It popped up just as fast: 2111 Franklin Street. That’s by the Paramount Theatre, I thought. There was a telephone number listed. Underneath were ten reviews, directions, hours and more. I thought maybe there were some pictures posted. I was almost afraid to explore this webpage. The unknown should be left that way. Guess that’s why I clicked on the link.
I read some of the reviews. I learned this club is Northern California’s premier and biggest gay and lesbian night club, and it’s open everyday. Some days they opened at 4 pm and other days at 2 pm. They closed at two in the morning, like all the other clubs in California. The cover was $15, and the drinks were slightly overpriced. But the buffet and the cute and attentive bartenders made it worthwhile. They had a nice mixture of men and women of all colors. I clicked on the photos link. There were pictures of a lot of Mexican men. I was shocked but curiosity kept me looking and searching. I didn’t quite know why I was doing this until the photo with the image of me was reflecting back at me.
There I was, with a red wife-beater and my locs up in a high ponytail hanging down with a big Kool-Aid smile. It looked like I was dancing on the dance floor with a dude though.
I was even more perplexed. Not at the fact the image of myself was Jordyn, my loving twin sister, but at the fact that she was at a gay night club with a dude that looked straight.
I was confused and starting to feel some kinda way about this. I covered my face with both hands and slid them down my face like I was wiping something off of my face.
I took a deep breath and wanted to call Derrick to look at this, but knew he was writing jokes and I didn’t know how to even feel about this.
I wanted to call my sister.
I knew she was at the salon working but I just wanted to bust her out. I decided against it. That wasn’t how to do it. I didn’t know how, but knew that wasn’t it.
I decided I would text her.
The message I typed went like this: “Hey let’s go… ” Then I decided against it. I figured my hair appointment was this week and I would just confirm my appointment.
I deleted the first message and just typed, “hey, I’m confirming my hair appt. can’t wait for my new color. We have been wearing the same color for too long.”
I really needed to change it, especially if she was gay. It was time to pray.
Lord, I don’t know what to do or say. This is too great for me. I have my own stuff to work out, my own relationship drama. Well, actually I don’t anymore. Before I get into the man I want, I want You to protect my sister, Lord. I don’t really know what this is about but You do, so fix it. Guide her through her decision making and if she’s gay . . .
I stopped mid-sentence because I wasn’t sure she was gay and didn’t want to be confused about this. I didn’t want to deal with it until we talked or I could let her come out on her own.
Well, she’s obviously not gay, I thought. She was there with a guy, plus some of her clients are gay. Maybe she just went there for a birthday party. Maybe I’ll call the club and ask them to take the picture down. We don’t need the bad press.
I went back into my prayer mode and asked the Lord for guidance and protection. Then, I started praying for my next man. I know to be specific when it comes to asking for what you want. God has a sense of humor, and I want my next guy to be the right guy and sent to me by the Lord.
I remembered when one of Jordyn’s clients said her next man better have a notarized letter from Jesus and another client said her next man gonna have to come to her front door with Jesus leaning on his shoulder and say, “This is your husband!”
I laughed to myself. I don’t think I’ll ever forget those two comments. They were so funny, we all laughed till we were in tears.
Lord, my Father please let this relationship with Drew be over. It’s getting old and tired now. Send the next one real soon and make him be the one for me. My desires are for him to be gainfully employed, tall (like Drew), cute (like Drew), very loving (like Drew), great sense of humor (like Drew), no drama (like Drew), and ready for marriage (like Drew). Amen
I rolled over and fell into my awaited slumber.
Chapter 15
THINK OF YOU
When I woke up, I had a text from Jason: Where are you?
I miss you.
I replied, “if you were here, you wouldn’t have to ask. But instead you are there with her.”
Fuck you!
I was getting sick of this mess I was in.
I had a nightmare that I was sitting on the floor in the living room opening up a wedding invitation from Las Vegas, Nevada. I was bothered by this. Such horror entered into my thoughts.
I was the one who people asked for advice. Was that a clue from God? I wondered. Was it a sign he was going to marry that girlfriend of his, or was it the invitation of our wedding that I was going to send out?
The invitations were white and trimmed in silver. That was all that I could remember about that dream, or nightmare. I’d been wanting to have a baby for a year. I was 36, not married, and not even engaged. I’d love to have Jason’s baby, but he was not here and was in a situation already. But he already said he would knock me up. How would we raise a baby with him living in Vegas with another chick? That would not work.
I ran our idea by a few people. My twin was supportive. Chelsea said Sean would make a better dad and she liked him, but said do what will make you happy.
Kalena told me to hurry up.
Najah didn’t think I could handle it emotionally. She said his situation would have to change. She also admitted that she was still mad at him.
