NO ORDINARY LOVE

"For all my sisters at the end of a road. God's blessings are with you."

Warm Santa Ana winds blow petals from my neighbor's orange blossom tree onto the driveway. Closing the half-opened window, I glance at the automobiles whizzing down Ocean Park, hoping Maria's car will make the sharp turn into the vacant parking space she left to get spinach for the quiche I was making for lunch. I suspected something was up but was too involved with the phone call I was on to do more than smile and shake my head when she pointed to the ingredients on the kitchen counter, mouthing, "We need spinach." Coming home late and leaving again was nothing new since her move from downtown to the new Club Med office near LAX. Our problems began when the frequencies of late/spur-of-the-moment meetings increased. Just yesterday, we argued about her getting a call, leaving the house, and not returning until the early morning hours. She snapped at me for asking what on earth did she think about women who were supposed to be married and came home at two in the morning. That set her off on a tirade about my selfishness and a gut-wrenching diatribe. When I attempted to talk, she said she was tired and went to bed in the guest bedroom. I figured I would give her the night and talk to her the next day. But she was gone when I got up. I texted her several times when the receptionist at her job said she was not at her desk. Not knowing what to do, I watched a video clip of our vacation to the Virgin Islands last year and remembered how different our lives were now than when we first met.

I spotted Maria strolling along the sandy beach of Martinique dressed in a skimpy pink halter top with matching shorts. At first glance, she was indistinguishable from the other beauties on the shore in shorts and tops in vibrant colors until a group of West Indian men catcalled and obscenely gestured when she passed in front of them. Instead of smiling sweetly as island women did, Maria cursed loudly, kicking sand in their faces. I laughed, almost choking on the Mai Tai I was drinking, at their shocked faces. What she'd done was virtually unheard of in the Virgin Islands. It was a sexist environment, and men misbehaving was the norm. I had even seen them urinate near shops that catered to primarily female clientele.

The day after the incident with the men, I got up early. After a swim in the blue Caribbean Ocean, I browsed the shops by the Hotel Jamaica, hoping to find a necklace to match a shirt I bought on St. Croix. While in a hut, sorting through an assortment of leather strands with African trade beads, a cheerful voice said, "Nice choice. It'll look great on you." When I looked up, there stood the Goddess from the beach yesterday. She was gorgeous! Her tawny skin was flawless and glowed vibrantly. She had to be in her forties, but her breasts were firm, her legs taut with muscle definition. A touch of sweat formed on her full lips colored a soft shade of plum.

"Thank you," I mumbled, afraid to look at her directly.

"Weren't you on the beach yesterday?"

"Uhmmm-huh. I saw you curse those guys out. I loved it!"

"They were jerks! This place is full of them. You"d never know it by all the requests to come here. Especially from women."

"What kind of work do you do?"

"Travel agent. Have you heard of Club Med?" Her soft voice and easy smile were breathtaking.

"I have. The natives' reputation is up there."

"Yep! Hey, what's your name? Mine's Maria."

"Cecelia. " My throat was dry.

"Did you come with a group, or are you doing the trip solo?"

"Alone. I didn't want the regimented thing," I replied. "I'm a therapist in LA, and we forever have to do group things.....you know, as a team-building blah blah. I wanted to get away from that.... wander and trip by myself."

"Oh, I didn't mean to intrude....." A disappointed look replaced the smile. "I'm just outgoing, and I noticed you a couple of times, well,......just wandering around. Now, I know it was by choice."

"Wait," I touched her manicured hand without much thought. "I didn't mean I wanted to be alone while I'm here. "I'm glad you took the time to talk to me. I'm kind of shy, and ....hey, listen, have you had breakfast yet?"

"Breakfast sounds fantastic." The smile returned. " I came here with my friend, and all she's been doing is dancing and drinking all night. She'll be asleep until at least two."

"Oh, we should be looking for a place to eat lunch by then."

"Sounds good. That's the main reason I travel. For the food experience."

"That's me, too. Let's do this!"

I paid for the necklace, and we walked the street until we came upon a less crowded place than the ones we passed. Breakfast was a dish reminiscent of grits and hot links but with a spicy gravy spooned over it. The meal was fabulous, but Maria's company made it one of the best on the island.

The morning passed quickly into the afternoon. We talked about our lives in LA and Chicago. I found her articulate and witty in the time we spent together. Interesting, too, was the casual way she looked directly into my eyes, a somewhat flirty expression on her face whenever we were across from each other. I didn't want to assume anything, but I did think perhaps she was a woman's woman, and I was interested in knowing more about her.

