A Woman's Worth

by Nikita Lynnette Nichols

  “Call me back in five minutes.”

  “See, I wouldn’t do this to you, Arykah. If you called me early in the morning, I’d talk to you.”

  “First of all, I have enough sense not to call anyone’s house this early in the morning.”

  “I need to talk. I’m serious.”

  Arykah lazily sat up on the bed. “This better be good, Monique. What is it?”

  “The finance committee meets on Monday nights, right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Were you at church last night?”

  Arykah yawned in Monique’s ear. “Uh-huh.”

  “What time did you leave?”

  Arykah stopped her. “Uh, hold up. What’s up with the third degree?”

  “I wanna know if you saw Boris at church last night.”

  “Yeah, that fool was there.”

  “What was he doing?” Monique asked.

  “He was grinning all up in Kita’s face, but she didn’t seem to mind. She met his smile tooth for tooth.”

  “Kita? What was she doing there?”

  “She’s a praise dancer. The dancers rehearse on Monday nights.

  Monique’s anger was on level seven, slowly rising. “What were they talking about?”

  “The heck if I know. I wasn’t that close to them. I don’t even think Boris saw me because he wouldn’t have been x-raying Kita’s tonsils if he had.”

  Monique entered the Dan Ryan Expressway at 95th Street and headed north. “Would you believe Boris didn’t get home until almost midnight? Why didn’t you call and tell me what you saw?”

  That question caused Arykah to become fully awake. “Monique, you act like you don’t know Boris is a ho. How many times have I come to you with somethin’ that I’ve seen him do? Whatever I tell you makes no difference in the status of your relationship or living arrangements, so why should I bother?”

  “It is not like that, Arykah.”

  “Then how is it?”

  “It ain’t like that.”

  “Okay, you ain’t gonna like what I’m gettin’ ready to tell you, but you need to know this. Last night I was in the bathroom behind the stall when Cherry and the new praise dancer, Tracy, came in. Of course, they had no clue I was in there. I heard Tracy ask Cherry where Kita had disappeared to. Apparently, Kita ditched dance rehearsal. Cherry told Tracy that Kita told her that she and Boris were going out to eat. Then Cherry lowered her voice and told Tracy that Kita told her not to wait up for her.”

  Monique squealed. “Not to wait up for her?”

  “Uh-huh. You know Kita and Cherry are roommates.”

  Monique’s anger had reached level ten. “That fool thought I was asleep when he came in last night. He took his clothes off and got in the shower, and when I confronted him, he gave me some lame excuse about being at church practicing for choir rehearsal.”

  “I don’t know if he practiced or not. I was on my way to the finance meeting when I saw him and Kita cheesing at each other. Um, I don’t mean to change the subject, but how is Adonis doing?”

  At the mention of Adonis’s name, Monique smiled. “He’s fine. Arykah, he did the sweetest thing yesterday.”

  “Like what?”

  “Boris and I had an argument before I left for work, and apparently Adonis heard us. He sent a dozen roses to my job to cheer me up. Wasn’t that sweet?”

  This was not what Arykah wanted to hear. “Too sweet, if you ask me.”

  Monique exited the expressway at Pershing Road and drove two miles west. “Why do you say that?”

  “Think about it, Monique. You and your man had an argument, but instead of Adonis taking his cousin to the bowling alley or to the park to shoot some hoops to cheer Boris up, he sends you flowers. You don’t think that’s a little odd?”

  “Arykah, he did it to be nice.”

  “If you say so, Monique, but you need to watch that.”

  “There’s nothing to watch. Adonis was just being Adonis.” Monique pulled into her assigned parking spot at WGOD. The placard displayed on the building read: RESERVED FOR MONIQUE MORRISON, SENIOR EXECUTIVE PRODUCER. She bid farewell to Arykah and entered the radio station.

  Monique got to her desk and thought about her situation and wondered what she should do about Boris. She picked up the telephone and dialed her cousin, Amaryllis. She’d know exactly what to do.

  Chapter 3

  Amaryllis Price, Monique’s cousin, listened patiently while Monique gave her the details of her and Boris’s relationship. “I’m saved now, but I’m wondering if the saint in me should tell you what you need to hear, or if the crazy in me should tell you what you wanna hear,” Amaryllis said.

