The Heart is a Lonely Hunter Read online

  In reality, Peter Townsend was no more the man for Sylvia than RuPaul was but his rejection of her made him that much more appealing and she suddenly became obsessed with the thought of his making love to her.

  On Monday morning, Sylvia parked her car at the bottom of the hill and made the long trek up to Community Elementary School 73X. Anyone that paid any attention at all had to notice that Sylvia Shipp had a new air about her, a new spring in her walk. Stopping at the local bodega, she grabbed a bagel with cream cheese and a large regular coffee. She often wondered why she

  made the long trek up the hill each morning for exercise and then nullified it all by eating such fattening foods as cream cheese and sugar-laden coffee.

  Unlike most Monday mornings though, she was early. This gave her time to browse the tiny store and pick up a few dollars worth of penny candy for her kids, a newspaper and a couple of meat patties for her lunch. The bodega owner always made her feel welcome and had endeared himself to Sill from her initial visit. She could always count on him to throw in a Corn Frito or a plate of arroz con pollo that his wife made especially for her. When she was running late he would send one of his sons out to stand in front of the store with her breakfast so she wouldn’t have to stand in line. And there was always a line. But there was no need for that this morning. This morning, she was not only on time, she was early. When he recognized her, he shouted out, loud enough for all his customers to hear: “Tu te ve linda, hoy, Senorita Shipp.” Whenever Mr. Ramirez became excited he would inevitable switch, going back and forth between his native Spanish and broken English. This usually happened when he was angry or one of the local drunks tried to shortchange Mrs. Ramirez around a bottle of wine, but not today. Most of the people in the bodega were Hispanic and all turned to see the young woman who commanded such attention. Mrs. Ramirez agreed.”Si, Senorita, muy bonita,” she said. “Thank you, Mrs. Ramirez,” Sylvia replied. Any other time Sill would have been embarrassed to no end. But not today. Any other time she would have been ready to crawl up under the counter but not today. No, this was just the response she wanted. Her kids greeted her with the same enthusiasm telling her that she looked ‘really nice today’, when she arrived in the schoolyard for first bell.

  Sylvia had made it a point to call Mr. Cooper at home the previous night so he could arrange to have a substitute cover her class that afternoon. The disappointment showed in her students’ faces when she informed them that she would be leaving early. Not since the first week of school had they been this unruly. She was almost afraid to leave them with the substitute. But after a good tongue lashing they appeared better but there was no question that her leaving left them feeling abandoned and unwanted. After hugging each and promising to be there bright and early Tuesday morning, she left. She understood their fear. She too felt abandoned at times but in a little while she would remedy those same feelings that had haunted her while in college, in her final days in Elizabethtown and for most of her life.

  Mr. Cooper, who was usually rather close-lipped, looked wearily at Sylvia as she was leaving the school that fall afternoon. Suddenly fearful that he might be losing another promising young teacher, Mr. Cooper walked her to the front door of the school and held the door for her. She knew he wanted to ask her if she had an interview but was reluctant. The best he could do was to tell her she looked nice. A single, simple compliment from him was worth a thousand from anyone else. Well, almost anyone else. One more would make her day.

  Sylvia stepped out of the blue, Ford Escort looking like she belonged on a fashion runway. The brown tweed, Christian Dior suit she had purchased the day before at the quaint little consignment shop downtown brought out a quality that even she didn’t know she possessed. She didn’t just look rich. She looked elegant.

  Crossing the campus of Morehouse she was hardly oblivious to the stares. Smiling inside, she watched heads turn and slowed down to soak it all in. It had been several years since she’d walked across a college campus and never one quite as prestigious as this.