Later, in the privacy of my room, I sweated profusely. In the cool water of the shower, I pictured a smooth complexioned face. Orgasmically empty and emotionally celibate, I could have easily been one of Dr. Phil's guests. Online, mind you, because I would have never admitted to being a sexual wasteland since my breakup with Nita. Hopefully, I was on the mend after nineteen months of non-feeling. Relationships left me with vague feelings when they didn't work out. It didn't matter whether the failure was mine or otherwise. I leaped recklessly into women's lives in my previous escapades without considering their past. Failing to get pertinent information on the how and why of the breakdown of their other partnerships cost me dearly. Nita was a woman who played the victim bit to the max. Her expertise in using her painful experiences from the past to manipulate present involvements was why I hadn't had a date since our breakup. I found her actions to be insincere though she pledged sincerity. I stayed in her fog to our bitter end, almost losing my sanity in her insidious way of playing on my vulnerability to pave her road to self-gratification and abusive power. The amazing thing was she was so similar to my girlfriend in college; I just knew they got together and set me up to fall pussy first into the same trap I fell into two decades earlier. At the end of both relationships, I was so emotionally exhausted I had to go into therapy myself. Now, that was pretty devastating for a woman known for rebuilding woman's faith and self-esteem!

Hearing the telephone's loud buzzing, I quickly toweled myself off and rushed from the bathroom. Reaching for the doobie of Hawaiian Snow I smoked that morning, I felt for the lighter in the pocket of my robe.

Puffing, I picked up the receiver. "Hello."

"Hi, Celle. Did I disturb you?"

"Umh...no. I inhaled slowly on the sweet-tasting herb. "I was just chillaxing...listening to some sounds." Jill Scott's "I Keep," drifted from the iPod speakers on the table.

"I called to say how much I enjoyed the day."

"Me, too." Images of her Honey-colored skin and sun-tinted eyes played in the wavy smoke clouds coming from my mouth.

"Are you smoking?"

Giggling, I answered. "Spliff."

"What?" She sounded confused.

"Ganja. Mari ja wanna."

"Really? Damn, I wish you would've said something earlier. We brought some great stuff with us so we would not have to go looking. The laws over here ain't no joke."

I was high now, so I felt confident in saying, "Now, that's interesting. You don't look like the type to smoke. You seem so reserved. Well, ah....except you did curse those men out. And, yeah, your shorts were kind of tight for a reserved woman."

"My shorts! I cannot believe you checked out how tight my shorts were, but you didn't see the roach clip earrings I had on! Reserved! I'll say. I even get into a little coke. How's that for reserved?"

"Whooo....hold it. Sometimes, I slip into a professional mold when I am just getting to know people. I have done coke, too, but it didn't work for me. I'm too hyper already."

"What about the feel-good aspect? Everything is okay even if it isn't, aspect."

"It didn't do it for me. I guess I'm just a pothead."

"Me, too, but I am also an escapist. That's why I like the travel business. It takes me to different places to have different experiences than I have in Chicago. Coke does that for me, in a way.....it gives me another face. I like to go other places without ever leaving home." Her voice now had this distant sound to it.

We jumped subject to subject for the next hour, and I went to bed with her in my head. We met and exchanged business cards the next day, vowing to stay in contact with one another.

A few weeks after returning home, I got a message to call Maria at the Sheraton by LAX. Delighted, but again nervous, I rehearsed what I would say and then made the call.

"Maria Daniels, please."

"One moment."

Seconds later, Maria's familiar voice penetrated the line.

"Ms. Daniels?" I used my professional tone.

"Yes."

"I have a message to call you in regards to your mental health." I covered my mouth, stifling the laughter.

"Huh?" She sounded puzzled for a second, then, "...Oh, yes. I'm in a terrible state and am wondering if you are available for a session?"

"Well, that depends on how serious your problems are." Laughter was threatening to rise from my professional tone. "I'm fairly booked, and unless there's an urgency......"

"It's definitely urgent," she interrupted. "I have been having these dreams."

"Dreams, huh? Are they bad dreams? Nightmares?"

"Yes, they are." A teasing note was in her sultry voice. "It's so hard to be into a person, and their lifestyle is much different than yours. I just don't know......"

"Don't know what?" My palms moistened.

