My Best Friend and My Man

by Cydney Rax

  “Wait,” I say in a quiet voice. “You two ladies need to turn it down a notch. Now.”

  “But—”

  “Both of you are acting like you are kindergarteners. If Demetria is tired, then she can lie down on my chaise, which is in the study. I can bring it out to the living room, we can quietly watch the movie, and she can rest. Is that an acceptable compromise?”

  “Hold the fuck up, why are you siding with her, Seaphes? Am I or am I not your number one?”

  When I look into Veron’s eyes, I can tell that this is something she’s passionate over. She looks strangely upset, and I can tell this is big. I have to make a smart decision here. So I wise up.

  I grab her by both hands. “You’re about to know what you are to me.”

  I gaze steadily at her for a minute, then go inside my room. Demetria is lying down on the floor next to my bed. Her clothes are still on and so are her shoes, but she’s already snoring.

  I kneel down and shake her arm. “Game over, Demetria. You gots to go.”

  “Hmmm, no, don’t wanna,” she mumbles.

  “C’mon now, get up. You can’t drive, but we’ve got to get you home.”

  “You gonna drive me home?” she asks, perking up.

  “No, I’m calling you a taxi. You need to pull yourself together. I’m trying to treat you with some dignity, because this isn’t like you. But c’mon, get up.”

  She reluctantly sits up, her scarf once again lying crooked on her forehead. Not perfectly pulled together. Not as stunning and beautiful as we’re accustomed to seeing her. And for the first time I perceive how really fragile Demetria Sparks is. She’s like a little girl trying to act like a woman. And that’s another category of females that I’ve forgotten about: the ones who play that tough role outwardly but inside are as delicate as a baby’s eardrum.

  “Help me!” she cries out.

  I lean near Demetria, who is struggling to properly wrap the scarf about her head and peering up at me with wide eyes. I place my hand on her shoulder, but before I can comfort her Veron comes in and quietly kneels next to me.

  “I can handle it from here,” she says quietly.

  “Vee!”

  “Don’t worry, baby girl. I got you.”

  “Take it off, please,” Demetria begs. “I’m getting a horrible migraine.” Veron touches Demetria’s face and then gently removes the scarf from around her head. Her curls are now free to fall around her face, which is puffy with red marks. She reaches her arms out to Veron like a child, requesting a comforting hug.

  “Oh, I wish I could tell you everything,” Demetria cries as Veron embraces her. “I wish I could tell you the sorrows of my heart.”

  “Don’t worry about it, girl. I know things’ll get better for you, and for me.”

  “Thanks, Vee,” Demetria sniffs. She finally sits up and then reaches out her hand for Veron to pull her up to her feet. Throwing us grateful looks, she heads down the hall. We both follow her and find her grabbing her purse.

  “I don’t belong here. I’m going on home. I’ll get a cab. Thanks for everything, y’all. I hope you can enjoy the rest of the evening.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay, Demetria?” I ask.

  “I’m going to be just fine.”

  —36—

  VERON

  After Demetria leaves, I admit, I feel a little awkward for the first few moments. But Seaphes never mentions what just happened. He simply turns off the TV and sits on the couch, quietly sipping his chocolate martini.

  And the fact that he respects my silence makes me respect him even more.

  “You hungry?” I ask. “Can I make you another plate?”

  “Nope, babe, I’m good. Thanks.”

  “Okay,” I say trying to fill the silence. “I guess I oughta be going myself. It’s getting late.”

  “No way.”

  “But,” I say yawning. “I gots to get up early.”

  “So do I. I get up to go running at five.”

  I roll my eyes. “Well, I’m not going to be doing all that, but there’re things I want to do at home,” I say. I head for the door.

  “Okay,” Seaphes says, waving me away. “But that means you won’t be getting the back massage I was thinking about giving you.”

  Fifteen minutes later we’re naked in Seaphes’s shower. I’m giggling while he tickles me. I’m covering up my breasts, and he keeps trying to make me laugh so my hands will fall to my sides and he can get a nice little feel.

