“What’s wrong, thickums?”
“Who in the heck is thickums?”
Malcolm was so high, he had to lean against the wall in the kitchen to keep his balance. His speech was slurred. “Aw, boo, it’s all good. I like my women cute in the face and fat in the waist.”
I was about ready to grab a butcher knife and cut him. It dawned on me that he was holding a paper bag full of chips and all types of candy.
“What is all of that, Malcolm?”
He put the bag on the table. “Brotha got the munchies, boo.”
“That’s ’cause you’re full of weed. Don’t you know you gotta take a drop Tuesday?”
“What’s a drop?”
“A pee test, fool. Did you forget you have an interview with Audelia? You know you gotta be clean, Malcolm.”
Malcolm scratched his bald head and looked toward the ceiling like he was tryin’ to figure something out. “Aw, man. I forgot about that.” He looked at me. “I messed up, didn’t I?”
I was so disappointed in him. “Get outta my face, Malcolm.”
By my expression, he knew I was serious. Without another word, he went into my bedroom and fell across the bed. Malcolm was sawing logs in less than thirty seconds.
I decided to get out of the house for a while and go to the grocery store for the frappé and ginger ale. I threw on a white tank top and denim shorts. I slipped into my Gucci denim slides, which three months ago I chose to sacrifice my cable and electric bills for. I grabbed the matching denim purse and my keys and walked out the front door. I couldn’t get to my car because Malcolm’s Navigator was blocking my one-car garage. I searched my key ring to make sure I had my set of keys to the truck. I’d never driven anything that big, and just backing it out of the driveway looked to be challenging. I unlocked the door with the keyless entry remote and climbed in.
“Hello, Malcolm. Welcome to paradise.”
I heard what the truck said, but then again I didn’t hear it, because my nose was on alert. Perfume lingered in the air. I recognized the scent, because while Lerlean and I were out shopping yesterday, Filene’s Basement had advertised the same scented perfume, called Shi. We both loved it, and I’d told my mother I’d get us both a bottle with my next paycheck.
I sat there, pissed at the thought of Malcolm having a broad in the truck that I had bought him. I had made it perfectly clear to him the day I bought the truck that no other chick was to sit her rump in it. I would deal with him when I returned from the grocery store. If I woke him up now, he probably wouldn’t even know who I was.
I started the ignition and put the truck in reverse to back out of the driveway. My plan was to go to the grocery store to get the ginger ale and rainbow sherbet, since I had nothing else to do. As I looked over my right shoulder and backed the Navigator out of my driveway, something on the floor in front of the passenger seat caught my attention in my peripheral vision. I pressed down on the brakes and put the truck in park, then leaned over to see what it was. A pink chiffon scarf was almost hidden beneath the seat. I picked it up and sniffed it. Shi flowed through my nostrils.
I slapped Malcolm’s face as hard as I could. “Wake up!”
Malcolm quickly opened his eyes and raised his head. He brought his hand to his face to ease the stinging pain. “Wha, wha, what happened? Who hit me?”
“I did.”
He looked up at me, and I could tell he saw four of me. He rubbed his eyes and his cheek. “What you do that for?”
I threw the scarf in his face. “Whose is this?”
He studied the scarf for a moment. “It’s yours, ain’t it?”
I wanted to knock Malcolm’s teeth out. He was trying to play me for a fool. That pissed me off more than anything. “Would I be asking you whose scarf it was if it was mine?”
“Rhapsody, I don’t know what you’re hollering about.”
I snatched the scarf out of his hand and held it an inch away from his eyes and nose. “Do you see this scarf, Malcolm?”
He moved my hand away, and I brought it back to where it was. “Do you see this scarf?” I asked him again.
“Yeah, I see it.”
“Can you smell it?”
He didn’t answer, and I shoved the scarf against his nose. “Can you smell it?”
Malcolm pushed my hand away again. “Yeah, I smell it. So what?”
“Well, then, don’t say you don’t know what I’m hollerin’ about. I’m hollerin’ about this pink scarf with the perfume on it, which I found on the floor of your truck. I wanna know whom it belongs to. You got heifers riding around in the truck that I pay for?”
