Take Her Man

by Grace Octavia

  I can’t lie, I was with them. I just wanted to support my nana and the magic she was able to make happen through her talent. For a second, with my hands clasped over my mouth, I imagined what it must be like to have such an amazing talent and not be able to share it with the world. I wondered what it must have been like for my nana back in the old days when people refused to let her do what she does best just because of her skin color. While she and Grandma Lucy had very different realities in life, I’d bet neither of them were easy. Grandma Lucy had to constantly try to be what society wanted her to be, and Nana Rue had to fight just to be herself. Simply said, diva-dom was no simple task.

  “Oh, Troy, I’m so happy you’re here, baby,” Nana Rue said, smiling at my reflection behind her in her vanity mirror. I’d sneaked Julian backstage to meet her before she went into the ballroom to greet her guests. I also wanted to avoid seeing my parents.

  “Nana Rue, you know I never miss your performances.” I smiled back at her. While Nana Rue’s driver’s license proved she’d been a senior citizen for a few years, her beauty told another tale. Her enviable, even brown skin looked as if she’d just been dipped into a vat of fresh brewed black coffee. It was taut and still managed to remain soft enough to make other women her age wonder if she’d made some kind of anti-aging deal with the devil. Her wide brown eyes still danced with the enthusiasm of a teenager. She’d clearly seen many things through the years, but let them all roll off her back and managed to keep a smile sparkling in her soul that was evident to everyone who met her.

  “Never one, baby.” Nana Rue pulled at the curls on her wig. “And who is your friend?” She turned around in her seat and signaled for the two of us to sit down. “Who is this piece of pie I see in my eye?” Nana Rue asked, flirting with a quick rhyme.

  “This is Dr. Julian James, Nana Rue,” I replied, taking a seat on the red chaise lounge she had put in all of her dressing rooms. “Remember the friend I wanted you to meet?”

  “Yes, you did mention a friend.” She looked at me and then back at Julian.

  “It’s my pleasure to meet such a luminary figure in African-American history,” Julian said, kissing Nana Rue’s hand.

  “African-American history?” She pursed her lips together. “I know I’m old, but history?”

  “I apologize, Ms. Smith. I just find it hard not to admire a rose when I see a rose.” Julian genuflected in a way I’d never ever seen him do for me.

  “Manners and charm…I like this one, Troy.” Nana Rue allowed him to kiss her hand. “Especially if he’s the reason you look so marvelous!” Nana Rue snapped her fingers and winked at me. “Turn around—let me look at you.”

  “It’s just a new look,” I said, turning around. “The preview was great.”

  “Yes, it was Ms. Smith,” Julian chimed in.

  “Well, I guess I’ll have to make sure Troy brings you out to see the entire thing.”

  “I’d love that. And my parents are members of the theater, so I’m sure they’ll see it, too,” Julian said just as his pager went off. He slipped it from his hip with both of our eyes on him.

  “Everything okay, son?” Nana Rue asked.

  “Yes, it’s work,” he said. He looked at me. “I have to call in. Just one second.” He quickly excused himself, stepping out of the dressing room to make the call in the hallway.

  Nana Rue turned back to her mirror, begging me to ask for her thoughts with a huge grin splashed across her face.

  “Stop it,” I said.

  “What?” She smiled at me in the mirror and went to dapping off her makeup.

  “You know you have something to say. You always do.”

  “Dr. Feeeeeelgood,” she sang. “Looks good…sounds good…wonder if he tastes good!”

  “Stop it!” I scoffed, praying Julian couldn’t hear her.

  “You asked my opinion, baby.” She turned to me and reached for my hands. “Just calm down. I was just playing with you. I know you young folks don’t like to think about us grown people making love—”

  “Nana Rue!” I protested. We both laughed.

  “Look, he seems like a nice young man. Just make sure Dr. Feelgood actually makes you feel good.” She stood up and kissed me on the forehead. “And if he doesn’t,” she said, looking into my eyes, “you may need to go someplace else to get that good feeling.” She took a quick dramatic step, snapped her fingers and laughed.

