Page 4 of Candid Moments
Get it together, Jamila.I think as I inhale and exhale.
Once satisfied, I place my compact back inside of my clutch then exit the restroom. When I do, Corey is in the hall, waiting for me. There’s a piece of paper or something in his hand. He steps to me as I approach.
“You need to wear this,” he says as he hands me the small paper. It’s a name tag with my first name only. My eyes roam his shirt for one but there isn’t one. He reads my mind. “Actual classmates aren’t wearing one. Part of the mixer is a bingo game of who can recognize the most classmates. To make it easier for us, all plus ones are wearing tags.”
After peeling the back of the tag off, I press the sticker on my left side. “Is it straight?” I ask him.
“It’s fine. So what happened with you and him?”
“I stumbled and fell and he helped me up.”
“I told you those shoes might be too much. It’s snowing.”
“We are inside. There’s no snow in here. But if we go outside in the snow, I have boots,” I snap because shoes are the first thing on his mind, not my wellbeing.
“Let’s go.”
He reaches his arm out and latches it with mine. When he does, I utter, “And I’m fine, not hurt at all, just in case you were wondering.”
“If you were hurt, I would have said something. You look fine; that’s the only reason I didn’t ask.” We enter the ballroom and he nods to the right. “Our table is over here.”
As we trek to the table, I scan the room. There are huge pictures on the wall, displaying old senior pictures, class photos, and candids. I even spot Corey on several of them. These pictures are ten years old and his face hasn’t changed much at all.
“You must have been the shit in high school. You’re in so many of these pics,” I comment.
“It was a small class,” he says modestly but based on the photographs, the class wasn’t that small. As soon as we approach the table, he pulls my seat out and I sit. He doesn’t join me though. Instead, he leans in and asks, “I’m going to the bar. Do you want your Melon Ball?”
“No, I need to eat before I drink something that heavy,” I admit. “Maybe a glass of wine. White, if they have it.”
Because the itinerary stated food would be served at this mixer, we didn’t eat dinner. I actually haven’t eaten since lunch. He always rants and raves about a grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwich from a spot here. So, when we landed and got the rental, he drove straight to it. While he enjoyed his grilled PB&J, I ate a delicious turkey Rueben. That was five hours ago though and I need food before I tackle any liquor.
“The servers are walking around with food. They’ve been going from table to table,” he says before standing.
Corey walks off to grab our drinks and I get comfortable in my chair. Similar to the walls, there are mini pictures on the table. The centerpiece is actually a stack of photo cubes and once again, I spot Corey. He was on every scene and many of the pictures are with the same girl, a short, cinnamon sista withglasses. From their closeness and smiles, I’m guessing they were dating.
When my eyes drift from the pictures, I notice the four people seated at the table, three ladies and one man. Two of the ladies must be class members because they aren’t wearing name tags. The beautiful, caramel lady with the long, wavy, blond tresses smiles when our eyes lock.
“So how long have you and Cornelius been together?”
Cornelius? Is she talking about my Corey?
“I’m sorry but who?”
She squints then looks back over her shoulder toward the bar. When her face returns forward, she says, “Cornelius Wright” andwow!
She’s definitely referring to Corey. I’ve been with this man for almost two years and I only know him as Corey Wright. We’ve worked together on a few campaigns and every one in his office calls him Corey as well. He never mentioned his name is Cornelius. I was told he was Corey Wright, no middle name.
I’m speechless. My words are caught in my throat and this woman is looking at me for answers. Sadly, I have none. I’ve been with Corey Wright for one and a half years. I can’t answer her for Cornelius. Thankfully, or maybe not so thankfully, Corey returns with our drinks. He places them on the table then sits in the chair beside me. When he slides my drink over to me, I don’t budge.
“The white wine wasn’t the best so I got you a sangria. The fruit should help it,” he says then nudges the drink closer to me. Still, I don’t budge. I’m truly in disbelief right now. He hadto know his classmates would call him Cornelius, so why not tell me. Why not spill the beans before leaving me at a table with two of his classmates? This doesn’t make sense.
“Cornelius,” blondie calls out and he lifts his head.Again, wow!“Just wanted to make sure that was you. I’m trying to win this game. I need you to sign my card for proof.” She smirks as she speaks but I ignore her. My focus is on him.
“You got a pen?” he asks as if this Cornelius shit isn’t foreign to me.
Suddenly, I find my voice. After placing my hand on his leg to grab his attention, I lean closer and say, “I have a pen, Cor-ne-li-us. Would you like my pen, Cor-ne-li-us?” Each time I make sure to over enunciate his name, being hella extra.
“Not now, Jamila,” he grits through closed teeth.
