My Daughter's Boyfriend

by Cydney Rax

  “I’m not going home.”

  “Well, you don’t have to go home, but you got to get the hell up out of here.”

  “Nope, not going.”

  “Look, get gone, bit—”

  She uncrossed her legs. “I told you not to call me that.”

  “Stop acting like that.”

  “Stop doing things that make me act like that.” She moved her head with every word she emphasized, like her feelings were attached to her neck or something, and if she didn’t do the head-motion thingy, then I might not understand.

  “Look, don’t blame me for your insaniac ass. Nobody’s making you do anything, Lauren.”

  “Aaron, why’d you have to go and do something stupid and mess everything up just so you can talk to some other girl? Who is this girl, huh?” she whined. “What’s her name?”

  “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  “What do you mean, even if you knew? See, that’s what I’m talking about. Why are you lying? If you wouldn’t lie, I wouldn’t be acting like this, Aaron.”

  “I didn’t mean that. I meant it’s just someone—”

  “How can you cover for some girl that you just met?”

  I averted my eyes.

  “We were tight all that time, and it’s like it counted for nothing. That’s bull, Aaron.”

  “Okay, what do you want? What do you want me to say? I’m trying to be patient with you. You’ve come in here yelling and breaking stuff. I don’t understand what your problem is,” I said.

  “If you don’t understand, then you don’t need to understand. This stuff is elementary, Aaron. Hell, it’s pre-K. One, I cared about you. Two, you promised me that you’d take that rain check. And three, Christmas is two days from now, but our so-called relationship is almost nonexistent. It’s all messed up. Can’t you understand that?”

  “Okay, yes, the timing sucks, but—”

  “Oh, I get it, you’d rather be with her than me on Christmas,” she said.

  “Lauren, you weren’t going to be in Houston anyway, remember?”

  “Oh, how convenient, Aaron. How freaking convenient,” she said, and started clapping her hands.

  I could tell we weren’t getting past “Go” with our conversation. Treading the same old ground and stuck in the same old place. Damn, if I had some TNT I would’ve blasted her butt clear across the Southwest Freeway. I needed to think of a way to get her to leave.

  Twenty minutes later, and after a few more insults courtesy of Lauren, I noticed that it had started raining. I could hear the noisy pelting of raindrops on the roof. I tried to catch Lauren’s attention, but she was making yawny-sleepy faces and stretching her arms.

  “You ready to go home yet, Lauren? I know your mom’s probably worried about you.”

  “Who cares?”

  “You want me to call your dad and ask him to pick you up?”

  “Nope, I don’t,” she said with drowsy eyes and a couple of neck-snaps.

  “So when do you plan to make your way back home, huh?” I asked in a polite voice.

  “When I get good and ready, that good enough for you?” came her toxic reply.

  “Okay, I know what’s up, Lauren.” I stood up. “If you want me to say I screwed up, okay, I’ll say it. I screwed up. Happy now?”

  A small grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. She was still yawning her butt off, knew she was about to pass out from sleep, but kept trying to fight it like it was twelve noon.

  “That’s better. Aaron, may I ask you a question?”

  My legs froze.

  “What?”

  “May I have a kiss for old times’ sake?”

  “Wh—”

  “Pretty please. Let me have a kiss and then you can drive me home.”

  I tugged at my ear and went and stood in front of her.

  She grabbed me around my waist, hugging real tight. I waited to see if I could feel a knife piercing me in the side. I couldn’t, so I hugged her back. Not tightly, but enough for her to know I still had a heart.

  Then she looked up at me, all Bambi-eyed, her mole looking sexy as ever, and she brushed her lips against mine. I didn’t respond much, just a smidgen. Enough so that she wouldn’t cop an attitude and get mad again.

  I felt her resolve melt under my mere response. Lauren blushed, looking at me like I was her best friend. Even giggled. She probably was very sleepy, or hallucinating that a kiss meant I was going to get back with her. At any rate, I was relieved when she released her claws from my neck and grabbed her purse. She started walking toward the door and stopped to tell me, “Hey, Aaron, I didn’t mean to break all your glasses, but you gotta understand how I was feeling at the time. This isn’t easy for me to handle; I never really saw our breakup coming.”

