Flip Side of the Game

by Tu-Shonda L. Whitaker

  “Wha–wha–wha?” he stuttered.

  “Yeah, remember you came to let me know that you were now the head of the neighborhood crime watch?”

  “Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah!”

  Oh, I got your “oh, yeah” mu’fucker! Then I leaned to the side, threw my hip around in the tight-ass chair, and crossed my legs. To make the situation worse, I turned back toward my table, called Shannon, and invited her to come and bask in the glow.

  “What’s up, girl?” Shannon said as she kissed me on the cheek. Shannon only lived around the corner, so she arrived in less than five minutes.

  “Is that who I think it is?” Shannon asked, tight-lipped. “Sho’ly is.”

  “What the hell is going on here?” Shannon asked, seeming amused.

  “Roberta,” I said, “this is my friend. I was just telling her that you’ve been married to—what’s his name again? Oh, yeah, Roger—for thirty-one years today.”

  “Congratulations!” Shannon said enthusiastically. “Wonderful. It’s not often you see a nice couple married for so long. So, tell me,” Shannon asked, winking her eye at Roger. “What’s your secret?”

  “Love, honesty, and commitment,” Roberta bragged, lying her ass off. “And friendship. There is nothing I don’t know about my husband, and vice versa.”

  Yeah, right. “That’s wonderful,” I said. “Are you ladies married?”

  “No,” Shannon responded. “I’m scared my husband would be a cheat.”

  “Don’t worry about those things. As long as you keep your man happy at home, he will have no reason to stray. And who knows? Maybe one day you young ladies will find someone just as special as my booga bear!”

  Booga bear? Who is she fooling with her sad eyes and fake-ass smile? This huzzy must think I’m stupid. Please, I do believe I’ll take my red velvet cake to go.

  On the way out, I tapped Roberta on the shoulder and wished her good luck.

  Ten minutes later, my cell phone rang. “Hello?”

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Roger said, blaring in my ear.

  “Fuck you, Roger!”

  “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

  “Oh, no? Was I dreaming?”

  “No. She heard me making reservations and she thought that I made them for her and me! What was I going to say? I had to take her. I had no choice.”

  “Look, this situation between us doesn’t seem to be working out.”

  “Don’t be like that, Vera!”

  “What did I just say?”

  “Let me make it up to you.”

  “How is that?”

  “Manolo is having a sale.”

  “Shoes? You think you can make this up with shoes?”

  “Okay, name it. What?”

  “Nothing! We are done! Get it? Good-bye!”

  I was pissed off, confused, and I felt guilty as hell. The truth is, I only snuck my ass to lunch because I was trying to run away from my feelings for Taj, and I only ended up running closer to him, because seeing Roger with his wife only made me want Taj even more.

  I didn’t know why I was running. I just I felt like I wanted to place my emotions on an airplane and run away with them. And where was I running to? I didn’t know, especially when all of my needs, wants, and desires pointed toward Taj. I found myself looking for Taj in everything that I did. If I bought something to eat, I got enough for the both of us. If I bought something to wear, I wondered what he’d think. If I heard something funny, I savored the humor, as if I was holding my breath, and then I exhaled when I saw him, hopped in his lap, and told him what the joke was, and he just looked at me.

  Something in his eyes smiled when I sat on his lap and lay in his arms. I felt safe, the same way I used to feel when Uncle Boy would hold my hand or take me to the park. At the same time, it was different because I outgrew Uncle Boy holding me, but I never wanted to let Taj go. I really couldn’t deal with this.

  Just then the phone rang. It was Roger.

  “Vera,” Roger said, “don’t hang up, please. I’m really sorry about the other day. Please let me make it up to you.”

  “Spare me.”

  “Look, I fucked up, but come on, baby, just one more chance, please.”

  “Just this one time, Roger, but no more after this.”

  Two seconds after I said that, the doorbell rang. Roger was standing on my stoop, as if he had been sitting in front of my house waiting for me to invite him in.

