Page 49 of King of Players

An impulse drove my thumb to scroll over to her name on my contact list, sliding to call her. But my better judgment soon took over, ending the endeavor before it actually started to ring. Holding my breath, I stared at the bright screen for a moment. That was when a decision followed—I wished I could erase her number and name from my life, but I was bound with a business agreement. So, instead, I edited her contact file to read ‘Foundation Lady’.

Perhaps if I didn’t actually see her name, I would stop thinking of her as Kaira, the woman whose very existence plagued my mind, hanging on like a leech and refusing to let go.

And then a disturbing thought occurred to me as I suddenly recalled the dream I’d had during my nap. We were making love. She had different hair—bigger, wilder. Her green eyes were on fire. Her skin glowed like a creature from another dimension.

Why hadn’t I remembered the dream when I’d woken up, and why did it come to me now?

But then I heard Abel say to Nathan, “Yes, I was told Mario Solis is going to be at Kaira Bradley’s luncheon on Thursday. It’ll be the perfect chance to discuss it.”

Was that what feeling left out was like?

nineteen

Warm in Winter

Kaira

Over the past six months, and as the full throttle of winter raged on, I had been working diligently with Marvin on unlocking the puzzle boxes of my mind. As he had once suggested; we took out every item and examined it, no matter how painful or taxing the process was.

There were sessions where I had laughed hysterically, and others where my emotions remained restrained. He once made an observation that I hadn’t yet been “able to cry”, and I shrugged it off as a minor detail—a stereotype that reduced awakenings to moments of weeping breakdowns. I told him that he, of all people, should know that everyone handled emotions differently.

My thoughts of Chad had gradually transformed, from anger to resignation, and from acceptance to a longing for the memory he had made possible. If God had sent Chad my way in the manner that he did, it might have been only as a vessel that brought some insights. A reason for me to keep searching within myself. A man to show me that all of my relationships with men had been good, but not amazing.

I now knew that love and sex could have the ability to blow my mind, and that I was never going to find them by actively searching. God and the universe worked in mysterious ways, and I could only remain receptive and keep an open mind and heart.

Wide to receive, I began to adopt a more flexible attitude to everything I did in life. Whether it was work, friendships or relationships with acquaintances, I started to be consciously aware of how things made me feel, and adjust them accordingly. If something felt heavy, then it might have required a closer look. When I couldn’t do it, then I shouldn’t; I was free—well, mostly—to lead my life in the way that I had pleased. I didn’t need to remain accountable to obsolete values that no longer served me as a woman. And as long as I remained within the zone of comfort and contentment, without infringing on anyone’s rights to the same, then I was on the right path.

It was important to also observe my level of realism in all of this. I couldn’t afford to be delusional, or to dupe myself into believing that I was completely over Chad. My once adolescent dreams of the beautiful boy from college were now replaced with ones of Chad Niles—all adult and much more satisfying. At least once a month, my handsome dream man visited me with reminders of why I should never settle for less.

So, when Oscar eventually decided to get in touch with me last week, it felt like talking to an old friend from another time. I held no grudges, felt no resentment, and welcomed the voice from the past that had loved the Kaira that I used to be when I didn’t know any better. That was why, when I was asked to meet for a friendly dinner, I enthusiastically agreed.

And tonight was the night.

Sticking to my comfortable habit, I chose a modest, airy dress and gathered my locks up with a clip. I paired my outfit with a silk scarf that had once belonged to my grandmother, and a modern coat that complimented the look.

As I perfected my light makeup in front of the mirror, I received a text from Oscar with the name of the restaurant. We had agreed to meet there, since the place was in the same building where Oscar’s new apartment was.

When I arrived, he was waiting there for me with his usual smile. Only a few new lines had claimed their spots by the corners of his mouth. “Turned forty, huh?” I asked as we hugged. “How does it feel?”

Pulling the chair for me, he chortled. “Wiser, not that I feel any older.”

“That’s unusual.” I giggled, watching him unbutton his blazer to sit down across from me. “Most people start suffering with the joints.”

“You wish!” he joked. A waitress brought us an aperitif.

My eyes landed on the bottle and something inside me felt warm and fuzzy. “Aww! You still remember my favorite.”

“We did live together for a year, Kaira. You don’t forget these things.”

I nodded with a careful smile. As I picked up my glass, I asked, “How’s the book doing?”

“Not as great as I’d wanted,” he admitted, although with no remorse. “But you know me. I keep my expectations in check.”

“Never one to have high hopes.” I took a sip, savoring the flavor. “But I’ll have you know that I’m forcing eight women to buy your book.”

“Still running your book club, I see.”

“Why would I ever stop? It’s fascinating how everyone sees things through a completely different lens. Can you believe that someone once said to me, ‘I think Gibran is the most overrated writer in history?’ and she meant it?”

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