I don't know why I agreed to it. I loved living with Rachel, but times are so different now; we're older and we both need our space. Plus, there's too much hurt between us, too many bitter feelings, at least coming from me. There is a negative force field between us where both positive and negative energy bounce around between us. I wanted to say no, I should have said no, but when I opened my mouth, the word "yes" came out.
I would never admit this to anyone, but, should anything happen to me I'd rather not be alone. I have visions of myself, lying on the cold, wet, marbled floor of my bathroom, in so much agony, dying and having no one there to hear my final words. There'd be no one there to help and eventually I'd give up because no one would come; that would be the end of me. So maybe this arrangement will ease some of the pressure that's wrapped around my heart.
I have a spare bedroom that I haven't bothered to decorate. If you ask me, I'd probably say I haven't had time, but it's on my ever expanding "to do" list. I have a deeper, more personal reason though. In the back of my mind, I think that maybe it could be Starr's room if her father and I ever manage to get it together. I know I have to stop being so optimistic, or maybe the right word is delusional, because Todd, well, we've caused each other so much pain and we keep doing it, yet we keep coming back to each other. It's a sick relationship; almost all the relationships in my life, romantic or otherwise, are sick.
Rachel claims she'll have her "junk," as Todd would say, here by noon. We are talking about Rachel, who does go by her own clock, so I expect her to arrive around three. That gives me enough time to actually get some work done before I have to meet her at the apartment.
Jazz is doing her thing listening to God knows what in her headphones and I'm locked in my office with my glasses on and a pile of books in front of me. Yes, I have returned to glasses, the doctor thinks maybe my contacts could be causing some of my issues, "perhaps it will solve our dizziness problem," she said, as if she's right there with me every step of the way.
No more of those depressing thoughts. I've read countless times where the power of positive thinking is an unproven medical miracle. I am a bit skeptical, considering the only miracles I believe in are those are from God, and She's been letting me down as of late. It can't hurt though, not at this point.
There's a case that I'm working on, very intriguing. My client was originally arrested for shoplifting, which he swears he did not do. Like any scared kid, he decided it would be a great idea to pull away from a police officer as he was being arrested. In the struggle that ensued, he proceeded to get an ass kicking which was not only uncalled for, but far beyond the force necessary to subdue the suspect. The police have charged him with resisting arrest, assaulting an officer and shoplifting.
The attraction to this case is very simple; he is a young African American man, trying to repair his life after an accident took his mother. That officer took something away from this kid, his ticket to a better life. In an error of judgment, his leg was broken in several places and his promising basketball career was a thing of the past.
I wasn't going to take the case, not at first, but after talking to him for five minutes, I was willing to do just about anything to help. He was in with the wrong crowd; that was his greatest mistake. When I first took the case, I threw myself into it head first, but I'm finding I just don't have the energy it deserves. But there's this thing that drives me, this knowing that he really doesn't have anyone to fight for him and that's what gives me the energy to continue.
This may seem selfish, but this case can make my career and even though I'm thriving as an attorney, I'm finding that I want more; I want my cases to be studied by law students. I'm going against the whole blue wall of silence and, call me crazy, but that excites me beyond belief. I keep going, pretending that I'm not sick, but I know I probably can't give it my all; that's what pisses me off.
My life has been filled with countless inconsistencies, from my mother's death to the plethora of boyfriends I have left in my past. The one constant in my life has been my mind, the way it functions and holds more than most people can imagine. I suppose that's why, these days, I feel most at ease when I'm working.
"There's a Viki Carpenter on the phone for you," Jazz yells through the intercom.
"Okay, I'll take it." I must say I've been expecting this call for quite some time. "Hello, Viki."
"Hello, Tea. You left town so quickly, I didn't have a chance to say goodbye."
"Antonio was doing well and I really needed to get back to work. How are things with you?"
"I'm doing. I'm doing well indeed."
A long silence passes. "So, what can I do for you?"
"Well, I'm going to be in town for a conference next week and I thought, perhaps we can get together for dinner? Or even lunch?"
"I'd love to."
We set something up for the following week. I knew there was more to this then what she was letting on, but I decide to just be patient. Viki is nosey, very nosey, but I don't think this has anything to do with Todd. I think she, along with the rest of the world, excluding Todd and me, realize things are over between us, which makes me even more intrigued.
