Jonathan and I sat in the break room, sipping our sodas. He insisted that everyone call him Jonathan, except for me: he said I could call him Jackie as I was, as he put it, "a darlin' with nothing to hide".
I was 24 and he was 32, so not really a big age difference there. He and I worked in retail, myself in the clothing department, and he was in the receiving area. We had a lot of things in common, except for the fact that I was white and he was black.
He and I were both lovers of soul music, and I think that's really what kind of got our friendship started about a year ago, when he first came to work here. Like I said, we were friends, nothing more.
But that's not to say that I didn't occasionally think of him a more-than-platonic way. He had a great sense of humor, and such a cute, infectious smile. And since he worked in receiving area, he had, what a call a "modestly strong body". At the moment, he was talking to me about his date over the weekend, which I really didn't want to hear, since I was in a dating drought.
"So I brought her home," he continued. "And I understand girls don't always want sex on the first date and all, but all I was asking for was a kiss goodnight, you know?"
"Yeah, I know," I said, bored and jealous with this conversation.
"Laura, what the hell is your problem? Don't you care how my date went?"
I rolled my eyes, "Well, why do you always have to tell me about your dates when you know that I haven't been on a date in a long time? Why do you have to shove it in my face?" I got up and threw my soda out and walked down the slim hallway that led to the main part of the store.
Jackie caught up with me and grabbed my arm, "Laura, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. Please don't be angry."
I pulled away from him and headed back to the clothing section, where my main duty was to arrange the clothes and basically make sure that they were organized and neatly arranged for the customers. I felt bad about being so rough on Jackie, but on the other hand, he did irritate me, and my quick temper didn't exactly help the situation.
An hour later, I clocked out and went on home to my apartment and to my kitty, Wendy, who always loved me no matter what. I slipped my shoes off and laid my purse on the table and sat on the couch. Wendy jumped onto the couch with a purr, snuggling in my arms.
My sister was going to come over later. My sister, who was 22, married, and had a baby son, and here I was 24 and couldn't even find a date. I hated to admit it, but I was one of those girls who needed a man. Or at least I felt like I needed a man. I called up my sister and told her I was sick and that I wasn't feeling well enough to see her and her family that night.
And, somehow, that wasn't a total lie.
At 2 o'clock in the morning I woke up sick. I mean, really sick. I had diarrhea and was throwing up and feeling faint and nauseas. There was no way I was going to make it into work in the morning, so I called in sick. I didn't know what was wrong with me - maybe food poisoning or maybe just something bad I had eaten. At 5 a.m., when it felt like I had gotten everything out of my system, I took a quick shower and went back to bed, shutting off my alarm clock.
At around 11 that morning, I woke up, feeling better, but with still a slight ache in my stomach. I put a movie in and settled into bed, watching my dvd.
About an hour later I heard a knock at the front door.
"Who is it?" I hollered from my bedroom.
I heard a muffled voice.
"Who?" I yelled again.
"It's Jackie!" I heard him say.
I was surprised that he came over, but I hollered for him to come on in. I didn't dare get out of bed - I was in a comfortable position, and didn't want to risk getting sick again.