“Nah. It’s probably my mother’s scarf,” he said.
“Your mother’s?”
“Yeah. You know I take her to therapy and everywhere else she has to go. She probably dropped it.”
I knew Malcolm was lying to me, but I couldn’t call him on it right then. I stood and gave him a look to let him know I didn’t believe his weak story. “Look, Malcolm, I’m the wrong one to cross, okay? Let me remind you of somethin’ one last time. I want you to listen and pay very close attention to every word that’s comin’ out of my mouth, because I won’t repeat myself. I’m paying the note on that truck. That means it belongs to me. The only other woman who is allowed to ride in it is your mother. If I catch another broad in it or within five feet of it, it won’t end well for you. I promise you that I am not playing with you. Now, you can mess around and let what I’m saying go in one ear and out the other if you want to. If you’re smart, you’ll grow eyes in the back of your head, because you never know when or where I’ll roll up on you. And if I see some crazy crap, I . . . will . . . kill . . . you.” I spaced out the last four words to let each one sink deep down into Malcolm’s brain.
He didn’t utter a word; he just lay there and stared at me like I had lost my mind. And he would be right, ’cause at that very moment my mind was totally gone. I really hoped that I had put the fear of God in Malcolm, ’cause it would literally take an act of God to save him if I caught him cheating on me.
I turned away from him and left the bedroom. I didn’t wanna hear anything Malcolm had to say, because it wasn’t important. I went into the bathroom and got a pair of small scissors from the medicine cabinet and cut the scarf up. I threw the fragments in the garbage can on the side of my house. I didn’t believe that it was Malcolm’s mother’s scarf, nor did I care. If it was his mother’s, then, oops, my bad. She would just have to buy herself another one.
At the grocery store, I was standing in the frozen dessert aisle and trying to locate rainbow sherbet when a man came and stood next to me.
“Excuse me. Can I ask your opinion on somethin’?” he asked.
I didn’t wanna be bothered with no one. I just wanted to get what I had come for and leave. But Anastasia had made me promise her that I would stop being cruel to the whole world when I was mad at one person.
“Sure,” I said.
“My wife sent me here to get vanilla ice cream. Which brand do you think is best?”
“In my opinion, Baldwin is the best.”
“She told me to get Breyers,” he said.
I snapped, “Well, what are you askin’ my opinion for? If your wife told you what to buy, then get what she said. Darn, why do you men always gotta be so stupid?”
I found what I was looking for. I opened the glass freezer door, grabbed a container of rainbow sherbet, and walked away. I left that fool standing with his mouth agape.
I swear, the older I got, the less tolerance I had for stupid folks. There were times when I really didn’t understand the male species. A whole lot of marriages would last a lot longer if the husbands just did whatever their wives told them to do. Bringing home a different brand of ice cream, one other than what the man’s wife had sent him to the grocery store to get, should give her license to put both her feet dead in his behind.
In a different aisle, I found a two-liter bottle of ginger ale. I paid my bill and walked out
of the grocery store. That was when I met up with another ignorant fool, who was walking in my direction.
“Hello,” he said to me.
OMG! Why can’t these idiots just leave me alone? “Hi,” I said dryly. I kept walking, without giving him any eye contact. My mother had taught me years ago that if I wasn’t interested in a man, I should never make eye contact with him, because he would misinterpret it to mean that I wanted to engage in conversation.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“I didn’t ask how you looked. I asked how you were doin’.”
His sorry behind couldn’t do any better than that? That grammar school pickup line was played out.
I stopped walking and looked at him. “Look, I’m really not in the best of moods today, okay? I would really appreciate you backing off of me.” I started walking again, and he followed.
“I don’t wanna upset you,” he said. “I just wanna talk. Can I carry your bags?”
“It’s only one bag, and I can handle it.” I had forgotten which aisle I had parked the Navigator in, so I had to activate the remote to set off the alarm. When I heard the siren, I started walking in that direction.
