The List (3 page)

Nicole chimed in, “Plus, I've seen you shoot down guys at church.”

My eyes widened. “Shoot down guys? What are you talking about?”

Nicole pointed a finger at me. “What's that guy's name in the youth ministry who's always trying to talk to you after service? Darryl, Derrick? He's single, attractive, available, yet every time he's around, you avoid him like the plague.”

“Derrick's not interested in me. He's just . . . he's . . .”

Nicole put her hands on her hips. “He always stares at you, makes a point of talking to you every chance he gets. He's definitely interested.”

“And what about the guy in the bookstore?” Lisa added. “You guys always talk about your favorite books and music, but then you cut him off and rush away when he tries to take the conversation elsewhere. You don't give guys a chance.”

“You two are reading into stuff,” I said. “They're not interested. They're just being nice.”

“How do you know, if you don't give them a chance? You make a guy afraid to approach you.” Nicole folded her arms. “Guys gotta know they have half a chance to get the confidence to step to you. If they feel like they're gonna be rejected, you can forget it. You get labeled as unapproachable, and that's it.”

I thought about it for a second. Was I unapproachable?

Vanessa looked at me intently. I could see the psychologist wheels turning in her head.

“What Vanessa? Psychoanalyze me, oh wise one.”

She narrowed her eyes but then smiled. “You're whining about how much you're waiting and trusting God to send you a man, but sounds like He's sent you at least two possibles who you've shot down without giving a chance. I have to wonder how many others there have been, and why you're running them off.”

I sat and pondered that for a minute. Was I self-sabotaging? “I guess I need to look at that.” I grabbed a cluster of grapes off the tray.

Vanessa looked around at all of us. “Are any of you guys a part of the singles' ministry?”

Angela raised a finger at the same time that Nicole blurted out, “Please—who wants to be a member of the desperate-and-lonely club?”

I winced.

Angela said, “Why do you have to call it that?”

Nicole made an apologetic face. “I'm just saying. It's a bunch of women that ain't got no man who get together for various social activities and talk about how to catch a man. I can do that with y'all.”

Angela answered, “That's not what it is. We . . . we . . .”

“What?” Nicole asked.

“First of all, it's not only women. I admit that it is mostly, but there are some men. Second of all—never mind, Nicole. We're talking about Michelle.”

All eyes refocused on me. “I guess I don't go anywhere where I can meet men. Or be found by a man.”

“When was the last time you went on a date, by the way?” Lisa asked.

Now I felt like Angela. “Never, really.”

“Huh?” Lisa said.

“Well, me and my ex were best friends in church up until high school. Then we started going together, and next thing I knew, we were getting married. And since him . . . well, it's only been the past year that I've gotten over the bitterness and anger to even think about another relationship. I've just kinda been waiting.”

“So, God is supposed to drop you a husband right out of heaven?” Lisa asked.

I shrugged. “That would be nice.”

Nicole and Lisa looked at each other in amazement then looked back at me. Lisa said, “Surely you know that's not gonna happen.”

“I guess I go on five-minute dates. I meet a man somewhere, strike up a conversation, and within five minutes, I know he's not anyone I would be interested in.” I grabbed a bottle of water off the table and twisted off the cap. “Either he's not godly, or he's boring, or his eyes are roaming all over my body, or whatever. Something just lets me know.”

“Are you one of those super-picky women who finds something wrong with every man?” Angela scrunched up her nose.

I shrugged. “I don't think so.”

“So you meet a guy, shoot him down in five minutes, and then move on to the next?” Lisa asked.

Everybody was studying me like a science project.

“No, sometimes guys make it past the five minutes, but then something jumps out that's a big red flag. I don't know. I just haven't met anyone I felt like I had chemistry with, or that I would consider building a future with.”

“You're hopeless.” Nicole stretched out on the couch like she was finished dealing with me.

Vanessa almost looked like she agreed. “So, what exactly are you looking for?”

“I don't know.”

Lisa threw up her hands and flopped back against the couch. “This is too much. She has no idea what she wants but has the nerve to be picky about it.” She rolled her eyes and then asked me, “You mean you don't have a list?”

“A list?” I asked.

