“Oh, my God. You know what, Rhapsody? I’m starting to believe that there’s no hope for you. What about knitting or crocheting? You can’t get into trouble with that, can you?”
“I sure can. Having access to that much yarn or rope will make me tie a man up and take it from him.”
She was fed up with me. “Okay. Do whatever you wanna do. I tried. Where are you headed?”
“Home. I hate Mondays. Today was the day from hell. If I never see another train or bus, it would be too soon.”
“I caught the tail end of the news, but I couldn’t quite make out what happened.”
“Right at the start of rush hour this evening, some woman decided to jump in front of an oncoming train at the State and Randolph station. We had to shut the power off on the entire red line. So my boss made me work overtime, rerouting passengers. Needless to say, I didn’t have a good evening.”
“It’s a shame when folks commit suicide like that.”
“I don’t have a problem with people committing suicide. I get upset when they do it on my dime and time. If you wanna knock yourself off, don’t inconvenience half the darn city. Do it the normal way. Just close all the windows in your house, turn the gas on in the kitchen, then sit at the table and wait for your neighbor to find you.”
Anastasia laughed. “Girl, you’re stupid. There’s nothing normal about committing suicide.”
“That ain’t true, Stacy. It depends on what you’re going through. Like in my situation, if I don’t get any nooky in the next twenty-four hours, ain’t no telling what I might do.”
“Rhapsody, please, you ain’t that crazy. Being celibate does not make you wanna kill yourself.”
“Yeah, okay. Today is Monday, and if I don’t get any nooky by this time tomorrow, don’t be surprised when you find me on my kitchen floor, lying next to the stove.”
Anastasia was done with me. “Bye, heifer,” she said and disconnected the call.
Immediately my telephone rang. I saw my folks’ home telephone number displayed on the caller ID.
“Hey, Mama.” I knew it was her. My father never called my cell.
“Hi. I saw the news. Rough evening?”
I exhaled a loud sigh. “Yes, ma’am. Not only did a person commit suicide, but I witnessed a young train operator lose her job too. She had alcohol in her system and not enough years on the job to stay employed.”
“My Lord,” Lerlean said. “That’s terrible. Did you pray for her and the person who committed suicide?”
I frowned. “Huh?”
“Did you pray for them? A tragedy happened, Rhapsody.”
“Mama, no amount of praying was gonna put the maimed woman’s body back together, and no amount of praying would have saved the train operator’s job. It is what it is.”
I appreciated the fact that my mother was a praying woman, but there were times when she worked my nerves. In Lerlean’s world everything—every event and every occasion—was a reason to pray. If it rained too hard, she’d pray for the Lord to take the rain away. If it didn’t rain at all, Lerlean could be found on her knees, praying for God to bring the wet stuff. If she wasn’t trying to drag me to church, then she was trying to make me pray about something.
Like my folks, I was a member of World Deliverance Christian Center and had been all my life. I was baptized by Bishop Thomas Arthur Clark, Jr. When he retired from the pulpit, his son with the same name took over the church. We called the young bishop by the nickname Art. Art was the same age as me, and he could surely bring forth a good word, but whenever he preached, it seemed that he was speaking directly to me. And he always made eye contact with me, like he knew my dirty secrets. Somehow Art always knew when I had lain with a man, ’cause the Sunday after I had committed the sin, he’d preach about fornication and forgiveness. It never failed.
I considered myself a born-again Christian. I believed in God. I believed that He died on a cross for my sins, and I believed that on the third day, Jesus rose from the grave and ascended to heaven. I was baptized when I was five years old. Couldn’t nobody tell me that I wasn’t saved. But I hated when folks tried to force religion on me. I prayed when I wanted to pray.
What could I say? I loved sex. I loved how it made me feel. Sex was the one sin that easily beset me. I knew I needed to sit under Bishop Art and his wife, First Lady Felicia, because I knew my deliverance would come, but I didn’t wanna be delivered from sex. I did, however, mail my tithes and offerings to the church faithfully. Now, that was the one thing I didn’t play with. I always gave God His money, because I realized that it was because of Him that I was alive and healthy. I should’ve been dead a long time ago. But God kept me, and for that, I was thankful.
