The Other Side Of the Game

by Anita Doreen Diggs

  “I thought you didn’t have time to plan a wedding,” I mocked.

  “Well things just sort of worked out that way.” Saundra sighed peacefully.

  The phone beeped on my other line. “Saundra, I’ll speak to you later, that’s probably Randy.”

  “Let me know what happens in the hood,” she teased.

  I laughed and clicked over.

  The ride uptown was terrible. Not only did it take us forever to find a cab to go to Harlem, the driver barely spoke English. His dark red turban shook affirmatively with every question asked of him and he continued to check his rearview mirror to pulse the level of Randy’s and my frustration. After circling one particular row of condemned houses for the thousandth time, Randy and I decided to walk. We would rather take the chance of a possible tangle with some crackheads than knowing we were going to go to jail for killing Rahij Singh.

  We were only two blocks away from his house and I felt horrified and dismayed with every sound of empty crack vials crunching loudly under my heeled feet. It was an unusually warm day for the middle of November and, of course, that meant every snaggle-toothed drunk was out, lying about their glorious pasts. Randy looked a little embarrassed that some spoke and even referred to him as the “Lil’ Thompson boy.”

  The tenement he grew up in was filthy and decayed. It appeared to have been a rust color, but time and negligence made even that indecipherable. Even the couple of stray dogs nearby seemed lifeless and without hope. I had to admire Randy for being where he is today after seeing such depression day in and day out.

  The air inside the building was thin and stale. It smelled like everything that had happened in the building in the last thirty years. The odors from the new Thanksgiving meals being cooked were destined to become added to the decayed old stench.

  The sounds of the staticky TVs, blaring radios, and laughter ricocheted off the thin walls as we creaked up the stairs. When we approached his mother’s door on the third floor, we both began adjusting ourselves to be more presentable. He knocked on a door with a small metal latch attached to the peephole and we heard a little girl with a raspy voice ask who it was.

  “That’s my niece.” Randy grinned.

  When she opened the door I almost fainted. She was the ugliest little thing I ever saw. No more than seven years old, she had mounds of fat that caused her eyes to chink up from the pressure. Her cheeks hung down like the jowls on a bulldog. A ruffly, flower print dress didn’t help and the ghetto hairdo wouldn’t have been complete if her mother hadn’t put the whole pack of barrettes on her two inches of hair.

  “Uncle Randy!” she said, opening her arms for a hug.

  “How’s uncle’s princess?” he exclaimed.

  Princess? I wondered as I looked at the blob.

  I quickly scanned the room and it was nice and clean for where his mother lived. Pictures in vintage wooden frames aligned the walls and her aged dining room table sat proudly in the center of the room. A centerpiece was attempted with a tacky arrangement of discount store plastic flowers.

  “Hi. My name is Alize,” she said, smiling, extending her chubby little hand.

  “I’m Asha, and how are you doing?”

  “Fine. Happy Thanksgiving.”

  The whole time we were standing there, Randy stared at this kid as if she was a jewel. I struggled to hold back my disgust. Simply looking at that child should be enough reason for condom usage.

  “Where’s Mommy and Nana?” he asked.

  “They’re in the kitchen,” she said, skipping into one of the back rooms.

  “Asha, you want something while I’m in the kitchen?”

  “No, thanks.”

  When he passed through the long amber-colored beads that led into the kitchen, I heard an uproar of joyous greeting from his mother. I took off my coat and laid it down on a stray chair next to the antique grandfather clock. As I began looking at family pictures, a thin, gray-haired woman with a warm smile approached me.

  “Asha, I’m junior’s mother. It’s so wonderful to finally see your face,” she said, giving me a hug.

  “Nice to meet you too, Ms. Thompson,” I said, flashing my brightest smile.

  “You’re so pretty, now I know why junior’s been so crazy about you.”

  I smiled uneasily at the sound of the man I sleep with being referred to as “junior.”

  “Make yourself at home. I’m putting the finishing touches on dinner right now.” She beamed and went back into the kitchen. I heard heavy footsteps behind me and I turned around. What I met was a three-hundred-pound, high-yellow woman wearing a bright orange spandex and a Little Kim T-shirt.

  “You must be Velma,” I said, smiling.

  “Yeah, who are you?” she said, beating the flour off her humongous thighs, sizing me up.

  “I’m Asha, your brother’s friend.”

  “Never heard of you, but hi,” she said, waddling into the kitchen.

  I stared sorrowfully at her blonde finger-waved head, which looked minuscule in comparison with her enormous bulk. She also had a mug on her, not as bad as her daughter, Alize, but she was definitely a runner-up.

  It amused me to see pictures of Randy’s evolution from infancy to adulthood but one in particular interested me. It was a photo of Randy and a pretty, light-skinned girl with long black hair. It said “Forever” on the bottom in pink bubble letters with a thin paper frame like it was taken at a fair. They were obviously in love because he was gazing at her the same way he looks at me now. I was curious to find out why they broke up, to see if there was a way I could repeat whatever went wrong.