“Can I ask your name?”
The idiot was on my heels; he had followed me all the way to the truck. My temper was at level eight and rising by the second. I didn’t wanna have to snap on him, but I had already told the fool he couldn’t get any play. But he was irritating the heck outta me in the ninety-plus degree weather. Obviously, he was too dumb to know what no meant. He didn’t even have to say another word to me, because just knowing he wasn’t letting up caused my temper to rise two more digits.
I turned to face him and allowed my neck to dance, as though I was twirling a hula hoop on it. “No, you can’t ask for my name or my telephone number. But I’ll tell you what you can do. You can get outta my face, because I’m done talkin’ to you.”
Right then I knew I had to repent for the words that had come out of my mouth. I knew God was ashamed of me. But dealing with Malcolm’s cheating behind, fighting Sharonda, Malcolm coming home high as heck, and finding the pink scarf had caused the ugly side of me to make an appearance.
The man I had just cussed out stood next to the truck, with a look on his face like he couldn’t believe what I had said to him. I unlocked the driver-side door and threw the ginger ale and sherbet on the passenger seat. I climbed in, slammed the door shut, and started the engine.
“Hello, Malcolm. Welcome to paradise.”
“Oh, shut the heck up!” I put the truck in reverse and darn near ran over the man’s feet as I sped out of the grocery store parking lot.
Malcolm didn’t get his butt up until ten o’clock that night. I was in the den, lying across the futon, when he appeared in the doorway.
“What’s for dinner?” he asked while scratching his bald head. The wife beater and shorts he’d slept in were wrinkled. He looked like he stank.
There was a rump roast, potatoes, and homemade macaroni and cheese on top of the stove, but I was still mad, so I didn’t tell him. I kept my attention on the news.
“Rhapsody, what do you got to eat?”
I looked up at him. “Why don’t you go into the kitchen and see?” I said with much attitude.
“What’s your problem? What you got your lips poked out for?”
I exhaled. I had already repented for my actions and words from earlier in the day. I didn’t wanna have to go to God a second time and beg Him to forgive me for allowing the devil to overtake me. “It’s you, Malcolm,” I said to him. “You’re the problem. You’re the reason my lips are poked out.”
“Well, maybe if you weren’t pissed off all the time about nothing, we could have somethin’ good.”
My eyes bucked out of my head, and I felt my temperature rise. Shoot him. Stab him now. Suffocate him in his sleep. Put rat poison in his mac and cheese. Kill him now.
I rose from the futon, walked past Malcolm, went into my bedroom, and locked the door behind me. I fell on my knees and prayed for strength. I needed God to keep me from doing what the enemy had just told me to do, because I wanted to do all those things.
Chapter 27
I woke up early Monday with a queasy feeling in my belly. I jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom. I was able to lift the toilet seat just in time. Everything I had eaten yesterday came up. I felt Malcolm’s open palm caress my lower back as he knelt next to me.
“You a’ight, boo?”
I wanted to answer him but couldn’t, because I was about to throw up again. When my face went down in the toilet, Malcolm ran his hand softly across my shoulders. I emptied my stomach a second time and sat on the floor and let my head fall back against the sink. I was panting.
“What’s the matter?”
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “I don’t know. I felt this way yesterday too.”
“Can I get you anything?”
I pointed upward. “The Pepto-Bismol from the medicine cabinet.”
Malcolm gave me the pink bottle, and I brought it my mouth, turned it up, and swallowed two big gulps. I told him I wanted to brush my teeth, and he loaded my toothbrush with toothpaste and gave it to me.
“What time is it?” I asked him.
“A little after five thirty. You wanna go to the emergency room?”
“No. I’ll be all right.”
We went back to bed. Malcolm snuggled up and held me in a spoon position. We had spent our last night together. His mother would be home later today. Just the day before I was ready to send Malcolm back to his mother, but lying in his arms right then comforted me. I pressed the back of my head against his hairy chest, exhaled, and melted in his arms one last time.
I woke up again when the sun was up to Malcolm staring down at me.
