There was no other way for us to go with this thing, but up. Even still, knowing my fickle ways, he could not resist my fun, my funny, our sweet time together, and my charm.
Idealistic and structured, Rem had a plan for himself-a plan for his life. Even if not for a life with him, if any woman was to be apart of him, she too, had to have a plan for life-period.
I knew nothing of the sort.
I was just taking everything one day at a time—come what may.
But day after day, our closeness and friendship escalated closer than close, then into a relationship without yet declaring it—meticulously on his part.
Knowing how frivolous my heart was, he totally handled me with kid-gloves-but still, right under his wing, rather than from a ten foot pole. He was hopeful that my heart would land—with him.
In the beginning, he felt the need to call me nearly every third hour or so-just checking in to see what I was doing; trying to learn my pattern outside of what he had known for the years that we had been friends—declared.
By this time, I was into more sophisticated jobs other than the marketing and telemarketing gigs he and I had run all through. Yet, at this time-education (first) was what he was on.
He felt like having an education was key to a certain kind happiness and security in a life ever after, be it married or single. He was hell bent on following through with his plan.
No matter where I was: at work on breaks and lunches, my mom’s or at my house; we would spend a lot of time solidifying future plans for his future, my future and “our future together”—he’d declare.
He wanted me to be willing and ready, and for us to have a plan that was not just a plan, but a plan being put into action as we grew together. Nothing wrong with that, but in the back of my mind, college was the farthest thing from it, because I had been so caught up into the cycle of working and making money, paying bills, having a cozy place to live with a car to drive. That just seemed like “life” to me, and as long as I could have some money in the bank and a job to work; then I would be afforded those things.
That was “life”—one day at a time.
That was “living”—to me.
My life was different than my fairytale life that once was, and seemed like light-years from dreams deferred. And in the moment of life happening and going on is where I stood.
But because I felt a special kind of peace around and in me with Remedy, I stood behind him—letting him run this show of ours.
He understood everything that I did say, just as well as he knew how to read between the lines of all that I would not say. But he was insistent on being a friend in my life but having me as his wife in the end.
Yes, he knew that I was sort of with Mitch, who I couldn’t peel off from me since that day. I liked Mitch a lot, but he came in at a sexually opportune time because mentally and emotionally, I was with Remedy although Remedy and I had never been intimate.
Rem always trumped everyone-no matter what. I had respect for him-as a man, as a human being and as a person, and he, the same for me.
My situation with Rem worked out well because going in to it, I owed Mitch no more of an explanation of where Rem stood with me than Mitch owed me any explanation of who, if anyone, he was seeing.
Remedy however, I knew what was up-as did he with me.
Remedy had a child, whose mother knew where I stood with him and what our history was.
Everybody in this square, no triangle, knew their position.
In the beginning of all this, by this time, though Mitch wasn’t living with me, he would be over a lot.
It was common for him to know that anytime the phone was pressed against my ear, Rem would most probably be on the other side of it.
Rem’s child’s mom knew the same over on their end of the world as well-whether she was at his house or he, at hers. It was just like that.
Although serious about life, Remedy was fun, with an awesome sense of humor. He wasn’t into having a bunch of drama and confusion. Wherever he was, he demanded that he be respected as the man that his presence commanded. And he was man enough to know that with that expectation, honesty was very necessary. So, I had no choice but to be the same way too-where Mitch was concerned, therefore, Mitch had to be okay with him—it was a requirement.
In a nutshell, I had my own place and my “kinda-boyfriend” and Remedy had his own place a “kinda-girlfriend.”
She knew that his first interest was in being a good father and making sure that she too, was okay. So with that, she had a place in his life. So, she, like Mitch, had to be okay with me—it was a requirement.
It wouldn’t be ‘til the death of Remedy, that I would soon put together what he was most probably grooming me for.
Until then however, life went on.
Between Lucky, work, friends and Mitch, quality time with Remedy would be spent at his place on Saturday and Sundays because most often during the week, our lives and schedules would be so tied up, that those two days would be the best we could do to squeeze each other in.
We looked forward to each and every moment of it too.
It was always emotional and romantic—peaceful, and spiritual over all.
I never allowed myself to feel or share that kind of intimacy with anyone. I never liked men sleeping in the bed with me. But it felt natural with Rem.
