My eyes' focus moved from the sunset to a couple across the street. They were walking slowly but steady enough to keep each others pace. His arm rested comfortably her shoulder while both her arms were gripped tightly around his waist. She looked up at him smiling and talking. His eyes were straightforward but he smiled too. His feet stopped and so did hers. He finagled something out of his pocket that I saw was a cell phone. He answered the call while her eyes watched him intently, still smiling. The woman gently rubbed his face in a sweeping motion, as if to get something off of his face. The man hung up and they assumed their previous positions, slow and steady walking with no intentional destination. Abruptly the couple stopped. The man leaned back in laughter. The woman's mouth was wide open. She then put her hand over her mouth to collect herself. I laughed out loud too, the contagiousness of their joy spilling over from across the street.
They walked and laughed, laughed and walked, still in a strong embrace along Long Street.
"Who's that girl?"
Back to reality. Lydia was sitting in front of her, taking off her jacket, out of breathe.
I was embarrassed she had caught me admiring strangers. I instead pretended I had been reading. It was Lydia's turn to laugh--at my overly-dramatic cover up Still, she didn't say anything directly to me. I closed the magazine and opened my laptop. Lydia followed suite and we immediately started to engage in an intense conversation filled with words like deadlines, edits, proofs, signings and illustrations.
Precision's community program was beginning to take flight. The youth and adult students were engaged in literacy courses, some 35 active participants. We were exploring a project where our students wrote their own stories to which we would publish and create a compilation book to showcase their writings. Not only would the students feel empowered with an advanced level of reading and comprehension; they would also be published writers. I was reading through an email from a sponsor when my phone alerted me to a text message.
I see you.
Simply stated. I grimaced while chills appeared on my forearms. My back straightened and my body temperature rose. I knew he was here without looking around. He always found a way to find me. And not in a romantic storybook character turned reality type of way---in a creepy, intrusive, uninviting way.
It has been nine months since the awards debacle, eight months since me and Troy's breakup. There were four threats of suicide, one that materialized. The view from Troy's hospital room had perplexed me. He was sedated and serene that evening when I arrived. It was a far cry from the aggressive and impulsive behavior I had been used to from him. Because he had named me as his emergency contact, I was privy to all procedures done during his stay. Severe depression was his diagnosis. To my surprise, this was not Troy's first time at a suicide attempt. I did not bother to tell the doctors about the abuse I had endured at his hand--Troy had volunteered that information. Four days later he left the hospital with medication and a start date to begin domestic violence classes at a local community center.
It was the latter that he used in an effort to win back my dedication to him. But I could not let him in the way he wanted. After making sure he was aware of how and when to take his medicine, and when his classes would begin, I quickly made my exit from his apartment. He asked me to stay and I repeatedly told him no. He then repeatedly responded to with obscenities and other berating comments. I walked out of his apartments with Troy in tears. I closed the door and cried too. Looking back I wasn't sure if I had cried for my sake or his. Troy was sick and who would help him if I didn't?
It was after the hospital stay that he would pop up on me at random places and times. Sometimes he'd show up in person. Other times, he'd send something to let me know he was around. Flowers, candy, drinks to my table, letters by way of a waitress--any remnant of a clue to remind me that his mind was full of me. They came weeks a apart from each other. Once I started to get comfortable, that his trail for me had weakened or that his grip on reality was stronger, an uncomfortable reminder would pop up. And so it was today: a text message. I knew if I looked around, I wouldn't see him. Troy's ways were not overt.
Lydia had noticed me flinch and quickly grabbed my cell phone.
Her eyes widened.
"You're still talking to this clown?" she asked, her voice louder than I would have liked.
"No," I started. "I mean, yes. Kind of," my voice trailed off. It was true that I didn't actively engage in conversation with Troy. But it was also true that I had not completely cut him off. I felt sorry for him. And he needed me.
"Naomi, wake up," Lydia said.
My brows furrowed at her directness.
"What is David going to say?"
There was a different bodily reaction at the mention of David's name. A sort of heart flutter followed by a backwards somersault in my tummy. My chest thumped quickly when I saw him coming our way.
"What's David going to say about what?" he asked before leaning in to kiss my cheek.
Lydia sat back, still holding my phone, looking directly in my eyes. Her head cocked to the side and her eyes widened even more.
"That I just texted you," It was Troy's voice from behind me.
My back was to the entrance, I had not seen him come in. He kissed me on the same cheek, his hands around my shoulder from behind. The muscles tightened in my back even more.
David's eyes were solely on Troy but his words addressed me.
"Who's this Naomi?"
Troy answered for me, saying he was a friend before I could make proper introductions. Troy held out his hand for a handshake and David relented. David's brows furrowed, then relaxed, then furrowed again. Troy was his usual charismatic and mysterious self, reminiscent of the first night I met him while at dinner with my brother. Troy made up a story about him being in the area and seeing me from across the street, then playfully texting me to let me know he saw me.
"Well, I don't want to interrupt. I just wanted to say hi. Lydia, it's good seeing you--"
"It's never good to see you Troy. And yes you were interrupting. Goodbye," her tone was light, airy and direct.
Troy turned his back to leave then came back, walking backwards.
"I'll see you later?" he said to me.
"Yea, maybe," I said.
Troy was there and gone so quickly it seemed like a mirage, a faintness of an image she had daydreamed.
David asked questions that I answered with lies. Lies because I wasn't ready to face the truth nor was I ready to present to him my flaws in all their tainted glory. I'd come to know David through my work on the community program with Precision. He was funny, sensitive, street-smart, polite and direct. I was enjoying my time with him. It was easy and non-assuming. And he seemed to enjoy his time with me: he did not interrupt me, encouraged me to expand on my opinions and even gave me compliments. It had taken some time for me to get used what my voice sounded like but I was beginning to get used to it.
That Friday night ended with the usual. A few hours leisurely spent with David--this time hooking up with his friends at a wine tasting at a local restaurant downtown. Then, I stopped at Nida's for a takeout order for two. The first order was for me, Pad Thai I wouldn't deny myself on Friday. The other was for Troy. I knew his earlier appearance was an episode of his depression on the downside and I wanted to make sure he'd ate. My thoughts started to question this last decision but my heart didn't do what my mind said to. I didn't question it; I accepted it as is.
On the way in, my phone alerted me and I was praying it wasn't David.
I see you. WAKE UP NAOMI!
It was Lydia. I looked up from my phone and her car's light's greeted me. They flashed on and off rapidly. She pulled up beside me as I stood on the sidewalk.
"Naomi, get in the car!" she yelled, grabbing my hand so aggressively that my food dropped to the ground, exposing its contents.
****************************************************************************
What do you think? Did Naomi get in the car with Lydia? Or did she proceed to Troy's apartment as planned?
I think she gave her friend a hard time at first but then listen to reason as Lydia displayed the realities of what she stands to loose if she continues to let Troy get in her head. Great story!!!!
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