The Ex Factor: A Novel

by Whitaker, Tu-Shonda

  Starr poured Monica a glass of water and handed it to her. “Have you gone to the doctor?”

  “I'll be okay. I'm a nurse, remember, all I feel is miserable.” For a brief moment Monica thought of her fibroids.

  “Humph.” Celeste snickered. “Funny how the tables turn.”

  “Don't start.” Monica got up from her chair and walked over to the kitchen sink. As she turned around to sit back down, every-one's eyes darted directly to her protruding stomach.

  “Monica, are you pregnant?” Imani blurted out.

  Monica sucked her teeth. “You know I can't have children.”

  “The doctor never said that,” Starr said, taking a fork and tasting some of her collards out of the pot. “I was there. All he said was with one fallopian tube it would decrease your chances of having children. He never said you couldn't get pregnant.”

  “Ma, please I don't have time for that,” Monica said.

  “Celeste,” Starr said, “where's Sharief ?”

  “Why?” Celeste snapped. “What, are going to ask him if she's pregnant?”

  “Oh here we the fuck go!” Monica snarled. “Give it a rest.”

  “Wait a damn minute!” Starr screamed. “What is going on here? All I want is for Sharief to carry some of this food into the dining room!”

  “You should feel good and stupid.” Imani rolled her eyes at Celeste. “I'll get him, Ma.”

  “I'm getting a little sick of you two,” Starr said. “First my wedding day and now today! I'm not gon' have it.”

  “Ma,” Celeste said, lighting a cigarette, “this has nothing to do with your wedding day.”

  “Well, what the hell is going on? Are you two still upset about me not being with your daddies?”

  Imani walked back into the kitchen. “Sharief's coming, Ma. He was using his cell phone.”

  “Who was he talking to?” Celeste asked Imani.

  “How the hell am I supposed to know,” Imani said. “I don't keep tabs on your man.”

  “Remember that,” Celeste snapped, “when you're looking for Walik's sorry ass!”

  “This is not about Walik.”

  “I can't tell. Walik was sorry from the jump,” Celeste said.

  “And so was yo' daddy.”

  “All right now,” Starr warned.

  “What's all the screaming about?” Sharief asked as he walked into the kitchen. “How come it's always a war zone when y'all get together?”

  “Don't worry about it.” Starr pointed to the food. “Just get that food over there.”

  As Sharief reached for the first pot, he made eye contact with Monica. He could tell she was upset. He wanted to comfort her and ask her what was wrong, but decided that he would just leave it alone.

  Monica couldn't stand looking at Sharief. She felt as if she wanted to cry; the man she loved was untouchable. “I can't breathe in here.” Monica walked toward the kitchen's doorway. “I need to get some air.”

  Sharief watched Monica leave and immediately noticed her stomach. Almost instantly he tried to remember the last time she had her period.

  Celeste watched Sharief intensely as Monica walked past him. Sharief knew Celeste was watching him. “How's Red, Starr?” he said, frowning at Celeste.

  “As well as to be expected,” Starr said.

  “Ma, you think Monica is really pregnant?” Celeste said, giving Sharief the evil eye.

  “I don't know, chile.” Starr took the end of her apron and pulled her sweet-potato pies out of the oven. “I had a dream about fish, so somebody is pregnant.” She peeked at Imani.

  “It ain't me,” Imani said. “Humph, 'cause if it was, nobody would know about it but me and the doctor.”

  Starr rolled her eyes. “You just say any damn thing! Imani, grab that corn bread, Celeste, get them greens, and Sharief, take that pot and then come back and get the rest of this food, please.”

  As Celeste sat the greens on the dining room table, she looked around for Sharief. “Where's your father?” she asked Kai, who was playing with Kori and Jamal.

  “I don't know. I think he's outside.” Celeste walked into the living room and pulled the curtain back. She saw Sharief on the porch talking to Monica. She snatched the door open.

  “Celeste!” Starr called. “Come here, come here.”

  Celeste looked at Monica and Sharief. “Celeste!” Starr called again. “Everybody come here and see my babies! They said they got a little play for Nana-Starr and Pa-pa Red… Come on, Red.” Starr squeezed him around his shoulders. “This'll make you feel better.”