“I know a tragedy happened, Mama. But what could I have done?”
“Prayer changes thangs, is all I’m sayin’.”
“No one knows that better than me,” I sighed. I was ready to end the conversation.
“You should come to Bible study with me tonight. Bishop Art is teaching a series on knowing your strength in God.”
“Not tonight, Mama. I’m tired. It’s been a long day, and I just wanna go home, shower, and get into bed.” There was no way I was gonna be honest with Lerlean and tell her that I was expecting company in my bed in a few hours.
“Rhapsody, you always have an excuse why you can’t come to church. Whether it’s to Bible study or Sunday morning service, you can never make it.”
She was right.
“I know, Mama. I’m always so busy.”
“Too busy to worship the Lord? What if God was too busy to tend to your needs?”
“That’s why I send my tithes, Mama. I pay God to take good care of me.”
I could tell I had pissed her off when she yelled out, “God don’t need your money! He is money. He’s air, He’s light, and He’s the sun, moon, and stars. He ain’t God because you’re paying Him to be. He’s God because He’s God. God’s got His hand on you because He wants it on you.”
Again, she was right. I lived a great life. God had blessed me with a wonderful job. My health and strength were good. I really had no real excuse for why I couldn’t attend church. “Okay, Mama. I promise to go to church, but not tonight.” There was no way I was gonna give up the opportunity to have my legs suspended in the air. “I’ll meet you at church on Sunday morning.”
“I’ve heard that lie before.”
After what Malcolm and I were getting ready to do, I was for sure gonna go to church and get myself forgiven. “I’ll be there, I promise.”
Just after nine thirty that evening, I was lying across my bed, watching the news, when a commercial announced that the most delicious hamburgers in the Windy City could be found at Burger World. Immediately, I thought of Malcolm and wondered what he was doing at that moment. I wanted to call him but thought it would make me seem desperate. In all actuality I was desperate, but Malcolm didn’t need to know that.
I turned onto my side and clutched my pillow. I was picturing his dark green eyes when the telephone on my nightstand rang. I wasted no time answering it on the first ring. I hoped that it was Malcolm calling to say that he was on his way to my house.
“Hello?”
It was Anastasia. “Hey, it’s me.”
I gave a sigh of frustration into the telephone. “Oh, what’s up?”
She knew me well, and she also knew it wasn’t her voice I wanted to hear. “Well, heck, I love you too.”
“I’m sorry, Stacy. It’s been a long day. I was almost asleep,” I lied.
“Is that all it is, or were you expecting a certain young man with the smell of Similac with iron on his breath to call?”
“Who are you talkin’ about?”
“Don’t play with me, Rhapsody. You know who I’m talkin’ about.”
“I ain’t thinkin’ about that boy.”
“I’m glad to hear that, because that’s exactly what he is, a boy. It won’t work, girlfriend.”
“What won’t work, St
acy?”
“Whatever it is you’re daydreaming about doing with him. He’s way out of your league, and you two are not on the same level. Don’t start anything with him that you can’t finish.”
“Look, Stacy, I haven’t given Malcolm another thought since I saw him. I doubt if he’ll even call.”
“But what if he does?” she asked.
“Then I’ll tell him I was only flirting and didn’t mean anything by it.” I lied to Anastasia just to get her off the line. Yes, I had flirted with Malcolm, and I had meant every word that I said to him.
“Yeah, okay,” Stacy said. I knew she didn’t believe me.
“I’ll talk to you in the morning,” I said and disconnected the call.
Fifteen minutes later, I answered my front door, wearing a short red lace teddy with thin spaghetti straps supporting my heavy double D breasts. Malcolm stood in the doorway in awe of me. He was lookin’ good. With that bulge in his pants, he couldn’t hide the fact that he was excited to see me too.
“Can I help you?” I asked seductively.
He smiled. “You called me.”
