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“Julian James,” he said, answering on the third ring. He sounded kind of tired. Maybe even sad.
“Hey…um. Hey. It’s Troy.”
“Troy, wow. Hi.” He actually perked up when he heard my voice. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. I’m on my way to teach my class at the center,” I managed.
“Oh, yeah, the ballet class, right?”
He still remembered my schedule! Okay, calm down, Troy. It’s only been a few days.
“Yeah,” I said.
“I wanted to call you, Troy,” Julian whispered into the phone. I could tell by the people talking loudly in the background that he was walking through the hospital. “I wanted to say I was sorry for the other day. About how I acted. There are just some things going on.”
I was thinking: What things? What things? Come clean, fool! Come clean now and we can kill the trick together!
But I said: “Oh, it’s fine, Julian. Really. That’s why I’m calling. I wanted to tell you that it’s okay.” Light as a feather, I reminded myself. “I’m actually glad you did what you did. I agree with you.”
“You agree?”
“Yeah. I mean, I could use some space too, with school and everything. I’m very busy,” I said.
“You’re busy? It’s been, like, three days since the breakup.”
“Yeah, well, I’m very busy.” I couldn’t believe he was making me sound so…available.
“Cool, I guess,” Julian said awkwardly. I had him right where I wanted him. Tasha was right. It was working.
“In fact,” I went on, “I want to be friends.”
“Friends?” He sounded like someone had dropped a ton of bricks on his Benz. “What are you talking about, baby?”
Let me just say here: There should be some kind of rule about men calling you “baby” after a breakup. It’s kind of like playing the wild card in Uno—if you use it enough, you can’t lose. He had no right to call me “baby”…but I confess, I liked it.
“What I’m talking about, Julian, is us moving on as friends.”
“Are you okay, Troy? This isn’t like you,” Julian said. “To be honest, and don’t take this the wrong way, I expected you to be a bit more upset and less…well…breezy about all of this. It’s kind of scary.”
“Ju Ju.” I used his childhood nickname, knowing he hated that. “We’re cool. There’s no reason to panic. In fact, I wanted to invite you to a reception for my Nana Rue’s new play this Saturday. It’s in Harlem at the Harambee Theatre.”
“Oh, I really don’t know if that’s a good idea. So soon.”
A good idea? What in the hell did he mean “a good idea”? But then I reminded myself: Light as a feather. Light as a feather.
“Well, that’s fine. I’ll just speak to you later, then,” I said, wanting to toss the phone in the toilet. It was the “lightest” thing I could think of. Then, just as I was about to say goodbye…
“Wait. I’ll go,” Julian cut in. “You’re right, Troy. We can be friends, and I’ve always wanted to meet Rue. So I guess this is my chance. When and what time?”
“Well, it’s next Saturday at 7 p.m.”
“Cool. I’ll pick you up at your place?” he asked.
“No…” I remembered Tasha’s instructions. I wanted him to come pick me up so badly. Maybe he’d come upstairs for a drink…maybe we’d end up in bed and…Oh shit! Who am I fooling? “No, I need to meet you there,” I said. “I have a dinner thing before and I may be a little late, so it’s best if I catch up with you at the theater.” I struggled not to sound like I was reading a script.
“Well, okay,” Julian said, obviously a bit thrown with my suggestion. “I guess we’re set, then.”
“Yeah, we’re set.” I smiled, thinking of his hazel eyes. For one moment I thought I’d never see them again.
