If It Isn't Love

by Dwayne S. Joseph

  Karen, who heard the word bitch and surmised that Negra could only mean one thing, got out of the car. “Look,” she said, determined to keep her cool more for the baby’s sake than anything, “why don’t you just let us go and keep your son from having to witness this spectacle.”

  “Excuse me?” Mariah said, her tone bitter. “But this is none of your fucking business.”

  Karen clenched her jaws. “Listen, we don’t know each other, so there’s no need for you and me to argue. Besides, I don’t think you really want your neighbors to hear and see all of this.”

  Mariah slit her eyes and stiffened her neck. “No me importa que tu piensas! No me hablas de mi hijo. Puta negra!”

  As much as she tried not to, Karen reached her boiling point. “Okay ... You’ve used that word one too many times.” She stepped forward intending on doing some damage, but luckily for Mariah, Alex stepped in front of her.

  “Karen, can you take Miguel and put him in his car seat for me, please?” he asked locking his eyes with hers.

  Karen looked at Mariah, then at Alex. “If you weren’t the one,” she said, kissing him for Mariah to see. Then she took Miguel, who smiled and cooed. As she buckled him into the seat, she smiled as Alex went off in Spanish to Mariah. Mariah then stormed into her house and slammed the door behind her. When Alex got in the car, he shook his head.

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  Karen hmph’d. “Don’t be sorry. Just be glad you stepped in when you did.”

  Alex laughed. “Did you really mean what you said about me being the one?”

  Karen gave a devilish smile, licked her lips, and leaned towards him. “I meant it.”

  And she had.

  Alex was her man, her soulmate. Too bad her mother couldn’t understand that. When she first told her mother of her engagement to Alex, her mother didn’t speak.

  After a few minutes, her mother said, “I didn’t raise you to be with someone outside of your race, chile.”

  “But Mama, this is love. This is bigger than race.”

  “Not to me it isn’t. Not to my own mama who was killed by little White devils. Not to my daddy who was beaten by the Klan!”

  “Alex isn’t white, Mama.”

  “Chile, his skin is light and his hair ain’t like your daddy’s. He’s closer to them than we are.”

  “You haven’t even met him yet.”

  “And I don’t want to. Black is what you are, and black is where you belong. Chile, when your daddy finds out—”

  “I don’t give a damn what he thinks. His feelings are the last ones I’m concerned with. I can’t believe after all he’s done, you still care about what he feels.”

  “He is my husband and your daddy! I’m tired of tellin’ you and your sister to respect that. And don’t you ever use such language with me again. I am your mama and I will still whup your behind. Now I’m sorry that you dislike the fact that I don’t approve of your future husband, but that’s just the way it is.”

  Karen sighed and fought the tears that welled in her eyes. She may not have agreed with the things her mother did, but she was still her mother regardless and she wanted her to be happy for her.

  Karen and Alex had a small wedding consisting of a few close friends and family. Jeff and a few cousins came, and Monica was the maid of honor. Her parents never came.

  Despite the absence of her parents, Karen was still happy. Alex became her husband, and that’s all that mattered. Karen’s parents didn’t meet Alex until two years after they were married. Her father had a special sermon to give in a church in downtown Baltimore, and had it not been for that, Karen doubted the meeting would have ever occurred.

  Karen leaned over and kissed Alex gently on his forehead. He never stirred. She was anxious to break the news about the pregnancy to him. She’d been looking forward to sharing the experience with him and his family, whom she’d grown very close to. Although she was never in competition with her, Mariah would no longer be able to say that she had something of Alex’s that she didn’t.

  Karen rose from the bed and was on her way to the bathroom when the phone rang. She hurried to pick it up before it could wake Alex. “Hello?” she said softly.

  “Good morning, chile.”

  Karen raised an eyebrow. “Mama?”

  “Why you sound so surprised to hear from me? I ain’t dead yet.”

  “It’s ... it’s been a while, Mama.”

  “More your fault than mine, chile,” her mother said. “Anyway ... how is Alex?”

