Book Read Free

Sweet Bye-Bye

Page 18

by Denise Michelle Harris


  I faced in the direction of the boardwalk, but Keith took my hand and led me the other way to a little nearby bike shop. The “shop” looked more like a hut from Gilligan’s Island. Leaning against it were surfboards, bikes, roller skates, and baby strollers.

  Keith looked around at the ten-speeds and mountain bikes with special gears. Then he went over to two very old bikes tied together, one orange, one black. They had no fancy gears. They had big fat tires, maybe three or four inches wide, with thick whitewalls on the sides, and big fenders that covered the top of both the front and back tires. The handlebars looked like straws that had been bent up into a U. Keith picked up the orange one and motioned for me to come and sit on its heavily cushioned black triangle seat. I complied. It felt comfy, like a favorite old housecoat. Keith went into the shack to rent the bikes, while I practiced ringing the bell on the handlebars. Ting-ting, ting-ting, it rang. I kinda liked the thing. “Hurry up, Keith Rashaad, your putt cycle’s awaiting,” I said.

  He came out, got on the old black bike, and we started our journey. Keith’s bike had a horn made of a black rubber bulb. “Push it!” I said. “I want to hear how it sounds.” Honk-honk—it sounded like a duck on the water. I laughed. This could really be fun. He looked at me, smirking, and shook his head. I put my feet on the pedals and rolled down the walkway. I was a little wobbly at first, but then it all came back to me.

  We rode along the beach and past the people. We rode until we came upon a group of surfers, three guys and a girl. We rode as close to them as the sidewalk built on the sand would permit. I stood there, one foot on the ground, the other on a pedal, while we looked out at them. They would swim out with their boards, wait for the right wave, and then jump on the boards and let it take them in. Unfortunately for them, there wasn’t a whole bunch of breaking waves this day. Nevertheless, their group, and Keith and I, would get excited each time a wave broke, hoping that the water would swell up enough to bring them in stronger than the last.

  “Look, here comes one, Keith,” I would say. Or he would say to me, “Okay, this is a big one!” Only to have it never materialize into much.

  I rested on the seat of my bike and sneaked a glance over at Keith. He wasn’t sneaking, he was looking at me directly. I stood up and walked, straddling the bike, toward him. He sat on his bike and watched me come closer and closer. I was feeling bold, and silly, and when I got close enough, I looked at him dead square in his eyes, and I sucked my jaws in and made a fish face.

  Keith just shook his head and laughed. “Little Chantell. You are so funny!”

  “Why, thank you, sir, I try . . . Hey, Keith,” I said, “remember how we first started talking?”

  “Do I? You were really fast, and you walked over and kissed me in the church.”

  “No!” I cracked up. “No!”

  “Yes, you did! Then you tried to cover it up by calling me a name.”

  “I told you it was because of a bet,” I said, grinning from ear to ear. “Keith, I was six years old!”

  “Umm-hmm. That’s what you say.”

  “Stop!” I laughed. After I’d kissed him that day, I remembered feeling dazed and starry-eyed. It was his positive vibe, his energy. It was good even when he was a child, and he was delightful now.

  Keith Talbit stood next to me and rubbed my back through my red T-shirt. He ran the tips of his fingers gently back and forth over my shoulder blades. I closed my eyes and felt his touch. I inhaled the scent of beach water. There were seagulls chirping and flying nearby. I thought about his kiss in the car, and wondered what it meant. I closed my eyes and absorbed the peace. I wanted to lock this moment in my long-term memory forever. Because if there was one lesson I had learned in life, it was that all good things come to an end. After Keith’s project was over and he was long gone, I wanted to remember this moment forever.

  “It’s been so long since we just broke bread like this. Just me and you,” he said. I opened my eyes and looked at him for two seconds. I really loved being with him. I really loved that he was a goal setter. I really loved that he spent time at the local Boys and Girls Club talking with teenagers. I really loved that he loved God and put Him first in his life. I put my lips on his and kissed him just as a big wave hit the shore.