Mama said to adopt or get married first.
Derrick said Jason wasn’t a pick and to go to a sperm donor instead.
We’d even talked about it once or twice.
“What kind of dad are you gonna be?” I asked. Jason said he would come to California every two months.
I was shocked and let down. I expected him to say he would move back and raise the baby with me.
Thinking I could convince him, I mentioned all the things he would miss out on—the baby’s first word, first steps, smiles and dirty diapers. Then when she grew up a little, it would be ballet recitals, softball games, tutoring, and choir. What about school and daycare costs, clothes, shoes, food and school uniforms? How would he help me from Vegas every two months?
I texted Jason again, “Cat got your tongue?”
He quickly responded, “cat got my tongue, huh? You know if it wasn’t she, then it would be we. That’s real talk. I have nothing but love for you.”
I was so sick of this relationship. There was no way I could get what I wanted fooling around with him.
“Kick rocks buddy,” I said out loud. I said it so loud that Derrick came in my room.
“What you say, Nee?”
I looked up at my friend, and he could tell that something was wrong. I was known for wearing my emotions on my face.
“What’s wrong with the baby?” He came to my bed and sat at the foot of it. “Is it Drew?”
“No!” I said abruptly. “It’s all of them!”
The waterworks began. I boo-hooed.
“Drew cussed me out and pushed me away; I just had a dream Jason’s getting married and Sean is the only thing that’s cool, but I don’t want cool. We like each other but he don’t want nothing else. He likes the way we are. I told him I wanted a baby and he asked, “whose baby do you want to babysit?’ What the what?”
Derrick got up and went into my bathroom to grab some tissue to wipe my eyes. I felt like crap; like the world was weighing on my shoulders. My heart was hurting badly. I just wanted to get over this part.
He began one of his many sermons and I needed to hear it.
“Well baby girl, when a man gets mad at you, keep your peace. Just like your dad always
say, don’t let nobody talk you to crazy.”
We ended up saying that together, which made us laugh. I felt better. Man that was quick. All my bad feelings went away.
“Yeah and then Pop would say ‘Baby girl, you need a man who knows how to fight a good fight’.”
“Yea, your pops has a lot of wisdom.” Derrick said. “Drew loves you and you guys have had a long road. That situation is delicate and only you know when enough is enough. Maybe he was having a bad day. But that damn Jason, ugh! I don’t know how you gonna feel about what I’m gonna say but here it goes, you guys are not friends, period.”
I looked at him in confusion, but my heart needed to hear something that made sense.
“Derrick, I feel like Kelly Price on her first CD, remember that interlude, I Need a Healing For My Soul? I need a healing for my soul so keep preaching.”
“It’s a relationship. It’s safe for the both of you because you’re not physical, but it’s everything else. You guys are deep in the emotional and mental parts. You serve a strong purpose for him ’cause it’s something she’s not giving him, and that’s why he’s so attached. Saying you’re friends is safe. Who can say that is a bad thing? His chick probably still can’t stand you, I bet. And y’all are in two different states.”
I rolled my eyes, and said, “well, she should be the happiest bitch walking, ’cause she has what I want!”
“Nee!” Derrick shouted. “I know, I don’t cuss but I’m mad so I might slip up and say shit, ass, fuck, gotdamn!”
I started laughing and clapped my hands. Derrick was laughing too.
“I have a question, D.”
“Yeah, go on.”
“You think I should go to him for closure and end this mess? I’m not gonna stick around when he gets married. If I’m gonna lose the race, I don’t need to wait around to see that I’ve lost.”
“Journee, haven’t you already lost the race when he moved to Vegas?”
“No I haven’t, cause he could have moved back home to me!”
“You mean back home to us. This is my home, too.”
We laughed.
“To answer your question, you don’t need closure. It’s not gonna change anything. Life happens, let life take its course. It takes strength and courage to end a relationship, so believe he’s gonna marry her. He doesn’t have the courage or strength not to. I’ll give their marriage twenty-nine months and then it’s hella over.”
“What’s the formula behind the 29 months?” I asked.
“Ok, so for the first eight months, they will be honeymooning and in wonderful bliss, then for the next six months, it will be the toleration period.”
“More like the regret stage,” I interrupted.
“Yeah,” he chuckled, “and then it’s the twelve months of the ‘what-have-I-done’ stage.”
“Why does that stage take so long?”
“Because there’s a lot of good days there. Like, there will be two good days and a bad day, then there will be two bad days and one great day. It has to build up to weeks of bad days and once it gets to a whole month of just bad fucking days, it’s a damn wrap. Then there’s the last three months of not getting along and trying to figure out how to leave.”
