The Other Side Of the Game

by Anita Doreen Diggs

  After showering, I jumped into a pair of tight fitting boot cut jeans and my favorite clingy maroon sweater. I walked back into the living room to put on my boots and was appalled to find Peaches on the couch resting near Saundra.

  “What the hell . . . get off the couch!” I screamed and gestured at the scared pooch.

  He hopped down and looked at me with confusion.

  I saw Saundra’s mouth turning down at the corners and I wasn’t in the mood for a goddamn PETA speech when this fleabag was on my nice leather couch.

  “That was completely unnecessary. He wasn’t hurting the couch,” she said, snapping her fingers for Peaches to come over to her.

  “Whatever. Let’s go,” I snapped.

  “Asha, can I ask you a question?”

  I rolled my eyes in frustration because I didn’t want my treatment of Peaches to become the subject of the evening. “What?”

  “Did you put those jeans on with a spray gun?” She laughed.

  “You’re so silly.”

  We decided to go to a nice restaurant around the corner from my house.

  A couple laughing softly, holding hands and a couple of drunk Mexicans leaving the billiards room were the only people who gave the block life. Next to the Chinese restaurant it was the opposite. A noisy crowd of people was standing on line waiting to get into a karaoke bar next door and some teenagers with a boombox stood in front of a rollerblade shop blasting techno.

  To our relief, as soon as the glass doors of the restaurant closed behind us, the noise vanished, leaving us peacefully to the light tinkle of traditional Chinese music. We were greeted cordially by a tiny woman with a short haircut and escorted to a small red booth by the window. The restaurant was dimly lit, warm, and practically empty except for the oil paintings of magnificent pagodas and bronze life-sized statues of ancient Chinese gods.

  Saundra and I caught up on three weeks worth of gossip while we ate. As I sipped my tea, I noticed twinkles of mirth in Saundra’s dark brown eyes.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “I’m thinking about how you’re using that poor man.”

  “Randy?”

  “Duh, yes, Randy,” she said, badly imitating my soft voice with her deep one.

  “I don’t use anybody. I can’t help it if men give me things because of the way I look.”

  “You know you don’t care about them but you’ll take and take and take. Have you no conscience at all?” Saundra asked as if we hadn’t had this dialogue half a dozen times already.

  “No, I don’t rob or steal. They like giving me things.”

  “They’re giving you those things in the hope of a commitment.”

  “That’s not true in every case. Brent is a married man and Randall would have to be out of his mind to think that I’d be willing to walk into a lifetime of money worries just because he can screw.”

  “What about Nick?”

  I shrugged. “Nick has promised me a beach house. I’ll decide what to do about him after I get it.”

  “You are a walking karma time bomb, you know that.”

  “Whatever.”

  I took another sip of my tea and looked at Saundra’s soft dark face. It had that I’m warning you look on it that she always gave me whenever she saw disaster. Her long ebony locks grazed her shoulders like beautiful threads of yarn. The small silver nose ring and her sterling hoops glimmered with every flicker of the red candle on the table. I decided to speak first so she wouldn’t think her threat shook me.

  “So how’re Phil and Evelyn?”

  “They’re fine. She still wants to get married but Daddy says that my wedding is enough for him to think about right now.”

  “How long does she plan to wait? It’s been six years and every year Phil comes up with another excuse. She needs to kick his ass to the curb.”

  “I know.”

  “Your father is not the type to change without a kick in the ass.”

  “You got that right,” Saundra answered dryly. “He’s a stereotypical cop, content with coffee and donuts.”

  “Phil is built like a tank. It’s hard to believe he eats so much junk food,” I observed.

  “He works hard enough to keep in shape, waking me up with that damn NordicFlex machine.”

  I daydreamed for a moment about Phil’s wonderful body and the crush I used to have on him in high school. He has the most amazing chest, with big muscles and sexy, deep-chocolate skin. When I used to visit Saundra, the highlight was seeing her father in his gray sweatpants lifting his weights, occasionally pouring water over his bald head to keep cool.

  “Asha, I need you to help me plan the wedding. Yero and I are going to choose the place but I need a woman’s help with all the other stuff.”

  “What about Evelyn?”

  “I want my sister.”

  She gave me a loving smile and it felt so good that tears pricked the back of my eyelids.

  “I want you to be my maid of honor, too. Will you?”

  I patted her hand. “Of course, baby.”

  Maid of honor! I’d have to buy a fabulous dress. Nothing off the rack. It would have to be couture. Who was going to come up with the two or three grand? Brent or Nick?

  I was snatched back to reality by a pint-sized waiter shoving a menu in my face.

  “I don’t need a menu, thanks. I’ll have the sweet and sour chicken with white rice,” I said, handing it back to him.

  “What about your dress?”

  “I’m cool. I started sketching some designs for my wedding dress yesterday.”

  “Lemme guess. It’s gonna be made of recycled burlap, a mosquito net for a veil and you’ll carry a broccoli stalk bouquet?”

  “Oh, you’re funny, Ms. Armani. I don’t think it’ll be that haute couture.”

  The waiter was looking impatient. “Would you like something to eat, miss?” he asked eagerly, turning to Saundra.

