What's Real

by Daaimah S. Poole

  I really couldn’t find anything to wear. I called Damon and told him that I couldn’t find anything to wear and that we would have to leave a little later.

  “Janelle, you’re becoming a little spoiled shopping diva. ‘It’s the end of the world Damon. I can’t find anything to wear,’ ” he whined in a feminine tone.

  “Shut up, Damon, this is not funny. I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “Girl, please. You go shopping with Kelly every other day. I see about twenty-five things in the closet with tags still on them. So what are you talking about? I have to go. It’s almost a four-hour drive and I’m in the wedding.”

  “Fine, Damon.”

  “I will leave you, Janelle.”

  “I don’t care. Bye, Damon.” If he leaves me, I don’t care. He won’t leave me.

  I got home and saw Damon had actually left me. He had taken the train to Orlando. I couldn’t believe it! He left me a note saying If you change your mind, Janelle, call my aunt Blondell. She will tell you how to get here. Damon. I was so angry about Damon leaving me I began to cry. I called Natalie. I knew she would understand.

  I explained everything to her and she said, “Well, you have changed a little, Janelle.”

  “What do you mean?” I said with an attitude.

  “Well, I mean every time I talk to you it’s about what a great deal you got on a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes or Manolo Blahnik. Whatever they are. The only other person I heard talking about those shoes was Carrie from Sex and the City.”

  “So, I have changed?”

  “Yeah, I think so, Nell. You better go get your man. You know how many women will be after him trying to become Mrs. Damon Scott at the wedding? Woman are always looking for a husband at weddings.”

  “You’re right. Let me go put these women in check. Well, it’s going to be a long drive, so let me call you back when I get in the car. I’m going to try to charge my phone.”

  I called Damon’s aunt Blondell and she gave me directions. I asked her not to tell Damon I was on my way. I wanted it to be a surprise. I made the long drive in about three and a half hours. It was supposed to be a four-hour drive. I walked into the reception and saw the bride. Her dress was nice and she was cute. The groom was skinny and tall. He kind of favored Damon. You could tell they were related. I saw Damon from across the room, standing in a circle with a group of guys. He looked so good in his tuxedo. I walked over to the huddle of guys Damon was standing in. I tapped him on his shoulder and said, “Damon.”

  He jumped and said, “Janelle, what are you doing here?”

  I could tell he was startled. His hand was tracing this girl’s back. She was a fat, young chick, no more than nineteen. He pulled me to the side, and the group dispersed.

  “How did you get down here, Janelle?”

  “Damon, don’t worry about that. What the fuck were you doing touching her back?”

  “Janelle, that is my little cousin.”

  “If that is your little cousin, why were you all up on her?”

  “I just said, ‘Little cousin, you got big. Why you go that big tattoo on your back?’ ”

  “Whatever, Damon.”

  Here it is, I had driven all the way from Miami to Orlando and he had me down here looking like the jealous girlfriend. I wanted to go home. I was pissed off.

  The wedding itself was tacky. They had a buffet with family members that were in the wedding fixing plates and plastic plates and utensils. Then they had cheap champagne that cost three dollars a bottle. I knew Damon was guilty, because he was all up on me asking me if I was okay. Then he kept getting me glasses of champagne and trying to make me a plate at dinner. His sister came over to the table we were sitting at. He introduced us. He said, “Londa, this is Janelle.”

  I said hi and she said hey halfheartedly. She was rolling her eyes at me. Fat bitch, I thought. Damon’s sister’s hair was tied up in a bun with hard shiny ribbon curls swooped over her forehead. Her pink dress was heavily creased from her bulging stomach and waist. The rest of the bridesmaids had on red dresses with pink gloves. She acted as if she was Damon’s woman. Her name was Yolanda. She was divorced and had a son and a daughter. Damon said he was going to be right back and left the table. Yolanda made small talk for a moment. Then she asked me what college I went to.

  “I didn’t go to college,” I said.

