Changing Stiles Read online

  “I'm not even gon' lie. Right now, I'm testing the waters. I've been meeting new people, getting hooked up, and just kicking it with old friends. I’m as single as an inmate in solitary confinement.”

  “You have a lot of guy friends then?” he rephrases the question.

  I shrug. “A couple. A date here and there. I'm not tryna be serious with none of them,” I let him know.

  I guess that shuts him up because Carter is quiet the rest of the way to Oregon Ave. I sat with my arms folded over my chest, my eyes closed, and with my head resting on the back of my seat for the remainder of the ride. It's not my fault if he gets upset about something that he has no control over. This is only our first date and from the looks of it, it'll be our last. I was honest with him and I don’t know what more he wants. If he can't handle it, that's something he'll have to deal with.

  I'm through. Sensitive dudes are a trip. They be all in their feelings with the truth.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Carter

  So, the princess is annoyed that I asked about other dudes. She tried to spin me with the friend question. Nawl, no thank you. I like the truth and I’m glad that shorty is honest. Maybe my silence is freaking her out. She is shooting daggers out her brown eyes. And I'm the target.

  “Alieas, I'm sorry,” I apologize as we come to a complete stop after parking. Amused, I turn to her. The gold of her eyes darkened like a storm was coming. Must be her temper flaring up. I'm intrigued by the attitude. Alieas draws me in as she gives more attitude and adds dramatic sighs.

  “What do you want me to say? I was being honest. This is our first date, and you shouldn’t be mad to the point where you won’t talk to me.”

  I shake my head, denying her take on it. “I was quiet for like two minutes. Taking what you said in. So, it’s not even like that.”

  “What is it, then?” She folds her arms over her chest.

  My smile widens. “I’m really feeling you. You’re cute and I haven't been in the dating game for a while. I’ma have to work harder to get what I want,” I admit.

  The smile is slow to develop and the heat in her eyes simmers. “It ain’t worth having if you don’t have to work for it.”

  I nod in agreement. “Can say that again.”

  Once we got out of the car, we ordered our food, found a table, then sat down. Because she’s watching her weight, I had to talk her into ordering some cheese fries and let her share a bite of my chicken cheesesteak. She pulled out hand sanitizer from her purse and gave me a squirt. I laughed when she ordered a bottle of water and then pulled out a packet of Crystal Light from her purse. I watched in amazement as the liquid turned pink. Alieas playfully tilted it toward me and asked if I wanted to taste it.

  She don’t even know. I don't want no damn water, but I’d damn sure like a taste of her. “Nawl, I’m good. So what do you like to do?”

  She shrugs, dipping some fries into the cheese. “I work out a lot. I used to be fatter. Also used to have serious self-esteem issues. Corrected both. So, my main focus is on my weight and my mindset. But I also like movies, I write poetry,” she explains. Then she scrunches up her face. “I’m a lil’ loud. And my temper is crazy,” she admits.

  “I have something for that,” I let her know. And taking in the woman before me, I can’t imagine this outwardly beautiful creature having any esteem issues, but I have something for that too. I guess that is why she went cold when I referenced her as being cute for a big girl.

  “Hmmm. I bet. Where are the pictures of Amira?”

  Wiping my mouth and hands with a napkin, I reach in my back pocket for my wallet and pull it out and hand it to her.

  “She is gorgeous, Carter,” she bubbly announces, flipping through the various stages Mira’s life. There is a father's pride in my eyes when I show her off. It was reasonable for Alieas to conclude that this little girl has me wrapped around her long, browned-skinned fingers.

  “She took these last month,” I brag proudly, pointing to the most recent pictures. Aside from the wide smile, Amira is tall for her age; she is shades darker than me but has my eyes. I had twisted her long hair into ponytails. She had on a purple Polo T-shirt and shorts.

  "Too cute,” she giggles.

  “Yeah, she is the best thing to have ever happened to me,” I confess. I think I’d go through all the mess with Latoya again if it ended with me getting my daughter. Distracted by the vibrating of my cell phone, I pull it out my pocket and answer.

