Fool, Stop Trippin'

by McKinney, Tina Brooks

  “Did I do something?”

  “How could you do something? We never see each other.”

  “Then why are you leaving?”

  “It’s time.”

  I am glad she didn’t ask me what it was time for because I honestly don’t know. I remember urgently wanting to talk to her about moving, but I can’t remember why because our situation is ideal. We are splitting the rent without the normal chaos that comes with two women trying to live under the same roof. So why did I want to leave? I am thinking so hard, I am getting a headache. So rather than dwelling in the past, I change the subject.

  “Whatcha been up to? I haven’t seen you in about a month; where the hell you been?”

  “Working, trying to take care of a little business. What’s going on in your world?” She is obviously still thinking about the drawing, but once again it’s lost its importance to me.

  “Believe it or not, things have been good for a change.”

  “That’s good to hear. We’ve been passing like ships in the night, I almost forgot you were staying here.”

  “Who you telling? If it wasn’t for the occasional cup in the sink, I’d swear that I am here by myself. You hiding a new man or something?”

  “Why does it always have to be about a man with you?”

  “Damn, cuz, I didn’t mean to strike a nerve, my bad.”

  “You didn’t strike a nerve. I’ve been back and forth to New Orleans trying to fix up my house.”

  “Why? You moving back?” The hair on my neck bristles as I brace myself for her answer. I mean, I care and all, but my hands grip my cup hard waiting for her reply.

  “To be honest, I don’t know. There is grant money available to rebuild, so I’m taking advantage of it. Especially since Spike Lee is rumored to be doing a documentary on the actual events that occurred, I gotta do it.”

  Relieved, I sit back in my chair.

  “Are we going to bullshit each other all night or are you ready to talk to me?”

  “I don’t know what else to tell you, but that paper is giving me the creeps.”

  “Ha, you did it.” She balls up the paper and throws it in the trash. Frankly, I wanted to burn it, but I feel better now that it is out of sight.

  “Listen, it’s late. I need to get to bed.”

  “All right. I’m going to do some research in the morning and see if anything funny shows up.”

  “Okay, see ya in the morning.”

  “Oh, how’s Kentee?”

  I stop dead in my tracks, wondering where that came from. I didn’t even think she remembered his name since we hadn’t discussed him in quite some time.

  “Oh, I guess he’s fine.”

  “Are you two still together?”

  “We’re still friends, if that’s what you mean, but we haven’t made any commitments for the future. Why?”

  “I was just curious. It’s been a minute since we talked so I am trying to catch up.”

  Muttering good night, I go to my room, but sleep eludes me. I spend the rest of the night tossing and turning with my thoughts flitting from one idea to the next. I cannot get the picture out of my mind, so it is a no-brainer that I would dream about it. But when I awaken, I can’t make heads or tails of the dreams. The other thing that confuses the hell out of me is my total lack of feeling toward Kentee. That by itself should send off alarm bells in my head, but I am too tired to think. I can’t wait to talk to Chauncey about this latest development. He has become my friend and confidant. I’m looking forward to his early release from jail in the coming weeks.

  Tarcia

  I sit in the waiting room of DeKalb County Jail for the longest thirty minutes of my life. It isn’t enough that I had to be subjected to a pat-down search by an overzealous jailor, I have to sit in the same room with the guy who tried to rape me several months ago. I am disappointed with the penal system for not firing the pervert in the first place, but I have to admit I enjoy seeing his disfigurement. He wears a patch on his left eye and from the way he holds the newspaper so close to his right eye, I could tell it is impaired as well. Serves that fucker right! For three months, he had me scared each time I came to visit the only person who cared about me. That shit is over now.

  The first time I came to visit Chauncey and realized who the guard was, I was scared shitless that he would recognize me. However, after several visits, I realize he can’t see warts on his own ass, so visiting Chauncey isn’t as traumatic as it was in the beginning. The worst part about it is the waiting. If you arrive between shifts, you might have to go to the desk several times before you are allowed to see your inmate. One time, I waited for over three hours only to be told lockdown was in effect and no visitors were allowed.