  “Well, tell me both. But first tell me what I need to hear,” Monique said.

  “Are you sure you want me to? ’Cause, you know I ain’t one to bite my tongue or sugarcoat nothin’, Monique. I may be saved, but I’m still ghetto with a capital ‘G’.”

  Monique laughed. “Yeah, I know, Amaryllis. That’s why I called you. I know you’ll come correct and set me straight. So go ahead and lay it on me. I can handle it.”

  “Okay. Remember that you called me, all right? I don’t want this conversation to come between us.”

  “It won’t. I promise.” Monique wasn’t so sure. Amaryllis was the queen of tough love.

  Amaryllis saved the data she entered into her computer at work. Next she moved back from her desk, crossed her right leg over her left knee, then moved in for the kill. “Why are you acting like a fool, Monique? I taught you better than this. You make me ashamed to say we’re cousins.” She came out of the bag on Monique.

  Though she knew Amaryllis was rough, Monique wasn’t prepared for this.

  Amaryllis noticed Monique didn’t respond. “You want me to shut up?”

  “Say what you gotta say, Amaryllis.”

  “It sounds to me like you’re waiting for Jesus to become flesh, swoop down, and look you in your eyes and verbally tell you that Boris is not the man for you. You got good sense. Why are you acting so dumb?” She heard Monique sniffle. “You created this mess yourself. Boris couldn’t care less if you died tomorrow, and he’s proven that over and over again.

  “You are a twenty-eight-year-old, beautiful, black woman. First and foremost, you’re a role model. Learn to represent your sistas. Our women ancestors went through rape and too much mental, verbal, and physical abuse on our behalf, for us to be living beneath the standards they’ve set for us. If Harriet Tubman was alive to witness the crap you are taking off of Boris, she’d put her foot knee deep in your behind, Monique. She didn’t risk her life bringing our great, great, great grandmother through the Underground Railroad for you to act as though your life ain’t worth nothing.

  “Never, under any circumstances, allow a man to control you, because it motivates you to make bad judgments. Start loving yourself, and put Monique first. To heck with Boris, because in so many ways, he’s saying ‘To heck with Monique. ‘

  “He presented you with an engagement ring that another woman gave back to him. And like a fool, you accepted it. It ain’t even a fourth of a carat. You gotta put on contacts, a pair of bifocals, then hold binoculars up to your eyes while looking through a telescope just to see the darn ring. You’re allowing Boris to treat you like trash. A man will only do to you what you allow him to do.”

  Tears dripped from Monique’s chin onto her desk. She knew Amaryllis was speaking nothing but the truth.

  “You still love me?” Amaryllis asked her.

  “Yeah, I love you.” Monique was barely able to whisper.

  “Good, ’cause I ain’t finished. I’m getting ready to give you a ghetto Bible lesson.” She cleared her throat and began. “God took Eve out of Adam because he was nothing by himself. He was alone, bored, and dumb. When Eve was made, all of that changed. Why? Because she had the tools to make his days fulfilling and his life complete. Women are powerful creatures. We cook the meals, we clean the house, and we carry the babies for nine months.
This world belongs to women, and most of us don’t even know it.

  “See, both Adam and Eve were told not to eat from the tree of good and evil, but the enemy tricked Eve. And when she gave Adam the fruit, he knew better. But Eve was so beautiful and seductive to the point that Adam didn’t care what God said, he did whatever he had to do to get some nooky.”

  Monique hollered out and laughed. “What? Amaryllis, you are crazy.”

  “I may be crazy, but I’m truthful and smart. I’ve figured this thing out since I’ve been saved. Eve set an example for us, and when I get to heaven, I’m gonna kiss her feet. She showed us that we have the power to make men do whatever we want. Men can’t function without us, and I bet if you pack up your stuff and leave Boris, he’d get his act together.”

  “But my name is on the mortgage too. I own half of that house.”

