Single Mom

by Omar Tyree

  I nodded. “Good question,” I said. My answer to that was simple. “I look past all of that other stuff because I am really into you. So, I guess that would be my reason. I love you as a person too much to care about everything else.”

  Denise smiled and held my hand across the table. “Well, maybe that’s the answer then. Maybe more brothers need to learn how to care more about the women they love and less about everything else that gets in the way.”

  “Hmmph,” I grunted. “That’s much easier said than done.”

  “Well, you’ve done it. And it’s paid off. So you need to go out and spread the word about it.”

  I thought about that and started to laugh again. I was thinking about Larry on the job. “You know, Larry fell for a sister who has a newborn daughter, and he asked me for some advice on it. Can you believe that?”

  I had talked to Denise about Larry a few times before.

  “So, what did you tell him?”

  “I told him to hang on in there and see what happens. And that’s what he’s been doing. So if Larry can make an about-face, then maybe that approach can work. Then again, brothers are gonna have to pick the right sisters to be into like that, because it won’t work if something crazy happens. I mean, you’re asking brothers to put an awful lot of trust in a sister.”

  “And what do you think brothers ask us to do? ‘Have some faith in me, baby. Support your man. Trust me. Look out for me. Give me what I need when I need it. Don’t give up on me, baby.’ What’s all of that about?” she asked me.

  I laughed. Denise knew brothers too well. I said, “Okay, you’ve made your point. I can’t argue with that.”

  “Trust goes both ways,” she added. “Too many brothers take us for granted, and that’s gonna have to stop. They’re going to have to get motivated and start taking us seriously, because we don’t have time to play. And more of these immature brothers need to wake up and stop complaining so much and try and take some control over their lives with a little responsibility.

  “That’s what I’m trying to teach my sons now,” she said. “My little sister, too. You get what you work for in life. But too many of us are out here looking for freebies.”

  “Amen to that,” I told her. By that point, I was stuffed. “You got any room left for ice cream? I know I sure don’t.”

  Denise smiled. “Yeah, I could eat some ice cream. What kind do you have?”

  “I have some Breyers strawberry, chocolate and vanilla, butter pecan, and coffee. And I have Klondike bars.”

  “Sounds like you have a lot,” she commented with a laugh.

  “Yeah, ice cream is my thing. I never was into cake and sweets.”

  “You could have fooled me,” Denise joked.

  “Watch out now,” I warned her. “So, what is it gonna be?”

  “Ah, give me a Klondike bar, I haven’t had one of those in a while.”

  I stood up and began putting the food away. Then I pulled out two Klondike bars from the freezer.

  “I thought you said you were too full for ice cream,” I was reminded.

  “Yeah, but not for a Klondike bar. I could eat five of them, and it wouldn’t ruffle a feather.”

  “I see. Well, maybe you need to give me three then.”

  I broke out laughing. “You’re serious?”

  “Yeah, I’m serious. I’m still hungry,” she told me with a grin.

  “For food?”

  “For whatever,” she teased.

  “Watch out now,” I warned her again. I went back to the freezer to see how many Klondike bars I had left.

  Denise said, “I don’t need three of those things. Just give me one.”

  “Are you sure? Because I don’t want you to go home thinking that I starved you.”

  “No, you didn’t starve me, you just took my plate away too early.”

  Denise was on a roll that night. I said, “You’re having a good time with this, hunh? Do you want some more spaghetti?”

  “No, I’m just teasing, Dennis. But I do want a Klondike bar,” she said with her hand out. She had her hand too low to be asking for ice cream. I started giggling like a kid who had a secret.

  “Come on, now, give it to me,” Denise insisted.

  I said, “I’ll give it to you all right.”

  We were both having some good and fresh fun.

  “I hope I won’t be hungry anymore after this,” she said.

  “Oh, you won’t be. Not after I give you this Klondike bar.” I set it in her hand gently, as if it could break.

  She smiled and said, “Are you trying to send me a subliminal message with that?”

  “Maybe I am.”

  “Well, it’s working.”

  We shared another laugh as we worked on our Klondike bars and stared at each other hungrily.

  “Would you like to dance when your food settles?” I asked her.

  She frowned. “Where, at a club or something?”

  I said, “No. I’m talking about right here on my waxed hardwood floors.”

  “Oh. I thought you were talking about going to a club or something. Because, shit, I ain’t been to a club in years. What dances are they doing now anyway?”

  “Beats me. The Butterfly was the last one that I knew about.”

  Denise looked at me and said, “Now, you know good and well we’re too old to be out there opening and closing our legs on some sweaty dance floor.”

  “Age is just a number, baby.”

  “Yeah, but stiff bones ain’t. And I haven’t used mine like that in a good while.”

  “It’s never too late,” I told her.

  “Oh, yes it is. When it comes to my body it is.”

  “You’re not out of shape,” I told her. “Your body looks damned good! And I mean that!”

  “Hmmph,” she grunted. “Don’t let these curves fool you.”

  “It’s already too late for that,” I responded.

  When we finished our chocolate-covered ice cream bars, I pulled Denise over to dance in my living room against her will.

