Chapter 7
If you were my woman.
Ana
Soulé sent a few glances my way here and there, but that was it. She was composed, one hand resting on the wheel, the other shifted gears with ease.
I envied that control. My hands kept fidgeting in my lap, fingers fussing along the length of my dress.
“You are nervous,” she said, gazing my way before turning to face the road.
“I’m overdone,” I admitted, my tone thinner than intended. “I feel like I’m pretending.”
Out of the corner of my eye, she frowned; her jaw tightened. “Pretending? Nonsense,” she said. “You’re going to turn heads tonight. Come on, Ana. Look at you.”
I hesitated. Then I gazed her way. Her attention was fixed on the road, but the slight shake of her head as she spoke told me she wasn’t letting this go.
“Trust me, you’re not pretending anything.”
Her words flushed up my neck. I peered out the window, a small smile visible on my lips. I didn’t want her to notice. “Thanks,” I said, my voice shy. I cleared my throat, trying to regain that composure. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Not so bad? I’ll take it.” She adjusted her tie as we reached a red light. The movement was so casual that it almost made me forget that this whole evening was nerve-wracking. “But I’ll tell you a secret.”
“We’re sharing secrets again? We’re that close?”
“Of course, I waste no time.”
I chuckled. “Tell me. What’s your secret, Soulé?”
She leaned toward me conspiratorially, then raised a hand to the side of her mouth, as if to share the grand secret of secrets. “I’m nervous too,” she said.
I blinked, surprised. “You? Nervous?” I scoffed, though there was no real bite to it. “You? The embodiment of ‘arrogance’.”
“Arrogance?” She feigned offense. “Manzè1, I’m a very humble soul. It’s in my name. Soul—é.”
“Is that the meaning of your name?”
“Soulé Amandélé Nallamoutou,” she said, nodding. “The soulful one. She who carries power, born of goodness.”
“That’s... a lot to live up to,” I said.
She cocked her head. “It’s not about living up to it. It’s about remembering where I come from when the world tries to make me forget.”
I glanced at her, saying. “I like your name.”
She glanced at me, then back to the road. “What’s your full name?”
“Ana Salomé Célestin,” I told her.
She hummed. “Grace, torn between peace and passion, heavenly. Something worth of worship...”
“You got all this from my name.”
“I love the significance of names. They reveal a lot about identity. A sense of self begins with names.”
“Interesting. I always thought my name was biblical because my dad was a pastor. Never thought anything beyond that.”
“Your parents were intentional with the name. Ana Salomé Célestin. Sounds like a prophecy no one’s ready for. It suits you. I like it.”
I smiled. I couldn’t help it. “You’re insane, Soulé.”
“I sure am, Ana, for a woman like you,” she said.
I peeked out the window, hiding the warmth blooming across my cheeks.
“You mind if I put something on?” She asked as we pulled into an intersection. Before I could respond, she tapped her phone, and a rich, smooth oldie filled the car—a soulful harmony with a grainy nostalgia. I didn’t know who that was.
I stared at the dashboard’s screen. “What song is that? Sounds like something I’d listen to.”
Soulé gasped, mock-offended. “You’ve never heard of Sade? I need a moment. I think my ancestors just fainted.”
I chuckled. “Sorry, how old do you think I am?”
She side-eyed me. “You tell me.”
“Twenty-four.”
She clutched her chest. “Twenty-four! You were born in two thousand! Goddamn. I need a drink. I have cardigans older than you.”
“You wear cardigans? How old are you?”
“Thirty. And you’re missing the point.”
We laughed, and that easy sense of warmth unraveled in the air as the music played.
We slowed at another red light. The speckled rain had diminished, leaving way to subtle pecks against the window. The soundless hum of the engine accompanied the pecks, filling the air once again with an easy silence.
“I almost forgot,” she said, shifting in her seat to reach inside the inner pocket of her suit, where she pulled out a small, velvet box.
I furrowed my brow as I turned to her. “What’s that?”
She smiled, not with the usual smirk she carried, but with something soft and almost shy. “Stanley wanted me to give this to you, a way to apologize for not picking you up tonight. Here.” She handed me the box.
