“Hmm, I heard that. She must’ve been pretty special, huh?”
“It was like I lost my mind. And the only way I can describe it is this: It was like I built a house that had a whole lot of windows, yet I still couldn’t see through them.”
Lorraine listened to him open up to her and she wondered if she should do the same. She quickly determined a relationship with a man could never develop if she was unwilling to be vulnerable. Even though she was scared to get hurt, relating to people always involved risk.
“Wendell, you’re preaching to the choir. But I can preach, too.”
“Preach!”
She unfolded her arms and stood to her feet. She began to pace the floor as she talked.
“You see, I know what it’s like to be involved with a man who, by all outward appearances, I shouldn’t have even been with. We spoke two different languages, and were way beyond the Mars versus Venus type of thing.”
“Explain.”
“I was educated. Am educated,” she corrected. “Highly educated. In contrast, my former lover barely graduated high school. He struggled financially, but had the nerve to state that he made one hundred grand a year on his MySpace profile. Truth was he periodically dabbled in under-the-table jobs to make ends meet. And back in the day, magazine articles advised women to stick with someone who shared the same social class, upbringing, and spiritual beliefs. But now, advice columnists tell you not to restrict yourself to just the same old predictable guy who you think you should have. They tell you if you can’t find your Ivy-League white-collar guy with the BMW, give a fair chance to the blue-collar man who has an associate’s degree and drives the Ford Focus. You hear what I’m trying to say.”
“I hear ya.”
“Well, keep listening because there’s more. The fact that I was an educated black woman who paid her bills on time, listened to classical music, and ate somewhere besides Chickfil-A every other day made my little high-school-diploma guy feel he had to throw his weight around, put me in my place, tell me that my earning that degree wasn’t about anything. It’s just ‘a stupid little piece of paper.’ Can you believe he said that?”
“I believe that his response to your accomplishments says everything about him.”
“Huh, my ex’s reaction said more than I ever wanted to hear,” she replied, happy Wendell understood. “Shoot, I studied hard and worked even harder to obtain that ‘stupid little piece of paper.’ But he was mad, he acted bad, and the boy can keep being sad because I’ve decided I will not dumb myself down and feel scared to share my accomplishments since it’s obvious he’s insecure and feels like a nobody because he ruined his life with poor choices. Not my problem. Not my fault.”
“Baby girl, sounds like he wished he had what you had, but because he didn’t have what it takes to achieve success like you did, the only thing he was fit to do was degrade you!” Wendell said excitedly. “That’s what haters do.”
“I know, Wendell. But don’t get me wrong. Half the time he acted like he was proud of me, the other times he would hate on me and I would try my best to stop all that. I mean, how in the hell can a black man despise an educated, good-looking black woman, yet any of these black men would be sooo proud to flaunt a three-hundred-pound white or Hispanic woman who only has a funky G.E.D. but she’s a manager at Kroger? Not that there’s anything wrong with being a retail manager, but jeez, my issue is with the man. I don’t understand how some act as if he’s got it made only because he convinced a less successful non-black woman to marry his ass. Do you know how awful that makes me feel? As if a black woman who has her stuff together isn’t good enough? I’m getting pissed just thinking about it. Humph! That’s why I’m by myself right now.”
“I’m not mad at ya.” Wendell nodded. “Your story makes me wonder about my own sit-u-ation,” he said emphasizing his words in a way that made Lorraine grin. She took a deep measured breath, settled in his guest chair, and waited for him to share his story. She appreciated this side of Wendell, the side that didn’t mind getting down and dirty. These days telling it like it is was what she wanted. She felt that black men ought to be strong enough to let their woman shine and know that her accomplishments didn’t take anything away from him.
“Wendell, you got a situation?” she teased.
“We all got sit-u-ations, let me tell ya.”
“I’m listening. Go ahead.”
“She walked like a queen who had a throne; head held very high, so high that I was afraid she wouldn’t even notice me the first time I noticed her.”
“Ah ha.”
“Elegant, wore Elizabeth Taylor perfume that smelled so sweet I could taste her. Vivacious shape with smooth brown skin that was so pretty I wanted to cup her face between my hands.”
“You liked that, huh?”
“I loved that. Loved how she carried herself: strong, confident, sexy, alluring. She had me from hello.”
“She said ‘hello’?” Lorraine said teasingly.
“Well, I said it first, but she said hello back, and she had me and had me and had me until she didn’t have me anymore.”
“Hold up. You’ve lost me.”
“See, this woman—”
“Again, does this woman have a name?”
“Faye.”
“Faye. Got it.”
“Faye had me, but as much as I wanted her, I never had her. She was a pro at playing the cat-and-mouse game. She let me get close enough to sniff it, but she wouldn’t let me touch it.”
“Ahh, and you really wanted to touch it, right?”
“I wanted to touch it and renovate it, put my hands all in it like it was that sand out there on Galveston Beach. I wanted to dig in it and mold and reshape it and make it everything I wanted it to be.”
“But she wasn’t down with that,” Lorraine said.
“Hey, are you going to let me tell the story in my own words or what?”
“Sorry, go ahead.”
“She wasn’t down with that,” he said sheepishly.