  Morehouse, with its historical buildings, bookish profs and preppy students, was a far cry from Tech or the tiny little girl’s college she’d attended. Well, just the fact that it was all male made it a far cry from Winfrey College but there was that elitist ambience of the intellectual bourgeois she’d become so accustomed to at Winfrey. She could feel it in the air. Bright, beautiful Black men from every walk of life crisscrossed the inner city campus the same way they would later cross the country, the world, making an impact as they went. There were some stares but the people here seemed far too sophisticated to punctuate the crisp fall air with catcalls and wolf whistles. Sylvia wondered why she hadn’t thought about attending Spellman, which was right across the street. She was by no means elitist but Morehouse appeared to have a better class of people, of men. Never one to have regrets she quickly dismissed the thought and managed to find the School of Graduate Studies without too much fanfare. Once there, she inquired about a dear friend enrolled in the Civil Engineering Program. Over time, she explained to the admissions secretary, she had somehow lost contact with him but since she was now working in Atlanta, she thought she would look him up. His name, she informed the woman was Peter Townsend. For the first time since she entered the office the woman looked up from the jumble of papers that cluttered her desk.

  “Oh, do you know, Peter?” she asked smiling. “Why yes, he’s on our faculty. I believe if you hurry you just might be able to catch him. I believe he has a class in—.” Again, she rifled through the heap of papers that made up her tiny desk. “Oh, yes, here it is. Professor Townsend has a class over in the Engineering Building, Room 203.” Relieved, Sylvia thanked the secretary whose head dropped once again, lost in the jungle of paperwork before her.

  In the Engineering Building, Sylvia found the elevator and stepped in. She was glad no one else was on the elevator and immediately took out her compact. She found that she was more than a little nervous and her hands trembled slightly as she attempted to put on her lipstick. The elevator came to an abrupt stop, making her stomach even queasier than it already was and for the first time since she decided on visiting Peter the possibility of him not wanting to see her loomed large. But it was too late now. Besides, she had nothing to lose though at that very moment she truly wished she were back in front of her third graders who always made her feel at home and wanted. And she was making progress with her lesson on adjectives although poor Angela was still having some problems. Sylvia’s thoughts ended abruptly as the elevator came to an abrupt stop and the doors slowly opened.

  Her nerves on edge, she considered taking the elevator back down to the main floor and heading for her car. If she hurried, she could be back at school before lunch was over. Her kids would be tickled. Yet, she had come this far. And what was it that she was constantly telling her kids’. Nothing fails but a try. Hell, what did she have to lose? Stepping out of the elevator and making her way down the dimly-lit hall, Sylvia checked the room numbers until she came to Room 203, where a crowd of students were just getting out. Sylvia stood across the hall waiting for the crowd to thin. Her heart raced and she could feel the beads of sweat forming on her nose. Two or three students still crowded around the young professor’s desk in the front of the class when Sylvia slipped in and found a seat in the rear. He had yet to notice her and Sylvia aware of the perspiration opened her pocketbook and drew a Kleenex to wipe her nose.

  A few minutes later, the classroom empty, Professor Townsend collected the remainder of his belongings and neatly assembled them in his attaché case. Still unaware of the shapely young woman in the back of the classroom, Professor Townsend closed his briefcase.

  “Excuse me, Professor Townsend, I have a question,” Sylvia said in an attempt to get his attention.

  The neatly attired young professor’s head snapped to the back of the room so quickly, Sylvia was sure he had whiplash.

  “Oh, my God! Sylvia! What—what in heavens name are you doing here in Atlanta? Oh, my
God!” He dropped his briefcase and barreled headlong into several desks in his haste to get to Sylvia who was now quite at ease and glad she’d made the decision to come.

  Peter was ecstatic to say the least, hugging and squeezing Sylvia and forcing her to laugh out loud before regaining her composure. And to think, only a few minutes ago she’d seriously considered heading back to the car. “My goodness. You don’t know how good it is to see you, Sill. You don’t know how often you cross my mind,” he said at length.

  “I can tell from all the letters and phone calls I received,” she replied rather sarcastically.

  “Don’t go there, Sill. Don’t you dare go there. I tried calling you everyday before I left. Sometimes I’d call two or three times a day and you refused to speak to me or return any of my calls. What was I supposed to do?” he inquired, earnestly.

  “Persistence overcomes resistance,” Sylvia replied curtly.

