All the Things I Meant to Tell You

by Tiffany L. Warren

  Samantha scoffed and then looked at me. “I guess it’s up to you then, Maid of Honor. Go get your sisters.”

  “They’re your sisters too.”

  “Not since college.”

  I stared at Samantha for a moment, to give her time to take that back. She came through for me when I needed her, so I would’ve never called the sisterhood into question. But maybe she helped me for another reason. And I didn’t miss the Maid of Honor shade either.

  She was right, though. I was the only one left who would stop the crazy from unfolding. I dragged myself across the room, hoping that the whole thing would dissipate without my intervention.

  “Listen, listen, listen, everybody,” Sabrina said as I walked up. “I just wanna do a toast to Ronald and his future wife.”

  “You are not toasting anything up in here,” Twila said.

  Abena had already removed Wendy’s hands from Kyle’s chest, and had positioned herself between the two of them. Wendy smirked and sipped her glass of wine. Seemed like Sabrina wasn’t the only one in her circle with a taste for chocolate.

  Sam slid over from his place in the DJ booth and stood next to me. “Glad you came over,” he whispered.

  I walked over to Sabrina who was so liquored up that she couldn’t stand still. She staggered left and right, with the biggest smile on her face. The friends she brought with her weren’t real friends. My sisters would never have allowed me to make a fool of myself like this.

  Sabrina gazed at me as I grabbed her free hand. “Is it time to toast?” she asked. “I have one.”

  “No, sweetie. We’re not doing toasts tonight. They might do them at the wedding, you can save it until then.”

  Sabrina pouted a little, but then smiled again. “In Jamaica. Girls, you coming with me? These guys are taken, but there are plenty single Jamaicans!”

  Neither of her friends responded. They both gave Sabrina a “bless her heart” expression.

  Since they weren’t going to help her, I gently pulled Sabrina’s arm and started walking. She stumbled behind me sloshing wine everywhere.

  “Where are we going?” she asked. “My friends are back there.”

  I wanted to tell her that from the looks of things she didn’t have any friends, but I didn’t want to be mean. I just wanted her and her entourage gone.

  “To the bathroom. You spilled a little wine on your dress. I’m gonna help you dab it out.”

  “Oh, okay, good. ’Cause that’s gonna stain.”

  “Mmm-hmmm . . .”

  I made eye contact with Kimberly who had a look of horror on her face. I gave her a little head shake. I had things under control and was doing my Maid of Honor duty or whatever Samantha had implied that I needed to do.

  In the bathroom, I gave Sabrina a wet paper towel. She set her glass of wine (what was left of it) on the sink and squinted in the mirror trying to find the stain on her dress. She would’ve been squinting all night, because there was no stain.

  “Girl, there is nothing on your dress,” I said.

  “Wait, what? Then why did you give me this damn paper towel?”

  “Wipe your face, ’cause you’re drunk.”

  Sabrina rolled her eyes, “I am fine. I’m not drunk.”

  “I hope one of your friends is driving, because you can’t. I’ll take your keys.”

  “Wendy is driving, but I said I’m fine.”

  She started toward the bathroom door, but I blocked her.

  “If you were fine, you wouldn’t be out there embarrassing yourself.”

  “I wasn’t embarrassing myself.”

  “By trying to give a toast at your ex-husband’s engagement party? How do you think my friend Kimberly will feel about that?”

  Sabrina shrugged. “She shouldn’t feel any way at all. I had Ronald first, and I just want them to know they have my blessing and good wishes.”

  “They don’t need your blessing.”

  Sabrina backed up a few steps until she bumped into the sink. Backed up like the power of my words pushed her.

  “They do. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

  That sounded like a threat. “Excuse me?”

  “Oh, I don’t mean it that way. It’s just that Ronald and I have children together. So, I’m always going to be there. It’s better if we all get along.”

  “Getting along is one thing. You blessing their union is another thing,” I said, insistent upon the fact that they didn’t, nor should they have been seeking her approval.

