by Marc Avery
“She’s downstairs,” I said and grabbed my bag.
By the time Paul and I got outside, she hopped out of her truck.
“It’s nice to meet you, Paul,” she said and shook his hand.
“Nice to meet you too. Make sure you treat my boy right.”
“I will,” she smiled politely.
I held her by the waist and kissed her on the lips. “Give me a minute, and I’ll be right there.”
“Okay.” She got back into the truck.
“Thank you for opening up your place to me.” I gave Paul dap and a hug.
“No problem, bro. You just be careful like I told you. And if things don’t work out, my door is always open.”
Truth be told, nervousness swirled around my stomach. I wanted my independence, but deep down, I wanted to prove my mother wrong too.
It was time to shit or get off the pot.
December
After two months of living together, Essence and I were still getting along okay, but my money was tight, and I could see this becoming a problem if I didn’t find a better-paying job.
Once we split the bills, I rarely had any money left over for myself. The last time we went out to dinner, I ordered water and the cheapest entrée on the menu. I couldn’t take being broke much longer.
On top of that, I still couldn’t get an agent’s attention. My frustration level was on ten, but I was determined to better my situation.
This particular night, Essence sat at the dining-room table number crunching, and I sat next to her on her laptop researching job opportunities and editing a new screenplay.
Every time she hit a button on the calculator, I became more worried about our financial situation. The money flew out of my bank account into someone else’s bank account. These were the pitfalls of adulthood, I guess.
She turned around in her seat. “Anthony, we agreed to split the bills fifty-fifty. Right now, your portion feels kind of light.”
I scrunched up my face and closed the laptop. “I give you everything I have. Ninety percent of my paycheck goes to bills and household needs. You know that already.”
She ignored my comment.
“I pay the majority of the bills, and that has to change, or we need to reevaluate some things in our relationship.”
I felt threatened by her statement.
“I don’t say shit when you splurge on $300 purses or shoes,” I countered and folded my arms across my chest.
She shook her head. “Men step up to the plate. Boys make excuses. Which one are you?”
I stood. “I’m a grown-ass man. I’ll get another job or do some OT. Don’t act like I’m slacking or something. I do my part around here without hesitation.”
“Obviously, you’re not doing your part as good as you think you are.” She stood too.
“Whatever, I’m out of here.” I waved her off dismissively.
“Go ahead and run away like a little boy.”
I grabbed my keys and jacket and left the house.
The fresh air against my face felt good. Essence and I arguing over money wasn’t a part of my plan. This shit had to stop.
In the beginning, she did any and everything in the bedroom, and now she was in the mood every once in a while. When she knew she had me, she stopped putting forth the energy needed to sustain our relationship.
She knew I barely had enough to pay my portion of the bills and let me know every chance she got.
Things were falling apart.
I took the bus to Center City and went into Wine and Spirits. I scanned the shelves and found a bottle of vodka. Even though I didn’t get carded, I was still on edge.
Luckily for me, there was a pretty woman at the register. A quick smile and a little flirtation got me out of the store without any problems.
Barnes & Noble was two blocks away and just being outside was good enough for me. The bright lights of Center City at night always fascinated me.
Once I got to the bookstore, I ordered a latte and went to the bathroom. Inside the stall, I poured vodka into the latte and went back out to the main floor.
I found a quiet spot to sit on the floor between the magazine section and a bookshelf. Observing people always gave me interesting material to write about. There was a mix of college kids and business types in the store. I wondered what their problems were and if they were masking them. Their facial expressions, clothing choices, and what came out of their mouths made for good description and dialogue. Sometimes the material wrote itself.
I stayed at Barnes & Noble until 10:45 p.m. typing screenplay ideas into my cell phone memo pad. By that time I had polished off two vodka lattes. I lumbered outside and caught the bus back home.
Back at the house, I crept up the steps and peeked into our bedroom and Essence was snoring.
I went downstairs and plopped down on the couch in the living room.
I needed more money, and Essence was showing me how impatient she could be. In my heart, I felt like we could get past this, but it had to be a joint effort.
I didn’t need her to compound the problem by telling me how little money I contributed. I needed her full-fledged support if we were going to make it through this rough patch.
December
On a Sunday afternoon, Essence and I sat at a table in the café at Barnes & Noble. She read one of those “100 Ways to Improve Your Life” articles in a women’s magazine while I e-mailed my pitch letter around to various agents while also looking for another job.
On the way to the bathroom, I passed a community information board. Someone had put up a flyer advertising a contest for writers, and the details interested me. First place in the contest received $1,000. Second place received $750. Third place received $225.
The top three candidates in the contest could win the money and a possible pitching session with a movie studio executive. I took the informational flyer and went back to our table. The excitement of the opportunity bubbled inside of me as I sat back down. The last few writing contests that I entered weren’t fruitful, so I needed this one to work.