  Monica and Sharief came into the house and stood on opposite sides of the room.

  “Come on, babies,” Starr said to Kai, Kori, and Jamal, “make Pa-pa Red feel better.”

  “Do that shit, Jamal!” Mama Byrd yelled. “West Side, show 'em how we do!”

  Jamal winked at Mama Byrd then gave everybody else thumbs-up. “Okay, Mama Byrd.” He smiled. “We got something for you.”

  “Y'all gon' do that Eddie Murphy fartin'-my-ass-off impression?” Mama Byrd asked. “If you need to you can borrow my porta-potty.”

  “It's okay, Mama Byrd.” Jamal smiled. “We got one even better.” Jamal, Kai, and Kori all huddled together and whispered out their act to one another.

  “Y'all got it?” Jamal asked, breaking up the huddle.

  “We got it!” The twins cheered.

  “All right then,” he said. “All for one and one for all.”

  Jamal walked to the back of the living room, where everyone stood wondering what they were going to do. Kai stuck a crayon between her lips and let it hang from the corner of her mouth. She tapped her foot and pretended to be ringing the doorbell. “Ding dong,” she said. Nobody answered. “I said ding-to the-dong!”

  Kori hiked her skirt up to show off her thighs. “Who is it?” she said as she pretended to open the door. Immediately Kai pretended to punch her in the face, and she fell down.

  Getting back up, Kori said dramatically, “Oh my Lord! What the fuck is you doin'!”

  “My husband,” Kai sobbed. “You fuckin' my husband!” She placed her hands over her eyes like a sun visor. “Oh Lord! Oh Lord. Jesus. Help me!”

  Jamal walked over toward the girls as if he were a cowboy. “Now, what's going on here?”

  “My husband!” Kai clutched her chest. “I can't believe y'all doing this to me!”

  “Listen, tricks.” Jamal cleared his throat. “Ain't no need to argue, it's enough of big daddy to go around. Who wanna ride big daddy's train?”

  What kinda shit is this? Starr thought. This is not what I had in mind.

  “You fat ho!” Kori yelled at Kai. “He don't want you. You look like a greasy-ass monkey-dog with your mean and nasty self! I'ma punch you in the face the next time you say I have to go to bed at eight o'clock, to clean up my room, or to eat all my vegetables.”

  “Kai, Kori, and Jamal!” Starr yelled. “What the hell is going on?” She turned toward their parents. “What the hell kinda shit y'all teaching my grandbabies?”

  “Jamal,” Imani said, “I told you about cussin'.”

  “They off the hook,” Kayla said. “That's not right y'all making fun of the fight Mommy and Aunty Monica had over Daddy!”

  “Fight?” Starr screeched. “What fight?”

  “Y'all is some disorganized niggahs,” Mama Byrd said.

  “It's dysfunctional,” Kayla snapped at Mama Byrd.

  “Oh hold it, home slice, you gettin' fly? Better ask about me.”

  “Y'all had a fight?” Starr asked, still stunned. “Answer me!”

  “I'm not answering shit!” Monica yelled. “I'm tired of this.” She grabbed her purse and stormed out.

  Celeste looked at Sharief. “I'm ready to go.”

  “Get the kids,” he said, “ 'cause I've been ready to leave since I got here.”

  “Well, I don't care what they say,” Mama Byrd said. “That li'l skit was the shit. Call 'em tricks again, Jamal.”

  (Celest
e)

  “GO 'HEAD, CELESTE. Celeste, please go ahead,” Sharief begged while sifting through the mail and walking from the living room into the kitchen. “Here, here's the tape of your mother's wedding. It came in the mail today.” He threw it at her. “Go sit the fuck down and watch it!”

  “What the hell you want me to watch the tape for? So I can replay how you walked down the aisle with my sister while I walked by myself?”

  “Goddamn!” Sharief said as he turned, Celeste right on his heels. Celeste took the palm of her hand and mushed Sharief in the face. He grabbed her by the wrist and squeezed the bones on the side. “You want me to break your fuckin' hand off ? Please just go sit down.” He walked out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. He knew that if Celeste continued to follow him around and try to hit him, he would knock the shit out of her.

