Don't Ask My Neighbor by Kristofer Clarke Page B

she wasn’t going to concede. Soon, I broke my stare, and then walked and stood closer to the window with my hands in both pockets. I waited for her to break the silence that crowded the space around us.
    “What happened, Ryle?”
    I pretended her question fell on deaf ears. I felt a freeze overcoming my body as my day of destruction began replaying in my mind. While I showed Samantha what love could do, she spent her time teaching me a valuable lesson in what hate and greed could do, because she must have hated me.
    “Ryle!”
    Priscilla’s voice was closer.
    “She raped me,” I said, and paused.
    “What the hell are you talking about?” Priscilla asked, looking around as if someone heard her shout.
    “She raped me of everything I spent my entire life working hard to earn. My dream of one day becoming United States Attorney was destroyed because of her.”
    “How did you let her do that?”
    “Let her?” I said, finally turning around to face Pricilla. “I didn’t let her do anything but walk back into my life when I knew I shouldn’t have. I ignored the lesson I learned the first time. And why?”
    “I’m sorry. You know what I mean.”
    “You think if I could have stopped her, I would’ve let anything she did happen? I didn’t know what she was up to. I was blindsided. A fucking football helmet under my goddamn ribs, and he just stood there, staring at me as I watched my dream crumble.”
    “Who is he?”
    I was going to start talking, but my cellphone buzzed, reminding of my meeting with DeVince at the Central Detention Facility in Southeast D.C. I walked back to my desk, grabbed my briefcase from the floor, and began to carelessly place the files, my laptop, and notebook inside. I walked to the door and removed my suit jacket from the coat rack on the left side of the door. Priscilla stood and looked at me as if she were looking at craziness and didn’t know how to react to it.
    “Priscilla,” I yelled as I pulled the door open. “Are you coming?”
    “Sure,” she said, quick-stepping toward me. “I just have to grab my coat from my office.”
    “Fine. Meet me in the front of the building,” I said, walking out the door with Priscilla followin g a few steps behind me.
    I purposely kept Samantha’s actions from Priscilla. If Priscilla were going to be the associate attorney on the cases I defended, I needed to have her trust. I didn’t need any cloud of uncertainty hanging over her head. I knew and believed in my innocence. Unfortunately, those I expected to believe lik ewise, held firmly to my guilt.
    I rode the elevator in silence. I leaned against the hardwood handrail and concentrated on my image in one of the full-length mirrors on either side of the elevator cab. I fixed the knot in my tie and pondered my imminent conversation with Priscilla. I’ve had this conversation formally with four others in the firm, which included Nixon Lorenzo. As if they took an oath of silence or had been issued a gag order, the other employees in the firm had spoken no evil since my arrival.
     

     
    Ten
    _____
     
    Second Time Around
     
    Samantha   
     
     
     
    “IF I WERE TO ASK YOU to marry me, what would you say?” Jelani asked between a bite of his Atlantic Skate filet, brown caper-lemon sauce, endives, potatoes, and shitake mushrooms.
    I hated when men talked about marriage in the hypothetical. I mean, if those four words were somewhere between your tonsils and the tip of your damn tongue, buy a ring, get on one knee, and pop the damn question. Have some confidence. If she were going to say no, you would have gotten several hints along the way. When it came to Jelani, I don’t think the word “no” existed in my lexis.
    “It depends,” I said, smiling. “Is ‘no’ an option?”
    “Of course not .”
    “Then I guess we already know the answer to that question.”
    I leisurely placed my fork on the white cloth napkin beside the platter, extended my arm across the table, and dangled