“No reason, but perhaps I was expecting Professor Walters to be here. I had a question for him. And you know me, when I get something on my mind it doesn’t leave easily.”
The last student exits, leaving us alone in the cavernous room. Her tone changes to more familiar. Intimately familiar. “I thought it was because of what happened with us. You’ve acted normally until tonight.”
“I enjoyed what we shared, and don’t regret a second of it. But as we mentioned then, it was a one time thing.”
With hooded eyes she confesses, “I wouldn’t mind if it happened again. Are you busy now?”
The man in me scans her body out of instinct alone. I enjoyed our carnal interlude, but the thought of doing it again is not appealing. I don’t want to make her feel like it’s a personal judgment when it’s not, so I reassure her, “You are so sexy it’s hard to say no.” She smiles as if that’s a yes until I explain, “However, I’ve met somebody. And I need to see where it’s going.” At the subtle, dejected slump in her spirit I hastily add, “It would be too difficult for us to maintain anything long-term. And everyone deserves that. We both do. I have so much respect for you. And for this girl I met. So don’t let it simmer that this has anything to do with something lacking in what we had. It was perfect. Some things are meant to be drops of perfection in a sea of mediocrity, until we find land.”
I hold her eyes until I know for certain that sunk in. Turning on my heel I leave her to the rest of her night and hope that it will be a good one. What she does with this is up to her from here on out. All I can ever do is handle myself in an honest way and be the best man I can be.
CHAPTER 7
T ONK JR.
3:05 P.M. three days later I swoop underneath the window with a freshly made tuna sandwich in my hand. It’s got kale and cherry tomatoes on it, and I’ve been looking forward to this ever since my last class ended. I spent time scouring the neighborhood before I came home to man my post, and I am starving. Taking a seat I crunch the right corner of tuna heaven.
Mmm.
Damn, this is good.
“Tonk?”
My eyes spring open at the unexpected sound of her voice and I lean over, looking down. I can’t believe it! Swallowing so I can talk, I start coughing, smacking my chest, my eyes locked on her like if I close them again she’ll vanish. She smiles at my rough hacking. I croak, “Hi!”
“Hi,” she says more quietly, her fingers gripped around the stroller’s handlebar. I don’t know if that’s it’s technical title, but I’m so used to motorcycles, it’ll do. It’s a sunny, eighty-degree day so she’s wearing sunglasses, but her posture says hesitant when her gaze cannot. A soft dress of white hangs to below her knees and there are comfortable sneakers on her shuffling feet. “I was just going to the sculpture.”
“Wait there! Not at the sculpture! I mean here. There! Where you’re standing! Wait there!”
The window gives me trouble. I wrestle using only one hand, win the battle, and swoop inside, running the second my feet hit the floor. Tossing the once-bitten sandwich into the sink, it makes a dull thud and falls apart.
Daniel asks from his video game, “You done with that sandwich?”
“It’s all yours!”
“Cool.”
I race down the stairs while finger-combing my hair, heart racing faster than my feet.
As I explode out of the building, part of me expects her not to be there. Or at least be halfway up the street by now, having second-guessed her choice.
It’s my lucky day, and I slow my steps to stroll up and offer my best smirk that I’ve seen Jett Cocker give so many times to Luna back at the plantation. I’ve practiced it since I was a boy. “I was just heading there, too.”
We start walking and she doesn’t call me out on my white lie.
“How have you been?” I ask her, shoving my hands in my pockets.
“I’ve been okay,” she whispers, staring ahead.
The stroller’s wheels bump gently across cracks in the sidewalk along the way. Traffic on Morningside and 114th St. is congested, as usual. Angry honking is a prerequisite skillset for driving in impatient New York City.
We wait for the green light while I try not to scare her off. As we cross the dirty street, my hand instinctively touches her lower back to guide her, or protect her from cars, or I don’t know what. Never would I have purposefully touched her under these circumstances.
She glances to me but returns to profile again. Behind the glasses I see long eyelashes fluttering with relief, and my gut tells me she likes this touch. Like she needs a hug and this will do since she can’t have more. Am I assuming?
“This okay?”
“Yes.”
“Would you tell me?”
She pauses. “Yes, I would tell you.”
The staircase is a challenge with this stroller so I hurry ahead in order to help. My gaze drops to the baby girl’s flawless, golden skin. “I’m sorry, is it okay if I meet her?”
Stacy’s smile opens in surprise. “I don’t mind. Thank you for asking.”
“Hi Celia, I’m Tonk Jr.” Flicking a glance to Stacy I laugh, “Never thought I’d introduce myself to my older sister! You know what I mean. Feels weird.” Huge brown eyes stare up at me. They dart right as a pigeon swoops into the park, nearly buzzing my head. A smile flashes across little Celia’s face. It’s pure, innocent joy. “Your daughter’s smile could cure wars.”
Taking hold near the front wheels, while Stacy lifts the back, we begin to carry the stroller down the steps. “Stop. What am I doing? Hold onto it.” Coming around to the
