by RM Johnson
On the drive home from picking up Kyle at day care, she was nonresponsive to her own son because her damn mind was so clogged up with what Asha could’ve been thinking at that moment. Was she crying? Was she hurting? Or did she take it in stride? She was a beautiful woman, and she was sure that there had to be a number of other women who were just as attracted to her as Angie was. These could’ve been the same women that Asha massaged routinely. One of those women, or maybe a new one, like Angie had been, could feel something for Asha. A woman could come in, lie on Asha’s table for the first time, and when Asha placed her magical hands on her body, making all the stressful tension melt away, exciting a new, lustful tension, making her body warm and wet in that familiar place, that woman could fall for Asha, just as Angie had.
When Angie thought about this, she wanted to yank the wheel of her car hard to the right, do a U-turn, and race back to that spa to tell Asha that there was nobody else that she could be with but her.
But she couldn’t do that. And why was that? she asked herself, as she walked across her driveway. She didn’t have to search hard for the answer. It was holding on to her hand at that moment, walking floating a halfwrapped Snickers bar through the air like it was Superman.
When she got into the house, she released Kyle and let him run free and do what he normally did after they got home: go crazy. Angie went to her purse, pulled out her cell phone, hoping to see that Asha had called, but when she didn’t see her number on the phone, she told herself it didn’t matter.
Deric had called while they were on their way home, as he did every day. Just before she heard the phone ring, she had been wishing that once, only once, he would just miss one day of calling. He was the last person she felt like speaking to.
“Hey, baby, you pick up Kyle yet?”
And he knew the answer to that, had always known the fucking answer to that, but he asked the ridiculous question anyway, which made no sense to her. It was like him calling and asking her, “Hey, baby, are you still black?” Or, “Hey, baby, you still female, still have two legs, two eyes, and a freakin’ nose in the middle of your face?” Yes, yes, yes! “Yeah … he’s in the backseat. Wanna talk to him?”
And before she even heard Deric’s reply, she handed the phone back.
“Cowboy, phone for you.”
“Daddy!” And the ritual continued.
The boy seemed so in love with that man. That was another reason Angie couldn’t just drop everything and hook up with the first woman she could possibly see a future with. She would in essence be taking her son’s father from him. And considering that when Kyle was conceived, she’d thought she would be bringing him into the world fatherless, it would seem like a hell of a cruel thing to do, to snatch the man away who had happily taken on the responsibility of being a father to him.
But would it really matter to her son in the long run?
“Cowboy,” Angie called loud enough for her son to hear her from upstairs, as she dug three Double Stuff Oreo cookies out of the Cookie Monster cookie jar. “Come down here a minute, would you please?”
His footsteps pounded quickly above Angie’s head, and then she heard them coming down the stairs. A moment later he was standing in front of her, a beach towel hanging from his neck like a cape, and a headless GI Joe in his hand.
“Yeah, Mommy.”
“C’mere, let’s sit for a minute,” she said, placing a hand atop his head, and leading him over to the sofa. He crawled up on it, and she sat down beside him.
“Want a cookie?”
“Yeah!” He said eagerly, plucking one out of her hand, pulling it apart and licking the cream filling.
“Is that good?” Angie asked him.
Kyle nodded his head and started eating the crunchy cookie.
How was she supposed to go about this? Angie thought to herself. But there was no tactful way, and even though she knew the answer, knew the reaction her son would have before she asked the question, she asked it anyway.
“Do you like Daddy?” The question sounded even more ridiculous aloud than it did in her head.
Kyle looked at her like, “Duh!”—like she was crazy for a moment—and he had every right.
“I like him. I like him a lot.”
“A whole lot?”
“A whole, whole lot, Mommy. He’s Daddy,” Kyle said, as if enlightening her to information she hadn’t already known.
“And how would you feel if Daddy had to go away? If he couldn’t be here with us?”
Immediately, Kyle’s face started to wrinkle, his chin started to collapse, and before he could let out his first whine, Angie said, “No, no, no, don’t do that. Daddy’s not going anywhere.”
“Then why did you say that?” Kyle asked.
I don’t know. Just wanted to know if you’d miss him if I dumped him and replaced him with a woman, traded in Daddy for another Mommy, she was thinking. But as she had known, and now as Kyle had just confirmed, she couldn’t do that.
“I don’t know, I was just wondering,” Angie finally said. “Here, want another cookie?” she said, handing her son another, and eating the last herself.
That was hours earlier, and now she was sitting at the dinner table. It was a small round table, really meant for two, but since Kyle was just a child, he could fit in, and it made things very cozy. At least that’s how Deric saw it. He’d picked up the table from a resale shop, and stuck it under the skylight windows in the kitchen. “Let’s eat on the Table,” he would say with a smile sometimes if he’d made a special dish, or if he had something exciting he wanted to talk about, or if he was just feeling like he wanted to bump elbows when he ate. That’s all that was happening at that moment, which wasn’t a good thing, considering how every little thing was aggravating Angie at that moment, and especially considering since what to do with Deric was at the root of her aggravation.
