My Sister’s Ex: A Novel

by Cydney Rax

  “And you’re going to get hurt.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Huh, girl, quit playing. Let’s finish taking the shower. I gotta wash your back.”

  “No, finish what you were saying. What do you mean I’m going to get hurt, Jeff?”

  “You are going to get electrocuted, too, that’s what I meant.”

  “Lame.”

  “Okay, please get back in the shower. I’m putting my cell phone down, see me?” He places it on the counter and steps back in the shower.

  “Come on, Beautiful Girl,” he sings.

  I try to let the cell phone issue go and get back in the shower. He lathers the soap, and I have fun letting him squeeze my breasts and rub the wash cloth between my legs. We end up French kissing so long that the water turns lukewarm. As soon as we’re done showering, drying off, and getting dressed, he tells me he’ll call later, that he has to go. I am disappointed but ask him to drive safe.

  As soon as Jeff leaves, and I shut the door behind him, Rachel quickly emerges from her bedroom.

  “I heard y’all in there getting freaky,” she says, cutting to the chase.

  “Okay, what about it?”

  “Marlene, there’s something you need to know about Jeff.”

  — 15 —

  RACHEL

  Sampling the Same Goods

  I am standing in front of Marlene acting as serious as I’ve ever been. But she looks distracted. She winces when she attempts to walk to the couch.

  “Why are you walking like that?”

  “My ankle hurts. It’ll be okay. I just need to sit down.”

  I wait until she’s seated, then I sit next to her. “Like I was saying before, you need to slow your roll with this man.”

  “Rachel, can you do me a huge favor, please?”

  Before I can answer, I hear loud, consistent knocks on the front door. “Damn, who the hell is it?” I rush and fling open the door.

  Alita and London storm in. Alita takes one look at Marlene. “Hey, Marlene, how are you doing?”

  “Not too good. Can y’all make yourselves useful? Please go to the pharmacy and pick up something for swelling. I’m sure my injury will be fine in a day or so, but it really hurts right now.”

  Alita sits down and gingerly brushes her finger across Marlene’s skin, carefully inspecting it. “Oh, wow, yeah, Rachel. Let’s go to CVS, get her something. Plus, I want to ask you something. Get your purse. Hell, forget the purse. I’ll pay for the medicine.”

  “Aren’t you an angel?” I say.

  “Bump that, you’re paying me back soon as we get back.”

  “I knew it was too good to be true.”

  “A lot of things are too good to be true,” she replies, but that’s another story. “Okay, Marlene. We’re going to the store and we’ll hook you up.”

  “Thanks,” Marlene says. We follow behind London, who holds open the door for us. Alita grabs my hand and forces me out of the house. I feel so naked. No purse. No cell phone.

  “Jesus, why are you rushing me? I was trying to warn Marlene—”

  “No, fool. That’s the last thing you should do. I told you on the phone to keep this on the DL. You gotta make sure Jeff takes the bait before you go squealing on a brotha. You need some proof. She’s not going to take you at your word.”

  “But the picture—”

  “No, girl, forget all that.” We jump in Alita’s ride, and she’s driving and talking like a chatterbox. “Do what I tell you. Chill with the warnings. Get him to talk to London on the phone. Let her get some info from him. We need more info. Got it?”

  “I guess.”

  “We need to see how many lies the bastard has been telling. Ohhh, I am so pissed I could go off on somebody.”

  “As long as it’s not me. Damn, Alita. Okay, I’ll go along with your little plan.”

  We arrive at CVS. Alita plants a twenty-dollar bill in my hand. I start walking up and down the aisles searching the shelves for some healing ointment.

  “Has Jeff answered your e-mails yet?” London asks, swinging her fists and boxing the air. “Girl, I want to get it popping.”

  “You two are funny. But no, he’s been too busy sexing up my sister.”

  “Eww, that’s plain ole nasty,” Alita says. “He must really think he has a lot of game. I can’t believe your rejection of Jeff has turned him into such a—”

  “Don’t say it,” I say cutting her off. “What really trips me out is how I indicated what characteristics I want in a man on the dating site. And my ideal man turns out to be my ex. What the hell is wrong with me?”

