Wow. I was surprised to hear that he and his wife had worked it out. I scooted a chair next to his file cabinet and started to organize his folders. As he was doing something on his computer, I couldn’t stop thinking about him and his wife. I wondered how they were able to work things out, as Reggie and I couldn’t. What made their marriage so different from ours? I was no dummy . . . I knew there had to be something, but I wanted specifics. I cleared my throat, then questioned Mr. Anderson.
“Mr. Anderson, do you mind if I ask you something personal? If you don’t wish to answer, you don’t have to.” All he did was look my way, so I continued. “What makes your marriage work? I mean, and no offense, but after your numerous affairs, and the fact that you have a child with another woman, why did your wife choose to stay with you?”
He swallowed hard, and the look on his face implied that my questions surprised him or he was insulted by what I’d said. He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. “There are many things that make my marriage work . . . Basically, so many good things that outweigh the bad. There is no doubt that I’ve had my share of women during my marriage, but I believe that my wife made her decision to stay because she knows that my issues with cheating don’t define me as a whole, and they are a small part of who I am. Now, many people don’t get this, but I do love my wife. I don’t do things to intentionally hurt her, but my flesh is very weak. I have so many good and positive things going on, but then there are my struggles with women. My wife was able to appreciate all the good things about me, and not give up on us based on that issue alone. I’m not saying cheating is no big deal, it is. But if I were an all-around no-good fool, then I would’ve suggested that she go on her merry way. I consider myself a decent man, Desa Rae. I’m not perfect . . . nowhere near perfect, and the woman I’ve been married to for thirty-four years knows this. There’s no way I intend to live my life without her, and I’m willing to get some help so I don’t lose out for good.”
That was his answer and I had to leave it there. Mrs. Anderson was the one who had committed herself to loving and living with him for the rest of her life. If it was good for her, I was in no position to dispute it. I did, however, regret judging him. I thought I’d had him all figured out, but there was so much more about my boss. He had a genuine side to him that I completely overlooked. I began to think about my marriage to Reggie and my relationship with Roc. And even though Reggie had some good qualities, he was still a no-good fool who left me with a bad taste in my mouth about men period. Roc, like Latrel, was young and still learning. I didn’t know what kind of man he would ultimately become, but if he was engaged, I suspected that I wouldn’t be the woman to see his destiny. That was unfortunate, too, because no matter what, I still loved Roc.
Right before Latrel’s graduation, so many things came to the light. My past conversations with Latrel, Reggie, Roc, and Mr. Anderson caused me to stand before the mirror and take a good look at myself. I saw a beautiful, full-figured woman with flaws that were affecting me in so many ways. I was never one to accept the negative things that were said about me, and most of the time, I pushed those comments to the back of my mind. I had a serious problem listening, and compromising with anyone was always out of the question. The reason that Monica and I remained good friends was because I liked the fact that she agreed with me 95 percent of the time. As my friend, she didn’t want to be real with me, because she loved me so much that she wanted to protect my feelings. I got that, but I also knew that it was vital for me to hear others out as well. While I in no way held myself totally responsible for my failed marriage or relationships, I did start to hold myself accountable for a lot of things that had happened. In doing so, I was able to release that hint of bitterness that I held inside of me. I was able to see Reggie in a different light, and I realized that he’d made many of his choices because he felt as if he was doing what was best for him. At this point, I had to do what was best for me too.
That started with my relationship with Latrel. I had to limit my involvement in his life, as well as in his marriage. For so long, I had been a “hands-on” mother and it was so hard for me to let go. By not doing so, the only thing I was doing was hurting him more, and not allowing him to be the man I truly wanted him to be. Whether his marriage worked or not, it wasn’t up to me. It was up to him and Angelique, and of course, their relationship with God.
