by Deidre Berry
“Count me in,” I said, unzipping Nelson’s jeans, and sliding my hand into the flap of his Calvin Klein underwear.
“Damn, your hands are so soft…” he whispered, hooking his index finger around the crotch of my thong and skillfully pulling it off in one fell swoop.
I pulled the curtains closed around the bed, and laid back wondering just how many other bare asses had been on these very same cushions. Not a pleasant thought, but I went with the flow anyway because the mood was just too sexually charged not too.
42
St. Louis is a great city, but I haven’t been there since my fifth grade class took a field trip to the arch. So I was beyond excited about going on a road trip with Nelson the next day.
The first thing I did when I got home from East, was to start packing.
As I selected the five or so outfits I planned to take, Junior showed up at my front door.
“Can you watch Trey for me tonight?” Junior asked when I opened my front door for him.
“Hell no!” flew out of my mouth before I could stop it. If there were such a thing as a demon child, I would definitely nominate Trey to be the poster boy.
Trey is three, going on thirty-three. He can rap, dance, and cuss like nobody’s business, yet he still can’t manage to get that whole potty training thing together. The last time I was graced with Trey’s presence, he pulled down his pants, tore his diaper off, and took a shit right in the middle of my kitchen floor. On top of that, I still have some of his artwork on my walls, which he created with my brand new tube of M. A. C. lipstick.
“You still haven’t repaid me for having to get my carpet cleaned after his last visit,” I reminded Junior.
“Don’t even worry about that, Tori. You know I got you.”
“No, I don’t know that,” I said.
“Look, I’ma pay you back as soon as I get my income tax check,” he said, hitting me with his usual delay tactic.
I sighed. It would have been much easier to stick to my guns if Trey weren’t asleep on Junior’s shoulder, looking so sweet and angelic.
Besides, it was not as if I had much else to do, anyway.
Nelson was working to meet a deadline before we leave tomorrow morning on our road trip, and the only plans I had were doing laundry, packing a suitcase, and reorganizing the shoes in my closet.
“Well, I am impressed with how hard you’ve been working for me lately, so I guess I can help you out,” I said. “Has Trey eaten already?”
“Yeah, he just had some Burger King,” Junior said.
“Just make sure you’re back by seven tomorrow morning, Junior, because Nelson and I are leaving for St. Louis at eight o’clock.”
“I’ll be back way before that,” Junior said, laying Trey on the couch and handing me his Transformers backpack.
Trey woke up the second Junior walked out the door.
I was sitting next to him on the couch, and my heart melted when he curled up in my lap, and gave me a big kiss.
“Tay sank you,” he said, looking up at me with those big brown eyes.
Trey currently has his C’s and S’s mixed up with his T’s so what he actually meant was “Say thank you.”
“Sank me Auntie Cori. Sank me!”
“Thank you for the kiss, Trey.”
“You welcome,” he smiled, and then wiped his snotty nose with the back of his hand.
It was a beautiful Hallmark moment, and I was so thrilled that Trey had obviously learned something from one of the books I had bought him for his birthday.
However, the memory of that moment was shattered fifteen minutes later when Trey suddenly frowned at me and shouted:
“Gimme a tookie!”
Now, as I have said before, Tori loves the kids. But that precocious smart-mouth stuff that everybody thinks is so cute nowadays does not work with Tori. I don’t mind kids, so long as they mind me.
“Gimme a tookie!” Trey demanded again, this time with the attitude of a grown-ass man.
I’m old school when it comes to dealing with kids, but I don’t subscribe to the Bernie Mac philosophy of hitting kids in the stomach or the throat, so I tried a little tenderness instead.
“Gimme” is not a nice way to ask someone for what you want,” I said sternly. “Say, ‘May I have a cookie, please?’”
“Nay I hab a tookie, peas?” he repeated, barely above a whisper.
The diction was still far from perfect, but I could not help but smile at his sincere effort. I set Trey up at the kitchen table with a glass of chocolate milk and two Mrs. Fields chocolate chip cookies.
“Sank you,” he said, and then accidentally spilled his glass of chocolate milk on my freshly waxed hardwood floor.
No good deed goes unpunished. The next morning, seven o’clock came and went with no word from Junior, forcing Nelson to have to leave for St. Louis without me.
Livid is not even a strong enough word for the way I felt about being taken advantage of by my brother yet again—just when I thought he was on the road to getting his shit together.
And the worst part of it was, I was literally stuck with Trey. I couldn’t get in touch with his mother, Ashley, and my parents were on day four of the ten-day Caribbean cruise I had given Daddy for his birthday. Cookie, Aunt Vera, and everyone else I attempted to drop Trey off with, just flat out said “No!” which is what I should have done in the first place.
I was so upset with Junior that I was in tears when Nelson had come over to get me so that we could head out on the road trip.
“Oh Tori, don’t cry,” Nelson said, pulling me into a comforting hug. “This is not a big deal, okay?”
“But I was looking forward to spending that time with you,” I sobbed.
