True Story

by Ni-Ni Simone

  “Grier, your daughter wants you. I done prayed the devil out of her. So she should have her mind right now.”

  “Hey, baby.”

  “Ma,” I said, exhausted. “Please don’t give him the phone anymore. Like seriously, there is something wrong with him.”

  “You know how Cousin Shake is.”

  “Yeah, crazy.”

  She laughed. “Now what’s going on with you? It must be something for you to be calling me, without me having to call you first. Is everything okay?”

  I hesitated. “Ma, now I just need you to listen. I don’t really want your opinion. But if you give it to me, don’t be too harsh. Okay?”

  “Depends on what it is.”

  “I just need to know if what I’m feeling is wrong.”

  “What happened?”

  “Tonight I went out with Zaire and my friends.”

  I paused, waiting for her to sigh or make a sarcastic comment at the mention of his name. But she didn’t.

  “I’m listening.”

  “Well, the date sucked.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, as always, he had to work. He’s always tired. So we had to cut the date short. We ate and we left.”

  “So why didn’t you stay and let him go home?”

  “Ma, how could I do that? Especially when it was supposed to have been a triple date. He did tell me he had to work.”

  “Well, you did the right thing then.”

  “But I’m tired of his working nonstop. It’s always interfering with what I have to do! Everything is always on his time. I’m tired of that.”

  “Did you tell him that?”

  “Kind of.”

  “What is kind of? How can you expect him to change if you’re not clear with him about what makes you unhappy?”

  “He doesn’t want to change.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I can’t believe you’re taking up for him.”

  “I’m not taking up for him. He still works me over. But, right is right. And you can’t hold people responsible for what you haven’t told them.”

  “So you’re saying I should try and talk to him again?”

  “Yes, and be clear with your feelings. See what compromises you can make. A relationship is a two-way street.”

  “But what if he can’t change or he won’t?”

  “Then you have to decide what you’re willing to accept.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Yeah. I do. But here’s something I want to ask you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Have you thought about being by yourself?”

  “Huh? Where’d that come from?”

  “You’re young, Seven. And ever since high school you have had boyfriend after boyfriend. When are you going to enjoy yourself? Be free, go to parties, and not have to worry about boyfriends and their schedules. Boys will be here forever.”

  She was trippin’. “Are you saying that because you don’t like Zaire?”

  “No. I’m saying this because I love you.”

  Clearly it was time for me to get off the phone. “Okay, Ma. It’s getting late, so I’ma let you go.”

  “You know I’m here if you need me. Love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  After I hung up the phone, I eased back into the bed, snuggled next to Zaire, and wondered how much longer we’d really be together.

  9

  You doin’ the most . . .

  A month later

  “Owww-weee, bey’be. I got somethin’ to add to y’all federation of information,” Khya announced as she and Shae crowded my vanity in search of hot-pink lipstick and eye shadow. “How about this lil freshman coo—”

  A what? “A coo? And what the heck is a coo?”

  Khya looked up and into my vanity’s mirror in disgusted amazement. She batted her eyes at my reflection. “Law . . . deee, I know you didn’t just do the uptownified on me, Seven. ’Cause I know, that you know, that a coo is a broken-down hood-rat bird. A broken-down hood-rat baby bird. That needs some manners. Just like that lil freshman I had to bring it to.”

  “Why?” Shae asked, handing Khya the lipstick she’d just found.

  “ ’Cause this slore stepped on the field yesterday and the first thing she did was challenge me. Tried to bust out a sumo flexin’ flag-twirl on me, almost causing me to lose my Muslim-Christianity on the field. Tryna do me. But when I was done poppin’ my hips and twirlin’ like I was servin’ the president, that heifer had no choice but to bow down and get herself in order.”

  “Whaaat?” I said, mustering up every ounce of drama that I could possibly put into one word.

  “Yes, girl. That coo was doing the most, honey. Now let me put this bug on you. Why did I overhear that coo tell a group of her freshman friends that she was gon’ step to Bling!”

  “Oh no, she didn’t,” I said.

