She sighed and said, “Carl, as hot, tired, and funky as I am, I sincerely hope you’re not about to ask me back over to your place again. I told you—I’ve got to get up in the morning and drive to Water Valley. I promised my folks I’d be there for Memorial Day.”
“I know all of that” is what I told her. “I just wanted to talk for a minute.”
She squirmed for a second, then picked up the container of orange soda in the cup holder. After downing a couple of sips she sighed again, leaned back against the headrest, and said, “So what is it you want to talk about?”
“You and me and this whole weird ‘three times and you’re out’ scenario you’ve got us locked into.”
Her eyebrows jumped up on her forehead and she said, “Look, Carl, I told you from the git how it was with me. So don’t go acting like—”
“I know,” I said, cutting her off. “I know what you said, Faye. And all I’m asking is that you give some thought to easing off these artificial constraints and cut us both some slack. I like spending time with you. I do. And I can’t help but wonder what might happen if you gave this thing between us a real chance at being something more than just friendship and occasional sex. I’m not asking you to make a decision now. All I want is for you to think about it.”
She’d been staring out the window the whole time I’d been talking. When I finally shut up is when she turned and looked at me for what seemed like an eternity before she said, “Okay.”
My heart flew up against my chest and I was like, “Okay? Okay, what?”
She said, “Okay … I’ll think about it.”
HER
Yeah, I know what I said. “Three times and you’re out. That’s the policy. And there are no exceptions.” Well … under ordinary circumstances and with the average guy, there aren’t any exceptions.
I guess what makes this thing with Carl different is that he’s the first man to ever come forward and straight out ask me to think about bending the rules on his behalf. That fact, in and of itself, sets Carl apart from all the other knuckleheads I’ve invited to come over with their balls and play with me for a while. Outside of those who think they can trick a sister into serving up a little something extra, most brothers seem only too content to accept the rules as they are and don’t have any problems with vacating the premises after the last pitch has been thrown. In all fairness, I couldn’t do anything but grant Carl an “I’ll think about it.” I mean, if I’m going to tell the truth, the brother has more than proved himself capable of showing me a good time—in bed and out. And he does make me laugh, even when he’s not trying. He’s not all that hard on the eyes. And rather than be out here fronting and carrying on, Carl’s been excruciatingly candid with me about both his adulterous past and the fact that it’s probably going to be a while before he’s not struggling financially to keep his head above water.
But as much as I’d like to buy into all the honesty and candor Carl’s been projecting, in the back of my head lurks the nagging suspicion that the brother can’t be for real. He’s got to be keeping something on the down low, you know?!
I was weighing all of those things and more when I finally stumbled in that Sunday evening. My weekend romp with Carl had taken a lot out of me both physically and emotionally. But any plans I might have had about taking a load off and temporarily clearing my mind were immediately snatched away and cast aside by Nora, who met me at the door, cracking her gum and popping her jaws.
“’Bout time your fast behind came up for some air,” she said. “In another hour, I was gonna call and ask if you wanted me to bring you a clean change of drawers.”
I cut my eyes at her and kept right on stepping, hoping she’d at least let me make it to my bedroom, where I could kick back and relax for a spell.
But she spun me around and was like, “Oh, no, girlfriend. I want all the dirty little details, right here and right now.”
Too pooped to protest, I fell into the closest chair, kicked off my shoes, and said, “Fine. Where do you want to start, Nora? The sex?”
She pushed an ottoman beneath my legs before having a seat on it herself and saying, “Hey, that’s about as good a place as any in my book.”
I couldn’t help but smile when I got hit by the flashback of Carl working my body into a righteous frenzy with those durn strawberries. But rather than go ahead and give Nora the goods, I closed my eyes and told her, “It was … you know … all right.”
Nora cracked her gum and all but snarled before she said, “Honey, please. You and I both know it takes a whole lot more than some ‘all right’ to keep a sister’s ass voluntarily holed up with a Negro for damn near two days straight. I know you can come up with something better than that.”