  Karen didn’t answer right away as shock came over her. She’d asked about Alex? “He’s fine,” she said finally.

  “Is he awake?”

  “N ... no.”

  “Well tell him I said hello when he wakes up.”

  “I will,” Karen said. She didn’t know what to make of her mother’s pleasantries toward Alex. “Is everything okay, Mama?”

  “Everything is fine, chile.”

  “OK.”

  “You have a minute, or are you as busy as your sister?”

  “I’m actually getting ready to get dressed. I have a hair appointment that I need to get to.”

  “You and your sister ... I’ll make this quick then. My birthday is next month and I’m going to cook a birthday dinner to celebrate. I want you and Alex to be there.”

  “Huh?” Karen said shocked.

  “I said—”

  “I heard what you said, Mama. I’m just having trouble with what you said.”

  “I’m cooking dinner for my birthday and I want you and Alex there. What is it you’re having trouble with?”

  “You want Alex there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Mama?”

  “I told you I’m fine. Now ... are you two comin’ or not?”

  “Y ... yes. Of course we’ll come.”

  “Good. You need the address?”

  “Of course not, Mama.”

  “Just checking, seeing as how you and your sister seem to have forgotten all about us over here.”

  “We haven’t forgotten you guys, Mama. We’re just both busy.”

  “Too busy to call your mama for four months?”

  “Mama ...”

  “Go and run to your hair appointment, chile. We’ll speak when you come for dinner.”

  Karen sighed. “Okay, Mama. It ... it was good to hear from you.”

  “It was good to talk to you, baby. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Mama.”

  Karen hung up the phone and didn’t move for a few seconds. She was in shock. Her mother wanted to celebrate her birthday and she wanted Alex there. This had been the first time she’d ever used Alex’s name in a positive manner. She’d said that she was fine, but Karen had trouble accepting that.

  What was behind the dinner?

  4

  Alex turned on the stereo and put in his new Grupo Niche CD. He couldn’t carry a tune to save his life, but he sang right along with the song regardless and proceeded to make up the bed. This was something he had learned to do since marrying Karen three years ago. He remembered the first time she fussed over the bed not being made. They’d just moved in together, after deciding to do the let-me-see-if-I-can-live-with-you-and-accept-your-nasty- habits-before-I-marry-you trial run. After a morning bout of lovemaking, Karen showered and left for work, leaving Alex completely spent in the bed. A network operations manager, he was working the third shift again that week, and didn’t have to be in until 7:00 P.M. Although she had one of the highest rated talk shows in the DC, Baltimore area, Karen’s Ladies Holla show hadn’t soared to great heights yet. So while she hustled to make the show a success, Alex slept and dreamt, waking up for only a few hours to eat and watch Karen’s live show before going back to dreamland.

  By the time he woke up, it was five o’clock and time for him to get up and get ready for his forty-five minute commute to work. Karen, who always spent hours going over the pros and cons of the day’s productio
n, and then prepared for the next day’s taping, never got home until after Alex had long gone.

  When Alex finally left, he’d made the near-fatal mistake of not making up the bed. He never heard the end of it when he got home. One of Karen’s pet peeves was a messy bed. She believed in her mother’s old philosophy that a messy bed made for a messy life. She couldn’t stand seeing rumpled sheets, and she always made sure to make the bed before she left for work. When Alex walked into the bedroom after a frustrating night of work, Karen didn’t hesitate to tell him how inconsiderate he’d been by “sleeping all damn day and not making up the bed.”

  Had she taken things too far?

  Of course she had.

  Alex, as tired as he was, laughed at her tirade. Karen, of course, didn’t find it as amusing as he had, and when he mocked her, it only added fuel to her fire.

  Alex chuckled to himself as he fluffed the pillows. That first, and only night of complaints over the bed, had been a memorable one in more ways than one because right after Karen finished nagging, they made love as though it were going to be their last time. Arguments and sex always made for an exciting morning of passion.