“You want some more gravy, sweetheart?” Deric asked, picked up the pourer, dousing her pork chop with more gravy before she had a chance to answer.
“No, I didn’t. But since you wanted me to have some more, I guess I’ll take it,” Angie said, not sparing his feelings.
He looked at her, hurt, the cup of gravy still in his hand, still dripping over her pork chop.
“I’m sorry. I was just trying to …”
“Well, I don’t need you to try to do anything for me, all right?”
“I guess that includes making this dinner, hunh?” Deric said.
“I didn’t ask you to make dinner. You just came in and made it like you always do.”
“Yeah, and I thought that would’ve counted for something,” Deric said, pulling his napkin from his lap, balling it up, and throwing it down onto his half-finished plate of food. “But I guess me being thoughtful and helpful around here doesn’t mean anything to you.” He stood, picked up the plate, and took it over to the kitchen sink.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?” Kyle said, holding a half-eaten pork chop in his hand, a worried expression on his face.
“Yes, I would like to know that too. What’s wrong with you, Angie? You’ve been acting funky like this since I walked in this evening.”
Angie wanted to say it was nothing, wanted to say it was work, or her period, or she just didn’t know, but she knew exactly what it was. It was that damn girl that she’d been thinking about all day. If Deric hadn’t been around, would she be with Asha? She wasn’t one hundred percent sure, but she did know that if he wasn’t in her life, she would at least have the opportunity to look into it.
“Did you hear what I asked you?” Deric said, pulling Angie out of her thoughts.
She looked up at him, realizing that he was right. He was nothing but caring and helpful, and because she was having personal issues, he had to be hit with her being a bitch today.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Angie said, pushing herself away from the table, walking over to him, taking the plate out of his hand, setting it down, and then hugging him and giving him a kiss. “It was just a reall
y rough day at work, and I wasn’t able to shake it before I came home. Do you forgive me?”
“Well, what happened? We can talk about it.”
“No. I’m done thinking about it. I’m done ruining our evening,” she said, turning and directing what she was saying to her son as well. Kyle was smiling now. The worry was gone from his face, and that made Angie know that she couldn’t possibly do what she had entertained, even if she really wanted to. Her son’s happiness was directly linked to whether this man was around, and she couldn’t see putting her desires in front of her son’s well-being. She just couldn’t. She would have to get rid of Asha, once and for all.
26
The next morning, I woke up in Asha’s bed. She had already gone to work. I had heard her moving around as quietly as possible, getting ready, trying not to wake me. It was just like it was so many years ago when I would stay the night at her place, and she would kiss me before going to work.
She did the same thing this morning, and as I lay there in her bed, tangled up in her sheets, smelling her scent, I felt happy that we were back together. No, it wasn’t exactly official, we hadn’t shaken on it or anything, but I’d known her long enough to know that we were back on.
Our second session of lovemaking was as phenomenal as the first, with only one shortcoming. Although she seemed as though she was loving every moment of it, she also seemed somewhat distracted, like something was seriously on her mind. I assumed it was Gill and the argument they had just had. And considering they were supposed to be getting married soon, considering they had almost been together a year, of course, she should’ve felt a little bad for dumping him just like that for me.
But things were better this way, for everyone, I thought, as I climbed out of bed. Gill was a nice guy, but from my point of view, Asha never seemed to be as into him as she should’ve been. Then again, she wasn’t that into me back then either. But after last night, things between us seemed different.
Everything seemed to have worked out for the best, because if I hadn’t caught Faith with that man, then I wouldn’t have gotten back with Asha again, and … I had to stop thinking about Faith, because whenever I did that image of her with that man would pop into my head, and I would have a sharp second of torture.
Now that I was back with Asha, I would forget her soon enough. I was sure of it.
I walked into Asha’s kitchen, opened the fridge, pulled out a gallon of O.J. and a peach yogurt. I poured myself a healthy glass of juice, peeled off the foil top of the yogurt, and was about to drop it in the trash when I saw the tape sitting there.
I held that little foil top over the trash, not letting it go, just looking down at that tape. I knew what had probably happened. Asha was so outraged, so upset over the tape, that after she viewed it, she yanked it from the VCR and tossed it in the trash, telling herself that it was best that I never saw the thing again. She was right, I knew that. But if I really did know that, why was I still standing over that trash can, that messy yogurt foil top still in my hand, still staring down at that tape like it had some kind of power over me.
Walk away, Jayson, I told myself, and that’s what I did, without throwing away the trash in my hand. But when I noticed that I was still holding it and went back to discard it, I quickly plucked the tape out of the trash before doing so.
Would I look at it again? I seriously doubted that. I had, against my will, copied everything on that tape onto my brain anyway. So I didn’t know why I had to keep it. I just did.