  “Hey, Mom. Wassup?” She sounds a little bit out of breath as she explains that she can’t find Mira’s inhaler. I clutch my heart and stand up. “Check in the little pockets of her overnight bag,” I advise her. “It says Albuterol...”

  “I know what it says, boy. I’m going to check her room. I didn’t mean to get you all riled up,” she responds. “Calm down. It’s just a lil’ wheezing. The nebulizer is here.”

  “I’m going to stop by my house and grab an extra one and bring it. Thanks, Mom.”

  This is another reason why dating hasn't been a priority. Being a parent doesn't care if you're out on a date; the duty demands your attention. Most women were put off by that. My heart beats quicker, thinking about Mira.

  “I'm sorry, Alieas, but I have to go back home...” I quickly explain to her that Mira has a bad case of asthma and that right now, she’s suffering from a summer cold and allergies. Horrible combo for a three-year-old.

  Surprised by Alieas' decision to go home with me, I offered to reschedule but I was actually glad that she doesn’t say she wants to go home. There is no time to take her. I have to get to Mira. Alieas looks out the window; I imagine that she’s thinking, “What the fuck am I doing?”

  And as a result, this could be our last date.

  I'd take that. Sometimes, that’s how it went. I almost gave up on a possible second date until she reaches over to touch my forearm and squeezes it in what I can only categorize as support.

  Looking over, I smile at her and she smiles back, slowing my heartbeat and calming my nerves.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Alieas

  The movie doesn't start until ten p.m. and right now, it is only five minutes to eight, so there is still a chance that we'll make the movie. I also realize that there is a chance that we won't. Yet here I am, agreeing to all of it. It would give me an opportunity to analyze his ass in his natural habitat.

  Carter turns out to be a wonder with children. Fatherhood must be his niche. I find it appealing when he doesn’t just drop off the medicine and try to continue our date. I would have been angry had this been any other man, but if he had, I would question all the things he'd said about his daughter being the most important person in his life. As confused as I am, I find it weird that I'm not mad that we end up staying at his mom’s all night because Amira just didn't want him to leave.

  A beautiful sight it is; Carter holding her in his arms while she attempts to doze off into sleep. I know that a lot of kids get really irritable when they're sick. They don't want to be moved or touched by certain people. They want what they want when they want it, and I definitely understand that. I’m always like that, no sickness required. I'd hate to be defenseless like that again.

  Throughout the night, I observe Carter’s facial expressions. I can see the patience in his eyes as he tries to comfort Mira. He rubs her hair, kisses her cheeks, and whispers that she'd be all right and that he'll never let anything bad happen to her. I hear him say, 'If daddy could take the pain away I would.' My heart sinks after those words spilled from his lips. By then, I know that his capacity for love is greater than I'd thought.

  We haven't even been on a real date, and here I am, falling in love with him being able to love his child so much. I tend to romanticize everything. I admire this because my father, though he spoils me to death, has never been overly affectionate to me. That is my mother's job.

  Mother. That now has me wondering about the woman --no girl— who had
brought Amira into this world, only to leave her without a mother's love. Who would give up their rights to such a beautiful child and a beautiful man for something else? For the unknown?

  There must be something wrong with me this week. I'm just too damn emotional. My date has just been ruined because of a kid, yet all I can do is smile because father and child look so cute together.

  At some point between nine-fifteen and nine-thirty Carter’s mom, Sharon, comes into the room to tell us that we'll miss the movie if we don’t leave. She playfully scolds him for constantly holding Amira, and she also says something to the effect of him spoiling the child rotten.

  Crazy that I spend my first date with his family and kind of enjoy it. Three hours in his company isn’t at all bad. I learn that he is a graduate from Florida A&M with a Bachelor of Science in architectural design. That really blows my mind, but it explains the damn house.