I felt so good about reforming myself. My attitude was better and I was starting to enjoy life even more. And even though Roc hadn’t found the words to tell me that he was getting married, I, too, never shared with him that I knew. I truly believed that when a man wanted you to know something, he would tell you. However, that wasn’t always easy for them to do. And when they couldn’t do it, it always took a woman like me who was willing to call them on their shit. There was definitely a time and place for everything, but that time wasn’t going to come until after Latrel had his diploma in his hand. For now, he was my priority.
The graduation was long, especially with Chassidy moving around and unable to keep still. There were minimal tickets available to the students, so even though Latrel had invited Roc, he was unable to come. I had also invited him to Latrel and Angelique’s graduation party, but since Roc and Reggie didn’t get along, Roc declined. I was kind of glad that he did, because the last thing I wanted was for anyone to ruin my son and his wife’s special day. They were so happy. The plan was to move to Texas, not Florida, and get to work. Latrel had already been offered a job in engineering and his career in basketball didn’t seem to be going much further. Angelique was planning to go back to school to get her master’s degree, but she had interviews set up for a few positions in journalism. I sure regretted that they were moving so far away, but like I said, it was beyond the time for my son to move on and live his life how he wished to do it.
After the graduation was over, we headed to Boshee’s, where the dinner and dance took place. The room was real elegant and the food on the buffet looked delightful. Angelique and Latrel had invited plenty of their friends, along with lots of family. We had a blast and I was cheesing so hard when Latrel called me over to take a picture with him and Angelique. I stood in the middle as they proudly held their diplomas up high, cheesing right along with me.
“Let me hurry up and get this picture,” Reggie said, snapping the photo with his camera. “We all know that Desa Rae won’t be cheesing that hard for long.”
Everybody laughed, but you see, Reggie didn’t have to go there. I promised myself that I’d be good, and when he asked me to dance, I didn’t hesitate. The DJ had some hip hop mess playing, but I did my best to work with it. On the crowded dance floor, I moved side to side, while Reggie held back his suit jacket, trying to break it down to the floor. Latrel, his friends, and Angelique were cracking up at us. I ignored them because they had no clue what real dancing was all about.
“I see you still can’t dance,” Reggie said, snapping his fingers while looking at me.
“And too bad you still don’t know how to fuck.”
I rolled my eyes and walked away. Good thing Reggie was laughing, because so was I. Monica was cracking up. “Oooo, the two of you are vicious. Just nasty to each other, but I think that’s because neither of you want to admit that y’all still care.”
Of course we cared for each other, but Reggie was not the man I wanted. Roc was. Latrel and his frat brothers were so outdone with the way we danced, they got on the floor and started stepping. Everybody crowded around to watch, but I sat back in my chair thinking about how glad I was this day was behind me. Monday couldn’t get here soon enough and it was time to do me.
On Monday, I dropped Chassidy off at preschool around noon and went to Roc’s house. When I got there, his SUVs weren’t in the driveway. I knocked on the door and no one came. The only other place that I suspected him to be was at his auto body shop. Lord knows I didn’t want to go there. I debated with myself if I should just wait to talk to him. I wanted to get so much off my chest, so I he
aded to his shop off Newstead. I took Highway 70 to the Kingshighway/ Union Boulevard exit, and as soon as I got off, I double-checked my doors to make sure they were locked. I know it was considered a booshie move, but I just wanted to make sure I was safe.
At the corner of Kingshighway and Natural Bridge, a man was selling candy. He lowered his head to my window, knocking on it as I looked straight ahead and waited for the light to change. It did, but I was stopped again near a PX Liquor Store. Several men were hanging outside of the liquor store with brown paper bags in their hands. I wasn’t trying to go there, but drinking on a parking lot couldn’t be considered work. Looking at it from another point of view, maybe they did have jobs. What did I know? As I continued to look at them, I saw a dull gold Regal pull beside me. The music inside the car was so loud that it vibrated my car. The youngster behind the wheel had thick braids that ran past his shoulders. He glanced over at me, sucking his teeth, and then he winked. I quickly turned my head, trying to ignore him and doing my best not to show fear. I knew that the way I felt inside was stereotypical, but I couldn’t deny that St. Louis was considered a high-crime area. True to the fact or not, I wasn’t running through the city like I was Superwoman, and anyone expecting me to was out of their minds. I couldn’t wait for the light to change, but when it did, my GPS tracking system kept sending me in the wrong direction. I couldn’t find Roc’s shop for nothing, but I knew I was close. Unfortunately for me, I had to pull over and ask an older gentleman for directions.