  Roger tried to kiss me when he walked in the door and handed me five hundred dollars. I nicely pushed him away and gave the money back to him.

  “I’m cool,” I said. “I don’t want to be bothered with that anymore. Keep your money.”

  “Come on, baby,” he said, running his hands across my breast.

  “Would you get off of me?” I said, walking away and sitting on the couch.

  “What’s the problem, Vera?”

  “There’s no problem. I’m just not feeling you like that.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. You know what? Go home, Roger. Don’t you have a wife and four kids? Go and see about them.”

  “You never worried about my wife and kids before.”

  “Well, things change and people change. I don’t want to be with you anymore. I’m okay where I’m at.” I stood up and he pushed me back down, trying to climb on top of me.

  “So that’s it?” he said. “We’re done?”

  “Roger, you are married. This shit couldn’t go on forever! Now, get up!”

  He pressed his chest deep into mine and pushed the hardness of his lower body into my abdomen and against my thighs.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I said, trying to push him off of me.

  “Fuck you!” Roger said, getting off of me. “I’m sick of you, you tramp-ass ho!”

  “Whatever! Just get yo’ shit and just leave!”

  “Get my shit? You got a tow truck for the house, the car, and everything else around here that I bought?”

  “If you don’t stop talking stupid, I will hurt you. Now, get the fuck out and don’t ever come back!”

  “Oh, bitch, you gonna see me again!” Then he got up and left.

  Immediately I jumped in the shower. I didn’t want to smell like Roger when Taj came over.

  I felt guilty when I saw Taj come through the door, and at that moment, I swore I would never see Roger again.

  “What’s wrong, Vera?” Taj asked as soon as he walked in the door and threw his stethoscope on the sofa. “What’s the problem?”

  “Who said I had a problem?”

  “Your vibe. I saw the way you looked when I walked in here. Now, what’s up?”

  “I don’t have a problem.”

  “Oh, here we go,” he said, sitting down next to me. He placed my feet in his lap and started giving me a foot massage.

  I snatched my feet away and placed them back on the floor. “Here we go?” I said. “Oh, so you really wanna know the problem?” I snapped. “This shit is the problem!”

  “What shit?”

  “This love situation between you and me.”

  “Oh, so that’s it,” he said, bending down and untying his sneakers.

  “What’s it?” I asked.

  “Love?”

  Love? Did he hear me say love? Did I say love? Well, maybe I did, but the more I was with Taj, the more I thought about Rowanda and starting over again, and having more emotion toward her than despise and disgust.

  “I just can’t take all of this closeness and you being in my personal space all the time!” I screamed out of frustration and anger. Goddamnit, what was going on? Loving this man was like an innate need to coexist with the silver lining of a dream, and the shit wasn’t normal. What would happen when he left? He was going to leave, we all know that, but what would happen to me?

  “Why do you keep pushing this love situation between us?” I said.

  “There it goes again. You said love.”

  “All right
, I said love! Dammit! Love.”

  “Oh, so you admit it?”

  “Admit what?”

  “That you love me?”

  “Wait a minute. Let me clear this up. I never said that I loved you.”

  “Oh, so you don’t love me?” he said with a look that said he felt anything but the opposite of his question.

  “I don’t even know how to be in love. Please, I have told so many niggas that I love them, just to get some shoes, a bag, a house, a car, a bank account. Hell, even a college and cosmetology degree. I have said I love you so much that I don’t even know what it means. Hell, what is love anyway? Just a name?”

  “Okay, now whatever that was you just said is done and over with. Get to the real shit, because I’m listening. And another thing, I’m getting a little tired of the tough girl routine. So you,” he said, pointing, “better catch yourself! And another thing,” he said before I could respond. “Did you go to lunch with Roger the other day?”

  “No.” I said, praying that he couldn’t tell I was lying.

  “Are you telling me the truth, Vera?”

  “What did I just say? Why would I lie? Stop sweatin’ me about that shit!”

  “Sweatin’ you? Why are you so defensive? Let me find out that you met Roger for lunch and see what happens.”