  “Stop it, Seaphes. I’m trying to be mad at you. You promised me a back rub!”

  “Don’t,” he says, kissing me on the back of my neck, “be mad.” Kiss on my ear. “Maybe I’ll get to it.” Kiss on my hair. “Later.” I grunt when I feel Seaphes press his body against my back. He wraps his arms around my waist; the combination of water splashing me against my chest and feeling his erection pressing against my backside makes me even more wet.

  “You ready?” he moans, wiggling his butt around until his dick begins to press inside of me from behind.

  “Mmm hmmm,” I groan, closing my eyes, and reach behind to grab him and guide him in.

  He pumps lovingly inside me for a long time, and as I climax I think to myself how ironic it is that I have Demetria to thank that I finally got some loving.

  —37—

  DEMETRIA

  When I see Veron at work the next morning she’s walking with a spirited bounce. I stop her in the hallway.

  “Hey, Vee, got a moment?”

  “Yes, baby girl, how you doing?”

  “Let’s go in the ladies’ room lounge.”

  She follows me, and we sit on the houndstooth couch just like old times.

  “Thank you for being there when I needed you. I know I’m not easy to deal with…”

  “Please, Demetria, you don’t have to explain. We’re good. We’re very good,” she says, and winks.

  I stare at her. “You?”

  “Yep.”

  “Damn! Go girl,” I say, and we high-five. I’m glad for her, but I can’t help but wonder…would Seaphes have liked it better if I’d been there to join in on the fun?

  “Well, how was it?”

  She hesitates but says, “I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “What?” I screech. “Girl, come on. I always tell you when Thad and I do the do.” My face falls at mentioning his name, and I begin fiddling with my hands.

  “You haven’t heard from him, huh?”

  I shake my head. “It’s killing me, too. Part of me wants to call, but no way. Unless a woman maintains control, her relationship is doomed.”

  “Oh, Demetria, you can’t be serious.”

  “What you talking about? That’s in the book. I know you know that.”

  “Yeah, but I’m starting to wonder. You have to read that book critically. There’s some stuff in there that I don’t know if it works. I mean, sure, there are some helpful tips, too, things that have actually worked in my favor.”

  “Example?”

  “I agree with the part that says if we stay feminine, we’ll appeal to the part of a man that wants to protect us. I’ve noticed that Seaphes really responds when I let him be the man.”

  “Ah ha,” I say and give her a thoughtful glance. Maybe that’s part of my problem. I try to be so strong most of the time, which I thought was the right way to be. Except last night my weakness helped me learn that my friends do care about me. That even when I’m not on top of the world and I’m down in the dumps, they’re there for me. And that lesson is worth learning, even if it’s risky to expose my true self.

  “I hear ya,” I tell Vee. “Well, I hope to hell that book can help me get Thad to talk to me. But I just don’t know for sure.” I stand up and pace the length of the room.

  “Talk to Seaphes. He’ll advise you.”

  “Y-you sure, Vee?”

  “I’m positive. Seaphes has a good heart and he won’t steer you wrong. You have my blessing.”

  Shocked, I tell
her, “Thanks, girl. I’ll give it a try.” We hug one more time. And I’m learning you can never hug too much, never be loved too much.

  Later on, right after the lunch break, Seaphes walks into my office. “Hey, I heard you wanna see me.”

  “Yep, it’s about…Thad,” I say and squirm.

  “Who is this guy?”

  “It’s not important.”

  “Don’t give me that.”

  “Well, there are certain things that I’m not at liberty to discuss.”

  “You love him?”

  “I don’t have to answer that. I just need you to help me get him back. That’s your role. You tell me what I should do, because right now I can’t think clearly for myself.”

  Seaphes sighs. “Okay, Demetria. What you need to do is get in touch with him—only give it a few days. Don’t delay longer than that, because the more time passes between you after a falling out, the less chances you have of getting back together. He’ll assume you’ve moved on, and that will give him the justification to move on, too.”