  After smoothing out the sheets, Alex moved to the bathroom to brush his teeth, shower, and shave. He’d taken the Saturday off because he’d promised Miguel he would take him to the park to play basketball. With seven years of age behind him, Miguel was the spitting image of Alex, in both attitude and look. He had the same intense light green eyes, the same bubble nose, and full lips, and along with those lady-killer looks, Miguel also had Alex’s stubborn attitude. He was also a competitor like his father. Playing basketball that day had been Miguel’s decision because he wanted desperately to beat his father.

  While Alex scrubbed away plaque and morning funk, he smiled. His son’s tenacity always made him proud. Miguel’s determination made Alex think of his days as a young son unable to beat his father in basketball. No matter how hard he tried, sweated and hustled, Alex’s father never gave him the pleasure of tasting anything but the sour taste of defeat. Alex was eighteen when he finally won a game of thirty-three. The moment the ball sighed through the net, he knew that the victory had been his father’s way of saying welcome to manhood. Alex hopped into the shower. Miguel had a long way to go before becoming a man.

  He was glad that the only trait Miguel had gotten from his mother had been curly hair. Although he cherished his son, and didn’t regret for a second the day he was born, he wouldn’t have minded if he had come from some other woman’s womb.

  Mariah Ortiz.

  Miguel’s mother.

  Alex’s nightmare.

  He was twenty-three and working as a manager in The Wall music store when Mariah walked into his life, bringing with her a route that he would never be able to turn away from. With a Jennifer Lopez body, long curly brown hair that looked permanently wet, and feline eyes that could hypnotize a priest into committing sin, Alex had damn near exploded in his khakis when she walked into the store requesting an application for employment. Mariah was all Latina, and Alex didn’t hesitate to hire her on the spot.

  Ignoring the company’s strict policy forbidding the dating of employees, Alex pursued Mariah for two months before finally getting her to agree to go out with him. It would only take that one date for his life to forever be changed. So caught up by her body and innocent smile, Alex did the one thing he swore he would never do—had unprotected sex. In the back of his father’s Chevrolet Cavalier no less!

  Four weeks later, Mariah came to him and told him she’d just failed a pregnancy test.

  When Mariah initially dropped the news on him, he had been speechless. He wanted to be angry with her, but he knew that the only person he could have truly been angry with was himself. He let the wrong head do the thinking for him, and he’d paid the price. He wasn’t ready to be a father, but what could he do?

  Although he never suggested it, Mariah let him know very quickly that she wasn’t going to have an abortion, which was fine with him, because that was something that neither he nor his family believed in. His mother and father always raised him to face any and all responsibilities head on.

  “You reap what you sow,” his father would tell him and his three older brothers. “Life is a game, and if you’re going to play, you better be ready to deal with whatever pops up.”

  So that’s exactly what Alex did.

  He grew up and dealt with having to be a father. Life was no longer just his own to toy with. He had a baby on the way, and the baby’s mother, he quickly realized, he could not stand.

  Look up the word bitch in the dictionary, and Mariah’s picture is what you’d find—at least that’s how Alex felt.

  The only thing she and Alex had in common was the sex, which produced Miguel. Other than that, they were at the opposite ends of the personality spectrum. Although Alex had his rough side, he was for the most part a gentle and sensitive man. He didn’t mind doing for others and getting nothing in return. Alex had been taught the value of generosity and selflessness from his parents. He was raised with a belief in Christ, and that through Him all things were possible. His mother, who had won the Miss Puerto Rico pageant when she was younger, never let Alex, or his brothers, Carlos, Julio, and Marco, skip church on Sundays. Getting Alex’s father to go had been impossible, and so she didn’t try. It’s not that he didn’t believe in God, or have faith. He simply had too much soccer to watch on Sundays.

  Alex’s father was a stern disciplinarian. School came before anything else. He was determined to have his sons succeed and take advantage of the opportunities he never had. That’s why he moved them from Puerto Rico to Maryland. Although he was rough and overly demanding at times, his strict ways paid off. All four sons went to college. Alex entered the telecommunication field, Marco became an accountant, the oldest, Carlos, became a pediatrician, and Julio started his own record production company.