  “And what’s going to happen?”

  “I’ma leave your fuckin’ ass, plain and simple.”

  I was two seconds away from slapping the shit out of him. “Who are you talking to?”

  He looked around the room, with his arrogant-ass, and said, “Do you happen to see someone else in here?”

  “Oh, so, you’re being smart?”

  “Sometimes it’s hard to tell whether I’m being smart or being stupid! The way you act at times, you’ll make somebody hurt you.”

  “Ooooh, so now,” I said, twisting my face, “you wanna hurt me? How could you love someone you wanna hurt?”

  “Your mouth is what will make someone want to hurt you. But since you seem to be in dire need to change the subject, and you want to know why I love you, I’ll tell you. I love you because every time I think, every time I breathe, I want it to be with you. I love being around you, the joy that you bring, the excitement of your spirit. I love you because the love you have for me is straight the hell up, and you’re not trying to be with me just because you hit a gold mine, because if the truth be told, you haven’t asked me for jack!”

  “So, what does that mean? And another thing, your li’l punk-ass reason for love is weak! Because if I loved you, it would be because I’ve never met anyone like you, I’ve never felt the challenge of the heart, and being with you makes me think about brand new beginnings. And yes, I gotta thing for you! And yes, I no longer just like you, I’m straight feeling you, but so the fuck what? I’m still not committing to you.”

  “You know what, baby? I just figured it out,” he said. “I need to give you exactly what you’ve been asking for, time and space. I’m not the one, sweetheart. I have less problems in the hospital emergency room than I have with you. When you grow up, call me. Until then, remember your little don’t-hate-the-player-hate-the-game line, and be sure to apply it to yourself!” He picked up his running Nikes, slipped them on his feet, threw on his throwback jersey, and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to give you some time. You’re not ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “For me.”

  “You haven’t even given me a chance,” I heard myself saying, which was the complete opposite of what I meant to say, which was “Kiss my ass.”

  “I give you a chance every day, Vera. Give me a minute to think. This shit is too much!”

  He slammed the door when he left, and my three-hundred-dollar silk pillows ended up getting tear stains after all.

  But this time, I couldn’t let him go. I ran through the living room and snatched the front door open. He was standing on the front stoop.

  “Look Taj,” I said, breathing heavy and out of breath. “I’ll try, okay? I’ll try.”

  Step Six

  The gossip hour/book club meeting with the girls was exactly what I needed. I hadn’t spent any quality time with them since Lee blew up Pastor James’s spot. Shannon insisted that we have the meeting at her house, although we had no book to discuss.

  “You were layin’ it down, girlfriend. Seems like Roger couldn’t deal,” Shannon insisted, while sucking the ice cream off her spoon.

  “Seems like it,” Angie insisted. “His ass was pussy whipped!”

  “You three are about as educated as tramps can be,” Lee said, adding her two cents in.“You shouldn’t be messing with nobody’s husband anyway!”

  “Lets not forget,” I reminded Miz Thing, “people in glass houses, et cetera, et cetera.”

  “Nowadays,” Shannon said, cutting me off, “it’s hard to find a man that will give up the dick with no strings attached.”

  “No you didn’t,” I insisted. “How long have I been telling you that? Men are not like they used to be.”

  “I know,” Shannon agreed. “Now, they’re the ones that want a commitment and want to be in relationships.”

  “You see where I’m going with this, right?”

  “I feel you, girlfriend,” Angie said. “My ex-husband still trying to get back with me.”

  “Oh, no he’s not!” I said.

  “Yes, he is, but I told him hell no. Stay in L.A. and take care of Bey-Bey and the rest of the get-along gang. Just send me my alimony check!”

  “A high five to that! I’m wit’ you, girlfriend.” Shannon laughed.

  “Well, girls,” Shannon continued, “I have to admit something to you.”

  “Bitch, you better not be pregnant. You know that pregnant shit is contagious!” Angie screamed.

  “Don’t be stupid! Quincy is going to be moving in with me.”

