What Are Girlfriends For?
by
Sammie Ward
Smashwords Edition
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PUBLISHED BY:
Lady Leo Publishing on Smashwords
What Are Girlfriends For?
Copyright © 2008 by Sammie Ward
No parts of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photo copying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Lady Leo Publishing. For more information write Lady Leo Publishing, P.O. Box 14283, Silver Spring, MD 20911
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to person’s living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
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I stared unbelievingly at my boyfriend who was sitting in front of the television set. “Nothing but net!” he bellowed at the Lakers after Kobe Bryant hit a three-pointer. Tonight I wasn’t concerned with the game. Our two-year relationship was in trouble. We needed to call a timeout so we could discuss our next play.
A second later, Jonathan screamed, “Defense!” and jumped off the sofa after Lamar Odom blocked a shot. “Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about.”
I crossed my leg over the other, swinging it back and forth. Once I tell him how it is, I thought to myself, I’ll feel a whole lot better. Jonathan didn’t bother looking my way as he leaned back on the sofa, tilted his head back, and gulped beer. I rolled my eyes upward. On top of everything else, it was my birthday.
“Come on!” he threw both hands up in disgust when the Milwaukee Bucks scored another basket. “Rebound!”
Six months ago, Jonathan asked me to become his wife. I needed time to think about the proposal. The way I feel toward him at the moment, I’m sure more than ever what my answer will be.
I want to be with a man whom I feel passion and love for. The passion has died out of our relationship. I will always love Jonathan, but I was no longer in love with him. The ringing of the telephone snapped me out of my thoughts. Another interruption. The way the day was going, it seemed I would never get around to discussing our relationship.
I rambled around in my purse, retrieved a pink cellular phone, and flipped it open.
“Happy birthday, girl!” a female voice said over the line.
It was Shauna Summer, my best friend and coworker. We both were accountants at Roger& Meeks, a successful firm in downtown Washington, DC.
“It’s my birthday, but it’s not a happy one,” I vented. “What’s wrong?” “I didn’t even get a card.” “Maybe Jonathan has something planned later.” Shauna was aware of the strained relationship between Jonathan and me. I knew she was only trying to make me feel better.
“Well, it looks like to me the only thing he plans to do is sit, drink beer, and watch the playoffs.”
Shauna sighed. “I tell you what. This is your day. How about I take you out?”
“Shauna, I know what you’re trying to do, but it’s not necessary.”
“Nonsense. Get dressed. We’re going to Cadence.” I had to admit the idea of going to an upscale and classy supper club on my birthday was just what I needed. I’d never been there, but Shauna boasted that the clientele was impressive among the African-American community.
“What do you say?” she prompted.
Instead of answering Shauna’s question, I asked, “Don’t you need a reservation to get in?”
“Don’t worry about that. I will handle everything. Just meet me at the club at eight o’clock.”
The dial tone sounded in my ear.
I closed the phone and met Jonathan’s inquiring eyes.“Who was that?” he asked.
“Shauna.”
He looked irritated. “What was she talking about?”
“She wants to take me out for my birthday.” Despite what was going on between us, I was hoping Jonathan would say he didn’t want me to go, that he has plans. He didn’t. Without another word, he refocused on the game.
At exactly eight o’clock, I pulled the Volvo in front of the club. I looked out the window and saw a well-dressed couple emerge from a Lexus and head for the entrance.
I self-consciously ran my hand over my tan, two-piece expensive pants suit, with matching pumps, that I had purchased for my birthday. “ This is my day”, I said to myself. Even though Jonathan’s actions had hurt me, I was determined to have a good time.
A valet stood waiting. I tipped the young man and he sped away.
I stepped inside a set of massive mahogany doors affixed with brass hardware and found myself immersed in grandeur of beauty. The golden recessed lights glistened against gold-toned fixtures, floor-to-floor ceiling stained-glass windows, and green leafy plants near a man-made waterfall.
I thought about sitting in the breathtaking foyer to wait for Shauna and watch the customers come and go, but curiosity got the best of me when the band ended a number, followed by applause, and whistles of appreciation.
I peeped in the posh interior of the restaurant, which was dressed in shades of gold and cream. There were large pillars, erect like military soldiers, standing at attention. Customers seemed to be enjoying themselves, laughing, talking, and sitting at tables with small intimate lamps.