  I just nodded and scooped up my car keys, which were lying on the breakfast bar. I heard the splattering of rain outside my window. The night had an eerie quietness that hovered over the building.

  Lauren went to open the front door. She was still talking as she stepped outside. “I wish we could have talked out our problems before you decided—”

  As soon as she walked out the door, I slammed it, and secured all three locks. I slid my back against the door, sitting down on the floor, listening to her on the other side.

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

  I heard the sound of her fists pounding against the door.

  “Open the door. Did you know it’s raining out here?” she yelled.

  I closed my eyes, lowered my head, and prayed real hard, asking God to forgive me for this one. In my book, Lauren had shown her true self tonight, and as far as I was concerned, I never wanted to see it again.

  Tracey 23

  Christmas Eve.

  I basically slept the night away, warding off torturous dreams. Kept seeing buckets of rain in my dream, hard rain that kept coming and coming. Thunder and lightning invaded my mind, too. When I awoke, it was almost 7:00 A.M. The rain had stopped in my dream, but not in real life. Water was streaming down the window. I shivered. Felt a little bit cold, so I got up and turned up the thermostat.

  When I went to check on Lauren, I saw her knocked out, spread across her bed facedown with her clothes still on. She looked like death, so I walked toward her and knelt close to her mouth. The moment I heard the faint sound of her breathing, I raised my face to the heavens. I knew that she’d be leaving for College Park tonight. Her plane would take off at eight-thirty and she’d land at Hartsfield International two hours later.

  It had been a horrendous week, and I was very eager for Lauren to get out of town. Seemed like when she was there, when she was close by, I couldn’t think straight. If she went away, maybe that would give me a chance to step back and evaluate everything that was going on. Nothing could happen as long as she was there.

  I tinkered around the house, feeling like I was just going through the motions. I made a cup of hot apple cider and tried to look at the morning news, but all the television anchors started getting on my last nerve with their I-get-paid-mucho-money-to-grin-like-this smiles, so I chopped off the news right when the weather segment began to air.

  I knew that Aaron told me he’d come and spend time with me, and I started wishing tomorrow would get here already. I knew we were going to exchange gifts, too. He’d told me he’d changed his mind about giving Lauren her present, and I didn’t know what to say about that one, so I kept my mouth shut. Felt like an airhead in a way, still unable to completely reconcile everything that was happening. But that’s one reason why both Aaron and I were glad Lauren was going out of town. We craved the privacy, time and space to talk everything through.

  The ringing of the phone pierced the air.

  “Hello!” I answered without enthusiasm.

  “Hello there.”

  Derrick.

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Well, I thought you’d be up. That’s why I’m calling so early.” He sounded apologetic.

  “U
mmm-hmmm. Is there an emergency of some sort?” I asked.

  He laughed like I was way off base.

  “No, Tracey. Just wanted to touch base regarding Lauren. Is she up yet?”

  “Uh, no. Still asleep. You need to talk to her? I’ll wake her up.” I yawned and started walking toward Lauren’s bedroom.

  “No, no, don’t do that. I guess I can get with her later. You know, with it being her first time flying alone, she might be nervous.”

  “Oh, she’ll be all right. People fly solo all the time,” I replied, and stared down the clock on the stove.

  “I know that, Tracey, but still . . . maybe you could encourage her and help her to feel comfortable about flying.”

  “Uh, well, okay, whatever. So you want to call her later on this morning? Say around eleven?”

  “Sounds good. And how are you doing today, Tracey? Glad to be off?”

  He always did remember that I have a week off at Christmas.

  “Yeah, I ain’t complaining. Some people’s jobs only let them off today, and then they’ll be back at work on Monday.”

  “I know that’s right. Like me, I’ll be working like a slave today. So, uh, are we both on the same page as far as you taking Lauren to the airport?”

  “Yes, Derrick. I’m still the designated driver.” I sighed. I hate telling people things they already know. Why bother?