  “Dennis, you’re gonna make me hurt something,” she whined.

  “Aww, don’t tell me that the superwoman is afraid to dance. Please, don’t tell me that,” I teased.

  “Okay, okay,” she cried, finally giving in.

  I went back over to my CD player and put in five seventies classic collections.

  “Oh my God, you done lost your mind!” she hollered at me.

  “Naw, now, the seventies had the best music! It’s Dance Fever time, Momma.”

  She laughed and said, “Okay, Daddy-O. Whatever you say.”

  Denise turned out to have more energy than I thought she would. We must have danced through two CDs. I hadn’t had that much fun in a while! But by the time we got to the third one, the slow songs just took over.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you were trying to seduce me,” Denise commented. I was beginning to kiss her neck and fiddle with her earlobes.

  “I guess you don’t know any better then, because that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

  The next thing I knew, Denise was squeezing my ass and smiling at me.

  “Now what do you call that?” I asked her.

  “I figured I’d give you some of your own medicine.”

  “We’re seducing each other now? Is that it?”

  “I guess so.

  “Love T.K.O.,” the classic from Teddy Pendergrass, came on, and Denise and I proceeded to wrestle tongues.

  I paused for a second and looked into her eyes. “I’m not letting you go,” I told her.

  She smiled and said, “Well, don’t.” Then we went back to wrestling tongues and added the squeezing of hips.

  I whispered, “Will you let me do what I want tonight?”

  “It depends on what that is.”

  “Everything you could imagine.”

  “Everything? Hmmph. Not hardly,” she doubted.

  “You have some extras moves then. Is that it?”


  “I may have a thing or two extra,” she answered with a kiss.

  “So, you’ve been holding back on me. When am I gonna get the full package?”

  Denise burst out laughing. “The full package?”

  “That’s what I said.” I slid a hand right up the side of her dress like a cobra reacting to a flute.

  “I think something’s on my thigh,” she teased. “And now it’s on my ass.”

  “Does that something feel good to you?”

  “Maybe it does.”

  “So, what are you gonna do about it?”

  She smiled. “Imagine what it’s going to do next.”

  I slid my hand inside of her panty line. “What’s it doing now?” I asked with a grin.

  “Invading my privacy.”

  I laughed. “Is that so? Are you about to call the cops for trespassing?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m about to give this trespasser the scare of a lifetime.”

  Denise reached down and grabbed my crotch.

  I said, “Oh. That seems more like the thrill of a lifetime.”

  “Not if he doesn’t know what I’m going to do with it.”

  I started to smile and back out of range. “Say what?”

  “Mmm hmm,” Denise hummed. “See how easily I can scare him?”

  “Yeah, well, you got that right,” I told her.

  Then she pulled my face to hers and kissed me with all tongue. Suddenly my ears stopped working. I could only taste, see, touch, and smell. And Denise tasted as good as she looked, felt, and smelled. It was all beautiful; two adults with the time, place, and peace of mind to fully enjoy each other’s company. We stripped each other naked right there in the middle of the living room. Then we traveled to the bedroom, hand in hand, like a contemporary Adam and Eve, giggling at our naturalness, and were ready to enjoy what the Creator had given us to share.

  Christmas Presents

  was riding the train in from work after eight in the morning on a cold day in December. I didn’t mean to, but I happened to eavesdrop on a fat black man talking to a friend about buying Christmas presents for his five kids, and for his nieces and nephews.

  “It’s that time of the year, man. So every new year in January, I start off broke. I mean, you’re looking at the real Santa Claus over here. And most of them damn toys are lost, broke, or forgotten about by summertime.”

  His tall, thin friend shook his head, pitying him. “I’d just stop doing it if I was you.”

  “I can’t. Everybody’s gotten used to it. I’ve been doing this for three years now.”

  “Yeah, well, they’d have to get unused to it if it was me,” his friend responded.

  My stop arrived, and I stood up to exit with Christmas presents on my mind. My first thought on the subject was that I would only buy things that would last for a while, or things that would definitely be used. I could thank my friend, “Mr. Real Santa Claus,” for that. I didn’t have any money to waste, and I was tired of being broke. It hadn’t been just in the month of January for me, so I had to watch my money a lot more carefully, especially since I had begun splitting the rent money and grocery bills with Kim. Not to mention all of the intangible money that I was spending on entertaining Jamal and getting his hair cut. I was spending more money on him than I did on my own son.

  Anyway, when I got back to the apartment, Kim was out taking Jamal to school. I looked around at the place and asked myself what might be a good house present to buy her. Or better yet, knowing Kim, she’d probably want a more personal item like a piece of jewelry or something. She didn’t seem to wear much of it, and that was a good thing because I wouldn’t have to think too hard about what to get her. So I planned on taking a trip to a jewelry store and pricing a few things. I didn’t know what I would buy for Jamal. Maybe I’d ask him what he wanted first and pick the things that made the most sense. I planned to spend the most on my son. He deserved it. I hadn’t been taking care of him in years. Maybe I’d buy him a nice sweatsuit and a pair of basketball shoes. The only thing was, with his school colors being green and gold, there weren’t that many pairs of basketball shoes that would coordinate. I wanted him to use my shoes in his games without his colors clashing.