“Are you from out of town?” he asked. “Everybody around here knows where that place is. If you go about two . . . maybe three blocks down, make a left. Keep straight, then at the first street make a right. You should see Roc’s place on yo’ left.”
I thanked the old man for giving me directions. I did as he’d told me, and as soon as I made a right, there was Roc’s Auto Body Shop on my left. I could see the red brick building from afar, as well as the sign with his name on it. There were numerous black men, young and old, standing outside. Some were talking, some looking to be working. Cars were parked everywhere, and car parts were on the side of the building and in front of it. It looked more like a nightclub than it did an auto body shop. And I wasn’t going to lie . . . I was very nervous and tense. I prayed that Roc would be inside.
As I made my way toward the door, I regretted that I put forth so much effort to look nice. I wore an off-the-shoulder royal grape top with gray wide-legged pants. My hair was full with tight-hanging curls and my peep-toe heels made me look taller than what I was. One man who was power-washing tires stopped to open the door for me. The other men’s eyes stayed glued to me, as if I had dirt on my face.
“Damn, shorty,” one of the men said. “How can a nigga like me help you?”
I clipped my lip tight, wanting so badly to respond, but didn’t want to find myself in trouble. Instead, I smiled at the man and kept it moving. I found more men inside, and a few women were standing around, too. All eyes shifted to me, and a hefty man behind the counter with rotten teeth asked if he could help me.
I lightly scratched across my forehead, trying not to make it obvious that I was wiping my sweat. “Is, uh, Roc here?”
“Yep,” the man said, coming from behind the counter. “Follow me.”
I followed the man as he walked me through a hallway stacked high with chrome rims and tires. He was stopped by another man who asked where another person was. “That nigga somewhere outside. I saw him about an hour ago with Romo and Gage. Check outside.”
The other man nodded, then moved aside to check me out as I passed by him. “Umph, umph, umph. What a pleasure, what a pleasure. Today may be my lucky day.”
Not quite. I forced out another smile and kept moving to the back. We walked through another area where several customers were sitting. Small flat-screen TVs were on the walls, and comfortable blue chairs circled the room. There were two offices to the right, but the man walked me back to a huge shop area that was lined with numerous cars being painted and some being worked on. The man held the door open for me. He looked around at several men working, and plenty of them standing around talking and laughing.
“Roc-kay,” the man shouted. “You in here?”
“Yeah!” I heard Roc say. “I’m over here!”
The man and I followed Roc’s voice, which was near an old-school Cadillac that was being painted a shiny black. Roc was underneath the car doing something, and the only thing I could see was his blue work pants that were covered with paint as well as grease stains. His black boots were busted up and his shoestrings were untied.
“I’m not tryin’ to interrupt you, but somebody is here to see you,” the man said.
“I’m real busy right now, Craig, so handle that shit for me. Tell whoever it is I’m not here.”
Craig was getting ready to say something, but I placed my finger on my lip, asking him to shush. I kneeled on the ground, poking my head underneath the car. Roc’s head was turned in the other direction.
I cleared my throat. “I know you’re busy, but I came all this way . . .”
His head snapped to the side and his eyes bugged as he looked at me as if he’d seen a ghost. He quickly rolled from underneath the car on a creeper with wheels on it and stood up. I swear I had never seen Roc look so sexy. The white V-neck T-shirt he wore had grease stains on it and revealed the numerous tattoos that covered his arms. The tee stretched across his muscles and he used it to wipe the sheen of sweat from his forehead. A smudge of oil was on his left cheek and his hands were blackened with oil. He looked embarrassed, but little did he know what I was thinking. An orange rag was in his back pocket, so he used it to wipe his oily hands.