  Finally, I hear my name being called. My gaze shoots to the guard to see if he recognizes my name, but he doesn’t look away from the paper he is struggling to read. Chauncey is led in a few minutes later.

  “Hey, chile.”

  “’Bout time, I’ve been sitting here for thirty minutes.”

  “I feel ya, but just remember at the end of the day, you can walk out the door.”

  “Damn, you got a point. How’s it going?”

  “Slowly I’ve been released, but these motherfuckers are holding up my paperwork. I swear, if it wouldn’t land me a one-way ticket back to jail, I’d blow this bitch up when I get out.”

  “I know that’s right. Be patient. It’s almost over.”

  “You still going to let me shack with you when they let me go?”

  “Yeah, I told my cousin last night that I was going to start looking for my own place.”

  “Was she upset?”

  “Naw, she’s cool. She was just surprised because it ain’t like I’m in her way or nothing. We hardly ever see each other.”

  “Did you tell her about me?”

  “No, she ain’t ready for you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Don’t get your panties all twisted. Lasonji is just different, is all. If we weren’t related we probably wouldn’t even speak to each other.”

  “Oh, okay. I thought you were going to say she doesn’t like jailbirds or something like that.” I wave away his comments because I really want to tell him about the drawing.

  “Something real strange happened last night.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “My cousin said I went into a trancelike state and she said I was speaking to her, but I can’t remember anything I said. She showed me something that I was drawing, but I don’t remember doing it either.”

  “Show it to me.” He leans forward in his chair, pressing his face near the glass.

  “I don’t have it. She took it last night and when I got up this morning she was gone.”

  “Well, what was it?” He is still perched on the edge of his chair.

  “I don’t know. I stayed up half the night thinking about it and today, I can’t even tell you what it looked like.”

  “Then it must not have been important.” Chauncey sits back in his chair and begins to examine his nails.

  “She seems to think it is. She looked scared when she saw it.”

  “But you said yourself that she is weird so why you letting that bother you?” Suddenly, the drawing isn’t important anymore and I begin to feel foolish for even bringing it up in the first place. Aside from the burning desire to talk to Chauncey about the picture, I don’t have anything else left to say.

  “So how’s that fine Kentee?”

  “Oh, he’s fine.”

  “I know that, I saw his picture. Have you seen him again since that time you had coffee with him?”

  “Come to think of it, no. I talk to him over the phone, but we haven’t connected in person.”

  “What’s up with that?”

  “I don’t know. Tell you the truth, I haven’t even thought about him since the last time I was here. Maybe I’m finally over him.”

  “You think he’s kicking it with someone else?”


  “Beats the shit out of me.” I am feeling uncomfortable discussing Kentee with Chauncey. I know that he is cool, but today it just doesn’t feel right. Since I got out of jail, I had been sending three or four letters to Chauncey a week so he knows every little detail about my relationship with Kentee. I even shared his dick size, something I would not have bragged about to another girlfriend. But Chauncey is more like a big sister and a good luck charm all rolled into one man.

  Ever since I met him, my life has changed for the better. I have a good job with benefits, money in my pocket and I’m not living from check to check. In fact, it is Chauncey who told me about renter’s insurance. If he hadn’t reminded me about that policy I would have never thought to seek a claim for the items I lost in the fire. So the way I see it, I owe Chauncey big time and letting him stay with me when he gets released from jail is relatively small by comparison.

  “Damn, are you just going to sit there and stare or are you going to speak to me? You know I only get thirty minutes.”

  “My bad. I was daydreaming.”

  “No shit.”

  “So what else has been going on? You didn’t mess with that spell I gave you, did you?”

  “No, I put it in the closet just like you told me to.”

  “Good, ’cause if you had tried using it at your cousin’s house, he would have broken down the door trying to get at you.” I was about to tell him I wasn’t interested in that anymore, but the guard stopped all further conversation.