  “Thank you,” he said to me in a whisper almost.

  “Why are you thanking me?” I asked.

  He said, “Chawnee, I know it’s not your thing to show people your feelings. In fact, it’s not your thing to let your heart show at all.” He paused. “But your eyes, they tell on you.”

  I really loved Keith Talbit. I drew close to him and put a thousand gentle kisses on his lips.

  “Wheew! Look-it, Mommy! They’re kissinn’!” said a little voice that passed around where we stood blocking the sidewalk.

  “Yes, Alexis,” said the mother. “That’s because they are in love.”

  The little girl giggled and squealed some more as she walked hand in hand with her mom. Then she started singing: “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage!”

  “Oh, Lexy!” said the mother.

  Keith laughed, and I tried to smile too. I wanted to, but the truth was, she reminded me of what I was not supposed to be doing.

  Keith must have felt the tension in my body. “Are you okay?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  But I wasn’t. I’d made an oath to protect myself. “Can we ride some more?” I asked.

  “Sure,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  He led and I followed. We rode until we came upon another sidewalk. We followed it out of the beach area and through a neighborhood. We were famished when we came upon a little pink building that was a Thai restaurant.

  “Do you eat Thai food?” asked Keith Rashaad.

  “Yes, I love it.”

  “Good, me too. Let’s go eat.”

  We parked our bikes and went in to eat. Though small, the restaurant was elegantly designed.

  I tried to stick to my guns and block out my feelings, but it had been a whole hour, and I’d forgotten about my little oath again. We were laughing out loud, like kids in puberty.

  “Your Grandma Edna was a wise woman,” I said.

  “Yeah, my Grandma Ed was a straight shooter. She taught me so much.”

  “She taught me a lot too.” I thought about her. “Hey, remember when we were nine years old, and you said that we should steal the Lemonheads?”

  “Nope! And don’t try to blame that on me,” said Keith, laughing. “You said we should steal the Lemonheads!”

  “I don’t think so!” I said.

  “Yes.” Keith pointed at me. “You said that we should put them under our shirts, and they were rattling around like marbles. And we tried to walk out of the store like that!”

  I laughed. “I remember. I was so nervous, I let go of my shirt, and mine fell out! Dude, I think that was your idea.”

  “Yeah, whatever, I remember it all. Then the store owner called our parents, and I got a beating, and your daddy gave you a good talking to!”

  I was in tears laughing.

  “I will never forget what Grandma Edna said to me either,” Keith said, staring down at his napkin. “She said, ‘Boy, I love you dearly, but if you gone be stealin’ you need to know that Momma ain’t comin’ out to the jailhouse to visit you.’”

  We burst out laughing again.

  “Oh, I loved your grandmother. She was no joke.”

  We reminisced some more until our food came.

  “Keith, thank you so much; I haven’t had this much fun in I don’t know how long.”

  “You’re welcome, Chantell. I’d do just about anything for you.”

  I played with the fork on the table in front of me and waited for him to laugh it off, but he never did.

  “You know what? When I was little I used to always say that you were my girlfriend, and that when I got big, you’d be my wife. Then one day you just kissed me.”

  I spun the fork around and resp
read the napkin that was on my lap. I smiled and tucked my hair behind my ears. I hadn’t realized before how hot it was in there. Before he could go on any further, I said, “Umm, excuse me. I need to go to the ladies’ room.”

  In the bathroom, I paced. I wanted to say, “Keith, people I love always seem to leave me.” And he thought he knew a lot about me, but did he know that I never cried at my own mother’s funeral? What he saw was an infatuation, an illusion. I played with the little diamond studs in my ears. I wouldn’t let it get any further. We weren’t really dating anyway. Plus, he was leaving soon. I reapplied my lipstick.

  A middle-aged lady came into the bathroom. She had short brown hair, tawny slacks with a matching belt, and a peach angora sweater. She was maybe sixty years old, with a string of freshwater pearls around her neck and pearl earrings. She stood next to me, took out a toothbrush, and rinsed it off in the sink.

