by Cydney Rax
“Yeah, Mom. I’m going. What else am I supposed to do? With all this junk that’s going on here, I know it’s better for me to go.”
“Okay, okay,” I said and looked at her. I extended my hand toward her. She looked at it for the longest, examining it like it was an unusual sight, but soon she reached out and grabbed my hand. She held on to my hand until inevitable sleep consumed both our bodies.
Aaron 26
I slept through the night with one eye open, one ear closed. It was hard to sleep like that, a waste if there ever was one. When I decided to get up for the day, I immediately noticed the dead atmosphere. Empty. Lifeless.
When it occurred to me that Lauren and her mom weren’t there, I felt like the world had disappeared without me knowing about it. I wanted nothing more than to leave, but something urged me to stay. When I went to take a leak in Tracey’s bathroom, I saw a sheet of lavender stationery taped to the mirror. It said:
Aaron,
Be back soon
Lauren is catching early flight to GA
Taking her to airport
Don’t leave
Yours,
Tracey
I hesitated for a second before deciding to step into Tracey’s shower. Once the water was running nice and good, I let myself be soothed by the liquid heat longer than I normally would. After I re-dressed in the same clothes I’d worn the day before, I drifted around the apartment touching things I probably shouldn’t have been touching. Being alone in the apartment felt strange. Felt odd to be there, in a place where the two women that I’d been fond of resided. Sometimes you never know how to take stuff, and I didn’t want to dwell too much on what had happened. I just knew that the word was now out. Lauren knew, but somehow, some way, I was still determined to remain peacefully in both of their lives.
I wandered into the kitchen and saw a holiday basket sitting on the kitchen shelf. It was filled with goodies such as oranges, apples, nuts, crackers, and cheese. I’d grabbed an apple when I heard my cell phone ring. I rushed to pick up the line.
“Hello?” I said, my ears burning.
“Well, merry Christmas, son.”
I blew out a happy breath. “Hey, Mom, merry Christmas to you, too.”
“I know we talked just last night, but I wanted to hear your voice, make sure you’re okay.”
“Yep, Mom, I’m fine. You and Daddy up pretty early this morning.”
“Oh, your dad’s been up puttering around the house. He’s out walking Pudgie right now. I’m drinking my coffee and watching those retarded talk shows.”
I laughed.
“Oh, and he told me to tell Khristian Feliz Navidad.”
I gave a weak laugh and curled my upper lip.
“So I tried to call you at home, son, but Brad said you was gone. I assume you’ll be seeing Miss Lauren today?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, I know you gonna bring her by so we can get a quick look at her.”
“Uh, Mom, I don’t know any other way to put this, but I think you should know—Lauren and I broke up.”
“Broke up? Well, this must’ve been recently, because you just showed me the present you got her a couple weeks ago. Hmmm, I’m sorry to hear that, son.”
“Yeah, well, I—all I can say is we’re not together and, well, she’s going to be out of town for Christmas anyway.”
“Is that right? Things happen so fast these days I can’t keep up.”
“Mom, it’s nothing to worry about. No big deal.”
“Well, are you still coming by the house today? Your dad and I still want to see you. You know he hasn’t been feeling all that good. His eyesight is failing and now he’s wearing these thick ole glasses, the ones like that security guard on Martin used to wear. Thick, thick, thick.”
“Yuck!”
“What you talking about? Lendan Oliver still looking good to me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Anyway, I’ve been getting on him about watching his diet and . . . maybe you can come on by here and spend time with him. You know he’s the only father you got, and can’t too many people say that these days.”
I cleared my throat. “Uh, hmmm, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Aw, son, you going to have to do better than that. It’s not like we live all the way in Austin. Now I expect you to come by here sometime today.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I hoped that “sometime today” could be left to my own interpretation. After chatting for a few minutes more, we ended the call and I finished off my apple and threw the core in the trash.
CHRISTMAS DINNER WAS BRIEF. NEITHER Tracey nor I had much of an appetite. I think it had to do something with Tracey’s way of shooting the breeze. Fortunately, she looked stunning in a rose-colored knit turtle-neck and some tapered black trousers. She was letting the back of her hair grow out, and it was combed in a straight style that was lightly flipped on the ends.
“Aaron,” she scolded, rushing past me to the stove, “why’d you leave the pot uncovered? The vegetables may dry up.”
“Oh, sorry ’bout dat,” I replied.
Then later on it was “Why can’t you help me do some of these dishes? I don’t appreciate you slouching on the couch while I’m busting suds in the kitchen. So inconsiderate.”
I gave her a what-in-the-heck-is-wrong-with-you look, but swiped a dish towel and started drying silverware, plates, and bowls.
“The meal was great, Tracey,” I said to her profile. She never responded, even refused to look at me when she handed me dishes she’d rinsed. I sighed inwardly and was dying to get this over with.
Once we finished up the dishes I leaned against the kitchen counter and folded my arms across my chest. Miss Tracey poked out her bottom lip. Ordinarily this would be my cue that she was trying to look sexy and playing hard to get, but tonight Tracey was just playing hard.