Yeah, I had. I was weak. I had called Malcolm to confirm that he was still going to pay me a visit that night. I couldn’t hide the fact, not even to myself, that I was desperate. “Come on in, and I hope you brought your appetite with you. I have strawberries and whipped cream in the refrigerator.”
“I’m not a strawberry type of guy.” He scanned my body, slightly pausing when his gaze reached the area beneath my belly. “I do like cherries, though,” Malcolm said seductively.
I looked at him and smiled. “Well, in that case, let’s skip the appetizer and get right to the main course.”
Malcolm stepped into the foyer and pulled my torso to his. He could feel my cleavage pressing into his chest. “What’s on the menu?”
I ran my tongue along his entire mustache from left to right before answering him. “My cherry.”
A dose of young blood was exactly what I needed. Malcolm gave me what I wanted, how I wanted it, and where I wanted it. He whispered words in my ear I had never heard before. Young Malcolm rocked my thirty-four-year-old world as he turned me every which way but loose. He kissed, he licked, he massaged, and he caressed my entire body before turning me out, all the way out. We did everything but swing from the ceiling fan. I appreciated the fact that every ten minutes, Malcolm asked how I felt or if I liked what he was doing to me. My answer was a continuous yes. He even asked what my pleasure was, and before I could finish describing my fantasy, Malcolm was already mastering it.
I did my best to last with him, but eventually, I begged Malcolm to stop. My thighs were so sore that I could only pray that I’d be able to walk in the morning. Malcolm and I lay spent in the middle of my king-size bed with only sweat between us. I hoped and prayed that God would forgive me for what I had just done.
“That was good, Malcolm,” I moaned.
He chuckled. “I aim to please.”
“I hope we can do this again.”
“We can definitely do it again.”
I was lying on Malcolm’s chest, drifting off to sleep, when he gently eased out from under me and sat up on the bed.
“You’re not leaving, are you?”
“I have to open up the restaurant in the morning,” he answered as he reached toward the floor for his pants.
I purred like a kitten. “Do you have to go right now?”
Malcolm leaned over to me and kissed my lips lightly. “Yeah, I gotta get home and get some sleep.”
He walked into my master bathroom and started the water in the shower. Malcolm had told me he lived with his mother, and so I wondered why he felt the need to shower if he was going home and straight to bed.
Chapter 4
On Tuesday morning, while I was driving to work, my cellular telephone rang. I saw that it was Anastasia calling.
“Good morning,” I sang.
“My, my, my. Aren’t we bright-eyed and bushy tailed this morning? I take it that you had a good night’s sleep.”
“Well, I had a good night, that’s for sure. Actually, the word good is putting it mildly. There wasn’t much sleeping going on, though.”
“Tell me you didn’t, Rhapsody.”
I giggled. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
“Don’t play with me. You called that boy, didn’t you?”
“First of all, Stacy, his name is Malcolm, and he’s a grown man.”
“Barely,” Anastasia stated sarcastically.
“So what?” I shot back at her. “Grown is grown, and the answer to your question is yes. I was on fire, and Malcolm came to extinguish me. And I’ll tell you something else. His body should have a note from the surgeon general attached to it that reads, ‘Warning. One stroke of this will be hazardous to your health.’”
Anastasia didn’t find that humorous at all. “Humph. So what happens now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Where do things stand with you and this boy?”
I exhaled loudly. She was pissing me off big-time with this “boy” crap. “Stacy, do you think it’s possible for you to refer to him as Malcolm?”
“I’ll do my best. Are you and Malcolm an item now? Are you gonna see him again?”
“Dang, Stacy. What’s up with the third degree?”
“I just have one more question for you, Rhapsody.”
I rolled my eyes at no one in particular. “What?”
“What’s Malcolm’s last name?”
“Look, Stacy, I don’t know. Finding out Malcolm’s last name, birthday, and Social Security number wasn’t a priority for me last night. I just wanted to get done. Okay?”
“That’s a shame.”
