by Candice Dow
Fatima assumed I’d just become a more punctual person as I rushed her out of the house each morning. I think it has finally registered that I have a life too. I sat on the bed as she stood in the bathroom mirror complaining about the hair on her face that no one can see.
Five minutes passed and now I stood at the bathroom door. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“It would be faster if you just shaved.”
Her eyes opened wider. “Are you saying that I have that much hair?”
“No, I’m saying that it would be quicker if you shave. You’re picking at nothing. Soon you’ll be pulling off skin.”
“I know what I feel.”
“I know what I see. I think it’s just become a nervous habit.”
“You don’t have to worry about it, so you don’t care.”
I slouched on the door. “Fatima, if it bothers you that bad, why don’t you do something about it?”
“I am.”
“Something more permanent, like laser or electrolysis.”
“So, you do see it?”
“No, I see the time you waste picking at invisible hair. So, if it will save you twenty minutes a day, I think you should go for it.”
“You’re so punctual now. You make me sick.”
She gathered her things and rushed out of the bathroom. Her eyes were dark from lack of sleep and her body was getting slimmer every day. I sympathized with her because she had committed herself to be a one-man show at work. I prayed that one day I could relieve her of that burden. One day soon, she’d only have to work if she wanted to.
Before we left the house, she asked, “Are you going to that party tonight?”
“Are you?”
“Mya said that everyone who’s anyone should be there and that you should go.”
“What about you?”
Her face sagged. “I can’t. I have too much work. It will be another late one.”
I hugged her and she leaned her head into my chest. I stroked her back with silent apologies.
After putting an exhausted Fatima into the taxi, I headed over to the house. When I got there, the electrician sat outside.
I asked, “No one’s in there?”
“Nah, I’ve been here for thirty minutes.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I figured you were on your way.”
As we headed into the house, I told him, “Look, call me if you get here and no one’s here.”
The contractors also had a key and are scheduled to be here every morning by seven-thirty. As I wondered what the holdup could have been this morning, the team straggled in. The lead guy said, “What’s up, Rash?”
While checking my watch, I said, “Nothing man. What’s going on?”
“Yeah, we’re running a little late this morning, but it’s not every day.”
I just nodded, because it wasn’t as if their lateness delayed anything. In fact, they were ahead of schedule and had done a hell of a job so far. In less than three months, the place had been transformed into the castle I dreamed of.
Whenever I stepped into the house, it seemed that another room was completed or framed. I walked through the house and checked out the new installments and rechecked everything else.
The renovations ran so smoothly, I began to believe that I could purchase two or three homes a year. Within two years, I would be living large and be a ballin’ actor, instead of a starving one. It amazed me how easily it was to rent out the apartments. People would literally walk up to the contractors asking when it would be done and if I were renting out rooms. I had four applicants lined up to move in and ten on the waiting list if anything fell through. If I had known three years ago, I would be King of New York by now. Then on the other hand, I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of meeting my Teem.
I brought Fatima dinner at work before heading to the networking party of the year. When I got there, she looked at me and her eyes watered.
“What’s wrong?”
“You look so good and I have to let you go to this party alone.”
“Teem, leave this stuff for tomorrow. It will be here.”
“But look at me.”
“You look fine. You’ll just be the classy lady among all the trashy ones.”
We laughed and she said, “I really can’t. Aside from all of this work, I’m sleepy. I don’t know where I’ll get the energy from.”
“We’ll get you a Red Bull and I’ll give you all the extra energy you need.”
“What are you going to do if I fall out at the party?”
“You’re not going to fall out.” After looking into her weary eyes, I changed my mind. “Okay, let me stop stressing you. When are you leaving?”
“In about an hour.”
“Do you want me to stay here with you?”
“If you stay, it will take me longer than an hour. So, go on and go to your little party. I’ll just be here, working.”
I pried myself from her office and headed downtown to the party. When I walked in, I searched for Mya. At least I could have a piece of Fatima if she couldn’t be here. After going up and down the stairs aimlessly, I decided to relax in the cut.
When I saw a chick that I used to date, I tried looking in the opposite direction. She walked up to me.
“Hey, Rashad.”
I said, “Hey…”
“Deneen.”
I knew her name but I wanted to knock her off her high-horse. She blushed. “So, what have you been up to?”
“Nothing much.”
“Well, you look good.”
“You, too.”
“How’s the acting career going?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “What about you?”
“Good. Work is picking up.”
A year and a half ago, I thought this girl was the hottest thing in the city. As she stood in front of me selling herself, I just wanted her to disappear.
She rocked in front of me. I stood still. She continued to talk, “You are so handsome.”
I chuckled. Now I’m handsome. When I was sending her flowers and begging to take her out, she wasn’t interested. I looked at all the other fake chicks at the party and shook my head. It’s hard to tell the real from the fake. Despite all of Fatima’s requirements, I know she’s real.