I laughed uncontrollably. This dude was amazing. His wisdom about relationships was always on point and he didn’t even have to know a whole lot about the person. He had a good judgment of character. All of this mess made me text Sean.
My text read, “I miss you.”
He quickly replied, “Why? I ain’t shit.”
I instantly got a headache from all this. Everything had gotten the best of me at this point. I thought it was time to write in my journal, ’cause at this point, I was ready to bare my birthday suit and run down Lincoln Avenue screaming, “I need a healing for my soul!”
Jordyn says when life is getting on your nerves, release it in your journal and give it to God.
I prayed all the time, but that letting go part was harder.
Seemed I had to over-think everything and have a plan together before I could give it to God, knowing it was a waste of time because God has a plan all of His own.
I looked under my bed for my journal. It wasn’t there. I figured it was in my desk drawer in the office.
After I retrieved it in the third drawer of my desk, I read some of the entries over the last couple of years: Drew this, Jason that. Jason this, Drew that. There were others of course, but the emotional stuff was about those two.
I decided it was time for a new journal, because I didn’t want to continue in that cancerous book of old stuff. I decided to type it on the computer:
Hey You,
Over the years I still haven’t gotten Jason the way I wanted to. An exclusive relationship was my goal for us. All the stuff we did, I don’t care what he says, he knew. He had to know how I felt about him. We talked all the time and spent a lot of time together. Movies, concerts, shopping trips, bowling, family gatherings, doctor appointments, Six Flags, trick-or treating, grocery shopping, cuddling on the couch. The list goes on. Couldn’t he see it in my eyes or in all of my actions? It’s been over ten years now and things still just haven’t measured up.
Why won’t he just say, “I don’t want you, Journee” Well, I guess he did. I just didn’t hear him. Packing up and moving to be with another woman in another state with another family had a big message. Even when he was here, he was too selfish to love me the way I wanted to be. (Guess the other guys that I dated and Drew kept me company while I kept the faith). But so, he was messing around too. He even admitted to meeting the girl he’s with after me. This is so confusing because we do love each other a lot. Now he’s just not available. Set aside how he makes me feel, we need to talk. If he loves me he will help me reach a decision no matter what the outcome. Whatever this is called is definitely dysfunctional. He’s not available and I deserve what I want. I believe our love is real. I love everything about him. I fell in love with the person he is. We could talk on the phone all day. We had so much in common. We laughed together a lot. We talked about the news, music, our families, fashion and sports. I feel like I can tell him anything. He inspires me and encourages me. When I talk to him, he makes me feel like no one else matters to him. But in reality, someone does matter more to him. Funny how this is the same person that has rejected me. This is so confusing. I know the stakes are high but this is what it is and I don’t like it. Maybe we are those kind of people that can’t be friends. Even though they say friends make the best relationships. How will we handle this mess we made? Do we kill the love and not feel the pain or do we love and feel alive?
I sat there and read what I wrote, made a few changes, and decided I should send this email to Jason. I grabbed the black mouse and scrolled through my address book to his name and clicked it twice and it was sent to him.
I turned on Pandora and didn’t look at the station it was on. I just listened. Moments later, the lovely voice of Oakland’s own Ledisi filled the room. She began to belt out the vocals of Think Of You. I closed my eyes and sat back in the chair. En route to clearing my head, I let her lyrics minister to my heart, because my soul really needed healing.
I thought about going to the bar next door to my twin’s hair salon. The girls at the salon say the bartenders at The Martinique have a heavy hand and can mix a drink. As the song continued to play, I felt recovery as the tears filled up. I released them because they burned. They seemed as if they were racing down my face. I thought it was gonna be one or two tears but this turned into true waterworks. I wiped both cheeks and eyes with my hands. As I opened my eyes, I was greeted with an email from Jason Smith.
Oh my!
I was hesitant, scared even, but anxious to read his response. I opened the email. It was one paragraph. Not too short or too long. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I bega
n reading what he wrote back:
First off, I’m touched, confused and hurt all at the same time. I read your email, ok I knew there were some feelings there, but I didn’t know the magnitude of your feelings. You may think this is bullshit, but it’s true. I had no idea when I was home. You told everyone except me how you felt. Now I see how you feel and believe me, things would be a lot different. The last time we broke up, I thought it was really over. I didn’t want to see you cry over me or anything that I did, that’s why I left without saying goodbye. I just couldn’t face you at the time. You call it being selfish, I call it being a coward.
I have grown a lot since I moved, but back then, you were too much woman for me back then. But your friendship is very valuable to me no matter who we are with. If our relationship happens to cross the path where we become more than friends, so be it.
Right Before My Eyes Page 10