Mrs. Wilson

This road trip with my sorority sisters back to our alma mater for homecoming was a better idea in my head than it has been on the commute.  The experience is fun, but my bones just don’t do well with long car rides anymore and eight hours is quite the feat. As we pass the WELCOME sign that solidifies that we are back in the city that started it all, I decide to text him. I had been going back and forth with myself for the entirety of this commute and concluded, if I am going to let this man live rent free in my head for eight straight hours, I owe it to myself to have this conversation face to face. It had been a little over a year since I last spoke to EZ.   

Hey, I am going to be around for homecoming. If you are going to be around too, I wonder if we can link and talk?!   

I retyped the message multiple times because I did not want to sound too familiar and give him the impression that all is well now, but I also did not want to frighten him into thinking that I wanted to war with him. Finally satisfied that I reached a happy medium, I press send. Before I can even put my phone away my notification goes off.   

I will be around, and I would love to see you. I miss you.   

I felt an instant rush that I wasn’t expecting but I responded with an even temperament.  

Sounds like a plan. I will hit you when I get sorted at my hotel.   

Again, with expedience my phone notification goes off.   

Patiently waiting.  

I return to laughing and singing along to the radio with my sorority sisters until they drop me at my hotel. They opted to stay at the alumni house to really relive the good old days, but I need my sleep when I need my sleep.   

Hauling my large sorority tote onto the front desk to fish out my wallet for check-in, the front desk clerk takes notice. She is of medium build and height, mocha complexion, with black microbraids pulled back into a bun. Her uniform tag reads Sarai. “Are you a member of that sorority”, Sarai asks as she is nodding her head toward my tote. I fight the urge to respond with a snarky comment, which is quite impressive because my mouth is normally five seconds swifter than my head, “Yes, yes I am a proud member”, I respond as I hand her my driver’s license and credit card. “Oh wow, I went to a few events they hosted this semester, your sisters here are really doing some great work.” I smile at her lightly but internally I am beaming with absolute pride to know that my chapter has been left in good hands. “Thanks for that update, I am glad to know we still run the yard”, I chuckled. Room key in hand, I follow Sarai’s directions to the elevator.  Once I get into my room, I unpack my spirits for the weekend and put them in the mini fridge, hang up my clothes (yup, I am that person) and put my toiletries in the bathroom. Once I have settled in and washed that eight-hour car ride off me, it’s about 7:30pm. I text EZ: 

Are you available to grab some food and talk? 

Of course. I can come pick you up, where you staying? 

Blue Ribbon Hotel  

Perfect, I do not live far from there, so I can be there in about 15 minutes. Unless you need more time. Just let me know wassup.  

15 is perfect. See you then.  

I hate to admit it, but it makes me feel good-special even, that he is so available for me. I remind myself, we did not part ways on good terms and that must be addressed first and foremost. Poured myself a glass of straight rum and sunk into my thoughts. I was shocked back into reality when I heard the room phone ring. I was not expecting that, so I had a bit of a delayed reaction in reaching for it. I recognize the voice after my greeting, it’s Sarai. “Good Evening Ms. Shaw, there is an EZ here for you. He asked for your room number but we are not allowed to give out that information so I offered to ring your room so that you may give it to him instead.” Sarai hands EZ the phone. “So, can I come up or nah?” I laugh unknowingly, I guess that rum is kicking in, “Sure, I mean you could’ve just called my cell - I’m in room 408”. We hang up and in what felt like the blink of an eye there is a knock at the door.   

There is nothing more cliché than seeing an old flame after a long time and feeling butterflies in your stomach, but there I was. He walked in and gave me the longest hug and betrayed by my own body, I had sunk into that hug and held on for dear life. I caught a glimpse of us in the mirror to my right and realized, I had forgotten how beautifully our skin complimented one another. His skin is a rich deep chocolate, and my skin is reminiscent of the caramel squares my grandma would keep in her purse for me during church. When we finally parted, he said, “Mrs. Wilson, you look beautiful as ever. Wow!”.  There I was in the middle of my hotel room in a white cotton dress with an asymmetrical hemline, blue denim jacket, white high top Chuck Taylor’s and my black goddess braids pulled up into a high ponytail.  Simply put, I wasn’t wearing anything special but true to form his words made me feel like I was ravishing. Dreading the fact that I know things are about to tense up because, I have already began drinking and my mouth is five minutes faster than my brain and I have some things I need to get off my chest. Ever the gracious host, even if I plan to tell you off, I offer him a drink, which he accepts because he too knows that we are not leaving this room until I say what I have to say. “Sure, what do you have-actually, I know you have rum, so I will just have a rum and coke.” I’m slightly annoyed by all the familiarity but my head wins the race this time and I quietly make the drink and refresh my own. After we both take a sip of our drinks, I perch myself quite high onto my soapbox and begin.  

