Big Girls Drama

by Tresser Henderson

  “Exactly. It’s when a bunch of women get together and swap pieces of gently used clothing. I would invite women around our size and set a limit on the amount of clothing you can bring.”

  Monica mainly looked at Sonya probably because she would be the hardest one to convince.

  “I think it’s a great idea,” I agreed.

  “What if I don’t have clothes to swap?” Sonya asked.

  “You have clothes, Sonya, so stop playing. I’m pretty sure you can find several pieces you are willing to part with.”

  “I have been meaning to clean out my closet,” she said.

  “Fall is approaching. With the season getting ready to change, we can get rid of some items,” Monica stated.

  “Does it just have to be clothes?” Sonya asked.

  “No. We can add purses, scarves, jewelry, and shoes if you want to. It’s up to us. Just let me know.”

  “I think that’s fabulous. Lord knows I need to get rid of some shoes I have. I think I have a few pair with the tags still on them,” I said thinking of the massive collection of shoes I’d acquired over the years. Shoes and purses were my addiction. Well, that and food maybe.

  “What size shoe do you wear?” Sonya asked me.

  “I wear a size ten.”

  “I’m in,” Sonya blurted. “If the shoes you have on now are any indication of what your shoe game is like, I want to participate. You heifers have great style, so I would love to see what you want to part with.”

  I took Sonya calling me a heifer as a good thing because when my sisters and I did this, it was a sign of admiration. I think she liked me, and I liked her as well.

  “Did you have this little meeting now because Kellie is a bean stalk?” Sonya asked.

  “Yes and no. I would love for her to participate also. Maybe she can bring items other than clothes because none of us will be able to get into hers.”

  “You better call her and see where she is. We are not sitting here all day waiting on Ms. Thang to show up,” Sonya grumbled.

  “Let me call her.”

  Monica took out her cell and dialed Kellie while I looked over the menu to figure out what I wanted for lunch. It felt good to get out, and I have to say I was truly enjoying myself. I needed something to keep my mind distracted from thinking about my husband and what was going on with him.

  Kellie

  18

  “Play No Games” by Big Sean played in the background, and I thought it was fitting for the way I was feeling right now. Jeffrey was definitely playing games. I thought once I got married, the games would stop, but evidently, they haven’t. I felt like I worked for Hasbro or was at least the face of their games. For real, my marriage fell into many of their game categories. Let’s see, what about the game “Sorry,” because I was sorry I ever married this man. He was also real good at telling me how sorry he was for hurting me all the time. Or, “Risk,” which was what I took when I decided he would be the man I would spend the rest of my life with. Maybe “Clue” because I didn’t have a damn clue about the man he really was. Or perhaps “Bonkers,” because that’s how I’ve felt being married to him. How about “Trouble,” because that’s what he would be in if my doctor told me I couldn’t have children. I was still waiting on my results from the blood test and ultrasound. The longer I waited, the more stressed out I got. But right now, the best game would be “Guess Who,” because I was always guessing who was going to be the next woman he would betray me for. But who knew men were part of the equation as well?

  Anger simmered within me as I remained on hold waiting for my call to be the next one taken by an XM radio station I listen to quite often. I never was one to chime in on things like this because I thought it was putting too much of your personal business in the street, but today, I didn’t care because today’s subject was fitting for my current situation.

  My phone beeped. I pulled it away from my face to see Monica was calling me. She was probably checking to see where I was because I was late. I couldn’t answer her right now with me waiting to be the next caller. I thought it was my brother checking on me. When I left, he was still asleep in the guest bedroom. I told him about the lunch with my friends last night, but he decided to pass on it this time. I knew he was still tired from that drive here and knew that was the reason why he decided not to join us.

  “You are the next caller in queue,” the automated voice said as my heart sped up awaiting the radio DJ to pick up.

  “Caller, can I ask your name please and where you are calling from?” a voice said.

  I was caught off guard. I didn’t want to give my real name. Bad enough I was even making this call, but to give my name . . . I had to think of one quick.

  “Caller, are you there?”

  “Yes. Betty,” I said, giving a false name. “My name is Betty, and I’m calling from North Carolina.”

  Of all the names I could think of, I thought of Betty. I had an aunt named Betty, who I loved dearly, but nowadays, no one named their child Betty. Hell, my aunt was the only Betty I knew.

  “Okay, Betty,” he said in a tone like he knew I made the name up on the spot. “What are some red flags that your significant other is cheating?”

  “Would you call getting an STD a sign of him cheating?” I said as I pulled up in a space at the restaurant.

  “Whoa!” rang out as the sound effects on the other end sounded like a studio audience gasping at my revelation.

  “That’s a huge red flag if I ever saw one. Am I wrong to believe it was you who got this STD?” the DJ asked.

  Silence from my end. Should I continue to talk about this? Would anyone recognize my voice? What in the world was I thinking? I never should have called in on this subject. I really didn’t think this thing through.

  “Caller?”

  “Yes,” I said nervously. “You would be correct. I was the one who got burned. As you can tell, it’s hard to talk about.”

  “I can see why. Can I ask who gave you this STD?”