  “Hurry up and sign that lease. I’ll be out in a couple of days.” Chauncey yells this to me over his shoulder as he is being led from the room. Everyone including the guard looks at me and I quickly leave the room feeling as if I am standing naked the whole time. I don’t know what it is, but something about the whole jail scene always leaves me feeling downright dirty and I cannot wait to get home to take a shower. I rush out of the building with my eyes glued to the floor. I am moving so fast, you would think I am being chased, but that’s just how I feel.

  I sure hope he gets out of there soon ’cause I don’t think I will be making too many more trips to that bitch. I turn my phone on. I’d left it in the car rather than having to run it through the security in the jail. They don’t allow camera phones, as if I would be trying to take pictures up in there to send home to my family. What a joke. I guess they have their reasons, but I can’t figure out what they are.

  Putting the car into reverse, I check both ways before backing up, but am interrupted by my cell phone. I put the car back into park because DeKalb County has just implemented a new law that prohibits driving and talking on the phone. I almost feel like it is a test to see if they can get me back on lockdown.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Tarcia, it’s Kentee. What’s up?”

  “Not much.” Why is he calling me now? I haven’t heard from him in weeks and all of a sudden here he is. Did I speak him into existence?

  “Oh, well, I’ve been thinking ’bout you and I just wanted to check in on you.”

  “Oh, I’m fine.” There are a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.

  “So what are you up to? Sounds like you’re in the car.”

  “Yeah, I had a few errands to run. In fact, I’m apartment hunting.” Why the hell did I tell him that? Shit, all I want to do when I leave Chauncey is go home to take a bath.

  “Oh yeah, can I come?”

  “Sure.” Whoa, heifer, what the hell are you saying?

  “Where should I meet you?”

  “How about I meet you at Starbucks again? I’m not too far from there.”

  “Cool, I’m on my way.” Perplexed, I disconnect the call. It is as if my mouth has a mind of its own and isn’t consulting me for anything. Sure, I want to find an apartment, but there is no real urgency. Chauncey has been saying he is going to get out in a few days for the last few weeks. Plus, I haven’t decided where I want to live. I sounded like I had a plan over the phone, but if I have one, it is news to me. I start to call him right back, but he called from a private number. I have two choices: go to Starbucks as planned or stand him up. Putting the car back into gear, I proceed to Starbucks on auto pilot.

  Jasmine

  “Mom, I don’t need you to drive me to the airport. Hell, you’d get lost and I’d worry myself to death about you getting home alone. I have a cab coming and that will be just fine.”

  “Humph, what kind of way is that for you to travel? You’ve never caught a cab in your life.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Don’t you get smart with me, missy. I can still beat the behind. I don’t care how old you get.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom, I wasn’t trying to get smart. But it’s for the best that I catch a cab. I don’t want to leave my car at the airport for two weeks, and there is no one else available to drive me.”

  “Oh, so now I’m no one?” She is working herself up to a good mad and I know I have to say something to diffuse her anger soon or there really will be hell to pay the captain. Grabbing her hands in mine, I lead her to the couch to sit next to me.

  “Mom, the last two and a half months have been hell on me. I need to get away and regroup and decide just what it is I want to do with the rest of my life. You yourself said I need a break, so I’m taking it.”

  “But you’re going halfway around the world. You could have taken a break in Florida. They have beaches there.”

  “I know, but I need to do this. Can’t you understand?”

  With a defeated slump to her shoulders, Mom nods her head. Tears hang from the corners of her eyes and I wipe them away. Leaning forward, I kiss her first on the forehead, then on each cheek. She used to do this to me when I was a little girl and it always made me feel better.

  The impatient sound of a car horn prompts me to jump up and grab my bags. “I left the name of the hotel by the phone. I’ll call as soon as I get situated. Who knows, with any luck, I might bring home a Latino husband.”

  “You do and I’ll kill you.” Her voice is gruff, but she is smiling.

