The Journey Ch. 04

As I walked down a row of neatly kept townhouses, it finally dawned on me that I wasn't looking for a restaurant.

Madre de Dios, I'm an idiot. I stopped walking half a block from the address, pulled up her last text and typed in a reply.

Viv: am I coming to your house?

I stood on the sidewalk, chewing my lip. Almost immediately I saw the dots indicating she was typing.

Jane: Yes. I'm making pasta, is that okay?

God, I was such a dumbass. My thumbs flew across my screen.

Viv: thought I was meeting u at a restaurant for some reason

Jane: Are you close?

It was already five past seven. I looked up and saw the sign for a Whole Foods at an intersection two or three blocks down her street, where the townhomes gave way to businesses.

Viv: running a little late - maybe ten more minutes

Jane: No rush! See you soon!

She punctuated it with a winking emoji.

As I walked past her address, I looked up at the townhouse and the cheerfully lit windows. It looked really nice. And expensive.

It took me a minute to find a bottle of wine at the Whole Foods. Especially since I knew next to nothing about wine and had to ask one of the clerks what would go with pasta, who then asked me what kind of pasta and sauce, which led to me stammering like an idiot, which led to him recommending what he said was a nice Chianti and walking away. And I had no idea what Chianti even was. By the time I got through the checkout line and backtracked to her home, it was almost seven thirty.

There were two doors on the front porch, the one for the ground floor was labeled WILLIAMS. I rang the bell for the one labeled MAY. About ten seconds later I saw her through the big glass window in the door, trotting down the steps to let me in.

"Hey! I hope you found me okay!" she said, as she held the door open for me.

She had her hair up over her head in one of her usual head wraps, this one a soft peach color with red roses printed on it. Tight white jeans and a soft, peach colored shirt completed her outfit, one side of the wide neck hanging down her left shoulder exposing a white satin bra strap. Her feet were bare and it looked like she'd done her toenails for the occasion with light purple polish.

"Yeah, sorry I'm late. I ran down the street to get this." I offered the bottle of wine to her.

"Oh, that's so sweet, you didn't have to do that!" She kissed me on the cheek then led the way back up the stairs. My fingertips touched where her lips had brushed across my skin. I tried (and failed) to not stare at her ass as I followed her up the steps towards the sounds of soft, soulful music and the smell of cooking garlic.

The top of the stairs opened up to a surprisingly spacious room that appeared to take up the entire front half of the second floor of the townhouse. A cozy kitchen was along the back wall, with a big marble-topped island separating it from the living area. A well-filled, floor-to-ceiling bookcase ran along the wall opposite the steps, from the kitchen's pantry to the front windows. The kitchen cabinets were white on the uppers and dark blue on the lowers, which I'd never seen before but looked cool as hell. The other side of the room had a rather awesome-looking leather sofa with its back to the stairwell, facing a nice TV in its own built-in cubby in the book case. Two retro-looking end tables and a matching low coffee table in the middle of the room completed the decor.

"Can I get you something to drink? How about I open the wine you brought?" she asked as I followed her into the kitchen.

"Sounds good. It smells amazing in here."

"Thank you, it's my grandmother's recipe. The secret is green olives and capers in the sauce." She pulled two glasses out of a cabinet, a corkscrew out of a drawer and started working on the bottle.

"This is a really nice place," I said after she handed me a glass. I walked over to the bookcase to peruse the photos and books displayed there. There was a record player spinning on one of the shelves and music was coming from two small, high quality speakers, one at either end of the bookcase. "I like the music."

"It's the Trouble Man soundtrack. And before you say anything, you should know I owned this album before all the Marvel stuff."

"What Marvel stuff?"

"You know, when the Falcon tells Captain America that it's one of the things he has to listen to? To catch up after being frozen since World War Two? It was in the Winter Soldier movie."

"Oh. Sorry, I don't watch those."

"You've never seen a superhero movie?" She seemed surprised.

"Maybe one or two, when they were on cable and there weren't any sports on, but I couldn't tell you which ones."

"I didn't think that was possible."

"If they ever put one out with a Hispanic hero, I'll go see it. As long as we're relegated to being the comic sidekick, I'll pass."

