Where We Left Off (9 page)

“
Mason, thanks for a GREAT night last night.  We’ll definitely have to do that again, and again, and again,”
Erika wrote, adding a smiley face between the sentences,
“I left you something under your pillow.   See you soon xoxo. - Erika”

Mason reached under his pillow only to find his fingers entangled in a pair of her black-laced panties.  He threw the note aside, holding them out in front of him. 
This is what she meant by my type,
he thought, thinking back on what Sydney had said before he dropped her off.  For a few seconds he stared at them, unsure of exactly what he was getting himself into with Sydney. She wasn’t the type of girl that fit into his world of promiscuity, and she undoubtedly wasn’t the type that would leave black-laced panties for him to remember her by.  But Erika was.  He and Erika didn’t have a relationship, didn’t much need one, and that’s the way he liked it –no strings attached.  It was evident that even sexually his interest in her was numbed by a single thought of Sydney.  Oddly enough, he was okay with that.

Chapter 15

Sydney’s face was like sunshine beating against a pure crystal, accented by the blush of her smile greeting the morning as the day came.  Her hair fell like silk against the lavender shirt she had worn to bed the night before.  She made her way into a kitchen she rarely frequented, down the stairs of her duplex. Something about her was very different that morning.  It was in every move she made with no thought of the next; each step embraced a sense of belonging.  She was falling in love, and was completely in awe as remnants of a night which seemed more like a dream, fluttered like butterflies in her stomach with every thought of
her
Mason, as she now called him.  She moved to music that only she could hear as she pulled pots and pans out from the cabinets below the sink, and got milk and eggs from the refrigerator. 

She cracked the eggs over the mixing bowl and laid the bacon across the frying pan with a sense of confidence in her abilities.  The kitchen was a mess, but the house soon smelled of good old southern cooking as the aroma of grits and sizzling bacon surfaced throughout. 

Her roommate Aisha, who was still asleep upstairs, woke up to her stomach growling as the smell made its way into her room.

Aisha was around the same age as Sydney, slightly shorter and curvier, with more of a chocolate complexion.  They had met at the local community college not long after Sydney moved up from South Carolina.  They weren’t the best of friends, but they were close.

She walked downstairs into the kitchen wearing a head wrap and striped blue pajamas with a small t-shirt that showed flashes of her pierced belly button.  She couldn’t help but snicker, watching Sydney dancing all by herself with a cup of hot chocolate in her hand.

“
Somebody
had a good night,” she yawned with a face full of curiosity, catching Sydney off guard.

She pulled out one of the stools from the island in the center of the kitchen and sat down, anxious to hear all of the juicy details.  Sydney leaned back against the counter across from her, holding the cup to her mouth with both hands.  Her smile stretched from one side of the cup to the other as she tried her hardest to pretend there was nothing to tell.

“
Come on, girl
!
How was it…how was he?!” She asked, expecting the details to be juicy by the look on Sydney’s face

“Unbelievable!” Sydney exclaimed.

She sat her cup on the island, nearly spilling it as she ran around to the other stool like a teenage girl after her first date.

“And start from the beginning!” Aisha insisted, cutting her off before a single word had fallen from her lips.

Sydney told her everything, from her fear of Mason standing her up to him finally showing up late, and on a motorcycle at that.  She told Aisha about how he convinced her to get on despite how afraid she was at first, and how his ‘around the corner’ ride turned into over the bridge and all night. She went on and on and on.  Aisha sat back and watched Sydney’s face light up as she told her one thing after the other.  She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Sydney so
happy.  Most of her dates never went well, and after her last boyfriend which was well over a year ago she couldn’t remember the last time Sydney had gone out with anyone.  The more Sydney told her about Mason the more she couldn’t wait to meet him, if for nothing else than to see if he was actually real. 

Aisha got up from the stool and walked over to the refrigerator to pour a glass of orange juice while Sydney went on with her story.

She set the glass down on the counter to pour the juice and turned back to Sydney. “So what time
did
you get in last night?” she asked suggestively.

She shrugged her shoulders.  “I don’t remember.  I know it was pretty late, though.”

“Late huh, so …he just –dropped you off…?”

Sydney caught the hint of what Aisha was really trying to ask her.  “Yes… he just dropped me off, and then he left.  He did not come in,” she laughed.

Aisha raised one eyebrow, looking away in the opposite direction.  “You’re better than me, girl…”

Sydney gave her an equally awkward look.  “Don’t I know it,” she laughed.

Aisha was different from Sydney in that category, and traditionally she would have been exactly Mason’s type: not plagued by moral decisions and okay with meeting a person and sleeping with them in the same night.  Had it been her in Sydney’s place, the night would have undoubtedly ended in a very familiar place: either hers or his.  Sydney wasn’t that type of girl, though; she never had been.  In the years Aisha had known her and lived with her, she’d never had a guy spend the night and she had never spent the night at a guy’s place.  Whether it was a religious or personal preference, to Aisha, Sydney was the epitome of the
good girl.

They both moved to the kitchen table to continue their conversation over breakfast.  Aisha had already sat down and began eating when she noticed Sydney taking the pot of grits from the stove, distracted by the sound of the front screen door opening.  At the sound of the subtle knocks, Sydney remembered Mason had said he would be stopping by, but she didn’t expect him to come this early.

“Who’s that?” Aisha mumbled, walking to the door.

They didn’t have a peep hole, so she opened it just enough to peek through the crack.  It was Mason all six feet, two hundred and twenty pounds of him. Her eyes traveled and nearly undressed him from head to toe.

  She opened the door all the way to greet him a little more cordially and less dramatic.  His smile was captivating to her, but his expression was that of a person at a loss for words.  He had expected Sydney to open the door, and didn’t remember her mentioning living with a sister or having a roommate.

