The Ex Factor: A Novel

by Whitaker, Tu-Shonda

  As soon as Imani opened the door, she spotted Walik sitting on the couch, sucking on the tip of a blunt. Jamal was so sleepy that he didn't even notice Walik. He walked directly to his room and fell out across the bed. Imani walked in behind him and pulled his pants off.

  “What the fuck?” Imani screamed at Walik as she came out of Jamal's room.“What the hell I tell you about smoking if Jamal is home!” She knocked his feet off her coffee table and picked up the two empty bottles of beer he had sprawled on the floor. As she walked in the kitchen to place the bottles in the trash, she looked around and saw that the place was a mess: dishes in the sink and dirty plates on the table.“Damn, Walik, you couldn't clean up?”

  “Your fault, humph,” she said sarcastically, walking back into the living room. She threw her keys across her glass coffee table and looked at the clock, which read four am.“So where have you been all day?” she asked Walik.

  “Goddamn, you walk in the door fuckin' naggin'.” “Walik, I asked you a question.” “And I asked you to stop stressing me.” He mashed his blunt in the ashtray.“Damn.”

  “Damn what?” She frowned. “You know how many times I called you. I know you got my messages. You couldn't call me back?”

  “I didn't hear my phone ring.” He put his feet back on the coffee table.

  “It's awfully funny how you never miss a call when I'm around.”

  “I been in prison for two years, you ain't been around like that.”

  “And from what I can see,” Imani said, “you still the same grimy-ass niggah you were when you went in there.”

  “I was waitin' on it and there it is.” “What?” She placed her hands on her hips.

  “That bullshit.” He sat up and pointed his finger at her.

  “You just a fuckin' naggin' ass.”

  “So what, suck ya dick and stop flappin' my lips?” she said sarcastically.

  “Basically.”

  “Fuck you!” “Naw, I'll pass. Anyway, how you get home?”

  Imani quickly blinked.“My mother—my sister, brought me home.”

  “Which one?”

  “Celeste—Monica.”

  “Why you lyin'?” He cocked his head to the side.“I can't stand to be lied to.”

  “What?” She sucked her teeth.“What the hell I gotta lie to you for… and don't try and turn the shit around on me. Where the fuck you been? I been calling you all fuckin' day! You saw my number, you knew I was calling you, and you couldn't even call and say you're okay?”

  “Yo.” Walik got off the couch. “I should slap the shit outta you for standing in my fuckin' face lyin'! I saw your niggah drop you off a minute ago.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me!” he yelled. “I saw that punk bitch drop you off and you had my son in the car!” He walked over to Imani and grabbed her around the neck.“I should knock your fuckin' head into the wall! This is exactly why I don't fuck with you for too long, fuckin' whore! You lie too much. I just got home from a bid and already I gotta put my hands on you.” He took his hands from around her neck.

  “Walik, it wasn't even like that!”

  “Shut the fuck up! You stressing me. Y'all jumping me and shit all because I called some bitch, but then yo' niggah drops you off and you lie to me? I should break yo' face, yo'. I knew you was fuckin' his ass!”

  “I wasn't fuckin' him. I don't even know him like that!”

  “Imani, you was practically riding his dick in the club. When I asked you then how you knew him you should've been like, This is my friend. You was gon' for two years, yadda-yadda, and maybe, just maybe I would've understood.”

  “Are you serious? I've been more than faithful to you.

  ” “Beat it, 'cause I'm not beat for it.”

  “It was a coincidence,” she insisted. “He just happened to be the DJ at my mother's wedding. As a matter of fact, he DJs at NV and he's a DJ for Hot 97, the Friday-night nine o'clock rap, reggae, and soca mix.”

  “Why is you spittin' this niggah's résumé at me? You tryin' to throw that shit in my face? What, I ain't good enough for you no more, Imani? Now you got to have the local DJ.”

  “Oh…my…God!” Imani couldn't believe it.“What are you talking about? You probably made more money on the street than Kree has seen in a lifetime.”

