The Ugly Side of Me

by Nikita Lynnette Nichols

  “Yes, it’s the same friend. Now, if y’all are done interrogating me, can we go in the house?”

  Cherise and Sean carried Lucille’s luggage to the front door and kissed her good-bye.

  “Bye, Mama,” Cherise said.

  “Bye, baby.”

  Cherise and Sean turned and headed back down the driveway, but Malcolm stopped Cherise before she got to the truck. “Hey, Cherise. You’re on vacation this week, right?”

  “Yep,” she said happily.

  “Can you take Mama to therapy in the morning?”

  Before Cherise answered, Lucille spoke. “Why can’t you take me?”

  “Because I got a job interview in the morning.”

  “An interview where?” Cherise asked.

  “Downtown, in the Loop. It’s with the CTA.”

  “That’s good, Malcolm,” Cherise said. “The CTA pays top dollar. Okay, yeah, I’ll take Mama to therapy in the mornin’.”

  The entire house reeked when Malcolm and Lucille entered.

  “Whew. What the heck is that smell?” Lucille asked as soon as Malcolm wheeled her into the foyer.

  “It’s probably the garbage.”

  “Why didn’t you take it out, Malcolm?”

  “Ma, I ain’t been home in a week.”

  “Well, take it out and open up some windows. Wash that can with pine oil before you put another plastic bag in it.”

  Malcolm wheeled his mother into her bedroom, set her luggage on top of the bed, and went to empty the garbage. When he returned, he saw Lucille unpacking her clothes. He plopped down on her bed.

  “So, how was your trip?”

  Lucille took blouses and Capri pants from the luggage and laid them on the bed. “I had a good time, Malcolm. Everyone asked about you. It’s not every year that the Washingtons gather for a family reunion, but your great uncle, Jesse, is the oldest living uncle. You really should have gone to see him. His health isn’t good. He’s battling rheumatoid arthritis, he has osteoporosis, and he’s in the early stages of dementia.”

  Malcolm nodded his head. “Yeah, I should’ve gone with you, Cherise, and Sean.” When Lucille had told Malcolm that she was going to Memphis with Cherise and Sean, Malcolm had seen this as an opportunity to escape his curfew and had decided to spend the week with Rhapsody. “I remember when Cherise and I were little, you’d send us to Memphis for the whole summer. As soon as school let out, Cherise and I were on the Amtrak train, heading south. Uncle Jesse was always there to pick us up from the train station. He’d come with a bag full of candy too.” Malcolm smiled at the thought. “Those were the good ole days.”

  Lucille wheeled herself to the dresser and pulled out the top drawer. In it she deposited nightgowns that she hadn’t worn on her trip. “Well, maybe you’ll get a chance to get to Memphis before Uncle Jesse slips further into the dementia, Malcolm. I know he’ll be glad to see you.”

  “Yeah, I definitely gotta make that happen.”

  “So, where have you been for the past week?”

  “I stayed at Rhapsody’s house.”

  Lucille wheeled herself back to the suitcase on her bed and removed lotion and perfume bottles. She wheeled herself back over to the dresser and sat them on top. “Tell me about Rhapsody.”

  She’s crazy, Malcolm thought to himself. “What do you wanna know?”

  “Where does she live? Where does she work? And why haven’t I met her?”

  “Rhapsody works for the CTA, directing traffic. She owns a duplex in Oakbrook Terrace and—”

  “Oakbrook Terrace?” Lucille shrieked. “She’s got money like that?”

  “She’s single, with no kids, and she makes a nice penny.”

  “Humph. I guess she does if she can afford to live in Oakbrook Terrace and to buy that big truck she got you. What is she driving?” Lucille said.

  “Rhapsody drives a Benz.”

  “My, my, my,” Lucille said. She looked at Malcolm, who was lying across her bed. “Do you love her?”

  He frowned. “Who?”

  “Who are we talkin’ about, Malcolm? Rhapsody. Do you love her?”

  “I like her.”

  “Humph,” Lucille said again. “Does she love you?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, why are y’all wasting each other’s time? The sole purpose for two people getting together is to build a future with one another.”