  Did this heifer just say Quincy? Shannon and Quincy were Aunt Cookie and Uncle Boy in the making. Every other goddamn week they were in love, and in between those times, she couldn’t stand his ass. Too much drama, if you ask me. I told her a long time ago to fuck him and keep it movin’, but nevertheless, here we went again.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I had to know.

  “Nothing is wrong with me, I just figured that Quincy is good for me.”

  “Weren’t you just talking about how you can’t find dick with no strings attached?” I snapped. “What did he do so great this week that makes you wanna live with him?”

  “First of all, Miss Dick Hound, I owe you no explanation as to why I want my man living with me. Nobody has said anything to you about your undercover brother and your in-house dick! You ain’t slick, and I don’t know about you, but I’m thirty-one and will soon be thirty-two. Folks can hear my biological clock ticking all the way in Afghanistan. And yes, I still believe that you can’t find decent dick with no strings attached, but that ain’t got shit to do with Quincy.”

  “Are you crazy, Shannon?” Angie snapped. “I’ve been married, and believe me, there’s no way you wanna look at the same goddamn man every day,” she slurred, as if saying the words made her tired. “Trust me. Men get comfortable. Either they think you’re their mama or they feel their yo’ daddy. Men take breastfeeding to a whole ’nother level!”

  “Well,” Lee interjected, “I don’t see anything wrong with commitment. All men are not alike.”

  “You’re sure right,” I said. “Some are nice, but dumb as hell, and some are smart, but just irk the shit outta you!”

  “Amen,” Angie said. “And some are sweet in bed, but jacked up in the head, and some have it straight in the head, but jacked up in the bed.”

  “See, Angie,” I said, “you get my point.”

  “Mm-hmm, and when you are dealing with the fine descendants of the Zulu, Ashanti, Ibo, Yoruba, tight packer, loose packer, and Chicken George tribes, it requires lots of emotionally filled time.”


  “Time I don’t have,” Angie said.

  “Well, I do,” Shannon said, “and I think that living with Quincy is the best decision that I can make for my future.”

  “Well, do you, boo, ’cause I’m sick of the mu’fuckers myself. I can’t find a decent man to save my goddamn life.”

  “Shannon,” Lee said, “I thought you said Angie had a profile online.”

  “Oh, no you didn’t, bitch!” Angie screamed. “I told you not to say anything!”

  “I only told Lee,” Shannon said, “and Vera, but that was it. I didn’t tell anybody else. So, you may as well tell them what went down. I was too embarrassed to let the shit out myself.”

  “All right,” Angie said, rolling her eyes. “Y’all know I ain’t had no dick in months, since the episode with the li’l twenty-year-old at the ice cream parlor. So, needless to say, I been lonely as hell, and I figured, fuck it. It’s 2004, the new millennium. I’ll try and date online. Plus I figured I was equipped, being that I have a few degrees in men.”

  “What degree? O.P.P.?” I said, laughing.

  “Fuck you Vera. I don’t do that shit anymore.”

  “Well, what other degrees in men do you have?” I asked.

  “I have Dog-ology,” she responded. “Cheatin’-ology, and Busted-ology also. Then there’s the I’m-sorry-ology, and the No, I don’t want to get back together-ology, and some of these I have earned two or three times.”

  “Damn, and I thought I was bad,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Anyway,” she continued, “I chatted online with all kinds of men, but there was this one that captured my attention. He lived here in Brooklyn and was self-employed. My only worry with meeting him online was that he might’ve been fat. Lord knows I can’t deal with no fat man, especially since I’ve got my own set of chubby-like problems.”

  “Would you tell the story?” Shannon said.

  “All right, well, after a few chats and one telephone conversation, I thought Daddy-O.com seemed pretty trustworthy, so we set a date and agreed to meet at Soul Café. I was so excited to be going out that I wore my best one-piece strapless bra and girdle combo, my apple green chiffon halter top dress, and my Cinderella high heel mules. Daddy-O.com and I—Eugene was actually his name—decided to meet in the parking lot before going in to have dinner.