  The man designed and built his dream house. He’d converted two rowhomes in the East Falls section of Philadelphia into one extremely large single. By our next date, I'll be able to inspect it in more detail. The fact that he's not actively pursuing a career as an architect surprises me, but he told me that he'd worked for a firm in Florida after graduating. Soon after, Carter said he’d found that it wasn't something that he wanted to do for life.

  Says that he needed to build something with his hands, and my eyes go right to those hands. I look at them, and they are long but strong. His palms are wide; I can see the calloused pads at the base of each finger. I want them on me. But I just listen to him talk. I like the sound of his voice; it’s deep and husky. It sends ripples of warmth over my skin but still manages to make my hairs stand on end. It bellows with bass, beckoning my heartstrings to play another love song.

  I can’t focus. Lust causes me to not listen. And I had to listen. Really listen to his words, not to react or to respond but to internalize who he is.

  So, in addition to him not liking the job, Amira had been born and Latoya, Amira’s mom, was unwilling to relocate back to Philadelphia from Florida. He developed a passion for working with his hands, and they are part of the reason he now owns a prosperous up-and-coming construction and contracting company.

  “I'm sorry about the way things turned out tonight, Alieas,” Carter begins as he walks me to my apartment building. We’re holding hands and I’m looking up at him. I shake my head and murmur, “Shhh, I enjoyed spending time with you."

  “Can I call you when I get home?” he asks.

  “Yeah, you should do that. But right now, I think you ought to get Amira home and into her own bed,” I reply, glancing over at the car where the child lay sleeping in the back in her car seat. The cuteness of the child has got me tripping.

  “In a minute,” he says, tipping my face up to his. “I've wanted to do this all night,” he adds as his lips descend upon mine.

  The kiss is short but sweet. It only lasts a second, but it would last in my memory for a lifetime. Unexpectedly, he kisses me again. This time, his tongue touches mine, and my arms wind themselves around his shoulders. His arms wrapped around me; his fingers begin massaging the small of my back. Gradually, the kiss comes to an end, and we both step apart, dazed.

  “Keep it up and you gon' be my woman,” he warns me.

  Even though the baritone voice is persuasive, I negligently think to myself, Riiight!! There is no way I can be so sure. I only smile. We have a lot to get through to determine that. The kid thing is still like a crack in my car windshield.

  “We'll see. Call me,” I say finally as I begin digging in my purse to find the keys.

  Five

  July 2002

  Alieas

  I’m not used to being catered to. Having all of my whims, flights of fancy, and crazy notions entertained has me soft and agreeable. Soft and/or agreeable has never been me, but I guess I can kind of get used to it. Inhaling the fresh bouquet of mixed flowers, I warm to the idea that it is ok for Carter to make me feel special, even if it is something as simple as a tiny bouquet of mismatched flowers.

  The array of vibrant colors easily has me grinning from ear-to-ear. I love flowers and have never received any “just because”.

  With a foolish grin, I read the card again: Just because I want to make you smile, Carter.

  “Ooooh, flowers!” my mom squeals as she breezes into my office. My smile is on one hundred. “Niiiiice. They’re beautiful, baby,” she approves.

  Admiring the flowers again before putting them on the corner of my desk, I nod excitedly. “Yes.”

  I can't wait to call and thank him for his unexpected act of thoughtfulness.

  “And who are they from?”

  “Carter.”

  It takes her a moment, but she dims the wattage back on the smile. “Points for the sunflower, but does he know your favorite flowers are Calla Lilies?” she asks. She isn't particularly fond of Carter because he is a fulltime father and a contractor. I have no idea how a girl from North Philadelphia became such a snob. My father moved her out of the county, and now, she acts like she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She swears a doctor or lawyer is in my future. I have no idea what’s in my future. And because I love her just about as much as she gets on my nerves, I don't want to go down the rabbit hole she's trying to lead me to.

  I shrug. No man has ever bought me roses either, so… “Umm. What difference does it make?” I sit down behind my desk and mentally prepare myself when my mom also takes a seat.