  “Are you from Miami?”

  “No, Philadelphia.”

  “Oh, where do you work?”

  “I don’t. I used to be work—”

  She cut me off and said, “It must be nice not having to work. I guess you all are the same.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The last girl he had didn’t work either; then she went off with another woman.”

  “Yeah, that was crazy. I’m not like that. Well, excuse me, I’m going to find Damon.” When I got up, I heard her murmur something about how I was probably leeching off her brother. I wanted to say something, but this was Damon’s family and I didn’t want to cause any more scenes. I found Damon as he was getting glasses of champagne. He introduced me to the rest of his family. His mother, Mrs. Scott, was sweet. She was real country. She had yellow-blond braids and red lipstick on. His father said a brief hello. He was too busy dancing with the bride to pay me any attention.

  I felt like I should have stayed home. This family was country and didn’t care about me. They treated me like I wasn’t nothing special. Just like one of his many girls. I was calming down, the glasses of champagne were starting to take their toll. I had to go to the bathroom really bad. I walked as fast as I could. Once I was in the bathroom I saw Damon’s so-called little cousin kissing one of the groomsmen. She was lying all the way back on her back. She jumped up and the guy ran out of the bathroom. I went into the stall like nothing happened. When I came out, I looked at myself, washed my hands, shook my hands dry as I looked around for a paper towel. The girl was fixing herself up trying to brush out the wrinkles from her dress.

  “So, how are you related to Damon?” I asked as I stepped in the girl’s face.

  “I’m his cousin,” she said meekly.

  “His cousin. Are you on his mother’s side or father’s side?”

  “I’m his cousin Benny’s cousin.”

  “So y’all not really related?”

  “Well, not technically, but we consider each other cousins. I would never deal with him like that. I have a boyfriend. The guy that just left.”

  I wanted to say, I didn’t ask you that, you little bitch! I looked her up and down and walked out of the bathroom. I guess I was wrong. She was really his cousin and I needed to go and apologize.

  I found Damon and said, “I’m sorry that I didn’t believe that was your cousin.”

  “It’s cool. You know I’m happy, baby girl. I wouldn’t do that to you. Why would I invite you? Let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Natalie

  My doorbell rang. I couldn’t imagine who it was. I had just come in from dropping the baby off at day care. I looked out the door and a lanky young white guy with glasses on said, “I have a package for Natalie Martin-Grant.”

  I opened the door said, “Yes, I’m Natalie Grant.”

  “Mrs. Grant, this is a petition for divorce. I need your signature.” I grabbed the papers and read them.

  “What?”

  “Your husband sent these to you.”

  “Is he asking for the house?” I asked.

  “Mrs. Grant, I don’t know. You can read through it.”

  I called Anthony as I looked through the documents and told him.

  “Okay.”

  “Are you putting us out?” I yelled to Anthony on the phone.

  “No, you put me out. You can stay there.” I looked over at the guy. He was looking at me like sign the papers. I signed the copies. He handed one of the copies back and said, “That is your copy.”

  He walked away and I said, “Excuse me, how do I know when eve
rything is finalized?”

  He turned around and said, “You will receive a notice in the mail in thirty-one days if neither of you contest.”

  “Thank you,” I said as I closed my door. That was it, my marriage was over. It was really over. I don’t want to be divorced! I screamed as I tried to call Anthony back. I want to be married. Oh God, I got to call him back and tell him this is a big mistake. I just wanted Anthony to do right, be a good man, tell Ms. Renee to chill. I don’t want this. This is a mistake. I don’t want to get a new boyfriend or husband. New boyfriends are always molesting or beating their girlfriends’ kids. I can’t take that. I’d rather work it out with Anthony. I want Anthony back. I had him back before and I let him go. This time I’m not going to let him go. I know he is a mama’s boy. I know everything about him. I know that he doesn’t like chocolate, but he loves hot cocoa. I know he doesn’t lie and cheat. I’m not even thirty yet! I can’t be divorced. I got to make it work with Anthony.

