My Daughter's Boyfriend

by Cydney Rax

  “May I ask a personal question?” she whispered, her face turning a darker shade of red.

  I nodded my approval.

  “Okay, so you and he have been . . . intimate, but have he and, uh, uh . . .” she said, twirling her finger around so I could say the thing she didn’t want to say.

  “Lauren?”

  “Yeah, have they done . . . anything?”

  I shook my head for a short while, thought for a long while, and shook my head again. “I doubt it. I can’t see it. I can’t even see Aaron trying to sleep with both of us at the same time.”

  “But how do you know?” she asked.

  “Look, Indira, believe me, you don’t have to throw that in the pot as a way to get me to get away from Aaron. I don’t know it for sure, but I don’t think he’s gone beyond kissing her, let alone screwing her.”

  “And what if he was . . . screwing her?” she said, rocking back and forth in her seat in a frenzy.

  “What the hell could I do about it? Ain’t nothing I could do about something like that. Except set it on fire. Castrate him. Toss that smoked sausage in the Gulf of Mexico.”

  Indira frowned. “Like that would solve things.”

  “Hey, Aaron’s a grown man. I don’t keep tabs on him. Although there are some times when I can’t reach him, but that’s pretty typical when it comes to dealing with some men.”

  “Oh yeah. What’s been happening with that?”

  “Well, sometimes he says he’s going to call, but doesn’t, or he promises to stop by, but I wait for him until I can’t wait anymore.”

  “Uh-huh. You’ve never asked him why he does that?”

  “What good would it do? It’s not like I know if he’s telling the truth or not. You know how some guys lie so much that it sounds like the truth even to themselves.”

  “So now what are you going to do?”

  “I’m playing it by ear, Indira.”

  She ate a forkful of food and chased it with a long sip of tea. “What do you want from him exactly? That’s the part I don’t get.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t get it, but thank you for not going completely off on me.”

  “Answer the question.”

  “Well, I want a chance to pursue this relationship. Maybe it’s total selfishness, probably lust thrown in, too. Call it whatever you want. I want to just see this through till the end. Give myself a real chance to be with him, as friends, lovers, and wherever else it may lead. Just try it and see where it takes us.”

  “Hmmmm. Now if this Steve guy were still in the picture,” she said, and wiggled one hand like she was holding a camera, “would you even give Aaron a second thought?”

  “That’s a non-question. If it weren’t for Steve, I wouldn’t be with Aaron in the first place, remember?”

  “Huh?”

  “This whole damned incident got started because Steve broke up with me.”

  “So you’re getting Steve back by tagging Aaron on the rebound?”

  “No, noooo, Indira. That sounds so tacky. I mean, I did not go out of my way to be with Aaron just to get back at Steve.” I shrugged. “Just happened. Wasn’t planned.”

  “And that’s your excuse?”

  “That’s the truth.” I didn’t like the way Indira was looking at me, and I hopped up from my seat to fill my plate with seconds. I could feel her eyes boring into my back. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked Indira to come meet me after all. Maybe I should have kept my secrets to myself. I knew she was my friend, but I also believed friendship only went so far. I wondered how far this one would go.

  THAT NIGHT, WHEN I LAY MY HEAD on my pillow, insecurity was my bed buddy, and I hardly liked how that felt. The lights were out, the room as dark as blindness, and I still felt like a nation of people could see me. What would happen if Lauren had seen Aaron exiting our apartment? Would her female intuition clue her in on what’s been going on? Maybe she’d seen him, but just hadn’t said anything yet.

  In denial.

  I didn’t know; didn’t want to know.

  Aaron 22

  It was around nine o’clock in the evening and quite dark, but I knew Lauren’s profile like it was daytime. She was standing in front of the Exxon station at the corner of Bissonnet and the Southwest Freeway. Even though I hadn’t planned on getting any gas, I drove into the station and stopped right next to a pump. She still didn’t see me. I grabbed my wallet from my back pocket and fished out a twenty-dollar bill. She was talking to the sales attendant through the station’s window.