  “How much persistence is one man supposed to have, Sill? You really hurt me. So, when I got back here I did my level best to put you out of my mind and still I think about you and our summer together quite frequently. It was probably the best summer I’ve ever had. And Lord knows I regretted leaving. Gosh it’s good to see you. C’mon let’s get out of here,” he continued.

  Turning off the lights and locking the classroom door, Peter hugged Sylvia again before leading her to the front of the building where they chatted some more about the past summer, her move to Atlanta and her third graders.

  “Where’s your car, Sill? I have a prior engagement in about an hour but if you’d like we can grab some lunch later, that is, if you’re free.”

  Sylvia wanted to tell him that she’d traveled close to three hundred miles to be with him and he’s got the nerve to ask me if I’m free. She chuckled to herself Yeah, I’m free, she thought, but once I get my hooks into you this time Professor Peter Townsend, freedom will be little more than a brief memory to you.

  “Yes, I’m free, Peter,” Sill said. “I took the afternoon off to see some of Atlanta’s more prominent landmarks,” she lied. “You know, Morehouse and Spellman. Thought I’d look up a couple of my sorority sisters who are teaching over at Spellman.”

  “And to think, I thought the sole purpose of your visit was to come and see me,” Peter teased, seeing through Sill’s attempt at being coy and aloof.

  “I hate you, Peter,” Sill said, giving Peter a shove that sent him sprawling into the side of her car.

  “How’s the car holding up? My uncle tells me you’re in every week having something done to it. That many problems, Sill?” Peter asked. He was grinning from ear to ear now.

  “You dirty dog! And he never even mentioned a word. Y’all ain’t right,” Sill said, feigning exasperation. Actually, she was relieved to know he had been checking on her.

  Still, it had been more than seven months since she’d last seen him and that was more than enough time for any man to get over someone and find someone new. And in Atlanta, where the ratio of women to men was something like three-to-one, a bright, young, handsome engineer was a prize package that was surely in demand. But she was not ready for anything but good news, today. If he’d found another woman, he would certainly let her know. Yet, from what she’d gathered from the conversation so far, she was still the only woman in his life.

  “Peter do you mind if I ask you a question,” Sill asked, speculatively.

  “Ask away, but first did I mention how stunning you look. You seem like you’re growing more beautiful each time I see you,” Peter said.

  “Peter, please! Be serious for a change. I need you to put my mind at ease. That’s really why I came here today,” she grabbed his arm and leaned over the console, which divided the seat in the car.

  “Go ahead, Sill.”

  “Peter, if I had insisted that you stay in Elizabethtown last summer, would you have stayed?” she asked, bluntly.

  “I really don’t know, Sill. I asked myself that very same question a thousand times and I’ve yet to come up with an answer. Morehouse has been good to me. I have ties here that aren’t easily broken. A lot of people have invested a lot of time to make sure that I succeed. As much as I love you, Sill, I also have to consider the time and effort they’ve invested in me as well,” he said.

  “Did you ever consider marrying me, Peter?” Sill asked.

  “No, but I considered pushing your father in No-Name Creek a couple of times and hooking up with you mother ‘cause she’s a much better cook,” Peter laughed.

  “Oh, no you didn’t! Peter Townsend, you are despicable. I don’t know why I love you.”

  As soon as she said it she wished she hadn’t. It was too late now. The cat was out of the bag. Still, Sill wondered why Peter hadn’t responded. If he told her that he loved her as well, they could have continued as if nothing had happened. Their relationship renewed, they could have started planning to build on what was already there. They loved each other. Of this, she was sure. So why couldn’t he just commit? What was it that men were so afraid of anyway? Regardless, Peter Townsend had no choice. Now that she’d found him, she’d be damned if he was going to get away again.

  In the weeks that followed, Sylvia could not believe that Atlanta could possibly have so much to offer. There were more parks and art galleries and every kind of restaurant and nightclub than she could ever have imagined. It was certainly the place to be if you were young, Black, aspiring and in love. Not that Peter had ever said that he was in love with her. His commitment or lack of was only a temporary situation, she thought. It was only a matter of time before she would have him wrapped around her little finger but for right now she was just happy to have him in her life once more.