Lorraine felt like smacking Wendell, but she resisted and let him continue.
“The more Faye put space between us, the more I wanted to fill up that space. And I scared her away, frightened her right out of my life.”
“Where is she now?”
“She’s wherever women go when they’re trying to get away from a man.”
“She moved to another city, a different state?”
“She might as well have; that’s how far she feels from me.” Lorraine could sense that Wendell’s playful description of what happened was nothing to play with. He seemed deeply despondent. In a way she kind of wished he could be with the woman Faye, since he wanted her so badly. But just because you want something so badly that you hurt inside and out, it doesn’t mean that obtaining it would ease your pain.
“Wendell, I hear what you’re saying and I can relate, but maybe, for the both of us, not having these people in our lives is for the best. Some relationships are toxic and they make you worse, not better. Would that be true in your case?”
“I’ll never know, Lorraine. I never got close enough to even find out if her love tasted like poison. I just wanted a small sample.”
“Well, I can tell you one thing: you have admitted more intimate things to me than any man I’ve ever known. Usually they just won’t go there.”
“Won’t or can’t?”
“Maybe both. Guys can barely understand themselves, so it is hard for them to adequately explain the emotions they feel inside. To me it seems like some guys lack emotions. They can be so cold and cruel and uncaring.”
“Baby girl, what you don’t realize is behind closed doors, and late at night, real men break down. They cry when they think about their struggles. Many times they hit the gym, get fitted up in boxing gear, and take out their frustration on their sparring partner. It happens every day. Truth.”
“I appreciate that.” Lorraine thought about all the days Posse would tell her that he needed to let off som
e steam. Sometimes, he invited her to watch him shoot hoops at the neighborhood basketball court where the white net had been stolen, but the orange rim would suffice. The guys aggressively shoved each other, trying to defend their team. They’d dribble the ball all the way down the court, leap off their feet, ferociously slam that ball inside the hoop, and scream at the top of their lungs like they were releasing all their pain.
“Maybe I should have taken time to understand my guy a little more. I could rant and rave and accuse him of never wanting to spend time with me. And he’d argue back, tell me I was ‘wigging out’ or ‘you bugging, Lo.’ Eww, I hated when he’d say things like that. I’d tell him to speak English. He’d tell me the same thing. We were talking to each other but we couldn’t hear each other. It’s really sad when you think about it.”
“And so the story continues,” Wendell jumped in. “You meet a new man. Y’all hook up. Everything feels rosy. Time passes. Reality sets in. You have your first argument. It’s amusing at first. But then the arguments occur with greater frequency. What used to seem cute now makes you cry. And you wake up one day, balled up in pain and hating his guts, and you wonder how you got there.”
“One day leads to the next, and the next, and that’s how it happens. That’s how everything happens,” she replied, amazed at how well Wendell understood the dynamics of relationships.
“Hey,” he said, glancing at his watch. “We could chat about this topic till infinity. But I need to get a handle on this day and get something accomplished. My damn taco is probably cold and hard and lost its flavor by now.”
“Ah haa, sorry!” She extended her hand and was pleased when he accepted it. They shook hands. “We’ve had an invigorating conversation. I cannot tell you how good it feels to talk to you, Wendell. I mean that.”
The rest of the morning Wendell participated in project team meetings. He added data to spreadsheets and reviewed schematic designs of a new classroom building that was being proposed for Rice University. But his mind was split between work and Lorraine. Faye and work. Faye and Lorraine. He felt like he was about to lose his mind. He needed an outlet. Sex was out of the question. Since he wasn’t in a relationship and frowned on casual sex, he had to think of other activities to keep his mind occupied. By late afternoon, he knew what he wanted to do.
Thirty minutes before the day ended, he went to the restroom. Almost as soon as he finished up in the men’s room and stepped into the hallway, he spotted Lorraine. She held her car keys in one hand, a briefcase in the other. She struggled to hoist her purse over her shoulder.
Here was his chance.
“You’re leaving early?” he asked nervously.
“Yeah, I gotta pick up a package from the post office. Why? What’s up?”
He grabbed the back of his head and glanced at the ceiling for a second. “You like the Rockets? They’re playing the Lakers tomorrow night.”
“Oh hell yeah. I love me some b-ball. You got tickets?”
“Um, yeah. If you don’t mind, um, hanging out.”
“I’d love to go. Thanks for asking.”
“Good deal. It’s a date!”
“Is it?” she asked sweetly. It made her smile to see that as confident as Wendell seemed, he could still be vulnerable and unsure. The more she got to know him, the less perfect he appeared. And for once, imperfection felt okay.
7
It Ain’t Over Till It’s Over
Lorraine gripped the edge of her seat in great anticipation. They’d just arrived and were pulling into a parking space inside the Toyota Center Tundra Garage located downtown. Wendell opened her car door and took her by the hand, which surprised her. He didn’t hold on to her for long, though; a throng of basketball-game attendees crushed against them and temporarily separated her from her date.
“Hey, are you all right?” he asked with a worried look on his face as soon as they reconnected.