“Hey,” I asked, spreading my arms, “can a brother at least get a little Christmas hug?”
“No,” she said, throwing the dishrag in the sink and rushing past me to the bedroom. The door whacked shut and then a lock clicked in place. I held up my finger and said, “Hey, aren’t you forgetting someone? Women!” I spread out on the couch and proceeded to watch any and every corny little Christmas movie that was airing that afternoon.
I was just about to settle in and check out Sinbad in Jingle All the Way when the phone rang. It didn’t seem like Tracey was going to pick it up, so I sprang out of my seat.
“Hello?” I said.
A long pause.
“Hello?” I repeated.
“Hi. Uh, is this 555-2030?” he asked.
“Probably is. Who did you want to talk to?”
“Is this Aaron?”
“You’re on a roll. Who is this?” I told him.
“It’s . . . it’s Derrick. Mr. Hayes.”
“Ohhh, uh, happy holidays to you.”
“Same to . . . where’s Tracey?”
“Uh, she’s not available right now.”
“I’ll bet she’s not.” Much attitude.
“I’d be glad to let Trace know you called . . . that is, if you need her to call you back.”
“Yes, I need Trace to call me back ASAP.”
“You got it,” I promised, and hung up.
I rubbed the flabbiest part of my throat for a few minutes.
Tracey walked out of the bedroom clutching the wrapped gift I’d brought over last night.
“I heard you talking on the phone. Who was that?” she asked.
“Your ex.”
“Which ex?”
“How many exes you got that still have your current number?”
“All of them. Now which one, Aaron?”
“Derrick X.”
“Ha, ha, ha. What did he want?”
“Not me.”
“Aaron.”
“Hell, I don’t know. I tried to get him to share his feelings, but he wouldn’t open up.”
“Yeah, right. Hmmm. I might call him ba
ck later . . . and I might not. Let’s go.”
“Go wh—” I asked.
“Just come on. You’re driving.”
“Okay, Miss Daisy,” I said, stepping up to her. “May I have a kiss first?”
“No, you may not, Hoke.”
I tried to swat her booty, but she skipped ahead of me and disappeared through the front door. I forced a laugh I didn’t feel. Grabbed my car keys and closed the door behind me.
HOUSTON’S TRANQUILITY PARK IS near the Transco Tower. Joggers, walkers, and families gather there to relax on any one of Houston’s notoriously hot and muggy days. There’s a lavish fountain, and dozens of white, black, and Hispanic kids, shoes still on their feet, dart about the cascading water or get their photograph taken while they pose inside the steady stream.
I didn’t say anything when Tracey barked the directions to the park. While I was driving, I’d glance at her but she’d turn her head away, preoccupied more with what was outside the car than in.
“You want to get out?” I asked after we sat in the car for the first few minutes with no words between us.
“All right.”
I opened her door. Felt my heart warm when, at my shy invitation, she placed her hand in mine. She still wouldn’t look at me, though. I didn’t mind too much, and was content just feeling the heat generated from our touch.
There were more people at the park than I’d imagined there’d be on a day like Christmas. We noticed a wedding party traipsing across the grass to stand in front of a tree. Smile-for-the-camera time. Dressed in a floor-length white silk and lace gown, the bride glistened. She clasped hands with her new spouse, holding on to his arm and brushing her lips against his bearded cheek.
Even Tracey allowed a smile at that one.
“What you thinking about?” I asked walking beside her.
“How I always thought I would have made that move by now,” she said, nodding at the bride and groom.
“Uh-huh.”
“Not that I think it’s too late. There are women much older than me who’ve yet to find a suitable mate. I think if getting married is something you dwell on all the time, if you allow it to become a fixation, it seems harder to attain.”
“You want to sit down on this bench?” I asked.
She nodded and sat down, stretching her legs before her.
“People always want what they don’t have. Always chasing after things they haven’t yet touched,” she continued.
“And what do you want?”
“Simple stuff. A man that I respect who will give me attention and affection and make me feel valuable.”
She paused. “Is that asking for too much?”
“Depends.”
“Why you say that?”
“If the things you want require the cooperation of another, they may be difficult to get.”
“Hmmm. Well, I—”
“For example, I don’t mean to go back in time, but take yourself and Steve Monroe. Based on the things you told me, it sounded like you wanted things from him that he couldn’t give, would you agree?”
“Well, yes, in a way—”
“And even though it seemed simple to you, it turned into something difficult because your ability to get it hinged on someone else’s actions and desires.”
“I get what you’re saying, but by the same token, isn’t that true for everything that a person could want? I think that just about anything we want requires somebody else doing something to help us get it, whether it be a man who gives me attention and affection, or otherwise.”
“That’s what I’m talking about.”
“Okay, I hear what you’re saying, but what’s your point?” she said.
“My point is, when you allow the things that you want to be controlled by someone else, you might always be frustrated. You expected Steve to give you things, and when he didn’t, it left you feeling unsatisfied.”
“Hmmm. I don’t like this; it sounds like my life is controlled by others or something.”