  “So that's his name? Kree? What kinda bitch-ass name is Kree? What the fuck is that? Bitch ass!” Walik kicked the glass coffee table over, causing the glass to shatter all over the floor.

  “Stop it!” Imani yelled.

  “You know Jamal is sleeping.” “You know what?” Walik picked up his wallet off the floor and stuffed it in his back pocket.“I'm sick of yo' fat ass!”

  “I ain't fat. Shante's ass is fat. Yo' ass is fat, motherfucker!”

  “She might be fat but at least she knows what to do.”

  “What to do? Do about what? All y'all fat asses can do is make sandwiches.”

  “Lyin' bitch!”

  “You the liar, Walik.”

  “Kiss my ass, bitch!”

  “What? You kiss my ass, open it up and lick the pink inside of it!”

  “Imani!” Jamal ran into the room, wearing his white tuxedo shirt and Spider-Man underwear. His thighs were chubby and rubbed slightly together.“What is going on in here? I'ma call nine-one-one this time!”

  “Let me get out of here, before I hurt somebody. I swear, don't come near me!” Walik yelled.

  “Go back in your room, Jamal!” Imani screamed. Jamal didn't move. Imani ran in front of Walik as he walked toward the door and blocked his path.“Where you going, Walik?”

  “What? If you don't get the fuck out my way—” “Don't leave. We both got upset, and we can talk about it. Jamal, go in your room!”

  “Naw, he ain't gotta leave. Seems to me that he's more of your man than I am. So you, ya kid, and the Rican can live happily ever after. I don't give a fuck.”

  “Yeah right. What, you wanna run to Shante?”

  “At least she ain't got another niggah droppin' her off.”

  “Are you still messing with her, Walik?”

  “What the fuck you think?” He pushed Imani out of the way.

  “Don't call me no more.”

  Imani quickly turned around and tried to grab Walik from the back, but she couldn't quite catch him as he slammed the door in her face.“Walik!” She opened the door and yelled down the hallway.“Walik! Come back! It wasn't even like that! It wasn't!” He pressed the button for the elevator. Imani ran down the hall trying to catch him, but as she got there he stepped onto the elevator. Within seconds the door closed and she was left standing alone in the hallway.

  Imani felt like her whole head was spinning. She walked back to her apartment, sent Jamal back to bed, and crouched on the floor between the couch and the shattered glass of the coffee table. She held her head down and started crying. By the time she looked up, the sun was reflecting light from behind her and shining rays all over the living room.

  (Monica)

  BITCH! WHERE DE bumbaclot you been? And why've you been hiding from me the past couple of weeks?” Monica's best friend, Listra, snapped at her as she walked into Patsy's Café, a small West Indian restaurant on Flatbush that Listra and her mother owned. The restaurant was nothing fancy. In fact the word café in its name was fancier than the place. The restaurant was mostly a tight box, with a small air conditioner, four round kitchen tables with plastic floral tablecloths and matching chairs, a counter that doubled as a bar, a jukebox, and a soda machine that sold Trinidadian Chubbies. But no matter what, if you wanted the best West Indian food in Brooklyn, then Patsy's was the place to be.

  Listra stood behind the counter with a cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth as she pulled her shoulder-length hair into a ponytail. Monica sat down at the counter and slyly unbut-toned her denim capris. Damn, she thought, when did these get too tight? She did her best to pull her white DKNY V-neck tee over the waist of her pants as she reached over the counter to greet
her friend.

  They kissed each other on the cheek.“Look at you.” Listra smiled, mashing her cigarette in the ashtray.“Humph, the dick must be delicious because your bumpsey is telling how well your coochie is eating it up.”

  “You are so fresh,” Monica said, laughing.“But girl, my ass is gettin' big,” she went on, resting her elbows on the counter, “I had to unbutton my pants just to sit down and believe it or not, for about three weeks, or at least since the wedding, I've been on a diet and I can't seem to lose weight for nothing.”

  “Girl, just give it up, don't nothing want a bag a bones but a dog and even he buries 'em. So to hell with being skinny. Fuck them skinny bitches.” Listra leaned forward on the counter. She folded her arms underneath her large breasts and blinked.“You know what I'm sayin'?”

