I proceed to the food court and she follows. “You have to be content with being alone. The universe will bring you someone when you least expect it,” I encourage her, speaking personally. “Bad experiences can create low expectations, but you’re not cursed. Things will change.”
“Shut up!” she says. “You sound like a fucking horoscope.”
She’s closed off, so I seal my lips and step into the China Express line. I give her a minute to herself while thinking about my own experiences.
I know all too well about low expectations with relationships. Those initial butterflies I felt when dating always turned into foul creatures that devoured the possibility of a functional relationship. Because of those experiences, I’m addicted to failure. But I strive hard for sobriety. I don’t want skepticism to cause me to relapse with Deidra.
After eating, we head to the car. Deidra calls with an update as we’re leaving the mall parking lot. “This apartment is filthy,” she says. “I cannot have Shannon in this nasty-ass room. She’ll be in the hospital again.”
“Is there mold?”
“That, rust, dust, and mustiness. We’re not moving one thing in here until it’s clean, but I need my crate.” Her trusted cleaning supplies are in the milk crate in the laundry room. “It’ll take almost an hour to drive home and back.”
I listen, paying more attention to merging onto a crowded expressway.
“Anyway, where are you?” she asks.
“Out, shopping with Tasha.”
“Well, you can run home and bring it to me?” The question sounds more like a demand than a favor. It also seems like a last-ditch effort to lure me to campus until she says, “Can you meet me halfway?”
Though that is a much better option, my conscience nudges me. Why should Deidra waste time with meeting me when I have an open schedule? This day will only happen once in her lifetime. I need to help eliminate the challenges and make the day memorable.
The matter is settled. I’ll run home and deliver the crate.
~ * ~
The interior campus streets are jam-packed and slow moving with no access to street parking near Shannon’s dorm complex. The traffic officers direct all incoming cars to the parking garage, which is annoying because I only have one thing to deliver and will have to travel by foot on a humid August day. Tasha stays in the car with the air and music blasting.
Nostalgia hits me as I walk from the garage to the dorms. The engraved quotes in the sidewalk, manicured landscapes, charming redbrick buildings, and palpable energy are so familiar. I miss the fervor and newness of freshman year— a time when real-world responsibilities and complicated relationships were non-existent.
Shannon’s apartment is three blocks from the garage. I head west in search of Door 212, stopping shy of Door 208. I sit the crate on the ground to call Deidra. At this distance, I can avoid the heart of activity and still see her walk out the second-floor apartment. Shannon steps outside and waves at me as Deidra proceeds down the stairs.
“You didn’t have to walk over here,” she says.
“I don’t mind. How’s it going?”
“Slow.”
There’s no need to postpone progress, especially after the door opens and Shannon’s father strolls outside. I grab the crate and hand it to Deidra.
“No goodbye kiss?” she asks. I move forward like her lips are magnetic, relishing the moment to remind him that Deidra’s with me. As people pass with armloads and dollies, we share a nose-touching kiss and separate. “I’m sure Shannon didn’t like it either.” We laugh and kiss again, like first-year students craving attention and reputations.
I walk out of the complex feeling like I’ve relived a moment of freshman year. I’m glad that I pushed my reservations aside to make the delivery. The smile on Deidra’s face was definitely worth it. Students, parents, volunteers, and staff stroll along the sidewalks, feeding my positive energy.
I stop at the corner with a swarm of strangers, waiting for the traffic officer to direct our crossing. My eyes wander in all directions, not expecting to see Deidra’s husband in the distance. Where is he going? With two blocks to go, I glance back to gauge whether he’s following me. At first glance he’s there. The second time I check, nothing.
In the garage, I bypass the group huddled at the elevator and head to the stairs. Footsteps and voices trail me, but no voices that I recognize. It’s unlikely that I’ve parked on the same level as him given my late arrival. I exit the stairwell on level four and hesitate, awaiting memory and sense of direction to kick in. When I step forward, a deep voice shouts my name.
