by RM Johnson
“And that’s fine with you?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Hurting Jayson like that, even though you know how much he loves you? That’s fine with you?”
“Hold it,” Faith said, raising a finger at Karen. “I’m not the one who gave him the key to that room, when you knew I’d be getting my thang on. I’m not the one who hurt him. You are. And when the hell did Jayson all of a sudden become your concern?”
“I just feel he didn’t deserve what you were doing to him. I never felt he did. I mean, what if that were me in his situation, what if it were me who felt that way? I know how much I’d be hurt. So by giving him the key, I was saving him.”
“Oh, saving him, hunh,” Faith said, looking slant-eyed at Karen as though she had been betrayed. “I see. So it didn’t matter that all my plans got fucked up, as long as you could make yourself feel like some saint?”
“But your plans didn’t get fucked up. Everything worked out just like you said, just like you wanted.”
“But you didn’t know that. You didn’t know what was going to happen when Jayson walked in that room, but you gave him the key anyway. I can’t believe you!” Faith said angrily, standing and walking over toward Karen. Karen stood as well.
“What would’ve happened if everything went wrong, if for some reason they both decided they wanted nothing to do with me?”
Karen didn’t say anything, just lowered her head.
Faith grabbed her by the arm, gave Karen a shake. “I said, what would’ve happened then, goddammit!”
“Everyone would’ve been better off,” Karen said, softly. “Jayson loves you too much for you to be marrying him if you don’t love him the same way.”
“What the fuck is that!” Faith yelled. “Why are you so damn worried about Jayson?”
“I’m not worried about him,” Karen said, her eyes on the floor. “I just know what’s right and what’s not.”
“You obviously don’t. What’s right is my girl not running behind my damn back, giving one of my men the key to the hotel room I’m going to be in so he can catch me getting done by my other man.”
“Maybe if you were getting done by just one man, you wouldn’t have had to worry about getting caught by another one,” Karen said, her voice still soft, her head still lowered.
It didn’t even take Karen finishing her entire sentence before Faith knew the point she was making. That was the icing on the fucking cake, Faith thought, as she pulled back and threw a wild punch into Karen’s eye. She hit her mark squarely, sending Karen reeling, clutching the side of her face with both hands, letting out a short, loud squeal.
“Maybe if you were getting done by at least one, you wouldn’t have had the time to be all up in my business,” Faith said, breathing heavily and brushing a few wild strands of hair out of her face. “I could understand this coming from some bitch I halfassed knew, but you—you of all people. We were supposed to be tight and …” Faith felt herself on the verge of crying, but she smoothed a hand over her face and remained strong. “Me and you are through. You know that, don’t you?”
“Faith, I didn’t want it to—” Karen said, looking up, her eye already starting to swell.
“No, Karen. Fuck that,” Faith said, throwing up a finger in front of Karen’s face to shut her up. “We’re through after this shit. I never want to see your ass again, never want you to call my house. I don’t want to look out my car window and see your ass driving down the same street as me, you hear what I’m saying?”
Karen answered with a single tear spilling from her eyes.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Goodbye, Karen,” Faith said, spinning around and walking out the door.
16
Tuesday morning when Asha walked into the locker room at work, none other than Big Les was sitting there on the corner of the bench, looking as though she was waiting for someone, looking as though she had been waiting since the last time Asha had seen her on Friday.
Asha moved around Les, not paying her any mind, acting as though she wasn’t there at all. She stepped in front of her locker, started turning the combination of her lock.
“No good mornings today, ring girl?” Les said, and although Asha wasn’t looking at her, she could hear Les chuckling at the little joke she’d made.
“How are you, Les?” Asha was curt.
“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking over the weekend about our little conversation on Friday, been having dreams and things.”
Asha turned her head quickly to snatch a glance at Les. She was sitting there on the bench, leaning back some, one hand rubbing her belly, as if her stomach was pleasantly full with the images she was talking about.
