Crush

by Lovely, Lutishia; Grant, Michele; Rax, Cydney

  Lorraine grew up in an upper middle-class family on the north side of Dallas. Her parents married each other a few months after they both earned master degrees. They obtained good jobs as educators, saved their money, plunked a hefty down payment on a ranch-style house, and then had their two children: little Lorraine Yvonne followed by Joanna Marie three years later. Lorraine admired her parents for their strong values, sense of responsibility, and no-nonsense approach when it came to life. They held high expectations for their daughters, and Lorraine didn’t want to let them down.

  Of course, when she met Posse and began dating him, Lorraine was forced to keep their relationship a secret for months. If her Church of God in Christ mother knew she was hanging out with a man who wore his pants so low that everyone could see the color of his boxers, she’d have a fit, first calling on Jesus and asking him to save Lorraine from her sins, then pulling her eldest daughter to the side and asking her what her problem was.

  “I didn’t raise my girls to lay up with any old man,” Francis Eafford would often say. But once Lorraine did start sleeping with Posse, she thought her mother didn’t know what she was talking about. The sex that Lorraine had with Posse was oh-so-good: hot, wild, freaky, noisy, sweaty, lengthy, messy, impulsive, painful, and all consuming, just how Lorraine liked it. Outside the bedroom, she became addicted to Posse’s streetwise ways, his playful swagger that kept her blushing and giggling. From his shoulder-length braided hair, to his piercing, light brown eyes that sparkled in the sun, to his chiseled jaw that made him look thug sexy—everything about Posse drew her. Because he was so unique, she felt that trying to explain her feelings to him was too overwhelming. And lately talking to him on the phone wore her patience. This evening she had had just about all she could take. Instead of hanging up in his face like she was tempted to do, she addressed his nonanswer.

  “Posse, you talking bad to your mother has nothing to do with whether or not I enjoyed being with you.”

  “So you saying you did love me? And you are gonna come crawling back to Big Daddy? I’m still here, Lo. I’m ready for ya, legs spread, waiting for you to crawl on top—”

  “Stop it, Posse, don’t talk like that.”

  “Why not? Your pink thong getting wet? You want me to come to Houston and fuck the panties off you?”

  “Oh God, please be quiet.” Posse knew how much she adored pink undergarments; plus he knew all of her other likes and dislikes (NBA games, any movie with Angela Bassett, and sweet-tasting chocolate-covered strawberries). The fact he knew her so well sometimes surprised her. She didn’t think a man like him could be so in tune to her, but he was. He knew the right dirty words to say to get her turned on; turned on until there was no turning back.

  When they were an item, she used to love when he’d talk his nasty talk, but she despised when he opened up his nasty mouth in front of his nasty friends. It made her feel cheap, like a run-of-the-mill whore he could find on any city corner. Lorraine knew she was more than just some chicken head he liked to screw. She was Lorraine Yvonne Eafford, a young, black, female architect in the state of Texas. She had a Master of Architecture degree from Texas Tech University and she was thriving in her career.

  It broke her heart that she had tried to make something work that was bound to fail. In retrospect, she could admit she lowered her standards to be with a man who probably couldn’t truly appreciate a good woman like her. A man who didn’t understand that calling his own mother out of her name was an absolute no-no.

  And the fact that he made this mistake on more than one occasion made Lorraine realize that you can take a man out of the ghetto, but the ghetto will always be a part of that man. He’d constantly be drawn back to the familiar, even when he knew it wasn’t good for him. And every single time that happened, Lorraine would lose hope that she and Posse could be together forever.

  “Posse, I really wish you’d just answer my original question.”

  “Which was?”

  “Tell me why you call your mama the b-word.”

  “What?”

  “What kind of man calls a woman that?” she asked, almost shouting.

  “A man whose long, tasty sausage you used to love to slobber on, dat’s what kind.”

  “Ugh! Posse, this conversation is over. I’ve moved on. Don’t call me anymore.”