  “How much will it cost for one jumbo Snickers, a big bag of Chee-tos, the thick ones, not those undernourished ones, and a liter of root beer?”

  The Iranian attendant rolled his eyes and started mumbling to himself.

  I stepped up to the window. “Whatever she wants, ring it up. I got it.”

  She turned around and gave me an indignant sister-girl look, like who the hell did I think I was? Any other time I would have smiled and teased her. But I was tired and still didn’t know what she knew. So I gave her a firm look and paid for both my gas and her stuff.

  “What the hell you doing up here, Aaron?”

  “Milking my cow, what it look like I’m doing?”

  “Oh, why are you even talking to me? I’m history, remember?”

  “Lauren, just because we’re not going together anymore doesn’t mean I have to act ignorant.”

  She swiveled her neck and put her hand on her hip. “How could you tell the difference?”

  “Look, Lauren,” I said in an even tone, “I’m trying to be nice. Nobody owes you anything.”

  “Oh, I don’t know if I agree with that,” she replied, and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  I held the bag of junk food toward her, but instead of grabbing it, she stepped back and the bag went crashing to the ground.

  I sighed. “You lucky this soda isn’t in a glass bottle. Your ass would be cut by now.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” she laughed.

  I started pumping fifteen bucks’ worth of gasoline in the Legend while she stood there looking at me all crazy, like she just got back from a buy-one-get-one-free crack sale. Her hair, which usually looked neat and sophisticated, appeared matted and soiled. Dozens of strands were sticking out from underneath a bad-hair-day cap. And even though she had on one of those five-dollar Tweety Bird T-shirts that you get from the flea market, her little shape still looked good. She had nice hips, long legs, and ample breasts. Since I’d been hanging with her mother, for some reason I’d forgotten what I’d ever seen in Lauren.

  I swallowed the mild regret that filled my mouth.

  “So, what are you doing out here?” I asked, as cool as possible.

  “Don’t have a man anymore. What else am I supposed to be doing?”

  “Acting pitiful doesn’t impress me, Lauren. Be a strong woman, count your losses, and go on with your life.”

  “Count my losses? Count my— Well, what am I supposed to do after I get through counting them? Put ’em in alphabetical order?”

  I gave her a blank look like, Yep, she’s a goner, shook my head a couple times, then replied, “Look, this is nothing, Lauren. I don’t know why you’re out here tripping.”

  “Ugh! Aaron, how you can stand here and act like it’s no big deal? I do not appreciate what you did. I mean, you come and tell me we can’t be together anymore. No explanation, no freaking reason, like I’m supposed to sit up and just accept what you say, just like that. Just because you prefaced your request with a ‘please’? Pu-lease!”

  She started pacing around the car, waving her hands and walking around like everything would make sense if she heard it out loud. By then I’d finished pumping the gas. Just leaned against my car, arms crossed, watching her cut up like she was on camera.

  “And another thing that was really messed up—I don’t like that you never explained the reason for the breakup. In case you forgot, we dated for months, Aaron. I thought we were close, at least close enough
for you to respect my feelings and to realize that shoving everything under a rug just won’t do. I don’t understand guys, but this silence crap, this I’m-dumping-you-take-it-or-leave-it attitude, ain’t cutting it. I demand closure, or else this mess will be locked up inside me till Jesus comes back.”

  She started crying real hard after she said that. I stepped up to Lauren and put my arms around her. She stiffened, but I grabbed her even more forcefully and pulled her against my chest. She hiccuped and sniffed and boo-hoo’d all over my favorite silk shirt.

  “Lauren, Lauren, let’s talk, okay?” She was covering her face by then, crying inside her hands. And I was getting flat-out sick of the onlookers who were peeping at us like we were actors on stage at a gospel play.

  “Hey, Cool. Everything all right?” this boy stepped up to me and asked. Little man couldn’t have been any older than twelve. I just gaped at him like “don’t even go there.” He backed off with his hands thrown up and went about his business.