“Oh, I’m fine. As long as my purse is still on my hip, I’m cool,” she joked as they walked through the crowded parking garage. Soon they were at the entrance of the stadium. Lorraine opened her purse so security could check for prohibited items. Wendell handed the ticket person his credit card so she could swipe his magnetic strip and print their tickets. Just being in the wide first-floor hallway gave Lorraine a bolt of energy. Many people wore red Yao Ming and Aaron Brooks jerseys. She noted quite a few folks wearing purple, gold, and white jerseys, too. They found their seats in section 110 and waited for the tip-off.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe the energy of the crowd,” she said.
“It’s always like this when Kobe is in the house.”
“Beat L.A. Beat L.A.”
“Listen to them chant. This is insane,” she laughed. “And fun.” He offered to buy her a beer and a small pizza and she let him. It felt so good to be with a man who didn’t mind paying for dates. So many times when Posse was broke she reluctantly paid for his tickets, drink, and food for the events they attended. She always made excuses and told herself that one day, when he got himself together, he’d pay her back for her generosity. But after dating for months, he was still chronically unemployed and had a hundred excuses about why he never had any money except when it came to buying forty ounces of beer and a bag of weed.
“Let me know if you need anything else. I don’t want you to have to worry about a thing.”
“Wendell—”
“Wendell what?”
“Thank you!”
“That’s what I hoped you were going to say. We worked hard all week long and I just wanted to have a good time tonight and be with someone who’s fun to hang around.”
“You know what? You’re so right. Sometimes we women can get so focused on our jobs and responsibilities that we—rather, I—make up excuses sometimes when it comes to just chilling out and enjoying myself.”
“Well, all that nonsense is about to change, especially when you’re with me, baby girl.”
“I am so happy to be here with you. So, so happy,” she purred to Wendell, feeling grateful to be in the company of a man who exhibited class, self-pride, and dignity.
“All I care about is you enjoying yourself.”
“Yeah, I’m cool, but I’ll feel even better if the Rockets can catch up.”
So far they were losing by eight points. But they had another three quarters to go and anything could happen before then.
Aaron Brooks shot four three-pointers in a row. The crowd immediately perked up and got back into the game. Lorraine loved how warm her body felt when Wendell rubbed her arm each time the home team scored.
“It ain’t over till it’s over,” Lorraine sang, and clapped when Luis Scola scored two points with an easy layup. Lamar Odom got the rebound but lost it when he threw the ball out of bounds.
“It’s R-r-r-r-rockets’ ball,” yelled the announcer.
Ecstatic, Wendell and Lorraine high-fived, continued enjoying the game, and engaged in some people watching.
During the second quarter, the Lakers called a time out. Kobe Bryant limped to the sidelines and people began pumping their fists and cheering.
“Crazy, crazy,” Lorraine laughed. “But people got to do what it takes to win, right?”
“Right,” Wendell said and winked at her. “You need to do whatever it takes to get what you want.” She felt a gush of warmth ooze through her veins.
Feeling happy feels so good, she thought.
Soon the kiss camera began aiming its lens at couples sitting in the audience. People would gaze upward, spot themselves on the big screen, laugh, point, and then kiss one another. Lorraine smirked and shook her head at the big display. But when she saw her and Wendell magnified on the monitor, she opened her mouth in shock.
“Play along,” he said smoothly and pulled her face close so that his lips touched hers. He gave her a solid kiss and even closed his eyes. When they were done kissing, someone behind Lorraine tapped her shoulder. She laughed and felt embarrassed. By halftime she didn’t know wh
at to think. Would Wendell have kissed her later, perhaps when he dropped her off at her car, which she’d parked outside EDC so they could ride in one vehicle? She never dreamed of kissing him, and when it actually happened, it went by so fast that she couldn’t remember how she felt when it happened.
A kiss is a kiss, she thought and promptly attempted to forget about it. Because the way Wendell was acting, like he kissed co-workers every day and it wasn’t a biggie, she decided to leave well enough alone.
“Hey, let’s go walk around,” he told Lorraine and stood up. She followed his lead. They marched side by side out of the arena and entered the main hallway, which flowed with people rushing to beer stands, restrooms, and concessions.
“If you want, we can check out the team store and see if they have any fitted caps on sale.”
“I’m with you,” Lorraine replied and followed Wendell down the hall until they reached the paraphernalia store.
Lorraine went to the right, while Wendell headed to the left toward the hats. She browsed through the store, observing warm-up jackets, gym shoes, T-shirts, and mascot stuffed animals.
As Lorraine eased toward the other side of the store, she stopped in her tracks. An attractive, above average-height woman stood in front of Wendell gazing directly into his eyes. He feasted his eyes on her as if she was the only person in the entire store. The lady grabbed his arm and snorted with laughter. When Wendell laughed with her, Lorraine abruptly turned around and went in the opposite direction. It felt like a deep hole had been dug in her belly. Suddenly she couldn’t care less if the Rockets won or lost. She pretended to be interested in some sweatshirts when she felt someone nudge her from behind.
Wendell waved at her and looked serene.
Wonder how he managed that.
“Ready to go?”
“Go home or back to our seats?”
He scowled but ignored her comment. She instantly felt irritated. They left the store and returned to their section.
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