Smitten

by Nicole Falls

  Actually, it was hilarious to me...now. When I saw the cracked iPod initially I wanted to throttle the kid...and his mama. My sister Patricia should have, in my opinion anyway, been making sure that PJ put some respeck on that damn device that I spent my hard earned coins on. Pat said I should have taken into consideration the fact that he’s a ten-year-old boy and they don’t know the meaning of delicacy nor gentleness when it comes to their property.

  I finished plating the tortilla shells for the tacos I’d made for dinner and pulled out a few Meyer lemons to squeeze for lemonade. I could hear PJ in the living room just chattering away, but I figured he had either Face Timed one of his cousins or a schoolmate. When I finally heard a voice respond that sounded too close to be coming through the tinny iPad speakers, I wiped the excess lemon juice from my hands and headed to the living room to see who he was talking to. I walked into the living room to see PJ entertaining Devorah with tales of his most recent indoor football league game.

  “Patrick Michael Payne, have you lost your ever-loving mind? What did I tell you about answering my door?”

  “Calm down, Young Celly...I used my key,” Devorah said, winking at PJ, “Give my guy a break. Everyone knows about your paranoid password antics.”

  “That key is for emergencies only.”

  “And I urgently had to piss, so it was necessary,” Cadence piped up as she walked into the room.

  I rolled my eyes, “Must you be so crass?”

  “Since when are you the queen of decorum? Also, what’s for dinner because this place smells fantastic,” Cadence said, drifting back toward the kitchen.

  “We’re having a fiesta!” PJ yelled.

  I walked back into the kitchen to catch Cade stuffing a piece of a tortilla in her mouth. Her eyes went wide as I appeared.

  “Just wanted to make sure you got the flavor right,” she quipped, pulling out a chair to sit down.

  “Sis, it’s a corn tortilla. The only thing I did was warm it, ain’t no flavor.”

  I wound up inviting Dev and Cade to stay and have dinner with PJ, Pat and I. As usual I’d made way too much food, so there was plenty to spare. By the time I’d finished with the rice and beans, Pat showed up and we chowed down. PJ was in rare form tonight, keeping a running chatter of commentary going about everything from his favorite cartoon, Steven Universe, to the girl at his school that he definitely did not like like that, but still managed to be a topic of conversation for more than fifteen minutes. After we finished eating, PJ and my iPad made their way back to my spare room, while the ladies and I – minus Cadence – indulged in a little wine.

  What was supposed to be a quick dinner with my sister and nephew after her long day at work quickly turned into the Spanish Inquisition after Cade brought up Karim. It’d been about three weeks since speed dating and our coffee...transaction, I hesitated on calling it a date, and I’d decided not to call him. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to even be bothered with anyone.

  “Y’all I’m telling you, he was fine. Like...Kofi Siriboe fine,” Cadence crowed.

  “Who?” asked Pat.

  “Ralph Angel,” I supplied, briefly pondering their resemblance, which, was kind of uncanny now that I thought about it. Both he and Karim had the same sculpted cheekbones, powerful jawline and definite negro nose. Two striking differences between the two were Kofi’s burnished skin was slightly darker than Karim’s and his eyes were definitely not as warm as Karim’s. Before my mind recognized exactly how fine he was, those eyes had made a lasting impression.

  “So wait...he’s as fine as Ralph Angel…” Devorah started.

  “Finer. He’s Ralph Angel with that grown man weight on him. And smart. And an entrepreneur. But super available so, you know how that goes…” Cadence trailed off.

  “Cade!” Dev said, “Cel, she didn’t mean anything by that. You know how she gets to running her mouth.

  “She does have a point though,” Pat chimed in, “We were all thinking it.”

  “Who the fuck asked you?” I said, a little irritated at this point, “It’s too soon for me to be rushing into something with someone.”

  “Too soon? Give me a break.”

  “Okay!”

  Cadence and Pat slapped five as Devorah looked slightly uncomfortable. Despite being brash, Dev had actually been the most understanding about my reaction to this Jacob shit. She had held the phone many a night as I sobbed in her ear asking how I could miss the signs yet again that I was dealing with a fuck boy.

