Love Becomes Her

“A lot of men would want me.”

“Of course,” Elizabeth said.

“Well, did you do it or didn’t you?” Stephanie asked, getting straight to the point.

“Scared.”

“Of what?” Ann Marie asked.

Barbara plopped down on the love seat and stretched her legs out in front of her. “I haven’t been with a man since Marvin died.”

“Ohhh,” they chorused in sympathy.

“Well, it’s like riding a bike. Once you get on, it all comes back to you,” Ann Marie said.

“That’s very true,” Stephanie added.

Elizabeth sniffed. “I wouldn’t know. That bastard was the only man I’ve ever been with.”

“Ohhh,” they chimed.

“I don’t know if I should get involved…like that,” Barbara said. “He’s a patient of mine.”

“It’s not the same thing as doctor–patient,” Ann Marie offered.

“That’s true,” Stephanie concurred.

“How do you feel about him?” Elizabeth asked.

Barbara turned gentle eyes on her friend. “I like him…a lot.”

“So go for it, girl. You only live once. It’s not like you’re going to marry him,” Stephanie said.

“And every healthy able-bodied woman needs some young lovin’ every now and then,” Ann Marie added.

The trio nodded in agreement.

Barbara sighed. “Wouldn’t it be ideal if women could just sit back and pick who they wanted, when they wanted, how they wanted, with no recriminations.”

“Yep! Old, young, very young, married, single, rich, poor, your employee or your boss,” Stephanie said.

“Yeah, and they’d all been previously screened,” Elizabeth said. “And you could find them all in one place.”

“Yeah, like a male supermarket!” Ann Marie joked.

“Or like in a department-store window,” said Stephanie. “You could window-shop for a man. And they would have to be returnable.”

Barbara giggled. “Yes, they’d all be posing in the window, like puppies in a pet shop. Pick me, pick me.” She giggled again. “And the women would pause to take a look at the men and move along to the next window.”

“Um-hmmm.”

“Wish there was a place like that,” Elizabeth said wistfully.

“Shopping for men would certainly keep our minds off of our own troubles,” Ann Marie said.

“But sometimes you just want to look, you know,” Barbara said.

“And if women sat around ogling men all the time…well, you know what they are called,” Stephanie said before finishing off her drink.

“Still, it would be nice if there was a place where you go to look and fantasize and maybe—” Barbara shrugged “—who knows, maybe something would happen if you wanted it to.”

“Um-hmmm.”

They looked at each other, and their faith, love and trust in their friendship stripped away any inhibitions they may have had and they began talking all at once.

They talked and ate and drank until the sun beamed through the windows of Barbara’s apartment. And they’d come up with an idea that was so far-fetched and deliciously exciting that it simply had to work.

Chapter 6

The aroma of frying bacon tickled Ann Marie’s nose. She turned on her side and tried to ignore it. She needed sleep, more sleep. She put the pillow over her head hoping that it would block out the tap, tap, tapping in her skull. She pulled her knees up to her chin. That didn’t help, either, and if she didn’t know better she’d swear someone was calling “Mama.”

Mama! Damn. She sat straight up in bed, the covers falling off her nude body, and her head did a three-sixty. She pressed her palms to her temples, hoping to slow down the spinning.

“Yes,” she croaked. Her tongue felt like a glue strip.

Her bedroom door eased open. Ann Marie pulled the sheet up to her chin.

“I fixed breakfast,” Raquel said. “I thought you might be hungry.”

“Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s okay. I wanted to.” She stepped into the room, balancing the tray.

Ann Marie looked at her daughter and saw the spitting image of the child’s father; the dark, almost haunting eyes, shadowed by sweeping black brows and a mass of hair that resembled black cotton candy. Oh, yes, Terrance was a looker and so was his daughter.

Raquel gently placed the tray on her mother’s lap. “I’ll leave you to your food.” She turned to go.

Was that a motherly pang she felt tightening her chest at the sad look in her daughter’s eyes? She felt as if she should say something, do something. But she had no idea what.

The door closed quietly behind Raquel. The moment was gone.

Ann Marie toyed with her bacon and eggs. She took a sip of orange juice. What was she going to do about Raquel? There was no way she could let her stay indefinitely. Her mama had put her out on her own at sixteen and she’d never looked back, although she’d wanted to. But her mama had been very clear about having another grown woman in the house beside her. No good, her mama said.

Her situation was different, however. There was more to it than simply having another woman in the house, even if it was her daughter. She sighed and took a bite of bacon. She couldn’t explain it to the girls and she never even voiced her fears out loud. The truth—she was afraid. She couldn’t face the look of disappointment that she knew would linger in those beautiful eyes. So instead of risking that, she would have to make Raquel go, go to wherever it was she needed to be. Anyplace other than here.

By the time Ann Marie finished her breakfast, bathed and dressed, Raquel was gone.

Ann Marie moved slowly through her one-bedroom condo. She checked the living room where Raquel spent the night. Everything was in its place. The smoked-glass tables were spotless, the pillows on the couch were properly fluffed, no dust on the wood floors, and her imported area rug was exactly where it was supposed to be. The bathroom and kitchen were equally as spotless. It was almost as if no one lived there. Almost.