“In case you didn’t know, I love you, Senalda Esperanza Warner. I wanted to show you that by planning this party for you. And in case you didn’t know this either, I hope this is the first of many birthdays we spend together.”
Senalda said nothing, but the tears forming in her eyes said what she wanted to say. This time she let them fall.
• • •
The next morning, Senalda was still speechless and unengaged. Had this exact same relationship unfolded in her twenties, she wouldn’t have felt as pressed. But now that another year of her life was beginning, she didn’t know what to think. For most of the car ride back to her home, she remained silent, and Dexter seemed not to notice. As he pulled in the driveway, she decided to just say whatever she felt like saying.
“Where is this relationship going?” Senalda squawked. “You said you love me. You threw a surprise party for me. We get along well. We have everything in common. We are grown. What’s next for us?”
Dexter drove all the way in her driveway. “We’ve only been dating for seven months.”
“Yes, but it’s not like we didn’t already know each other,” Senalda retorted. “Do you see us being together long-term?”
“Yes,” Dexter said quietly. “I told you that last night.”
“What you said is that you wanted to spend more birthdays with me,” Senalda said. “My girls and I have been spending our birthdays together for years, but I’m not marrying them.”
“I can see us getting married one day,” Dexter explained, “but I’m not ready to make that commitment right now. I hope my answer is enough for you. And the fact that I love you, and I don’t plan on going anywhere.”
He reached toward her to hug her, but she flinched, moving away from him.
“I’m planning on going inside my house because I’m committed to that,” Senalda said as she slammed his car door and walked to her house without looking back.
CHAPTER 11
October
Jarena
I HOPED THAT PASTOR KIRBY had a word for me this Sunday because I couldn’t get away from my feelings about my business any longer. My friends always found it hilarious that in spite of the raunchier artists I promoted throughout the week, I praised the Lord every Sunday. Sometimes I thought it was funny too, but I reasoned that the Lord wanted me to make a living, and it wasn’t like I or many of the artists that I promoted even were living the degenerate lives portrayed in some of their songs.
So while I drove to church, I listened to Rich the Rapper’s album, hoping its redemptive quality would be evident. Rich was my latest client, and his first song, “Make Money Not Love,” off of his debut album, Moolah, was already a chart-topper. “Money is my rula, love gets no nigga. If you wanna rule this nigga, betta make dat money,” was the first lyric on the song. The lyrics were jarring, but the beat was banging. And although I would be in church within minutes, my head moved in tandem with my shoulders so much so that I felt like pulling over and getting out to allow my whole body to pulsate.
I had fallen in love with Southern hip hop in middle school. Atlanta rappers like Kilo Ali, Raheem the Dream, and Kris Kross, and deejays like DJ Smurf, DJ Kizzy Rock and DJ Toomp started to get Atlanta noticed. And then when LaFace Records moved to town and OutKast came out, I watched Atlanta become the rap capital of the world. In 1995, the year that I graduated from high school, OutKast won the Best New Artist award at the Source Awards. Dre said, “The South got something to say,” in his acceptance speech, even though the East Coast and West Coast artists and their fans were booing them. And his words were like a prophecy. Then there was Goodie Mob, Lil Jon & the East Side Boyz, and the Ying Yang Twins. I couldn’t believe it when one of my high school classmates, Chris Bridges, who was the radio deejay Chris Lova Lova, became the rapper Ludacris and blew up! Even when I moved hours away to go to college in Tuscaloosa, I drove home to Atlanta as many weekends as I could so Mimi and I could party at XS, Club Kaya, and Club 112 and all over the city, seeing the rap artists and deejays who were making our city famous.
I got to church a few minutes early, using the time to pray silently and ask God what to do. Once the service started, I didn’t pay much attention to anything until finally it was Pastor Kirby’s turn to speak.
“Church, you know I’m a big football fan. On Saturdays and Sundays after church, you can find me either watching a football game on television or at the actual game. As I watched a game last week, I realized the Christian faith is like a football game. After this particular game, the coach of the losing team was interviewed, and he admitted that some of the members of the team had been distracted. He said, ‘We have to be all in to win.’ And church, that’s what I want to tell you today. You have to be all in this Christian faith to win at it.”
“Speak on it!” a slight man with a curiously booming voice commanded from the back of the church.
Pastor Kirby gripped the sides of the wooden pulpit and leaned forward, the man’s imperative emboldening him.
“In fact, God says in Revelation 3:15-17, you can’t do this thing halfway. He compares being a halfway Christian to being lukewarm water. When you have cold water on a hot day, it quenches your thirst. And when you take a hot shower on a cold day, it prepares you to meet the cold. But what does lukewarm do? Nothing. And God said He will spit halfway Christians out of His mouth like they are lukewarm water. So I want to ask you today, are you all the way in or are you halfway in? Because whether you are halfway in or all the way out, the result is the same. You lose.”
That was all I needed to hear. I had asked a question of God, and He had answered. In that moment, I knew I would be selling my business. After the church service was over, I rushed up to Pastor Kirby as he greeted church members.
“Pastor Kirby, I don’t know if you’re heading to see a football game after church, but if you have a few minutes to spare, I would like to speak with you in your office, please.”