“What are you doing later?” she asked.
“Ah, I have to meet my girl.”
Her dancing came to a complete halt. Her eyes opened wider. “Oh, Okay.”
Trying not to come across too harsh, I asked, “What are you doing later?”
She shrugged her shoulders and walked away shortly after. Why do women think they can always use their sex appeal to get you? I walked through the club, trying to see if I recognized anybody. After shaking hands with a few of my colleagues, I gathered that this was a networking event for starving actors to network with starving actors. Neither Mya nor any of her director friends were anywhere to be found. Maybe they were in VIP. If I can’t get to the important people, what the hell is the purpose? Since my heart really wasn’t in the club, but all the way in Harlem, I called Fatima to see if she was home yet. When I told her I was on my way, she asked, “What about the party?”
“I’d rather be with you.”
Scene 37
FATIMA
What else can I do with my life? My heart used to be so deep into this job that it was all I thought about. As I sit here on hump day, counting the seconds to Friday, I’m wracking my brain with other possibilities. With one elbow propped on my desk and my hand on my head, I gazed out of the window.
When Kia buzzed and disturbed my daydream, I asked her to take a message. She agreed, but buzzed again. I didn’t respond, so she came to my doorway. “Who is it?”
“It’s Rashad. He said that it would be quick.”
Suddenly, he became the target of my frustration. If I wasn’t giving him the money that Derrick left me to live off, I could quit. Why should I be m
iserable working while he walks around like a king getting paid for love? When I picked up, his calm voice settled my anxiety. “Teem.”
“Yes, Rashad.”
“What are you doing?”
“Working, Rashad.”
“Tell them you have to leave.”
“Uh, it’s not that simple, Rashad. I have work to do.”
“Okay, you don’t have to leave right now, but I’d appreciate if you tried to take off Thursday or Friday or both.”
“For what?”
“I have all-day passes to the US Open.”
“The Open?”
“Yes.”
“How did you get tickets?”
“Anything for the Teem.”
In a second, my mind was at the stadium watching the tennis matches, smiling at Rashad. I giggled. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll shoot for both. If it’s too much, I’ll just take off on Friday.”
“Okay, baby. I’ll see you later.”
I tied up some loose ends and piled a long list of things to do on Kia’s desk. After apologizing for giving her added stress, I let her know that I’d be out for the next two days. She frowned. “Do you think it’s a good idea considering the nature of the environment?”
Considering that Monday was a holiday, it probably wasn’t smart of me to take off for the rest of the week, but life is too short. I’d begged Derrick to take me to the Open the entire time we were together, but we never got there. I attended as many Knicks’ games and Giants’ games that he had room in his schedule, but never the sport that I love.
In the script, the things I like to do stated that I enjoy going to sporting events, but it didn’t specify the sport. How did he nail it straight on? I spent the entire day thinking about the next day. Technically, I was off today, too.
Rashad called shortly before I left work and told me he was in the neighborhood. I agreed to meet him outside of my office. When I stepped out of the building, it was just like seeing him for the first time. I blinked. He was the same man I’d parted with in the morning, but I was more drawn to him. He gave me a one-arm hug and kissed my forehead. Several shopping bags hung on his arm.
“What’s all that stuff?”
“It’s yours.”
“Mine.”
“Yeah, I noticed you don’t have any sporty clothes. All you have is fly-girl clothes—stilettos and skirts and tight jeans.”
Trying to separate our interlocked fingers, I pulled away from him. “So! Who needs sporty clothes?”
He squinted. “Ah. If you’re planning on going to the Open, you do.”
I chuckled and grabbed his hand again. He snatched it away, so I grabbed his forearm and snuggled close to him. “What did you get me?”
“I’ll show you at dinner.”
He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and I put mine around his waist. Though he spoke sensitively, he looked in an opposite direction. “Anything for the Teem.”
Looking up at him inquisitively, I watched him as he daydreamed. Where had his mind wandered to in a matter of seconds?
We ended up at Negril on 22nd Street. After we sat down and ordered a few drinks, he pulled out my outfits. He bought a blue Polo shirt, the 2006 US Open Signature Edition, as he explained. In addition, he purchased a Nike baby-tee with TENNIS written on it. He bought me tennis shoes to match both. As I folded the clothes on my lap, I blew a kiss at him. “Thank you, baby.”
His arrogant nod was his way of saying that I was welcome, but it made me chuckle.
When I woke up to the smell of bacon and footsteps pacing back and forth, I heard Rashad’s voice on the phone. I lay still trying to eavesdrop on the intense conversation occurring upstairs.
“Look, three weeks and that’s it.”
After a short pause, he said, “Hell no, it has to be over in three weeks. This is taking up too much of my time. I need to put all my focus on acting.”