She smiled. "I know what you mean. When Black Panther came out it was the first time I got to be as excited as every white kid in America got to be for the first twenty movies. Shuri's my hero."

"I bet." Who's Shuri? I thought, as I walked back over to stand across the kitchen island from her. She set a bowl full of salad in front of me then resumed stirring the sauce, while I took a sip of the wine and tried to hold back a grimace.

"Oh no, is the wine not any good?" She picked up her glass and sniffed it.

"Honestly? I have no idea, I don't drink wine."

She gave a full-throated laugh. "Why didn't you say so? Do you want a beer?"

"That'd be great, thanks."

She opened a large white wooden cabinet door, which turned out to be the refrigerator, and reached in to retrieve a green bottle.

"Glass or no glass?"

I almost said no glass, not wanting to trouble her further, but I realized it was probably classier to use a glass. I looked at the bottle after I poured it out into the pint glass she'd set on the counter for me. The label said Yuengling.

"Young... ling? I've never tried this."

"'Ying-ling'. It's from Pennsylvania, the oldest brewery in the country. My dad drinks it, that's why I keep some around. By the way, this is very good wine."

I took a sip of her dad's beer and felt my eyebrow raise in appreciation. "Good, I'm glad I got lucky with my wild-ass guess."

Her laugh filled the room again. I realized I loved making her do that, even when it was because of my naivety. She plated two bowls of spaghetti, ladled on generous amounts of sauce, then flipped the record before joining me at the counter. We sat side-by-side in her wrought-iron bar stools and dug in.

The food was amazing, but also, I found myself surprised at how down-to-earth she seemed. The formidable college professor shell was completely gone and we just talked. When I mentioned bowling she seemed genuinely interested, asking me about how I started and how league scoring worked. We talked about her yoga and running obsessions again. I'd noticed one of the bottom shelves of her bookcase was filled with rolled up yoga mats and small weights. We talked about our favorite places to go, things to do. She was clearly more sophisticated than me, talking about some of the museums and cultural things she liked.

Then she asked if I liked the WNBA. My stomach dropped a little. I used to go all the time, but the last game I'd gone to was when Addison had caught me cheating on her.

"Uh, I mean I've been once or twice, but I'm not hard core or anything."

"I played high school ball. I love the Mystics, I go whenever I can. I wish I could afford season tickets."

"I don't mean to be nosy, but it seems like being a professor pays really well," I said, looking meaningfully around her apartment.

She suddenly looked embarrassed. "Um, college professors actually aren't paid that great, honestly. Especially if you're not tenured. I can't take credit for this place."

"What do you mean?"

"So... this is a little embarrassing, but my parents bought this townhouse for me."

"Damn, really?!"

"Yeah, I know. When I graduated from Howard with my undergrad, this place was my graduation present. My dad wanted me to have a nest egg, so he helped me come up with this plan once it was clear I'd be staying in DC for my PhD. We found a run-down townhouse that we got fairly cheap in a sketchy neighborhood, but an area that was coming up pretty fast. My parents put up the down payment and gave me some money to renovate it. I used that to renovate the exterior and the lower floors into rental units. There's a two bedroom on the first floor and a one bedroom in the basement. The two rental units pretty much cover the mortgage and paid for me to renovate my own unit up here last year. This is a lot nicer now than when I was working on my PhD. It even has a garage in the back alley so I don't have to park on the street."

"No shit. That's... wow. Pretty awesome for you. How'd your parents afford to do all that?"

"My dad's a sports medicine physician and my mom is an OB-GYN. They're, um... well... they're pretty well off."

Jesus fuck, she's smart AND rich? Both her parents are fucking doctors? What the fuck am I even doing here? Why did she even let me into her home? I realized she was talking again and I jerked my attention back to her.

"--worked out great because I can walk to Howard from here. It's like a half mile away. But, like I said, being a first-year professor pays okay, but I don't have season ticket cash. After they set me up here I won't let them pay for anything else. Trying to be on my own and all."

"I see."

"What do your parents do?"

Here comes the buzzkill. "My dad was killed when I was twelve, and my mom was deported when I was in high school."

"Oh my God! Viv, I am so sorry! That's terrible! Where is she now?"