  A pair of black-on-white Jordans would work, but those things cost a hundred and thirty dollars, on sale! But what the hell, I hadn’t bought my son anything worthwhile for years. If I included a nice sweatsuit, we were talking well over two hundred dollars. Then I had to think about getting my mother something. She had put up with my irresponsibility for a long time and had never stopped supporting me. I guess that’s what mothers are for. I had to buy my mother something. Then I thought about Little Jay’s brother, Walter. Could I grab him a book bag or something, just so he won’t feel left out? Then again, his father had plenty of money. Would he buy my son anything? So I changed my mind. And what about Neecy’s truck-driver friend, would he be buying anything for her sons?

  I got so wired up about the Christmas present thing that I could hardly sleep. It was weird, too, because I hadn’t been into the spirit of Christmas since I was still a kid! Besides having a job to be able to afford Christmas, I guess you really have to care about other people in your life to give a shit. Christmas was about sharing. The way the Bible tells it, God shared his only son, and then Jesus laid down his life on the cross for all of humanity. However, for many years, I had only shared bad times and bad news. So I forced myself to write a Christmas list to work from when I woke up that afternoon.

  • • •

  When I woke up after three, Kim was getting ready for work, and smiling at me.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked her.

  “Nothin’.” She was still smiling when she said it.

  I looked over at my Christmas list on the nightstand and figured it out. I said, “Kim, have you ever heard of the rules of Santa Claus?”

  “The what?” she asked me.

  “The rules of Santa Claus.”

  “No. What are they?” She started to grin.

  “Rule number one says that you should never look at Santa Claus’s list, otherwise, you don’t get shit.”

  Kim started to laugh. She knew she had been busted. “So what’s rule number two?”

  “Rule number two says that you never open your present before Christmas.”

  She was tickled by the idea. I was just making the shit up as I went along. It all made sense though.

  “And what’s rule number three?”

  “Rule number three says that you should never break your presents, lose them, or give them away. Because if you do, you don’t get any for next Christmas.”

  “So you get a one-Christmas suspension?”

  “That’s right. And another rule is that you don’t tell people what Santa’s gonna get for them. So don’t say anything to Jamal about it.” I looked over at the clock. Jamal would be getting home soon. A neighbor’s kid sometimes walked him in from school when Kim and I couldn’t pick him up. Before I came into the picture, Kim’s mother often arranged his pickup to her house. No wonder the woman didn’t have a problem with me, I was lightening her load. She still watched Jamal on occasions, so it wasn’t as if I was taking her grandchild away from her completely.

  “I know what he wants already,” Kim told me.

  As soon as she finished her sentence, there was a knock on the door.

  “That’s him right now,” I assumed. “Don’t tell me what he wants. Let me ask him,” I told his mother.

  She went out and let him in. I climbed out of bed and made a trip to the bathroom. The Christmas idea was getting me excited. Imagine that. To buy all of the things that I planned on, it would take nearly a full paycheck. Somebody must have smacked me over the head with a baseball bat.

  When I returned from the bathroom, Kim was still grinning away.

  “You didn’t do what I told you not to do, did you?” I was referring to Jamal and the Christmas list.

  “No I didn’t,” Kim sn
apped at me.

  “Good,” I told her.

  “Well, I’ll see you two later on,” she said, walking out the door.

  It was just me and Jamal again. It had been that way for a couple of months. I was actually a full-time guardian. A father every day.

  I said, “Jamal, I’m about to take a shower, and I want you to do your homework while I’m in there, because we have some runs to make today.” I planned on visiting my mother, who was off work for the day, and then buying all the presents I needed, outside of Jamal’s and his mother’s. I would get those when Jamal wasn’t with me.

  “Do you want something to eat or drink before I take my shower?” He nodded. “Yeah.”

  “All right. Come on then.” I led him into the kitchen and made him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and poured him some juice. “Now eat your sandwich, drink your juice, and do your homework,” I told him.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “You’ll find out when we get there,” I told him. Then I got out a change of underwear and a towel.

  When I finished getting ready, I went over Jamal’s homework to make sure he did everything. Once I got used to doing it, it got easier to remember. And at six years old, Jamal’s homework was a breeze.

  I nodded my head and said, “Good job. You just got one thing wrong.” I pointed out his mistake to him.

  He looked at it and said, “Oh,” before making the correction with his pencil.

  “When you take your test, you take your time, okay? Don’t rush anything. That’s when you make mistakes. And the more you rush, the more mistakes you can make.”

  I listened to myself talk and said, “Damn, that’s a lesson for life.”

  Jamal looked at me and smiled. He knew what he wasn’t supposed to say. I apologized to him anyway. His mother wasn’t the only one who slipped with the language.

  I called my mother and told her that Jamal and I were on our way. I had taken him over there a few times, so she was familiar with him. And she liked him.

  “Are you two hungry?” she asked me.

  I looked at Jamal and figured that a peanut butter and jelly sandwich wouldn’t hold him long. I already knew that I was hungry. “Yeah, we’re hungry,” I answered.