He continued, “I know it’s guaranteed money, but it has got to end at some point. If we keep on, this could go on forever. I got better things to do. Either you handle it or I’ll have to do it.”
My heart dropped. Was he planning to have his agent break up with me? I thought this had become real. In three weeks, my script comes to an end? After Derrick died, I promised myself not to worry about what the future held and live every day for its worth. Suddenly, all rational thought escaped me. I wanted to know today about my tomorrows.
When I stepped out of bed, I felt light-headed. My heart ached as I listened to Rashad wrap up plans to end our agreement. I sat on the toilet tempted to cry. It was only temporary from the start. How could I expect him to give up his dream to hang out with me forever? A part of me forgave him and appreciated his will to stay this long.
When I walked upstairs to candles flickering on the table, I was confused. Despite the frustration I heard on the phone, he still gave this role one hundred percent. As I entered the kitchen, he puckered for a kiss and then smiled. “Good morning, beautiful.”
“Hey, Rashad.”
“We can do better than that. Let’s try again. Good morning, beautiful.”
“Good morning.”
With his hands on my shoulders, he turned me around. “Okay, have a seat and I’ll bring the food in there.”
“Can I get some orange juice?”
“I’ll bring it to you. Now, go and relax. I put all the latest gossip magazines on the table.”
“I didn’t buy any magazines this week.”
“I went to the newsstand this morning and bought them for you.”
The latest copies of inTouch, Us Weekly, and People lay on the table. I hooted, “See, I knew you were into celebrity gossip.”
He chuckled. “Nah. I figured I should start reading what they will be saying about me when I get to Hollywood.”
In a blink, I was reminded of his real aspirations. This role would end in three weeks and he will be on to pursuing his dream. I’ll be here alone again. Where else will I find an actor so perfect that he makes me forget this isn’t real?
I wished I could support him, but I didn’t want to accept that his dream would separate us. So, I slouched into the dining room and sat at the table. As I flipped through the magazines, the gossip didn’t seem as steamy as usual. My mind wandered on to future cover stories: Did Rashad Watkins play the role of a boy toy for a desperate widow before his big break?
My head began to throb. The whole country would know about me. When he set the plate on the table, I looked down at his scrumptious French toast. He even took time to decorate the plate with garnish. When he sat down, he took my hand and prayed:
“Lord, we thank you for waking us up this morning. We ask that you bless us as we go about our day. We thank you for patience as we wait for the desires of our heart…”
My mind blocked out the rest of the prayer. What desires? Is he insinuating that when he quits, I’ll find someone else? My eyes remained tightly closed as he shook my shoulder. “Amen.”
I jumped and looked at him. “Yeah, Amen.”
“I said, ‘Amen’ like five times. What were you doing? Saying your own prayer?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I guess.”
By the time we got to National Tennis Center, I had forced myself to get over that we only had three weeks left. He asked if I wanted a drink, I decided to shoot for draft beer. As he handed me a twenty-ounce cup, he joked, “Don’t keep running back and forth to the bathroom.”
“Nope. I’m not going to miss anything.”
As I watched people hustle around me, the big screens and all the courts surrounding us, I still couldn’t believe I was here. I tugged on Rashad’s shirt. “What made you bring me to a tennis match?”
“I listen.” He paused. “You told me that you hadn’t played tennis since you came to New York.”
“Okay, and?”
“It was the way you said it, like you missed the sport.”
“I do.”
“I know. That’s why I purchased les
sons for you at Harlem Tennis.”
I shook his arm. “No you didn’t!”
“Yes, I did.”
My eyes watered. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, Teem.”
I looked at him in amazement. “How did you know?”
“What? That you were the best player on your high school squad?”
My eyes shifted. “Rashad. Yes. Where did you get that from?”
He bent down and kissed me. “Good actors do their research.”
“I guess it’s that simple, huh?”
He nodded. A piece of me wanted to tell him that I was in love with him, but I didn’t want to hinder his plans. He made it clear that he loved acting more than he loved the money I offered for his love. Maybe these tennis lessons were to fill the void of his absence.
Scene 38
RASHAD
As it all began to come together, I was certainly more proud of myself than I thought. In a little over a week, I will be receiving income from my tenants and I can tell Fatima to keep her money.
After the safety inspector approved the place, I needed to get the city’s approval and the tenants I’d already lined up could move in. My adrenaline rushed a million miles a minute as I played the main character in all these different dramas.
To celebrate, I booked a secluded suite in a Vermont bed & breakfast where I planned to tell Fatima that I quit and offer her my love for free.
Before I picked up the rental car, I stopped by my mother’s apartment. There were messages posted on my bedroom door: Monique called 9/20. Monique called 9/21. I frowned. Why didn’t she just call me on my cell phone?
As I packed my clothes, I dialed City Props. When Monique came to the phone, she joked, “How are things, Mr. Landlord?”