  Alex loved both his mother and father equally, and after watching them for all of his twenty-three years, he hoped to be as lucky as they were some day. For Alex, taking on the responsibility of a child was a joy to be cherished.

  For Mariah, however, it was the complete opposite. Mariah wasn’t raised with the same type of love Alex was. Although born in Puerto Rico, her mother, Lyda, became a child of the streets of New York at an early age. After giving birth to Mariah at age fifteen, those very same streets became Mariah’s surrogate parents. She never knew her father, and her mother had been too irresponsible and immature to make her daughter her number one priority. So, Mariah learned all about life and how to survive it from what she witnessed and experienced day after day in the Bronx.

  She grew up hard and grew up fast. By the age of ten she was routinely getting drunk and high. By twelve, sex was as common to her as taking a bath. When she was fourteen she had her first child, Christina, a secret that very few people knew about. Because both she and her mother, who by that time had devoted her life to crack, were financially unable to care for the baby, Mariah’s aunt, Lyda’s sister, who had been visiting from Puerto Rico, took Christina back with her to raise the innocent child as her own. Mariah never protested, because she hadn’t wanted the responsibility anyway, and her mother had been too high to care that she wouldn’t see her granddaughter.

  After Christina’s birth, Mariah got on birth control and was fine until her mother died of an overdose a couple of months before Mariah’s sixteenth birthday. Mariah never shed a tear. With no parent, she hustled on the streets and prostituted herself for money, food, and clothing. It was during this time she ran into one of her mother’s ex-boyfriends, Omar. Back in the day, Omar, who used to get high with Lyda, had been the closest thing to a father that Mariah had ever known. He dated Lyda for almost two years and was the only man who tried to get her to quit drugs, but it didn’t work. And after she cursed him out and let him know that he was no longer needed, Omar left New York to live with his brother in Baltimore. There he got himself cleaned up, got a job, and eventually
a wife. Despite being constantly strung out, Omar had loved Lyda and cared for Mariah, and regarded her as his adoptive daughter of sorts. So after finding out about Lyda’s death, he traveled back to New York to find out what happened to the little girl he had never forgotten. It was on the street where he found her. Mariah, dirty, skinny, and starving, didn’t recognize Omar, and approached him, offering to give him a blow job in exchange for money. Without fail, and because she had been too weak to resist, Omar took Mariah back with him to Baltimore.

  She lived there with him and his wife, a White woman with Mrs. Brady’s personality, and attended high school. Because she had never been forced to take school seriously, Mariah managed to get her high school diploma, but had no plans for college. Omar, knowing how rough her life had been, allowed her to follow her own path. All he demanded was that if she didn’t go to school, then she would work and help pay the phone and electric bills. So with limited skills, she went to the mall to find a job.

  She met Alex when she was nineteen, and she didn’t intentionally set out to get pregnant—it just happened. Mariah never really liked Alex; she just found him cute. Plus he drove a nice car. She went out with him because he had given her a job when no one else would. Having sex was just routine. Although, Omar had taken her from the streets and given her a better life, the streets never left Mariah, and just as she did in the past, she used sex to get her what she wanted. She wanted a raise—sex would get her that. So she fucked Alex. And that’s all it was—a fuck. He wasn’t supposed to stay inside of her. All of the guys she’d slept with, who’d gone bareback, had been smart enough to pull out before their explosion.

  But not Alex.

  He came, and came hard. And her life was forever changed.

  Mariah loved her son, but just couldn’t get past the feeling that his existence was a burden to her. Omar and his wife were great in the beginning, but once he got past the terrible two phase, they made sure that Mariah understood Miguel was her responsibility. She knew that her son was a beautiful and special gift from God, but no matter how hard she tried not to let it bother her, she couldn’t stand the fact that the older he got, the more he acted like his father. And she couldn’t stand Alex. Had Miguel never entered into the equation, that brief moment of sex would have been the only thing they ever would have shared. Now they were linked for life.