“Thank you,” we said, almost simultaneously.
Folks liking to be around us was an important thing to me. It was good because I wasn’t required to explain a whole bunch of personal stuff. Nope. They liked me for what they saw. I’d learned the hard way that you should never let people know when you’re down. Because they’ll pretend to empathize and understand, and as soon as you turn your back, they’ll get on the phone and call all of their friends. They’ll tell everyone in town, “Guurl, that Chantell Meyers is not really all of that. She is perpetrating. I’m telling you that she is as phony as a fifteen-dollar bill. She tries to act like everything is good, but she told me that her boyfriend did this and that . . . ,” or they’d say, “I called her on her cell phone on Friday, and don’t you know, it was turned off!” No, thank you. Not going out like that.
I looked over at Eric, who picked up his string beans one at a time with his fork and chewed slowly. He was an ex-high school football star who’d grown accustomed to the limelight, and often reminisced about how life used to be. Nowadays he was a manager at Safeway, in the meat department. Now, I know you’re probably thinking that Eric and I weren’t evenly yoked. But my man was fine, he was straight, and he had a good-paying job. That is a good man. We were as evenly yoked as we needed to be. He’d been there for over ten years, and he was a union member, but I think he got a little bored with his job sometimes.
We enjoyed all of the events that my job afforded us. These Silicon Valley parties were mostly gracious, but they’d been known to get a little wild. It was funny to see a company president sprawled out on a couch or dancing a jig through the dining room. Last year, a dotcom flew us to Aspen, Colorado, for a weekend to celebrate. Lavish was the only way to describe it. Eric was in heaven, and so was I. Hot tubs, golfing, massages, expensive red wines—we did it all. Now we were planning a little vacation of our own. Next month, right about this time, we’d be in Cabo San Lucas.
“They’ve posted the schedule for next month already,” Eric said with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh, great. Did they schedule you off for our trip?”
“For the most part. They have me scheduled to work on the Friday that we are supposed to leave,” he said.
“Oh no. Did you tell them about it?”
“Nobody was around in the office so I left a note on the desk.” He said, “Don’t sweat it, though. I’ll get it all squared away on Monday.”
I nodded and took a sip of my iced tea.
We did a lot for each other, Eric and I. He craved attention and adventure, and I helped him get it. Having Eric on my arm helped me to tell the world the story that I felt I needed to tell—that I was complete, that I was happy in every way. We were good for each other.
Being together also helped us in other ways. It took us out of the singles hustle and bustle, which was great for me. It was wild out there, and a magazine article that I’d just finished reading agreed. It said the single-black-female to single-black-male ratio had been as high as sixteen to one in some places in the country. So I counted my blessings and was glad that we were committed to being together.
Eric stabbed a bite of salmon and put it in his mouth. He looked at the menu and said, “They have crème brulée on the menu for dessert. Are you having it?”
“Oh yes, I—”
I looked up, and Mina and the other woman from the bathroom had made their way over to our table and stopped.
What now! I rolled my eyes and let out a long sigh. I was going to say, “Look, I’m not sure what this is about, Mina, but if it’s about the guy, let me say, I do not and did not want your man.” But before I could get a word out, the black Australian woman thrust out her chest and said, “Mina, how do I look?”
Mina struggled to contain her laughter. She said, “Oh, quite perky, I think. But get a man’s opinion. They know best.”
Then her Australian friend turned to us, putting her knee in our booth. She bent over our table. Her boobs almost touched Eric’s garlic potatoes. She looked at him and asked in that Australian accent, “Say, how do you think I look?”
Eric didn’t say anything, he just smirked that little upside-down smile.
Enough was enough! In the nicest, kindest, voice that I could muster up, I said, “You look okay except for those hard hairy coconuts sticking out of your shirt, and now if you don’t mind, get them off my table!”
The women walked away giggling, but not before saying I was just a jealous b——. Eric was so full of himself that he didn’t even ask me what all of that was about. He just smirked and finished the last of his salmon. But it didn’t matter, I didn’t feel like talking.
The little incident had taken its toll on me a little more than I wanted to admit, as everything had lately. I smiled calmly, but my insides were in turmoil. To try and calm myself I took slow deep breaths and counted to ten.
“I don’t feel so good. I need to get some fresh air,” I told Eric.
“Okay, babe, I’ll be right here. Take your time.”
I smiled, got up from the table, and walked up the stairs, careful not to show any signs of anything being wrong.
Up on the top deck, all was dark. It was nice, with a little breeze every so often. There were a few people up there. A small group stood huddled together smoking cigarettes and talking. A few couples snuggled together, and some people sat and relaxed on big, comfortable-looking couches with their legs up on the tables. I pulled my sweater closed, went over to the rail, and looked out onto the water. Gentle waves rippled about and they seemed to help me to calm down some.