It would be so fun to be cuddled under his tight grasp-laying in his bed after a complete afternoon or evening of him cooking for me, me helping him clean his house, do his laundry, fold his clothes and giving him massages.
I would love to stand behind him and hold him close while I would rub my hands all over his narrow chest as if he was a big man: tall as the clouds and wide as the sea. When I would hold him, he reminded me of something so great and so big. He felt like something massive in my arms, through and through. I would rub all over him like he was this never-ending piece of something-trying hard to not miss a spot. He would laugh and blush. I could feel what he was feeling on the inside, right there in my arms and hands. The fact that we hadn’t even made love yet, made it even better.
On occasion, I would serenade him, our two favorite old school songs: Lalah Hathaway-’I’m Coming Back” and Howard Hewett- “Show Me.”
I would straddle him, and lay on his chest-froggystyle. Like a baby, sometimes he would cuff me under the arms in full-nelson style while I would be face to neck-singing in his ear.
Other times, he would be gripping me around my waist while I would sing to him. I loved it that he never cuffed, grabbed or touched my ass. That scored points many points with me.
I secretly loved him so much that every time I would get to the Lalah Hathaway song line and would sing “I wanna be there for you, through the thick and thin, through the very end…so when you feel the need for love, reach out and call me. I wanna be by your side, day and night through the rest of our life…so open up your heart for me…I’m coming back for you…”
And the Howard Hewitt song line, and would sing:
“…but before I go on….Oooh (boy) you’ve…got…to let me know…just…how far…to let this go…help me. Darling please show me…how I can love you. You’ve got…to take my hand…show me that…you’ll understand…help me. Show me.”
…my heart would be so full. It would be like he could feel my pulse and read my mind right through my heart beating to his chest.
Even if I would sing him to sleep, habitually, when I would sing the line: You’ve got…to take my hand…show me that…you’ll understand…help me. Show me.”
…he would always grab my hands and lay there stretched out, or take my hands in his and place them atop my lower back with him refusing to let go-squeezing like he was checking for pulse there, too.
We were so quietly romantic. Rem and I would do so much communicating that our quiet times were romantically nonverbal at all times.
He seemed to fall so much more in love with me after I first serenaded him. He sat up in bed one day and said “Angie, I had no idea all these years that you could sing!” I giggled.
“It’s just a trip that no matter what, every single day, for all these years I learn something new about you-like it’s never going to end. And that’s why I keep you near. I need you. You are such a refreshing thing to me. A challenge for me and a challenge for myself in so many ways Angie-you just have no idea,” he said-while staring into my eyes and holding my cheeks in his hand like he was holding his favorite bowl of cereal.
Other times when I would be over, I would look out from the third floor window on the bed where we would lay, out to where Remedy’s baby’s mama would be patiently waiting for me to leave.
It would be sad sometimes; my comings, my goings, my while-there’s, or after-naps with Rem, she would hang out in her car patiently—for hours.
It only took one time to understand how this things would go:
“Remy. You know Neesha’s parked outside. “
Remy: “If something was wrong with Madison, she would call. No worries baby.”
“She’s awful patient” I would want to say-after looking out 2, 3, 4, and 5 hours later.
I wouldn’t though. I knew Rem had it all under control.
It was weird.
I had never seen someone so patiently defiant in all my life. She was fierce with that shit.
It was almost as if doing so, would assure herself that with just enough patience and tenacity; all those hours amounted up to putting in some emotional time bank that would deduct from my emotional time spent with him, eventually.
When arriving or leaving, respectfully, I would address her by name-tell her “hello,” and she would give me that same half smile: half hurt, half understanding, but would address me by name-just the same, respectfully.
Whenever Mitch would be over, and Rem would call, Mitch would have massive conniption fits. Rem was always respectful to Mitch-just as BabyMama was always respectful to me. Rem was a respectable man-period. The way he handled all things, and the way he conducted himself around his work, play or at love. Nobody disrespected Rem, and Mitch knew better.
Like BabyMama, Mitch was, too, was understandably defiant. He would pop-off at the mouth in some way or another. And every time, Rem would kindly put him in his place, like a man redirecting some pre-teen smellin’ himself.
Remy conducted himself like he had money and power-even while merely working towards simply having something out of life. I never even knew if money or power was the goal. He just carried himself like he already had it.