So after I got through laughing at her crazy behind, I told her everything I just told you, plus a little bit extra. I mean, after all, Nora’s my girl and we go back like that. For the most part, she just nodded and smiled without much comment. It wasn’t until I told her about how Carl had asked me to consider shucking my standard modus operandi for a trial run at something more along the lines of a more traditional relationship that homegirl’s jaw nearly fell off its hinges and hit the floor.
“What?” I said.
“Look at you!” she said, screaming and jumping up at the same time. “You’re seriously thinking about this thing, aren’t you?”
“Why?” I said, suddenly feeling a case of cold feet coming on. “You don’t think I should? It is kind of soon—”
She said, “Girl, now you know I’ve been in Carl’s corner since day one. Besides, I always knew it was only a matter of time before you ran into the brother whose shit was so tight, you weren’t gonna be able to do anything but drop all that ‘three times and you’re out’ foolishness and deal with dude like a grown-ass woman deals with a grown-ass man. So heck, yeah, I think you ought to go on and give this boy the fair shake he’s asking you for. I was just wondering what you planned on doing about that fool Scoobie is all.”
I was like, “Scoobie?! What’s his trifling behind got to do with anything?”
Nora snorted and said, “You might want to check your answering machine, but my guess is that he’s called here at least six or seven times in the last twenty-four hours. He’s even swung by here and tried to entice me into giving up the info on your whereabouts.”
She tried to fill me in on Scoobie’s visit, but by then I was so good and tired, I really didn’t feel like hearing it. Having indulged Carl to the extent that I had, I already had too much on my mind as it was. After a long soak in a tub of hot suds, I took my broke-down butt straight to bed and would have durn well stayed there until dawn, had it not been for Nora.
It must have been around 9:30 when girlfriend came a-knocking at my door with a loud, “Yo, Faye! Your boy is out here and he says he’s not leaving until he talks to you.”
Girl, you know I got up ready to spit fire, don’t you? I could appreciate the man digging my company and all, but this was getting downright ridiculous. I’d thrown on my robe and was still busy adjusting the sash when I stumbled into the living room and said, “Listen, Carl, I told you I needed some time …”
On looking up, I quickly realized there wasn’t any need for me to finish the statement. Instead I sighed and said, “What the hell are you doing here?”
Scoobie smiled and said, “Carl? Is that his name? I saw the two of you at the concert the other night. No wonder the chump was acting so strange that time in the parking lot. I suppose he’s the reason you skipped church on Sunday?”
You know that made me mad. I said, “Look, man, I don’t have time for this. What exactly is it that you want?”
“A chance to make things right between us, Faye. How many times do I have to say it already?”
“You can stop now, as far as I’m concerned, because in case you haven’t noticed, sweetheart, I’m really not trying to hear it.” With that, I twirled on my heels and headed back from whence I’d come. It was a move that earned
me both a big grin and a quick thumbs-up from Nora, who’d been standing there the whole time with her head swinging from one side to the other, as if she were courtside somewhere, watching Venus and Serena battle it out, instead of me and the Scoob.
Of course, I don’t think either one of us was banking on dude up and following me. With Nora in hot pursuit, he came busting up in the room behind me and not only closed the door in homegirl’s face but had the nerve to lock it.
“Oh, no, he didn’t!” Nora said as she rattled the doorknob. “You all right in there, Faye? You want me to dial 911?”
“We need to talk,” Scoobie said, over Nora’s banging and shouting.
Shaking my head at the insanity of it all, I went over and unlocked the door. “It’s okay,” I told Nora. “Let me just go ahead and talk to this man so he can hurry up and be up out of here.”
She shot Scoobie the ol’ evil eye and said, “Yeah, okay, but first time I hear anything that sounds like a struggle, I’m calling the police.”