Downstairs, I had been so upset that my eyes burned, but now the coolness on my face helped me to come alive again. I took in the scenery and felt my body temperature returning to normal. I could hear the music of Boney James coming from below. I’d never told a soul, but in moments like this I thought about my mother. Would she have given me skills to better handle catty women like those two below? I just wondered how my life might have been different had she lived. To be perfectly honest, I couldn’t really even say that I missed her. I was only five when she died, so I didn’t remember too much. Her name was Zarina Meyers, and she was pretty. She was talented too, an artist and a grade school teacher. I remembered a level of comfort and ease when I thought of her. I remembered her smell. She smelled like White Linen perfume when she wasn’t baking with peaches and pears. She liked to dance, and she loved Marvin Gaye, and Frankie Beverly. That’s pretty much what I knew. That, and the fact that I sat there dry-eyed at her funeral staring at the lady next to me with a black-and-white dress on and an auburn wig. The lady was crying in a tissue while I sat there pretending nothing was the matter.
The huge ship ran so smoothly that I could hardly tell we were moving. The city of San Francisco lit up the night. Skyscrapers were all around, with unpatterned lights that reflected against the sky. It reminded me of Christmas. I could see another ship like the one we were on. Another dotcom celebration no doubt. Composed again, I headed back down the stairs to the dining room.
I tucked my hair behind my ears, smiled, and nodded hellos on my way back to the table. It was with utter disbelief that I saw Eric, the two ladies, and my drunken admirer all sitting at our table. They were laughing and woofing it up, like two couples that had arrived together at this party. The Australian black lady had one hand on Eric’s biceps and was cracking up. Eric was moving his hands like he was in the middle of telling some hysterically funny story.
“Eric, may I talk to you?” I said.
His new friend got up so that he could get out. The ship’s table moved and all of their glasses shook slightly. I was steaming. Ugly cow. I thought of tripping her, but I didn’t. She and Mina had the audacity to say that I was jealous of them, then helped themselves to my man and my table. I couldn’t believe them! This ship was full of people. Go harass somebody else! And as for Eric, where was his loyalty? I felt like taking their drinks and throwing them in their faces.
“What’s up?” Eric
said, like nothing was the matter.
I put my hands on my hips and said, “What in the world are you doing? That’s what’s up.”
“Hey, I didn’t call them over here. They just came and sat down. Anyways, we were just talking.”
“You’ve obviously lost yo mind.”
He pointed at me with both hands and said, “You need to calm down.”
“Eric, you are being disrespectful!”
“Okay, here you go with that ‘disrespectful’ crap. You know what? You’re going to drive me away with all your new rules!”
I could not believe him! “Eric, how dare you stand here and tell me that you’re not being disrespectful, and that I’m going to drive you away!” I almost started to cry. But those heifers were looking over at us, and I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. I looked around; we were starting to draw attention. “Come on, Eric. Let’s just go somewhere else.”
“Nah, Chantell.”
“Huh?” I must have heard him wrong.
“You’re the one always talking about that connected soul mate crap. We’re not connected,” he said. He touched his mustache and looked over at the table. Then he said to me, “I’ma holler at you later, alright?”
The room was spinning. I felt like I was going to pass out. I grabbed my purse and went back upstairs on the deck. It hurt so bad. I hurt so bad! I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes to hold back the tears. Then I stood out there alone.
When the cruise was finally over, I headed to my car. I saw Eric talking to Mina, and the woman with the new boob job. He looked at me and threw up the peace sign . . . Peace. That was something I didn’t know anything about.
5
Sit Up
The next day, to cheer myself up, I wore my favorite black work suit and a sheer pair of black pantyhose. I snagged them on my desk at work and got a run that worked its way in both directions from my waistline to my toes.
Relieved to be home at the end of the day, I walked in the door and put my keys on the coffee table. Mina had been in the field all day, so I had managed to see her very little. And that was a good thing because I was certain I would have gone into combat mode had she even snickered in my direction. All the tension in my life had me stressed and eating unnecessarily. Today I’d had a tostada lunch, then someone brought pizza into the office and I had two slices of that.
I touched my stomach and felt the little bulge that had attached itself to me in the last couple of weeks. I had a cruise to get ready for, with or without lying, cheating Eric. This was my vacation, and I was determined not to carry any more baggage than I needed.
I washed my face, then pulled my hair back into a ponytail and gathered it into a scrunchy. I removed my clothes and looked down at my pink toenail polish. Tomorrow I’d get a pedicure, a manicure, and maybe a facial too. I put on a pair of black cotton drawstring shorts and a little white T-shirt with a yellow smiley face on the front.
Sitting with my legs crossed on the floor next to my bed, I stretched my arms out behind me and extended them to the floor. I had not cheated on Eric ever, yet he dissed me at every opportunity. I knew he cared about me. Was sex that big a deal to him? Is that what this was about? I tilted my head back toward the ceiling. If we were married, we wouldn’t have any of these issues. Will Smith and Jada Pinkett-Smith always talked about how they were best friends and they communicated to keep it that way. Maybe Eric and I needed to communicate better.
I’d read somewhere that exercise released endorphins that made you feel better, and that meditation helped to clear the mind. So I closed my eyes and tried to clear my head. Eric was a jerk. Mina was trying to steal my accounts and give my boyfriend to her friend. “Hummmmmmmm,” I said aloud with my eyes closed. Sure, I probably looked silly, and sure, I had no training in meditation, but hey, I had a ton of stuff on my mind.