  Velma thundered back into the room and stood there eyeballing me again. It was now obvious that she’s one of those fat chicks who can’t stand thin women, so I had to flatter her to get the information I wanted. I quickly remembered seeing an awful picture of her at a prom with her pitifully scrawny-looking date. They looked like the simp and the blimp, but I could tell by her facial expression in the shot that she thought they had it going on.

  “You looked really nice at your prom, what year was that?”

  “Thank you, I think it was ’81, when the Sugarhill Gang was big.”

  “Mmm.”

  “So what you do?” she said, sitting down on one of the dining room chairs.

  “I’m an accessories buyer at Macy’s.”

  “Was dat?” she retorted with her face twisted.

  “It’s when you choose wallets and belts for . . .”

  “You make a lot of money?”

  “I do okay,” I answered, appalled by her lack of class.

  “You think you can hook me up? I’m tired of being on welfare, they hassle me so.”

  “You ever worked in a store before?”

  “Kentucky Fried Chicken, but that was only for the summer while my friend Kiki had her baby.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  Just when I was going to run out screaming, leaving a body-print through the wall like a cartoon character, Randy and Ms. Thompson emerged with platters of food. It smelled great and I looked forward to a nice meal after such a tough journey.

  “Alize! Ms. Thompson screamed.

  “Alize, the food is ready!” Velma bellowed, obviously knowing how to summon her youngster.

  Alize appeared rapidly with the mention of feeding her fat little face. Randy and his mother returned to the kitchen.

  “Who’s that girl with Randy in the picture up there?” I asked, pointing in its direction.

  Her big round face crept towards me as if she was going to tell me her deepest darkest secret.

  “That was Randy’s fiancée, Tracy. She died just a couple of weeks after that picture was taken.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “She was in a car accident while she was visiting her folks in Michigan. Skull was all crushed up and shit, couldn’t even open the casket at the funeral.”

  Oh, well, I thought. So much for copying the ex.

  “I thought my brother was goin’
to die, too, when it happened. It took him a long time just to get out bed. But I didn’t like that bitch or her family anyway. I hate those light-skinned people. They think they’re better than everyone.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. The accident was bad enough but her disrespect for the dead girl shocked me.

  “That’s terrible,” I said, looking at the photo again.

  “Don’t mention it, though. He gets all funny when we talk about her and it ain’t worth his attitude.”

  “No problem.”

  I noticed Alize’s facial expression as me and Velma talked, and she was stiff as a board. She didn’t look remotely alive until they brought out the food. I felt kind of sorry for her because it was obvious she was eating to cover some deeper emotional turmoil. Being named Alize was bad enough.

  I couldn’t wait to get home to call Saundra and tell her what happened. It was killing me that her phone was busy, so I had to dial *66 to get a ring back when she was off the phone. The Pattersons are the only people I know who have not taken advantage of call waiting. Phil’s philosophy is that if you want to talk to him that bad, you’ll wait. I guess he’s right, but they really need to come into the twenty-first century.

  In the meantime I decided to catch up on all the latest music videos on BET. After thirty-two minutes and nine seconds of watching young girls thrust their stuff in my face, the phone rang. I picked up the phone and waited to hear Saundra’s voice.

  “Hello?” Saundra answered.

  “Who the hell were you talking to? I’ve been trying to reach you for two hours!” I said.

  “I was on the phone with Yero, but never mind that, give me all the details.”

  “Well, his mom lives in a dump surrounded by crack dealers, crack whores, and crack heads.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “But she’s a real sweet woman and the food was really good.”

  “What did she look like?”

  “Medium height, thin, short gray hair and glasses. She is a cute older woman, but you can tell she was beautiful when she was young.”

  “Did she like you?” she asked eagerly.

  “Like me? She’s practically got a wedding dress ironed out! She wouldn’t stop asking when we’re getting married. I wanted to kick the hell out of her every time she said it.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I just grinned because I knew Randy was behind it all. His sister, now that’s a piece of work.”

  “Was she pretty?”

  I immediately burst out laughing and pardoned my sister for her sin.

  “I have to spell out what she looked like: S-L-O-T-H.”

  Saundra laughed out loud. “Damn, you’re so mean. I bet she was a little chubby and you just took it there.”

  “No. She was a sow and her hair had so much gel and grease in it, it had the consistency of papier-mâché.’ ”

  “Oh, no! She had a ghetto do?”

  “It was ghetto before the blonde dye and sparkles; now it’s alive.”

  “Please stop, you’re hurting me.” She laughed, sounding like she was in pain.

  “But that’s not it, she has a daughter named Alize.”

  “Alize? As in the liquor Alize?”

  “Yup.”

  “Did she have a reason for doing that to her child?”

  She said she’s always liked the finer things in life and she wanted her daughter to have a French name.”

  “I’m really sorry to hear that; it’s so ridiculous” Saundra said. “Is she a nice kid?”

  “I guess so. Every time I tried to talk to her, she was shoving a piece of ham in her mouth.”

  “Gross.”

  “But that’s not the exclusive. Randy’s sister told me that he had a fiancée who died three years ago in a car crash.”

  “Mmm. That’s deep,” Saundra remarked. “How long were they going together?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  “Aw, that’s so sad.”