  “Nana Rue!”

  When Julian and I walked out of the theater, he was smiling at me, leading me down the steps with a confident hand placed protectively in the small of my back. We were laughing and going over the parts of the preview we liked most. It felt like old times. We’d always been active together, enjoying each other’s company as we watched plays and went to the opera, roller skating, even strawberry-picking in the Spring when he had a few days off. We joked and jived in a way that made people walking by look at us if we’d been together for years. Older women nodded their heads at me with a look of approval as they seemed to be reminiscing about some great love in their past.

  “I might’ve gone for her back in the day,” Julian said as we joked about how Nana Rue still managed to be a beautiful leading lady.

  “Don’t talk about getting with my Nana!” I laughed, standing beside Julian in front of the theater.

  “She’s fine, though. She has that cool old lady strut.” He took a few steps to show off his rendition of Nana Rue’s hip-pounding walk. It was kind of fly.

  “Stop it,” I grabbed his arm. “She might see you.” I let go and turned to look at the building to be sure neither Nana Rue nor my parents were walking out. My mother would show out even more if she realized I’d been there and hadn’t said hello.

  “You didn’t have to let go,” Julian whispered in my ear.

  “What?” I asked startled.

  “Of my arm.” He kissed me on the lips slowly and softly. It was mesmerizing, like pouring hot chocolate on a cube of ice. I was melting fast.

  “Please, I’m sure the physical isn’t a good idea right now,” I said flustered. “Besides, I was just joking.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Julian, let’s not go there. We’re just supposed to be hanging out.” I couldn’t believe what I was saying, but once again, I had to stick to the plan.

  “I know. I know.” He stepped back and shook his head. “Look, where’s your car? I’ll just walk you to your car and say goodnight.”

  “It’s down the street, but I can get there by myself.” I wasn’t comfortable with Julian walking me to the car. That would surely lead to an odd moment where we’d have to find a way to say goodbye. That would make me weak and I wasn’t about to let myself break down.

  “You sure?” he asked. “I don’t want you walking down the street alone.”

  “Please, there are still people out here, silly.” I pointed to the last few stragglers heading out of the theater.

  “Fine,” he said reluctantly. “I guess this is it then.” He paused. “But before you go, I just have to say one thing, then that’s it. Okay?”

  “What?”

  “You’re one amazing woman. All any man could want.”

  “Thank you,” I said, half praying he would keep going and stop at the same time. My weak side wanted to—needed to—hear what he was saying, but my strong side knew it was a bad idea to listen to the pantry-charming play.

  “No, I’m serious. You know, as we walked around in there, I was watching everyone and thinking about you and how you were the most beautiful woman in the room.”

  I couldn’t say anything. I was speechless. Well, not exactly. I was happy to hear his words, but at the moment all I could think of were a few choice questions. The first one was, “Well, if you feel that way, why did you break up with me?” But time and experience taught me that asking that would only amount to me pushing him and the last thing I needed to do to a vulnerable man that was expressing himself was push. He’d just run. Julian would have to figure out the answe
r to that question on his own.

  “It’s hard being around you right now,” he continued, “I just want to hold you and take you home with me.”

  “Well, we have to do what’s right. As friends.”

  “Yeah…I know. So, when do we friends get to hang out again?”

  “I don’t know,” I teased. “I guess I’ll have to let your people get with my people and then maybe we can work something out. I’m a busy lady, you know?”

  “I know,” he said. “I’ll have to have my people get with your people then…sooner rather than later.” He hugged me and gave me a quick kiss on the tip of my nose. “Goodnight beautiful.”

  I felt like I’d lost ten pounds, walking back to my car. I was light as a feather, floating on air like an angel. The perfect result of step one was all I could’ve wished for. Miata’s wicked spell was already breaking and I was so happy, so very happy that I didn’t notice the gaping hole in the space where my car was supposed to be. I looked up and down Adam Clayton Powell Boulevard, trying to remember where I’d parked, when I realized I was standing there. Right there. The first thing that came to my mind was that someone had stolen the car. I pulled my cell phone from my purse.