  “I don’t give a . . . ! Girl, you almost made me go to hell. I could’ve said something that would’ve cost me my salvation. I don’t care whose name is on the house. Forget about a house. What about you, Monique? What are you willing to do to make Boris realize that you won’t be disrespected anymore? And you were dumb as heck to co-sign your name to a mortgage with a man who was not your husband. You need to leave him. If you don’t want to sign an apartment lease, rent a hotel room.

  “Show Boris that you can make it without him. Don’t even go to your church on Sunday. Visit other churches. You can hang out with me and my roommate, Bridgette, at Progressive Ministries in Hillside. But you gotta be careful at ‘Gress’ though. You can get hooked in no time. The praise over there is just ridiculous.”

  Amaryllis uncrossed her left leg from her right leg and switched. “Once you prove to Boris that you ain’t a punk, and you ain’t taking his crap no more, he’ll change his ugly ways. He’s not stupid; he knows he can clown on you because you accept everything he throws at you. And whoever this Kita chick is, she won’t be in the picture long. See, some women, especially women in the church, feel that if they can take a man from his wife or woman, they’ve accomplished somethin’. But all they’re really doing is putting themselves on blast and showing how insecure they are.

  “Obviously, Kita doesn’t know the real Boris, or she wouldn’t be wasting her time pursuing a man who has no morals. But this is her little red wagon; let her pull it any way she wants to. And what is it about musicians and preachers, anyway? For some reason every woman feels the need to be hanging on the arm of one. Don’t give this girl the satisfaction of seeing you sweat and thinking she’s got one up on you. Do yourself a favor and wrap Boris’s tail up nice and pretty with a big red bow and serve him to her on a silver platter with all the trimmings. You don’t have to put yourself in competition with any woman for anything, because you are God’s daughter, a King’s kid, and you’re second to none. And I promise you this, Monique; when Kita sees that you don’t care what she and Boris do, she’ll lose interest and move on to her next prey. This is only a game to her.”

  Monique listened to Amaryllis in awe. Just hearing how much knowledge she’d gained in the short time she’d been saved was mind blowing. Monique remembered it wasn’t that long ago when Amaryllis herself was a professional man stealer.

  “Do you understand the words that came out of my mouth, Monique?”

  “Yeah, I understand everything you said. And I know what I gotta do.”

  “Sometimes we have to trust wisdom and not our hearts.”

  “I love you, Amaryllis. Thanks for setting me on Straight Street.”

  “Anytime, sweetie. You can put my check in the mail.”

  “What check?” Monique asked.

  “My honorarium. I did just preach, you know. The topic of my sermon was, Every Woman’s Middle Name Ought To Be Eve.”

  Monique informed Theresa that she’d be out of the office for the remainder of the day and to forward all of her calls to her voicemail. On her way back home, Monique’s cellular phone rang. She recognized the familiar number. “Why aren’t you at work?” she asked Arykah upon answering.

  “After I talked to you this morning, I laid back down and overslept, so I decided to take a vacation day. I just called your office, and Theresa said you left for the day. What’s up?”

  Monique’s adrenaline was flowing. “I’m on my way home to pack my clothes. I’m checking into a hotel.”

  “Whaaat? Where’s the brick that fell on your head?” Arykah was impressed with Monique’s courage, though this was the third time in she and Boris’s two-year-old relationship that Monique had separated herself from him. Each time before, she’d gone back after only a few short days.

  “Ha-ha, very funny. A brick didn’t fall on my head.”

  “Well, something must’ve knocked some sense into you, because you and I both know that you didn’t have any.”

  Monique was surprised yet happy to see Arykah sitting on her front porch with two large authentic Louis Vuitton suitcases next to her. “I figured since I didn’t have anything better to do on this bright and sunny day, like go to the mall or pamper myself with a Swedish massage, I’d help you pack. And I brought two suitcases so you won’t have to stuff your clothes in hefty bags. You know you’re ghetto like that.”

  Monique hugged her best friend. She knew she could always depend on Arykah to be by her side through thick and thin. “Thanks, Arykah. I love you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s get this packing party started.”

  Never in her wildest dreams did Monique ever think she’d be in the position of preparing to leave Boris again. This was not how she envisioned her life to be. As they were packing the second suitcase, Monique broke down and cried. She sat on the bed and covered her face with her hands.