  “I get it,” Sabrina said. “You’re feeling protective of your friend. But trust me, if I wanted Ronald I would still have him. One of my biggest regrets is what I did to him when I cheated on him. I didn’t think he’d survive it, honestly.”

  “He survived and clearly thrived.”

  “Yes, for his children. He couldn’t leave his daughters or even his older son, Sean. Does Kimberly know about Sean?”

  I didn’t tell Sabrina how Kimberly knew about Sean. It wasn’t her business that the reason Kimberly and Ron reunited was because she was on a date with his son.

  “She knows everything that she needs to know about Ron and his life.”

  Sabrina took a new paper towel and wet it in the sink. She dabbed the corners of her eyes. Were those tears? I didn’t know what she was crying about, but she could take her tears get on home.

  “You should leave now,” I said. “Please don’t make me have you and your friends ejected from the party.”

  “I wouldn’t give you the pleasure of doing that. We’ll leave. I’ll save my toast for the wedding.”

  Sabrina wasn’t giving a toast at the wedding. If she was even in attendance, the bride tribe would take care of her. I would make sure of that.

  Chapter 13

  HAHNA

  I loved when Sam stayed over at my house. He made a point not to stay more than two nights in a row, but I wished that he would just move in. What was the point of maintaining more than one household when we wanted to be together most of the time?

  Sam unpacked his man bag one item at a time. It always had the same contents: t-shirt, socks, underwear, deodorant, toothbrush. He placed the clothes items in the drawer I thought of as his, and he walked his toiletries into the bathroom.

  He noticed my staring on the way out of the bathroom. I didn’t try to look away.

  “What’s up?” he asked. “What did I do?”

  “Nothing. I’m just watching you be you. Can I do that?”

  “You’re weird,” Sam chuckled. “But in a good way.”

  “You love my weird self, so I don’t care.”

  He sat next to me on the bed and kissed me. “I do love you. What are you thinking about? The party?”

  I was thinking about the party, but I was also trying to deal with what Twila had told me. I kept thinking about her revelation. I wondered when and where it happened. Who was the man who hurt her?

  But I couldn’t talk about that, not to Sam. That was sister business.

  “The party was crazy. Ron needs to do something about his ex-wife. She’s a whole problem.”

  Sam stretched out on the bed onto his stomach and propped his chin under his hands. I stretched out next to him. I wasn’t tired, though. I wanted to talk.

  “What is he supposed to do about her?” Sam asked. “I don’t know that he could’ve done anything about her. She seemed determined to be seen.”

  “Why was she even invited in the first place? I bet it was a Kimberly thing. Inviting her is something she would do.”

  “Nothing necessarily wrong with that.”

  “Except that the chick basically said she’s always going to be up in their mix because of her kids with Ron. She’s not going to terrorize my friend. That’s not happening.”

  “Yeah, Abena seemed pretty amped.”

  “Abena was about to beat the brakes off Sabrina’s friend, Wendy. Sabrina ought to be thanking me for saving her behind.”

  Sam laughed at this, but I wasn’t joking. Aben
a could’ve taken all of them, but the last thing we needed was a bridesmaid arrest.

  “What was the deal about the girl, Angela? Y’all got really awkward when she came to the table. Did someone have beef with her back in college?”

  I rolled my eyes not wanting to talk about Angela. She was not even worthy of conversation.

  “No one has beef with her. She’s just thirsty.”

  “Thirsty how? She seemed pretty friendly to me.”

  “I didn’t say she wasn’t friendly. She is. She just really wants to be a Gamma Phi Gamma.”

  “Why can’t she be in the sorority?” Sam asked. “What does she have to do?”

  What he was asking wasn’t a secret. Anyone could see the base requirements to be a Gamma Phi Gamma sister on our national website. The part that was missing was the thing that was hard to quantify or even qualify. That little extra bit of something. . . special . . . wasn’t something you could call out or see. It was just a thing you knew when you saw it, and Angela didn’t have it. On paper she had all the qualifications. College degrees, portfolio with lots of service, and a strong desire to join were all great. But at the graduate level, a potential pledgee had to have a sponsor. An already crossed sister in the alumni chapter needed to write a letter of recommendation. I am almost one hundred percent sure that Angela couldn’t find a Gamma Phi Gamma to sponsor her.