  “I’m not sure yet, let me see . . .” Saundra trailed off, wrinkling her forehead in concentration. God does that get on my damn nerves. What the hell is she thinking about! She doesn’t eat anything. The only choice she can make is to have her seaweed baked or fried.

  “I think I’ll go with the mixed vegetables, brown rice, and a spring roll without the shrimp.” She smiled.

  “Why do you do that?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “You study the menu, knowing you’re only going to eat vegetables, anyway.”

  Saundra was exasperated. “I’ve told you that I’m not going to eat anything that has a face or a spirit. But I still like to know how my vegetables are going to be prepared, so I study the menu.” She sighed heavily.

  Saundra and I are not as close as we used to be. This type of shit is the reason why.

  Chapter 17

  SAUNDRA

  There’s just something about peppermint soap and lavender oil that soothes the soul. The fallen leaves were rustling around outside as I soaked in the bathtub and it reminded me that we would all be turning our watches back in only a week. Soon it would be Halloween. Asha would need me then because it was the one day of the year she found hard to get through. Every trick-or-treater reminded her of the fetus who died six years ago. It was the day her demons danced.

  Did Mama do the right thing?

  Abortion, except in the case of rape or incest, is wrong. But I understand Mama’s fear. She was always preaching to us: Go to college, get established in a profession before you get married, don’t depend on the state, relatives or anyone else for money, and never have a baby until your act is together and the foundation of your life is strong. Mama was deathly afraid that one or both of us would turn out like her.

  The funny thing is that if mama was alive now, she would be proud of me for earning a bachelor’s degree, hate my holistic lifestyle and call me a fool for not chasing the almighty dollar.

  Asha has some education, a good job and money in the bank plus her friend Nick took her to a Caribbean resort last week. She ca
lled me to say that the place boasted a European spa, golf, scuba diving and eleven gourmet restaurants.

  Her cell phone broke a few weeks ago and Brent bought her a new one that makes mine look like a tin can. She said it is a Samsung A670 with both digital and video cameras plus high speed Internet access.

  Asha has light skin, a tiny body and small bones just like Mama, but if she were alive, Mama wouldn’t approve of Asha, either. The fact that Asha plans to stay single for the rest of her life and never have children would sadden her.

  Maybe we can never satisfy our parents.

  For example, Daddy has never said a word against Yero and is always kind to him, but I have a sneaking suspicion that he would be happier if I were getting married to someone with a more traditional job. A lawyer, a doctor, or banker.

  Maybe we just have to make ourselves happy and let the chips fall where they may.

  “Saundra!”

  It was Daddy, yelling from upstairs.

  “What?”

  “Can you come to the phone?”

  “Who is it?”

  “Yero.”

  My heart skipped a beat.

  “I’ll be right down.”

  I threw my robe on without bothering to dry off, ran down the stairs as fast as I could and picked up the receiver in the living room.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Saundra.” His voice sounded dull and tired.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Joanne had a miscarriage.”

  “Oh, my God!”

  He sighed. “Yeah. Khari just called from the hospital. He is really losing it so I’m going to run over there. Will you come, too?”

  I had planned to study all day but Yero needed me.

  Chapter 18

  ASHA

  I woke up this morning feeling blissful until I remembered what day it was. Halloween. My baby had been dead six years. Saundra phoned as if on cue.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Fine.”

  “I’ll be there in about an hour. Think of something fun to do.”

  She hung up before I could say “don’t bother” like I did every year.

  Aaargh! Am I going to be depressed every fucking Halloween for the rest of my goddamned stupid-ass miserable life?

  Think of something fun to do.

  Yes. It was Saturday so I didn’t have to go to work and Saundra had no classes, but SHIT there would be kids in costumes running up and down every street. Little human beings laughing gaily while dressed up as SpongeBob SquarePants, Dora the Explorer, and the Power Puff Girls.

  It would be unbearable!

  The only reasonable thing to do was spend the day indoors. Shopping. I was an authorized user of Nick’s MasterCard. We would hire a limousine and I would lie down in the backseat as it cruised through the streets so I couldn’t see the kids in their finery. When the limo stopped in front of a fashionable clothing boutique or shoe store, Saundra could open the door, make sure that there were no tots in sight and we’d run in.

  Much to my surprise, Saundra agreed to the plan.

  Chloe. I chose a white, waist-length military jacket with navy stripes, oversized buttons and exposed stitching. Saundra just watched.

  Hermes. A sepia patch-pocket skirt. Sandra nearly fainted at the five hundred dollar price tag.

  Burberry. A silver trench coat. Saundra closed her eyes when I tried to show her the tag.

  Saundra wouldn’t get anything and that was getting to be a drag so I told her to go home. Refusing to let me mope around the apartment, she agreed to buy some things but only if I used my own credit card and only if it was a regular department store.

  She ended up with a new backpack for her school books, a burgundy striped tie for Yero and a royal blue sweatshirt for Phil.

  Whatever.

  Back at the apartment, she fell asleep. I drank a pint of rum and joined her.