  Arykah sat next to her and pulled Monique in her arms. “It’s gonna be okay, sis. I know it hurts.”

  “Why can’t Boris do right?”

  “Because Boris is a man, and that’s all I gotta say. Just be glad you don’t have any babies by him.” Arykah pulled away and looked Monique sternly in her eyes. “When was your last period?”

  At seven-thirty that evening, Adonis came upstairs from the basement. As usual, Boris’s eyes were glued to a basketball game on the television in the living room.

  “Hey, cuz, where’s Monique? She’s usually home from work by now.”

  Boris waited to see if a player scored before he answered Adonis. “Aw, man, he could’ve made that shot. It was wide open. I don’t know where she is.”

  “You haven’t talked to her?” Adonis was concerned.

  “Nope. She’s probably somewhere with Arykah, getting her hair and nails done.”

  “You ain’t worried, man?”

  “Worried about what? She’s all right.” Boris dismissed all thoughts of Monique and concentrated on the basketball game.

  Adonis shook his head in disgust at Boris’s unconcern for Monique’s absence in that late hour of the day. Of course, he could’ve called Monique’s cellular phone himself just to make sure she was okay, but he knew it would be out of order to do so. Adonis had to constantly remind himself that Monique was his cousin’s girlfriend, not his.

  He took Sunday’s leftovers out of the refrigerator, made himself a plate, then warmed it in the microwave and took it downstairs.

  Adonis’s cellular phone woke him at 10:30 p.m. He didn’t bother looking at the caller identification. He answered in a daze.

  “Hi, Adonis.”

  He opened his eyes at the sound of her soft voice. “Monique? Where are you?”

  “Are you near Boris?”

  “Nah, I’m downstairs. Where are you? Are you okay?”

  “I’m at a hotel downtown. I moved out.”

  Adonis sat up on the bed. “What?”

  “I couldn’t take him anymore, Adonis. It’s time for me to love Monique.”

  “I knew something was up when you didn’t come home. Boris thinks you’re out getting your hair done.”

  “Well, he hasn’t called my cell phone to veri
fy that, so apparently he ain’t too worried.”

  “What hotel are you at?”

  “I’m not telling you because I don’t want Boris to know.”

  “Monique, you don’t need to be out there by yourself without anybody knowing where you are.”

  “Arykah knows where I am, and I’ll call Gravy when I get to work in the morning.”

  “Monique, please tell me where you are. Are you hungry? Do you need anything? Is your door locked securely? Let me come to you.” Adonis was losing his self-control.

  Monique’s heart leapt in her chest. Why couldn’t these caring words come from the other Mr. Cortland? “Adonis, I need to do this, and I need to do it alone. But you can always call my cell phone or my office number.”

  “What do I tell Boris?”

  “Boris doesn’t care about me. I’m willing to bet fifty bucks that if you or Gravy don’t mention my name to him, a week will pass before he even realizes that I’m gone.”

  Monique hung up from Adonis and called Amaryllis. “I just wanted you to know that I checked into the Hilton hotel downtown.”

  “Good for you, Monique. Does Boris know you’re missing yet?”

  “Probably not, but you know what? I couldn’t care less. Listen, earlier you told me what I needed to hear, you never told me what I wanted to hear. What was it?”

  “Well, if I weren’t saved, I would’ve suggested that we call Nana in Baton Rouge and tell her to send us something to put in Boris’s food that will put a root on him. Nana will have him on the lakefront, barefoot in his drawers, walking up to people, scratching his head saying, ‘What’s my name? Where do I live? Can you take me home?”

  “Amaryllis, you are crazy.” Monique laughed so loud, the people in the suite next door banged on the wall to shut her up.

  “Boris doesn’t know whom he’s messing with. We Creole women gotta stick together. Nana would’ve shipped us some stuff overnight. By this time tomorrow, Boris would’ve been in a padded room, sitting in the middle of the floor with his legs folded in a pretzel, wearing one of those white jackets that made him hug himself, blowing spit bubbles. The doctor’s report would’ve read: Boris Cortland showed signs of suffering from Shaken Baby Syndrome.”