  Alita starts cracking up and holding her belly.

  “Hardly Berry you’re one to laugh. Don’t forget it took the real Halle Berry to go through a ton of bad relationships before she hooked up with her dream guy.”

  “A white man at that,” London says.

  “No, a Canadian,” Alita corrects her. “A much younger, much richer, savvier dream man. I’m glad for her.”

  “But you feel sorry for me, huh?” I read the labels and details of several ointments and end up picking a fast-healing cream that costs about fifteen bucks. “Got it. I’m ready.”

  We walk to the cashier line of the pharmacy area. We’re the only customers. I spot one pharmacist in the back doing whatever pharmacists do. And this other female Asian pharmacist is too busy filling a prescription to acknowledge me.

  I clear my throat. The Asian lady looks up but keeps working.

  “Let’s give her a couple minutes.”

  We begin casually browsing the counter, which has a small display of tabloids. Star magazine, National Enquirer. I thumb through a story about Jennifer Aniston’s latest breakup but get bored after two paragraphs. I couldn’t care less about Jen’s problems. All I want to do is purchase the medicine and go home.

  To fill time, Alita strikes up a conversation about how she beat Big Hen at some video game. I halfway listen to my friend rambling; the other half of me can’t stop gawking at a tall, middle-aged white man with dark brown hair who swiftly walks over and stands in front of the counter right next to us. He’s dressed in a classic black dress suit, crisp white shirt, and plain red tie. Within seconds the Asian lady stops what she’s doing and approaches the cash register. “How are you today, sir? May I help you?” she says, her eyes making direct contact with the man.

  “Hold on,” I mutter softly, not believing my eyes. “Can you believe what she just did?” I ask Alita, talking a little louder.

  “Yep, I can, we’re used to it. Obama or no Obama, some things won’t ever change.” Alita shakes her head back and forth like she wants to explode with frustration. I want to blow up, too. But this is a battle that I don’t want to engage in just now. Too many other issues deserve my attention.

  We quietly wait until the Asian lady provides the white man quick, efficient, and super-friendly customer service. As soon as he happily leaves with his CVS bag in his hand, the lady acts like she doesn’t even want to say hello to us. She continues scribbling notes on a notepad, making me feel invisible and unwanted.

  “I can’t believe this shit,” I say to Alita. “I feel like asking for the manager. Get her rude ass written up.”

  “She’s not worth it,” London says. “Just pay for your stuff and go. Or you can go to the front cash register and pay.”

  “No, those lines are always way too long, but I guess I can do that next time.”

  The girls and I tap our feet, loudly sighing and glancing at our watches. Finally the Asian lady asks, “May I help you with something?”

  “Are your eyes working okay, lady?” I ask, not able to hide my annoyance. London lightly shoves me in the ribs. The lady frowns as if I have vomited on her fingers, but she goes ahead and rings up my order. When she hands me my change, she places the change on top of the receipt on top of my hand, as if she doesn’t want her skin to touch mine.

  I storm away from the counter. “I swear I’m never coming to this
store again. That lady is a minority like me. Who is she trying to fool? I don’t care if she gives herself an American name—”

  “Rachel, chill. Who cares about her? It’s over and done. You need to focus on what you’re going to do about your scandalous ex. That’s the real world.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” I say to Alita, trying to calm down. We drive back to my apartment and drop off the ointment to Marlene. She’s propped up on the couch, resting on some throw pillows. The TV is so loud I’m surprised she hasn’t gone deaf. She’s watching The Break-Up starring Jennifer Aniston, of all people.

  “I hope you feel better,” I tell her, then skip out of the door so the rest of us can congregate on the balcony.

  “Hmm,” Alita says, looking around at the burned-out candles. “So this is where your scandalous ex romanced your sister with the dinner, the wine. He’s a two-timing Casanova. So I’m not impressed.”

  “Well, I was very envious,” I confess to Alita and London. “I don’t like that he’s doing things with her that he didn’t do with me. I feel like he knows how to push my buttons. Like he’s doing this shit on purpose. I don’t appreciate it. I’m trying to be a saint—”

  “You are no saint.”

