An hour later, Harlem stood at the foot of her bed staring at it. She shared that bed with Damian. Harlem’s guilt wouldn’t allow her to climb onto it. Instead, she grabbed her pillow and blanket and went out into the living room.
Harlem needed some background noise to drown out the voices in her head, so she turned on the television and tried to get comfortable.
When her cell rang, she knew exactly who it was. Over the past few months, Harlem could set her watch to his nightly calls. Hesitantly, Harlem answered. “Carter.”
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” The truth was he’d needed to hear her voice. “Habit.”
Harlem knew they couldn’t move on as if nothing had changed. Everything was different. However, for tonight, she lacked the energy to confront it. Instead, Harlem pretended all was well. “I’m just settling down for the night.”
Carter could hear the exhaustion in her voice. “Yeah, me too.” The truth was Carter was still sitting in the same spot where they’d made love.
Harlem raised her voice to an unnaturally high pitch. “Can I call you tomorrow?” She tried to sound as if she were okay but was failing miserably.
Carter didn’t want to disconnect but knew he had to give her some space. “Yeah. I just wanted to make sure you were good.”
“I’m fine.” Her voice sounded so small. “Promise, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay. Whenever you have a chance.” Carter waited for her to hang up before disconnecting.
Harlem pressed the end button. Then, curled up on her side and rested her head on her arm while staring at the television. It was more or less white noise.
Harlem had no idea what show was on or how long she had been staring at it when her bladder started to act up. Dammit, I’ve got to pee. She got up to use the bathroom. When she came back, Harlem still couldn’t fall asleep. She was too wired. Without checking the time, Harlem picked up the phone and called Mesha.
She answered on the third ring. It was obvious Mesha had been sleeping. She sounded groggy. “Harlem?”
“Yeah. It’s me. Can you talk?”
Mesha whispered as she glanced over at her sleeping husband. “Girl, it’s almost two o'clock in the morning. Is everything alright?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late.”
It was also Valentine’s night and probably had been a hard day for Harlem to get through. Mesha thought.
“I can call you tomorrow.” Harlem felt bad she hadn’t checked the time before calling.
Fortunately, Mesha and her husband had celebrated early. Jackson was knocked out cold. Mesha got up, threw on a robe, and walked out of her bedroom. Yawning, she went into her home office and closed the door. “I always have time for my bestie. Are you okay? I phoned earlier, but you didn’t answer.”
“Mesh . . . I did something today and need to talk to someone about it.”
“Damn, girl. You sound like you need me to help bury a body.” Mesha rubbed the fog out of her eyes. “Just let me know, and I’ll borrow Jackson’s brother’s car.” She laughed but was only half-joking.
Nervously, Harlem nibbled on her lower lip. “I-I . . . um.”
“You’re stuttering.” Mesha sat up in her chair. “This must be serious. What happened? What did you do?”
“You have to promise not to judge me.”
“Harlem Denise Thomas, you know damn well I can’t promise that.” Mesha laughed quietly, hoping to relax her friend. She could feel how tense Harlem was through the phone. “C’mon, you’re the poster child for being unproblematic. My guess is, I don’t have to be an accessory to a crime. But, if you slept with Barack Obama, that I couldn’t forgive. I would join Michelle in whooping your ass.”
“I didn’t sleep with him.”
Mesha went completely silent. Shocked was an understatement. “You slept with someone? As in had full-on sex, including actual penetration?”
“You make it sound so bad,” Harlem said.
“That’s not it. I’m just surprised. One-night stands aren’t really your thing. It took you forever to sleep with Damian. But, I guess, if you wanted to hook-up and have a little mindless sex with someone to deal with everything, I’m all for it. Do I know him?” Mesha was wracking her brain trying to figure out who the lucky bastard could be. “It couldn’t be anyone from work. You’ve been on leave for months, plus you wouldn’t sleep with a colleague. I would say Carter, but you wouldn’t sleep with him either.”
There was a slight hitch in Harlem’s voice. “Why would you even think of Carter and then dismiss him?”
“He doesn’t fit the profile. He doesn’t resemble Idris Elba or Morris Chestnut.” She giggled. “If it were up to Carter, I might feel differently.”
Harlem sighed. “I’ve told you before that I wouldn’t not date someone because they weren’t black.”
“I’d like to see what Carter would do if he had that information. He has a certain way of looking at you. Those glances are fleeting, but I’ve seen them.”
“I’ve never seen that,” Harlem responded.
“Girl, who the hell got the drawls?! It’s too late to be playing guessing games.”
Harlem squeezed her eyes shut. “What if I told you that it was Carter?”
“Your pregnant ass slept with Carter?!” She whispered-shouted, then covered her mouth with her hand. After Mesha thought about it for a second, her head tilted from side-to-side. “I guess it would kind of make sense.”
Harlem rubbed her forehead. “What?! No. It doesn’t make any sense. I