  Hands shaking, Lorraine hung up. She rushed to the bathroom and felt grateful that her bathwater hadn’t overflowed and was still hot. She slid off her aqua jersey tank and matching running pants, stepped over the edge of the tub, sank her body deep into the water, swiftly closed her eyes, and dreamed of better days.

  When Lorraine finished soaking and felt refreshed, she lifted herself out of the tub, thoroughly dried herself off, and applied scented lotion to her entire body. When she returned to her bedroom, instead of getting dressed in a nightgown, crawling into bed early, and calling it a night like she’d originally planned, she threw on one of her favorite dresses, an outfit that made her feel confident and beautiful every time she wore it. She still felt on edge after talking to Posse and had an urge to get away from her apartment. But before she walked out her front door, she returned to the bathroom and gazed at her reflection in the wall-length mirror. Even without a hint of makeup, Lorraine’s features showcased her attractiveness: round cheeks that expanded when she laughed, deep-set dark brown eyes that lit up when she felt joyous, and protruding soft lips that hinted of her occasional pensive nature.

  With a quivering voice, she said, “I love you, Lorraine Eafford.” She tried not to flinch as her voice grew stronger. “I love you, Lorraine. I love you, Lorraine. Love you, love you, love me.” She gasped like she’d just spoken the most difficult words she ever uttered. But soon she detected an inner strength that had been missing from inside of her the past couple of months. She felt focused, centered, and more than anything, she believed she possessed the power required to move on from one lover to another.

  Lorraine sensed that although it was true that she missed some of the unforgettable moments she’d shared with Posse, as good as things seemed during their best days, there was something greater ahead for her. Something she couldn’t see initially, but a good thing that would be revealed in time.

  2

  Regaining Power

  At first Lorraine felt overwhelmingly self conscious. She wondered if everybody was looking at her while she stood in a line crammed with people waiting to buy movie tickets. In front of her was a thirty-something white couple dressed in matching Western shirts and boot-cut jeans. And behind Lorraine stood two giggling Asian teens wearing neon skirts and blouses as if it were summer instead of mid-March. Everyone looked like they were paired with someone else. But she was alone. The mousy brown–haired woman standing in front of Lorraine clutched the hand of the man standing next to her. Heads held close together, they spoke softly to each other and laughed in unison. The smiling lady rotated her body until she came face to face with Lorraine. Immediately, Lorraine’s posture grew stiff. The woman gave Lorraine a sympathetic glance then turned around and held onto her man even tighter.

  Lorraine was tempted to dash out of the line and walk away. No matter how you sliced it, being alone sucked. Many women claimed that they loved being single and didn’t mind going to the movies by themselves, but Lorraine wasn’t about to fake that sentiment. The girl craved companionship. And tonight, venturing out alone to see the number-one comedy in America and laughing at the funny parts would make her feel even more self conscious.

  Lorraine took a deep breath, counted to ten, and quickly eased out of line, wanting to apologize to someone but sensing no one would care.

  Eyes blurry, she pulled up the collar of her linen jacket so that it fit snugly around her neck and braced herself for the strong, cool wind that nipped at her that Sunday evening. She took ten steps before she heard her name being called.

  “Hey, Lorraine, where are you going?”

  She glanced around and was surprised to find Wendell Holmes st
anding nearby; he was a fellow architect who worked at her firm.

  “Oh, hey, what’s up?”

  “You look like you’re going in the wrong direction.”

  “Well, I was just, um—”

  “You were probably doing what I was doing. I was at home surfing the Web. And I clicked on Moviefone and realized this flick I’ve wanted to check out was showing. I busted my ass to make it over here in time.”

  “You’re not meeting anybody?”

  “No, no, no, no.” He laughed with ease. “That’s how badly I wanted to see this picture.”

  Lorraine had always admired Wendell from afar while they were at the office. Every day when he’d pass her at work, Wendell had a kind word to say even though they didn’t know each other well. And she appreciated his good looks, too. Wendell always wore a neat, low-cut fade and a trimmed mustache; he dressed in impeccable suits with polished leather shoes. But more important than his outward appearance, she was impressed he admitted that he’d come to the movies alone.