I opened one eye and peeked down at the new roll sticking out from my sides. Now my weight was going to end up being a problem too. “Ummmmmmm,” I said.
After a few moments, I opened my eyes and turned around toward the bed. I placed my feet where the embroidered bed skirt almost touched the floor. Putting my hands behind my head, I tilted backward slowly, letting my weight pull me down to the floor. My shoulders led and pushed me upward until I reached my knees. Down and up. Down, and up again.
It burned around my stomach area, but I kept going. Somehow, someway, I was going to do a hundred.
“Thirty-three, thirty-four . . .”
Wait until Eric saw my abs; he’d regret that he acted up. He’d practically beg me to walk by his side. I hit the fifty mark.
“Sixty-one, sixty-two . . . I can do this,” I said and kept going.
My phone rang, but I wasn’t moved. I closed my eyes and imagined ten pounds just melting away.
It rang again.
“Seventy-four,” I said. My toes started to burn too. The phone rang again. My body temperature must have risen five degrees higher than normal. My back was damp, so I took off my shirt and tossed it across the room. I saw that I should have changed into a sports bra before starting this little attempt at discipline. My new black satin bra was getting damp. I kept going.
“Eighty-two.”
I kept crunching. The answering machine on top of my chest of drawers clicked on. “Hi,” said my recorded voice. “You’ve got me, now do that thing you do, and I’ll get back to you. Bye.”
Beeeep, went the machine.
“Hello, umm yes, hi. My name is Keith. (Chuckle) I don’t—” Click (another call was coming through on my line) “—is the right number, but I’m looking for Chantell Meyers,” said the unfamiliar voice. “If this is the right number, please call me at 617-67—” Click “—55. I look forward to hearing from you. Bye-bye.”
“Eighty-eight . . . Eiighttty nine . . .” I didn’t know any Keith, except the guy who worked downstairs who wore shirts with loud Christmas colors all year round. I made a note to myself to get caller ID.
I was almost home free. “Niiiinetyyy-niiiiine, one hundereeed,” I exhaled.
I wrapped my arms around my knees and rested. “Whooo!” I’d done it. If I did this every day for the next couple of weeks, who knew, maybe I could have a Janet Jackson six-pack. I was going in the right direction, anyway. I was so proud of myself that I headed right to the kitchen to celebrate with Ben and Jerry.
6
Superwoman Needs a Spa Day
Tia was popping her fingers and moving to the song at the end of the Jason’s Lyric video we’d just watched.
Girls’ Days were becoming something of a rarity for us. Earlier that day, we’d gone shopping at BCBG at the Great Mall in Milpitas. Our personal shoppers had sent us each a certificate that said we’d get $100 off anything in the store if we spent $300. Please! We were all over it.
I tossed a kernel of popcorn her way. It flew over the edge of the coffee table and landed in her lap, where she sat on the floor with her legs stretched out.
“So your trip was good?” I said.
“Yeah, it was good, now stop throwing popcorn in the house,” she teased.
“Heifer, this is my house.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot.” She laughed while putting the kernel in a napkin. “Philly was good, but I am glad to be back home.” Then she turned and looked at me. “So, how’ve you been doing?”
I shared a lot of stuff with Tia, but there were some things that I wasn’t telling anybody. Because she knew that I was a private person, Tia also knew when she was treading on thin ice, but that didn’t stop her. She’d always try to encourage me or force me to explore roots of pain. She was very into the yin-yang and wholeness and stuff like that.
On my twenty-eighth birthday, I remembered being a little nervous about nearing the big three-oh. To help me be more accepting she’d told me all kinds of things—for example, that being thirty years old would feel great. “It’s like breathing deeply after holding your breath for a very long time,” she’d said.
I’d told
her that she was full of it, but I loved her anyway. We’d been best friends for over five years. We met when she came into the newspaper one day to file some papers for her cosmetology school, Elnora’s Beauty Training Center, which had been passed on to her by her mother. I was leaving when she came in. She asked me where the public notice office was, and her hair looked great. I showed her where it was (upstairs), and asked her where she got her hair done. She’d been my best friend ever since.
She stared at me, waiting for me to answer her question.
“I’m alright. I guess. I’ve been better.”
“Chantell, you’re like little black Barbie. You have your own house, car, college education, clothes, and credit,” she teased, “and you’ve got bruhman with all them muscles. That is all the stuff that you’ve said you wanted. What’s the matter?”
I laughed dryly. I hadn’t told her about the little breakup yet. “I don’t know. I think I am just in need of a break.”
“Well, you and Eric are still doing Mexico, right?”
“Yes, but that’s over a month away, and we’re not exactly the happy couple.”
“Uh-oh. What’s happened?” I had to love her, she knew me so well.
“Nothin’,” I said as I swayed my head and pretended to really be into the song. We sat on the couch in the living room, finishing up the last of a greasy bag of microwave popcorn.
“That long silver skirt that you bought is off the hook. Which shirt did you get to go with it?” I said.
Sweet Bye-Bye Page 4