Yet, in all my immaturity and naivete, secretly, Mitch was kind of like a human shield from me being all the way in with Rem. It was good to have Mitch around because with him and a dash of BabyMama, I could put up in front of me: a shield to guard me away from those responsibilities and (reasonable) demands that Rem would place upon me-necessary for a better life regardless whether or not it was with or without him—but preferably with him.
Truth be told, secretly, I couldn’t bit more see those things anymore than I could remember my fairytale life as-was. Sometimes it was too much for me to deal with, and Mitch became another kind of convenience than the one he originally served since that night that officially brought him into my life.
Rem tried hard not to make me feel pressured.
He did not want to impose upon me-himself or his dreams for me and him, without having my full and willing participation. Oh how I wished that he would just let this love “be,” just let it happen, without the plan and the guidelines that came with it.
I wasn’t willing to fight for that but I was willing to fight to keep him.
He was so perfect for me. We loved each other truly-madly-deeply.
Rem was willing enough, man enough, and mature enough to correct errors in my ways when he discovered any. I never respected anyone like I respected him, and I knew that he was really team: Me. But at the same time, was team: Him-not willing to accept just-anything just to be team: Me.
Over the years even as friends, Rem knew that he was a bit much for my head, but when we solidified our thing, he did not want to lose me. For me, he tried so hard to oblige me by taking “us” (our lives and situations “as it was”) one day at a time. Yet, on his part, a full plan was in action and always was-even before me. He wanted to facilitate the ‘Me’ part.
Although I did not know quite how to communicate what I was feeling-to him, I do know that I had it in me to communicate to him: “let’s let this love “be,” “happen,” and work towards a one-a-day kind of plan, just to see where it leads us.”
Sure, I could have communicated that to him. I know that because he loved me and did not want to lose me; he would have certainly obliged. He had a plan when he came to me, and he had that same plan when he fell in love with me. So, for the love and keepsake of me, he would have obliged-I know this. But in the end, I also know that he would have resented me for it because I told him that I was with the plan but secretly knew I was straddling the fence, just hoping that my love for him would be enough for him to take me one day at a time—less the plans and such.
He was a man first, a man with a plan second, who happened to find and fall in love with a woman without a plan, whom he took on to fit into his plan-but put her first.
Rem needed to recalibrate and stay focused. He had a lot going on. I never wanted to be a distraction for him and was thoroughly prepared for the day that he redeemed his “recalibration” card if need be. The last thing I ever wanted to be somewhere in his mind was a temptation that he would later regret or a distraction from now.
Although we still talked on the phone, we took a short break from one another while Rem was working, going to school and moving into his new place.
He couldn’t wait to talk to me and wanted me over for dinner, where he baked some salmon, sprinkled with basil and olive oil, steamed broccoli and whipped up his homemade mashed potatoes that he liked to brag about.
As our food digested and the fun and laughter was ingested, the mood of the room turned very serious, although no one was there but the two of us. I got so nervous, because this moment-this night-was like we were on our first date although we had been on many and had been alone too many times to count.
The music was low.
In this moment, we were both feeling kind of “well-rehearsed” for this night, however, feeling a bit stage fright I guess-mostly on my part. I sat on his couch wiggling my feet that barely touched the floor. My hands were tightly closed between my legs. I kept smiling and glancing at him from the corners of my eyes back and forth; giggling like some shy kid. I couldn’t help it. I was so embarrassed. I think he meant to intimidate me for that moment-with all his seriousness. I loved him purely. I respected him so, if that was his intention-it worked. He was watching me the whole time with a serious look on his face and finger to his temple.
With my shoulders up as if I was feeling a cool breeze, I continued to swing my little feet from the tall couch. He reached over to touch my arm. I didn’t budge-I tried to ignore it. He rubbed it delicately again, and scooted close to me. He then kissed my lips.
I swear I know now, what Celie felt when Shug Avery reached to kissed her-simply to show her what true love and affection felt like. I was in a full-on Celie moment. I understood. I really understood. He was Shug. I was Celie-shaking.
I received him by relaxing my hands and body as he rubbed my shoulder and arms; squeezing and pushing them upwards as if he was protecting me.
I was shaking uncontrollably.
“Angie, are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah Remedy, I’m okay, I’m okay,” I replied.
