by Tameka Hicks
He frowned. “You get on my nerves when you start acting like a bitch.”
“Your mama,” she cackled.
She continued to clean the filthy room. Her bedroom was always last to receive attention because she had to take care of everything else. She would be completely drained by the time she’d reached her room. All she wanted to do was hit the sheets. She noticed him following her around the room with his eyes everywhere she had gone. She gathered his garments off of the floor and gently tossed them in his face.
“You might want to put these on since I’m acting like a bitch.”
He looked up at her, but didn’t respond. He thought, Damn, I feel so used. He chuckled a bit. “Are you kicking me out?”
She gave him a half smile. “No, I’m not kicking you out yet.”
“Yet,” he asked surprisingly. He watched her as she switched around the room with her extra tight biker pants on. He became aroused as she bent over and he got another look at her breasts. “Come here.”
“Stop,” she continued to sweep the floor. “Move your feet before I sweep them, and you’ll have bad luck for ten years.”
“I’m not superstitious,” he chuckled inside. He grabbed his erect penis and freed it from an uncomfortable position. He said giddily, “Whoa, I was about to break my stuff off.” He re-adjusted himself. “That’s more like it.”
“You always have your hands in your pants.”
“My stuff is always coming out of my boxers.”
“If you buy bigger boxer shorts then you’ll solve that problem, or if you put your pants on your “stuff” won’t flop out.”
He retrieved his shirt with the words THE BEEF’S RIGHT HERE from the bed and had put it on. “I guess I have to go home huh?”
“You don’t have to go home, but you have to get the hell out of here,” she said with a smile.
He grabbed her hips. “Are you kicking me out?”
She pushed him lightly away from her. “Move I can’t clean up with you in the way.”
He took the broom from her hands. “Give me this.” He turned her around staring into her eyes.
Look at his chocolate fine ass. The waves in his hair are so deep you could swim on top of one of them. His body has muscles in all the right places. In the dark his skin looks good, like a Hershey candy bar with the NUTS.
“Tamara?”
“What?” She playfully snatched the broom back from him.
“Tamara, I love you,” he confessed.
Those words stopped her dead in her tracks, not because she was excited that he had finally said them to her, especially since night-after-night she’d dreamed of hearing him say that to her. That was a childhood fantasy of hers that she had given up on about three years ago. The only reason why she had spent time with him was to keep her company and to curb her “other” appetite from time-to-time. Her back was turned to him when he had professed his love, but she kept on cleaning hoping that he wouldn’t say it again. She pictured the way his mouth moved as he said those three deep conditioned words.
“Look at all this stuff in my room,” she nervously grabbed the last cigarette from the pack.
She’s a trip because she knew she heard me tell her that I loved her. I’m going to tell her again. “I love you, Tamara.”
She swallowed, making the smoke travel down the wrong windpipe. She coughed uncontrollably. She coughed so hard; it looked like she was going to spit out a hairball. She quickly tossed the cigarette out the window as she grasped for air. He ran over to her and had struck her in the back a few times.
“Are you okay?”
She tried to reply, but nodded instead as tears rolled down her face. She retrieved her beverage from on top of her nightstand. She cleared her throat. “Look at what you made me do? Stupid.”
“You were about to die because I said I love you,” he laughed. “I take it back then.”
“Good,” she looked angrily at him. “That’s not funny ni**a,” she cleared her throat twice. She stuck her head out of the window inhaling some fresh air. She looked up at the stars and mumbled to herself.
“What you say?” he asked.
“We haven’t been seeing each other long enough for you to love me.”
“What?” He chuckled. “I’ve known you for a long time. What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know. See how you got me talking? I can’t even think straight.”
“You never thought straight. I’ve known you longer than you probably have known yourself.”
“I’ve known you long enough to know that you’re full of shit. Okay, funny man, finish getting dressed and leave,” she commanded.
He walked on her heels. “Why am I full of shit? What did I do? Answer the question.”