  Khya snatched around toward me and slammed her left hand up on her hip. “Oh yes, she did. Guuurl, I was ’bout to run up and down that chile like a saint sneakin’ out the bar!”

  “Have mercy.” I fanned my face.

  “Step to Bling? My athlete? My number-one-college-quarterback-in-the-country-headed-straight-for-the-NFL, soon-to-be boo? The one that I stumbled upon two weeks ago at Country’s party and been loved up with ever since? Really? I don’t think so, lil girl.” She popped her freshly painted lips. “So, roomies, y’all know what I treated the heifer to, right?”

  “Voodoo?” Shae said with concern.

  “Boom!”

  “Oh no.” I shook my head. “Now you already know my blog is hot, and if I’ma have to write about a freshman who suddenly came up missin’, I might have to sell you out.”

  Khya chuckled. “You’d better not. And anyhow, I didn’t exactly do voodoo. I let her off with a warning.”

  “Only a warning?” Shae questioned. “That’s not like you.”

  Khya whispered, “I know it’s not. But between us, I have to perfect my gris-gris. Because the last time I tried the one designed to make somebody come up missin’, Courtney didn’t disappear. Instead, he ended up in our kitchen, trying to get his party on in a fire-flamin’ catsuit.”

  “A cat suit!” I shouted, curling my lips. “Throw up all in my mouth!”

  “Would you be quiet before he hears you?”

  “I already heard her. And don’t you worry about my catsuit.” Courtney strutted into my room looking like Prince on fire. The getup he had on was neon stop-all-traffic yellow, with shooting flames that dipped over the shoulders, ran down his bony chest, and exploded at the crotch. Disgusting.

  Does he have on heels?

  Yes. He. Does.

  A mess!

  Courtney flopped down on the edge of my bed, looked at me, and said, “I see you eye-stalkin’ me, Seven. But they don’t make this in plus size.”

  “Shut up!” I snapped. “ ’Cause you look like one big STD. Fire crotch!”

  “Oh no, you didn’t!” Courtney screamed.

  “Oh yes, I did!”

  “Excuse you two,” Khya interrupted. “That’s so rude. Like, y’all really about to argue right across my story? Like, word?”

  “Go ahead. Finish.” I placed my slippers in my bag.

  Khya twisted her lips. “I let the coo know that Bling didn’t do ETs with blond quick-weaves and if she held another meeting with a bunch of groupie freshmen, plottin’ on my soon-to-be, that I was gon’ mix up a gris-gris that was gon’ see to it that she ended up looking like a giraffe with a Rihanna wig and white lips.”

  “Eww.” Courtney clutched his chest. “How disrespectful!”

  “That’s not disrespectful,” Khya said. “That’s factual!”

  “And there you have it.” I snapped my fingers and slung my overnight bag on my shoulder. “Okay, I’m ’bout to roll.”

  “Oh, hold up,” Khya said. “Seven, before you go, we’ve been meaning to hollah at you about something.”

  �
��Yeah, we have,” Shae added, and I could tell by her voice that whatever they had to say was sure to piss me off.

  Courtney squealed, “Two snaps up and fruitloop. Hold. Up. Wait a minute. Let. Me. Go. Get. The popcorn. ’Cause ever since I overheard y’all saying the other day about how Seven is overdoing it with this housewife-underneath-Zaire-nonstop thing, I prayed that I would be here when Seven cussed y’all out! ’Cause if she wants to be with her man all day, every day, and get her ride-or-die on, then she can do that. Slowreeka and I always stayed together. We didn’t do a lot of partying. Hmph, some of the best times we had together were Friday nights when we curled each other’s hair.”

  Dead. Silence.

  For a moment, all I could see was Courtney and some beast sharing hot curlers. Then it hit me. “What? Y’all were talking about me?”

  I knew they were about to piss me off.

  “It wasn’t even like that,” Shae said. “You know me better than that!”