  “She has to be a good fit for the organization,” I said.

  I could tell by Sam’s frown that the answer wasn’t sufficient, but I didn’t know what he wanted to hear me say.

  “And how does one become a good fit? Is there a brochure or something that she could read?”

  “I mean she tried in undergrad. If she had been accepted, she would’ve been on our line.”

  Sam sat up in the bed. I didn’t move, although he looked like he was going into full debate mode. I didn’t want to debate about Gamma Phi Gamma. I just wanted Sam to take me to the mountaintop, so I could screech out beautiful high notes.

  “Is there something wrong with her?”

  “Oh, my goodness, Sam. We can’t let everybody in.”

  Sam gave a grimace that made me think the mountaintop was farther and farther away. I wish I could change the topic like changing a television channel, but Sam had dug his heels in and wouldn’t stop until he came away with an answer.

  “But I mean, if she meets the qualifications, then shouldn’t you let her in?”

  “Even if she meets everything on the check list, she still may not get in.”

  “Why not?”

  “A lot of reasons. We only have so many members on a line or in a chapter. If we’ve exceeded that then she can’t be on the line. She might need service hours that don’t have anything to do with her job. They have to be purely selfless.”

  “And if she has all that?”

  “She needs a recommendation from a current Gamma Phi Gamma.”

  Sam laughed. “Wow. So, would you recommend her?”

  “Probably not. I mean, we’re not friends. I don’t know anything about her. It should be someone close to her.”

  I could tell that Sam still didn’t understand. He wasn’t part of a black Greek letter organization, so he didn’t get the pride that we have in what we do, and our standards.

  “We have to have standards, or else it means nothing to be a Gamma Phi Gamma.”

  “What does it mean?”

  I felt like Sam was mocking me, but I wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of seeing me angry about this.

  “It means you’re part of a global sisterhood that serves God, our community, and our organization. It means that I’m a part of something greater than myself.”

  “An elite global sisterhood,” Sam said.

  “I don’t think elite is a bad word or an insult. Yes, Gamma Phi Gamma is elite, and I’m proud to be in the number.”

  Elite was what I’d strived my whole life to be. I chose Spelman because it was the college of choice for elite black girls. It didn’t matter that I was from Goldsboro, North Carolina. Well, it did to some people, and that was the whole point. Being accepted into Gamma Phi Gamma helped equalize my past and my upbringing. Before I had my own business, I led my networking spiel with, “I am a member of Gamma Phi Gamma.” It was a name that opened doors.

  “Why didn’t you pledge a fraternity at North Carolina A & T?”

  “Gang initiations weren’t my thing.”

  I rolled my eyes. “No one was doing any gang initiations. Please stop exaggerating.”

  “No, some of the fraternities beat their pledges. I didn’t investigate them all to see which one didn’t beat everyone. I decided then that it wasn’t for me.”

  There it was again. That self-righteous tone Sam took when it felt like he was judging me for something. He never came right out and said it, but it was something I felt in my spirit. There was a tone, and a look, and a silence. The silence that hung now in the room, because of me subduing my opinion in order to change whatever opinion Sam had formed.

  Sam leaned over and kissed me behind my ear. I shivered. It was my favorite spot to receive his kisses. I dabbed expensive perfume there to entice him to leave his love touches behind.

  “I mean, it seems like Ron and his fraternity brothers are cool, though,” Sam said. “And I know being in your sorority means a lot to you.”

  Maybe Sam did notice that his unspoken opinions bothered me. Was he softening it so I wouldn’t be mad or because he’d judged too harshly?

  My phone buzzed on the dresser. I didn’t want to move. I was on my way to the mountaintop. Neither one of us moved, so maybe Sam was thinking the same thing I was thinking. Whoever that was could wait.

  Sam turned my face toward his. I closed my eyes as he kissed me deeply. My entire body melted under his touch.