  “Shut up, Alita. I said I’m trying to be one. But it’s not working. I want to pay him back for every hurtful thing he’s doing.”

  “His day is coming,” Alita assures me. “Don’t worry.”

  I feel my cell phone vibrating in my pocket and casually pick it up and glance at the screen. “Oh, snap, COCKY247 has written us back, London.” I laugh. “He says to name the time and the place. He’ll open up his packed schedule to meet us. He gives a phone number, but I don’t recognize it. Hmm, that’s odd.”

  “It’s not his landline?” Alita asks.

  “Nope. It’s a one-eight-hundred number.”

  “Call it now. Do it.”

  “Wait, wait.” I giggle. “I want to read the other e-mails first.” I scroll through Jeff’s messages. “He says he’s a native Houstonian. His Ph.D. was given to him by the streets. He’s had his heart broken before, but he’s willing to give love a try till he gets it right. Oh, no, he didn’t.”

  “You see what he’s trying to do, don’t you?”

  “What is he doing, Alita?”

  “This man is trying to prove that he’s vulnerable, human. He’s showing that he’s a strong man, and if he gets hurt, he’s emotionally strong enough to bounce back.”

  “I swear, Alita, you ought to be on the XM Cosmo station. You’re full of relationship analyses.”

  “I missed my calling working at Wal-Mart, huh? Girl, you won’t believe the things customers tell me. Women trying to explain to me why they’re buying a box of thirty-six condoms. How they got an STD from the last man they slept with. They’ve been forced to take control of their sexual life before they end up losing their life.”

  “That’s deep. Women have to do what they have to do in this day and age.”

  “Sure enough. I remember this one customer. This lady had all kinds of sex stuff in her shopping cart. So I’m trying to be funny, right. Telling her she must be getting ready for a sensuous weekend. That lady tells me, and she couldn’t be any older than thirty-five, she says she’s buying this stuff for her seventeen-year-old daughter, who she caught fucking in her bed while she should’ve been at school. And the man her daughter was fucking was someone the mom used to date.”

  “Oh shoot, so he was a thirty-something guy messing with a seventeen-year-old girl?”

  “No, fool. This guy was twenty. The woman is a big-time cougar who got a rude awakening. She said the men she’s attracted to end up trying to be with her and her teenager.”

  “That’s awful. It must’ve felt weird for her to buy condoms for her daughter and her ex. Better her than me, though.”

  Alita shoots me an odd look. A weird feeling passes through me, giving me a reality check. Who the hell am I to scrutinize her customer’s sex life? I’m no better than her or anyone else. And Marlene, poor thing, she’s unknowingly getting caught in the drama. Surely there have to be enough men to go around so that women won’t have to all be sampling the same goods.

  “Anyway, my point is, I hear and see a lot of things out there,” Alita says. “I am in a secure relationship, but I get scared sometimes, too. What if an Adonis steps in my line one day, gives me his phone number, and propositions me? It hasn’t happened yet, but what if it does?”

  I tell her, “The fact that you’re worried about it happening says everything, Alita. Shit, and if that’s the case we’re all in trouble. We’re all getting screwed without the Vaseline.”

  “No, I disagree,” London says. “We are adult enough to know what we’re getting ourselves into. No more excuses. Jeff knows what he’s doing. Marlene knew what she was doing when she made the decision to step out with your ex. And we know what we’re doing posting fake photos online. We do what we choose to do, and it’s up to us to face the consequences of our actions.”

  I can’t argue with London. Because as bad and guilty as I feel, I still want to pay Jeff back for what he’s doing. When Jeff and Marlene were getting busy tossing each other’s salad tonight, I went back to the SoulSingles website. Jeff has so many favorites I couldn’t count them all. Women from California to Maryland, Texas to Illinois. And the profile said he’s been on the site even when he knew me. That’s foul. I never totally felt that he was stepping out on me, but now it’s obvious certain things weren’t right with him. I truly wish that the good and honorable parts of him could have been evident 100 percent of the time, instead of 50 percent.

