Let Me Love You. Linda Walters

in a position to answer. You’d have to ask Nita and she’s not really speaking to you right now. Her stance is the same as mine—be here or be square. Now, before you start making excuses, let me tell you that you missed a jamming party with our nuptials being the significant excuse for folks to act up. I don’t think this event will be any less intense, just significantly less formal,” Branch said, laughter in his voice.

      “I see. It doesn’t sound like something I’d wish on my worst enemy but you may have caught me at a time of weakness. Okay, I’m in. I think I could use the getaway.” They talked for another five minutes, exchanged the pertinent information and then hung up.

      Terrance’s statement, though brief, told Branch more than Terrance realized. In college, Terrance had always gotten the girl, dropped the girl, then sung a song of woe for the next week before hooking up with the next honey in line. Then, in his sophomore year, he’d met Zoie.

      Sophomore year at Temple University had been tough. Declaring a major, keeping your grades above the basement level and establishing your coolness ratio were daunting tasks. Both Terrance and Branch had been dedicated to the cause. Avoiding the unwritten rules of college life was definitely a major part of the deal with the number one rule being no dating of freshmen.

      Enter, Zoie. Temple’s freshmen class had a number of delectable entries but Zoie Anderson was noticed almost immediately. Tall, thin and shapely, sure of herself and extremely intelligent, Zoie exuded sensuality. When she walked into a room, heads turned. When she spoke out in class, students listened. And when she moved off campus, got an apartment with two other freshmen and it became part of the campus knowledge, it also became the stuff of which Temple University legends were made.

      The two met on a rainy night at a noisy off-campus party that neither one really was enjoying. They left together and became instantly inseparable. In the next months, they were seen on campus together, off campus together, and if one was spotted without the other, the next question asked was, “Where is your copilot?” That lasted for the next two years. It seemed that Terrance had been taken off the available list by a freshman. There wasn’t anything anybody could do about it. Not even him.

      He wasn’t able to explain it, couldn’t seem to stop it and was powerless to change her influence on him. She commanded his attention, his concentration and most of all, his loyalty. It was a different kind of existence for him coming from a family which had been functionally inadequate. Terrance was unaccustomed to having to give answers on his whereabouts from the time he’d turned twelve. No one ever thought to ask, “Where are you going and how long will you be gone?”

      Unbeknownst to him, that information had suddenly become common fodder for a daily planner which Zoie kept in her locked duffel bag. By the time Terrance realized he’d become the pet rock of a freshman zookeeper, it was too late. Precedents had already been set, limitations already established. Oddly, it felt right.

      It was fine for a while. Actually, it was lovely for a long time with quiet walks in the park, movies when they could afford it and lovemaking at any time the notion hit them. That is, until the day when the blinders were lifted after he decided to try having an in-depth conversation with a graduate student about the coming election of a new city council leader. Zoie walked in on them sitting at a conference table in study hall and had a midday meltdown. The fact that the girl was an unknown entity, a sophisticated upperclassman killed the deal—at least for Zoie. She assumed, correctly, that an upperclassman would possess the ability to outrank, outclass and outmaneuver her.

      Terrance was still under the misguided impression that he could handle things, so the young couple continued to see each other even after the initial crack in the relationship’s exterior. Originally enrolled as a science major, Terrance realized his real passion was medicine at around the same time as Zoie’s freak-out. He switched majors but tried, unsuccessfully, to remain consistent with his dating partner.

      Six months later when Zoie saw him with the same female student as before, she showed up at his dorm room armed with a can of spray paint, an armful of flyers and proceeded to paint her way into Temple University history.

      She spray painted obscenities, accusations about his masculinity and several badly spelled expletives all across the campus, concentrating her efforts at Xenon Hall where he shared a room with an economics major from Buffalo.

      Then she proceeded to cross the campus from one end to the other stapling posters to each tree or any other standing element which would allow punctures. She also covered many of the existing billboards. The flyers contained a photo of Terrance with the word “PLAYER” sprawled across the front and a huge red line through his picture.

      Needless to say, the incident curtailed his dating efforts for the remainder of his tenure at the school. His name had become part of the public consciousness on Temple University’s main campus. Ironically, Zoie’s legacy included being called up on charges by the school’s administration and a psychiatric evaluation. She quietly left Temple soon after and returned to Pittsburgh, her hometown.

      Now, looking back on it, he wondered if he hadn’t had that experience, if things would have turned out differently.

      After being dateless for a full year, he’d met Brianna. Determined to take his time getting to know her, it dawned on him pretty quickly that they had more in common than not. The fact that he’d never noticed her, although she was in his graduating class, stunned him. That she also came from the Caribbean pleased him, although he’d always wondered what Trinidad had on his home, Paradise Island.

      Aside from being several times the size of the Bahamas and reportedly one of the wealthiest islands in the Caribbean, Trinidad’s existence had never posed any real interest for him. Suddenly, he found it important to know as much as he could.

      Small, petite with coal-black hair, Brianna was pretty with an added touch of exotic flair. She also possessed both the talent and brains to become a top-notch M.D. Terrance was immediately struck by the reality that she was different from anyone he’d ever met before. Although she studied a great deal and partied very little, she still managed to be more fun than many of the party animals he knew. Something about her inspired confidence, a quality he found refreshing. Ironically, on their second date, he began calling her Bree without knowing her entire family did, too.

      They were married one year after graduation. Brianna passed the examinations necessary to become a registered nurse in the Bahamas and they set up housekeeping there. Around the same time, Terrance finished up his premed courses and entered into an internship with Nassau Medical Center, a state-of-the-art hospital which had only been built three years before. They were owned in part by a medical conglomerate located in the United Kingdom.

      They’d discussed Brianna’s change of heart about becoming a doctor many times. Terrance did his best to convince her that it was still possible, but she no longer felt it was necessary.

      “One doctor in the house is enough. I’ll continue in nursing. It’s fine,” she’d said.

      The marriage was solid for the first year and a half. Then all hell broke loose. It started with small things, then mushroomed as each month passed. Brianna complained incessantly about every birth-control product on the market. Everything from bloating, headaches, dizziness and real or imagined weight gain plagued her.

      Terrance attributed much of the complaints to her not wanting to take the Pill; hence he concluded she wanted to be pregnant. For some unfathomable reason, the thought of becoming a father bothered him. And the thought of Brianna becoming pregnant terrified him.

      One Sunday afternoon, as Terrance polished his silver-gray BMW 535, Brianna walked outside, came around to him and put her arm around his waistline. Not one to be prone to intimate gestures in public, Terrance put down the cloth he was using, looked at her briefly and asked, “What gives?” He had already come to the realization that any uncharacteristic gesture from her usually meant that something was up.

      “I think you might want to sit down for this,” she said softly, then took his hand and led him into the small house they’d leased for the past two years. As they both sat down on the dark green sofa which filled the den, she’d looked at him quickly