Right Before My Eyes

by Michelle Robinson

  He came to our homecoming football game and he came to a lot of basketball games. His best friend, Kevin, was the star player for the varsity team at Fremont High School. Drew played baseball for Castlemont, so I went to his games and brought Jordyn, Chelsea, and Kalena along. Najah would meet us there, because she went to Castlemont with Drew. We would sneak off and go behind the gym and kiss, rub, and grind. Our kisses were sweet and wet.

  This went on until I met Mario at O-High.

  Mario would come by my biology class every morning to pick up the attendance sheet from Ms. Smith’s class. One day during lunchtime at the Cable Car, his friend Lance introduced us and we exchanged numbers. The only problem was my parents said I couldn’t have two boys calling the house at the same time.

  Drew was starting to hound me for sex anyway and I wasn’t ready for that.

  From all that dry humping, I started to understand the male anatomy. But that thing was hard, and I was afraid Mama and Pop would know the moment I started having sex. They said a girl’s hips spread and her behavior changed. Plus, I was afraid of getting pregnant.

  My parents would kill me.

  I had to break up with Drew to start going with Mario.

  Drew cried like a baby for days, and I couldn’t do anything about it. Every time I looked up, Mario was coming over or calling me.

  Mario was a senior and he was fine. He was 6-foot-2, thick and light-skinned. He had green eyes, a pretty smile, and access to his Mama’s brand new black ‘92 Ford Probe GT. Mario’s pace was slower and Mama liked him more than Drew.

  Mario and I got to hang out a lot, especially the next year when I was a junior. He had graduated, and started working at Avis Rent-a-Car downtown on Broadway. He would pick me and Jordyn up and take us to school. On his days off, he would come to the high school and pick me up for lunch. We would go to Taco Bell, KFC, McDonald’s, Round Table Pizza, or Yang Chow.

  Eventually, we did everything together. We went to concerts to see NWA, Too $hort, Slick Rick, and LL Cool J at the Oakland Coliseum. We always went to family functions together.

  He escorted me to my junior prom. We wore peach and black. I had my dress custom-made. It was satin and lace, and asymmetrical at the bottom. My hair was cut like Halle Berry’s short pixie for the dance. That was the style in 1993.

  We loved just riding around Oakland. Any place we went, we took the streets. Gas was 94 cents a gallon, so $5.00 took us a long way.

  I even used to have him drive down 84th Avenue to Drew’s house. I’d lie and say I was looking to see if my cousin was home. He believed me because I did have a big family and we all lived in East Oakland.

  I just wanted to see if Drew was outside. Most of the time he wouldn’t be, but it was worth it to me to see if, just maybe, he would be.

  I remember one time he was, and I was so excited. I kept my composure though, because I didn’t want Mario to be suspicious. That’s when I knew I still really loved Drew. He had a car now and worked with his uncle doing carpentry and other odd jobs, which wasn’t bad for a senior in high school. I was in love and at that moment, and I knew it. I called Drew and tried to get back with him. He was reluctant but he couldn’t deny that he loved me. His family loved me too. We eventually got back together, but he always wanted me to know that I broke his heart.

  I let him know that I would never hurt him again, and I meant that. He did tell me about two other girls that were pursuing him, and they were willing to give him some. This time I had competition, and it wasn’t looking good at all. He assured me that I was cuter though. Well, I could believe that. I’m 5-foot-8, 140 lbs. I had brown skin with no acne, and long black hair. I had light brown eyes and by then my braces were gone.

  Not too many cute girls went to “Herpe High” and there was no way he could go with two girls from the same school. I was up for the challenge with my legs closed. So right before he graduated from high school, we got back together and I had to break up with Mario. Mario was cool, but he was boring and I still had the hots for Drew.

  I thought when we got back together things would go back to the way they were before. But, immediately, Drew started acting differently. He didn’t want me to go to his senior ball or come to his graduation. We argued about sex a lot, and he hung out a lot more. Having a ‘77 Caprice Classic—we called them box Chevs—increased his woman magnet. He loved playing Shirley Murdock’s As We Lay loud and it sounded good too, all that bass pumping out of his trunk speakers.

  He started faking on our dates and not calling me back when he said he would. He was in college now and used that as his excuse. Here I was, a senior in high school and supposed to be having the time of my life. But instead, I was tripping off of Drew. Finally, I asked him was he sleeping with someone else.

  Drew admitted to having some feelings for a girl named Yolanda. She gave him something that I wasn’t willing to give—sex.

  We broke up again. I started going with Mario again, and Drew started going with Yolanda, but I never stopped thinking about him.

  I broke up with Mario right after graduating from high school. I called Drew to let him know I was ready to make love to him. He agreed and made it seem like I owed it to him. Maybe I did. We had a sex-capade for two years. We had other people we were dealing with romantically, but we didn’t care. We were in love with each other, and that’s all that mattered to us. We didn’t live far from each other, and sneaked around a lot because Yolanda lived around the corner from him on 85th Avenue. My family lived in the Oakland Hills in Grass Valley, off of Golf Links Road. Drew and I had a variety of sex spots: the Coliseum Drive-in, Motel 6, the hot tubs in San Lorenzo, and in our cars on Skyline Blvd or Campus Drive.