“I know, but listen, this is what we’re going to do,” he said. “As soon as I get back, we are going to sit down and plan a trip to New York. We’ll take an eating tour of the city, check out The Color Purple on Broadway—the whole nine. All right?”
I nodded and blew my nose, because a trip to New York is one helluva consolation prize.
It wasn’t until way late in the evening that Junior finally came to pick up his child.
“Ah Tori, I’m sorry. My cell phone went dead—”
“Stop! I don’t even want to hear it,” I said.
I handed Trey’s Transformers backpack to Junior, gave my nephew hugs and kisses, and had not one word for Junior as I closed the door behind his unreliable ass.
I had been cooped up in the house with a three-year-old for a full twenty-four hours, and I definitely needed to get out and socialize with some grown folks.
It was just going to be me and the newly single Simone hitting the town tonight, because Yvette was all caught up in her new relationship with Daniel, and Nadia flew to Miami last Tuesday to get her boobs done at a steep discount rate.
I had just gotten out of the shower, still dripping wet, when I heard knocking at my front door. I threw on my terry cloth bathrobe and ran to answer the door for who I assumed was Simone. Instead, I was face-to-face with Roland.
“Daddy’s home!” he said, his breath reeking of alcohol. “And it looks like I’m just in time.”
I suddenly felt dirty and in need of another shower, as his eyes roamed lustfully all over my body.
“Just what the hell are you doing here?” I asked, tying the belt to my robe even tighter.
Roland stooped down in my face and said, “We need to talk,” then walked in without being invited.
“Okay, first of all, your breath stinks,” I said. “And second, you left me at the altar in favor of your baby mama, who you were masquerading as your “friend” for all these years. What else do we need to discuss?”
“I fucked up,” he belched. “I want you back, Tori.”
I burst out laughing, because that was like the funniest shit I had heard in a long time. “You want me back?”
“Yes! I must have been temporarily insane when I made the decision to leave you for that ho-ass Veronica
,” Roland slurred. “I want you back, baby. So bad that it hurts.”
“And you know what, Roland? People in hell want air conditioning, but it ain’t happening, baby. So bounce!”
“Naw, this is my home, too,” he said, making himself comfortable on the couch. “This is where my heart really is. I can’t leave here. Not again.”
“Oh, the hell you say! You’re getting your ass up out of here, right now!”
“Nope, can’t do it…” he said in a low, sleepy voice.
There was another knock at the door. This time it was Simone. “You ain’t hardly ready,” she said, looking me up and down.
“I know, I got interrupted,” I said. “Girl, you have to come see what the cat done drug back up in here.”
“Oh no, this Negro didn’t!” Simone said when she saw Roland, who was now passed out on the couch, snoring.
“Girl, that’s what I said. He showed up here a few minutes ago, drunk out of his mind.”
“Phew!” Simone said, covering her nose. “What the hell has he been drinking? Gasoline?”
“He must have been drinking some liquid crack if he thinks I’m getting back together with him.”
“Un-unh!” said Simone.
“Ain’t that one helluva nerve?” I asked. “Now please help me get his stanking ass up, and out of my house.”
I slapped Roland hard across the face a few times, and even tried to rouse him by throwing cold water in his face. None of it worked. That fool was passed out so cold, it was almost like he was dead.
“Call Junior,” Simone suggested. “He’s big and strong enough to get him out of here.”
“No, they can’t be within fifty feet of each other because of the restraining order,” I said.
“Well, go on and get dressed,” Simone said. “You can spend the night at my place, and with any luck, Roland’s ass will be sober and gone in the morning when you get back.”
43
I walked back into my condo the next morning and was relieved to see that Roland was no longer on my couch. However, it felt like I was in a bad dream when I heard cheerful whistling coming from my bathroom. I was debating whether to investigate or go running and screaming from my condo, when Roland opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the living room. He was butt-naked, with his sausage swinging every which-a-way.
“Why are you still here?” I asked through clenched teeth.
“Waiting for you, my love,” he said, trying to hug me.
“Get out!” I said, spinning out of his grasp. “You have about two minutes before I call the police.”
“Now why is all that necessary?” Roland asked. “After everything we’ve been through together, and this is how you treat me?”
“Hah! That’s fucking rich. Look, this might be hard for your ego to take, Roland, but I got over you months ago. So whatever happened between you and Veronica, I suggest you go work it out because you have nothing coming over here. I got a new man now. A real man.”
“Oh, so that’s what’s up with all the condoms and sex toys in the nightstand?”
“Yep!” I said. “And he’s hitting it better than it’s been hit in years.”
“Wow, Tori!” he said with a look of disgust. “You’re just all out there, huh? First my man Gary sees you at Pierpont’s with some old crazy dude, and now you’re screwing the neighbor?”
How in the hell did he know about Nelson and me? I put my poker face on and held my cards close to my chest. “And what neighbor is that?” I asked. “There are quite a few single guys in this building.”
Roland looked taken aback. “Damn!” he said. “Just how many of the neighbors are you kicking it with?”