“I’m sorry, does Sydney live here?”

She opened the door farther, “I’m starting to wish she didn’t,” she answered with a disappointed and flirtatious smile. 

Sydney came up from behind and nudged her aside.

“I didn’t expect to see you this early,” she smiled, speaking softly through the screen door that separated them.

“I hope that’s not a bad thing.  I figured why wait for most of the day to pass when we can pass it together?”

She laughed.  “Please tell me that’s not one of your pick-up lines.”

“Only if it worked,” he countered with a auspicious grin.  “May I come in?”

She paused for a second and leaned against the door frame, playfully considering whether or not to let him inside.  She looked at him, looked up in the air, looked at him again, and smiled, eventually opening the door wide to let him in.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she said, closing the door behind him.

Around the kitchen table their utensils sounded like tap shoes on a wooden floor, but was soon to be overshadowed by laughter and reenactments of embarrassing stories.  He found himself sometimes caught in the middle of light chuckles shared between Sydney and Aisha, just as Aisha found herself sometimes displaced by stolen glances across the table between Mason and Sydney.  Aisha made mention to him that he must be something pretty special for Sydney to be home on a Sunday; usually she would have been in church. 

The morning was well spent caught in conversation, as was the afternoon, which crept on them without notice.  Aisha had already left the house for the day.  With no one there but the two of them, and nothing but time that neither one of them wanted to spend apart, Sydney decided to give him a tour of her house.  They made their way up the stairs and Sydney showed him one of the bathrooms, which was heavily decorated with a girlish charm; the loft, which was furnished like a second living room; and Aisha’s bedroom, which she would have killed Sydney for if she knew she was showing Mason.  Passing a closed door to a room that Mason could only assume was
her
bedroom, he stopped, boldly placing his hand on the door knob. 

“What about this room?” he proceeded to ask in engaging curiosity.

Equally engaged, Sydney turned back towards him, not noticing the curiosity of the room as much as what could take place in it.  She toyed with him, knowing where his mind was going.  She slowly walked towards him, close enough for him to feel the warmth of her lips to his, almost as if she were going to kiss him.  She placed her hand on top of his, still holding the door knob.

“Let’s leave this door closed,” she responded softly, before letting go and walking back down the stairs. 

He smiled in pleased disbelief watching her walk away from him, shaking his head as he followed her back down the stairs.  He wouldn’t admit it, but he was kind of hoping she would say that. 

He stepped down into the living room onto a plush beige carpet after removing his shoes.  There wasn’t anything too extravagant that furnished it.  A tan upholstered sofa and love seat was positioned in the middle of the floor facing the television, with a glass coffee table in the center.  Before he could take a seat, his eyes were immediately drawn to her massive DVD collection on a shelf beside the television.

“Wow, you must really be a hopeless romantic,” he joked.

“No, I just like good tear jerker,” she smiled.

He laughed as his eyes traveled the titles of each movie. 
Sleepless in Seattle, Love and Basketball, The Best Man –
all love stories. 

“Looks pretty hopeless to me” he laughed.

He leaned down to one he, too, had buried in his collection at home. 
Love Jones.

“Now this was a good movie.”

“That’s surprising,” she doubtfully noted.

“What, that it’s a good movie?”

“No, that
you
actually think it was.”

They playfully exchanged quoted lines from the movie, laughing hysterically at each other’s attempt to know more than the other.  They spent almost an hour remembering and trying to remember where they were when they saw it last, who they were with, and so many other memories.  The laughter began to die down between them, along with what they could remember from the movie. 

Mason leaned back in the love seat, sitting only inches away from Sydney.  “Let's
watch it,” he suggested.

Although she initially hesitated at his request, she found herself putting the DVD into the player and getting comfortable beside him.  She leaned into his arms, resting her head lightly on his chest, seeming to have done it a thousand times before.  Her feet nestled into the end of the love seat in between the throw pillows and cushion as she handed him the remote control.  She found a comfort in resting on him that he was just beginning to find in himself:  the feeling of space and opportunity restrained by simplicity, by feeling more than a body pressed against him, by affection.  He took a few nervous breaths before inching his arm from the top of the loveseat onto hers and pressed play. 

His eyes glued to the television, he wondered again what he was doing.  Between last night and this very moment, the feeling of being on auto pilot was an understatement.  He thought back as far as the wedding when he first saw her, their conversation at the bar, her giving him her phone number, and of course the following weeks in which she hadn’t left his mind. 
This isn’t me,
he thought, almost convincingly.  He kept pointing out things that he just didn’t do, but everything he’d been through in the previous twenty-four hours said the complete opposite.  He wasn’t one to cuddle
,
but there he was with Sydney lying on his chest, her breathing almost in sync with his own.  Most of all, he didn’t do relationships, but there he sat in her house, on her sofa watching a movie, feeling the inevitable conclusion of one presenting itself. 

Soon the only sounds in the room were those that echoed from scenes in the movie.  Sydney had drifted off to sleep, and Mason couldn’t help but look upon her as if he were counting her every breath. Hearing her inhale and exhale was like a composed tune in his head to a soundtrack of his own
Love Jones
.  The walls around him seemed to disappear and the windows that once yielded light into the living room blended in with the only colors that seemed to matter in that moment in time her soft caramel skin tone, the blush of her lips, and her thick, dark eyelashes that concealed those almond brown eyes.   He was so far from what he was used to, the uncharted territories, unfamiliar thoughts and feelings.  He felt his world slow down in that moment, and for once he embraced the possibility of feeling more than a meaningless touch.  He embraced the idea of her.