  Today, Luther Vandross was singing Stop to Love and I was fussing with Drew and didn’t even know where this was coming from. We had talked everyday that week except for yesterday. We had phone sex everyday and had wonderful conversations all week. My phone sex game had improved so much that I began to really enjoy it. In truth, I have never been afraid to touch myself.

  Suddenly, we started to argue. I was in disbelief and shock when he yelled at me.

  “Nee, you hear me?” he shouted into the phone.

  My first reaction was to hang up. Getting mad is one thing, but cussing me out is something different, especially when I was paying for the call.

  “Nicca, who are you talking to?” I asked. “I told you to call me earlier yesterday, not at 9:00 am in the morning. I had to be at the dentist at 9:00.”

  I hoped that would resolve this fight and we could get back to our fifteen minutes of love. That’s how long each phone call was allowed to be. But I was wrong. This nicca was really mad. He wasn’t listening, and I started hollering and cussing, and now we were both fussing and talking over each other.

  After a half of minute of this, I just stopped because I couldn’t believe what this nicca had said. I was asking myself, “did this nicca just say this?”

  I probably got niccas running up in me, especially Derrick, and niccas running all through my house, driving my car and taking my money. First of all, Derrick Long is my male best friend and roommate. I had been friends with Derrick since high school. If I wanted to do Derrick, it would have been done by now. Drew knew this and I was sick of hearing him accuse me of doing it with Derrick.

  Yuck.

  I wasn’t saying yuck because he was ugly. Just yuck cause he’s like a brother and that would definitely be considered incest. Derrick and I were like Drew and Najah, except now Najah checked on Drew through me.

  Derrick banged plenty of chicks and didn’t need my help. Hell, I was banging too, but it ain’t my boy, Derrick. His name was Sean Fisher and he was coming over that night.

  We were going to play video games and just enjoy a bottle of wine, cause “Funnyman Derrick” had to host another amateur comedy show at O’Brien’s in Haywar
d.

  Sean and I were not serious. We were very casual.

  I found that I could never let myself get too close to a guy because there was just not enough room in my heart for three. Plus, Drew’s sentence was 15 years to life, so his family and I were all hoping that he’d be getting out soon.

  “What? You know what Drew. I don’t have time for this mess and fuck you. Fuck you for real!” I hung up the phone. The cradle shook. I was furious.

  I did not answer my phone when it started ringing again. I dusted that off my shoulders and looked at the clock. I quickly finished getting dressed. The day was too beautiful so I didn’t stay mad for long.

  I actually started to laugh in disbelief.

  Then, a pleasant melody started ringing. It was my crackberry letting me know that someone was calling. I picked up the phone and I looked at the screen. It read Chelsea Hendricks.

  I tossed my phone back onto my queen-sized bed. She just wanted to know if I’d left home yet so we could meet out front. I had to finish getting ready because I felt like wearing some eye shadow. The brunch was at the Hilton Garden Inn in Emeryville.

  I only lived ten minutes away.

  Derrick and I lived in a three-bedroom, two-bath Spanish-style house on Lincoln Avenue in the Dimond District. I loved this area in Oakland. There was a 7-11 right up the street on MacArthur and a Farmer Joe’s and a Safeway on Fruitvale. There were plenty of banks, bouquets, nail shops, beauty supply stores and a lot of cafes nearby. There was Jade Palace for Chinese food, a taqueria for Mexican, a Giant burger and Southern Café for some good ole soul food, and my sister’s hair salon Naturally Yours was a few blocks up the street.

  Chelsea lived in San Leandro near Bayfair Mall and had always been slow. I still had time to make my eyes pop just like my pedi. I’d call Chelsea when I get in the SUV, I thought. Wait until I tell her about this!

  Chapter 2

  U TURN

  I was freshly dressed and ready to shine for the day. The temperature inside my car said it was 81 degrees. As I approached MacArthur Boulevard, I turned my white Range Rover to the right and headed towards the 580 Freeway on my way to Emeryville.

  I was digging in my console looking for my brown Armani shades when another pleasant ringtone played from my crackberry. I was not quite used to the Bluetooth yet. I got time to get adjusted because it will be required by law come January 1st.

  I pressed my speakerphone button and put my phone on my chest.

  “Hello!”

  I knew who it was because his ringtone was different than the default ring. It was Jason, and now I was feeling alright!

  “Good morning, Nee.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Smith, how are ya?”

  “Fine, now,” he answered. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m on my way to meet Chelsea for a brunch with the ladies from her church.”

  “What color panties you wearing?”

  I chuckle. “I’m not wearing any. It’s too hot today for undergarments.”

  “Oh, you must be wearing a dress.”

  “You betcha.”

  He knew me well.