Of course I know who it is. I look back to survey the distance between us. He’s quickly approaching me, so I stop walking. I have to keep my eyes on him. I keep my stance loose in case I need to sprint in the opposite direction. He stops two cars away, though he’s close enough to charge forward and grab me.
It’s sunny out, though the shadows of the garage are deceiving. I have my phone, but by the time I attempt to make a call, he’ll snatch it away. Tasha had the music so loud when I left the car I doubt she’ll hear my muffled screams. No one else has entered or exited this level of the garage since he stopped me. I have no idea whether the security camera by the elevator is under surveillance.
Before I let these thoughts trigger any degree of panic, I should assess this situation. “Are you parked on this level?” I need to know whether his presence is coincidental or deliberate.
“I’m on two.”
“Then what do you want?”
He steps forward and I step backward. I rub my pants pockets, realizing they’re empty. The only thing I can use to defend myself is more distance.
“You’re a major player in Shannon’s life now,” he says. “We should at least meet.”
“For what? I’ll never see you again.”
He stares at me hard. “Listen, I know my wife. I know why she went to Pat’s funeral. Payback. And I know why she’s bumping pussies now. Payback. You actually think she switched teams for you?”
He flashes his million-dollar smile, a complement to his tall, dark, chiseled stature. He knows he’s a catch. He takes a step closer. Then he squares his shoulders, bringing his hands together in front of his crotch. Cocky.
“I’m still her refuge,” he says. “Don’t forget, not too long ago, Deidra was on her back with her legs around my waist, singing me praises and begging me to go deeper.”
That’s a hit below the belt, but I don’t flinch.
“She’s a rebel with a short-lived cause,” he adds. “When the dust settles, she’ll find her way home.”
The animosity is intense, but I’m over his posture and intimidation. From what he’s said, I know exactly what I’m dealing with: a man with a bruised ego. There’s only one thing left for me to say. “How true, Eric. Tell Deidra I’ll see her later.”
39
LATELY, MY COMMUNICATION with Jacoby has consisted of lengthy texts and video messages. We haven’t watched SVU in months. We see each other in passing at work and rarely have lunch together anymore. So I’m not surprised when he calls after work to suggest we get a bite to eat. We haven’t talked in days.
Deidra is lying in my lap watching the evening news. I place my free hand on her arm. “I’m not alone,” I inform him.
“Okay. She gotta eat, too,” he says.
Is this a roundabout invitation? Skeptical, I ask, “Are you sober, Jacoby?”
He chuckles. “I’m serious. There’s a new Mexican restaurant not too far from you.”
I’ve already been there with Deidra. The food doesn’t warrant a return visit. “Nah, what about that place down the street from you?”
“Cool. They got good wings.”
As soon as I end the phone call, Deidra says, “You sure you want me there? You can bring me something back. I don’t need him spoiling my day.”
“It’s fine. Let’s get out the house.” Though I enjoy lounging in undergarments for extended periods of time,
I’m restless now. I need to put on a little makeup, leave home, and interact in a different space. Last week, Jacoby agreed to be cordial with Deidra on a full-time basis. So I fully expect him to dine in good spirits.
~ * ~
At the restaurant, there are no slick comments as we’re escorted to the table. No eye rolling as we order. No dismissive hand gestures as we eat and talk. Jacoby is loquacious as usual. He doesn’t use Deidra’s presence as an excuse to spare details from his scandalous tales.
“Sometimes— for about two seconds during the big reveal— I’m thrown off when a woman is straight on the top and nappy on the bottom,” he shares.
Deidra laughs. “And then you recall relaxers and flat irons?”
“Right!”
The more they talk, the more lewd the conversation grows. I just sit back, half listening, watching the NFL kickoff game on the nearest flat screen. They’re getting along and need the practice. No need for me to interfere.
Their conversation catches my ear when Deidra says, “I prefer some hair. Hairless is too juvenile for me.”
That’s good to know because I planned to do more than trim the hedges this weekend. I had every intention of unearthing them. I divert my attention from the game to see what other tidbits of useful information I can gain.