“Yeah, a list of what you want.” Lisa looked at me in disbelief. “The essentials, the would-be-nice's, the icing-on-the-cakes, the not-so-desirables, and then, of course, the deal-breakers.”

I looked at Lisa, totally perplexed. “What in the world?”

“Hey, I believe in knowing what I want. Maybe you haven't found the right guy because you don't know what you're looking for.”

I pondered that for a minute and shrugged. “When I meet him, I'll know.”

Nicole and Lisa stared at me like I had three heads. Even Vanessa was giving me a strange look.

“You've watched too many chick flicks. Girl, that's the only place where love at first sight happens,” Lisa said.

“I'm not saying love at first sight. I'm talking about . . .” What exactly was I talking about? How did I really think it was going to happen?

The perfect man would ring my doorbell one day. I would open the door and stare into his eyes, and he into mine, and then he would tell me he'd been looking for me all his life and he was the man I'd been praying for and God had answered my prayers. And then we'd get married. And he'd be perfect with no faults and flaws, and we'd live happily ever after.

Not much more realistic than my dream life at age seven.

Lisa said, “You're asking God for a man, but not telling Him what you want. Aren't you always saying we should be specific when we ask God for something?”

I took a long swig of water, thinking. “Okay, he couldn't be financially irresponsible, couldn't be a cheater, couldn't be a liar, couldn't be a—”

“Wait a minute.” Vanessa held up a hand. “You're saying you wouldn't marry your ex-husband again. We know that. We want to know what you want, not what you don't want.”

“Lisa mentioned deal-breakers. I'm telling you what they are.”

“Let's start with the positive stuff first. What do you want?” Vanessa asked.

I lay my head back against the couch and closed my eyes. What did I want in a man? “I don't know.”

“Okay, we'll give you one week. We'll reconvene for girls' night next week, and we expect a complete list. Essential must-haves, would-be-nice's, icing-on-the-cakes, not-so-nice and deal-breakers. In that order,” Lisa said.

Nicole looked at her watch. “Okay, hate to end the fun, but let's get the rest of this touchy-feely junk out of the way so we can get on to the big birthday surprise.”

T
he rest of my birthday turned out great. After giving me more affirmations than I could stand, the girls took me to my favorite artsy-fartsy clothing boutique in Atlanta's eclectic Little Five Points and bought me a brand-new outfit. Then they took me out to one of my favorite restaurants, Top Spice. We ended the evening with a concert featuring my favorite neo-soul gospel artists—Darlene McCoy, Christopher Lewis, and Leon Timbo at the C-room—our favorite Christian nightclub.

The entire evening, I found myself looking around the audience at men. Most of them had a woman on their arm. I realized that was the case most of the time I went out. At most of the places I frequented, the men were already attached.

After our finding-a-man conversation, I found myself paying more attention to the guys at church on Sunday morning. Most of them seemed paired-up as well. It was the same at work on Monday morning. Anyone I found even the least bit desirable had the golden band of commitment on his left hand.

“Michelle, did you get a chance to look at the promo I edited last night?”

See—exactly what I was talking about. Mr. Eye Candy popped into my office door asking about some stupid spot, not realizing he was the last person I needed to see. He took tall, dark and handsome to new heights, depths, and realms. His dazzling smile of perfectly aligned pearly whites, parenthesized by deep, cheek-puncturing dimples, almost blinded me. His deep, dreamy eyes with long, thick lashes any woman would pay for—shoot, give her firstborn for—were expressive and caring. And I dare not talk about his body. That would cause me to sin.

“Huh?” I kept my eyes on my computer.

“The promo you asked me about. Did you get a chance to look at it?”

Sometimes I thought he did that on purpose. Pop up at my most vulnerable times with a chest-hugging sweater and perfectly tailored slacks, smelling like—manliness. Was that pure testosterone cologne he was wearing?

Yeah, the good ones were always married. I allowed myself a brief glance at Jason Hampton. Brief because, as I said, he was married and I wasn't trying to sin so early in the morning.

I looked back at my computer. “Sure did. Looks great, as always. I appreciate your hard work.”

“You okay?” He leaned in, hovering over my computer.

“Yeah, I'm good. Why do you ask?” I looked up at him for a moment. Those eyes.
Jesus, keep me near the cross.
I quickly refocused my eyes on my computer screen.