“You and Paul still hanging out tonight?” Essence asked me without looking up from her magazine.
“Of course,” I said flatly.
“Funny how you have time to bowl, but you can’t work any overtime at your damn job.”
“I’ve begged my boss for more work. Nothing’s available right now. I can’t make them give me time that’s not available.” I closed the laptop and focused my attention on Essence.
“I’m sick of not having money because I have to cover for you too. I didn’t sign up for this.”
I slumped my shoulders. “I’ve been looking for jobs. I can’t force people to hire me. I’m doing the best I fucking can.” I pounded my hand on the table and got a couple of funny looks.
“How hard have you really been looking?”
“I’m on Indeed and CareerBuilder every day, so stop talking out of your ass.”
“If you’ve been looking so hard, how come you haven’t found anything yet?” she countered.
I shook my head. “Because nothing happens overnight. Things take time. When the right opportunity comes along, I’ll be all over it.”
With her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed, she said, “You need to speed up the process.”
* * *
Later that same evening, Paul and I were on our second game of bowling at Lucky Strike in Center City. We ate mozzarella sticks, soft pretzel nuggets, and talked shit with each other. I desperately needed a guy’s night out.
“Essence is pissed because I don’t make as much money as she does.”
“What’s your game plan to bring in more money, bro?” Paul went into his bowling stance.
“I’m going to do some OT when it becomes available and hopefully find another job. I’ve been looking for one since I moved in with her. I can’t find anything, and it’s frustrating,” I sighed.
Paul flung the bowling ball down the lane and hit four pins.
“She shou
ld be happy you have a job and you’re trying to find another one.”
“She won’t be happy until I get one.”
“Something will come along. I can feel it.” He came to the table and patted me on the shoulder. “Women want security. That’s a part of the game. You gotta know that going in.”
“I know, and I want to give her security. I gotta get on solid ground first, though.”
“I have faith in you, bro.” Paul nearly had a spare.
On my next turn, I threw a gutter ball. I hoped it wasn’t a sign of things to come.
December
Some mornings I tried to kiss Essence on the lips, and she moved her face, so I caught her on the cheek. I wanted us to be in a better space, but she was content to have us in turmoil. Sometimes I didn’t understand her.
I went out of my way to cook more and try to set the mood, and Essence blocked all of my attempts. In my heart, I knew that her attitude wouldn’t change until I brought in some more income.
I turned into a dollar sign instead of a boyfriend. She could’ve been encouraging, but she talked down to me and became argumentative.
After I poured myself a cup of coffee spiked with vodka, I logged on to the screenwriting contest’s Web site and submitted my screenplay named Compromised.
As I thought of Essence and our relationship problems, my mother popped into my head. I could see her saying moving in with Essence was a mistake, and I needed to be with a younger woman. All I wanted to do was make her proud. I wanted to show her that I could stand on my own two feet. My method of telling her was way off, but in the moment, I let my emotions get the best of me, and I shouldn’t have.
We definitely needed to talk, and there was no time like the present. I called her house phone and prayed that she picked up.
She went right in on me when she answered the phone.
“You have a lot of nerve calling me. What do you want?” she sounded agitated.
I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Mom, for the way I spoke to you. I had to show you I could do things on my own.”
“I know you can be independent. You’ve always been self-sufficient. I just wanted to prepare you for this relationship. Women aren’t easy to deal with. I know because I’m not always easy to deal with my damn self.”
“I never imagined living here would be this hard.”
She laughed. “Let me guess. You thought you were going to give up a little money and she would give you all the sex you wanted, right?”
“Maybe not exactly that way, but close.” I couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m not thrilled about you guys living together or being together, but I can learn to accept your decision. You’re grown now, I can respect that.”
“I’m glad to hear that. It means a lot coming from you.”
“I love you, son, and I want you to be happy.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
“You just be careful and value the relationship.”
“I will.”
“Things will get tough, but how you handle it says a lot about the man you are or the man you’re not.”
“I know,” I sighed.
“Trust me, everything will be okay. It takes time to get used to living with each other.”
When I got off the phone with my mother, I felt better about my living situation.
Not to mention she made a great point about being patient.
* * *
Later that day at work, I loaded the dishwasher and ran the silverware through a wash, rinse, and drying cycle. The restaurant was abuzz with activity, and the kitchen area was chaotic.
I cleared the empty tables and took the bin of dirty dishes to the precleaning area. I had to repeat this process at least fifteen to twenty times a day. It annoyed the hell out of me.
“Anthony, when you’re done with what you’re doing, come to my office so we can talk,” Phaedra said to me. Her tone didn’t reveal her mood. Not a good sign. I was scared, and my breathing became labored.
With nervous energy flowing through me, I dried my hands off with a dish towel and threw the rag into the dirty linen pile. I walked into her office and forced a smile. She motioned for me to sit down in the chair in front of her. I did as I was told.