  Khya rolled her eyes at Courtney. “Exactly. We were not talking about you, like dogging you. We were concerned because you’re never here. You don’t hang with us anymore. And it’s been like a month and you haven’t hit a party since the first day back on campus. Like did the real Seven die and become some corny man’s wife? We used to be knockin’ the wall down together. And now I got to ride with Shae and her Country boyfriend—no offense, Shae. But seriously, can we get this back on track?”

  Shae smacked her lips. “With the exception of calling Country Country, everybody knows that my sweetie is hella classy. I agree with Khya. So why don’t you tell us what’s really good?”

  “What’s good is me doing me and attending to my man,” I snapped, mostly because I didn’t appreciate them in my business and because . . . well . . . I already explained to them that he only gets two days off a week and if I don’t see him then, I wouldn’t see him. And furthermore, I didn’t appreciate them questioning me.

  “So what, next to your man, we’re nothing now?” Shae snapped.

  “First of all, back up. Because you two are being real aggy right now. And I never said you all were nothing. But I don’t have to hit every party.”

  “You haven’t hit any parties,” Khya said. “In a month.”

  “Once is enough. Besides, I do have classes and I do have to study.”

  “Study?” they all said simultaneously, looking at me like I’d lost my mind.

  “Oh, I see,” Khya said, shaking her head. “You have turned into a crazy diva.”

  “Study?” Courtney stood up like he was offended. “Are you for real? That’s the comeback I’ve been waiting on for days? Studying? I just knew you were going to cuss ’em out and say something like I can be with my man all the time if I effen want too. Don’t y’all cow-getcha-moo-moo-on arses worry about it. Get off my tip, sweatin’ me and ish. I just knew they were ’bout to get the two snaps up and a fruitloop beat-down. But you hit ’em with I have to study. That’s like bringing a textbook to a gun fight!”

  I was so pissed and caught off guard, it’s a wonder the veins in my neck didn’t explode. “Look, I don’t have to explain myself to you two. And I would think you’d understand, especially since you have a man, Shae. And, Khya, you stay trying to get one!”

  “Ding! Ding! Ding!” Courtney hopped off the bed. “Two snaps up and flying fruitloop! ’Cause, Khya, you know you stay trying to get a man. She just shot the voodoojesus out of you with that one!”

  Khya snapped, “Don’t take it out on me, Seven. You’re the one who told me that your man was a bore.”

  Courtney grinned. “You just bust a bullet in her chest with that one. Who knew that Thug Charming was a snooze fest. But, I knew something was wrong with him when he wouldn’t run up in the homeless shelter.”

  My heart raced and my mouth practically fell open. I couldn’t believe that Khya said that.

  “Whatever!” I flicked my wrist.

  “It’s not that serious, Seven.” Shae sucked her teeth. “You can relax, or better yet, why don’t you just confess that you don’t like what you’re turning into either?”

  Suddenly I felt jumped. They were both coming at me hella crazy. “Check it, ’cause for real, for real, here’s what I’ma need y’all to do for me—”

  Courtney rubbed his hands together in excitement. “She about to tell y’all to kiss—”

  “I need y’all to step. Off.”

  Courtney whipped toward me like he had whiplash. “Step off? What kind of comeback was that? You’re not going to at least point your finger and tell them you don’t do hood-rat hoochies anymore? All up in yours with theirs!”

  I didn’t even acknowledge that. I simply stormed out of my bedroom and slammed the door behind me.

  10

  Until the sun rose . . .

  Just chill . . .

  Don’t be mad . . .

  Don’t even think about them...

  Have I changed?

  No.

  I wonder if I’ve changed . . .

  You got this...

  But I don’t know if I want it.

  Stop thinking like that...

  The city bus rolled toward my stop and just as Zaire’s shotgun duplex came into view, I thought about riding past it . . .

  And riding . . .

  And riding . . .

  And riding . . .

  Until the sun rose . . .

  Or until the last bus stop.

  Whichever came first.

  I was tired.

  Pissed.

  Frustrated.

  Embarrassed.