  “You need to stop chasing these men who are just like Daddy, little sister.”

  “Oh, you’re a fine one to talk, Miss I’m a strong black woman who don’t need no man and to prove it I’ll make my son my junior.”

  Yep, my big sister decided that she didn’t have time to wait on the universe to send her The One, so she went and got artificially inseminated. PJ’s daddy was some fine specimen of man whose predetermined age, ethnic background, and educational pedigree fit my sister’s exacting standards for the man who would never be present in the life of their son. This was a fact she proudly touted, thought a part of me always wondered if she was really happy with her decision. The life of a single mother with a demanding career who relied heavily on her village to help her raise her child was no crystal stair. And when your village consisted of me, one childhood best friend who lived fifteen hundred miles away, and an aftercare program in conjunction with the boy’s school? The heft of your decisions weighed even heavier on your mind.

  “On that note...let’s go, Mama Bear,” Devorah said, pulling Cadence up and nudging her to the front door.

  “But it was just finna get good!”

  “Actually I need to get outta here as well. Patrick’s got an early football game tomorrow. You coming, sis?” Pat Sr. asked me.

  “Yep. I'll be there.”

  “Good. So we can continue this convo then.”

  “Or you could continue to mind your business…”

  “You are my business. CMB. We all we got.” Pat said, pulling me into my brief hug, “Patrick Michael, let's go!”

  PJ came running to the living room, stopping briefly to give me a hug before pulling on his shoes and hoodie.

  With everyone gone, I took a second to unwind in my favorite way. Though the ladies didn't press me hard core, I felt myself tensing and in need of relaxation. Using my phone, I connected to my Sonos sound system, allowing my Spotify Daily Mix 3, which contained music from the likes of KING, Anderson.Paak, and BJ the Chicago Kid to set the mood. Then I pulled the small brass box that contained my “let it go kit” from beneath the coffee table in my living room. I unlocked the box, retrieving a lighter, a small porcelain bowl and a stick of Palo Santo. I lit the Palo Santo, allowing it to catch a spark briefly before blowing out the flame, letting the smoke move throughout the space, shifting the energy in my house. Reaching back into the box, I grabbed a pre-rolled j and sparked it. With the first inhale, I felt all of the tension leave my body.

  After a few more puffs, I was completely relaxed. As the music shuffled to a song talking about letting down your guard down to let someone in, my mind drifted back to Karim. Fact of the matter was, I was really drawn to him and we did vibe really well in Perk. If the shop hadn't been closing, I'm certain that we could have talked for endless hours about everything and nothing at all. That kind of instant connection was rare and if I was being completely honest? It scared the shit outta me.

  The last time I trusted my instincts and let my guard down, well...nope. I didn’t even want to go down that road and fuck up my high. Instead, I decided to grab my iPad that was discarded by PJ and see what was going on in wonderful world of social media. I decided to start with Instagram because it’s my favorite. It’s honestly people at their best – photos of them doing fun shit, eating delicious looking food or being vain and serving looks. The shiny veneer of happiness that permeated my IG feed was carefully curated as I followed a combination of real life fri
ends, strangers with high vibrations, and badgalriri aka Robyn Fenty bka Rihanna.

  Most of my friends would give me so much shit if they knew just how enthralled with her Instagram feed I was. It was a carefully crafted hodgepodge of candid family memories, selfies, promotional posts and the occasional pop culture moment. Robyn Fenty’s Instagram just made me incredibly happy and I didn’t care to know why. The first photo I saw was actually one of hers, a throwback photo from when she first came on the scene as a fresh faced, long weaved Bajan beauty. I kept scrolling and got to a photo of Pete and his wife Chanté looking hella fancy with the caption “Out here celebrating the boss man’s wedding with wifey #meettheparkers”. Curiosity got the best of me, so I decided to click that hashtag to see what unfortunate young lady Robert Parker, Jacob’s older brother, had fooled into marrying him. Most of the photos in the hashtag were of guests or the decor, none of the bride and groom, so I decided to hop on over to Facebook to see if they were using the same hashtag there so I could be nosey.