  “Listra, you are a mess. I'm sooooo happy to see you. I've been needing somebody to talk to. Girl, I have a million and one things going on.”

  “What's going on?” Listra stood up and wiped her hands on her apron. “But first tell me what you want to eat.”

  “Akee and salt fish, rice with oxtail gravy, some corn soup… oh and some callaloo… and some dumplings…a currant roll too.”

  “I thought you were on a diet.”

  “I am. But I've been wanting some of your mother's akee and salt fish all week.”

  “You ordered a little more than akee and salt fish.”

  “Just get the food, girl.” Monica playfully rolled her eyes.

  “Patsy gurl,” Listra called to her mother.

  “Oh, ya callin' me Patsy, hauh?” She walked from the kitchen to the front, her eyes lighting up when she saw Monica.“Listra, ya mouth more hot dan it's sweet.”

  Monica laughed.“You must watch ya mouth, gurl,” she said in a fake Trini accent.“Hi, Ms. Patsy.”

  Patsy walked over and kissed Monica on the cheek. “Hey dere, baby. Good to see ya, chile. How ya mummy and she new husband?”

  “They're fine, thank you.”

  “Mummy.” Listra smiled. “Monica wants some akee and salt fish, corn soup, rice with oxtail gravy, callaloo, dumplings, and a currant roll.”

  “What?” Patsy screeched. “Ya belly big, gurl?”

  “No,” Monica said, trying her best to hide her hurt feelings. “I can't have children.” She lowered her eyes.

  “Who told you dat? The good Lord tell you dat?” Ms. Patsy asked, placing her hands on her hips.

  “No.”

  “Well until the good Lord tell you dat,” she said as she lifted Monica's head up, “you remember that you a 'oman and if you got a man to screw you can have a chile.”

  Monica laughed. She knew Patsy was trying to make her feel better. “Okay, Ms. Patsy.”

  “I'm going to fix ya food now, chile.”

  “Mummy,” Listra said as Patsy turned to walk back into the kitchen, “I'll take some crab and callaloo.”

  Patsy sucked her teeth, long and hard. “You own dis place here too, ya know.” She shook her head and smiled. “Dis here chile of mine.” She walked back into the kitchen.

  “So tell me,” Listra said, “what are the million and one things going on?”

  “First of all, you remember Chauncey?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, he dumped me.”

  “He did what?” Listra said, trying not to snicker. “Girl, it's okay,” Monica said, “you can laugh.”

  And with that said Listra stretched out in laughter. “He did what? Oh Gawd.”

  “But I figured it was for the best. I didn't really want him for my man. I just wanted him to hang around.”

  “I hear you, girl. So tell me, what else is up?”

  “Let me tell you, the day my mother got married, Celeste flipped on her.”

  “I thought you said you all liked your mother's fiancé, well, husband now.”

  “He's okay. A little tired. He and my mother still think that he's famous. He's harmless, though. But Celeste still has some resentment about my mother and the many men she's had in her life.”

  “And you?” Listra poured Monica a glass of ginger shandy.

  “Just some water, Listra, I can't take the smell of that.” “Of what?” Listra said, taken aback. “The shandy? You love shandy.”

  “I know, but not today. Just some water.”

  “Okay. Now go on, I'm listening.” Listra sat the shandy to the side and poured Monica a glass of spring water.

  “Well,” Monica continued, “not until I really thought about how and why Celeste was going off did I really start to think about how many of my mother's ex-factors we've known. But shit, my mother and her boyfriends were just a part of life. Starrla Britt didn't let no grass grow under her feet, okay?”

  “So … what's the problem with that? She took care of you, right?”

  “Oh, hell yeah,” Monica assured Listra, “in between her working and being on welfare at the same time, we wanted for nothing. My mother loved us, almost too much, but trust and believe she loved men too.”

  “And the problem would be?”