  To her surprise, he had changed little. Still, quiet and unassuming, he was just as happy sitting at home with her as he was hitting the local clubs or bars. That was, as long as she wasn’t watching that damn Lifetime channel she had grown so fond of recently. Actually, he really didn’t seem to have a passion for anything except engineering and spending time with her.

  Every now and then, he would get caught up in some fervor of the moment and get the notion that he was a fisherman and force them to take that long-ass drive back to Elizabethtown to go fishing with her father. Mr. Shipp, tickled to death to see the two back together again after such a lengthy hiatus, would dig his fishing gear out of storage and the two men sometimes would disappear for the better part of the weekend.

  Sylvia and her mother would use this time to catch up on all the latest gossip. Either that or they’d jump in Sill’s Escort and ride to Myrtle Beach or Cross Creek Mall in Fayetteville where they’d shop ‘til they dropped. Sill hated making the long drive from Atlanta to Elizabethtown and hated the idea of sharing Peter during her weekends off but didn’t want to appear selfish so she rode along. Besides, she feared that if she chose not to go Mr. Independent would probably go anyway.

  The only positive aspect of the whole affair was that they no longer had to bounce up and down in Peter’s pickup. Upon receipt of his Masters, Peter promptly traded the Ford pickup in for a brand new Lexus. He still wasn’t making the money to afford the luxury car but purchased it under the deferred payment plan with the assumption that he would be working in his field by the time the payments hit. The only reason he wasn’t already working as an engineer in some firm and was teaching was because he was taking the place of one of the engineering professors at Morehouse who’d been diagnosed with colon cancer and was currently undergoing chemotherapy.

  And although this bothered Sylvia, she refused to let on. All Peter talked about was getting out of Atlanta and going to New York or L. A. “That’s where the money is,” he would say. He was even considering Texas. Houston or Dallas. Not once while discussing his plans did he mention or include her. Either she had to infer that she was going or he simply had no intention of taking her.

  Either way, there was no specific mention of her in his plans. Whether he knew it or not, she wouldn’t have been able to leave
anyway, even if she wanted to. When she accepted her teaching position, she signed a five-year contract, which absolved her of all of her student loans, with the agreement that she teach in a depressed area for five years. And, if she couldn’t go, then he couldn’t go. She’d come all this way to be with him and she hadn’t come all this way to be abandoned by him again.

  CHAPTER 6

  Fall soon became winter. And Peter remained steadfast in his quest to finish out the semester and to pursue his dream of being a civil engineer but he seldom mentioned it around Sill who became increasingly hostile when he talked of relocating. The last time he’d mentioned that he’d sent a résumé to Hoffman LaRoche in New Jersey she’d gone off the deep end. To this day, he didn’t know why she grew so perturbed when he mentioned leaving but if that was going to be her reaction then from now on he would keep his plans to himself

  In spite of his plans, Sill still enjoyed the time they spent together. She had never known anyone quite so thoughtful. He called her on her cell everyday without fail during her planning period at work. And, if for some reason she was having a particularly rough day, she could always expect flowers or a box of chocolates when she arrived home. When both the doctor and fireman cancelled at the last minute during the career day she planned for her students she was in tears. Twenty minutes later, Peter Townsend arrived with a nurse from the Morehouse infirmary and one of the campus cops to fill in.

  And she hardly ever cooked anymore. She didn’t have to. If he didn’t bring dinner and she refused to order out then he made her get dressed and took her out to eat. Peter introduced her to foods so foreign; she couldn’t even pronounce their names. He insisted that she try new things regularly. And when he felt she was homesick or needed to see her family, he’d arrive at six o’clock Saturday morning, pack her belongings, fix lunch and off they went. Yet, for some reason he still remained an enigma in her eyes. When he wasn’t with her she had no idea where he was. And even after being together for three and a half months in Atlanta, she had never even been to his apartment. He always claimed that he was too embarrassed to take her to his ‘hut’ as he referred to it.