The small box was heavier than it appeared. “Soulé, what is this?” I asked, even as I flipped the lid. The most delicate necklace appeared: a pearl nestled in a thin gold chain.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, unable to stop myself from tracing the edge of the pendant with my fingers.
“You’re easily moved, Ana,” she chuckled, watching me with an intensity that fluttered my heart. “But I’ll give him that. It’s beautiful how happy it makes you.”
My heart stuttered as I stared at her. “Soulé, this is—it’s too much. You—He didn’t have to...”
“Ana, it’s alright,” she spoke, cutting in. “You don’t have to wear it. It’s your choice. But... I’m sure Stanley would love it if you did. It’s his way of apologizing.”
She stopped in front of the hotel where the event was taking place. The valet attended to a few cars before us. Soulé turned to me, grabbing the small velvet box from my hand.
“May I?” She asked, holding it up.
I shifted my gaze from the velvet box to her eyes.
She glanced out her windshield to look at the valets, then back at me. “Could you turn around for me?”
I did.
She leaned closer, and her cologne enveloped me as she clasped the necklace around my neck. Her fingers brushed the nape of my neck, and I shivered, which I knew she noticed, because her fingers lingered longer.
“There,” she murmured, reverence fastening every syllable. “You are perfect.”
I turned back to face her, reaching for the necklace, while my eyes fluttered everywhere but to her face. “Thank you,” I murmured. “It’s beautiful.”
Her smile softened, and for a moment, a twinkle of nerves in her eyes flitted. “Ready?”
I let my hand fall from the pendant and smoothed my dress one last time. “Yeah,” I said. “I’m ready.”
She exited her car, handed the keys to the valet as they opened my door, and helped me out.
She offered her arm for me to grab. “They are not ready for you, Ana.”
We walked into the hotel and headed up a spiral staircase to a grand ballroom. Chandeliers overhead, subtle music playing in the background, and well-dressed guests floating about in the lobby, chatting and waiting for the event to begin. I didn’t quite fit in, but Soulé’s hands grazed my lower back, reassuring me.
“There you are,” Soulé said, walking to a table near the front of the stage.
Thank God! Mama Davis.
When we reached her table, her whole face lit up. “Well, if it isn’t my two favorite people,” Mama Davis said. Her gaze lingered on me, and she smiled. “Ana, sweetheart, you’re glowing. That necklace suits you. You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I said, my fingers brushing the pendant. “You look beautiful, too, Mama Davis.”
Mama Davis took my hand in hers. “And you’re sweet for saying so, thank you. Won’t you keep me company while we wait for Stanley to show? He should be any minute now.”
Soulé leaned down to kiss Mama Davis’s cheek. “Mama, you’re stealing Ana already?”
“You’ll be running about anyway. A group of people is already making a beeline for you. Go away from here. Not trying to deal with crowds.” She teased, patting Soulé’s arm.
Soulé smirked, her brown eyes catching me and holding for a minute longer than necessary. “I’m off,” she said, her voice taking on a lower depth that did something to me. “Enjoy your evening, Ana.”
There was an inexplicable softness in the way she said this, each word brushed with an almost imperceptible tenderness. A faint smile tugged the corners of her mouth, softening what contrasted with the defined lines etched there by time and thought.
But it was her eyes, those deep, endless pools of brown, that gripped me.
Within their depths, shadows flickered, whispers of words left unsaid. A truth perched precariously on the edge of her gaze, as if waiting for courage to catch up with circumstance. It unsettled me, intimidated me.
Was I being delusional?
Or was I mistaking kindness for something deeper, because, despite myself, I was desperate for it to be true?
My heart faltered, somersaulted out of my control. And she was gone, disappearing into the crowd, leaving me in that small moment that somehow was enough to disorient me.
I stayed with Mama Davis, engaging in light conversation while my eyes betrayed me, flitting toward Soulé. She moved through the room, greeting whom I could only assume were colleagues and business friends. She stood out, and I couldn’t help but notice how people were drawn to her. She glanced back at me, her gaze lingering, and my heart stuttered in response, while my eyes averted every time they met hers.
“She’s something, isn’t she?” Mama Davis said, low enough only I could hear.
I turned to her. Unable to maintain eye contact, my cheeks warmed.
