Come Alive Read Free Page A

told David I was black inside, but I was wrong. I hadn’t known it,
but I was empty. And for one stolen moment, he had filled me with himself,
physically and emotionally. Now I was black. Now I was poisoned. I was
so reprehensible, that instead of the constant regret I should have felt, it
only came in fleeting waves.
    I recalled his hands in my hair, his breath on my skin, his mouth between
my breasts . . . . Just fucking stop, I pleaded
with myself. I have to forget, please, I can’t do this anymore.
    The reason I didn’t feel was because I didn’t want to, not because I
couldn’t. The scorching memory of our one night would destroy me if I let it. Already
the guilt constantly dripped into the cracks of my interior.
    The ringing of the office phone shredded through my thoughts. I pinched
the bridge of my nose and sat upright. Work was the one thing in my life that
never let me down, never judged or condemned me. I returned to my desk and hit the
speakerphone button.
    “What time is the bachelorette party tonight?” Bill’s
voice filled the office.
    “Seven o’clock,” I said, wiggling my mouse to
wake up the computer. “When is Andrew’s?”
    “Same. Think you can get off a little early? I
have a surprise for you.”
    “A surprise?” I repeated cautiously.
    “Yeah, can you?”
    “I don’t know. I’m sort of backed up here.” I
rubbed my eyes and refocused on the screen.
    “Please? I’m really excited.”
    “All right,” I relented. “I’ll skip lunch.”
    “I’ll pick you up downstairs at four, k? Love
you.”
    ~
    I
waited downstairs for Bill on a street-facing concrete bench, wondering what the
surprise could possibly be. When the car arrived at the curb, I could hear Bon
Jovi on full volume: that was a good sign.
    “Hey,” he said when I climbed in. “Ready for
your surprise?”
    “Yes.” Because I had promised myself to try
harder, I took his hand.
    He squeezed it. “It’s a bit of a drive, so sit
back and relax.”
    As we discussed our impending parties, it became
evident that we were leaving the city altogether. I recognized the point when
we were entering Oak Park, but I still had no idea what his intentions were. It
was when we turned onto a familiar street that I recognized my surroundings.
    “Don’t get any grand ideas,” he warned.
    Our search for the perfect home had been put on pause
after Davena’s death. Now we were on the block of the
last house we’d seen over three months before. I recalled the afternoon with
our realtor Jeanine; the awkwardness at her suggestion of a nursery and the ensuing
argument where he’d tried to convince me that I was ready to have children. That
house had sold though, he’d told me bitterly back in June. Unless
it had fallen through, and . . . Oh, no . Don’t let the surprise be a house. Would
he go that far?
    He pulled up to the same spot we had parked with
Jeanine months before.
    “Bill – ”
    “No, no,” he stopped me. “Just wait.” We both
climbed out of the car, and he turned around. “I’ve been working on this with
Jeanine for a while.” He wasn’t looking at the house we’d visited last time,
though. I followed his gaze to the eyesore of a house across the street from it.
    It was still as ugly and unkempt as before.
Ferns drooped heavily, blocking the front door. Grey stone crumbled in some
spots. Paint under the windows peeled. But it had that same draw. The same endearing
character that had appealed to me the first time I’d seen it.
    “The owners are big shots in Hollywood,” Bill
explained, “who don’t even care about the property. They told her they’d be
willing to sell it for a good price because of the poor shape. Since they
rarely get to Chicago, they granted her access to show it to us.”
    I looked from Bill to the house. He had
remembered my comments that day. To my surprise, I smiled. “Wow. Honey, this is
so thoughtful.”
    “It would be a lot of effort, and we’d probably
have to stay in the