“Whatever. I gotta go, ’cause I’m on my way to work to earn some money. Not every woman has the luxury of being a devoted housewife like you.”
I disconnected the line and tossed my cellular telephone on the passenger seat. To heck with what Anastasia was preaching about. Every single night she lay on a huge, hairy chest, so of course, it was easy for her to tell me what I should and shouldn’t be doing. Now, a single woman with the same issue as me might have something to say that was worth listening to, but Anastasia, on the other hand, needed to mind her own freakin’ business and keep her darn mouth shut.
Traffic was moving nicely, and I saw that I had ten minutes to spare, so I decided to pay Malcolm a morning-after visit at Burger World. I got to the drive-through menu board, all set to hear his voice, but I heard a female’s voice over the intercom instead. I placed an order for a ham and cheese biscuit and a small coffee with cream and sugar, then drove around to the pickup window. I handed over the money and looked at the cashier.
“Is Malcolm here?” I asked.
“No. He’s off today.”
What? “Oh, really? Did he call in sick?”
“No. It’s his regular day off.”
I went over in my mind what Malcolm had said to me at two in the morning. I have to open the restaurant in the morning. I gotta get home and get some sleep.
Without waiting for my meal, I sped away from the window and drove to a parking spot. I quickly placed the car in park and called Malcolm’s cellular telephone number, the only number he had given me. My call was immediately sent to his voice mail.
“Yo, what’s up? This is Malcolm. Leave a message, and I’ll holla back. Peace.”
The beep couldn’t come fast enough before I turned up. “Malcolm, this is Rhapsody. Remember me? I’m the one you screwed for three hours last night. Guess where I am right now. I’m at Burger World, and I just found out that you’re scheduled to be off today. Let me tell you something. You ain’t gotta lie to me, okay? As far as I’m concerned, last night was just a one-time thang. You don’t owe me squat, and I don’t owe you squat. So, you can just lose my number, you trifling jerk.”
I was mad as hell. Malcolm had lied to me. The night before we had kinda made plans to see each other again. We
had been all hugged up and twisted in each other’s arms like a pretzel. I didn’t feel like what we had done was a one-night stand. Malcolm had kissed my forehead and the rest of my face softly. It had felt like we were making love and not just having meaningless sex. I thought I had meant something to Malcolm, so I didn’t understand why he had lied.
I got back on the Eisenhower Expressway and headed toward the Loop. My heart was beating out of my chest, and I felt a spell coming on. I couldn’t control the tics. I tried not to, but I threw the back of my head into my headrest three times. My eyes connected with those of the woman driving on my right side, going at the same speed as me. She saw me and looked at me like I was insane. I sped up to get away from her gaze, but she caught up with me. I suppressed the bad words that were forthcoming. I shook my head vigorously from side to side. I wanted to shake the bad words away.
Please, God, not now, I silently prayed. I needed the Lord to stop what was getting ready to escape from my throat. Please keep it inside, Jesus. I looked at the woman as we drove side by side on the expressway. She kept watching me. Tears had begun to fill my lower eyelids, because I couldn’t control my reaction. “Slut, whore, butthole lips!”
My passenger-side window was down, and so was the woman’s driver-side window, so she heard my words. She frowned at me, shook her head, then sped up to get away from me. I wanted to catch up to her and apologize, like I had done to hundreds of people during my lifetime when I had exploded in anger, but I didn’t bother chasing the woman. I just cried all the way to work.
Chapter 5
Lucille Ella-Jean Washington was a sixty-four-year-old paraplegic, a result of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Two years and four months ago, she was standing in the parking lot of the Jewel food store on Ninety-Fifth Street and South Ashland Avenue in Chicago, unloading groceries from a shopping cart and placing them into the trunk of her car, when gunshots pierced the air. Before Lucille had a chance to run for cover, a bullet struck her lower back, paralyzing her from the waist down and confining her to a wheelchair for the rest of her life. She was the second person to become a victim of a gang cross fire in the same month and in the same parking lot.
The Ugly Side of Me Page 3