  Raw truth.

  “Which movie were you coming to see?” she asked him.

  “Aw, man, should I say it?”

  “The truth is always a good place to start.”

  “I want to see that romantic comedy that everyone’s been yapping about. Cold busted, huh?” His eyes gleamed with kindness. “Yep. I’m a sucker for a well-produced romance with clever nuances and great comedic flair. Plus it never hurts to gain some insight about the mysterious mind of the female species.”

  Now he really had her attention.

  “Yeah, I’m man enough to admit y’all confuse a brother at times. They say women are simple, but whoever made that up was lying through all her damn teeth.”

  “Her teeth, huh?” she smirked, loosening up. “As if men are uncomplicated, and simple, and easy to figure out.”

  “We are! That’s what y’all don’t get!”

  “Wendell Holmes, you need to quit. Tell me one simple thing about a man.”

  “Hey, if you can remember this one thing, it’ll save you a lot of heartache. Ya listening? Okay. Here goes! Men are only interested in facts. Ya heard me right. The who, what, when, where, how. Stick to what’s factual; trim off the rest. If you do this when you’re talking to your man, he will understand you. You’ll understand him, too.”

  “Hmm, give me an example.”

  “I love this,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s say you want your man to hang a painting on that empty living room wall at your spot. What would you tell him?”

  “I guess I’d say, ‘Baby, that big ole wall sure looks empty.’ ”

  “Bingo! Guess what? It’s the wrong thing to say to your man. Wrong, wrong, so wrong.”

  “I don’t have a—” she started softly, but he didn’t hear her.

  “Instead, try giving your man a hammer. Put some nails in his hand, point at that cheap painting you got from Marshalls, and tell him, ‘Sweetie, will you please hang the picture on the wall? I love how you take care of manly things for me. You do such a good job.’ ” He made his voice sound feminine. She nearly burst out laughing.

  “Oh Jesus,” she smirked. “It sounds like I’d be giving instructions to a ten-year-old.”

  He just looked at her and didn’t say anything.

  “Wendell, I’ll have to remember that, but it sounds so . . . I dunno. It’s just too simple.”

  “That’s because we aren’t complicated. Exactly what I’ve been trying to explain to ya.”

  They laughed good-naturedly and Lorraine’s feelings of self-consciousness completely faded away.

  Wendell thoughtfully stared at her and shoved one hand deeper into his pocket. “Tell you what. While we’re out here yapping and trying to stay warm, the clock is steadily ticking. You don’t look like you’re doing anything important right now. Join me in watching this movie. We’ll discuss it afterward over a bite to eat. That is, if you don’t have other plans.”

  She agreed to watch the movie with him. They returned to the theater and promptly got in line. When they reached the box office, Wendell graciously paid for their tickets and led them to empty seats near the front of the crowded theater. During the previews, Wendell took her order and made sure to bring back the precise beverage and snack that she asked for. If it had been Posse, and if he were in a nasty mood, he’d purposely do the opposite. If she wanted tortilla chips with cheddar cheese, he’d get the nachos, but he’d take over and add those nasty-tasting jalapeño peppers because, “I love them peppers, Lo. Now be quiet and eat your snack or else I ain’t going to the movie wit you no more.”

  I’d better enjoy this treatment while it lasts.

  Once the movie started and the plot began to unfold, she and Wendell laughed at the same lines. They nodded when a character spoke dialogue that rang with truth, and protested when they didn’t agree with the characters’ actions. When the ending credits rolled, Wendell just sat there with his eyes fixed in front of him.

  “See what I’m talking about?” he asked.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Ninety minutes later and I am still no closer to understanding women than I was when I first walked in this joint.”

