Deborah Mello - Always Means Forever

“Are you okay, dear?” she’d asked.

Bridget had forced a smile on her face and had nodded her head. “Yes, ma’am. I’m fine, thank you. Just clumsy is all.”

“Are you sure now? I can call somebody if you need me to.”

“That’s not necessary, Mrs. Gibson.”

“Well, if you say so…”

“Thanks for everything, Mrs. Gibson. You have a nice evening,” Bridget chimed as she’d moved too quickly to close her front door. As she’d secured the lock, she’d heaved a deep sigh and had cussed again. Reaching for her purse, she’d picked up the contents that had scattered across the floor and dropped them all onto the wooden bench that decorated the entranceway.

Wanting to cry, she’d let the first wave of hot tears flow over her cheeks, her palm rubbing gingerly against her bruised leg. Before the tears could flood into a full sob the telephone on the end table at her side rang, pulling at her attention.

Bridget had shaken her head as she’d pulled the receiver into her hand, noting the familiar number on the caller ID. “Hello?”

“You have some mail, dear!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Gibson.”

“Just wanted you to know.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As she hung up the telephone, Bridget heaved another deep sigh. She had grown weary of the old woman’s timely reminders ages ago but had kept her annoyance to herself because Mrs. Gibson was better than any alarm system would ever be. Her watchful eye monitored all the comings and goings that occurred between her door and the entrances of the other occupants who resided in the small complex. And, for the most part, she was actually very sweet when she wanted to be.

Making her way to the rear of her home, Bridget had moved into the kitchen, searching her freezer for an ice pack to hold off the swelling. She had to be in court early the next morning and she didn’t need a bum leg slowing her down. The telephone ringing for a second time served to further distract her.

“Hello?”

“Bridget, turn on your television!” a voice had screamed from the other end.

“What? Jeneva? Is that you?”

“Of course it’s me. Turn on your television. Channel 76. Hurry!”

Bridget had reached for the remote and turned on the small, seven-inch monitor that was positioned beneath her oak cabinets. Her best friend’s excitement filled her ears.

“Isn’t he adorable! Look how cute he is! Hold on. I have to call Roshawn.”

Jeneva’s brother-in-law, Darwin Tolliver, beamed at Bridget from the television screen, the good-looking man promoting his new cooking show on the Homes and Food Network. He had been cute. Too cute, and Bridget had only been reminded that yet another man she’d been interested in hadn’t been interested in her.

Jeneva came back on the line. “Roshawn’s not home. I’ll have to call her later. So, what’s up with you?” she’d asked cheerily.

Bridget took a seat at the kitchen counter. “I lost my job.”

“What?” Jeneva’s voice was brimming with surprise. “What happened?”

“The partners are merging with another firm. It seems the new partners already have one intelligent, skilled, black female attorney on the roster and they don’t feel they have a need for a second.”

“Oh, sweetie! I’m so sorry,” her best friend hummed into the receiver.

Bridget nodded. “They’ll be transitioning our case-loads over and closing the doors in the next two to six weeks. I will actually be closing out my cases in the next few days so there’s really little left for me to do. Then I’ll officially be unemployed.”

“That stinks. So, what do you plan to do?”

“I don’t have a clue.”

The two had talked for another hour and when she’d finally hung up the telephone, Bridget had been sufficiently depressed. As she’d sat there staring blankly at the television set, the station ran the commercial for a second time. When Darwin Tolliver crooned his slogan “Let me show you how it’s done!” a chill had shimmered down her spine, straight into the pit of her stomach. What she wouldn’t give to have Darwin Tolliver show her anything his heart desired, she’d thought, the words floating into the empty room as she spoke them out loud.

That had only been a few hours ago, and if the dream was any sign, she still had the effects of seeing Darwin on her brain. Her bladder was now screaming loudly and Bridget shook the clouds of memory from her head. She eased her body up onto her feet and limped into the bathroom. Just thinking about Darwin Tolliver again had made her stomach flutter. She’d had a crush on the man since forever. The two had met years ago when his twin brother, Mecan, and her friend Jeneva had fallen head over heels in love. Her infatuation for him had even caused a brief rift between her and her other best friend, Roshawn Bradsher, when she’d accused the woman’s playful flirtations with him of being something much more. The two of them had worked through their differences and Bridget had been happy for her girl when Roshawn had gone on to meet and marry the love of her life, famed baseball star Angel Rios. Bridget was now godmother to their two children, three-year-old Dario and infant Belinda.

Between distance, bad timing and other relationships she and Darwin had never managed to hook up, though, and now here she was, still alone, unemployed, dreaming about men who would probably never cross her path. As she slid back beneath the warmth of her covers, Bridget shook her head for the umpteenth time. Things surely didn’t look like they were going to get any better anytime soon, so she hoped her dream lover would still be hard, wanting, and waiting for her when she finally fell back to sleep.

Darwin Tolliver couldn’t help but think that there was something missing, and maybe whatever was missing was the reason he was so out of sorts. He looked around the enclosed office, observing the contemporary decor the television studio had paid far too much money to have installed. If the truth were to be told, the room really didn’t give him any warm and fuzzy feelings to get excited about.

Everything from the walls to the carpet and half of the furniture was done in a striking shade of ice-blue. The other half of the furniture was either upholstered in black leather or painted in a high-gloss black lacquer. Polished chrome accents completed the sparse ensemble. The room was supposed to be cutting-edge stylish but as Darwin sat in the midst of it, studying every minute detail, he wished he could have told the interior designer they’d hired that it actually felt very cold and impersonal. He sighed, blowing a warm gust of breath past his full lips.

Reaching for the telephone, he dialed quickly then leaned back in the black leather executive’s chair to wait for the line to be answered.

His twin brother’s voice bellowed from the other end. “Hello?”

“Hey, Mecan. It’s me.”

“Yo, Darwin. What’s up? How’s the new gig?” Mecan Tolliver asked.

Darwin shrugged, his broad shoulders reaching up toward his earlobes. “Starting out well. The show premieres next week and the initial reactions to the promos have been great.”

“I saw the commercial for the first time last night. You looked good, boy! You should have heard Jeneva on the phone calling her girls to check out the channel.”

“Your wife is too sweet. Tell her I said hello and kiss my niece for me.”

“Will do. Alexa’s been mimicking you since she saw you on TV. ‘Let me show you how it’s done!’” the man said, imitating his child’s singsong voice. “It’s too cute!” Mecan laughed, the wealth of it brimming over with pride for his five-year-old daughter. “So, for real, how are you doing? You sound a little down.”