  “And I’ll pick her up on January third, ten-fifteen, at Hobby?”

  “Yes, Derrick.”

  “Okay, uh, I’ll let you go back to whatever you were doing. And I guess I’ll talk to you later, with your fine self.”

  “Fine? Yeah, right,” I said in a bored tone.

  “Tracey, why the sarcasm? I really meant that. You need to learn how to accept a compliment.”

  “Derrick, I’ll accept your compliment for the trap that it is.”

  “Aw heck, being nice to you is as pointless as shaving a bald head. Can’t say I didn’t try.”

  “You could say it if you really tried hard enough,” I laughed.

  “Hmmm, anyway, I’ll let you go,” he said, with hurt woven in his voice.

  “Yeah, let me go.” I hung up.

  Whatever.

  I stuck around the house for as long as I could stand, but at around 10:00 A.M., my daughter was still asleep. I grabbed the phone, hid myself inside the walk-in closet, and called Aaron.

  “Hello? Lauren?”

  Aw, hell. It was that roommate of Aaron’s. What’s-his-face.

  “Oh no, it’s not Lauren. You must have caller ID.” Damn, caller identifi-fucking-cation.

  “You got it,” the smiling voice said.

  “Well, is Aaron available?” my fake-happy voice responded.

  “Nope, he’s out and about right now.”

  “Oh, hmmm!” I murmured, lost in thought.

  “Hey, is Lauren okay?”

  “Yeah, as far as I know,” I said, with no certainty in my voice.

  “Good. I was sort of worried about her. She was shaken up last night.”

  “And how would you know that?”

  “Oh, that’s right, you must’ve been asleep when I dropped her off. Well, she was—uh, she was over here last night, and I—I gave her a ride home.”

  “Lauren? Over there?”

  “Uh, yeah,” I heard him force out his answer.

  “What was she doing over there?” I asked, gripping the phone.

  “Hey, that’s not for me to say, but I’ll let Aaron know you called, all right, Miss Tracey?” He hung up in my face before I could reply. I stood clutching the phone in my hand, wondering if I should even believe a word that what’s-his-face said. Started to try and reach Aaron on his portable, but instead disconnected the line and got dressed.

  THE MALL WAS CONGESTED AS SOON as I turned into the parking lot. I had to drive from row to row, waiting for a space to open up. When one finally did, I zipped into my spot and rushed in the mall, making my way through the throng of last-minute shoppers, mostly middle-aged men, looking haggard and stroking their beards or their foreheads.

  “Y’all shouldn’t have waited till the last minute,” I said to no one in particular, trying to rush past a few men who were lingering outside Zales jewelry store.

  Foley’s looked as dazzling as ever. Red and white decorations brimming with holiday cheer hung from the ceiling, spreading tantalizing sights, alluring smells, and mellow but festive sounds throughout the store.

  “I don’t have the foggiest idea why I’m here,” I murmured to myself. I was now in the shoe department. As usual, many female shoppers were located strategically throughout the area. Most stood dangling one or two shoes in one hand; the other hand rested on their hip, their faces wearing the look of forced patience.

  I searched throughout the department, but didn’t see him. Wasn’t surprised. Thought he might have been there, but for all I knew he’d be on vacation that day.

  Spotting another employee who was busy ringing up a sale, I walked up to her.

  “Excuse me,” I said.

  “Be with you in a minute,” she replied, her eyes never leaving the cash register.

  “This’ll only take a minute,” I insisted.

  She looked up.

  “Oh, really? Well, tending to my customer will take five minutes. First come, first served.”

  She said “served” real loud, like I was either mentally retarded or spoke English as a second language. The woman who was being waited on fake-smiled at me and patted her four boxes of shoes. I shook my head and backed away, my rear making contact with another customer.

  “Oh, sorry,” I mumbled in embarrassment, then looked up at my victim.

  Lelani.

  She made an I-can’t-stand-you face, lips twisting as if she’d tasted poison.

  “I know you aren’t up here in Foley’s,” she told me.