  “Ma, our relationship is not a normal relationship. Rhapsody and I understand each other, and we have an agreement.”

  “Which is what, Malcolm?”

  “We’re friends, and that’s all we are.”

  Lucille exhaled. “Can we get deep here?”

  Malcolm rolled his eyes. “Here we go.” He knew that when Lucille asked to get deep in a conversation, it usually meant it was lecture time. But that was one thing Malcolm loved about his mother; she always told it straight and never sugarcoated anything.

  “Can we get deep or not, Malcolm?”

  “Yeah, Ma. Go ahead.” Malcolm grabbed one of Lucille’s pillows and propped it up to support his head.

  Lucille rolled her wheelchair closer to the bed. “When am I gonna meet Rhapsody?”

  Malcolm shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.” After that day’s episode, Malcolm felt that there wasn’t a need for them to meet. Once he returned the truck to Rhapsody, he would wash his hands of her.

  “Malcolm, listen to me,” Lucille said. “When a woman buys an extremely expensive gift for a man within days of meeting him, it usually means she’s fallen head over heels for him and considers him to be more than a friend. Friends don’t get automobiles. They may get jewelry or clothes, but not something that equals the value of ten years’ worth of mortgage payments. Let me ask you a question,” Lucille said. “What would happen to your truck if you decided to end your ‘friendship’ with Rhapsody?” Lucille made quotation marks with her fingers.

  “It would go back to her,” Malcolm said calmly. He was more than willing to do it.

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  “Yeah, Ma. I knew that before I accepted the truck from Rhapsody. I told you we understand each other.”

  “Well, let me ask you another question so that I’ll understand. As long as you’re screwin’ her, you can keep the truck. Is that right?”

  “Who says I’m screwin’ her?”

  “Boy, don’t play with me. My common sense does. I ain’t forgot about the scratches on your back. And no thirty-four-year-old woman buys a twenty-one-year-old man a truck that big and expensive unless he’s making her toes curl.”

  Malcolm hollered out and laughed. “What do you know about curling toes? You got a li’l freak in you, Lucy?”

  “How do you think your behind was created? I done had my toes curled a time or two,” Lucille said.

  Malcolm sat up. “Okay, this conversation is over. I don’t wanna hear about you gettin’ your freak on back in the day.”

  “Back in the day? Honey, your mama is still a freak this day.”

  He closed his eyes and covered his ears. “Oh, my God. No. Please tell me you’re joking.”

  Lucille laughed. “What is your problem? I’m still young and desirable. If this wheelchair could talk.”

  Malcolm hopped off the bed. “Who is he? What’s his name?” He demanded to know. “I’ma go find him and bust a cap in him. Who is he?”

  Lucille saw that Malcolm had taken her seriously and was really upset. “Boy, sit back down. I ain’t doing nothing but playing with you.”

  He sat down on the bed again. “Don’t do that, okay? Don’t play with me like that.”

  Lucille put her hand on her hip and looked at her son. “What if I was gettin’ my freak on, Malcolm? Ain’t nothing you can do about it.”

  Malcolm shook his head from side to side vigorously. “Uh-uh, you’re my mama, and you ain’t got no business doing that.”

  “I’ma ask the question again. How do you think you got here?”

&nbs
p; “I don’t care. That was twenty-one years ago.”

  “And?”

  “You ain’t supposed to be doing that kind of stuff.”

  Lucille decided to get him riled up again. “You mean like lying on my bed, moaning loud, and scratching a man’s back like Rhapsody scratched up yours?”

  Malcolm jumped up and ran out of her bedroom. “I can’t take this. I’m outta here.”

  Lucille laughed until her stomach ached and tears ran down her cheeks.

  Malcolm needed to get out of the house and away from his mother. He couldn’t handle the thought of her having sex. He really hoped that Lucille was pulling his chain, like she had done so many times before. Often the two of them joked and played around and got under one another’s collar. But his mother having sex was a topic of discussion that Malcolm refused to banter about.

  He jumped into his truck, drove away from the curb, and dialed Ivan’s cellular number.

  “What’s up, fool? I ain’t heard from you in a week. You still playin’ house?”

  “Nah, man, that’s been canceled,” Malcolm replied.