“That’s my Soulé,” Mama Davis said. “Always making quite the impression, I see.”
“I didn’t mean to stare...” I began, my cheeks burning.
Mama Davis chuckled. “It’s alright, sweetie. She has that effect on people, especially women.” Mama Davis tilted her chin towards a group nearby, where two women stood with Soulé, laughing loud enough that the shamelessness traveled.
Before I could say anything, Stanley showed up.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Stanley said as he approached the table, out of breath but smiling. His suit was impeccable, though the tie appeared hastily adjusted. He greeted his mom before taking a seat next to me.
“Always running on your own time, aren’t you?” Mama Davis gave him a knowing look.
“Only when it counts,” he replied before returning to me. “Ana,” he said, “thanks for waiting. And for...being here with me.”
“Stanley, you didn’t have to—”
“I did,” he interrupted me, nodding toward the necklace. “I’m glad you accepted it. It looks perfect on you.”
Soulé re-emerged from the crowd where she had hidden, and I forgot I owed Stanley a response. Our eyes met once more, and my heart, yet again, betrayed me.
The danger wasn’t in her; it was in the way the light kissed her, and the quiet promise of ruin if I stepped any closer.
Her jawline. Her nose. The crinkle in her eyes when she smiled at someone across the room. Her forehead. The effortless way she commanded without asking. Her suit was a perfect cut, but the way she moved in it made my mouth water.
Stanley’s voice brought me back. “You okay?” He asked, leaning closer.
“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’m... a bit overwhelmed.” I glanced away, where Soulé stood, but she disappeared again, swallowed up by the crowd.
And, out of nowhere, my chest was a fault line, split by something too big to name, too fast to catch.
My palms were damp. The room spun, making me want to run. So, I did.
I stood, smoothing the nonexistent creases on my dress as if that would smooth me too. “Excuse me for a moment. I need to go freshen up,” I said. And without waiting for a reply, I stepped away from the table, my thoughts racing faster than my heels clicking against the polished floor.
I needed air.
The restroom was tranquil, with no crowds, and music filtered through the walls. I braced myself against the marble sink, my hands trembling as I tried to catch my breath.
I clung to the ritual: in for four, hold for four, out for eight. But the air banished. Even breathing had become a burden.
It wasn’t the event, but something else. Something inexplicable stirred in my chest every time I saw her.
Soulé.
She moved with the certainty of gravity; her voice, a slow-drifting incantation—silk in the dark, smoke in the lungs.
Oh, and her laugh—God, her laugh—already lodged itself in my sternum, uninvited.
I wouldn’t say I liked this; being unmoored, out of control. A riot of growth under skin, everything blooming, begging, breaking to get out. And it was ruining me.
“Ana?”
Soulé’s voice found me before her reflection did.
She stepped inside, her concern evident, yet not on her face. She kept her distance, not pushing, and only waited.
“What’s wrong?” She asked, her gaze falling to the hand clutching my chest.
I started breathing faster.
That was when she rushed closer to me and grabbed my arm. “You’re breathing too fast.” She guided me to a small, cushioned bench near the wall. “Sit down.”
She knelt before me, one hand resting on my shoulder before sliding up to caress my cheek, while the other held my wrist.
“Breathe with me, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth,” she said. She inhaled, exhaled, and nodded for me to follow.
I tried, but it was shaky at first. Her presence made it easier—somehow. Her cologne, with its warm and forest-mist scent, and the quiet strength in those brown eyes, steadied me. My chest loosened, and my breathing fell in sync with hers.
“There you go,” she said, lips curving into a reassuring smile. “Better?”
“Yeah,” I murmured, avoiding her eyes. “Thanks. I didn’t mean to...”
“Stop,” she gently interrupted. “You don’t have to explain anything. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I needed air, or silence, or... not to be here.”
“Understandable. It’s your first time at an event like this.”
I turned toward her and caught her eyes lingering on my neckline. I touched the emerald, unsure who I was wearing it for.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, lifting her gaze from the necklace to meet my eyes. Her hand still rested softly on my cheek, her thumb grazing it fervently. “But you’re doing a lot of heavy lifting for a gift someone else picked.”
