“Yeah, boooyeee! And I want my dude to take this plunge with me with this fine ass thang right here, bro!” He somewhat roughly pushes on Zoey to gesture to her.
My eyes go to Zoey, whose expression is sheepish. I can tell she’s going with the flow for the sake of the bride and groom. I stand and go for her hand, the way her little soft fingers thread between mine feels so natural. She willingly accepts and we take off for the dance floor behind Alton and Tynisha, receiving applause all the way there. John starts his melodic crooning.
I stop, taking Zoey into my arms, something that is still organic although it’s been so long. Her scent saturates my senses, her warm touch gives me goose bumps and in just a few minutes of our swaying, she burrows her head into my chest. The lyrics play on in my intoxicated mind. Zoey and I have lost our way. I’ve lost her, which is far more difficult than losing an ordinary love. Because we have a child together, Zoey is at my arm’s length, teasing and torturing me just the same.
Her head pops up. Her eyes are laden with distress. “Your heart is about to come out of your chest, Stenton. Are you okay?”
I’m drunk. Fuck it. “This is hard for me.”
“What?” Her dark eyes do something to my chest. Her narrow yet pouty mouth brings me visions of eroticism that I haven’t experienced from her in so long.
“Being so close to you and yet so distant emotionally.”
Zoey’s eyes bounce back and forth, contemplatively. “Stenton,” she begs.
“I know.” Fuck! “It’s just that I’m so frustrated. You and me…we’re not done yet, Zo. I’ve given you time. Now it’s time for us to explore us.”
“Stenton!” She backs out of my embrace.
That was a little more explosive, though it didn’t draw attention to us in the middle of the dance floor. I don’t know what to say. I know what the fuck I want to say, but it’s clear to me that Zoey isn’t game. So, I back away, leaving her befuddled there on the floor. It feels like my usual modus operandi. I’ve always left her standing alone, even though I don’t go far. I gait back over to the bar and soak up my self-pity there for a while, in tequila.
~~~~~~~~~~
~Zoey~
“StentRo, we gon’ get you home nice and safely, right, Zo?” I hear a familiar voice speak loudly as I feel tugging on my legs. “Shit! Push, Zo, I can’t hold his big ass by myself!”
“I’m trying!” I hear hissed through gritted teeth.
I can guess to being stuffed into a car.
“Listen, Zo. I know things ain’t on the up and up with you two, but please don’t leave him until he can see about hisself.”
“Alton,” I hear a warning tone. “This is the father of my child. I don’t know what you believe, but I can assure you his well-being is of the utmost importance...to my child. I would never put him in a situation where he isn’t safe.”
“I know, Zo, it’s just that I know…him thinking about retirement all, and the depression because…well, you know.”
“No, I don’t know. What depression?”
“Al, we have to jet now to make that flight. The captain called two hours ago!” That’s another familiar voice.
“I gotta go, Zo. Please make sure my dude gets home safely.”
“Hold up, Alton!” the first feminine familiar voice calls out. “What did you mean depression?” Her tone is critical.
There’s a pause.
“Look, man. I’m not supposed to open my big fuckin’ mouth, but my man here ain’t been the same in a minute. But, Zo, man, dude’s fucking depressed about not having a life with you and my godson.”
And there’s a word that in my drunken state rings familiar. Depression.
There’s another long pause before I hear a feminine sigh, “Goodnight, Alton.”
Seconds later, the car starts and I’m out again.