  “Handsome guy you got out there,” she said.

  “Thank you, but he’s just my friend,” I said.

  She applied toothpaste to her brush and said, “Hmm. Well, it looks like he has more than just friendship on his mind to me.”

  “How can you tell?” I asked.

  She laughed and set her toothbrush down. “Well, honey, for one, his eyes followed you all the way to the bathroom. He’s got that look that my Jim gave me for over forty years.” She blushed.

  I did the same.

  I went back to the table and sat down.

  “There you are,” said Keith. “I was wondering if you were coming back. I thought you made a mad dash out the window and skirted out on your bike.”

  “Nope, I’m still here.” I smiled.

  I sipped on the orange slushy Thai iced tea and ate my dinner. My soup and curry prawns were delicious.

  We enjoyed each other’s company throughout dinner, keeping the heavy talk to a minimum. Then we rode back to the grass hut, returned our rentals, and walked back to the car. Keith’s cell phone rang. He looked at it. I wondered if he was going to have to get back to the hospital quickly. But Keith never said we had to hurry home. In fact, he didn’t even answer the phone call. He simply closed the phone and put it back in his pocket without saying a word. I knew that it must have been a female acquaintance. I’d been treating Eric, who had been calling me constantly since he returned from the cruise, in much the same fashion. I knew that Keith was too good to be true. When we got back to Oakland, the sun was starting to set.

  40

  When It’s Over, It’s Over

  I walked into my house with a bagful of groceries and my cell phone at my ear. Tia was venting to me about her mother in-law, who’d sent Ron the secret recipe for her red velvet cake and told Ron to make sure that he “kept it in the family.” Tia was hot, so I tried not to giggle. My head was tilted to one side and my arms were full of groceries. Eric had called me a couple of times and left messages, but we hadn’t spoken yet. While walking over to the counter, I heard a knock at the door. It startled me, and a jar of salsa fell from the bag and almost hit my toe.

  “Ohhh my goodness!” I said.

  “What?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. I just almost dropped something on my foot. I’m going to have to call you back. I just got in the house and someone’s knocking at the door.”

  “Alright, bye.”

  I set the bag down, went to the front door, and opened it. Eric stormed in.

  “What’s your problem!”

  “Hi, Eric.”

  “Where’ve you been?” His left eye was twitching.

  “Nice to see you too.”

  “You can stop with the sarcasm. Where have you been?”

  “Learning, Eric. And growing,” I said, turning toward the groceries.

  “Chantell, you’re playing some kind of silly little girl game, and it’s not funny.”

  I said nothing. His attitude didn’t warrant a response.

  “At first I thought maybe you’d missed the boat by accident,” he said.

  I turned back around to face him.

  “But I’ve been calling you and calling you, and you haven’t returned one call.” He tried to sound tough, but he looked sad. “What’s going on?”

  I tried to explain. “I’m sorry. Look, Eric, I just think that we’re together for the wrong reasons. Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”

  He just stood there and looked at me.

  Okeydokey.

  “Okay, let’s think about this for a moment,” I said. “What were we doing anyway? Did we offer any emotional support for each other when we were together? No, because—”

  His voice lowered seductively. “Chantell, you don’t have to talk to me using the in-vogue psychoanalytic jargon from all them women’s magazines. Of course we supported each other emotionally. Come here, babe.”

  He slid his arms around me, pressed his stomach to mine. I pushed back from him.

  “See, Eric, this is what I mean. Let’s tell the truth. Either you’re not ready for a commitment, or I am not right for you, or something. Or I am not ready for a commitment. We’ve been caught up in a one- dimensional relationship. But now I’m really learning, and I think I am really, really growing.”

  “Me too,” he said with his smirk.

  I pushed his arms from around me. “Eric, listen, I can’t do this anymore. I know that there is more to me than this.”

  “Than what? You’re too good for me now?”

  “No, Eric. More to me than designer clothes and being together for appearance’s sake. I can’t be with anybody right now. I just want to work on me and my issues for a while.”