  Like I’d been called on some ish that I wasn’t ready to be called on yet. And I knew that me feeling stifled and stuffed up, and cooped up, was a problem. But I didn’t need my friends with their feet on my neck and their behinds in my business. I just needed some time to . . . to think.

  And time to decide what to do to get my and Zaire’s mojo back because if I didn’t, and I continued to feel less and less excited every time I saw him, then where would that leave us?

  Stop thinking about it...

  God, I felt effed up.

  You’re thinking too much...

  Stop sweatin’ it...

  I’m trying.

  And go with the flow . . .

  I can’t find the flow.

  I pressed the buzzer, got off at my stop, and a two-minute walk to Zaire’s front door took ten.

  I faced his bell, sucked in a breath. And chewed the inside of my cheek.

  Drop it.

  Dropped.

  I pressed the buzzer, and a few seconds later the door opened. Zaire stood there smiling. A smile that let me know spending time with him was the right decision. I gave him a light kiss on the lips and walked past him into his apartment.

  “Wassup?” he asked, closing the door behind me.

  “Nothing.” I faked a smile, and for some reason, my eyes wandered toward the clock. Eight p.m.

  Time for his nightly shower.

  God, I hated that I knew his routine.

  And I hated even more that he had a routine.

  Shae’s voice danced in my head. Just confess that you don’t like what you’re turning into either...

  What am I turning into?

  Would you stop?

  Stopped.

  I kicked my shoes off, took a seat on the couch, and spotted twenty dollars on the coffee table.

  I betchu he ordered pizza.

  “I just ordered us some pizza,” he said.

  Knew it.

  “Pepperoni and olives?” I asked, struggling to give him a genuine smile.

  “Yes, pepperoni and olives.”

  “Extra cheese?”

  “Extra, extra cheese.”

  “Pow!”

  Zaire laughed and I faked a laugh.

  He hesitated and looked at me suspiciously. “You good?”

  “Yeah.” I shrugged. “I’m fine.”

  He squinted. “Sure?”

  “Yeah.” I turned
my face from his and toward the TV.

  “A’ight, love. Well . . . I’m getting ready to go and take my shower.”

  Duh! Of course you are, because the only thing you ever do at eight o’clock is what? Take a freakin’ shower!

  Knock it off.

  “There’s twenty dollars on the table,” he said. “Pay for the pizza when they come.”

  And give the guy a three-dollar tip.

  “And give ole dude a three-dollar tip.”

  I’ll only be a minute.

  “I’ll only be a minute.”

  No... not really . . . you’ll be ten minutes and twenty-nine seconds. And how do I know this? Because you always shower for ten minutes and twenty-nine seconds!

  I watched Zaire walk into the bathroom and close the door behind him. I listened to the shower water beat against the tile and soon found myself drifting into deep thought.

  Wassup with you?

  Did the old Seven die?

  You don’t like what you’re turning into.

  “What’s the problem?” Zaire said, standing before me, dressed in gray sweatpants and a crisp white wifebeater. “You didn’t hear the buzzer?”

  “Huh?” He startled me.

  Bzzzzz . . . Bzzzz . . .

  “Oh,” I said, squinting. “That was fast.”

  Zaire walked over to the door, paid for the pizza, and set it on the coffee table. “Are you sure you’re good? Something you wanna talk about?”

  “No, and why do you keep asking me that?” I snapped, with a little more attitude than I intended.

  Zaire smirked. “Whoa, where’d that bullet come from?” He sat beside me on the couch and pulled me to his chest. “Wassup? We gon’ avoid the obvious all night, or are you gon’ tell me what’s on your mind?”

  I snuggled into Zaire’s chest and sighed. I closed my eyes and drew in a breath. Immediately his cologne started to soothe me. “It’s nothing.” I shrugged. “I mean . . . I got into this argument with Shae and Khya. They were all in my business.”

  “About what?”

  About you. I hesitated. “Something about I’ve only been to one party. And they feel neglected. I just didn’t appreciate the way they came at me. But . . . you know... Zaire, I would really like to go out a little more. And it doesn’t have to be a party. It could just be . . . you know... just to chill. What do you think?”