  “That makes sense. But meanwhile, what can I do to keep myself from going crazy? I hate not knowing everything. I mean, he sent me this crappy text message that indicates he’s been spying on me.”

  “Oh, yeah? You didn’t tell me that part.”

  “It’s embarrassing. And maddening. I don’t know whether to be totally angry or flattered in some sick sort of way.”

  “Well then, I don’t know, Demetria. You may want to close the door on this relationship. That’s not healthy behavior.”

  “Oh great, just what I don’t want to hear.”

  “You’re a strong woman, Demetria. I’m sure you’ll figure out what to do.”

  Seaphes stands up and gestures at me. I stand up as well, arching my neck to look in his eyes. I am grateful for his attention, something that I desperately need right now. We hug, and he goes back to his office.

  For the rest of the work week I lay low. I want to reconnect with Thad, but every time I pick up the phone to dial his number, I hesitate and hang up before I can press the seventh digit. I know we’re playing the game right now. Who can hold out the longest? Who’s gonna cave in first and say the dreaded words “I’m sorry”? It’s times like these when I wonder if the game playing is worth it.

  Regardless, I’m pretty relieved when I get through the work week without crawling back to Thad on my knees. And by the time Sunday morning arrives, I am fueled by a burst of energy from preparing for the Walk America event.

  A group of us from work have decided to hang together. I’ve never participated in this event before, but Vee assures me that it’ll be something that I’ll never forget, this day spent helping babies born with birth defects. Plus, we’ll have loads of fun.

  We’re at Vee’s apartment. I decided to swing by her place by seven thirty this morning, so we can ride to the University of Houston together.

  “Demetria,” she says, “if you really know someone, you can sense when something is wrong. And I know you, girl.”

  “Ah, hmmm,” I say, then concentrate on tying my shoelaces. “Well, at least I still look good. No man is going to take away my self-esteem forever.”

  “Amen to that.”

  We grab our iPods, a water cooler, and a couple of towels, and are on our way.

  When we arrive at UH I am amazed at the hundreds of people already gathered for the event—in every direction, there’s a sea of walkers wearing colorful T-shirts. From toddlers to college students, to senior citizens, to dozens of uniformed policemen…it feels as if everyone and their mama are out here on this hot Sunday morning.

  Vee and I cart our belongings to the City of Houston tent. The loud sounds of southern rap songs blare from the stereos.

  “Hey,” Veron says, “I’m going to try and reach Seaphes.”

  “Alright, girl,” I say, smiling, and for a rare moment I don’t mind that she gets to talk to him without me being in on the conversation. I bought new gear just for this event, and to me new clothes represent a new attitude, a new me. So I’m not surprised when I break into another wide smile when I see Seaphes and Veron walk toward me. They’re looking at each other and sharing a laugh. Good for them, I think. Seaphes turns around and a petite young lady walks up huffing and puffing and pushing a huge stroller.

  I step up to her and hold out my hand. “Hey, you must be Greta, Seaphes’s sister?” I say, then stoop down until I tower over the stroller. “And this here must be cute little Tupac. Oh, he’s so fine. May I hold him?”

  “Okay,” Greta says, “but only for a minute. You don’t know how much trouble I had to go through just to get him tied up in this thing. He hates being confined,” she explained.

  “I don’t blame him,” I coo and wait for Greta to unstrap her son. “Hey, cutie. We’re going to be best buddies today. I’m Auntie Demetria.” He smiles at me.

  “Don’t hesitate to put him back if he gets too heavy to hold,” Greta says.

  “Aw, girl, don’t worry. I got this,” I assure her.

  We assemble in a growing crowd of walkers behind a rope. Soon we’re off. People are chatting away, taking swigs of bottled water, listening to iPods, and taking one step at time, as they will be doing for this approximately six-mile walk.

  “You feel okay?” Seaphes asks. He’s walking next to me with Veron on his other side and his sister tugging along behind. Tupac is still in my arms. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Ursula Phillips walking behind us, Percy Jones tiredly tagging behind her.