“Damn, Dez. I didn’t know you were comin’ down here. You know I don’t like for you to see me like this.”
“Why not?” I said, looking him over. If I could have pulled my clothes off and screwed him right then and there, I would have. “You . . . you look nice.”
“I’m not sure about all that,” Roc said, continuing to wipe his hands on the rag. The rag wasn’t doing a good job, so he walked over to a huge stainless steel deep sink to wash his hands. I followed him. “So, what brings you down here in the neck of my hoods?” he asked.
“I wanted to talk to you about something important. Didn’t want to wait until you stopped by the house, because Chassidy would be around.”
Roc nodded, then pulled down a few paper towels to dry his hands. He told me to follow him and we went back to the offices I’d seen by the second waiting area. He reached for a set of jiggling keys that were in his pocket and unlocked the door. “Who the fuck turned off the air in here?” he said, walking into the junky office you could see through the glass windows. Papers were piled high on his desk and so were many auto books. A calculator was on there, too, and so was a phone. There was also a picture of Lil Roc and Chassidy hanging crookedly on the wall, and a picture of him and Raven. He saw my eyes on the picture, but he yelled out to one of the men in the waiting area standing at a soda machine.
“Keith!” he yelled again. Keith headed toward Roc’s office, poking his head inside. “Find out who the muthafucka is who keep playin’ with my air. It’s hot as hell in here and y’all got my customers and me in here burnin’ the fuck up!”
It was rather hot in the whole place, so I understood his concerns. Obviously Keith did too, because he got on the intercom and said, “Roc said whoever it is messin’ with the goddamn air, leave that shit alone. If not, he gon’ cut off yo’ greasy, fat, crusty fingers! Troy!”
Everybody around us laughed. Personally, I thought it was very unprofessional, but what did I know? I sat in one of the metal chairs in Roc’s office. He moved some of the books aside and partially sat on the edge of his desk. Before I could say a word, another man came in. He was chubby and had a scraggly beard. The name TROY was on his work shirt.
“Sorry ’bout that, boss. Just tryin’ to save you some dollars, that’s all.”
“I dig that, but, ma
n, you don’t want us to die up in the mutha from heat exhaustion, do you? Leave my damn air conditioner alone and close my door. Tell these niggas to let me be for a while, a’ight?”
Troy nodded and closed Roc’s door. He pushed the intercom button, shouting as well. “Roc said get to work and stop lollygaggin’ around! Anybody caught slippin’ will not be paid! He also said don’t bother him for a while, unless it’s in regard to m-o-n-e-y!”
Roc shook his head and you could hear laughter again. “These fools are crazy. But, uh, what’s up, ma? I still can’t believe you’re here. You gon’ have to pinch me ’cause I feel like I’m in a dream.”
I crossed my legs and playfully cut my eyes at him. “You’re not in a dream, okay? I’m just concerned about a few things and I really need to talk to you about us. But first, I want you to be honest with me about something.”
“Shoot,” he said, touching the hair on his chin. “What is it?”
I glanced at the concrete floor, then looked up at him and sighed. “Are you engaged?”
Roc licked his dry lips while holding his stare. “Who told you that?”
“It doesn’t matter. Are you?”
I held my breath as he swallowed, looked out the window, then turned his eyes to me. “Yep. I am.”
Hearing him say “yes” caused me to tighten my stomach. My heart had dropped somewhere below it. “When were you planning on telling me?”
“I was gon’ tell you, Dez. I just didn’t think it was important right now.”
My eyes bugged. “Really? What would make you think that?”
“Because we really haven’t been seein’ much of each other since yo’ birthday. You’ve been busy, I’ve been busy, and it never seemed like the right time.”
“I get a feeling that you were never going to tell me. I think you were going to string me along and take all that you could from me until you couldn’t take no more. And if I by chance found out, you were going to happily walk away and do your best to do right by your wife.”
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