  Logging onto Facebook, the first post I saw was the picture of Pete and Chanté from Insta, with a few more added in an album that Pete was tagged in. I didn’t recognize the name of the person that tagged Pete, but luckily their profile was open so I was able to see the entire album of photos. I clicked through picture after picture of pegroes in various shades of white until I finally came upon a photo of the bride and my stomach dropped. There in — as much as I hated to admit it — an absolutely gorgeous wedding gown was Becky with the Sparse Edges. The gown was stunning, a princess silhouette, with a deep vee neckline that managed to look sophisticated as it cinched at the waist and flared into a full skirt. She ruined that beautiful gown with makeup that looked like it was the last call for alcohol and her weave looked as dry and uneven as usual.

  Sham-fucking-wow. A mere three months after ghosting me, Jacob was married. I kept clicking, obsessively now, searching for photos of them together. I needed to see tangible proof that he was happy and she was The One. I needed proof that the connection we had shared was a lie and I was just a piece of ass. I needed to know that everything I felt was one-sided and shame on me for giving my heart to a careless man. I needed to see him looking at her like she was the last rib on the plate and he was a man starved. I clicked through about thirty pictures before I saw one of the newlyweds together. They must have just cut the cake because there was Jacob with frosting on his nose and an annoyed scowl. Becky’s face held a wan smile, a hint of a crack in their shiny veneer of happiness. I kept clicking until I reached the end of the album.

  From there I hopped over to Jacob’s page to see the both of them tagged in a shit ton of photos. The wedding actually took place at the Parker estate, mere hours ago. While I sat around eating tacos and drinking wine, my most recent ex was marrying the love of his…wait a minute. One of the photos that they were tagged in was captioned “Congrats on baggin’ a baddie, cuz. Next time remember, first comes marriage…” In the photo, Jacob was standing next to Becky in front of the crowd, a microphone in one hand and the other gently resting on her stomach as she leaned into him. The smile on her face this time was genuine.

  I exited Facebook, navigating to the Face Time app. Dev hated unannounced Face Time requests, but she was going to have to make an exception today because holy shit. As I waited for the call to connect, I felt myself tensing up again. The calm that previously emanated through me thanks to a little herbal remedy had completely left the building. I felt my breathing get shallow and started feeling a little lightheaded. As soon as the Face Time call connected, Devorah opened her mouth to say something smart, but pulled up immediately. I tried speaking, but no sounds would come out. My throat felt like it was completely sealed shut, breathing becoming increasingly harder. On the other end of the video chat, Devorah was freaking out.

  “Cel…what’s wrong?”

  I tried to speak, but instead hiccupped on air. Every time I tried to get words out, I felt as if my esophagus was being squeezed tighter and tighter. My breaths were coming in short puffs now.

  “Celena! Hey…focus. Come on. You got this. In through the nose; out through the mouth, babe. Relax, take your time…” Devorah said in a soothing voice.

  I closed my eyes, concentrating on the dulcet tones of Dev’s voice as she talked me through a deep breathing exercise. It took about five minutes before I felt as if my throat was free of the blockage and I tried to speak. I opened my eyes and realized that Devorah had gotten in her car and was driving.

  “I’m coming back. I feel like you need me. Do you need me?”

  I simply nodded.

  “Okay, sis. I’m on my way. You want me to stay on with you til I get there?”

  My breathing was under control now and the elephant that was sitting on my chest had moved, so I felt like I could answer her verbally now. Before I was able to get a single word out, I bursting into tears.

  “He…it’s a…pregnant…wedding and a baby,” I said, between sobs.

  “Well well well, if it isn’t the prodigal son?” my mother sighed, as I walked through the back door of her house.

  “Here you go,” I said, walking over to quickly embrace her, dropping a kiss on her temple.

  “I suppose I should be glad you finally remembered your old mama. Although I suspect it was more about you getting a good, home cooked meal than actually wanting to come over here and spend some time with me.”

  “Ma. Don’t start. You see me at least once a week for church. Where’s Granny?”