She pushed him and made him fall backwards onto the bed. “You don’t love me.”
“How come you can’t answer my question? Here, I’ll ask you again. Do you love me?”
She sat on the bed. “I-I-love your sex,” she said with a big smile on her face.
“Well, I’m glad about that but do you love,” he pointed to himself, “me?”
She placed her hands over her eyes like she was shy. He moved her hands from her face.
“You don’t do you?” He laughed softly to himself to cover up the hurt. “I can’t believe this?” He quietly sat there in disbelief as he learned her true feelings about him. His trigger finger rested on his nose while his other fingers propped his face up. “I really can’t believe this,” he repeated.
She moved closer to him. “What do you want me to say?” She laughed. “Are you mad at me?”
“Say you love me.”
“No Charles, love is overrated baby. That’s a four-letter word made up to control people lives. You won’t do this if you love me. I thought you loved me, but you went and did that! If people didn’t put so much stock in that word, people wouldn’t get hurt. Love is a feeling, but so is temptation. I think people give in to temptation more than they give in to love, why bother?”
“Have you ever been in love before?”
“Yeah,” she mumbled.
“With whom,” he asked.
She smiled. “None of your bees wax.”
He had put her in a headlock. “With whom,” he repeated.
“You,” she replied kind of loud. “We have to tone it down.”
“Why do you try to hide your true feelings all the time? If you loved me, what happened?”
“I thought I loved you, when I was ten years old. I tried to tell you I liked you, but you didn’t pay me any attention because you went with Adr...”
He cut her off saying, “Adrian.”
“You were so in love with her, you probably shit out hearts for months. When I spoke to you, you just threw up your funky hands and kept walking like I didn’t matter to you.”
“What did you want me to do? I was fourteen years old, and you were what-Two? I would’ve…”
“I know. You would’ve been underneath the jail cell.”
“No, your grandfather would’ve killed me first.”
“My grandfather wasn’t the one that you should’ve have been concerned about. He was a big man, but he wouldn’t kill a fly.”
“Didn’t he go to the army?”
“He did, but of course he would kill to save his own life, but he just wouldn’t kill to be doing it.”
“I don’t care what you say, if I would’ve talked to you, your grandfather would’ve killed me and my friends would’ve been teasing me. I’m not a predator.”
She fell over with laughter. “I’m telling you, he wouldn’t have liked it, but he wouldn’t have killed you. I didn’t say for us to go together anyway, I knew I was too young, but you didn’t have to ignore me like you did.”
“I didn’t ignore you. I thought you were cute, but you were just too young.”
“I’m still too young.”
He said with a devilish grin on his face. “You don’t act young? What’s your prob
lem with me?”
“What?”
“Why do you act so funny?”
She smiled. “I don’t know what you mean?”
“Bitchy?”
“My life consists of cleaning up after grown people that don’t appreciate it. I have to cook for Jeanette. Well, I’ve always cooked for her, now I have to wait on Jeanette hand and foot. I never get a break.”
“What’s wrong with that? She’s pregnant now. She won’t be like that forever.”
“Hush, you’re too loud,” she said. “You come take care of her then.”
“I will.”
“Anyway, if I did love you, I would never tell you because once you confirm it people go crazy. They act like just because you love them, they own you. No one owns me, but me. I’d rather have fun, and go our separate ways once it's over. I don’t want any strings attached because that makes things really complicated. Say tomorrow, you met a girl that you liked, y’all dug each other. If we go together, “being a dog like most boys are,” you’re eventually going to cheat and rather being committed to me, you would be free to pounce on her, me and anybody else you liked as long as you didn’t bring anything back to me. However, if we’re committed to each other, and you cheated on me,” she frowned at him, “and I found out, all hell would break loose. Trust me.”
He asked, “What do you want from me? Did you get that from your How to be a bitch handbook?”