“You gave it to me.”
She cleared her throat, then abruptly pulled her hand away, standing and stepping back.
“I delivered,” she corrected. “Don’t confuse the messenger with the message.”
She studied me, her deep eyes searching mine, before stepping back. “How’s the night going so far?”
“Well, considering I was having a panic attack...” I stood. “You tell me.”
Soulé chuckled. “You love it?” She asked.
I didn’t trust myself to say more, so my head only bobbed up and down.
“It is a beautiful piece,” she said, lowering her gaze to my collarbone where the pearl rested. She reached out, brushing the edge of the necklace until her fingers found the single pearl. Then she tugged at it lightly before withdrawing her hand. “Stanley’s great, you know. But” —her eyes locked onto me, intense, stealing my breath away— “if you were my woman, I’d want to be the one to put a necklace on you.”
My heart skipped a beat. And for a moment, a hush surrounded us; it was only the faint jazz and the rush of blood in my ears. I opened my mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come out.
Her eyes dawdled on me, then dropped to my lips. Not enough to say I want you, but enough to let me know she had...
“Do you like him? Stanley, I mean.”
I wavered; her question caught me off guard. “I... I think so,” I said, “I mean, it’s the first step, right? I’m still getting to know him. My parents... they like him. They’re hoping for something more between us.”
“What about you?” She asked. “Are you hoping for more?”
“I...”
She didn’t let me finish.
“Do you always do what your parents want?” She asked as she took a step forward. “Aren’t you grown, Ana? You’re an adult woman, right? Last I checked, you’re free to live as you wish. This is a free country,” she scoffed, a rueful smirk appearing, “for now, at least.”
A slow blink escaped me, and my jaw clenched; a knot of shame and defensiveness tightened in my gut. My shoulders hunched forward to shield myself from her gaze. I couldn’t meet her eyes, fixing instead on a point beyond her left ear.
“It’s not that simple,” I said.
“Isn’t it?” Her voice was soft, but there was steel threaded through it. “They like him. He’s safe. He fits. He smiles on cue. But does he make your lungs tighten when he walks into a room? Do you panic because being near him strangles you, and you beg for air?”
As she advanced, I backed away, gasping when my lower back hit the sink. The air thinned, and a slight tremor ran through my palm as I gripped the edge of the marble.
She moved closer still. Her gaze traced the length of my body without shame. And I was visibly shaking.
She saw it.
“Do you tremble like that when you’re with him?” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip as her eyes traveled over my body. “Like this.” Her voice was burning me entirely. “As if your body dared to be braver… than your mouth could ever be.” She then leaned in closer and whispered in my ear. “Are you scared of me?”
I gulped, my fingers tightened around the edge of the sink, because she dared, God, to sniff the side of my neck.
Soulé stepped back, then cocked her head, watching my unsaid excuses crumble in real time. “You know what I think?” She continued.
“What?” I mumbled.
“You don’t want Stanley, but as long as your parents approve of him, you can pretend that wanting anyone or anything else isn’t real.”
I ... had nothing to say to that. What would I even say—that she read me open, and I crumbled?
Soulé’s gaze stayed on me until she glanced at her watch. “The event’s about to start. I should head back.” She stepped away. “Will you be okay going to the ballroom alone?”
I nodded, needing the space more than I wanted to admit. “I’ll be fine.”
“Alright. Take your time.”
And with that, she left, the click of the door ringing until it faded, and it was my heartbeat. Then, the remnants of her voice, a faint echo: If you were my woman, I’d want to be the one to put a necklace on you.
She’d said it as if that were an organic, natural thing for a woman to say to another woman.
Women didn’t say things like that to other women, not in my world.
I gathered my thoughts and returned to the event just in time to catch Soulé’s speech. I sat next to Stanley and grabbed his arm, as my mother had taught me. I was his woman as God required for a woman to be with a man.
And as she called his name to receive his award, I stood with him and let him kiss me, in front of everyone, before he walked to the stage to receive his award from Soulé.
Soulé hugged him and made her way down the stage. Her eyes reached me, and my gaze averted, as I tried to focus on the man I accompanied this evening.
Because I shouldn’t be into women...
... I think.
Miss