"Oh, Celle. Hell, I just can't get you out of my mind. I keep rewinding the day we spent together. It was so nice......you do know I'm gay, don't you?" Now, there was a rushed sound to her words.

"I thought so, but I wasn't sure," I stumbled over the words. "I mean, you don't look......"

"Like a dyke," Maria quipped quietly.

"Oh, come on. I was not going to say that. I meant you seemed so.......ummmmm," I searched for a word.

"Reserved for a dyke," the teasing voice was back.

"Okay, you are never going to let me live that down, are you? Just because of one mistake, everything I perceive is going to be incredulous to you, isn't it?"

"No, but, Ms. Therapist, you keep putting your foot in your mouth, and I have to find something else to concentrate on when I talk to you.....I'm so attracted to you, and you're straight.....and ..."

My face broke into a grin, "Straight! Oh, I got you on this one. I have been a lesbian for as long as I can remember."

"What?! You are? Well, I guess we're even. Gay, damn. You sure had me fooled."

" Cause I don't look like "one"?"

"Chill on that. I guess, though, you are pretty good at charades."

"Well, yes. Have to be in this job. They would probably find some reason to get rid of me if they knew for sure. After all, I am considered one of the county's best psychologists, and in these offices, they would question how one heal sick minds when one's mind is sick, as well."

"You're crazy, you know. A real sicky. That's what I like about you. Well, one thing. The other is the way your eyes tell all your thoughts. Damn! Is there any way I can see you before I go back home?"

"I'm off in twenty minutes."

"Can I see you then? I'm here for a convention, but it doesn't start until the weekend."

"What room are you in?"

"1220"

"See you in a few."

"A few?" Maria's voice was now a sexy whisper.

"Yes."

"I will be here."

I hurriedly cleared my desk of client records and went to my car in the parking lot. Maneuvering my way through the crowded Santa Monica Freeway, I knew she had my heart. Just thinking of her made me quiver all over. That was our beginning. For us to end after eight years of bliss because of unanswered messages, phone calls, and frequent disappearances was a miserable thought.

The front door closed quietly. I heard Maria in the living room before she entered the kitchen. Forcing a slight smile, I looked at her rumpled figure sliding onto the stool across from me.

"Finally decide to come home? Where's the spinach?"

A tear fell from the lifeless eyes I avoided since her late arrivals and sudden disappearances.

"I'm sorry, Honey. I can't keep doing this to you.....to us."

"I know. We have got to find a way to get this thing handled." I rose to my feet from my seat. "The quiche is ready. I made it without the spinach." A wave of dizziness staggered me as I bent to open the oven door. Lightheaded for a moment, I grabbed the handle for support. " What's going on? You have somebody else?"

"No, Baby, I don't. I'm ......." she teared up again. " I'm hooked on cocaine. I have been smoking it, and, well, I'm out of control."

I looked out of the window where the blossoms lay scattered around the rose garden I planted our fourth year together. Fear of losing her to someone dissipated, and a new realization came into play.

"So, all those meetings and sudden exits were because of the pipe?"

"I'm sorry......I didn't mean to let it get this bad...I love you. The mean things I said, I didn't mean......I need help."

"Shhh......we will get that for you." I walked out of the kitchen to the den. Finding the stereo remote in the rocker with the Kente cloth cushion Maria gave me for my fiftieth birthday, I turned on the receiver. Rocking slowly, I thought of Hawaii, Vermont, and Canada vacations. I smiled, remembering the many holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries we shared with friends and family. As fractured pictures of the movies and plays we loved entered my mind, a familiar pounding surfaced my temple. Hearing a rustling movement, I looked up to see the woman I loved.

"Want to dance? We haven't done that in a while."

"I'd like that," she answered, walking towards me.

Sade's husky voice flowed through the surround speakers as I stood cautiously, pain penetrating the front of my head.

"I...I love you so much," I whispered. " we will survive this."

"I don't deserve you........"

"Hush, now." I hugged her body as whistling winds shook the windows, the music lamenting our extraordinary life together. Burying my face in the curve of her shoulder, I mouthed, "I'll keep trying for you; I'll keep crying for you. This is no ordinary love." Wanting so much to wail my love for her in the music's flaming whine, I squeezed her tightly. Desperately wanting to tell her of my desire to be cremated, my ashes set free to blow in the winds I hated because the CAT scans showed the inoperable tumor on my brain, I could only put my mouth against the softness of her breasts to muffle the cries.