  I drove to Anthony’s job. I ran to the front counter and asked for Anthony. They said he wasn’t in. I walked back to my car. Adrenaline pumping, I called Janelle.

  “Janelle!” I screamed, I was so happy she answered the telephone.

  “What’s wrong, Natalie?”

  “Anthony sent divorce papers for me to sign. And I signed them.”

  “Natalie, I thought that’s what you wanted. Right?”

  “No, I thought that, but I don’t want that. Janelle, I don’t know, I’m so confused. If I lose Anthony I will have nothing. My son won’t have his father. I won’t have a family,” I said, out of breath.

  “Nat, calm down, you can’t live your life for baby Anthony. He is your son, and you are his mom. But moms need to live their life. If you try to get back with Anthony to make it work just for the baby, you will die early and live a miserable depressing life.”

  “I’m not going to find another husband. It’s statistics saying so. It’s been researched and proven. I’m about to be divorced now. You know how much harder it will be for me to find someone again? Only one in every twenty women marry again after divorce. And the rate for black women remarrying is even lower. It’s true! I read it in Essence.”

  “Well, you’ll be the one out of twenty. You’ll find somebody else to love, Natalie. Nat, listen. You are pretty, you only have one child. You can move on.”

  “I can’t move, I got to call Anthony. I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up on Janelle. She didn’t understand. I called Anthony back. He answered the phone.

  “Anthony, I don’t want a divorce. I want you back. Please listen to me. I want you back. I need you back. I’ll do anything,” I said.

  “What, Natalie, are you crazy? No, Natalie, absolutely not. You got me to move all my stuff back in there, and then once I came back, you showed your ass. You started disrespecting me. No, it’s over. You don’t want me. You proved that several times.”

  “I love you, Anthony.”

  “It’s over, Natalie,” he said then.

  The phone went dead.

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Tanya

  Davon and Deja were with Mom-Mom and I was chilling over at Monica’s house. I thought of calling that guy Buc. He could take me out somewhere. I dug around in my handbag and found his number. I dialed and an old lady answered the phone. “Hello, may I speak to Buc?”

  “Who you want? Walter?”

  “No, Buc.”

  “You mean Walter. Walter, the phone.”

  I heard him pick up the phone and say, “Hello.”

  “Hi, this is Tanya. You gave my son your number.”

  “Yeah, I remember. What’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing much. I wanted to see if you wanted to do something.”

  “Well, I’m a little busy right now, but I’m going to call you back,” he said.

  I gave him my number and then hung up. He didn’t ever have to worry about me calling him anymore. He gave my son his number and he is going to tell me that he has to call me back? I don’t think so. I turned on the television and began watching some stupid reality show. The phone rang. I answered it and someone said, “Is Monica, that whore, there?”

  “Who is this?” I said.

  “Your worst nightmare, bitch. Tell that bitch that she better stop messing with my man or her ass won’t have no way of making money after I cut off her leg.”

  “What? First, get off this phone. Second, get a life. Third, Monica ain’t here. She probably with your man right now while you arguing with me, and if you call here again I’m going to whoop your ass, bitch.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Bitch, you don’t need to know who I am.”

  “I know this ain’t Tanya! That’s why you ain’t got no baby’s father and your kids are bastards.” All I heard was laughing and somebody saying ha, ha, ha! That was a good one! Then she said, “Now give that bitch my message and find a baby’s father.”

  I hung up the phone and called Monica to tell her that somebody was playing on the phone. She said it was probably Lil’ Ron’s baby’s mom. She couldn’t find him and had been calling him all day. Monica and him were chilling in a room in Wildwood, New Jersey.

  The phone rang again. I thought it was Monica again. “Monica?” I said.

  “No, it’s me bitch, ha, ha, ha. Tell that Monica I’m going to put a hit out on her and her kids.”