  Celeste was angry, and she became even more enraged every time he walked away and refused to answer her. It had been more than an hour that she'd been following him from room to room, mushing him in the head, punching him in his back, and torturing him with words. “I already know you fucked her!” Sharief ignored her and walked into the bathroom. “You no-good piece of shit!” Celeste continued. “Young ass! I should've known you wouldn't be a man. Fuckin' drunk! Does she know you're an alcoholic? Did you tell her your drunk ass is on desk duty? Or is she in love with your sober representative? Why don't you just admit it, she's pregnant!” Celeste punched Sharief in his back. “Say it! Say it!”

  Sharief tripped out of the bathroom. “I'm begging you, Celeste, please go ahead.”

  The kids were in their respective bedrooms, and they each had grown used to the constant arguing and fighting. They buried their heads under their comforters and eventually fell asleep.

  Celeste mushed Sharief again.

  “I'ma knock you in the fuckin' mouth,” Sharief warned her while walking down the stairs to the basement. All he wanted was to get away from Celeste. He couldn't stand the arguing; all it did was make him hate her more, and he desperately wanted to keep a small portion of love for her on reserve. “Get the fuck out my face!” He pointed his index finger into Celeste's forehead. “I'ma smack the shit out of you!”

  “Fuck you! Smack me, then! Is she pregnant? And what were you talking about on the porch? What was it? Was it me? Were you laughing at me? Were you cursing me? Did you say you wish you hadn't married me? You no-good niggah. I hate you! I hate you!”

  “Then let me leave, Celeste.”

  Celeste balled her fists up and ran toward Sharief. Before she could attack him, he caught her by her throat. Pressing her head into the wall, he asked her, “Are you trying to see if I can actually kill you or not? Do you know if I punch you hard enough in your throat, it's over for you?”

  Celeste looked in Sharief's eyes and saw tears, which turned her on.

  “It's not a crime to not be in love with you anymore, Celeste.” He let her neck go. “The crime is staying here and hating you. Doing all kinds of shit to you, because I can't stand to look at you.”

  “What can I do…to make this work?” she begged.

  “Nothing.”

  “Don't say that.” Celeste started kissing Sharief on the side of his neck. Her pussy started to tingle as she caressed the outline of his shoulders, feeling as much as she could of his well-toned body, from the thumping vein on the side of his neck to the veins running down his arms and into his hands.

  “What are you doing?” He hated that her kisses made his dick tingle. She continued to kiss him. Then her tongue made a trail up to his earlobe. Her nipples hardened and he could feel her breasts against his chest and for a moment he thought about how he used to love to suck them. “Is this what you want,” Sharief asked, “some dick?”

  “I wanna fuck you.”

  “This is sick.”

  “Let me see your dick. Please, I need to feel you inside me. Fuck me. I'm begging you to fuck me.”

  “Celeste, we can't keep doing this.” He started popping the buttons off her shirt. Lifting her bra, he remembered sliding his dick in between and cumming all over her dark brown nipples. Instantly his dick was hard. Celeste started unbuckling his pants and sliding his boxers down. Once his pants were down Sharief picked Celeste up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he slid his dick in.

  Celeste started to moan and Sharief fought hard to not envision Monica. He closed his eyes but all he continued to see was Monica's face, the sound of her voice and the way she whispered in his ear about how big and hard his dick was. Grab my hair, Monica would say, and make me work this dick. Sharief started grinding Celeste as hard as he could. He placed one of his hands at the back of Celeste's head and as he went to pull her hair, his hand slipped through her short curls.

  Celeste started to moan as she felt Sharief's fingers playing in her hair. “I like that, baby.”

  Instantly Sharief's dick deflated. He was hoping that Celeste didn't feel it, but as she moved her hips it slipped out. Never making eye contact with her he put it back in. Celeste gyrated her hips and started to moan and call his name. Again his dick went soft. He put it back in and a few minutes later, the same thing happened. This went on at least three more times.

  Eventually her pussy dried up and Sharief felt like his dick was a brittle tree bark, breaking apart, and landing in the midst of a stick bush.