“Ha, glad you were listening,” Pastor Kirby said with a laugh. “But as I said, God comes first. I’ll be in my office in about fifteen minutes if you want to talk.”
As I waited, I leaned against the wall outside of his office as if the wall would steady my flailing emotions. Did I really just decide to sell my business? I considered dashing to my car and skipping out on my impromptu meeting. Just as I was about to leave, Pastor Kirby appeared in front of me. After he held his office door open for me, I sat down in the chair in front of his desk.
“So what’s going on?”
“A lot, Pastor Kirby,” I said, trying to organize my thoughts. “I think I want to sell my business. As I drove to church today, I was listening to an album by one of the artists that I represent. I don’t know if you’ve heard of Rich the Rapper? But anyway, I was listening to his lyrics, and I realized that although I didn’t write the lyrics or believe in what he was saying, I am part of the reason why his music is so successful. And I was thinking that maybe God doesn’t approve of that.”
I sighed, the weight of my admission making me lethargic, before I finished my explanation.
“I never really thought about it before because in the past, going to church was just something I did on Sundays. But now that I am studying to be a minister, I’m starting to be uncomfortable with what I do. So I prayed before church started that God would speak through you to me about what I should do. And then you preached about being all in, and I realized that I’m half in. And I feel like God wants me to sell my business so that I can be all the way in.”
“I see why you were leaning against the wall,” Pastor Kirby said. “You were carrying a load for sure.”
“So what should I do?” I said, interrupting him.
“I think what you’re talking about is a very serious decision,” he began. “When I decided to go back to school instead of launching my career in business, I was worried about how that would affect my wife, who was my fiancée at the time. Thankfully, she supported my decision. Through some financial aid and he
r getting her first job as an attorney, I was able to get my master of ministry degree at United Theological Seminary.
“Long story short, I eventually got called here at Hidden after getting that degree, and I’m happier than I ever would have been, had I pursued business. And God provided for us financially the whole time. I’m not going to tell you what to do, but hopefully, my story will give you something to think about as you’re seeking God’s face about this decision.”
I sighed again, knowing what I should do but wondering if I had the faith to do it.
“Thank you, Pastor Kirby,” I said finally. “I’m going to pray about it some more.”
I rose from my chair, shook his hand over his desk and walked out of his office.
• • •
I drove in silence on the way home from church until my cell phone rang as I turned off the freeway at Cumberland Boulevard.
“Hello?” I said, somewhat startled at the sound of my own voice.
“Hey Jay,” a familiar deep and sexy baritone voice said.
“Oh hey, Bama,” I replied.
“What’s wrong, girl?”
“Nothing. Just sleepy and hungry. How are you?”
“I’ve got something crazy to tell you,” Barry said.
“What?” I asked, hearing the excitement in his words as I pulled into a takeout parking space for This Is It! to get my Sunday dinner.
“I’m moving to Atlanta in December.”
“Wha what whaaat? You, Naomi and the kids are moving here?” I stammered.
“No,” Barry said. “Coke is launching a new product in Atlanta and they want to me to help launch it, so I’ll be there for a year. My family is staying in North Carolina, so I’ll go home every other weekend.”
“Congratulations,” I said when I could finally speak coherently. “Is this a promotion?”
“Yep!” Barry said.
“Cool!” I said. “Congratulations again!”
“Thanks.”
“I cannot believe that you and I will be living in the same city after all of these years.”
“I know. You’ve got to show me around when I get there.”
“Where are you going to live?” I said.
“In Midtown Atlanta in one of those high rises,” he said. “I can’t remember the name of the building right now.”
“Oh, you’ll be right in the heart of things,” I explained.
“Yes, very close to work. Do you live nearby?”
“I’m not downtown, but I’m not that far away, if you know how to get around in Atlanta,” I said with a laugh.
“I’m counting on you to help me get to know the Black Mecca.”
“That we are,” I said, putting my hand on my stomach. “Hey Barry, my belly is rumbling so I probably need to get something to eat.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, you did say you were hungry and sleepy,” he said. “I just wanted to let you know.”
“Thanks for letting me know,” I said.
I didn’t move for at least five minutes. God wants me to sell my business, and the love of my life, who happens to be married, is moving to Atlanta. Why did it seem like I had an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other?
Senalda
Since Dexter didn’t propose on my birthday, I had been seriously considering breaking up with him. That would be the end of my Destination Wedding goal. But I was beginning to think that maybe Destination Wedding would be a two-year instead of one-year project. That wouldn’t mean that I would give Dexter a longer window to propose though. According to my relationship-book reading, I had to allocate my time wisely.
We made up since the day after my birthday in September, and Dexter asked me to go salsa dancing with him on a Saturday night in October. While he was living in Miami, he had taken dancing lessons and had even been in some salsa competitions, he said. Although my mother is Puerto Rican, I had never been salsa dancing, so I was looking forward to our date.
