confess, were left in shameless disarray, are neatly stacked near the corner of my desk.
"Hey, Jasmine," I yell, "thanks for putting this crap in order."
"No problem," she yells back.
Jasmine, or Jazz as she preferred to be called, was an interesting character. The first day she strolled into my office, popping her gum with her hair in some wild, pointy hairdo and her headphones dangling from her neck. Of all the ads that'd been placed in that Sunday's "Times," she had to answer mine.
There was something different about her, other than her eccentric appearance. The other people I'd interviewed were something I always hated…pretentious. She came in with nothing more than a real New York attitude that screamed, "here I am! Love me, hate me, I don't give a fuck." I hired her on the spot.
That was almost a year ago and she hadn't missed one day of work, nor had she been one second late. She may have listened to her headphones all day, every day, but she was the most efficient person I'd ever known. I made a mental note to put something extra in her check; I can do things like that since I'm the boss.
I mechanically flipped through the client files, carefully making notes of legal loopholes, which could help my cases. This is what I love about practicing law. It's almost like a game to me. See, I go back and review the laws, sort of critiquing the work of other great legal minds. I dig through the verbiage, looking for their mistake. When I find it, I flip it around an use it to help my clients. It's almost a battle of the wits, which, more often then not, I win.
I don't notice the time slipping away, but when I look up, it is already five o'clock. I put my overworked pen on the desk, and listen to Miss Jazz packing up her things for the day. She wastes no time getting in or out of this place; can't say that I blame her.
She peaked her face in, piercings and all, wishing me a good night. I wished her the same, oddly curious about where she went during the after work hours. She had changed out of her casual wear, and into a pair of well-worn, brown leather pants and a short, brown sweater. Somehow, she seemed younger dressed like that, younger and happier.
I heard the heavy glass door close behind her, and suddenly, it was just me again. I don't think I like myself very much; the thought of spending the rest of my evening alone, well, it terrifies me. I know I'm not supposed to have any weaknesses, but being alone is my greatest fear.
I dial Carlotta's number, not to talk to her, but to Antonio. This is a little difficult to explain, but I sometimes just need to hear a man's voice. It can be any man, but the sound of it awakens something within me.
My father and I could go days, weeks even, without saying two words to one another. I never felt safe in our home and my brothers, Del especially, knew of my fears. They would talk to me, late into the night, until I fell asleep. It followed me; that need to hear a male voice, well into my adulthood. So, here I am, sitting back in my comfortable chair, waiting for Antonio to answer.
"'Hello," he answered, sounding like his old self.
"'Tonio, it's Tea."
"Tea! Ooooh, Mami is mad at you."
I took a mental inventory of everything I could've done to piss her off. It dawned on me that she expected me to tell her all about Todd and what happened between us while I was in Llanview. I swear, sometimes she made me feel like a child, chastised by the nosey mother who had to know about every aspect of my public and private life. "How mad is she?"
"Spanish cursing."
"Shit," I said, knowing I was on her "list." There was nothing I could do about it, so I take a breath and change the subject. "How are you feeling?"
"Better."
"Good. When are you going back to work?"
"Well, the doctor said to give it at least another two weeks and then maybe I can go back on light duty."
"So, in a week, you'll be back on full duty, right?" I joked, knowing that's probably exactly what would happen.
"Something like that."
We talked for a bit longer, then I started hearing the strain in his voice. I politely told him I would be in touch, and ended the conversation. I felt good again, rejuvenated by the sound of a familiar and friendly voice.
*****
It has been a good day. I know I should call Dr. Morgan, but one more day won't hurt. I admit it; I am putting this off so I can pretend that I am a normal, healthy woman. I have a hard time accepting not only my imperfections, but my shortcomings as well; that includes illness.
I close my last file, lock my fingers behind my head and think about what I will do with the rest of my night. It is still early for me, seven o'clock to be exact. Here I am in the greatest city in the world with nothing to do.
Something weird happens when your work becomes your entire world. When it's not there, you get lost. At least that's the way it works for me.
Things are going to change for me. As much as I love my work, I have yet to find a balance between my work and personal life. Up until now, I really didn't feel like I was missing out on anything, but now that there's something going on within me, something I can't control, I feel this need to experience everything.
Take Jasmine for instance, she has two very different lives and she keeps them separate. She never seems to miss out on anything, unlike me, who missed out on everything. I have to ask her how she managed to lead a double life.
*****
I walk into my apartment, looking around, as if expecting someone to be there to greet me. I listen to my messages as I change into something more comfortable. I nearly drop the phone when I hear the voice of Rachel Gannnon.
"Hey, girl…long time, no see. I'm in the Big Apple and I thought, maybe you'd wanna see your old roomie. I'm at the Essex, give me a ring when you can," and she left the number.
I call the hotel immediately, nearly unable to contain my excitement. "Rachel Gannon, room 1814."
The operator connected me; the phone seemed to ring forever. When a male voice answers, a deep male voice, I thought I had the wrong room.
"Hello?"
"Uh, hello, is this Rachel Gannon's room?"
"Yup, hold on."
I hear some rustling on the other end. Finally, she answers, sounding out of breath and happy. "This is Rachel."