  “I can't, Celeste. I just can't.” Sharief pulled his pants up. “I'm leaving. Don't try to stop me. I'll be back in the morning for my things and to let you know when I'll want to see my children.”

  Celeste slid down the wall in silence. She knew it was over, the way Sharief walked out the room and never looked back. The way his voice rang with finality and the way it kept a steady rhythm as he said, I'm leaving.

  She could still smell sex in the air, mixing in with the stinging echo of Sharief's announcement. She thought of running up the stairs behind him but she knew this time if she kicked him in his back, he would continue to walk away and never turn around. And she wasn't sure if she could stand up to the pain of him leaving and the pain of him staying gone.

  (Monica)

  “SO WHAT'S THE deal?” Listra said, pissed off that she was having this conversation. She crossed her legs while sitting on the couch and listening to Monica vomit into the toilet.

  As the vomit hit the toilet water, splashes of it hit Monica in the face. She rested her hand on the side of the sink, took a deep breath, and spit out what remained in her mouth. I'm too old for this shit, she thought.

  “This is one time,” Listra said, hearing the toilet flush, “that I agree with abortion.”

  “What?” Monica said, taking a piece of tissue and wiping specks of vomit from her face and the corner of her mouth. “I'm not having an abortion. Fuck that.”

  “You can't have a baby by your sister's husband.

  ” “Listen. If I hear one more time about whose husband he is I'ma scream. He was her husband when he fucked me. He was her husband when he told me that he loved me. And he's her husband now that I'm pregnant. Do I look like I give a fuck anymore whose husband he is? My guilt is long gone. She's the one who chopped up his hand and shit. Fuck her. She's had her babies, now let me have mine.” Monica walked out the bathroom and lay on the couch, resting her head on the arm. Her curly hair fell over the edge as she threw her right arm across her forehead.

  “Have an abortion,” Listra stressed.

  “Listra, I've lost one baby and now you think I should kill the other?”

  “Yes.” Listra mashed her cigarette into the ashtray. “I think this is one nut you should flush.”

  “Listra, I thought I couldn't have kids.” Monica sat up and looked at her.

  “And that was your own homemade thought. You have more than one egg. Hell, wait three, four months, ovulate, and fuck somebody else. Trust me. This is not what you need right now.”

  “How'd I get myself into this?”

  “Because you opened your legs and fucked him. That's how it happened.
That's why you need to have an abortion.”

  “I'm not having an abortion. I don't give a damn.”

  “Well, that's obvious.”

  “Look, Listra,” she pointed out, “either you be my friend and support me or maybe we don't need to speak anymore.”

  “Bitch, are you crazy?” Listra sucked her teeth. “Being your friend is not always agreeing with you. What you did was fucked up and what you're contemplating is even worse.”

  “You think I'm doing this to keep him?” Monica was pissed.

  “No,” Listra shook her head, “I think you're doing this so that Celeste can't.”

  “Fuck Celeste! This is about me! I already said that I won't tell Sharief.”

  “Yeah,” Listra huffed, “and that damn baby'll come here looking just like him.”

  “Don't say that. Besides, he asked me earlier was I pregnant, and I told him no. Then I told him to leave me the fuck alone. He looked at me and said, Never.”

  “I know that's a lie.” Listra laughed. “What is he supposed to do with his wife?”

  “His cell phone number is 718-555-1212. Call and ask him, I don't give a fuck.”

  “You're a real live bitch.”

  “I'm not a bitch!”

  “Yes you are. You're the mistress from hell. I'm telling you, if I were Celeste I would beat yo' ass. For real—no lie.”

  “Well, you're not Celeste. I'm done with her husband. Therefore she can have him. And I'm having my baby. Anyway I don't even know how far along I am. I only took the test this morning. My doctor's appointment isn't until next week, my period is irregular, which all translates to mean I really don't know how far along I am. I could easily be three, four months. I'm fat-ass hell, and if nobody wants to support me, then by all means fuck 'em!”

  “You're talking an awful lotta shit for somebody who needs friends.”

  “Whatever.”

  Before Listra could go on she and Monica heard keys jiggling at the front door. When they both turned to look at the door, the lock and the doorknob were turning. “Monica,” Sharief called.