“Woke up yesterday morning after a dream so damn good, I was about to come up in here on my day off just to see if you was as fine as you were in my dream. But then I said, naw. She’s fine, but not fine enough to be giving up no damn day off,” Les said, and then she laughed. “Know what I’m sayin’?”
Asha turned from her locker again and gave Les her full attention.
“Just who are you talking to? You act like you’re having a conversation with someone, but I know that person’s not me. I don’t know who you think I am, or what you think this is, but you better curb that shit, and quick.”
“Or what?” Les said, and now she was standing right up against Asha’s thin body. Les was towering over her, looking as though she was going to bump into her, send her flying backward into her locker.
“What you gonna do, but keep on listening, and maybe finally come to your senses?” Les said, looking sternly into Asha’s eyes. And at the end of that sentence, Les rested one of her heavy hands on Asha’s hip. She placed it there, still looking into Asha’s face, giving her a cautionary stare, as if to imply that her hip just as much belonged to her as it did to Asha, and if she was smart, she wouldn’t dare try to move it.
Asha stood there recognizing what was going on, wanting to slap that woman’s hand away, but having the sense not to. After a moment, Les took her hand back, a cunning smile on her face, and said, “That was smart. You a good girl, and you train fast like I thought you would. One of these days, me and you gonna have some fun.”
You’re out of your damn mind, Asha thought to herself, eyeing Les as the woman backed away a few steps, still looking at Asha hungrily. That would never happen, though at this point, Asha didn’t even know how she would stop Les from continuing to creep up on her, short of shooting her with an elephant gun.
When Asha thought it was safe, she turned back around, went into her locker, and pulled out her uniform, preparing to change.
“You mind? I’m about to change,” Asha said to Les, not turning around to look at her.
“Naw, I don’t mind. You can change in front of me if you want to,” Les said, settling in on the bench, as though she were about to watch a striptease. Asha pulled her things out of the locker, cradled them in her arms, and took them into her massage room to change. Something would have to be done about Big Les, Asha thought as she walked away, and it would have to happen soon.
That evening, Gill came to pick Asha up for dinner at his place. When she opened the door, Gill was smiling wide, holding a bouquet of flowers. Happily, he threw his arms around her, squeezed her tight, and said, “How’s my Suga’puss doing this evening?”
“Good, baby,” Asha said, smiling, her face against his shoulder.
He stepped back from her. “You looking fabulous as always.”
“I’m casual today, Gil,” Asha said, who was wearing a yellow pullover and blue jeans. “You said we’re just eating dinner at your place, remember?” Asha had made sure that he wouldn’t be taking her to any more fancy restaurants to spring any more news on her.
“Aw, baby. I haven’t forgot. Nice quiet evening, just like I said. Now bring your fine ass on.”
They drove downtown toward Gill’s loft, but stopped at the grocery store on the way. Gill walked down the aisles, holding Asha’s hand
proudly as they went, recognizing each time another man’s head would turn in Asha’s direction, each time another man’s eyes would gaze over her body longer than they should’ve. These things just seemed to make Gill even prouder.
They stopped in the wine section. “What do you feel like tonight, baby?” Gill asked.
“What are you cooking?”
“Fish.”
“Let’s do white. How about a Pinot Grigio?”
“Your wish is my command,” Gill said, reaching to open the refrigerator door. He pulled out a bottle, was about to step away, then grabbed another one.
“Can never have too much Pinot,” he said, smiling.
On the elevator up to Gill’s loft, he was very quiet, just staring at the doors in front of him.
Asha moved a little closer to him, grabbed his hand, and said, “What’s wrong? Is everything all right?”
Gill kept his eyes on the doors a moment longer, then looked into Asha’s face, mild concern in his eyes.
“Am I doing this right? I mean, this is what you want, right?”
“Gill, what are you talking about?” Asha said, brushing up even closer to him.