  “She’s napping. She had quite the eventful morning with Rosie while I ran my errands. Decided to wander off and ended up missing for more than three hours. Luckily Mr. Edwards from down the way saw her and brought her back here safely.”

  “Ma! Why didn’t anyone call me?”

  “For what, boy? You ain’t inside that crazy ass brain of hers. What would you have done? Besides you’re busy enough without having to take on our drama.”

  “Lady, if you don’t hush up. The entire reason I came back here was to help you with Granny. If this happens again…”

  “It won’t happen again, Reem. I’ll be looking after her a lil better this time,” Rose said, walking into the room.

  She looked stressed, her normal upbeat personality nowhere to be found as she gathered her items to leave. I’d known Rose since we were kids. Our grandmothers attended the same church and she was now my grandmother’s home health aide. She came by for a few hours daily while my mother invented errands that needed to be run when she really was off doing God knows what.

  “Again, I’m so sorry Miss Holt. I had just went to grab her water and left her alone on the porch for no more than a couple of minutes and…” Rose trailed off, lowering her head; shoulders slumping.

  My mother wiped her hand on the towel to the left of her and walked over to Rose, lifting her chin.

  “Hey, this isn’t your fault. That old woman is stubborn and a trickster. Wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t do this on purpose. Don’t get down on yourself too much, Rosie. Now we’ll see you next week, okay?”

  Rose nodded and made her way to the front of the house.

  “Ay Rose, hold up,” I said, trailing her to the front door.

  “I’m tired, Reem. Emotional day. What’s up?”

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay, for real. I know my mom just told you, but I wanted to reassure you that you did nothing wrong. Granny be tripping sometimes. You know how it is…”

  “What I know is that I shouldn’t have left her alone. She caught me slippin’, but never again. See ya later, Reem,” Rose said, crossing the threshold of the door to leave.

  I walked back into the kitchen, but my mom wasn’t there anymore. Moving quickly, I made my way to the stove where she’d been previously stirring a few pots. My nose didn’t deceive me; she had made my favorite meal—pot roast, candied yams, greens, and cornbread. I’d just swiped a fork to snag a taste of the greens when I felt a shift in the air behind me. I looked b
ack to see my mother’s hand coming to connect with the back of my head, but I ducked out of the way just in time.

  “Boy, how many times have I told you about eating directly out of my pots? I know I raised you better than that.”

  “Ma, chill.”

  “Did you bring the milk I asked you to pick up for your pie?”

  “It’s on the table. Carnation milk, right?”

  “Mmmhmmm,” my mother replied absentmindedly as she went over to the table to grab the milk.

  “My god Karim, evaporated milk is for the macaroni and cheese, I need sweetened condensed milk for the ice box pie.”

  “That’s what I got, ma!”

  “Are you saying I can’t read?”

  “No ma’am. But you told me—”

  “Check your texts, son, before you even continue to tell that lie. I said sweetened condensed and I even sent you a picture!”

  Scrolling through my text messages I see that she was absolutely correct. There in black and white were the words “Carnation sweetened condensed milk”. I went into the store trusting my memory to recall the can that was a staple of my childhood and I just picked up the first one that looked familiar without reading word the first.

  “Guess I’ll have to go back to the store…”

  “Or not have a pie,” my mother countered.

  That wasn’t an option. I’d had my mouth all set for this damn pie all week. I damn sure wasn’t going home without it.

  Since I had to go to the store anyway, my mother sent me with a list of items she and my grandmother needed to get through next week. Just a couple few things, Reem, she said, handing me a list of easily thirty or so items that were allegedly desperately needed. I grabbed a cart near the entrance of the store and began my journey through the aisles. When I walked into the aisle with all of the baking supplies, I came upon a familiar face. She stood in the middle of the aisle, intently examining a package of something that looked like flour, but I wasn’t totally sure.

  I took a second to just stare at her before she noticed I was there. Still bad as ever, her hair pulled up on top of her head in a haphazard bun, dressed down in yoga pants, some type of pink, funnel necked hoodie, and gym shoes. Those yoga pants were doing her ass all kinda of favors that had me sending up a quick prayer to whomever had a hand in crafting those curves.