  “How could you know that I’m not here when you’re standing here looking right at me?”

  “Oh, bitch, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  I flinched. “Listen, Lani. If you call me anything, call me by my name.”

  “Oops,” she laughed. “I thought I did . . . bitch.”

  My purse hit the floor. “Look, I’m about as sick of you—”

  “And I’m sick of you. A long time ago, I told you to get a life. Why you keep chasing the man?” she said in a loud, irritated voice.

  “I’m not chasing the man.”

  “Then what’re you doing up here at Steve’s job? Passing out gospel tracts?”

  I looked at her dumbfounded.

  “Steve told me you’ve been harassing him, and that he’s warned you at least two times to leave him alone. I guess you don’t believe fat meat’s greasy.”

  The fact that Steve acted like he was still interested in me, but could diss me to someone like Lani, infuriated me. It was as if he’d invited Lani in our bed, pulled back the covers, and patted a space for her to occupy. As far as I was concerned, it was a space that didn’t hold enough room for both her and me.

  “I don’t care what Steve said, I know for a fact he’d still want to talk to me.”

  “Look, I don’t have to convince you that Steve is not even thinking about your crusty ass. Leave him alone, ’cause he ain’t got time for you. Take a hint: he don’t want ya.”

  She opened up her coat and gave me a hardened look.

  “He wants us,” she announced with an I-know-you-can-see-it-andyou’d-better-believe-it expression on her face.

  I looked inside her coat.

  Lelani’s belly was shaped like she’d swallowed a watermelon.

  Steve’s watermelon.

  In many people’s lives, there’s a time when a defining moment arrives. It sneaks up on you most of the time because you’re not expecting it, not really wanting it to appear. But this time around, the definition was too loud for me not to hear, too big for me not to see. And looking at Lelani, really looking at her and what her protruding belly represented, made me
face yet one more sad reality. Why had I even come to Foley’s? Why had I convinced myself I was over him, but was still trying to hold on, as if I had anything solid to hold on to? I needed to get this Steve situation settled and be done. Call it for what it was, so that both Steve and me knew.

  Since looking at Lelani, any parts of her, hurt like hell, I veered my eyes to a nearby shoe display and asked in a crisp voice, “Is he here?”

  “What you want with him?” she asked with a smile that sounded as if she were enjoying herself.

  I casually picked up a taupe-colored three-inch-heeled pump and turned it to its bottom, like Lani standing before me didn’t affect me. “It’s personal.”

  “He’s probably out in the mall, at a jewelry store . . . buying a ring . . . for the mother of his child.”

  I cringed and threw the shoe on the table. I faced the one woman who somehow always seemed to play a role in a movie that I didn’t care to be part of.

  “You can save that one,” I told her. “Steve’s not the type to get married, even if you were stupid enough to get pregnant.”

  “Look, I don’t need you to advise me about my life with Steve. I don’t know what he ever saw in you in the first place. You’re not all that. No class, desperate acting, can’t-get-your-own-man-always-gotta-go-after-somebody-else’s-man type of bitch.”

  If Lani didn’t have on all those gold chains, my hands could have easily fit around her neck. But instead of going postal, I exhaled deeply and thought about what she said. Her words, specifically the part about me always having to go after someone else’s man, made me feel like I had no place to lay my head. Like I didn’t have an advocate. And as much as I wanted to prove that woman wrong, to act the fool with her, word for word, I turned and walked away.

  I got in my car and drove toward Katy, a suburb on the west end of Houston. I was just driving, not wanting to stop anywhere. Wishing I was anywhere except where I was. The rain was still coming down from the sky, a menagerie of gray smoke. I drove until I was so far out that the surroundings seemed foreign. I thought that if I were somewhere unfamiliar, the break from my reality would give me comfort. But it didn’t take long for me to surmise that comfort doesn’t come from being in a place that seems to shield me from my problems. No matter how far I could have driven, even if I reached Ontario, my situation still existed, and would not soon go away. So I said a prayer, wiped away a few loose tears, and contemplated deep thoughts all the way home.