Page 16 of Ms. V's Hot Girl Summer

I hope she did because there was no way I would.

SEVEN

Trinidad

The amount of patience and bandwidth I spent these past two weeks had me exhausted. My client had decided to change his event date, with two thousand people attending and a month and a half to go. It created such chaos and confusion that I worked nonstop, staying awake till past midnight, cajoling vendors and providers via email to switch their dates with minimal budgetary impact because my client also thought I walked over water and would get everything changed with no additional cost to him.

One particular vendor was giving me the run for my money. Anxiety coursed through me as we negotiated the date move for the tenth time. My flight boarding time loomed in the back of my mind as I finally managed to get the vendor to cooperate. Cursing my client’s zodiac sign, his father, mother, and anyone who thought he was a good person, I kept it brief as I had no time left to get to the airport.

My plane to get to the closest airport to Ofele for the boys’ cheerleading presentation was not gonna wait for an overworked mom and event professional. Thank God my ride was already waiting downstairs. Hopping on, I was lucky to get the fastest, most imaginative driver in the city. He got me to JFK in less than thirty minutes and accelerated my heart rate so much that I recorded a thirty-minute workout.

Powering through with my rollaway, I flew by thousands of travelers, some jittery and excited about their trips, the buzz of their excitement melding with the soft instrumental music blaring through the hidden sound system in their airport. Many business people sped by with stony faces, clearly hating every second they spent in the brightly lit building. And then there were people just like me, hassled and trying to catch their flight on time. A mix of luck and preparation saved me thirty minutes as I cruised through TSA pre-check.

An hour and a half after the meeting and five thousand steps later, I was sitting on my flight, ready for Florida and my cheerleading mom duties. The twins had been oddly quiet. Not one text checking in on me, as they usually did when I traveled. My cell phone lit in the dim cabin, displaying no text messages. My heart still hammered in my chest, my breathing so fractured, I vowed to up my cardio sessions starting next Monday.

Me: I’m on the plane departing now. See you soon!

Sweet oxygen coursed through my system as I shot a quick text to Miranda. Finding no reprieve to my anxiety, I opened my text thread with Milton. We spoke hours ago…and then he left me on read.

Milton: The welcome reception is in a couple of hours. I think Imma rest a little in case you write to me, I might be asleep.

A cracked tooth was not what I needed right before this competition, so I unclenched my jaw and let my chest fill with the recycled plane air.

Me: Thank you for wishing me a good flight.

Milton: You wouldn’t have had to deal with airports if you came with me. I am going to nap now.

My temples throbbed at the casual dismissal.

Milton, what was I going to do about this man? The moment I told him I couldn’t go on his work trip, things went from warm to frosty.

I got it, I was disappointed too. His refusal to come along instead of gallivanting to his optional work trip stung. Attempting to find a middle ground and giving him another opportunity to bond with the twins, I invited him to join me in Florida. But deep down, I knew he’d deny me.

Those high hopes I had when I met Milton had been morphing into dread. I didn’t know why. Milton was exactly what I needed in my life. He was all green flags; all my boxes were ticked by him. So why, why did his name glowing on my screen make my stomach rumble and coldness cruise through my veins?

This feeling of vague disenchantment was not normal this early in a relationship.

I remember how excited I was when I met my ex-husband. How helplessly in love. The signs, I missed them all. Missed that he was looking for community, shelter, and love, that he was emotionally immature, and that he only knew how to use. All the things he needed I foolishly provided. And as I poured myself,allof myself, into him, he never poured in return. My glass ended up empty while he left me behind to figure out other ways to be fulfilled.

The well-being of my children was my main priority. The second priority was living my life in sexual chaos. I went out on one-night stands, partied during the weekends. Any activity that ended with me getting well sexed at the end of the day.

A single mother, desperate for attention and love, like the love I knew my parents had. I searched for it in the wrong ways. Protecting my heart became my priority, so I shared my body instead. My sexuality, the dusty old bat, discovered under cobwebs and neglect. A hidden flower, the one thing my ex could not use all up. And I let it flourish.

Until it threatened to overtake my focus.

Needing a change, I traded my old ways. I stopped going to parties; I stopped shielding my heart. I healed. And then I met Milton. My experience told me that even though I didn’t feel those old butterflies for Milton that had frolicked in my belly during my first marriage, I didn’t need them anymore.

Infatuation blinded you to the reality of the red flags. So, I fell in love with the feeling of comfort and peace. But now those feelings had decided to abandon me. Instead of peace, dread had moved in.

Maybe not having the same tingle in my stomach as the first time I fell in love was a good thing. Maybe never feeling it again was the key. But I had felt it again. Just last night.

Last night…it had been so good to chill and talk to Orlando about the boys in a way that I couldn’t get anybody else to, except for Miranda. The flutters in my stomach had intensified as I basked in the recognition Orlando provided. He saw me and saw my children. He understood, without words, what I was trying to accomplish in life. Why did it have to be a twenty-five-year-old who was starting to live? Why couldn’t I find the same connection with anyone else? And why did he have to be so lean, sturdy, and chocolaty smooth…

Trinidad, portate bien.

That boy was so irresponsible. His mom was sick, and here he was, gallivanting to some type of party somewhere in Florida instead of being with his family. That is not what I needed. What I needed was stability. Banishing thoughts of butterflies in my stomach, I instead focused on Milton’s steadfastness.

Me: Hey, Milton, I’m on the plane. Last chance to change your mind.

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