He whispered all the right things into my ear while he stood me up to slow dance with me:
“Angie it has been torture for me. I have waited for this night for so many years. I have dreamed about being able to give to you what you deserve. I want to do that here and now. I want to do that later. I want to do that for life.
Right now, I don’t want you to do anything but give you-me, and let me have you. And after this night, I don’t want to let you go-ever,” he whispered to me.
Still nervous, I was shaking like a virgin.
He then lay me down and kissed me deeply, intensely and gently from head to toe, as if I was some fragile piece of porcelain and high priced artwork that he cherished. He was so gentle, and patient and well rehearsed for this moment with me-I could tell. I could feel.
I noticed that he laid his kisses longest on my lips, my eyes, my cheeks, my breasts and my “war scar:” my cesarean mark on my stomach. That place had always been off limits because I never felt comfortable being kissed or touched there. It was too sacred to me. I did not push him away from it though, I relaxed when he did-and I never allowed that to happen.
Rem knew my story behind it, so I felt safe.
I never allowed anyone to kiss my lips that way because I did not like to kiss anyone deeply and passionately like that unless I really loved them and in turn, I knew they really loved me.
That kind of kiss hadn’t happened since I was a virgin and shared it with Santana ions ago.
Gradually, kiss by kiss-like a natural kiss is supposed to be, Rem kissed me deeper and deeper.
At its height, he kissed me with such sensual nonverbal communication like we were know to do-kissing me as if he was invading my space; daring me to reject him so that he could grab me and say: “You had better not dismiss my kiss because I know that you love me-and you know that I love you!”
I was just never one for men laying an open-mouthed kiss on me simply because he liked or thought he loved me. That French-kissing shit-no way. A sensual kiss would do. French kissing and passionate kisses, for me, are more intimate than sex and oral sex.
Yet, I did not have a problem being intimate with Rem.
He kissed me deeply and passionately-I kissed him back: deeply and passionately.
He French-kissed me-I French-kissed him back.
“I have loved you since the very day we met Angie,” Rem said to me.
My heart fluttered and stuttered. I longed to hear him actually say what I already knew just about as much I wanted to say to him but could only sing and let the songs cry and tell him.
In that moment, he refused to let me do anything-he just wanted to let me lay there and be totally taken care of from head to toe, front to back, inside and out. He wanted it all. He wanted to do it all. Just when he was about to enter me-tip: there, he gasped with the finality of a new beginning. This moment meant a lot to him. I could tell. I could feel.
His lips were trembling and placed upon mine, his tears in his eyes rolled down mine. It was such and intense, and deeply intimate moment for the both of us.
I could feel the talks he was having with himself:
“Is this going to make her act right and follow the plan?”
“Am I doing this out of impatience and simply being ‘a man’?”
He couldn’t hold back anymore.
We were forehead to forehead, nose to nose, lip to lip. I arched my back, opened my legs so more and whispered to answer those inner questions I know were sitting at the tip of his dick and front of his mind. “Remy. No regrets. I promise. No regrets. I promise, you Remy “ I cried.
Right that very second, before he could go for it and even THINK, the phone rang, I
FROM THE NOT YET PUBLISHED PREQUEL / BOOK 2 “Angie Situation” trilogy
BOOK 1- PUBLISHED:
TABLE of CONTENTS
- The Roots of Picked Fruit 17
- The Precocious Ripening 33
- Ripe & Ready. Gangs, Bangs & Pangs 39
- The Queen Bee in Me 63
- Another Level. Blossoming. Beautiful. 80
- TGGF, Male Model & Me 101
- TGGF & Me 112
- Divorcing Dad 124
- You Know Who 130
- First Flings First 139
- In the Lion’s Den 170
- Cold Shoulders and Frozen Dancing Feet 195
- Pills & Frills 204
- You Know What: I Told You So 209
- Dichotomies & Dazes 228
- Situations, Decisions & Transitions 241
- Up, Out & Away 244
MEET the AUTHOR Q & A 254
READING GROUP GUIDE 257
SNEAK PEEK into book2 (“Angie Situation NAIVETE’” )’s CHAPTER ONE 260
OTHER BOOKS BY ANGELA SHERICE 269
ABOUT the AUTHOR 270
Media Maestro .
Writing Rhinoceros .