"She's just outside of Mexico City, helps run her cousin's restaurant. There's a lot of cooks in the family. My Abuela has a tamale business, selling to local markets, and runs the tortilla machine at Los Fenix in Lorton. She raised my brother after mom left."

"Not you?"

"Well, yeah, I guess she did. I was in eleventh grade when mom got kicked out, so I was out of high school just over a year after."

"When was the last time you saw your mom?"

"In person? Not long after ICE picked her up. They raided the restaurant she was working at. Diego and I got to see her a few times during the hearings. The last time I saw her was when the judge ordered her deported."

"You haven't gone to Mexico to visit her?"

"Never been able to afford a trip like that."

"Viv, that's really awful. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. The thing that pisses me off is that she and three other workers were deported and not a goddamn thing happened to the restaurant owner who was paying them less than minimum wage. I talk to her a couple times a week or so. Now that FaceTime is a thing it's nicer than when we just talked on the phone."

"I can't imagine going through that. It must have been really hard."

"Life is life, and sometimes life is hard. Hey, the food was delicious, by the way." I wanted to change the subject and I think she sensed it and let me.

"Thank you. Let's do the dishes and we can move to the couch."

I helped her clean up, rinsing the dishes while she stacked them in the dishwasher then put the leftovers in Tupperware. She offered me another beer, which I accepted, and we headed to her sofa.

"Want to watch a movie?" she asked.

"Sure, your choice." Although I was hoping it wouldn't be some egg-head history movie, or Masterpiece Theater or some shit. Instead I was surprised when she pulled up a Spider-Man movie.

"You want to watch a cartoon?" I asked.

"I was thinking about something you said earlier. This isn't the Peter Parker Spider-Man. The main character in this one is named Miles Morales."

"No shit?"

"For real. And the soundtrack is great."

I was a little startled when she called out "Alexa, it's movie time," and half the lights went out while the other half dimmed. I was even more startled when she snuggled herself up under my arm with her feet curled up under her. Didn't even have to do the yawn and stretch move.

I'd wondered at first if she'd put on this movie just to have an excuse to make out or something, but within the first few minutes, I was totally sucked in. A young Hispanic kid with a black dad and a Hispanic mom, gifted with super powers? Color me there. I laughed. I got tense. When Miles' dad made his speech at Miles' dorm room door, telling him about the spark he sees in him, I actually found myself tearing up. Fortunately, she was as into it as I was, and I think I was able to rub my eye without her noticing.

When the credits rolled, she reached for the remote and turned off the TV.

"What did you think?"

"That was really good! And you're right, the soundtrack was bangin'! I'm gonna hafta add that Familia song and some of the others to my playlists."

"I'm glad you liked it," she said, turning to face me. The glow of the street lights outside her windows made her eyes shine in a way that gave me a lump in my throat.

We looked at each other for a long moment. It felt like she wanted me to make a move on her. Instead I found my mouth trying to ruin things.

"Jane... what am I doing here?"

She sat back a little. "What do you mean?"

"C'mon. You're Dr. May. You live in this high dollar townhouse in this hip neighborhood. You teach freakin' college. You like wine and have a vinyl collection. I drive trains, live in a shitty apartment in Springfield and bowl in a beer league on weekends. So... why am I here?"

She looked at me for the longest time. So long, I thought I must have royally pissed her off. Which was apparently my stupid brain's idea in the first place.

"Viv, I--"

"And why do you call me Viv now? You called me Vivian the entire semester."

"I call you Viv now because I know that's what you prefer, and I called you Vivian when I was your teacher because I was petrified that you, and every other student, would see that I was into you, so I needed to cover myself. Keep some distance. And it's true that I was drawn to you because you're my type. Physically, I mean. I told you I like a soft butch."

"If that's the only--"

"But I don't really pick women to date based on appearances," she said, talking right over me. "I told you before, I like the way your mind works."

"I barely graduated from high school and I'm a freshman at twenty-nine."