  “My husband,” I answered tersely.

  “Damn” sound effect rang out before the DJ spoke again.

  “Wow, this just keeps getting worse, my sister.”

  “Who are you telling?” I mumbled.

  “Are you still with him?”

  “I actually kicked him out last night when I caught some man sucking on his—”

  “Whoa . . .” the DJ stopped me. “This is a very respectable show.”

  Laughter rang out like it was a joke before he continued to talk.

  “So, not only did you get an STD, you caught your man with another man?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you know your husband was gay or bisexual?”

  “Not at all. I’m still trying to understand this myself. Is something wrong with me that I didn’t see my own husband had a thing for men?”

  “Yo, this is crazy. You caught me off guard with this one.”

  “Try being in my shoes,” I retorted.

  “No, thank you, sweetheart. But let me ask you this. Do you still love him?”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “Do you guys plan on working it out?”

  “Right now, I don’t want to. He’s hurt me too many times.”

  “The fact you said ‘right now’ is an indication there is still a chance. If this man has cheated on you once, and I’m pretty sure this is not his first time, he’s going to do it again. You really need to protect yourself. Men like him don’t change. I know my audience is going to be mad at me for saying this, but that’s what I believe. You getting this STD and catching him with another man should be your wake-up call, sweetie. The next time he could bring you something that could affect your health permanently,” the radio personality said. “Once a cheater, always a cheater.”

  Clapping sound effects rang out as I thought about how my health may already be permanently affected, and this caused tears to form.

  “Caller, think of yourself enough to divorce this man. You a
re worth more than you give yourself credit. Good luck to you and thank you for calling.”

  I hung up still listening as the DJ took the next caller who was another female who wanted to chime in.

  “Caller, give us your name and where you’re calling from.”

  “My name is Sydelle, and I’m calling from North Carolina too.”

  “Okay. You from the same state our last caller is from. North Carolina on fire tonight.”

  How ironic was this I thought as I listened to the DJ continue.

  “Caller, what’s your red flag?”

  “I was calling about that last chick that was on the line. She needs to leave that man.”

  “We think so too caller, but why is that any of your concern? We wanted you to give us other signs, not talk about what another female needs to do,” the DJ responded.

  I thought the same thing, getting angry at the woman that didn’t know me. I guess this was one of the consequences of me calling in.

  “Okay. You want a red flag. I am the red flag,” the caller declared boldly.

  “What do you mean?” the DJ asked.

  “I’m usually the other woman.”

  “Oh really?” the DJ’s voice perked up as I gasped at this woman’s admission.

  “Uh-huh. Every man I’m with is married.”

  “So, I take it you are sleeping with these married men?” the DJ asked.

  “You damn right I am. I only sleep with married men,” the woman divulged shamelessly.

  “Why do you choose to only sleep with married men?”

  “Because it’s easy. Yes, they hit it then quit it. I get mine. They get theirs, and they get the hell up out of my place when we done.”

  “So you just getting your rocks off?” the DJ asked.

  “That and I’m hitting them pockets up too. Do you take me for a fool?”

  “Well . . .” the DJ said and laughing effects sounded.

  “I like sex, and I like nice things, and these men can provide both for me.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I looked at the radio like the image of this woman was going to pop up on my radio. I thought she could very well be one of the women my husband had slept with, and this frightened me. It sounded like his type . . . uneducated but willing to spread her legs for whoever could afford her. The audacity of this woman to admit to sleeping with only married men for her own pleasure and rewards. Then I wondered if Jeffrey might have paid for sex or even given lavish gifts as a thank-you for services rendered. I continued to listen as the conversation progressed.

  “What have you received from these men?” the DJ asked.

  “I got one paying the note on my brand-new condo. I got one keeping me in the best designer clothes his money can buy. I had one buy me the new Range Rover I’m driving. Plus, I got mad cash in the bank. I’m living the perfect life,” this woman said, like she was proud of her achievements.

  “You don’t see this as morally wrong?” the DJ asked.

  “Why should I? I’m not the one who’s married. They are. I didn’t say vows to no one. If they want to risk their souls going to hell, then that’s on them. I’m just a woman who’s reaping the rewards.”

  “You know you are coming off as a prostitute, right?”

  “Call me a businesswoman.”

  “Again, prostitute,” the DJ affirmed.

  “That’s your opinion, and trust me, I’ve been called worse. The fact still remains my bank account is fat, and my life is great.”

  “That’s all well and good, but it looks like you need to be worrying about your soul being damned to hell also, sweetie. Somebody who claims life is great all the time is lying to themselves. There’s a reason why you do what you do. Just from this conversation, I hear a woman who doesn’t value herself, much less love herself,” the DJ emphasized.

  “Please, I love me some me.”

  “Then stop cheapening yourself by playing hooker and spreading your thighs for all these men.”

  “I’m not a hooker,” she yelled.

  “I’ll say a prayer for you, caller, since you think what you are doing is okay. I can see that’s the only thing that’s going to help you.”

