Page 86 of Tell Me I'm Not Dreaming

Suchi

I know it. I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes.

Kofi

Okay.

Twenty minutes later, Suchi gets out of her car with Ginger on her leash and sees Kofi sitting on a bench looking melancholy, and she immediately feels like shit for asking him to leave. She takes Ginger off her leash, even though she isn’t supposed to, but Kofi looks like he needs to be cheered up.

“Go to daddy, baby,” she tells her.

Ginger barks, making Kofi look up. He smiles as Ginger runs to him. He gathers her in his strong arms, and she licks his face. He puts her down, and Suchi puts her leash back on.

“Hi,” Suchi says.

“Hi,” he replies.

“I’m going to take Ginger for a walk.”

“Okay.”

They walk around the park, stopping to let Ginger poop and pee. Suchi disposes of her wastes and uses hand sanitizer. She, Ginger and Kofi stand and look at the ocean before Suchi talks.

“I’m so sorry, Kofi, but I heard your conversation with Thad … and I freaked out. I … um … I really like you, and I don’t want to get hurt again. Here I am, crying in front of you again.” Suchi looks down.

Kofi lets out a soft chuckle and lifts her head up by her chin. “And as I told you, it’s okay. I’m here to wipe your tears.”

“My friends and I speculated about what you would possibly have to tell me.”

Kofi gives her a weak smile. “Do you want to get some ice cream?”

“Sure.”

She drives to Handel’s ice cream. He parks next to her before they go to the counter and order. She gets raspberry dream, and he orders blueberry cobbler. When they take the cold treats to a nearby outdoor table, Suchi sets up Ginger’s portable water bowl and ties her leash to the table.

They eat in silence for a bit before Kofi speaks up. “Suchi, I used to be a sex worker,” he confesses.

Suchi looks at him with wide eyes.

Okay, I did not see that coming.

4

SUCHI

“Oh,” she says.

“I imagine you have questions.” Kofi eats some ice cream.

“Yeah … I … uh … my brain is … um. Give me a minute,” Suchi sputters.

“Of course.” He nods.

She takes a minute to think. The questions in her head are nonstop. They overwhelm her so much that she’s about to bust. She opens her mouth, and they all just come falling out. “Why did you become a sex worker? How do you enter that line of work? Did you have regular clients? Did you sleep with white women? Please tell me you didn’t engage in race play. Also, was it just women clients? If not, that’s fine. I just want to know. How much money did you make? Oh, my god! That’s gauche. I can’t believe I asked you that. Was it an Only Fans situation? Is there footage of you out there?—?”

“Sooch, baby, slow down,” Kofi interjects.

“Sorry, I just have so many questions. This is quite a bomb you just dropped on me, man.”