“Not necessarily. When you really think about it, your life is controlled by you, Miss Tracey. It’s up to you to decide what you want and make sure it’s something that you have the authority to do something about.”
“And what does this have to do with me and Steve Monroe?”
“Everything. If you were ready to solidify or advance your relationship with him, but he wasn’t ready, then it wasn’t going to happen. All the elements have to be there and working for things to happen as you wished.”
“But that’s what I’m talking about. That goes back to my believing someone else is in control of what you want.”
“Nope, you were in control of what you wanted; you just weren’t with the right man to make that happen for you.”
She sighed and swallowed hard, looking like she wanted to say something but not really sure how.
“You can control and have those things you want. You just have to make sure that you surround yourself with the people who can make that happen. Steve wasn’t the one. He and you wanted two different things.”
“You’re making it sound like I was used.”
“But you used him too, Tracey. Y’all used each other . . . and to me it sounds like you did get want you wanted, even if it wasn’t for as long as you’d hoped it would be.”
“I don’t know about all that. I really thought Steve and I had more than that. But the way things ended made me realize we didn’t have what I thought we had. I still can’t get over what he did. And for him to call me later on—”
“He called you? Why?”
She reddened.
“Well, yes, he tried to get in touch—”
“Tried to or did?”
“Okay, he did get in touch with me, but I never understood what he wanted. Didn’t really care enough to know. By then it was too late.”
“What if Steve Monroe told you he wanted to get back with you?”
She started slapping her legs together.
“I doubt that, Aaron. Besides, I didn’t allow it to go there.”
“So was that the last time you talked to him? When was this? A few weeks ago?”
Tracey fanned her face with her hands. “Something like that. Hey, you ready to open presents now? I brought them with us so we could be under the heat of the sun and enjoy each other somewhere else besides Williamstown Apartments, you know what I mean?”
I knew what she meant, all right.
“Okay, Miss Avoiding-the-Issue, let’s do the present stuff. You first.”
Tracey blushed and retrieved the large box from a Foley’s shopping bag. Smiling, she slid her fingers across the wrapping paper, a rich-looking silver and gold metallic design with matching bow and ribbon. She picked up the box and shook it and then brought her nose close and inhaled.
“Whatever it is, it smells good.”
She tore the paper, removed the lid, and laughed.
“Ohhh, thanks, Aaron. This is so awesome,” she replied, and took out a gift box filled with lavender everything: bath crystals, body mist, shower gel, two containers of lotion, candles, incense sticks, and cologne spray. She held the soap to her nose like she could taste it with her nostrils.
I leaned back and grinned.
“I love things like this. Makes me feel so feminine and pure. Thanks again.”
“My pleasure.”
“Okay, now your turn.” She handed me a teeny-weeny, itsy-bitsy box.
I cocked my head and gave her a teasing look.
“Look, don’t act all funny and stuff. I—I special-ordered this for you a couple weeks ago. It’s not much, something different. Hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will.” I let my eyes linger over the Afrocentric wrapping paper, a brown, black, and gold decoration.
Within the box was a black watch ring with a white face, something I’d seen before, but never really thought I’d own one day.
I placed the ring on my finger and looked at Tracey and reached over to graze her cheek wi
th a kiss.
“I like it,” I told her.
“You’re sure? Positive?”
I laid down the box, grabbed Tracey in my arms, and kissed her on the lips, kissed her like she was the woman in the long white gown and I was the proud man who stood by her side.
Aaron 27
The day after Christmas started out looking like a normal day. Sun rising like always, birds singing the morning’s arrival.
My loins were moved by the tons of soda I drank the day before, so I hopped out of bed and headed for Tracey’s bathroom. The phone rang.
“Hello?” Tracey answered, looking at me with the phone pinned tight to her ear like it was a lover’s mouth.
Her eyes rolled.
“Hey,” she said. “How’s GA? How was your trip?”
I hobbled off to use the toilet and closed the bathroom door.
Ten minutes later, when I returned to the room, Tracey was off the phone and dressed in some navy blue sweats with matching pants. She bent down to lace her running shoes.
“Going somewhere?” I asked.
“No, silly, I always cook breakfast in this outfit. Hey, let’s hop in the car and park at that lot near Brays Bayou. We need to get out and walk, get away from the apartment.”
“I’m right behind you.”
Brays Bayou is a man-made river that extends for miles in southwest Houston. People jog, walk, ride their bicycles, and do exercises along the adjacent pathway. Several fitness-conscious folks were already out this morning, mostly toned-looking white guys who wore shorts with no shirts. No matter what day of the year it is, there’s always someone who’s going to be wearing shorts in Houston.
Tracey and I began our excursion walking against the brisk winds of the morning.
“So how did the conversation go with your daughter?” I asked.
“To be honest, she wasn’t too happy, Aaron. Of course, the topic of the day was you and me. She fussed and rattled on and I listened for about as long as I could take, then I let her go.”
“You think she’ll tell her grandparents?”
“For what? They can’t do anything about it. I don’t talk to them anymore, and I know they won’t be calling me, getting into my business.”