  The DJ disconnected the call as I sat in my ride thinking about what this woman said. I didn’t know what I was going to do about my marriage. My head was telling me to file for divorce on Monday, but my heart still had love for Jeffrey. Why couldn’t he be faithful and love me like he promised? I guess that was too much to ask. Men cheat on all kinds. Look at Halle Barry.

  Vivian

  19

  Sonya felt like we’d waited long enough and suggested we all order our food. I was with Sonya, because I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten anything all day as I looked forward to this lunch. Breakfast was not a meal I like to eat often, which was why I probably was gaining weight. I knew breakfast was the most important meal of the day and got my metabolism started to burn calories, but I still couldn’t manage to fit it in.

  I ordered a turkey sandwich with provolone with roasted tomatoes and pickles and a side of sweet potato fries. Sonya order braised beef ribs with a mixed green salad, and Monica ordered a chicken salad sandwich with a mixed green salad. It seemed like as soon as our food was placed on the table, Sonya saw Kellie approaching.

  “Speak of the devil,” Sonya said, and I turned to see a very attractive woman approaching our table.

  “Hey, ladies. Sorry I’m late.”

  “It’s about time you got here,” Monica quipped as she stood to hug who I figured was Kellie. She spoke to Sonya, but there were no hugs for her as she sat across from me and beside Sonya.

  “We went ahead and ordered our food. Nobody wanted to wait on you all day,” Sonya said.

  “I understand. I didn’t expect for you to wait for me,” she replied, hanging her purse on the back of her chair.

  “Kellie, this is Vivian,” Monica introduced.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” she said smiling.

  She was definitely not a plus-size sister. She wasn’t even in the double digits. And to say she was beautiful was an understatement.

  “Are you trying to show us up?” Sonya asked Kellie.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, pushing back her luscious curls from her face.

  Kellie was rocking a pair of white deconstructed jeans with a yellow peplum top with mesh over the shoulders and around her very toned midsection. A pair of nude heels completed her look. I knew she had to be no bigger than a 7/8.

  “It’s not bad enough you’re younger than us and skinnier than us, but you come in here looking fly as hell too?” Sonya admonished.

  “Please, I’m not looking all that.”

  “This coming from the ultimate diva,” Sonya quipped.

  “You know I’m not like that,” Kellie said. “You’re going to have Vivian thinking I’m some stuck-up woman.”

  “You are.”

  “Sonya!” Kellie belted.

  “Okay. You’re not. I’m just playing.”

  “Thank you,” Kellie said, giggling.

  “But you do look nice with your skinny ass.”

  “So do y’all, looking all fabulous. You calling me skinny, you know I want to gain some weight, but I can’t,” Kellie said. “The more I eat, the more I lose.”

  “I knew there was a reason why I hated this wench,” Sonya uttered.

  “You know you love me,” Kellie said, leaning over, hugging Sonya playfully. All Sonya did was roll her eyes as she placed a piece of rib into her mouth.

  “I wish I had that problem,” I chimed in, picking up my glass of water and taking a sip from it.

  “Me too. I can just look at food and gain twenty pounds,” Monica added.

  “Ladies, please don’t hate,” Kellie said.

  “We don’t hate you, but we do hate the fact you can eat whatever you want to and not gain an ounce,” Monica countered.

  “I second that,” Vivian said.

  “Enough about me, lad
ies. I see you ordered my favorite for me,” Kellie said, looking at the mango Mojito Monica order for herself and Kellie. “I need some alcohol in my life. Especially after the stressful days I’ve had,” Kellie exclaimed.

  Sonya gave Monica a knowing look, and Monica’s expression let Sonya know to leave this alone, but it was quickly ignored.

  “So what do you need a drink for?” Sonya asked.

  Before Kellie had an opportunity to answer, a waitress came over to our table and took Kellie’s lunch order. She decided to order a burger with the works and a side of sweet potato fries. When the waitress left to retrieve her food, Kellie picked up where she left off.

  “I don’t think I have the heart to tell you guys what’s been going on with me without getting liquored up first,” Kellie expressed as she picked up her Mojito and gulped it down until nothing was left.

  “It’s that bad?” Sonya asked, looking at her with a scowl. “Maybe we should have ordered you two.”

  “How about four?” Kellie groaned.

  “So spill it,” Sonya told Kellie not wasting any time.

  “Dang, Sonya. Can I get another drink down first?”

  “No.”

  We all chuckled as Kellie looked at all of us. Her mood quickly changed as her eyes began to fill with tears.

  “Kellie, no. Please don’t cry,” Monica consoled.

  I reached over and took Kellie’s hand into mine, not knowing what else I should do. She squeezed it as she smiled weakly, and I was glad I could comfort her in this way.

  “It’s me and Jeffrey, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “Stop it, Sonya,” Monica scolded.

  Sonya picked up her drink and looked on for Kellie to continue.

  “Remember I told you guys Jeffrey has been cheating on me?”

  The ladies nodded as I listened because I didn’t know about anything going on.

  “Well, I went to the doctor because I was having some abdominal pain. Come to find out I have an STD.”

  I think all of our mouths fell open at her admission. Kellie dropped her head in shame as two tears finally managed to stream down her cheeks.

  “I’m so sorry, Kellie,” I said, not knowing what else to say in this case.