Gill was holding Asha’s left hand. He spun the ring he had given her around on her finger.
“This. My life. You want what I’m trying to give you, right?”
And what, did the man have some kind of sixth sense, because she knew she’d never let on that she wanted anything else. But he had obviously picked up on something. Was it becoming that apparent? Was this her cue to tell him what was really going on, what had been happening with Angie, the phenomenal thing that happened with her earlier today at work? Or was he just feeling a little nervous and unsure of himself, which would be perfectly normal.
“Of course it’s what I want,” Asha said, leaning in to give him a soft, long kiss on the lips, knowing that if there was a time to tell him how she really felt, this wasn’t it. Although she had feelings for Angie, she wasn’t sure where they would lead, and she wasn’t going to go dropping this man who she’d invested so much in on the possibility that something might develop between her and Angie.
“You’re what I want.”
Gill smiled brightly when Asha pulled away from him.
“We better now?” Asha asked, squeezing Gill’s hand.
“Much better now,” he said, squeezing her back, as they walked off the elevator to his door. “And I’m sorry about asking that, but I just really needed to know for sure tonight,” he said, as he stuck his key in the door and started to turn the knob.
As the door opened, Asha asked herself, why tonight? But the question was answered as soon as the door opened fully, and she saw the two people in Gill’s loft. One was an older lady walking about the kitchen, wearing an apron, the other, an older gentleman, sitting in front of the sixtyinch TV screen, a beer resting on his knee, his hand sunk into a bowl of Cheese Doodles. The door closed behind Asha, snapping her out of the momentary state of shock she had slipped into.
“Asha,” Gill said, “I want you to meet somebody.” The woman stepped out of the kitchen, taking off the apron, rolling it in a ball, and setting it aside. The man got up from the sofa, brushing cheese off his hand onto his pant leg, and walked over to Asha.
“Mom and Dad. This is Asha, my fiancée.”
After the pleasantries were exchanged, there was a mandatory meeting in the bathroom. Asha had yanked Gill in there, shutting the door behind him.
“I thought you said no surprises tonight,” she whispered loudly.
“I said, ‘no surprises at fancy restaurants.’ Didn’t say anything about no surprises,” Gill said, smiling.
Asha was really pissed, felt that everything was moving way too fast, was getting out of her control.
“What is the reason for all of this, Gill?”
“All of what, Asha?”
“Flying your parents in from out of town, having them here to meet me.”
“Asha,” Gill said, looking at her worriedly, as if she hadn’t heard a word she’d just said. “Think about what you just asked me. The reason for all this is because you’re the woman I love, the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with, and those are my parents, the people responsible for bringing me into this world, for raising me into the man that I am. I know that they wanted to finally meet you, and I figured, and maybe I was wrong, that you wanted to meet them too.”
Asha stood there staring at Gill, this stupid look on her face, feeling even more stupid than she looked. He was right, and if nothing else, her words had shown her just how much she really didn’t belong here.
“I’m sorry, Gill. You’re absolutely right. I just thought you would’ve warned me the night I was supposed to meet your parents. I mean …” and it took her a second, but only a second to think of a good excuse for her behavior. “Look at how I’m dressed. I would’ve worn something nice if I’d known they’d be here.”
“Don’t worry, Suga’,” Gill said, kissing her on the forehead. “They’ll love you no matter what you’re wearing, just like I do.”
The dinner was like any dinner from hell with the parents. There were a lot of awkward questions and situations, a few misunderstandings, and even one apology.
Gill’s father wore a beard so long and thick, he must’ve started growing it when he was five years old. He was dressed in a suit, even though anyone could tell he never wore them except to funerals and on the rare occasions his wife got him to church. Asha figured Gill probably forced his father to wear it tonight to look good for her. As he stuffed his face with catfish, he would occasionally throw his heavy arm around Asha’s shoulder, pull her into his huge body, and give her a squeeze. He was immediately taken with her.