When I walked into my place, I sat the tape down on top of the TV. I took two steps toward my bedroom, but then turned around, grabbed the cassette, opened the entertainment center glass doors, and put the tape down there with all the other videotapes. I was about to close the doors, when I reached back in, took out the tape, and against my better judgment, pushed it into the VCR. I turned on the television and the VCR, pressed Play, and stood in front of the TV, my arms crossed over my chest, preparing myself once again for the imminent pain.
The hotel room appeared on the screen again, but what I was looking at was myself. Asha must’ve left off at the moment I walked in that room, and just looking at that picture of myself transported me back there, to that moment, and how shocked, horrified, and hurt I was.
“It’s not what …,” the man said, finally seeing me, and backing away from Faith. The camera caught just his face. He looked to be in as much shock as I was, his eyes white and round with fear. It was a different shock, but shock all the same, and I had to hold on to that image.
I quickly picked up the remote and paused the tape, staring at his face. This was the first time I’d really paid attention to him. Like any other man would’ve done, I should’ve beat his naked ass down, right there in that room, left him bleeding and barely breathing on that hotel room carpet. If I had, I probably would’ve been feeling better by now, or at least not as affected by this tape. But I had done nothing, and he’d got away clean with fucking the girl I loved, and ruining the rest of my life. If I heard Karen correctly, which I’m sure I had, he knew that I was supposed to be marrying Faith, and for that reason alone, he shouldn’t have had anything to do with her.
Filled with hate, I looked at his frozen face again there on the television screen. And I knew, considering what he had done to me, what he had taken from me, this couldn’t be the last time I saw his face.
I picked up my phone, dialed information to get the number where Karen worked, and then I called her.
“What was his name?” I asked Karen the moment I heard her voice.
“Well, hello, Jayson. I thought I’d never hear from you again,” Karen said.
“I never said that.”
“That’s what it seemed like.”
“I’m sorry if it seemed that way. But considering what happened, and all you laid in my lap, it wouldn’t be wrong if I never did speak to you again,” I told her.
“I told you I only did it because—”
“I know, Karen. And I know, someday, in some strange way, I may appreciate it. But for right now, can you tell me the name of the guy Faith was with?”
“Why?” Karen asked, suspicion in her voice.
“Just tell me!”
“Gary. His name is Gary Robinson.”
“Gary Robinson.” I said his name softly to myself.
“Yeah.”
“And where does he live?”
“Why do you want to know that?” she asked, sounding even more suspicious. “You aren’t going to go over there and put his son’s rabbit in a pot of boiling water, are you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Fatal Attraction shit. You saw the movie.”
“Just give me the address, Karen, and I promise I won’t hurt the man, or his son’s damn rabbit.”
“What makes you think I’d have his address, anyway?”
I wondered if she thought I was stupid. “For as long as you say Faith has been seeing this man, you being her best friend, she’s never told you where he lives, and you never asked?”
Karen seemed as though she was seriously thinking it over.
“I told you, I won’t do anything foolish. Just give it to me.”
Finally, she told me it was the big brown brick house, with red awnings, halfway down South Oakley Street.
“So just why do you want it?” Karen asked. “What are you planning on doing with it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe nothing, but I just needed to have it. Thank you,” I said, getting off the phone before she tried to get into conversation about anything involving the two of us.
I waited till 4 P.M. when I got into my car and headed toward the South Side of Chicago. I think I remember Karen telling me he was a banker or something like that, and I figured he wouldn’t have gotten off work any time before then.
I exited from the expressway and headed west toward Beverly. It was a quaint residential area, once considered upper class, and inhabited by only whites in the seventies and early eighti
es. Now it was at least half black, and moving more in that direction every day.
The houses were nice, brick buildings, beautifully designed architecture. The lawns were manicured, the properties well maintained. I took a left off Ninety-ninth Street onto Oakley. I was looking for this big brown house, and thought, could she have been any less descriptive? Of course there was more than one of them, but I saw the red awnings and figured that to be the one. It was 7326 South Oakley. I slowed down some, eyeing it, scribbled the address down on a scrap of paper, and stuck it in my pocket, just in case, for some reason, I needed to remember it another time. The house was as neat and clean as the rest of the houses on the street, a black wrought-iron fence around the property, a red mailbox just outside the fence that read The Robinsons in white block letters.
I came to a stop, half expecting someone to walk out the front door, maybe him, maybe the wife I’d heard he had. But when no one came out, I placed my car in park and just sat there continuing to stare at his house. I looked at the windows trying to see inside, even though it was impossible from this distance. I wanted to see if there was anything in that house that would’ve helped me understand what led Faith to this man, what kept her dealing with him, even though she knew he had this sort of obligation.
I wondered if Faith had ever been here, and if she had, what she thought of this place. Did she imagine that once they were married, the two of them would share something similar, or better? Faith probably saw this place and liked it, I thought, slumping some in my seat and turning off the engine.
She probably could’ve had it a week ago. But now it was too late, for there on the front lawn was a huge Century 21 sign, declaring the house sold. I figured that after Gary gave his wife the news, maybe she could no longer afford the place on her own, or maybe she just didn’t want it any longer.