  Chapter 19

  SAUNDRA

  Yero and I were going to look at tuxedos. I had decided on lilac and silver as my wedding colors and he was unhappy at the thought of wearing a lilac cummerbund around his waist. So, we would have to meet somewhere in the middle—find some sort of compromise. I’ve always heard that wedding preparations can tear a couple apart and I refuse to lose my life partner over something as silly as a piece of fabric.

  I had met Yero Brown at a sweet sixteen party for Pastor Hoffman’s granddaughter, Sharon. Pastor Hoffman had raised Sharon since she was eight years old when both her parents died in a plane crash. They lived across the street and Sharon was the first neighborhood girl to offer me some help in adjusting to my new school.

  Yero was the cutest guy at the party and I wondered why I hadn’t seen him in the halls at school.

  Evelyn hadn’t come into my life yet so I was still pretty wild. At parties, I used to get a guy’s attention by walking straight up to him, grabbing his arm and dragging him onto the dance floor. There, he’d be blown away by my impressive dance moves. Yero was not impressed.

  He allowed me to lead him onto the floor, moved to the beat while I shimmied and twirled, then took me back to Sharon without asking for my phone number.

  I was leaning against a wall fuming about this to Sharon when Yero sauntered up to us.

  “How you doin’, Sharon?”

  “Fine, Yero. Are you here to babysit Khari?”

  Yero?

  He laughed. “Something like that.”

  I turned to walk away.

  “Wait a minute, Soul Train. Where you goin’?”

  That was funny so I turned around and smiled. “To get some punch.”

  Sharon pulled my hand. “Yero Brown, this is Saundra Patterson,” she said. “Saundra just moved in across the street from me.”

  “What happened to the cop?”

  “I’m his daughter.”

  “Oh,” said Yero. “I guess I’d better hide my stash.”

  I knew he was only teasing but the remark also let me know why the other teens seemed to be avoiding me at school and around the block.

  “Where are you moving from?” he asked.

  “Manhattan.”

  “Well,” he said, “welcome to Queens.” He grinned at both of us and strolled back into the crowd.

  Sharon told me that Yero was two years out of high school and waiting for the post office to call him. He was at the party with his brother Khari who was an eleventh-grader like me because Khari had a bad temper and would fight at the slightest provocation and Yero would keep things calm. The good news: Yero had been an excellent student, was quiet, well-mannered and had always kept at least a part-time job since he was fourteen years old, the age when New Yorkers are eligible for working papers. He was a gentleman and, although he had been seen with girls, they were always from outside the neighborhood. There was no gossip or scandal connected with Yero and his reputation was spotless.

  He didn’t approach me again and when the party ended, I went back across the street feeling very let down. It would have been nice to have a new boyfriend to go along with my new home and my new status as the only female in my daddy’s house.

  The next day I walked out of the school and turned left toward home, wondering what to do with the rest of my afternoon. I was thinking about how much I already missed Asha when a car rolled up behind me and a male voice called out.

  “Saundra!”

  I turned around. It was Yero, leaning out of the driver’s side window. “

  “Hi, Soul Train,” he said, grinning. “Come take a ride with me!”

  I jumped in and we drove all over Queens, not wanting to leave each other after the conversation started flowing. We rode, stopped for burgers and fries, rode some more and talked about a whole lot of stuff: his mom, who struggled to raise five children after his father ran off with a white nurses’ aide; my dad, who was overjoyed that we were finally going to live under the same roof; how he aced the postal exam; my dream of studying fashion design; and how we both used to smoke weed bu
t now thought that drug dealers should all be arrested and charged with attempted murder.

  Four hours later, he finally pulled up in front of my house and turned off the ignition. “Saundra, I know this is going to sound crazy but you’re the girl I’ve been looking for. Will you have me?”

  Have him? Well, I hadn’t had sex since Mama died and I did like Yero Brown an awful lot.

  “Yes, but not at my place. If Daddy caught us, he would shoot you and probably throw me in jail till my eighteenth birthday. Is there a hotel nearby?”

  “No,” said Yero, laughing heartily. “I didn’t mean sex. I want to be your boyfriend.”

  Embarrassed at the fact that I’d been willing to give it up so quickly, I tried to recapture some shred of dignity. With my nose in the air, I rattled off my phone number. “Call me and we’ll see,” was my answer.

  Now, six years later, Sharon Hoffman was a senior at a college in Arizona and Yero and I were headed for the tuxedo shop to look for a cummerbund that Yero would feel comfortable in at our wedding.

  Chapter 20

  PHIL

  I watched as Hugo, my short and stocky partner of more than ten years, paced in front of my desk. His skin seemed even whiter than usual and he kept ruffling his thinning mop of jet black hair. There was no point in telling him to calm down. Hugo worked out the tension that was part of our job in his own way. We both jumped when the phone rang.

  “Detective Patterson,” I said.

  It wasn’t the call we’d been waiting for.

  “Phil, I need a favor.”

  “Spit it out, James. I don’t have much time.”

  David James was a fellow detective who had a serious gambling problem. He was always coming up short on cash and I had a bad habit of helping him out.

  “Can you let me hold a hundred dollars till next Tuesday?”