  As I dialed 9-1-1, I looked up at a sign that was posted on the curb beside the spot where the car had been. It was one of those red and white parking signs that people tend to miss when they’re in a rush. I was afraid to read the sign. Afraid to discover the fate of my vehicle.

  NO PARKING 6 p.m.–6 a.m., Fruitlessly—since it was 10 o’clock at night—I tried to remember when I’d parked the car. It was at least 7:30 p.m. I remembered because I’d been late meeting Julian. I closed the phone just as the operator picked up. My car hadn’t been stolen by a damn fool. It was towed because my fool ass had parked it illegally! I wanted to fall out right there in the empty space, but then I’d ruin my new DVF dress.

  Just as I contemplated walking back inside to explain everything to my parents, who’d never let me live it down, a black BMW pulled up beside me.

  “Need some help?” the driver asked. I peeked in the window to see who it was. Rev. Dr. Hall had shown up in the nick of time again. “Car get towed?” he asked, looking up at the sign behind me.

  “Looks like it,” I answered reluctantly, turning to face the theater to make sure my parents hadn’t sneaked up behind me. Kyle smiled and turned on the light in his car.

  “It’s pretty late. You need a lift? I can take you to the garage to claim it or home if you just don’t feel like dealing with it tonight,” Kyle said, sounding a bit too hospitable. I imagined that he was behind this entire drama. He’d set up the entire thing: He’d scheduled Julian at the hospital so he would have to leave early; he’d made me park in the stupid spot so my car would get towed; and he’d called the tow company. Yeah, I know, it was a stretch, but he was tight with the man upstairs.

  “Okay, Kyle,” I said, walking up to the window. “I’ll let you take me home as long as you promise not to tell my father this ever happened…like, ever.”

  “Well, I can’t tell a lie if he asks me directly, but I can try to avoid the topic.” How smug. It was gonna be a long ride back to Chelsea.

  I exhaled and looked up and down the street. Not a cab in sight.

  “Okay,” I said and got in.

  Kyle and I laughed the entire way downtown to my apartment. He did an impression of the look on my face when he’d pulled up beside me on the street, and I couldn’t stop giggling. Maybe it was the wine I’d had at the bar earlier. Maybe it was just because I really needed to laugh. But he was hilarious. He said I’d looked like I was about to key every car on the block because mine had gotten towed. “I had to stop you from getting arrested,” he said jokingly.

  I found Kyle’s humor comforting. He seemed to know just what to say to make me smile, and while I couldn’t get over the fact that he was somebody’s pastor, I was beginning to like him. Maybe I could hook him up with Tamia, I joked with myself as Kyle pulled into a space in front of my building.

  “Oh, you don’t need to walk me up. I’m fine from here,” I said, watching him turn off the ignition. What was he trying to come upstairs for? Evening worship in my bedroom?

  “I’m a gentleman, Troy.” Kyle got out of the car and came over to open my door. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  As Kyle helped me out of the car, I realized again how tall he was. Though he was a little stocky for my taste, he could pass for a basketball player.

  “Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen,” he said, walking into the building with me.

  “Nothing?” I asked, assuming the nothing he was referring to was sex.

  “Not a thing.”

  “Well, how much nothing has there been?” I toyed with him, stepping into the elevator.

  “Funny. But that’s not the nothing I meant.” He gave me a look that had you’re a nasty girl written all over it. “What floor?” he asked.

  “Ten.”

  “But if you’re asking about something.” This time he was talking my talk. He reached over me to press the button. “Then you can know, there’s never been something.”

  “Never?” I was stunned. Surely we were talking about two different things. Suddenly I hated allusive conversations. But how skanky would I look if I asked the pastor straight out: Boy, are you a damn virgin?

  “So, never…never?” I repeated for the only kind of clarity one can get in these conversations filled with innuendo.

  “Never,” he said with no shame.