  Once Lauren’s tears turned to sniffles, I got her to sit in my car. I fastened her seat belt because she was too involved with looking straight ahead like a mannequin, her attitude as cold as a corpse. My first mind told me to leave her ass in the parking lot, but I decided to drive her over to my place. On the way home I was hoping that Brad wouldn’t be there. It would be difficult enough for me to try and explain things to Lauren without being forced to give him an account, too. When I pulled up in front of my place, the apartment looked midnight black. No lights on, no Brad.

  Lauren trailed me inside the apartment. For some reason her stride and spirits picked up when she realized we were at my place. She came in smiling and began looking all around the living room, her eyes darting here and there like camera lenses. However, after giving the living room the once-over, her face returned to its gloomy look.

  “Have a seat. You still want these Chee-tos and soda?”

  She sat at the bar. Signaled yes with her head.

  I sat next to her. Folded my arms across my chest.

  “Okay, Lauren. You’re right. I—I should’ve given you a better explanation—”

  “You didn’t give me any explanation.”

  “Okay, I should give you some explanation because if I don’t, you won’t accept the fact that what happened did happen. Downsizing is a fact of life.”

  She was crunching on Chee-tos and her face flinched at my words, but she kept chewing and wouldn’t look at me.

  After a momentary silence, she asked, “So, Mr. Boss Man, what else do you have to say for yourself?”

  “What you want to know?”

  “Why’d you do it?”

  “Had to,” was my speedy answer.

  “But why, Aaron? Would you please answer the damn question and quit skirting the issue?”

  “There’s really not much to—”

  “Aaron, cut the bull!”

  “Okay, okay. The reason why . . . we broke up is because . . . I needed—I needed space.”

  “Space?”

  “Space.”

  “That is soooo stupid. Where’d you get that one from?”

  “I didn’t get it—”

  “Aaron, Aaron. Whether you admit it or not, you fired me for a reason, and I will know what it is before I leave tonight. As a matter of fact, why don’t I help you out? Would you like for me to do that, huh? Need some help?”

  She jumped up, grabbed two tumblers, and hurled them against the floor, a thousand splinters sounding like wind chimes scattering and decorating the linoleum. She better be glad I still had on my shoes.

  “Damn, bitch.”

  “Hold up, you don’t have to go there. Just tell the truth, and leave your bitches in your mouth.”

  I bent down and started picking up the largest pieces of glass, but I felt her hand brush aggressively against my back.

  “That glass ain’t going anywhere. Now stand up, be the man that you say you are, and tell me right now, what is your problem?” she ordered.

  I jerked my shoulder and felt her hand drop. “Nooo, nooo, uh-uh, Lauren. You will not come up in my house tripping and breaking stuff. Who do you think you are?”

  “Well, who do you think you are? Obviously you don’t know who the hell I am, or else you wouldn’t have played me like you did. Since you’re too full of hell to tell me yourself why you did you what you did, I’ll help you out. I know it has to do with another woman.”

  I just looked at her.

  “Ummm-hummm. Didn’t think I knew about it, did you?” she said.

  I didn’t say a word.

  “Aaron, like I said before, I’m young, but I’m nowhere near as dumb as you think I am.”

  I lowered my eyes to the floor. Who was going to clean up all that broken glass?

  “How come you aren’t saying anything?” she asked. “Admit it, Aaron. Isn’t that the reason? You aren’t denying it, so it must be true,” she said.

  I caught that.

  Must be.

  She still didn’t know jack.

  She shut her eyes and screamed, “Answer me, Aaron.”

  All I had to do was whack her one good time and Lauren’s head would’ve landed on Mars in record time. So she got dumped. What made her think she was so special? And that she had a right to reveal her Sheneneh side by taking her anger out on my kitchen floor?

  I guess all Lauren’s shouting was giving her some much-needed confidence, but I knew one thing, she’d better stop all that yelling like she was playing the slot machine at the damned casino.

  “Lauren, chill. If you lower your voice, we’ll talk. Please.”