  The phone buzzed again. I ignored it again. Then I started to wonder who would be blowing up my phone this late. Twila was going out with Debbie, but it was nowhere near time for the club to close, and she had a key.

  “Sam, babe, let me just see who that is. I won’t even call them back if it isn’t important.”

  I rolled out of the bed and Sam grunted. I felt the same way, but I wouldn’t forgive myself if there was some emergency and I was unavailable.

  I picked up the phone and looked at the missed calls. My aunt Sherrie in Shady Falls. If it was my auntie, it was one of two things. Somebody was dead or somebody was in jail. With our ghetto family and her cirrhosis-of-the-liver-having husband, it could’ve been either one.

  “It’s my aunt. Let me see what she wants, ’cause she’s just gonna keep on calling back.”

  Sam gave a dismissive hand wave and closed his eyes. I’d have to get creative to wake him up if I wanted to finish what we started. I was up for the challenge.

  I took a few steps until I was out of the bedroom and then padded barefoot to the kitchen. I could get us a snack while I heard whatever amount of money Aunt Sherrie needed.

  “Hello,” Aunt Sherrie croaked into the phone.

  “Hi auntie. Sorry I missed your call.”

  “You got a gentleman caller?”

  I rolled my eyes. Aunt Sherrie was so nosy and wouldn’t stop until she got all the details. I wasn’t ready to share Sam with my family yet. Once Sam knew about my family, he couldn’t unknow. Knowing was going to be a problem.

  “I just didn’t get to the phone fast enough. What’s going on? It must be important for you to call me this late.”

  “Honey.”

  When Aunt Sherrie said ‘honey’ it was a whole statement of distress. Honey meant things were not the way they needed to be, and you were part of the help to get things back to Aunt Sherrie’s normal.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s your Uncle Joe. You need to get down here.”

  “What happened? Did he have a stroke? Heart attack? What happened?”

  “Well, he had both.”

  “Oh lord. Is he okay?”

  Aunt Sherrie
went quiet, so that could only mean one thing. I felt my voice catch in my throat. Not my Uncle Joe. He taught me how to ride a bike and how to make my own pickles just like he did down at the Shady Falls pickle plant. He was Aunt Sherrie’s husband, but he felt like my blood.

  “His old nasty ass up and died.”

  The fury in Aunt Sherrie’s voice made me wonder the circumstances of Uncle Joe’s death. I’d never, in all forty years of them being married, heard Aunt Sherrie call Uncle Joe nasty. Not even when he was running around on her with a woman he worked with at the pickle plant.

  “Aunt Sherrie, we don’t speak ill of the dead now. Rest in peace, Uncle Joe.”

  “Anyway, I need you to come down here and help me bury his nasty ass.”

  If this wasn’t my Uncle Joe we were talking about it might be funny that she just kept calling him nasty.

  “Of course, I’ll help, but I thought he had life insurance. Do you need me to come and help you sort through the papers?”

  “Don’t nothing need sorting. He stopped paying the premium on that policy, right about the time when he started seeing that heffa again.”

  “Oh, no, Uncle Joe. But, I’m sure he thought he’d have time to get it back, before . . . before something like this happened.”

  “I don’t know what he thought. I just know he died over there at the Starlight Motel. The pickle ho the one called the ambulance.”

  I whispered Lord have mercy under my breath.

  “Yeah,” Aunt Sherrie continued. “I think he was back to taking those blue pills.”

  “Viagra?”

  “Yep. I knew because that mess always dropped his blood pressure. He fell in the kitchen last week; said he wasn’t feelin’ too steady. It was that damn ding-a-ling pill.”

  The giggle came into my throat accidentally. I didn’t mean to think any of this was funny, ’cause it was tragic. Uncle Joe didn’t deserve to die. Even if he had a pickle ho.

  “Will you come and help? I wouldn’t need you to pay for the whole thing. I got a little bit stashed away for such a time as this.”

  “How much you got stashed?”

  “About three hundred.”

  So, she needed me to pay for the whole thing.