  “Well it’s convenient for me because I’m going to tell Randy that Velma told me about her, and that I don’t want to compete with a ghost, so I have to break up with him.”

  “You’ve stooped low before but now you’ve reached a whole other level,” Saundra replied. “How could you use something like that against him? He’s probably still healing.”

  “Well then I’m not causing him any pain. If he’s still going through the motions about some other chick, he’ll quickly forget about me.”

  “That sucks, Asha, and I think you’re way out of hand this time,” Saundra said with obvious distaste.

  “Why are you getting all bent out of shape? You usually hate the guys I date.”

  “I dislike their arrogance but I don’t think Randy deserves what you’re going to do to him. He’s different.”

  “Whose side are you on, anyway?” I asked, getting defensive.

  “The victim’s, of course,” Saundra said snottily.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” I said, slamming the phone down.

  I should have known better than to tell Saundra my plan. She’s always trying to give me some fucking moral lesson every time I do something that she doesn’t agree with. Her job is to be my sister, not a therapist nor a counselor; if I need either, I have the goddamn yellow pages. Regardless of her opinion, the shit is going down tonight. By this time next week, Randy Thompson should be just another face in my photo album.

  I enjoyed my last date with Randy. We went to my favorite Japanese restaurant and after that, we ate chocolate fondue at a French café around the corner. It was truly a fun and delicious evening. Too bad it would end on a sour note. We took a cab to my house but stopped at the liquor store first for some gin. Randy was already a little buzzed from drinking all that sake at the Japanese restaurant, but I needed him drunker so the news wouldn’t hurt so much.

  Two hours and four drinks later, I knew it was time. I had to stop now and tell him before he passed out or was too incoherent to understand me. Miles Davis filled the candlelit room with his soothing rhythm and I sat down next to Randy on the couch as he smiled at me and tapped his glass to the beat.

  “Randy, I have something serious to discuss with you,” I said, turning my body completely in his direction.

  Usually those words would send alarm signals to someone but the gin made him completely oblivious.

  “What’s up, baby doll?” he asked, taking another gulp.

  “Yesterday Velma told me about your fiancée Tracy, and . . . and I feel like I’ve sort of taken her place or I’m competing with a ghost,” I said, fidgeting with my hands.

  His face had an eerie shadow over it at the mention of her name and he stared ahead as if I wasn’t there.

  “I don’t know how to tell you this but I . . . I can’t be with you anymore.” When I said it, his glass hit the floor sending its remains flying everywhere.

  “Asha, please don’t do this to me. I love you. I can’t believe you would feel as though I’m trying to make you someone else. Velma had no right telling you my business,” he said, grabbing for my hand. I jerked away and got up to get the broom.

  “I loved Tracy with all my heart and I’m not going to lie to you about that, but I found you and you haven’t replaced Tracy. You gave me another chance to love,” he said, his voice trembling.

  I felt that my lie was failing and that a bit of the truth needed to be added in. God, I’m glad I didn’t have too much to drink because I probably would’ve taken it all back.

  “Randy, that’s not my only problem. You’re getting way too serious. I never indicated at any time that I even wanted to be loved. All I wanted was to have a good time and have some company. Please understand that I’m not ready for all this.”

  “Asha, I’m sorry for any stress I’ve put you through but when I fell for you, I fell so hard. We can take it slow from now on but I’m begging you not to just write me off,” he said with tears streaming down his face.

  “I can’t, Randy. I think it’s best
if we move on,” I said, sweeping up the glass.

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this to us. I thought . . . I mean, I tried to do everything in my power to make you happy,” he said, holding his head in his hands.

  “Please, Randy, I don’t want you to beat yourself up over this. You’re a wonderful man and I’m sure there’s someone out there who’s ready for a commitment.”

  “Is there someone else?” he asked with his eyes squinted in pain.

  “No, I just made a decision,” I said, looking him in the eyes.

  He put his head down for a brief second and then looked back up at me. “So there’s absolutely nothing I can . . .”

  “No, Randy, please. I think you should go,” I said sternly, cutting him off.

  As he got up and walked towards the coatrack his head was hung low in sadness; and what usually was his outstanding posture bore a striking resemblance to the shape of a hunchback. I walked ahead of him and began unlocking the door.

  “Take care,” I said.

  He went out the door and stood there. Why this man was a glutton for punishment, I did not know. Slowly I began to close the door, looking at him in utter confusion.

  “I love you,” he mouthed silently, with the tears continuing to come down.

  I shut the door and went back to Miles and the rest of my gin.

  The next two weeks were absolute hell. Randy kept calling, leaving whining messages on my answering machine and filling up my voice mail at work every day. He sent flowers, candy, and gifts, begging me to come back to him, and it drove me up the wall. To make matters worse, he looked up Phil’s number and called Saundra, sobbing and pleading for her to talk to me. That was a big mistake, I was starting to feel sorry for the guy but calling my sister to complain when we weren’t even a committed couple just did not make sense and it made me furious. I had to deal with Saundra’s reprimands for days.

  Chapter 23

  SAUNDRA

  What goes around comes around, and one of these days Asha will get her comeuppance. I just hope that her face doesn’t need radical reconstructive surgery after it happens.