  I hung the phone up again, and then it rang again. This time I picked it up and said, “Bitch, stop playing on the fucking phone.” Then I heard a man’s voice say, “Uh, hello, can I speak to Tanya?”

  “Who is this and what the fuck do you want?”

  “Um, this is Buc from the barbershop and I want to know if I can still take you out.”

  “How you doing? Sorry about that. Somebody is playing on my girlfriend’s phone.”

  Buc asked me to come and meet him at the barbershop. He said he had a head to cut. I didn’t feel comfortable sitting around all the guys. He said it would only take a minute, so I went.

  I walked to the barbershop. The door was locked. I knocked a little and he came and opened the door.

  “What’s up, Ms. Tanya?”

  “Nothing.” I walked in and had a seat. All the other barbers were looking at me and whispering, “Who is that?” to Buc. He just laughed at them. I know he called me down here to show me off.

  Buc gave this young guy a shape-up and said, “See you next week.” The guy paid him and gave him a pound by slapping their fist together.

  “Where you want to go?” Buc asked.

  “I don’t know. We can go to Red Lobster or something.”

  “I’m allergic to seafood,” he said.

  “I don’t care, I’m not allergic,” I responded.

  “What? What am I’m supposed to eat? Don’t be selfish.”

  “Well, maybe a steak place then.”

  “I know a place.” Buc cleaned up his station and counted his money. I was counting it with him. I think Buc might be my Walei replacement. He named this place we could go to. We got in his big black truck. And I don’t mean SUV! I mean truck, a big workingman’s pickup truck. It was new, but I don’t like trucks. They are not roomy enough.

  Buc’s idea of a nice place to eat was a Chinese buffet. I was not feeling it at all. There were kids running around and babies crying, an old man was coughing all loud. I was not eating there. It was just not a nice first-date restaurant at all.

  “I don’t want to eat here,” I said.

  “Where you want to go?”

  “Anywhere but here.” We got back in the truck and went to Bilal’s Garden on Wadsworth Avenue. The food was good and Buc was okay. I don’t know what it was, but there was something that I didn’t like about Buc. He was nice and everything but wasn’t accommodating enough.

  After we ate dinner, we walked back to his truck. He opened my door and closed it for me. I got in and waited for him to open his door and get in. He started the truck and I turned the music up. I pull
ed down his sun visor vanity mirror and checked myself out.

  Buc flicked the visor back up. He then turned the music down and said, “Yo, listen, I know you used to dudes falling head over heels for you and doing whatever you say. But I’m not that dude, all right?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “About your whole attitude.”

  “Whatever, take me home,” I said.

  “Look at you. You ain’t that cute. You didn’t even say thank you.”

  “What was I supposed to say thank you for?”

  “You didn’t even say thank you for me taking you to dinner, opening your doors, or any of that.”

  “You only did what a man is supposed to do.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. I didn’t think you had to say thank you for every little thing. But if it means so much to you, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said.

  I got him to take me to Monica’s house. She was sitting on the steps when we pulled up. I said good-bye to Buc and he said, “I’ll call you and, Tanya, you are that cute.”

  I smiled and stepped out of the truck.

  “He is cute,” Monica said as he pulled off.

  “He’s all right.”

  “What does he do?”

  “Cut hair. That’s the guy from Derrick’s barbershop.”

  “Really? He’s what’s up.” I’m glad she thought so, because I sure didn’t think so.

  Chapter Fifty

  Janelle

  Damon was in the shower getting ready for his last preseason game against the New Orleans Saints. I took off my clothes so that I could get in the shower with him. I unsnapped my bra and began to slip off my pants. I walked into the foggy bathroom. The shower was running and it was steamy. I walked in and saw something I could not accept. It just didn’t make sense. I just couldn’t believe it. Damon was sitting on the toilet nodding. His body was swaying back and forth like he was about to tilt. He had a little mirror with lines of cocaine. I nudged him, he didn’t move, and then I gently smacked his face.