She rolled her eyes. "Going to college right out of high school isn't an indicator of intelligence, it's more of a marker of privilege. You're not stupid, Viv. I can see it. In every class half the students wouldn't have done the reading. But you always did. I could see it on your face as you listened to me that you knew where I was going to go. And I could always see when you had something to say, even though you didn't want to speak up, so I'd call on you and it was always almost exactly something I would've wanted someone to say to keep the discussion moving in the right direction. Except sometimes you'd add a little twist that I wouldn't expect, that would subtly change where my lecture was headed. Most classes you'd only say something once or twice, but almost without fail it was one of the most insightful things any student would say that night."

"But... we don't have much in common. Or, anything in common, really."

"How do you know?"

"What?"

"How do you know? We barely know each other. Which is why I asked you to come to dinner. We both love to dance, we already know that. I want to find out if there's more."

"But..." I trailed off helplessly.

"But what?"

"You're like this... super smart woman. You're a college professor. You're writing a book, for fuck's sake. Shouldn't you be, like... dating some other professor or something?"

"Academia is just a part of my life. I don't want it to be every part of it. And have to tell you, I've had no success dating fellow eggheads. I think it's because I don't want to be an egghead all the time. I don't want to work all day, teaching and researching and writing, then come home and talk about teaching and researching and writing. I don't want to talk about crime statistics or the latest demographic data. I want to come home and listen to music, and have good food and conversation about things that aren't important, yet still matter to me. I want to watch movies, go to street festivals and farmer's markets. I want to go dancing and maybe learn to bowl someday."

I snorted. "Bowling? Really."

"I like doing things I've never done, and when you talk about it you make it sound fun. So, I don't know if you and I would be a good fit or not. But I'm interested in finding out. If you're not interested, I understand. But if you're interested in finding out too, then I say we give it a go. Together."

I licked my lips as my feelings warred with themselves. There was no way this could go anywhere. I didn't belong in her world. But... she was so... comfortable to be around. And so pretty. And she sounded like maybe she actually meant everything she'd said.

She smiled at me. "And besides... you might be the only woman I've ever danced with who could keep up with me."

I gave a surprised bark of laughter. "Like hell, you kept up with me!"

"Well, I hope we have another opportunity in the future to battle that out on the dance floor."

I took a deep breath. "So... what do we do now?"

"I'm not a fast mover. I'm not one to jump in bed with someone right away."

"Oh... Okay." My attempt to fuck things up notwithstanding, I felt suddenly disappointed. I'd been more than half convinced she just wanted to get with me tonight.

"It might be a while before I'm ready for a sleepover."

"Oh," I said again, cursing my tongue for being so tied. "So, should we say goodnight then or--"

"But I would very much like to make out with you," she said, and leaned towards me.

I leaned back in surprise and she followed me, slowly, insistently, until I was laid back against the armrest and she languidly stretched her body out atop mine. My eyes didn't close at first. Hers did, as her lips softly pressed against mine.

The feeling was... amazing. I'd never been kissed like this. She didn't open her mouth at first, our lips melded together. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, I felt her tongue reach out. I mirrored her motions. This wasn't kissing. She was making love to my mouth. Feasting on me.

Which raised other doubts in the back of my mind. I normally wasn't the 'make love' type. I was more the 'throw down and fuck' type. This felt almost... wrong. Like there was meaning behind it. Meaning that she surely didn't mean. Meaning that couldn't be meant for me.

But, God... it was so good. My hands wrapped around her to caress the small of her back, as I luxuriated in the faint floral smell coming from her hair which had fallen over my forehead. One of her hands gently traced a line along my neck, as the other curled under my shoulder to pull me, insistently, closer to her.

Our tongues danced. She liked to flit hers around mine. I liked to suck on hers when she'd let me catch it. She tasted so good. I could feel the heat between my legs increasing every moment and I couldn't believe how wet I was getting just from kissing. I felt pretty confident in my dancing skills, I'd put my moves up against any woman I'd ever met on the dance floor. But her tongue was dancing circles around me, leaving me feeling like... a clumsy amateur.

At one point she laid a series of soft, wet kisses down my cheek to my neck. I felt like I was in uncharted territory. I was the one who was supposed to dominate, be in control. Yet... she wasn't dominating me. She was just... leading. Like in a dance. Loving on me. I felt both wildly out of my depth and adored at the same time.