While Scoobie invited himself to a seat on my bed, I lit up a cigarette and started pacing.
He followed me with his eyes for a couple of seconds, then said, “Whatever possessed you to start that nasty little habit? In the event that no one’s ever told you, it’s incredibly unattractive.”
“Good,” I said, blowing a big cloud of smoke in his direction. “I’m glad you hate it. Now go ahead and state your case, if you would, so we can say good night already.”
He grabbed my hand as I walked by him and made me sit down on the bed next to him. “This boy, Carl,” he said. “I mean, what could you possibly see in him? He drives a ten-year-old Toyota Corolla, for goodness’ sake. And where’d he take you for dinner, huh? Taco Bell or Burger King?”
Scoobie knew he was wrong for that. I shouldn’t have dignified it with a response, but you know I did. I told him, “Look, Carl and I are friends and that’s all you need to know—period. End of discussion.”
“Fine,” Scoobie said. “So let’s talk about us.”
I stared at him, shocked that he could even look me in the eye and say that shit. Ever since our paths had crossed that night in the mall, I’d been waiting for Scoobie to come all the way correct with me. His apologies, his cash offerings, his nonstop testimonies to the many wondrous changes the Lord had made in his life were all fine and dandy. But there remained one white elephant of an issue between us that Scoobie in all of his newfound righteousness had yet to even acknowledge. The time had come for us to stop dancing around the bad boy and tackle it head-on.
I took one final drag on my cigarette before I got up and buried it in an ashtray. “Fine, you want to talk about us, Scoobie? Then let’s do that. Let’s talk about us—all of us—me, you … and our son.”
HIM
Even though I’m not the type to go out looking for trouble, for whatever reason, man, trouble never seems to have any problem finding me. There I was sitting in my own living room, minding my own business, when I heard this car pull up.
The only reason I ventured outside at all was because I assumed it was my ex. She’d called earlier, while I’d been out with Faye. She’d left a message asking if I’d mind her stopping over and making some warm-weather adjustments to the wardrobe the girls keep at my place. When I finally caught up with her to give her the okay, she told me she wouldn’t be able to make it by until late.
So on hearing a car drive up to the condo around 9:30, I stepped outside to make sure she got in all right. But instead of Bet, who do I spy, sliding out of his pretty vanilla-colored ride, but Faye’s old flame.
I’m standing there thinking to myself, Now, I know this joker is not out here delivering Fudgesicles and Mr. Goodbars this time of night, or is he?
I was on my way back into the house when dude called out to me, “What up, chief?”
Thinking he was only trying to be polite, I told him, “You got it, man.”
That’s when dude paused and then, with what was most definitely a smirk plastered across his smug, high yella mug, said, “That I do, my brother. That I do.”
Who does this joker think he is? Like it wasn’t bad enough that he was slipping by after dark to see my woman, but then he’s gonna turn around and try to sell a brother wolf tickets, to boot? Oh, hell, no!
I spent the next thirty minutes peeping out the window and wondering what ol’ boy was doing over there and just how long he planned to stay. By the time Bet rolled up, I had worked myself into a full-fledged steam.
She took one look at me and said, “What’s wrong? I warned you I’d be late. If you had something else to do, Carl, you should have said something.”
“It’s not you” is what I told her before hurriedly relieving her of the empty box and the stack of summer wear she’d pulled out of the car.
“How come the kids aren’t with you?” I asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from me and my problems as I led Bet to the room our daughters share on the nights and weekends they spend with me.
She launched into a whole big to-do about the twins and some pajama party, but you know how women are, man. Even though ol’ girl was running her mouth a mile a minute, it didn’t stop her from immediately noticing the clothing I’d bought Ben and foolishly left laying across one of the girls’ beds.
“You been out shopping today?” she asked, after a quick look at the outfits and their still-attached price tags.
“Yeah,” I told her. “My friend Faye suggested I keep a few extra things over here for Ben.”
