Hunter
Hunter rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans. He shifted the seat closest to him again, trying to angle it perfectly. He set the radio volume low to a station they’d recently discovered, and both loved.
“Hey,” Liz said, surveying his little set-up with a nod. She swallowed, filling him with equal parts worry and relief. At least it meant he wasn’t paranoid, but then again, if she was also freaking out, there was something serious to panic about.
“Hey,” he walked up to her, standing right before her, loving how she immediately met his eyes. “We’re just talking.” He said, trying to inject lightness into the situation.
She laughed, “It’s just talking the way people looking for unexploded mines are taking a leisurely walk in a field.”
He wrapped her in a tight hug, his right hand massaging her bald head down to her soft neck. They stood like that for a few minutes before she pulled away.
“Let’s do this.”
“Okay,” he pulled out her chair for her, then moved to sit across from her.
“Ladies first,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Okay.” She said, smiling. “Chicken.” She stage-whispered under her breath, pulling out a small stack of cards from her jeans pocket and placing them on the table.
She looked at the first one intently, then looked at him. “Do we have enough sex?”
Hunter smiled, rubbing his chin. “Starting off easy, I like this. It portends good things. Hmmmh I think we do alright. Heck, we do great. I just don’t know that there’s any such thing as enough sex, you know. You’re delightful, I’m a tad greedy, so I could always have more.” He tilted his head towards her, “And I dare say, so could you.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself.” She protested.
He nodded. “Do you think we have enough sex?”
She cleared her throat, imitating him, “I think we do alright. Heck, we do great.”
He laughed. “I do not sound like that.”
She laughed. “I guess I agree. I could always go for more, I guess. The spirit is always willing, the body on the other hand, is approaching middle-age. It’s been through a lot.”
“And still, it’s positively yummy, delectable I tell you.“
She bowed in a mock curtsy, preening at his compliments.
He reached for one card from his own little stack then leaned back in his seat, projecting calmness. “This should be fun. Tell me about the first time we met.”
“That’s not fair. You know how we met. You’re supposed to ask questions you do not know the answer to.”
“That wasn’t the deal. The deal was we get 10 questions each that the other has to answer honestly.”
“That’s not a question.”
“Okay. What do you remember about the night we met?”
“I remember being heartbroken and drunk as a skunk. I had no business leaving the house, much less going to that house party. I remember seeing you across the room.” She smiled ruefully. “I don’t know why but my addled brain convinced me to kiss you, which apparently I walked across the room and did.”
“I was there, I can confirm you did,” he said beaming at her. “You walked up to me, touched my face, and pulled my beard. Then you said…”
She buried her face in her hands, groaning.
“You said, do you taste as good as you look?” He finished, relishing her embarrassment.
“Oh, my God.”
“I said, why don’t you find out? Then you lay one on me and I was hooked.”
“Ughhh… Thank God it’s over.” She reached for her next card. “I’m never doing that again.”
“What? Picking me up or getting wasted?”
“I’ll always pick you up.”
He reached over, covering her hand with his. “I just want you to know… I’m so glad we met. I’m so glad you walked up to me and kissed me. I love our story, all of it. The embarrassing messy bits, the sad ones and most especially the happy ones. I love you.”
He leaned closer, then bent, kissing her hand with a reverence that brought sudden tears to her eyes.
“I love you, too.” She said, voice shaky.
Liz
Liz exhaled heavily, then cleared her throat. “How does your family really feel about us?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, confirming her suspicion that he’d been lying to her about it, or at the very least, glossing over it all.
“They’re not fans. They think I’m throwing my life away staying here. Think I’ll regret it.”
“What do you think?”
“That’s two questions?”
She eyed him, silent.
“When I took the job, it was supposed to be six months of working in an exotic new place. Except I liked it here and then I met you and that sealed the deal for me. Are my prospects better in the US? Yes. Does it make more sense career-wise to go back? Yes. But I like my life here, I like myself here and I like you. Will I regret it? Maybe, who knows? Life is full of regrets. I want you to meet them. I want them to meet you. I don’t care if it’s not love at first sight. This life is full of pain and suffering, and I am fortunate to have a family that loves and cares for me, and now I have you. I just want to be where the love is. I want to be where I feel alive and whole and at what approximates peace, and that’s by your side. I mean it when I say it’s no sacrifice at all.” He reached for her hands, eyes searching hers. “I’m happy about it.”
The look was so piercing her breath caught. She nodded. “Okay. Your turn.”
He bent low over the table, kissing her hands with a reverence that brought tears to her eyes.
He picked the card at the top of his little pile, then quickly slipped it to the bottom of the pile.
“Read that one.” She said.