“On top of that,” Deidra continues, “hairless women are kind of lazy.”
“Come again?” Jacoby says. “You making a judgment based on the carpet?”
“That’s been my experience.”
“You sound like a woman with mileage.”
I freeze, waiting for his remark to wipe the grin from Deidra’s face, but her amused expression doesn’t change. “From what I’ve heard so far,” she says, “you have thousands more than me.”
He laughs. “Let’s toast to oil changes.”
As they salute with tea and Sprite, I think about the few cars I test-drove before Kayla. Deidra eventually admitted to me that she jumped in the driver’s seat of two pre-owned cars during her marriage. But we are Driving Miss Daisy compared to Jacoby. He’s a reckless speed demon who crashes and burns weekly.
“You got a preference on the texture?” he asks.
This is how they should have interacted from day one; mature and amicable without brief undertones of sexual tension. They have more in common than they realize. Folks that sit in the middle of a restaurant speaking openly about pubic hairs with people in earshot deserve to be friends. Hopefully, their newfound similarities will propel them forward.
My optimism is tested when the waiter brings the bills. He places one before Jacoby and the other before me. Jacoby pays close attention to who will pay for our meals. If I grab the ticket, he’ll hold his tongue. Then tomorrow, he’ll send ranting texts about how Deidra is using me. Without discussion, Deidra grabs the ticket and Jacoby breaks his gaze.
“What are you doing this weekend?” I ask.
“My weekend started yesterday. Matter of fact, when I leave here I’m swinging by the house then I’m off to see some females who keep asking to double-team me.”
I have no words, but Deidra has a passing thought. She looks out the window and disapprovingly shakes her head.
“If you weren’t with Nia,” he says, “you’d be in line, shoving your way to the front for this wood, too.”
“Agreement!” I remind Jacoby. He’s way out of line. Apparently, he has an hour grace period before the fake smiles and forced cooperation expires. “Seriously?” I roll my eyes and exhale to curb foul words.
The reprimand is effective. He shuts his mouth and they both slide cards from their wallets across the table with the tickets. However, as soon as the waiter retrieves their payments, Deidra breaks her silence. “A man who brags on his dick in public has a short attention span in private. But, despite your shortcomings, a quick fuck would be worth breaking you in.”
“The only thing you’d get from me is a sore back,” he says.
“Please. I know your type. You crave attention. You like when women coddle you. That craving translates to being my bitch in the bedroom. I just need a thirty-minute hall pass.”
I tap my fingernails on the table. At this point, what’s the point of intervening? If I open my mouth, profanity will fly out. And then I’ll get so mad about losing my cool and attracting unwanted attention that I’ll say something just to push Jacoby’s buttons. “Don’t act like you don’t know about being versatile in the bedroom,” rests on the edge of my tongue. “I know you missed your calling, but it’s not too late. You’re still young and virile enough to join the porn industry. You’re good; gay-friendly talent is in high demand. You might as well get paid for nutting every fucking day.” We both know his closeted ass doesn’t like to be reminded that he’s hiding behind a steel door. And undermining his profession is like shitting on his manhood. The thought of saying those words to him is so enticing that I’m salivating. But if I blurt that out, he’ll crack. He’ll verbally assault me and Deidra will unleash all hell on him. Then we’ll all leave this restaurant in handcuffs.
I clench my lips. Eventually, they’ll reach a dead-end road.
“Damn,” Jacoby says, “who’s doing who? Nia, I thought I taught you better.”
Deidra is capable of fighting her own battles, but I can no longer sit quietly— not after Jacoby has disrespected my relationship, again, by referencing our short sexual history. Before I can form the statement that should fire from my mouth, Deidra places her hand on my leg. “I yield to her touch,” she says. “Unlike you, I don’t have a problem relinquishing control.”
“Really?” Jacoby asks. “Then shut the fuck up. Wait… On second thought, keep your mouth open. You’ll finally put it to good use once you’re on your knees.”