  Eric looked so frustrated. He stepped back, threw up his arms, and said, “I don’t know what the heck your problem is, but you’re sounding really silly right about now.”

  He was trying to make me think I was being ridiculous, but the more I talked the more I was sure that I was doing the right thing.

  “I’m trying to say that as a couple you and I look like we’ve got it all together. But a friend of mine’s grandmother used to say that you should never judge books by their covers. How we looked together, what people thought of us, how much status we had, that stuff doesn’t mean anything. There comes a time when you just have to say bye-bye to superficial stuff, and it’s okay.”

  Eric looked at me like I’d shaved my head bald and was walking around in the rain naked with Birkenstocks on. Then angry creases appeared in his forehead, and he said, “You know what? You’re trippin’. You ain’t nothin’ but a migraine-hoochie, but you will not drive me to Vicodin. So if you want to break up, fine.” He even laughed. “I ain’t worried about that. I got women fighting to be with me. Aright? I’m out.”

  And that was it. He turned and walked right back out my door. Determined to do better for me, I didn’t go after him.

  41

  Focusing on Me

  I lay there nestled comfortably in my own little safe haven. The covers warm up to my neck, I chatted on the phone with Tia. I was trying to do the right things; spending less money on clothes and saving a little more in the bank. At church I was learning that faith came by hearing the word, and so I kept my grandmother’s Bible sitting right next to my bed.

  “So you didn’t have to get on a cruise ship to find your buried treasure?”

  “You thought that was cute, huh?” I said, laughing at her corny little joke. “Yeah, I have a lot of my mom’s belongings. Girl, you have to see everything with your own eyes to believe it. And the paintings are just wonderful. Picasso had nothin’ on my momma.”

  “Chawnee, I can’t wait to see them,” she said.

  I sipped my orange, strawberry, and peach juice concoction and warmed my feet at the end of my bed with my mother’s quilt. It looked great in my room and was perfect on those cold stormy nights.

  “And you actually broke it off with Eric?”

  “Yep. That’s over.”

  “Al-righty.” My girl didn’t sound 100 percent sold. She’d soon see, thoug
h. I was certain that I wasn’t a part of his future.

  We talked about my dad, about her and Ron’s upcoming trip to Aruba, and the latest beauty school stories. Then she brought up Keith Rashaad, and I started getting fidgety.

  “Well, what’s up with him?” she asked.

  “Well, we went on a date a few days ago, but because of the hours he is keeping at the hospital, I haven’t spoken to him in a couple of days.”

  “A what? I know that you didn’t say ‘date’?” She giggled.

  “Yeah. Tia, we went to the beach, and we had the best time,” I whispered. “It was great. We rented bikes. He kept looking in my eyes when he spoke, and his breath was warm and sweet . . . Have you ever stood in front of someone, and when he spoke you just wanted to inhale him?”

  I could hear Tia tapping on the phone. “Hello? Is this my friend Chantell on the phone? Hello?” she said, laughing. “Listen to yourself! This is great.”

  I laughed. “I know. I am trippin’. It’s all very innocent, though. He’s going back to Massachusetts soon. But we’ll keep in contact.”

  “Well, I’m not one to gossip, but I think I could spot this relationship coming a mile away.” She giggled.

  “No, Tia, I’ve had enough of relationships. The only one that I am focusing on is between me and God, so don’t get your hopes up on us.”

  “You know, you really know how to rain on my parade.”

  I looked up above my bed at the painting of the big yellow sunflower in the Mason jar that my mother created. The smell of lavender drifted from my pillowcases and into my nose.

  “So are you going to church with me this Sunday?” I asked.

  “Nah, not this Sunday. I’ve got too much to do. I’m going to go with you soon, though.”

  Tia was raised Catholic, and believed in God and prayer, but she preferred to do hers at home. Before we hung up, I was able to tell her a little about my and Charlotte’s candid, serious conversation.

 

‹ Prev