“I don't know. You don't quite seem yourself this morning.” He sat down in the chair across from my desk.

Perhaps I wasn't looking busy and focused enough. I opened up a file folder and leafed through some papers. I didn't need him caring about how I was feeling right now.

Jason was one of those ultra-nice, sensitive guys that was easy to talk to. He seemed to sense when I was having a bad day or was frustrated with something at work. He'd pop in my office, and I'd find myself spilling my guts about the latest office drama, programming issue, or production problem bothering me. We'd talk and strategize for a while, and next thing I knew, my problem was solved.

No way was I about to open up about my personal issues. Especially guy issues. We had always kept things strictly and completely professional, and I planned to keep it that way.

I looked up at him and gave a reassuring smile. “I'm good, Jason. Just a little tired from my weekend.”

“Oh, yeah. Happy birthday. How was it?” He crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair, obviously not planning to go anywhere anytime soon.

“It was great. Spent an awesome day with my girlfriends. They celebrated me extra special. I couldn't have asked for a better day.” Except maybe to have had my husband and two daughters come into the room, bringing me breakfast in bed singing, “Happy birthday to you—” I cut off the little fantasy before it got to playing in my head good.

“I'm surprised you didn't spend it with that special someone. How did your girlfriends rank higher than him?”

He clearly didn't know there was enough residual estrogen running through my body to either make me burst into tears or rip him a new one with a sleight of my tongue. He had never crossed the line between personal and professional like that before.

I looked at his dimply smile, its attraction fading at his blatant social violation in pointing out my lack of a man. He clasped his hands together and that's when I noticed.

His wedding ring was gone.

“Um, Jason, please don't take this as rude, but I cut out early on Friday to get ready for my birthday, and now I'm paying for it. I got a bunch of stuff to finish and can only hope to get out of here by eight tonight.”

“Anything I can help with?” He leaned forward, flashing a perfect view of his pearly whites and almost anesthetizing me with his cologne.

“No, it's all stuff I gotta do.” That was my last polite sentence. If he pushed me any further, he would get to see the ugly side of Michelle.

“All right then. Call me if you need me. You know where I'll be.”

“Thanks, Jason.”

He slowly rose as if he was waiting for me to change my mind and remember that there was something he could help with.

I wheeled my chair around to the file cabinet behind my desk and pretended to look for a folder. When I turned back around, he was gone.
What in the ... ?

I tried to give Jason the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he'd taken off his ring over the weekend to complete some chore his wife had asked him to do. Maybe he had sent it out to be cleaned. Whatever the case, surely he wasn't trying to cross any lines with me. He had been my editor for the last two years, and we were a great team. He had never done or said anything out of line. He hadn't mentioned any problems with his wife, but then again, he never talked about his personal life either.

I repented for all the times I had told God I wanted a man like Jason. Sweet, sensitive, dedicated to his family, dedicated to his job, and conscientious. And we won't mention
fine
.

I forced myself to concentrate. Even though it wasn't as bad as I'd told Jason, I did need to get some serious work done. I had a deadline creeping up on me for a show idea for the next pitch meeting. I tried to focus for a few minutes, but the lingering scent of his cologne was a huge distraction.

My assistant popped her head in the door. “Going to get lunch. What you want?” She closed her eyes and sniffed. “Ummm, Jason was just here?”

I laughed. “Yeah, girl. He does leave a scent behind, doesn't he?” I tried to look normal, like that same scent wasn't about to drive me out my mind.

She walked into my office and sat down in the chair Jason had just occupied. “Ooh, girl. I don't see how you stand it. I could not have that man up in my face all day.” She closed her eyes and took another deep whiff.

“Girl, you are too silly,” I said. I really wanted to tell her to stop sniffing up all my Jason air.

She put a finger to her lips. “You know, you and Jason would make the perfect couple. You should go out with him.” She nodded. “Yeah, you guys would be great together.”

“Ummm, hello. Earth to Erika. Has the cologne killed off your brain cells? That man is married. You
know
I don't roll like that.”

Erika stood, stuck her head out my door, looked both ways then shut my door and sat back down in the chair. “Michelle, where have you been? Jason's wife left him over a year ago. His divorce was final eight months ago.”