Generally all it takes is the mere mention of my son’s name for Bet’s jaws to start getting tight, so I was surprised when she broke into a smile and said, “Sounds like things between you and your friend are starting to heat up. Squirrel told me you were taking her to the Jarreau concert.”
Leave it to my cousin Squirrel to be out spilling the beans behind my back. “Yeah, we went,” I said, not really sure if I was ready to let Bet in on my feelings for Faye.
Bet opened the girls’ closet and started pulling items out, but I could tell she was eager for me to fill her in. When I didn’t, she said, “So … when do I get to meet her?”
I was like, “Uh, I don’t know about that, Bet. This thing is still fairly new. I don’t want to rush anything or make Faye feel like I’m out to jump the gun on her.”
“Carl, I’m not out to cause you any trouble. I just think that if Faye is going to be spending time with our two girls it might not be such a bad idea if she and I had at least one face-to-face meeting. After all, I didn’t waste any time in introducing you to my friend Charles.”
Yeah, I met Bet’s new man, all right. And don’t think I’m not still having nightmares about it. As hypocritical as I know it sounds, just the thought of some joker other than myself being all up in the ex’s Kool-Aid makes me downright ill. It doesn’t help that this dude—Charles—is one of these six-four, Armani suit–wearing, proper-talking types who before you can even finish shaking his doggone hand is shoving all up in your face the fact that he’s rolling with a brand-new, fully loaded Hummer and an f-ing “esquire” behind his name.
I don’t doubt Bet’s motives when it comes to her desire to meet Faye. In the two years since we’ve been divorced, she’s told me on numerous occasions that she’d love to see me stop humping around and make a serious commitment to one woman. To continue to do otherwise, in her opinion, is to only put myself at risk for contracting something that’ll permanently take me out of commission and ultimately break our little girls’ hearts.
In yet another feeble attempt to redirect the course of our conversation, I said, “Hey, you want me to come over tomorrow and fire up the grill for you and the girls like I did last year on Memorial Day?”
Bet shook her head and said, “No, actually Charles is having us over to his place for dinner tomorrow. That’s why I was out so late this evening. I’ve been over there helping him season the meat and what have you.”
Yeah, I bet you were over there seasoning h
is meat and what have you is what I mumbled to myself. I’m saying, man, that’s what I call TMDI—too much damn information!
Rather than stick around and let the heifer continue to gag me, I politely excused myself and went back into the living room, where I resumed my pathetic peek-and-pout by the window.
HER
Yes, I do have a child, a son, who on his next birthday should be turning all of twelve. His entrance into my life was marked by his father’s all-too-sudden exit. Instead of dealing with me or our situation head-on, Scoobie took off on a cruise to the Caribbean with a handful of my credit cards and everything I had left in the bank, and in the company of some other woman.
Suffice to say, neither the child nor the circumstances surrounding his birth is something I’m generally open to discussing. Until now God, Nora, and my gynecologist are about the only ones I’ve ever fully trusted with any of the details. Although they shouldn’t have, the facts came as news to Scoobie as well.
“Our son?!” he said, jumping up from the bed as if it had teeth and had just bitten him solidly in the behind. “What do you mean our son? Didn’t you—I mean, damn, Faye, all these years I just assumed you went ahead and had an abortion.”
You know it took everything in me not to clue home-boy in on the word “assume” and its nasty little habit of making a right natural ass out of “u” and “me.” But rather than take that route, I just hit him full-fledged upside the head with the truth of the matter—“Well, you assumed wrong. He was born in Oklahoma, where I’ll have you know, I moved with Nora’s help in order to keep my folks from finding out.”
“Is that where he is now?”
“Don’t you get it, Scoobie? You left me a wreck in more ways than one. I wasn’t in any condition to take care of a child—financially, emotionally, or otherwise. I gave him up for adoption. Where he is now is anybody’s guess.”
After The Dance Page 13