  “You sound like it was a bad experience.”

  “Ivan, do you remember the night we sat outside my house, talking, and you said Rhapsody could be a fatal attraction?”

  “Yeah. That was the night she busted your car window with a tire iron.”

  “You were right, man. She is crazy. Rhapsody is straight from the twilight zone.”

  “What did she do this time?”

  “Have you talked to Leticia since Saturday?”

  “Yeah. She told me what went down at the nail shop.”

  “Man, that was some wild crap,” Malcolm said. “But check this out. Today Rhapsody and I went to a barbecue at her partner in crime’s house. All week she knew that my mother was coming home this evening and that I needed to be home to help Sean get her in the house. So, around four o’clock this afternoon, I told Rhapsody it was time for us to leave the barbecue ’cause I had to take her back home, get my stuff, then go home and meet Mama. She goes off and says that she didn’t want me to leave and that she didn’t care what my responsibilities to my mother were.”

  “That’s bold,” Ivan said.

  “You ain’t heard the bold part yet. She had the gall to suggest that I put my mama in a senior citizens’ home.”

  “What?” Ivan shrieked.

  “Yeah, man, can you believe that? So, anyway, we rode back to her house in complete silence. When I reached for my duffel bag, she took it and threw it across the living room. But I didn’t trip. I just went to get the bag and reminded her I had to go home and meet my mother. You’ll never guess what she said to me next.”

  Ivan was on the other end of the telephone line, on the edge of his seat. “Tell me.”

  “She said, ‘Screw your mother!’”

  Ivan’s mouth fell open. “She said what?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I shouldn’t be surprised, ’cause that’s what she said to me the first time she saw me at Mr. G’s. Remember?”

  “Yeah, I do. She snatched my duffel bag out of my hand and sat on it to keep me from leaving. I told her that if I had to tell her again to give me my stuff, I was going to jail.”

  “What did she say when you told her that?”

  “She asked if I could screw her before I left.”

  “Man, you gotta be lying, Malcolm.”

  “Nope, I ain’t lying. That’s how crazy Rhapsody is. She was shaking and jerking and saying crazy stuff, man. She’s really loony.”

  “You ain’t telling me nothing I didn’t already know. I think she’s bipolar. Where are you?”

  “Man, I’m just out here, driving around. I had to get out of the house’cause Mama was talking a bunch of yin yang I didn’t wanna hear. You wanna go shoot some hoops?”

  “Nah, man. I’m on my way to Leticia’s house.”

  “A’ight then. I’ll holla,” Malcolm said.

  “Peace.”

  Malcolm ended the call with Ivan, then dialed Sharonda’s number.

  “I knew I would hear from you today,” she answered.

  Malcolm smiled. “Is that right?”

  “Uh-huh. What are you doing?”

  “Thinkin’ about you.”

  “Where are you?”

  Malcolm turned left at the next corner. “If you’re home right now, I could be en route to your house.”

  “For what?” she asked.

  “For whatever. Is it a problem?”

  “Nah, it ain’t a problem,” Sharonda said. “Did I leave my pink scarf in your truck?”

  “Yeah, and I almost got killed about that.”

  She laughed. “Aw, did your granny find it?” Sharonda mocked the age difference between Malcolm and Rhapsody.

  “Heck, yeah, she found it.”

  “What did she do with it?”

  “Let’s just say I’ma have to buy you another one.”

  “You let that broad cut up my scarf, didn’t you, Malcolm?”

  “I didn’t let Rhapsody do it. She just did it. And that was after I lied and said the scarf belonged to my mother.”

  “Malcolm, that scarf was a Donna Karan original, and it cost me eighty-six dollars.”

  “Sharonda, I promise to buy you another one when I get paid next week. Okay?”

  “No, it ain’t okay.”

  “Look, Sharonda, I was in a good mood, but you’re messin’ that up right now. I said I’ma buy you another scarf next week. What else do you want me to do?”

  “Let me beat you in a game of naked Twister,” she teased.

  “Where are your folks?”

  “They’re out and won’t be home for a while.”