*****
"Hey, Rach," I say, just as she steps off the elevator. I look at my watch and smile to myself.
"What's funny?" she asks, laughing right along with me.
"I'm only five minutes off."
"You're more than a little off," she jokes. "Seriously, what's funny?"
"I predicted you'd get here around three, since you promised to get here by noon."
"Honey," she sasses, "I go by c.p. time."
We laugh at her joke; it is beginning to seem like old times. "Come on, let's get you settled."
We scatter her things in her new bedroom, even though there is no furniture. She only brought a couple of suitcases; I know that can't be it. "Okay, Gannon, are we on hidden camera or something?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Where are the rest of your clothes? Better yet, where are your shoes?"
"I'm seriously starting over and you know what that means?"
"Shopping!" we yell simultaneously.
*****
I love to shop. I don't care what I'm shopping for; as long as I'm able to spend money on the latest and greatest of everything, I'm in heaven. What I cannot stand are 5th Avenue window shoppers who stop in the middle of the sidewalk, admiring the window displays while causing multi-person pile ups.
New York automobile traffic is maddening; 5th Ave. pedestrian traffic is insanity. It's not so much the natives; it's the tourists who must stop in front of every store to snap pictures that drive the real shoppers nuts. Although those things bother me, there's nothing like shopping on that strip in New York for hours and hours.
We hit all the big stores, running up astronomical credit card bills in the process. We act like teenagers, laughing and giggling as we try on, and sometimes even purchase things we'll never wear. For a little while, I am able to forget about everything other than the present.
*****
"My father's going to kill me," Rachel says, just as we sit down to dinner.
"I'm sure Hank won't be too upset at his baby girl."
"Baby girl my ass, he's going to have some words for me."
"Aw, bat your lashes and promise to never do it again."
"Oh, I am."
Dinner is nice, but quiet. We share a few laughs, memories, all in all, we enjoy ourselves. I have to admit, I am checking her out in a non-sexual way. You know how, when you haven't seen someone in a long time, you sit back and try to figure out how much they've changed? That's what I am doing with Rachel.
She has a layer of sadness; I should say another layer of sadness. She is more guarded, quieter, more introverted. These things aren't necessarily bad, just different. I remember when she used to be the one who did all the talking, now we have to search for things to say to one another.
I can only imagine what she's thinking about me; probably no worse than my own thoughts. I know I've lost weight and my face is slightly thinner; those are probably the only physical changes she can see. What she can't see is the pierced naval, courtesy of a drunken night, shortly after I left Todd.
Has it been two years already? It's unreal how quickly time passes and how, in all that time, not much has changed. I am still all alone and seeking a light at the end of the tunnel that I'm not sure I believe in.
"Earth to Tea." Rachel is looking at me like I was crazy. I snap out of it long enough to give her a smile.
"Sorry about that."
"S'ok. You want dessert?"
I rub my aching tummy and shake my head. "I don't think I can fit another bite in this thing."
"More for me!" She exclaims. "I'll have a double fudge brownie," she tells the waiter.
"God, you're going to be sick."
"Cast iron stomach."
"Remember that when you're vomiting all night long."
One thing hasn't changed, the girl can still eat. When were both single, we used to stay up practically all night, eating junk food and talking about men. I must be unconsciously smiling because she is staring at me. "What?" I ask.
"We really ought to weigh a ton by now," she observes, taking a huge bite out of her brownie.
"Especially you, 'Eat 'Em Up.'" We both start cracking up at my use of her nickname.
Rachel finishes her meal while I watched in horror. That girl's stomach must be made of elastic the way it stretches and snaps back to its natural, flat state. I think back to a time when I did nothing but pig out on junk food, but that was from a depression that ran so deep, it coursed through my veins as if it was part of my blood.
I had left Todd, let me rephrase, I attempted to leave Todd and ran straight to Rachel's, where I indulged myself in nearly a dozen chocolate chip cookies, my favorites. He found me that night and I went back, that night. Seems no matter how far I run from him, he's always right here with me.
"I'm all done, roomie. You ready to get out of here."