“For you to do whatever I need done, no matter what it is. Whenever I tell you to do it, by any means necessary, or I will keep my stuff in my pants. My handbook is called Life.”
He giggled lightly. “You always blackmail me with that one.” He laughed. “What kind of girl are you? Who doesn’t want a commitment?”
“What kind of guy are you? You’re eighteen and you want a commitment? You’re a baby. I might see a boy tomorrow that I might want to get with and chances are, if I want to I will, so it’s best that we keep this the way it is. Don’t expect nothing more than what I have been giving you, (she pointed between his legs), and I won’t expect anything more than your eight inch ...”
“Tamara, did you hear that?”
“Sssh, I thought I just heard something too, be quiet,” she whispered. “Something just fell downstairs.”
She laughed at Charles because he reminded her of Shaggy from Scooby Doo.
“Your mama is coming,” he said as he hurried up and put on his shoes. He grabbed the sheets and started tying them together. “I’ll go out of the window,” he said nervously.
She snatched the sheets from him. “Don’t have a cow dude! You’re such a chicken.”
“I’d rather be a scared chicken who lives than a dead one. I’ll be sitting on top of the dinner table tonight, and she’s pregnant too. She’ll eat me with one gobble.”
She shook her head. “Will you chill the fuck out? Calm down man. I’m about to go down there and see what she wants. She probably wants something to eat, or I have to change her bedpan. Relax Scooby.”
“She’s coming upstairs,” Charles said.
“Tamara,” Jeanette yelled.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”
Be Kind Please Rewind
REWIND>
The pain in Jeanette’s back refused to ease up. I feel as though I’m trapped in a pair of vise grips, she thought. Going back to sleep or even resting comfortably was out of the question. She tried breathing techniques; nothing seemed to work. She decided that it was time to inform Tamara of her pain. It was pitch black in her room. She could not see her hands in front of her face. The only thing visible was the alarm clock that read 10:30.
“Tamara forgot to turn on the nightlight. Damn her ass.”
The pain intensified from her lower back to the center of her neck. She tossed and turned hoping that she could have found a position that relieved the pressure. No position worked out for her. The pain formed quick, sharp, needle like cramps in her abdomen. She balled up into the fetal position with that being the only way to get a “little” comfort.
“If I could only get some sleep, I’ll go to the hospital first thing in the morning. I can’t expect to have a pain free pregnancy like I did with Tamara.” She exhaled. All babies are different, she convinced herself. “Everything will be all right,” she mumbled. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark, so she could now see the gold bell on the night stand.
“If I can reach it,” she knocked it down. “Ouch, what’s wrong with me?”
She felt an enormous amount of pressure in her vagina. She placed her hands between her legs calling out for Tamara after she’d felt a watery substance gush out. She didn’t hear Tamara making her way down the stairs, so she tried to get the bell again.
“Shit!”
For some strange reason she decided to sniff her fingers for an odor. There was no smell. “Okay, I guess that’s a good sigh,” she convinced herself.
She sat in the middle of the bed contemplating on getting up. She really did not have a choice. Her legs have not been on the side of the bed in months, it actually felt weird.
“What is Tamara doing up there?” She wondered. “These must be contractions and I’m about to lose my baby,” she said nervously.
She pictured Damarcus being in prison and not at home with her like he had always promised her. “I’m counting to five and I have to get up. I can’t take this.” She counted to seven and stood up. Her legs felt like noodles. She used the wall as support as she carefully staggered to the living room. She knocked down the heart shaped picture frame that was a photograph of her and Damarcus at Metro Park.
Those were the good old days. That’s when she noticed the puddle of blood that she stood in. She became woozy and the room started to fade to black.
Tamara finally decided to go downstairs, and she discovered Jeanette lying on the floor, in the exact location where Damarcus bled to death. She tapped her face and called her name until she came to.
“Call 9-1-1,” she whispered.
“What’s the number again?” she asked.