“Anthony, you’ve been one of the most consistent employees during your tenure here.” She paused.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I couldn’t come up with a reason for me to be fired. Nothing stood out, and the uncertainty of the situation sent me into a panic. As far as I knew, I did everything I was supposed to.
“I hate this part of being a supervisor. I truly do. Unfortunately, I have to cut everybody’s hours for the foreseeable future. Business is trending downward, and this is a temporary solution to shave our money losses. This is not an indictment against you or your work ethic. You’ve done everything required of you and more. I thank you for your commitment.”
She offered a warm smile and an understanding tilt of the head. I had been dropped into the pressure cooker. Beads of sweat formed on me almost everywhere at once. Images of Essence’s face all twisted up in anger haunted me. As soon as I told her the bad news, I could imagine her giving me an earful about it. I dreaded even going home. I could smell the liquor because I wanted a taste so bad.
“I totally understand.” I nodded and half-smiled. “How many hours am I losing?” I slouched back in the chair.
“You’ll lose one shift per week.”
“I hope things pick up soon.”
“Me too.”
The rest of the day blurred together for me, and I walked around like one of the zombies from Michael Jackson’s Thriller video. After I got off work, I called Essence on her cell phone to see what kind of mood she was in.
“I’ll be over at Paul’s apartment for a few hours.”
Paul pulled up to the front of my job. I got in the passenger side of his truck and gave him a handshake.
“Again? He your girlfriend now?” she asked sarcastically.
Great. She was in a shitty mood.
“Man, you’re seriously tripping.”
“Let me know if I should be scared you’re going to leave me and be with him.”
“You can kiss my ass,” I yelled and pounded my fist on the dashboard. “And another thi—”
She disconnected the call before I could finish.
“Was that Essence?” Paul asked.
“How could you tell?” I asked sarcastically.
“Pure luck,” he said, and we laughed.
We got to Paul’s University City apartment in no time. I was just glad to be anywhere but home.
I flopped down on his brown couch.
“What’s up with you?” Paul asked. “You were quiet most of the ride over here.”
“I’m losing hours at my job. Everything is falling apart.” I rubbed my forehead.
Paul sat down on the couch with me and patted me on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, man. You know if you need to borrow some money all you gotta do is ask, bro.”
“I appreciate it, man, but I wouldn’t put you in that position.”
He waved me off. “You’re like my brother. Whatever is mine is yours. You know that.”
“I feel like I’m cursed. The more I try to do right, the more shit goes wrong.”
“At this point, all you can do is look for a part-time gig and come at Essence with the truth.”
I gave Paul the side eye. “I don’t think telling Essence my hours got cut is the best idea. She’s already pissed off with me.”
“If you don’t tell her, shit is only going to get worse, bro. Trust me on that.” His face became serious.
I looked up at the ceiling. “Maybe you’re right.”
“You know I’m right.”
I couldn’t go home and tell Essence I lost hours at my job right away. She would be even more pissed than she already was. I needed to buy some time until I had a better plan to break the news to her.
“You think I can crash her
e tonight?” I asked.
“No doubt.”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
“You just make sure you handle your business,” Paul said, and we shook hands before he went into his bedroom.
I turned the TV on and kicked back on the couch. My feet were on fire from standing all day. Just as I nodded off to sleep my phone vibrated. My mother sent me a text message.
I got a front-office job with the medical aid unit! Just when you least expect it things turn around.
Knowing my mother would be able to make her own money made me happy. But the good news was only a temporary distraction because I would have to face the music with Essence sooner or later.
Before I went to bed I sent Essence a text message letting her know I wasn’t coming home tonight.
She sent me a text back: Tell your girlfriend I said hi.
I tossed my phone on the floor and closed my eyes.
A good night’s sleep would do me some good.
December
I was stuck in purgatory. If I told Essence about my reduction in pay, she would probably flip out on me. If I didn’t tell her and she noticed the money being lighter, she would flip out on me. Basically, I was fucked.
The next morning, feeling desperate, I found myself standing in The Gallery Mall. Maybe if I gave Essence some gifts when I told her about the lost hours they would soften the blow. I needed to get back on her good side.
I stood frozen inside of Victoria’s Secret. I had never been in a lingerie store before, and I swore the workers knew this to be a fact. Being around tight-clothed, big-breasted women selling lingerie made me sweat a little bit. I wanted to touch every store worker’s breasts all at the same time.
“Something I can help you with, sir?” a thick, bronze-skinned employee asked me with a sparkling smile.
My mouth watered at the sight of her huge breasts poking out of her top. “Yes . . . uh . . . where is the lingerie section?” I stammered at her visible cleavage.
The awkwardness continued humming right along.
“Follow me,” she directed me with a curled finger. I stared at her peach-shaped ass as she walked in front of me.
We stood near a dressed up mannequin and a table covered with lace underwear and bras.