  “I guess the problem is that we knew too much of her business, and all we ever saw was one man after the other, after the other. I remember one time, I was about …” Monica looked at the ceiling, then back at Listra, “eleven and my mother had a boyfriend, who had a daughter my age, I forgot her name, Rhonda I think … anyway, she and I played together all the time and her father was so nice to us, not to mention his daughter and I were best friends. Well, one day I was hanging out the window, watching up and down the street, waiting for him to come and get me so his daughter and I could play. Well, after an hour of waiting my mother announced to me that not only was he not coming to get me, but I wouldn't be seeing him or his daughter anymore.”

  Patsy walked out of the kitchen and sat the plates of food on the counter. Listra sat down in the chair behind the counter, and she and Monica sat face-to-face, eating.

  “So your mother and her boyfriend broke up?”

  “Yeah,” Monica said with her mouth full.

  “Did she tell you why?” Listra took a sip of the shandy that she'd previously poured for Monica.

  “Hell no and I didn't ask, unless I wanted to be slapped in the mouth for being too grown.”

  “What about you and how you felt? Didn't your mother understand that? You said how nice he was to you.”

  “Oh chile please, the way my mother saw it, they were all nice. Once thing about Starr is, if you didn't like us, or treat us nice, then she didn't fuck with you. And to this day, even with her new husband, that's still the deal. But when we were kids, what my mother didn't understand is that we had feelings and when these men were nice to us and introduced us to their families, took us places, and made us feel good, we became attached to them. And sometimes we couldn't deal with them breaking up.” Monica took a sip of water. She broke a piece of salt fish and stuffed it in her mouth. “Oh this is sooo good…,” she moaned.

  “Would you finish talking?” Listra laughed.

  “Okay, listen, what you need to understand is that yes, my mother loved us; and yes, she took care of us. And no, she didn't let nobody fuck with us, but what she didn't realize is that we couldn't take the breakups with her men. We were little girls, what were we supposed to do with heartbreak? It was bad enough that we all had different fathers and kids used to ask, ‘How come you and your sisters have different last names?’ Then on top of that, not one of us had a responsible father and every time my mother brought a new man home, especially someone we liked, we were all hoping that Mr. Well-Liked would stay around long enough to become our daddy. But it never happened, so I guess when your mother is doing her thing, those are the breaks.”

  “So your fathers just never came around.”

  “Nope.”

  “Do you at least know what your father looks like?”

  “No more than what I see in the mirror every day. From the pictures I've seen, I look exactly like him, the dark mahogany skin, almond eyes, thick c
urly hair.”

  “Not to change the subject.” Listra swallowed her food. “I saw Walik around the corner on Church with a newborn baby girl.”

  “Get the hell outta here!” Monica couldn't believe it.

  “At first I thought Imani had another baby.” “Hell no, I would've kicked her ass!” Monica stuffed a piece of fish in her mouth. “When Imani has a baby, we have a baby. And I don't want any more kids, okay?”

  “I hear you. Sounds like my sister. But anyway as I went to speak to him, some chick walked up and started talking to him, so I left it alone and kept on going.”

  “That niggah is sorry as hell. I'll be so glad when Imani gets rid of him,” Monica said.

  “She's been with him forever.”

  “I know.” Monica rolled her eyes. “And forever is too damn long. She's been calling me every day. That's how I know she's miserable. Because when all is well in paradise, I don't hear from the wench, other than when she's dropping Jamal off.”

  “Well, how's Celeste?”

  “A fuckin' lunatic.”

  “She still thinks her husband is cheating?”

  Monica stared at Listra for a moment and took a sip of water. “Yes. She thinks he's cheating.”

  “Is he? You would know, he's still staying with you during the week, right?”

  “Yeah, he does.”

  “Well hell, does he act like he's cheating?”

  “Uhmm, sometimes.”

  “Oh hell no, bitch, cough it up. Since high school you have told me everything.”

  “I know but…I want to tell you something… but I don't know how or what you'll think of me, and what you think is important.”

  “Don't tell me, you're fuckin' him.” Listra laughed. “I'm just playing girl, tell me. He's cheating, ain't he? Pussyclot! I knew any man that looked like Common was way too fine to be faithful.”

  “Yes, he is.” Monica swallowed hard.