I frowned and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“You tell me. You were tossing and turning since five thirty this mornin’.”
The next thing I knew, I was running to the toilet again. After I threw up, I sat against the sink again, panting like I was dying of thirst.
“Rhapsody, you need to go to the hospital.”
I shook my head from side to side. “No, Malcolm. It’s probably just a virus.”
“So, what are you gonna do? Sit here on the bathroom floor all day?”
“I’ll be all right,” I assured him. “Just give me a minute.”
“I really wish you would get checked out.”
“I’m scheduled for annual examination tomorrow morning. I’ll let my doctor know what’s going on.”
“You want something to eat?”
My belly did a somersault. I frowned at him and shook my head from side to side. “The thought of food makes my stomach turn.”
Minutes later I was relaxing in my tub with the Jacuzzi jets beating against my muscles. Malcolm brought a glass of orange juice to me.
“Drink this.”
I took a sip and thanked him. He sighed and leaned down next to the tub.
“My mother will be home this evening.”
A huge sigh escaped my lips. “I know.”
“You know I gotta be there, don’t you?”
I turned my head away from him to stare at the tiles on the wall. With his first two fingers, Malcolm softly brought my face back to him. Tears flooded my eyes, and when I blinked, they fell onto my cheeks. I had gotten used to going to bed and waking up with Malcolm at my side. We were so close, and I felt like I was losing my best friend.
He leaned over to me and kissed my closed eyelids. “Aw, boo, it’s gonna be okay. We’ll get another chance to play house again.”
I didn’t know where Malcolm got the strength. He was much stronger than I thought he was when he picked me up out of the tub, dripping wet, and carried me to my bed. Hours later the telephone woke me up. It was Anastasia, and she was hollering.
“Rhapsody, it’s two o’clock. Where’s my darn frappé?”
I glanced at the cl
ock on my nightstand. “Oh, my goodness,” I said. I hopped out of bed with the telephone still pressed against my ear. “I’m so sorry, Stacy. We’re on our way.” I disconnected the call, threw the telephone on the bed, and shook Malcolm’s shoulder. “Malcolm, get up. We’re late for the barbecue.”
We quickly showered and dressed. I grabbed the sherbet from my freezer and the ginger ale from the refrigerator. Malcolm and I were out the door in less than thirty minutes.
Not only were Anastasia and Trevor hosting a July Fourth barbecue, but according to the number of cars parked on their street, all their neighbors were hosting barbecues as well. Malcolm and I had to park a block and a half away from the Anastasia and Trevor’s house.
We got to the door and rang the bell. As soon as Trevor answered, he grabbed me and hugged me tight. But before I had a chance to introduce Malcolm, Trevor embarrassed me.
“Hey, dude, if you’re lookin’ for Ray Jr.,” he said to Malcolm, “he lives next door.”
I wanted to lie down and die right there on the front porch. Never in my thirty-four years of living on earth had I been so uncomfortable. For Trevor to assume that Malcolm wasn’t my date and had chosen the wrong house proved to me that I must’ve looked way older than Malcolm.
After I wiped the egg from my face and composed myself, I said, “Um, Trevor, this is my friend Malcolm.”
Trevor looked as bad as I felt. “Aw, man, dude,” he said to Malcolm. “My bad.”
I stepped into the foyer, and Malcolm followed. Once inside he shook Trevor’s hand. “What’s up, man?”
“It’s all good, dude. Y’all come on in. The food is ready, and everybody’s outside in the back.”
We followed Trevor through the living room and dining room to the patio doors in the kitchen that opened to the deck. On the way, I looked over my shoulder and whispered to Malcolm, “Sorry about that.”
He smiled slightly, then put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze to let me know he wasn’t fazed. When we got to the kitchen, Trevor took the ginger ale and rainbow sherbet from me and placed them both in the freezer. When I slid the patio door open, the smell of burning charcoal filled my lungs. The first thing I saw was Anastasia sitting at a picnic table, bouncing Chantal on her knee.
The Ugly Side of Me Page 17