  I had a million questions for Kyle about his never when the elevator doors finally opened on my floor. A grown-ass thirty-year-old virgin? All those years in Hot-lanta and nothing? All those women at the church and nothing? Everyone knew that pastors dipped into both the collection plate and the parishioners.

  When I stepped out of the elevator, pushing the envelope a step further with each question I asked Kyle, I saw Tasha sitting on the floor in front of my apartment. I could tell she was crying by the pile of tissues in front of her. I rushed over to her, with Kyle following close behind me. He bent down to help her up.

  “Tash, what happened? Are you okay?” I asked. “Why are you crying?”

  “It’s nothing,” Tasha managed. Her mascara was everywhere and I could barely see her eyes. I checked her face for bruises. You never know. “I just needed to talk.” She began to sob loudly.

  “I can leave if this isn’t a good time,” Kyle said, holding Tasha up.

  “Yeah, I think I need to be with her.” I picked up Tasha’s purse from the floor.

  “No, I’ll leave if you have company,” Tasha said. She looked at Kyle and then back at me. “I just didn’t know where else to go.” She blew her nose in a napkin that looked like it had already been used.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Kyle massaged her shoulder. “I was just leaving anyway. Troy, I’ll see you later.”

  I opened the door to my apartment and Tasha walked in. I looked back at Kyle, who had already made his way to the elevator and then waved.

  “Thanks, Kyle,” I said.

  “No problem. I couldn’t leave you standing out there.”

  “No, not just the ride. Thanks for everything. You really helped me in ways I can’t explain.” I had to say it.

  The elevator doors opened up.

  “Well, you can make it up to me if you like,” Kyle said, holding the doors open with his foot. “Dinner…8 p.m. tomorrow at Paola’s?”

  I exhaled and grinned. Sneaky Christian Kyle.

  “Okay,” I said.

  Dinner wouldn’t hurt. No, it wouldn’t.

  “Don’t stand me up now!”

  “I got it.” I laughed at his insistence. “8 p.m. Paolo’s.”

  “What happened, baby?” I said, rushing over to the couch where Tasha was sitting. Pookie Po was sitting at her feet and she was still crying.

  “Well, you know what I told you the other day?” Tasha asked. She looked a mess, wearing old ripped jea
ns and a T-shirt.

  “You mean the baby? What about it?”

  “Well, it’s not going to happen. I’m not having a baby.” Tasha punched the arm of the couch and Pookie Po jumped up.

  “Lionel doesn’t want it?”

  “No, I still haven’t told him.”

  “So what is it?” I asked. It was the first time I’d seen her so worked up.

  “I can’t have a baby,” Tasha blurted out. She pulled a piece of pink paper from her purse and handed it to me.

  “What is this?” I said, unraveling the crumpled-up piece of paper.

  “Remember when I said I stopped taking the pill?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that was about two months ago,” Tasha went on. “After the first month, I was a bit worried when nothing happened. So I decided to wait another month. But then there was nothing.”

  “Okay,” I said, reading the paper: PATIENT LAB REPORT—Natasha Adrianna St. Simon.

  “Well, last week I couldn’t take it anymore, so I went to my gyn to see what was wrong. And today I got the results.” Tasha pointed to the paper. “Read it.” Tasha grabbed the paper from me and held it up in my face.

  “It says I can’t have a baby,” Tasha cried. Her words hit my heart like a sack of quarters. I took the paper from her hands and pulled her into my arms.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that, Tasha,” I said. “I’m so sorry.” I rocked her back and forth slowly. “Are you sure they have the right diagnosis? What exactly did they say?”

  “It’s my fallopian tubes. The doctor said they’re blocked, so my eggs can’t get fertilized,” Tasha cried into my chest. “Not without surgery, but even then it may not happen.”

  I stroked Tasha’s back and fought to hold back my own tears.

  “Well, you said it yourself, Tasha. You can’t get pregnant the regular way, but there are other options,” I said. “Like in-vitro or something. Have you discussed that with the doctors?”

  “Yes. They’re going to let me know on Monday if it’s even possible.”