  “I feel great, Seaphes,” I say a little too loud. “The weather is beautiful. It’s great to see all these people out here. Shoot, I may catch someone today.”

  “That would be great,” Veron says, looking carefully around at everybody who’s walking nearby. No hot men. She shrugs.

  Eventually we step onto North MacGregor Drive, a street filled with aging mansions that reflect the rich history of Houston’s Third Ward. With its towering trees and horseshoe driveways, the boulevard is bordered by the wide stretch of Brays Bayou, which includes a curved hiking trail lined by an oasis of trees and shrubs.

  “Look, Tupac. Isn’t the water beautiful?” I say, pointing.

  He hops up and down in my arms, and it’s so cute I squeeze him against my chest in a loving hug.

  Suddenly I look up and see Thaddeus and Marilyn pass by us, only a few feet away. I stop in my tracks.

  “Dang, he’s getting a little bit heavy,” I murmur and look back at Greta.

  “Oh, girl, sorry about that. I’ll take him now.”

  I hand him over and click off the volume on my iPod. I run a few steps ahead, leaving my crew behind, until I am just inches away from Thad.

  I pull out my BlackBerry, hands sweating so much that I nearly drop the phone. I dial Thad’s number. He isn’t even talking to Marilyn as they walk. But I see him reach for his phone, glance at the number, and slide the phone back into his belt clip.

  Again I stop walking. Seaphes bumps into me seconds later.

  “Oh, sorry,” I say.

  When I don’t move, he turns to me. “You alright, Demetria?”

  I point ahead of us.

  “Who’re you pointing at? There are a million peeps out here.”

  “Him” is all I say. Seaphes looks ahead and gets it.

  I feel close to collapsing. But Seaphes pats me on the back and gives me pep talks, filling my soul with the strength I need to stay on course the next hour or so. His soothing voice and reassurance keeps me from feeling worse about Thaddeus, but it does little to combat the harsh stares I keep getting from both Veron and Ursula.

  —38—

  VERON

  Despite my better judgment, I agree to go to lunch with Ursula the day after Walk America.

  We decide that, if you’re in the mood for breakfast food, nothing beats eating at The Breakfast Klub, which is known for its waffles and chicken wings, and is probably among the most popular black-owned restaurants in town. We knew we were go
ing to have to take an early lunch; if you don’t get there by 11:30 a.m. the line can extend outside the door and spread down the sidewalk.

  We place our orders and find a table in the corner of the dimly lit restaurant.

  “Well, I’ll just be honest,” Ursula starts. “I can’t stand what’s-her-face.”

  I want to laugh but don’t. “Aw, be nice.”

  “How can you expect someone to be nice to a backstabbing bitch like Demetria? She totally dominated Seaphes for almost all of the event. I can’t believe that he was going to get her lunch and sodas after we got back to the tent.”

  “Girl, Seaphes is like that. He’s a good ole southern guy and hardly ever forgets his hospitality.”

  “I don’t care what his mama taught him about manners; she should’ve added advice about watching out for fake women like your girl. She acted like she was bleeding to death or something. Now, tell me, this man who dumped her, what’s he about?”

  “Oh, he’s someone who catered to her every need, but then I guess he decided to get ghost on her. It is shocking to see her go from one extreme to another.” I feel kinda like a snake telling Demetria’s business, but when I think about how selfish she can be, my feelings of compassion are largely quieted.

  “Well, there’s something about her that I just don’t trust. Besides,” she says, leaning in closer since the restaurant is getting much noisier. “How can you trust a woman who sleeps with your man?”

  “You just saying that, or you know it for a fact?”

  “All the signs are there, Veron. Watch how Seaphes and Demetria interact with each other. He is very in tune to her even though he pretends like he isn’t. He had the nerve to tell me they operate on a strictly professional level. He must think he’s talking to a fool.”

  “I don’t know. It’s hard to know from just that. She’s just flirty.”

  “Well, I’m convinced,” she says. “And girl, I’ve seen this enough to know what I’m talking about.”