  “I’m tired, Aaron. Tired of you stalling, tired of your lies. Why won’t you just answer the question?”

  “Okay, the hell with being nice. I’ll answer. I wanted space so I could be with somebody else. Happy now?”

  She growled and grabbed another glass. Raising it high in the air, she looked at me and smirked. I stepped up to her before she could start breaking stuff again.

  “Lauren, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry about all this. But you know how things were going between us. I think, I don’t know, I needed a more— someone who could meet my needs.”

  “I knew it. Regis told me you’d be out screwing someone else if you weren’t screwing me,” she said, lowering her hand.

  “Why you listening to her? She doesn’t know anything about me. She’s never even met me.”

  “Then what’s your excuse?”

  “It wasn’t just the sex part, Lauren. It was some other things, too. And for the record, I haven’t screwed anybody else. I was just talking to this person on the phone. I didn’t want to be with you and her at the same time knowing you wouldn’t be down with that.”

  Her chest sank. And just like I thought it would happen, the thing she begged me to tell her was the thing she couldn’t stand hearing. Women do that all the time. Beg you to tell them something, and when you do, they wish you’d never opened up your big mouth in the first place.

  She covered up her ears and shook her head. “I don’t believe this. I am not hearing this.”

  “Lauren, what’s wrong now?”

  “Don’t piss on me and tell me it’s raining.”

  “Tracey, I’m—”

  “Tracey? As in my mother, Tracey?” she asked.

  I threw up my hands and started walking toward the bedroom door.

  “Aaron, get your narrow ass back here right now. I’m not done with you.”

  I swung around.

  “Well, you know what? I’m tired of this back-and-forth shit and I’m done with you.”

  “No, you’re not,” she said.

  Before I knew it, Lauren ran up to me and clasped her skinny little fingers around my throat.

  “Ugh, uggh, what is your problem?” I tried my best to step back and loosen her fanatical grip. With tears popping in my eyes, I grabbed her hands and pried her fingers from around my throat, coughing and sputtering like I’d been trying to keep from drowning in an
ocean. She looked at me, delirious, eyes blazing, face all bunched up like an escaped demonette.

  Wished I had my dad’s pistol. With gun in hand, I would’ve become the most meticulous troubleshooter she’d ever seen.

  “Lauren, you’ve got to chill out. Get your ass up off me,” I said, backing away from her. But the more I backed away, the more she stepped up to me, stabbing me in the chest with one pointed finger and increasing her frenzied tone.

  “No, Aaron, you need to chill out because if you think you can come up here and tell me you ain’t bumpin’ some other girl, you’re lying. And why’d you call me by my mom’s name, huh? Y’all that tight now? She making you moan these days?”

  “Shhhh! Could you lower your voice? I got neighbors,” I pleaded.

  “You what?”

  I groaned and averted my eyes. Turned my back against Lauren and rubbed my sore and aching neck.

  “Prick. Can’t even face me. Acting like a little—ugh! I can’t stand you. I hope you die and go to hell in a gas-filled eighteen-wheeler.”

  “Lauren, you don’t have to go there. We can talk about this—”

  “What’s there to talk about? You screwing somebody, my momma screwing somebody. Everybody screwing and enjoying themselves, but all I’m getting is screwed.”

  “Lauren, you’re tripping. If you would just take a seat and calm down—”

  “Look, I don’t ever want to see you again, in this life or the next. And I know I won’t have to worry about bumping into you in heaven, ’cause ain’t no way they letting your lying ass up in there.”

  Damn! I felt like mucho mega shit!

  I couldn’t believe this was the day before Christmas Eve. Supposed to be chilling out, being happy, and looking forward to peace on earth, goodwill toward men. Here I was sitting up at eleven-something at night, wondering how to get this lunatic teenager under control so I could have peace in my apartment, let alone on earth.

  I was sitting on one end of the couch, she was sitting on the other, defiant legs crossed, mouth rigid, back pressed against the cushions like she was some kind of security guard.

  My eyes fluttered and I yawned. “Lauren, it’s getting late. Let me take you home.”