He shook his head, his head bent over the cards, then held up the next card.
Liz reached out and grabbed his cards, swiftly sliding them under her thighs. He reached out to grab them, then reconsidered. She retrieved them, eyes on him. He made no effort to reach for the cards. Instead, he looked suddenly defeated, resigned to whatever was coming.
She read the question, her heart-stopping, a chill running through her.
“This was why you wanted to play this game, right?” she accused in a near whisper.
He said nothing, his hand rubbing his neck.
“Are you ashamed of me?” Hunter finally asked when she made no effort to read the question out loud.
“No.”
“That’s it? You’re going to say no and leave it at that?”
Liz wanted to rail at him, but the vulnerability in his voice wouldn’t allow her.
“I don’t know what to say to convince you.” She replied with a shrug.
“What am I supposed to think, Liz? We’ve been dating for what, 8 months?” He started counting off with his fingers. “You cut your hair. You won’t introduce me to your friends or family. You refuse to go out with me. The only time you want to hang out is when it’s just you and me inside these four walls. We bump into Preston and you get a fucking panic attack. What am I supposed to think?”
“I’m not ashamed of you.”
“Then what?” He got up and started pacing, agitated. “Why are we doing this if you won’t be honest with me?”
“Colonized.” Liz swallowed, fighting the lump in her throat. “Preston called me colonized. Everyone thinks that when they see me and sometimes I think that too. When I was a kid, girls who were too outspoken or contrarian were told they would never get married except if they got a white man. White people’s PR in those days was in peak condition. White men allegedly were better partners, and they let women be, even supported them if you can believe it. Sometimes, sometimes I think I hit on you in that club because deep down I believed that nonsense. If I’m ashamed of anyone, it’s me, not you.”
Liz shifted in her seat. “The reason I haven’t introduced you around is I’m trying to be respectful to Preston. We were engaged, and everyone knew about us. I’m just giving him and them time. Also, you may not realize this, but everywhere we go, you’re white and I’m black. I know they are strangers, and I shouldn’t care about what they think, but everywhere we go, I am the Kenyan woman dating a white man for his money or for status or whatever other shallow thing. That’s all everyone sees. That’s all I am out there. You do not see the eyes, the judgment, I do. All day, every day, everywhere we are and I hate it”
“You’re ashamed of yourself for dating me. How’s that different from being ashamed of me?”
“What do you want me to say? I do not know how else to explain things to you.”
“I can’t do this,” he said, walking to the door.
“You said that people pretend and you said they never let anyone see them. This is me and that is you leaving.”
He turned to face her.
“I’m not saying that to guilt you into staying.” She added, meeting his broken gaze. Her heart breaking at the sight of it, at the realization that this was how it would end.
“I’m not leaving because you showed me who are.” He walked back to his chair and sat facing her. “I get what you’re saying and I know I’ll never know what it feels like for you. I’ll never experience it. Still, this internal turmoil you have going, you’re going to figure out. You’re going to exorcise that colonial mindset and you’re going to leave me. And Liz, I’m going to be crushed, I’m going to be devastated. That’s why I’m leaving. None of this is serious for you. It’s why you feel nothing about hiding me from your friends and family. You will get this shit figured out, then go find yourself a respectable Kenyan man. Deep down, you know it’s true.”
“It’s not,” she said, throat tight with unshed tears. “That is not true. That’s not what I’m doing.”
Then the tears started. She swiped them away, angry that she had broken. “This is serious for me. You are serious to me. This is real. It’s not a game or an experiment to exorcise whatever away. You have to believe me.”
He cradled his head in his hands, silent.
“Hunter, please.”
He said nothing, her heart dropping, as she fought back the avalanche of tears threatening to destroy the remnants of the breached banks. She only needed to hold it together until he left. He would leave and then she’d let it all out.
Liz closed her eyes, rubbing her temples, refusing to open her eyes when she heard him move. She couldn’t watch him leave. She couldn’t do it.
She felt his arms go around her, as he pulled her close, and cracked her eyes open to find him seated on the table. He pulled the chair as close as it would get so she was snug between his thighs. Then the banks broke, and she was ugly-crying on his chest, snort and all as he rubbed her back, his breathing controlled like he was in a yoga class.
“It’s okay. We’re going to be okay.” He said kissing her neck, and her bald head.
“You’re not leaving?” she whispered.
“No. As long as you want me, I’m here. We’ll figure it out.”
“I want you here,” she said, looking up at him, needing him to see it in her eyes.
“Good. Because I really want to be here.”
“Even with all the snot?”
“Even with all the snot.” He said, kissing the tip of her nose.
“Can we call the game already?“
“Yes.“
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