I wore a red, ruffled, short dress with high heels. Large gold hoop earrings completed my mamacita look. I texted a photo of myself to my girls, and they couldn’t believe it! As I finished my makeup, I knew that Dexter and I would have a great time together. We always did. There was no drama between us, we liked the same things, I had an MBA, he had an MBA, we were in the same field, he respected me, and I respected him. He was everything I had always dreamed about in a husband. AND we had known each other since college. That’s why I couldn’t explain why we weren’t moving along faster. I was starting to have that feeling in my gut that I had to either make a decision or stop obsessing about it.
I opened the door when the doorbell rang, and there was Dexter with a single rose in his teeth, dressed in all black. His shirt was unbuttoned to almost the middle of his chest. His pants were a little too tight, but I reasoned they were probably his salsa dancing pants or something.
“Look at you,” I said with a laugh.
He took the rose out of his mouth and grinned.
“Are you okay? I hope you didn’t get cut by any thorns,” I said, taking the rose from him and examining it. “Is this your salsa dancing outfit?”
“Not really,” he said. “Do you find me sexy, baby?”
He took the rose back from me and lightly grazed it down his chest.
“Ay papi!” I replied.
He laughed. “Let’s go,” he said as he put his hand on the small of my back.
We drove to Buckhead where Lupita’s was located, on the top floor of a shopping plaza. The club was mostly filled with Hispanic people, but there were lots of black and white people as well as Asian people sprinkled in, a rare mixture in nearly race-segregated Atlanta. Within minutes of arriving, the instructors began teaching all of the salsa virgins like me the basics as experienced dancers watched. Dexter gave me a “thumbs up” sign during the lesson. After the hour was up, experienced dancers got on the dance floor and Dexter came up to me.
“So, are we going to be the hottest couple on the dance floor tonight?” he whispered in my ear and began moving his hips and feet in time to the music.
“I’m the best at everything I do, even if I am a beginner,” I said to him.
As we danced, I couldn’t believe Dexter hadn’t taken me dancing before. Although I only barely knew basic steps, I managed to keep on beat with him as he twirled, dipped, and pulled me to him. Periodically, I reached up in my hair to find out if it had turned into curls, but after a while, I didn’t care. We danced until I almost forgot that I was still frustrated with him. When the music finally stopped a few hours later, my body kept humming as if the beats had been injected into my blood. Even if Dexter and I break up, I will definitely be back.
Mimi
My period aine never been regular, but this time it was late fa real. I sat on the closed toilet seat in my bathroom, staring at the pregnancy test I bought at CVS. I wasn’t the praying type, but since I joined SLAA I got more spiritual than I had ever been. Please, please, please, don’t let me be pregnant, Higher Power, I said before getting the courage to pull down my jeans, open the toilet and pee on the test. Then, I waited for a $15.99 test to tell me what the rest of my life would be like.
“No, no, no,” I said to my reflection when the second line started showing minutes later. I fell down on the floor, not sure what to do next. I decided to call Jarena, so I reached up to get my cell phone from the counter, trying not to get twisted up in my pants since they were still around my ankles. Jarena was a know-it-all, but did she know what to do most of the time.
“Hey, Mimi,” Jarena said so nonchalantly I wanted to smack her. “What’s up?”
“My blood pressure,” I spat back.
“Why, what’s going on?”
“I’m pregnant, Jarena.”
“You’re what?” she said with a laugh. “Who is the baby daddy?”
“I’m serious,” I said. “And the baby daddy aine none other than your favorite client Mr. Jovan Parker, the last guy I got down wit.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m on the bathroom floor, nekkid from the waist down because I just took a pregnancy test,” I hollered.
“How did this happen? I thought you hadn’t seen Jovan in months, and the last time I saw you, you didn’t look pregnant!” Jarena said.
Finally, I told her what happened in August, expecting her to say, “I told you so.” But she didn’t.
“You need to have a professional test with an actual doctor,” she said quickly, as if she was trying to calm me down.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do that,” I said, relieved she told me what to do next without judging me. “Okay, I’ll call you back. I’m gonna make an appointment with my doctor rat now.”
“Okay, call me back.”
“Okay,” I repeated, ending the call.
• • •
I called Jarena as I drove home from the doctor the next day. It felt like only what was inside my Jeep was real, and everythang and ereone outside, the road, the buildings, the trees, the other cars, the people in them, were fake. But I felt like I needed to connect with something or someone outside my Jeep or I was gonna suffocate.
“Mimi.”
After hearing her voice, I could breathe again.
“Yup, I’m preggers.”
“How do you feel?” Jarena asked, all of the nonchalance in her voice from the day before gone.
“Not pregnant,” was all I could think of to say.
“How far along are you?
“Two months.”
“So what are you going to do?”
And that was the question that kept a nigga up all night. It was probably the question that made my mama give up going to Clark College before it was Clark Atlanta University and marry my dad, a Jamaican who was lucky enough to come to America. A man who dreamed ’bout being a famous guitarist and almost soon as he arrived got a good gig at the Royal Peacock where he met James Brown and Gladys Knight. But he had to give all dat up to be a husband and father to my big brother first and then to me. Neither one of them seemed to ever get over what they had to give up until they finally divorced. So as much as I wanted to give Jovan a reason to be with me, forcing him to be a father and maybe a husband wasn’t the way I wanted it to go down.
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