“All of them!” I said. “Now will you please get the hell out of my face?”
“You know, I got sentimental last night and felt bad about how I did you,” he said. “And in that state of mind, I really thought I wanted to re-declare my love for you, but now—”
“Oh, shut the fuck up!” I exploded. “Please do not flatter yourself into thinking you have the power to make that decision, because I wouldn’t take you back if Bill Gates paid me to do it.”
“Okay…Okay…” Roland said. “Just answer one question for me, and I’ll go. Is Nelson from across the hall supposed to be your man?”
“What gives you that idea?” I asked.
“Because he came over this morning, and we had a little man-to-man talk.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said, starting to see red.
“Go ask him. He said he cut some trip short and wanted to let you know he was back.”
“And what else did you two talk about?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“You, me, and he.” He sang the melody to the Mtume classic, and then laughed. “Remember that song?”
“Fuck you, and that song,” I said bitterly. “What did you say to Nelson?”
“That’s between me and him, but let’s just say that if he was your man, I don’t think he is anymore.”
I felt a rage coming on. With my blood boiling, I grabbed my trusty baseball bat out of the hall closet and started swinging at Roland. His butt-naked behind ran wildly around the condo trying to avoid being hit. I managed to whack him across the shoulder with the bat, and he started screaming like a terrified little bitch.
“Cut that shit out, Tori!” he shrieked. “Have you lost your fucking mind? You could seriously hurt me with that thing.”
“And that’s exactly my intention,” I said, throwing Roland’s clothes and shoes out in the hallway.
“You’re fucking crazy!” were the last words he said to me as I forced him out the front door by bat point, wishing it were a gun instead.
“And don’t you dare bring your black ass around here anymore!” I yelled at Roland through the door.
I watched through the peephole as the man I used to love scrambled to get dressed, all the while mumbling that I was a psycho bitch.
When I was sure Roland was gone, I ran across the hall and pounded on Nelson’s door for about ten minutes straight. I just wanted to see him. Just needed to talk to him so badly that I didn’t care what it must have looked like to the neighbors, who were, one-by one, opening their doors to see what all the ruckus was about. Ignoring their snickers and pitying looks, I kept pounding on that door for I don’t know how long. And I knew damn well he was in there, because I used the key he had given me and the safety chain was against the door.
After about forty-five minutes, Nelson finally opened the door. He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, and did not invite me in.
“What’s up?” he asked, his tone dry and disinterested.
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you, that’s what’s up. Didn’t you get any of my messages?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t even checked my machine.”
“That’s a lame, boldfaced lie and you know it.”
“Either way, what difference does it make?”
“Nelson, don’t do this. I know that on the outside looking in, it looks pretty bad. But Roland being over at my place is actually a lot more innocent than it looks.”
“Is it really?” he asked. “A man you were with for years answers your door with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and you call that innocent?”
“Nothing sexual happened between us, Nelson. I didn’t even spend the night there—”
“So how did he get in?”
“I assumed it was Simone, and I opened the door without checking to make sure,” I explained.
“So that means you let him in, right?”
“Technically speaking, yes I did. But I was trying to get him to leave the second he walked through the door.”
Nelson sighed. “Regardless of what you obviously think, I’m not stupid. Plus what am I supposed to believe when that man tells me you two still love each other, and are working on getting back together?”
“You’re supposed to believe me,” I said softly.
&nb
sp; “I want to, Tori, but I just can’t,” he said sadly. “If I were a little less intelligent then I probably would believe your story, but frankly, it sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me.”
“So what are you saying, Nelson?” I asked, but I already knew the answer.
“I think we need to chill, and give each other some space.”
“Fine,” I said, my voice trembling. “If you want to talk to me, then you know my number and you definitely know where I live.”
Nelson nodded, and stepped back inside his condo. I quickly turned my back to him, refusing to give him the opportunity to close the door in my face. Or to see the tears that were streaming down my face.
He who finds diamonds must grapple in the mud and mire because diamonds are not found in polished stones. They are made.
—Henry B. Wilson
SUNDAY
I can’t believe this is happening. Not only did Roland ruin our relationship, but he also came back and ruined the budding relationship I had with Nelson—a relationship that I was truly starting to treasure.
Bastard.
Simone was right. I didn’t have any business out there dating so soon after breaking up with Roland in the first place. The second relationship in less than a year to go down in flames, and the common denominator is me.
This time, I really am moving. There is no way I can stay around here, now. Too much tension to have to deal with every day.
44
“I can’t believe you’re gonna let some man run you up out of here,” Yvette said, while helping me pack. “We’ve had some good damn times in this condo.”
We were in the living room, carefully wrapping my African statues and other fragile decorations in newspaper, while waiting for the moving company to show up.
Simone was working, as usual, and Nadia was still in Miami, so it was just the two of us.
“It’s my own fault,” I said. “Like Simone said, I let my hormones overrule common sense, and this is the end result of it.”
Yvette sighed and said, “Yeah, well, I guess you gotta do what you gotta do.”