  Malcolm pressed down on the gas pedal. “Set the game up. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Chapter 29

  By 9:00 p.m. I was a basket case. Malcolm had been gone for only five hours, but it felt more like five years. I lay across my bed, clutching the pillow he had slept on for the past seven nights against my chest. Every few minutes I’d sniff it to remind myself what he smelled like. I had vomited twice since I’d come from Anastasia’s house. The ground turkey she’d used to make the spaghetti was probably spoiled.

  I turned to lie on my back and stared up at the ceiling. I counted the lines of shadow up there from the glow of the streetlight peeking through my mini-blinds. I decided to call Malcolm. I needed to make things right between us. I wanted to let him know that I was wrong for the things I had said about his mother.

  I was reaching for the telephone on my nightstand when it rang. I got nervous for a second, wondering if it was Malcolm calling to tell me that what we had was over and that he would return the Navigator to me. The caller ID showed Trevor Baker, and I let out a small sigh of relief.

  “Hey, Stacy,” I answered.

  “Are you asleep?”

  “No, just lyin’ here in the bed, thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “Malcolm. He went back home.”

  “When he said good-bye to Trevor and me at the barbecue, he seemed a li’l upset.”

  That’s puttin’ it mildly, I thought.

  “Trevor told me what happened when he met y’all at the door . . . that he had mistaken Malcolm for one of our young neighbors’ friends. Is that what was bothering Malcolm?”

  “No, he was cool about that,” I said. “We had words when he told me he was ready to leave the barbecue.”

  “Well, why did he wanna leave?”

  “His mother had gone to Memphis for the holiday. She was due back this evening. Malcolm needed to be there to help his sister and brother-in-law get her into the house, but I wasn’t ready for him to go just yet, and I told him that.”

  “I don’t understand,” Anastasia said.

  “What don’t you understand?”

  “Last Friday you called me, all excited and giddy, and said that Malcolm was coming to play house with you ’cause his mother was going away f
or a week. You told me that he needed to be home when she returned to help get her into the house. So, what I don’t understand, Rhapsody, is why you would try to keep Malcolm from doing what you already knew he had to do. Not only was that selfish of you, but it was also kinda childish, don’t you think?”

  I frowned. “Childish?”

  “Yes, childish. Malcolm had already been with you for a week.”

  “It wasn’t long enough,” I said.

  “Well, it should’ve been. Malcolm had already told you where he needed to be this evening.”

  “I don’t see why his brother-in-law, Sean, couldn’t get his mother in the house.”

  “Because she isn’t Sean’s mother, Rhapsody. She’s Malcolm’s mother. I’m sure Sean was there to assist, but it isn’t his responsibility to aid Malcolm’s mother.” Anastasia chuckled sarcastically, then said, “I mean, I really can’t believe I have to break this down for you.”

  “Malcolm’s sister, Cherise, was there too, Stacy. How many folks does it take to lift a woman in a wheelchair?”

  “Oh, my God. You’re ignorant,” my very best friend said to me. “Cherise probably can’t lift her mother from the car and get her up the porch stairs. It takes a strong man to do that.” Anastasia decided to use reverse psychology on me. “Let me ask you a question. What if Lerlean was confined to a wheelchair and needed you to bathe and dress her? You think it would be right for Danny’s girlfriend, Antoinette, to do those things for your mother instead of you?”

  I thought about that. “Antoinette loves my mother, and I know she’d be willing to do whatever she can for Lerlean, but I wouldn’t feel right. Lerlean is my mother, and I’m her only daughter, so of course I’d be the one to do those things for her, not Antoinette.”

  “Humph. I didn’t think you would be able to do it, but you did.”

  I was confused. “What did I do?”

  “You put yourself in Malcolm’s shoes. Yeah, Sean could’ve lifted and carried Malcolm’s mother, but how do you think it would make Malcolm feel? He would’ve felt just like you would’ve when it comes to Antoinette caring for Lerlean. Just like you’re Lerlean’s only daughter, Malcolm is his mother’s only son. You were wrong, Rhapsody.”

  I felt like a complete idiot. I had admitted to myself that I was wrong for the things I had said to Malcolm about his mother. But talking with Anastasia made me realize that I was also wrong for trying to get him to stay with me when I knew his mother needed him.