  My phone alerted me, letting me know that someone was calling on the other line. It was Chelsea again. I asked Jason to hold for a minute, and I answered.

  “Good morning Chelsea, what’s happening?”

  “Nee, Greg is seeing her and I can’t believe he didn’t tell me. He lied about everything. He wanted to marry me. We went ring shopping for Christ’s sake. Why did he do this to me? All I did was be good to him and be his support system. And I’m sure she’s gonna come to the brunch today, and this whole situation is pissing me off cause I am an usher and I gotta see this rubbed up in my face every Sunday. What am I gonna do?”

  She started crying uncontrollably. I didn’t have the heart to put her on hold to tell Jason I’d call him back, because this is what me and my divas call a “suicide watch”. That was our code—we had to be there for each other when a crisis breaks out. This was probably the only instance when we came before a dude.

  Chelsea was suffering a heartbreak because her ex-boyfriend was seeing another girl at the same church. He didn’t even break up with her in the right way. Something as simple as telling her “it’s not working” would have sufficed. Maybe a few questions would have followed, with a “baby, let’s work it out”, but that’s something only a real man can handle.

  “Chelsea, take a deep breath and breathe,” I told her. “Girl, he did you a favor, ’cause he’s not the one, the two or the three. Let her deal with his stupidity. He needs to grow up girl; you deserve to be with a man, not a grown boy.”

  She laughed.

  “I guess you’re right, but it hurts ’cause he vowed to not deal with another girl from the church and look what he turns around and does. He lied and it hurts Nee.”

  “What else is new? Don’t selfish people lie?”

  I figured I would tell her about Drew later. This was her time.

  I did manage to text Jason to tell him I was on an important call and would call him back after brunch. He texted back with one letter, “K”.

  I arrived at The Hilton Garden Inn and met Chelsea in the parking lot. I parked my Range Rover beside her emerald green BMW X5. She looked like she got herself together, but I still greeted her with a hug.

  I asked if she wanted to pray together. She said she just did before she got out of her SUV. We walked to the front of the hotel and right before our eyes, this nicca rolled up in a tan Yukon with the new girl in the passenger seat. Guess he was dropping the new girlfriend off just like Chelsea said.

  I grabbed Chelsea’s hand and looked at this situation, thinking, “you gotta be kidding me”. This was the kind of situation that normally happened to me.

  Before I knew it, Chelsea gasped and raised her other arm over her head and threw her opened bottle of water at full speed toward Greg’s head.

  “You liar!” she yelled. “You lied to me!”

  I jumped surprised that Chelsea would do something like that.

  He jumped out of shock, and I was guessing it probably felt good as hot as it was.

  “Girl, what’s your problem?” Greg snapped at Chelsea.

  “I’ll tell you what my problem is nicca. It’s you, you punk ass bi—”

  “Chelsea, we are amongst church folks. Watch it!” I yelled.

  She broke our embrace and started power—walking to his SUV like she could whoop him. I was right behind her, trying to pull her back. As she stopped right at his window, she said, “No Nee, let him tell me in front of Sherry what he needs to say to me.”

  Sherry was looking like “what in the world”, but she didn’t say a word or get out of his SUV. Instead, she turned to face us and looked interested in what’s to come. Greg was looking for something to dry his face with. He reached behind the seat and grabbed a red t-shirt.

  “Ah, hey Chelsea um, I’m rolling with Sherry now.” He was wearing a half-smile and I was thinking I wanted to smack him myself.

  “I told you that I didn’t like how you don’t treat me like the man I am. You wanna change me too much, and Sherry here, she accepts me just as I am.”

  Chelsea stood there with her mouth open.

  I was in shock at the way he just sided on her like that. It was just a month or so ago when I came over to Chelsea’s and he was kicked back all comfy on the couch watching TV.

  “So, what you gotta say now Chelsea?”

  “Well, what about us getting married Greg, and you going to school to finish your degree and the vacation to the Bahamas we’re supposed to take? You can’t just do this to me, I deserve better than this.”

  She was crying now and before I could blink—Slap! Right across his fat face. I didn’t care for him no way. He looked like a player, but I
liked how he made her feel. She wore such a glow.

  Good for Chelsea, I thought as I refereed her away from him, showing my mug face to him and Sherry. Soon as we got into the lobby, the sisters from the church came to comfort her and try to figure out what the commotion was about. Everybody was gathered around like we were about to play football. This was too much excitement for me, so I broke the crowd up so Chelsea could breathe.

  Sherry walked in and everyone quieted down. I could see Greg’s type because Chelsea and Sherry were similar. But Sherry was the girl who got pregnant on a one-night-stand by some dude, and had to get an abortion because the dude didn’t want anything to do with her or the baby.

  Chelsea said she already had a son about seven years old. Sherry was about 5-foot-3, about three inches shorter than Chelsea. She had light skin, was a little plump, and had a cute, short haircut like Wendy Raquel Robinson from The Steve Harvey Show. After everyone walked to the elevators to go up to the brunch on the top floor, Sherry approached us.