  Lorraine felt warm and fuzzy inside, noting his silly comments. When she and Wendell got up to leave, she noticed the white lady whom she saw in line earlier. This time Brown Hair didn’t turn up her nose. She openly gaped at Lorraine, glanced at Wendell, frowned heavily, and left in a huff. She wasn’t with the man she was hugged up with only a couple of hours before.

  “Relationships are hard.” Lorraine nodded as she grew sober. “They’re very hard.” She felt she needed to get real. She may have sat next to Wendell and had fun, but the fact was Wendell was just her co-worker. Tonight was good. Tomorrow was another day. As she thought about how in the next twelve hours she and Wendell would be back on professional terms, she felt down in the dumps.

  “Hey, what’s the matter? You sure got quiet on me.” Wendell walked Lorraine to her car, a white-on-white Buick LaCrosse.

  She popped the locks on the vechicle and, instead of getting in, she leaned against the door.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize I was that quiet. Nothing’s wrong. Just tired.” She yawned. “You know I’ve been off all last week. I was on a staycation.”

  “Were you? Nah, I didn’t know.”

  She felt a flicker of anger. Of course he wouldn’t know. It wasn’t his job to know. She pulled herself together and offered him a warm smile.

  “Um, but I really appreciate your inviting me to see the film. I loved it.”

  “Hey, Lorraine, you sound like you’re not going to chow down with me, but I know you’re still hungry. All you ate was that little bag of popcorn. You barely sipped on your cola.”

  “I know.”

  “I hate to see people waste food. That’s one of my pet peeves.”

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  “Hey, there’s something stuck on your lip.” Without asking he reached out and flicked off a kernel of popcorn from her face. When he brushed his hand against her skin, she noticed his hands were warm, rugged, and strong. Standing next to Wendell made her feel like she had nothing to worry about.

  Lorraine’s smartphone started ringing. By habit, she dug in her pocket for the phone and saw her ex’s name flash.

  “Hey, I gotta get this,” she apologized and slid her finger across the smooth screen.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, how you doing? What’s up? What’s happening, lady?”

  “I’m just now leaving a movie.”

  “Oh yeah? Who you with? I better not find out you with some other nigga.” She heard voices shouting in the background, men arguing like the fools they were.

  “Don’t even try it, Posse.”

  “I’m more serious than a mug. I’ll hop a plane in a second.”

  Even though they weren’t together anymore and she’d been rejecting his pleas for weeks, she liked that he kept comi
ng after her. She knew that if she told him not to call but continued accepting his calls, he wouldn’t take her seriously. But she couldn’t help herself. There were only so many times she could stay home in the apartment, cook for one, and watch Tyler Perry comedies on TBS every Wednesday night. Sure, she loved laughing out loud at the sitcoms for hours, but after that, then what?

  “Hey, Posse, this is bad timing and I—”

  “So you are with another nigga? Who is he? Y’all fucking?”

  “Anyway, I will call you back later. Bye!” She hung up in the middle of Posse’s angry tirade. Whereas before she’d felt calm and peaceful, now her shoulders stiffened with tension.

  What in the hell should I do? I don’t want my ex to have any kind of power over me. I need to regain my power.

  3

  Possibilities

  I can’t believe Posse still knows how to get under my skin. Lorraine stood stiffly in the movie theater parking lot next to her car. She folded her arms over her breasts.

  “Is everything okay?” Wendell asked. He stepped beside Lorraine and placed his hand on her shoulder. “If you ever need to talk, you’ll find that I’m a good listener. Don’t hesitate to find me, call me, whatever.”

  “How can I call you . . . ?”

  He recited his cell and home numbers to her, which shocked Lorraine. She felt warm and decidedly more focused as she added his info to her phone’s address book.

  “My offer still stands. It’s getting late, but if you’re a fan of Mediterranean lasagna and bourbon sweet potatoes, I know a good place. Hey, why don’t you follow me? I’m in the tan Sebring.”

  Wendell headed toward his car without waiting for her response.

  The second she couldn’t see him anymore, she settled inside her car and dialed Posse.