  “Well, in light of what London says, I am willing to face whatever is in store for me by pretending that I’m her.”

  We stop chatting and enjoy the evening’s cool breeze as we stand by my front door. I guiltily glance toward the living room window. Through the curtains I can see shadows of my sister, hugging a pillow, looking dreamily at the television. I feel sad when I realize her fantasy is about to come to an end.

  “Are we ready to make the call?” London pulls out a cheat sheet that I typed up for her. She is familiar with all my favorites that I listed on the dating site. And I told her it’s okay with me if she wants to fabricate any other information once she finally talks to Jeff. I really don’t care anymore.

  “Well, even though I doubt Marlene can hear us out here, let’s walk down these stairs just in case,” I say.

  Once we’re on the first level, I recite the 1-800 number and give London the okay sign.

  “Put him on speaker,” Alita says.

  “Good idea.” London presses a button and we hear a line ringing. It rings four times, then a voice comes on. “You’ve reached J.A.W. Enterprises. Leave your name and number to get a call back.”

  The voice mail indicator beeps so fast that London looks startled, but she quickly recovers. “Hello, this is Honey-BrownTX. We met on SoulSingles. I’m giving you a call to see what you’re up to. Call me back. I’m sure you see my number on caller ID. Lock me in so you’ll know how to reach me. I look forward to hearing from you. Stay sweet.”

  She disconnects the line.

  “Hmm, that must be a business cell. I don’t think he had that when we were together.”

  “You learn something new every day,” Alita says.

  “London, did you make sure your voice mail has a generic greeting on it in case Jeff tries to call you back?” I ask.

  “Absolutely. I never record my own voice on cell phone greetings,” London replies. “Well, I guess we should be heading out. It’s getting very late, and it’s about time Alita took me home. We’ll be in touch, Rachel. Stay on your grind.”

  “Sure enough. Thanks for everything, both of you. I owe you big-time.”

  I wave bye and go back in the apartment. Marlene is snoring with her mouth wide open. The closing credits are going off from The Break-Up movie. It’s after midnight. I stare at my sister through the darkness. There’s a look
of contentment on her face. Who am I to interrupt her moments of happiness? God knows they don’t come often or easily, not for any of us. Yet I think she deserves to know the truth.

  I tap her on the shoulder.

  “Sis, get up. You need to get in your own bed.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  “Wake up, Marlene.”

  “Nooo, I don’t know what he’s doing.”

  “Huh? You’re talking in your sleep?”

  “I found that money so it’s mine.”

  I giggle and lean close to her ear, so close I can hear her breathing. “Your man is a two-timer, did you know that?”

  She tries to shift and turn to the other side, but winces. “Ouch.”

  “Hmm, your little ankle must be hurting. Maybe it’s best you sleep on the couch. Doesn’t look like you’ll be going to work in the morning.”

  She snorts loudly, sounding like a hog. Unable to resist myself, I press my mouth close to her ear, “Jeffrey Williams is cheating on you.”

  Marlene’s eyes pop open. She sits up and squints at me. “Did you say something?”

  “I said you should go get in your own bed. That’s what I said.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost twelve-thirty.”

  “Oh, shoot. Hand me my cell.” Her phone is sitting nearby on the coffee table. I pick it up, and she snatches the phone from my hand.

  She opens the phone. “Dang, I can’t believe this. He told me …” She looks up at me and attempts to hide her true feelings.

  “Did you enjoy the dinner that Jeff brought over to you tonight?”

  “What? Oh, yeah. It was cool. He totally surprised me.”

  “I’ll bet he did.”

  “He’s doing a lot better.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I say and sit on the edge of the couch so that I’m facing her. “What’s he doing better? Care to be specific?”

  “Um, just in general. Nothing specific. I like how things are progressing.”

  “That’s good. I’m glad for you.”

  “Are you really?” she says, looking doubtful.

  “Yeah, if this is the man you think you wanna be with, and there’s no one out there better than Jeff, then you get what you deserve.”