  “You know to call me if anything changes.”

  “Yes, baby, have fun and be careful.”

  “I will, Momma. Grand Caymans, here I come. Lawd knows, I hope you’re ready for me.” I laugh all the way to the cab, feeling as giddy as a teenager. The driver rushes around to open the door and lifts my suitcases into the trunk. I skim my mental checklist but can’t think of anything that I left behind. If I did leave something, it’s too late now. There is no way I am going to risk missing my flight and with the heightened security at the airport, there is no such thing as arriving too early.

  “Hartsfield-Jackson, please.” I lean my head back on the seat, willing every muscle in my body to relax. My plans for the next two weeks consist of food, drink, sun, and fun and not necessarily in that order. I saw pictures of the hotel I am staying at in a travel magazine during the many nights I spent in the hospital with Sammie. I prayed I would get to go with her, but that isn’t possible right now.

  Sammie is on a long road to recovery, but she will live; that is the important part. For that I am thankful. I was so sure that I was going to lose her and I thank God each day for sparing her life. Her prognosis is good. She will have to have physical therapy to walk and talk again, but from the preliminary reports she’s been blessed. Although I was reluctant to leave her now, Buddy convinced me I would be the next one up on that bed if I don’t take some time to myself. Ergo, I planned this little trip to the Caymans by myself. I am going to order up some tall dick or two with a side of latex as my first meal of the day when I get to my hotel. And since my hotel is right on the Seven Mile Beach, I am sure I can pick up some other sustenance along the way.

  My perspective changed when I almost lost my sister. I feel like I am being given a second chance to make some changes in my own life. For one thing, I am no longer tormented by the ticking of my biological clock. I thought I needed children to give my life purpose, but that is not necessarily true. My biggest probl
em is that when I love I give so much of myself away that I never have any left for myself. I did that in my marriage and when the marriage failed it almost destroyed me, and I was doing it with Sammie. Recognizing that I do not have to control everything that goes on in my life has lifted a tremendous weight off my shoulders, and I am determined to keep it off.

  Chauncey

  Spells of manipulation are difficult enough, but it becomes particularly dicey when you’re trying to control several people at the same time. My daily incantations keep the guards from releasing me from jail before I have complete control of my destiny on the outside. That is the easy part because I can immediately see the effects of my spell when the guards bring me my meals. Controlling Tarcia is also easy because she is a simple-minded bitch who doesn’t know her ass from a hole in the ground. Her cousin, however, presents more of a challenge because she is familiar with the tricks of the trade.

  Her influence is keeping me in this shit hole and I have just about lost my patience with the whole damn thing. Tarcia can’t recall how many visits she’s actually made to the jail, but she remembers the nightly phone calls she accepted in which she revealed in vivid detail just how well endowed Kentee is. I cannot wait to have that jimmy for myself. In fact, she shared so many details, it’s taking all of my powers as a master priestess to remain steadfast in my determination to stay in jail until the last pieces of the puzzle are in place. I’m not been concerned about Kentee’s preference for pussy because I’ve been controlling his destiny too with the blood that Tarcia gave me. I don’t use it to mess with his libido. I use it to control his fantasies. Instead of pussy-popping, he dreams of ass slapping, balls meeting balls, dick-flopping, and lip-locking. My dick is getting hard just thinking about how sweet it is going to be.

  I engineered the call Kentee made to Tarcia. It is very important that he remain connected to her for my plan to work. I have funneled most of my assets into her account and I need Kentee to make sure that Tarcia doesn’t do something stupid with that money. She is so naïve, it is hard to believe that she has made it this far without someone like me in her life. After I am freed, I will discard her like a used paper towel. Of course, she will have to disappear once we get settled into our new place. Perhaps she will return to New Orleans, back to the very roots she tried to deny, with no memory of her life in Atlanta. Giving Tarcia the katra was a big mistake, one that I hope will not come back and bite me in the ass. She was supposed to burn it along with the contents of the bag I gave her for Kentee.