Deidra’s face is unreadable. I don’t know whether she’s on the verge of snapping or stalling to form a rebuttal. She turns to me, eyes begging for permission to go toe-to-toe with him.
“End of conversation,” I say. And I mean it.
She drops her head, seeming to struggle with whether she’ll surrender or declare war with Jacoby. After a moment, she places her hands in her lap and avoids eye contact with him.
The waiter is taking forever to return with their cards. I keep forcing myself to avoid Jacoby’s face. But the same frustration that makes me turn away also makes me want to look at him again. I don’t know why I expected him to look somewhat dejected. He’s not. He glances at me and pinches the grin on his face. I just know he’s itching for the opportunity to provoke Deidra. I’m tired of waiting and being in the midst of this tension. When I grab my purse to leave, Jacoby turns his attention to Deidra and says, “You’re paying the bill, today, but you know what you were doing. You were serving burnt out pussy for meals and a place to live.”
“You’ve got some nerve.”
He ignores me to savor his dirty words. “You have a job, for now, but you’re still a lying, married whore on the come-up.”
I point at him. “Stop!”
“Let him finish,” Deidra says.
“Be glad you chose Nia. I would’ve fucked you and dropped you off on the nearest corner. You wouldn’t have deserved the ride there, and you damn for sure don’t deserve anything she’s done for you.”
I ease my hand to Deidra’s knee, but I’m not afraid of an explosive response. I’m touching her to restrain myself. She doesn’t speak or blink. I can barely tell whether she’s breathing. She’s expressionless with her chin atop her fingers as if Jacoby no longer exists. Her detached reaction helps me retain my composure. My heart is pounding and I want so badly to pick up whatever’s left on this table to shame and scar him for his insults.
Finally, the waiter returns with their cards and receipts. Deidra signs the merchant copy and tucks the other copy in her purse. “Let’s go, love,” she says. She’s willing to walk away. I’m eager to retaliate.
“No,” I say. I take a deep breath to keep my hands under the table. I’ve been sitting here until I can open my
mouth without physically attacking him. “You got a problem with me?”
Jacoby tosses a tip in the middle of the table. “What are you talking about?”
“This bullshit boils down to the fact that I cheated on you with a woman. You insecure motherfucker. And till this day, I don’t regret it. Thank God I’m not like you. Thank God I’m not sleeping with random women to give my asshole a break. Grow up Jacoby and get the fuck the over it.”
He fixes his eyes on the opposite side of the restaurant.
“Admit it!” I demand.
“You’re wrong,” he says.
“No, you’re wrong for not wanting me to be happy because you couldn’t keep me.” I notice heads turn in our direction. People are staring now and I’m starting to feel self-conscious about our confrontation. I glare at him before rising from the table. “The next time you come for her, I’m slapping the taste out your mouth with the first thing I get my hands on.”
Jacoby smiles a little. He knows I’m dead serious.
Once Deidra and I are in the car, I still need to vent. I can’t drive with all this pent-up, volatile energy. I push the gear to park and turn the ignition off. “Did you have to go there with him?” I ask. “Do you really think it was appropriate to say all that shit?”
“Yes, I did. He needs to shut up or be shut down.”
“It’s Jacoby! He has a big mouth. But you didn’t have to disrespect me, too.”
Deidra unbuckles her seatbelt and shoots me a piercing stare. “I respect you,” she yells, pointing in my face. “I respect that you’re a grown-ass woman with the competency and liberty to make your own decisions. I don’t question your desires. I recognize you’re the captain of your ship. But Jacoby treats you like a fucking deckhand and he treats me like a filthy pirate! And he believes he’s standing at the bow with a gold compass. Just like a man to think he’s running some shit— especially when he’s given a primetime seat in the lives of two lesbians. I’ve been putting up with his shit for too long. You’ve waited until tonight to finally revolt and push his bitch ass overboard. I’m glad you’re finally putting his pompous ass in his place because I’m tired of doing it for you. But, don’t get in this car acting like you’ve done something. You don’t get a metal for being too— damn— late.”
The Dawn of Nia Page 19