My eyes flew open. “Jason's wife left him? He's divorced?” My heart started to flutter. “What! How do you know that?”

Erika squinted her eyes. “Everybody knows that. She left him for some Atlanta Falcons rich dude. He was all messed up. Don't you remember when he took that sudden vacation last year and came back looking a mess? Everybody was joking that he needed a vacation after his vacation. For months after that, he was looking crazy every day for a while. How did you miss all that?”

I scratched my head. I did remember his vacation last year and him coming back looking worse than I'd ever seen him. He blew off my concern by saying that he should have gotten more rest.

“How could all this happen and me not know about it?”

I felt like a bad friend. Jason had been going through pure hell, and I hadn't been there for him. In fact, I had pulled on him to help me solve my little problems here at work when he was experiencing a man's worst nightmare.

Then again, we weren't friends. We were co-workers who were careful about observing professional boundaries. Still, seems like I would have noticed something.

“I can't believe you didn't know all this. I guess y'all really do be working like you say when y'all be all huddled up in the edit suite for hours, huh?”

I raised an eyebrow at Erika's suggestion that something improper was going on while Jason and I were working behind closed doors. Maybe we needed to keep the door open or something.

“So, are you gonna scoop him up?” Erika was almost salivating. “Talk about a great catch.”

I shook her suggestion out of my head. “Girl, don't be silly. That would never work. First of all, we work together, and it would be unprofessional. Second, he's fresh out of divorce court and needs some time to heal and put this all behind him before he even thinks about another woman. Third of all—”

“Okay, you keep adding to your list of reasons. In the meantime, some other smart woman will snatch him up, and you'll be sitting next to me at his wedding. Men ain't like women. Women get divorced and spend a year or two in therapy and crying to their girlfriends. Men find them a new woman and get remarried. They can't handle being alone after they been married. Their primary goal is to fill that spot so they can get on with their life.”

I shook my head, more to get rid of the thought than to say no. “Erika, you know how the boss lady is. She strongly frowns on intimate relationships between co-workers.”

“So.” She sucked her teeth. “That didn't stop Randy from knocking up Brittany, now did it? And quiet as it's kept, everybody knows Richard and Sheryl are kicking it. So, you need to go 'head and get yours.”

“That's different. Randy is a free-lancer. Brittany is an administrative assistant. And Richard and Sheryl aren't upper level. They're under the radar. Ain't nobody paying attention to them.” I lowered my voice a little. “And you know the deal. I want this promotion, more than anything. I can't afford to mess up.”

Erica nodded slowly. “I guess so.” She took another deep whiff of my Jason air. “Whatever, girl. You can get a new job. Where you gon' find another Jason Hampton? He is truly one of a kind. Sleep if you want to. I guarantee we'll be at Jason's wedding within a year. Now whether you'll be carrying the bouquet or catching the bouquet is up to you.”

Erika took one final sniff, got up and left my office. As she closed my door, I heard her humming the wedding march,
“Dum da da dum. Dum da da dum.”

I looked back at my computer screen at my treatment, begging to be finished. Yeah, right. Like there was any way I could concentrate for the rest of the afternoon with this new bit of information.

I clenched my teeth, grabbed my mouse and scrolled up to the last thing I had written.

Jason was divorced. Jason was no longer married and unavailable. Jason was single.

Jason is gorgeous. Jason is smart. Jason is sweet. Jason smells good.

Jason is saved and attends church regularly. Jason keeps a Bible in his desk drawer that I've seen him take out and read on many occasions.

I had to concentrate. There was too much riding on this show. It could be the key to my promotion into a position where I had more input about programming. I decided to answer the nagging voice in my head.

Unfortunately, none of my thoughts overpowered the scent of his cologne still hanging in the air.

I pushed back from my desk and marched to the restroom down the hall. I grabbed the air freshener off the little shelf, concealed it in my suit jacket and marched back to my office. Once I got inside, I sprayed and sprayed and sprayed until I was sure there was no remnants of Jason left behind.

Of course, that was too much. My eyes watered, and I started choking. I tried to catch my breath, but every time I inhaled, my lungs filled up with the chemicals.