She exhaled. “Stop playing.”
“Don’t get an attitude with me lady,” she chuckled. She went into the kitchen humming a Prince Song; not picking up the receiver until she finished her favorite part.
“She’s always in my hair. My hair! Now, I will call.” She killed two valuable minutes humming instead of calling because she had yelled at her. “You don’t yell at a person if you need them to do something for you.”
Operator: “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
Tamara: “There’s a lady here having a baby.”
Operator: “I have your location as 12761 Flanders. Is that correct?”
Tamara: “Yeah,” she answered sarcastically.
Operator: “I’m dispatching an ambulance right now. What’s the age of the pregnant person?”
Tamara: “How old are you Jeanette?”
Jeanette answered. “Thirty-four,” she groaned.
Operator: “How many months is she? And do you see the baby’s head crowning, yet?”
Tamara: “What? Crowning? I wasn’t looking down there for any crowning! Are you crazy? How many months are you?”
Jeanette said, “Almost seven. Will they please send an ambulance? I’m having contractions and I’m bleeding! Can you not ask me anymore questions?”
Tamara: “Did you hear that? She needs your help but she’s talking about don’t ask her anymore questions.”
Operator: “Please ask her if her water has broken? Is she lying down? If not I need you to do a few things for me-what’s your name?”
Tamara: “Yes,” she replied. “And yes, what do I have to do and what difference does my name make?”
Operator: “Okay, can you get a towel wet it and place it on her head. Elevate her legs on some pillows until help arrives.”
Tamara: “Yeah okay, I hear them now,” she lied.
Operator: “Okay good. Don’t hang-,” she tried to finish her sentence.
Ta
mara quickly said, “Thanks,” and hung up.
Oh shit, I forgot about Charles! She quickly ran into the bathroom-soaked the towel and tossed (the dripping towel) to her. “Put that on your big forehead Jeanette.”
“I guess I have to do this stupid stuff.” She snatched two pillows off of the sofa.
“Put that under your head and feet.” She had gotten her sandwiches off the table and opened the door because she really heard the ambulance’s sirens.
“Here they come now, thank God, all that moaning and groaning is working my nerves.”
“Where’s the person in-”
She rudely interrupted him. “She’s over there,” she pointed on the floor, and proceeded upstairs. “Any questions, you might have to ask her.”
They looked at each other shaking their heads.
When she reached her room, Charles had vanished. He had tied two sheets together and disappeared like David Copperfield. “He’s so scary,” she chuckled.
They worked rapidly on Jeanette because she had lost a great deal of blood and definitely needed to see a doctor.
“Hello,” the lady technician yelled upstairs for Tamara.
“Yeah,” she angrily answered.
“We are transporting her to Hut-.”
“Hutzel Hospital, I know!”
The two technicians exchanged baffled looks again at each other because of the rude girl's attitude. They placed the weird girl’s mother onto the stretcher.
“Okay, let’s move her out on my count.”
Tamara turned the volume up on her headphones as she ate her sandwich. Guilt crept through her brain because of the way that she had treated her mother, but she quickly dismissed it. “That wasn’t my fault. I didn’t make Jeanette pregnant or weak. I have to go downstairs and lock the door,” she sighed. “Man.”
DIARY ENTRY 5
May 9, 1991
Hello Diary. It’s been a long time. A new year has begun and is damn near over. I have not written in you because with school, babysitting, cleaning up, Charles and television, there isn’t any time available. I’m miserable, and if I could find another word that’s worse than ‘miserable’ then that’s what I would be. The situation is crazy now since I have to watch Lasha. Next school year I have to take those two extra classes, and I don’t know how that’s going to work out because I keep the “WHINER,” with her hollering little ass. She drives me up a wall, and I don’t complain about it because it won’t do any good. I constantly fall asleep in class all the time. My grades are drastically going down; I went from A’s to C’s instantaneously. Jeanette was late on her day job six times and was laid off.