  “None, I guess. But you have to make sure you set standards for these men. Teach them how to treat you. Let them know what you like. What your expectations are.”

  “The expectation is to make and keep me smiling and not crying, and these flowers did that today. He’s the first man to send me flowers for no special reason, so, you should lighten up. Carter’s a nice guy, Mom. And we’ve only been together a month.”

  She sighs. “I know but…” She surrenders her current thoughts with an invisible white flag. “Bring him and Mira over for dinner on Sunday,” she adds.

  “Ok. Thanks, Mom.”

  “Well, for any man who has the power to make your mean behind smile, I am willing to give a chance. Don't forget the dinner party, though,” she reminds me.

  Already forgotten. Frowning, I look over at the flowers. I don’t want to waste my time fooling around with my parents and their bougie behind friends and their stick-up-the-ass sons. What types of dudes need to be set up by their parents these days anyway? I’m going to be certified insane if she keeps trying to shove all the available suitors she knows my way.

  And I've been enjoying spending time with Carter. All my other guy friends have fallen by the wayside. Not saying I’m closed off to meeting new people. It’s just that I like him.

  A lot.

  “Mom, I thought we canceled that.”

  “I most certainly did not. You promised. If you don't like him, you'll never have to see him again. Now, make sure you wear something dazzling.”

  I think about protesting, but I agree so I can get back to admiring my flowers. I can’t wait to text my girls to let them know I got some “just because” flowers. “After this, no more dates. I am highly capable of attracting my own men. Thank you.”

  “Of course you are, baby, and that’s why you have one now,” she says in a voice tinged with polite sarcasm. She gets up and comes over to kiss my head before exiting.

  Picking up the telephone, I dial Carter's number. “Heeeey,” I say when he answers. “I love the flowers. Thank you.”

  “Did they make you smile?”

  “They were the highlight of my day so far.”

  “Glad to hear it. Shit— Lieas, I have to take this call. Call you back. Maybe we can go out later,” he suggests.

  “Call me later,” I say. I quickly hang up the receiver. I guess I’m going to have to tell him I already have plans. We haven't discussed being exclusive, and he hasn't questioned how things are going with my other guy friends, so until he mak
es his intentions crystal clear, the status of our relationship can be left up to interpretation.

  *****

  Collecting numbers is my one of my favorite things about being single. Although I want something serious with Carter, I consider a month entirely too soon to be calling off all the enamored souls who are lucky enough to come in contact with me.

  “So, do you have a man, Ma?” the current soul questions. He has been watching me since we are both in line, paying for gas. He has continued to watch me as I pump mine right across from where he is pumping his. He doesn’t offer to pump my gas, so I try to avoid eye contact. There are no gentlemen left in the world.

  Carter is a gentleman, though. I shake my head. Carter isn’t here.

  And even though I love being called, ‘Ma’, I supply my name. “Alieas, and no, I don’t,” I reply.

  He smiles and treats me to a beautiful set of white teeth. “Justin. You just have a lot of ‘friends’, then?”

  I almost laugh but I smile instead. I watch him as he walks over to my car from his. He is sexy as hell. And dark as a Hershey’s chocolate bar. His face is handsome enough, I suppose and he has a very nice athletic body. In fact, it looks like he’s just come from running ball with his boys. At least I hope that why he’s sporting a basketball jersey, shorts, and sneaks in the middle of the day. “Nice to meet you,” I tell him as I shake his extended hand. “And why you say that?”

  “You look like the type,” he answers. “And since you asked me that, I know it’s true.”

  I nodded. “I have friends. But don’t you?”

  “I guess. You gon’ be busy with any of them t’nite?”

  Damn, I wish I hadn’t agreed to my mom’s stupid dinner party. “Why? Do you have something better for me to do?”

  “I’m always good company. I’m sure that we can find something that we both would like to do.”

  Sure, would like to do him. The thought is out before I could check it. This is my muthafuckin’ problem. “I’m sure we can.”