“My future daughter,” he said, almost as proud of her as Gill was. “My son sure picked right this time. Yes, you did, son. Because that last one, the one with the bushy eyebrows that connected in the middle to make one big eyebrow, every time she looked at me, I didn’t know if she was mad at me, or if it was just that big caterpillar-looking eyebrow doing its thing.” He laughed out loud at the joke he made. “What was that girl’s name?”
“Katrice, Dad.”
“Yeah, the Kat with the bushy Cyclops eyebrow,” he said, laughing again, and taking a swig from what had to be his fifth glass of wine. Now Asha knew why Gill had bought that extra bottle.
“It wasn’t that bad, Pops,” Gill said.
“What do you mean, that bad? She was a beautiful woman from Carolina,” said Gill’s mother. Asha could tell she was all into that old-fashioned, housewife act the moment she walked in and saw her plump butt tooling around in the kitchen, her hair in a bun, wearing that polyester flowerprint dress, the apron wrapped so tight around her waist, she looked like an inflated balloon twisted in the middle.
“She made a wonderful living as a marketing director for some big company and had plenty of investments as well,” his mother said, scooping some more rice on her plate from a platter on the table. “And what was it you said you did for a living, Asia?”
Asha clenched her teeth and gave Gill a dirty look before speaking. “My name is Asha, not Asia, and I never said what I did for a living.”
“She’s a masseuse at a spa, Ma,” Gill said, cutting in, and Asha cringed when she heard that, because she knew his mother would take it and run with it.
“So you rub naked bodies all day. I know a few women still do that illegally in parts of Florida, California, and Vegas, but I can’t believe some people actually make a legal profession of it. Do they cut you a payroll check, or do you just get paid cash under the table?”
Why the hell is this old woman coming after me like this? Asha wondered.
“Ma, I think that’s enough. Don’t you?”
“I just want to find out what type of lifestyle you and Abba will be living. Do you have a degree in something? But then again, what would a masseuse get a degree in?”
The question was directed to Asha, even though Asha ha
d a sneaking suspicion his mother knew that she probably didn’t even have a degree, but she was at least glad she didn’t call her Asia again.
“I don’t have one.”
“Now see …” Gill’s mother started.
“That’s enough, Mable,” his father said. How did Asha just know that that woman would have a name like Mable, and then have the nerve to make fun of her name.
“I was just trying …”
“Well, whatever it is you’re just trying to say, you can stop,” Gill’s father said getting up from his seat. “We all know how much you loved Katrice and wanted her to marry our son. The only problem with that is our son didn’t love her. He loves Asha.” Gill’s father tugged on Asha’s arm, and she stood up, allowing him to wrap his arms around her yet again, and pull her into his soft body.
“Our boy is gonna marry this beautiful woman, and we’re gonna be there for that. And they gonna have lots of beautiful babies, and we gonna be around to be proud grandparents for that too. And over the years, you gonna forget about Kat the one-eyebrow woman,” Gill’s father said, “and start to appreciate this woman here. Because she’ll be the mother of our grandkids, and the woman that makes our son so happy he won’t know whether he comin’ or goin’. And that’s what really matters here, what makes our son happy. Because, Mable, he’s the one that’s marrying her. Not you. Understand? Now I want you to apologize to our future daughter.”
Mable looked up at Asha, then down at her plate.
“C’mon, now, woman. We ain’t got all night, it’s gettin’ late and these kids need time to start working on our grandchildren before they go to bed.”
Mable looked up at her husband, then at Asha. “I’m …”
“Why don’t you stand up and say it?” Gill’s father said, smiling.
Mable gave her husband an evil glare, then stood. “I’m sorry …”
“Her name is Asha, Ma,” Gill said, still sitting.
“I’m sorry, Asha, for making those remarks. If Gill is happy and wants to marry you, then I’m happy too.” Mable said these words as if she were ill and about to vomit. “Do you accept my apology?”