“From the first moment we met you were all in my face telling me how we were going to be together, and then we were finally both single and had the opportunity to be together you said to me-this is our time. I wasn’t sure if it was the right time for me because I had not been out of my prior relationship that long and you weren’t exactly presenting as relationship material. Cool, you cut back on all the chicks. We are making more time for one another. We went out to dinner one night during our last semester and you tell me that you don’t feel like we communicate as much as we should, although at this point, I am pretty sure we spoke or texted at least once a day.  Do you remember that?” He nods in agreement but doesn’t utter a word. “Right, you remember, you wanted more. I told you that very moment when you want more you will need to use your words and that you better be damned sure when you use them. Do you remember what your response was? Do you Ezekiel?” I feel my voice raising unintentionally but unapologetically. EZ finally breaks his silence, “Alex, of course I remember. I said Mrs. Wilson, we are about to graduate, and I want us to start our life together, you told me to stop calling you Mrs. Wilson if I was not ready to change your last name, I said, Mrs. Wilson – I am using my words. I’m ready if you are. I meant it then and I mean it now.” Pouring yet another glass of straight rum, I turn to respond, “You meant it then and you mean it now?!”, I repeat through condescending laughter. “Sir, you couldn’t possibly have meant it then if you did my name might actually be Mrs. Wilson, also stop calling me that because it’s not who I am.” “It is who you are to me, so I’m not going to stop calling you that ever. I didn’t want us to break up. You chose this.” Sarcasm on extra-large like I just captured the mushroom in Super Mario Bros. I retort, “Oh yes, I wanted this, I wanted my heart broken, yes, you are most correct sir, this is what I chose.” “EZ how you can sit there and say I chose this is absurd, I was offered an incredible job opportunity and I chose that. I wasn’t made aware that choosing my career meant losing you. I was always willing to make it work, but you went full on its all or nothing with me, I deserved better, WE DESERVED BETTER EZEKIEL!” EZ has been pacing the room since I made my last drink. “Baby we had a plan, you knew that I couldn’t leave here for another 3 years because of grad school and you said we would stay here together. I needed your support; I didn’t want to do this without you.” “Are you standing here telling me that you would have been fine letting me support your dreams while turning my back on my own dreams? I really hope that I am misunderstanding you right now.” “Don’t make it seem as if you were abandoning your dreams, you had good job offers right here that would have let you pursue your dreams. It was more important to you to run back to the big city and take the job at the bigger named company. You could do the same thing right here, but you chose to leave me. Do you know how many nights I cried after you told me you were moving back down to the city and leaving me here alone? Do you? You have always acted as if you were the only one hurting but I hurt too Alex, I love you. I don’t know what you don’t get about that. It was no way I was going to be able to focus on school and handle being so far from you. Look at my hands right now-I'm shaking. Do you know why Alex, do you have any clue?” I gulp down the last of my drink and as I am reaching for a water, respond, “No, actually, I have no damn clue why your hand is shaking but maybe we need to go eat.” EZ laughs, “woman you drive me mad, I am not shaking because my blood sugar is low,” he continues while chuckling, “let’s just call it Alex withdrawal!” Straight face and sterned voice I retort, “sex, sex is what’s on your mind right now. Sex is why you gave up on us. You didn’t think you would be able to go without sex periodically? I wasn’t moving to across the damn globe, it’s barely an hour flight. You have to be kidding me.” EZ has stopped pacing and is now directly in front of me and gently pulls me by the waist. No, it wasn’t sex then and isn’t sex now – babe it’s just you, your energy, your love. I know it’s probably not even healthy to say this, but I need you and I want you. Maybe I want more of you than I’m entitled to but I’m just being honest. But I never chose us being apart. Slowly but surely, we both got busy, communicated less and then one day we weren’t communicating at all.” He’s standing so close to me I can't tell whose air I’m breathing in, his or mine. I exhale, “All I know is every time I mentioned planning a visit, there was always an issue or scheduling conflict. Eventually, I just took the hint – you didn’t want to see me. I decided if we weren’t going to see each other I couldn’t continue talking to you every day. It hurt too much. I can do distance as long as I know when I will see you next, but you kept putting me off, I wasn’t a priority.” When EZ and I dated he would do this thing where he would put his lips lightly on top of mine and just utter the sweetest things. He leaned in and put his lips on top of mine and said, “You are always a priority”. I just stared into his eyes until my brain and lips came to a consensus on my response, “I didn’t feel that way and I don’t ever want to be in a relationship where I don’t feel like a priority.” He ran the back of his left hand down my right cheek until he reached my chin and then he kissed me. My body did not betray me this time, we were all on the same page as I returned his affections. Leaning back ever so slightly he asks, “So, Mrs. Wilson, where do we go from here?” I notice the clock on the end table and the hollow echo and in my belly and answer, “to dinner, I am starving!”. EZ steps back and laughs hysterically, “c’mon, let’s go feed you. I need my baby well fed so she doesn’t get hangry.... I’m trying to get out of the doghouse-not build an additional wing.” I laugh at his corny joke, more so because of the rum, then the joke itself while I grab my purse. He hugs me from behind as I am about to open the door, those beautiful full lips pressed against my right ear and whispers, “I am using my words – I want more!”