Frenemies

by L. Divine

  “Jayd, would you mind finding us a seat? I’m going to get our snacks. Red Vines and bottled water, right?” he says, knowing exactly what I want. He’s going to have his usual popcorn and Milk Duds, I assume. Maybe I should stop interrogating him and have some fun. I need to push the bull of the week out of my head, and chilling with my man and watching How She Move are the perfect distractions. I’m not completely comfortable with the way our conversation ended, but I’ll settle with the progress we’ve made so far. It’s just like Mama says: you have to start cleaning the entire house one room at a time.

  The opening credits are rolling, and I’m ready to completely zone out into the dance movie, but Jeremy’s not back from the concession stand yet. I love to watch people step. It’s been over ten minutes, and the lines move pretty quickly here. I wonder what the holdup is.

  “Hey, babe,” Jeremy says, passing the boxes of candy and popcorn to me. He takes the two bottles of water out of his jean pockets and places them in the cup holders adjacent to the chairs.

  “I thought you got lost,” I say, moving my sweater out of his seat so he can sit down. I know he needs to stretch his long legs, so I always make it a point to pick a row with an empty aisle seat.

  “No, I just had to take care of something real quick,” he says, placing a Macy’s bag in my lap. Oh, no, he didn’t.

  “Jeremy, what did you do?” I ask, opening the pretty gift to reveal my soft brown bag.

  “You shouldn’t have to wait for this,” he says, pulling it out and setting the empty shopping bag on the floor as the movie begins.

  “Thank you,” I say, gently kissing him on the lips. Although I’m happy about my gift, there’s still something wrong with this picture. He can be caring enough to buy me an expensive purse but not to tell me the whole truth about his family? Is he trying to buy my silence or just appease me so I’ll forget about the other stuff? Either way, it doesn’t make me feel good to have my emotions equated with a material object. And besides, I wanted to buy the purse myself. There’s no substitute for my self-worth.

  10

  Like Water for Chocolate

  “I’m the blues in your left thigh/

  Trying to become the funk in your right.”

  —LORENZ TATE/LOVE JONES SOUNDTRACK

  After Friday night’s date, I didn’t feel like talking to Jeremy about why he bought me my purse. If I said he just got it because he thought it would substitute for telling me the whole truth, he might be offended, and I don’t feel like going there with him. Jeremy shuts down when his feelings get hurt, like most men I know. And yesterday was so busy at work, I went right to sleep when I got home. Rah called and invited me to the session last night, but that wasn’t on my agenda. I just wanted to chill.

  For the first time in a long time I called in sick to work this morning. Summer was disappointed but sounded really concerned. I started my cycle yesterday at work, and she gave me this book by a sister named Queen Afua with all kinds of recipes for healing a woman’s body. Thank goodness Simply Wholesome is like a modern botanica, with all kinds of herbal teas and tinctures to help ease my discomfort. I need to take a break from all those bougie-ass people while I’m on my cycle. I already agreed to braid Rah’s hair later this afternoon before going back to Mama’s, and that’ll make up for the day’s pay I’m missing. It’s only noon, and I’m sure he’s still asleep.

  “Jayd, you need to put a heating pad in your stomach and elevate your feet. You know better than to lie there all scrunched up in a ball, waiting for that Tylenol to kick in. Be proactive,” my mom says, bouncing around the living room, all excited. She’s got a tennis date with her new friend Karl, and she’s on cloud nine. I like this guy though, from what I’ve heard about him. Today will be the first time we actually meet. My mom looks stunning in her purple Serena tennis dress. She bought it yesterday, along with a pair of new kicks. Nike must love her credit-card company right about now.

  “Coming!” she says, responding to the knock at the door. She closes the hall closet door and walks over to me, touching my stomach. He’s punctual; I like that.

  “I’ll be back around five to take you home,” she says, plugging the heating pad into the wall next to the small sofa. Home’s relative. I feel more at home when I’m here because I can chill and be myself. But without Mama and the spirit room, I feel like anywhere else I stay can be only temporary, no matter how convenient my mom’s house may be.

  “Hi, Karl,” my mom says, flashing her brilliant jade eyes and bright smile as she opens the door, captivating her new man. He’s not so bad-looking himself. Karl’s tall, brown and athletic, just like she likes them. Dating Ras Joe was a bit out of the norm for Lynn Marie. But he had money and spoiled her, which is right in alignment with her true desires. “This is my daughter, Jayd,” she says, taking her jacket and tennis bag off the coatrack.

  “You look nice, Lynn. Well, hello, there, young lady,” Karl says, waving from the hall. My mom doesn’t let dudes in on the first date. She has many rules in her game.

  “Hello,” I say, almost grunting. I feel like I could pass out from my pain at any moment. The heating pad’s warming up and somewhat soothes my discomfort. “Be careful with her,” I add, teasing the preppy pair.

  “Get some rest, baby, and I’ll see you in a little while,” my mom says, closing the door behind her. I need some peanut M&M’s or something, and I’ve already devoured all the chocolate in this house. “Here’s my ghetto story,” Rah’s new ring tone sings. The song put me in such a good mood after hearing him play it the other day, I figured he’d reclaimed the right of having a signature tune of his own.

  “What’s up?” I grunt. I hope I feel better by the time he gets here.

  “Hey, girl. You sound like shit. What’s wrong?” he asks. “I know you ain’t trying to get out of braiding a brotha’s hair, are you?”

  “No,” I say. “I actually need the money since I missed work today.”

  “You missed work? This must be serious,” Rah says, going into full daddy mode. Whenever I would get sick back in the day, he’d take the day off with me. Since Mama loves him, she’d always let Rah stay.

  “Oh, just the same monthly visitor I’ve had for the past six years and counting, I pray.” Mama’s always quick to remind us of the blessing of fertility and to never take it for granted, no matter how uncomfortable it may sometimes get being a woman. It’s hard to remain grateful when I want to pass out from the excruciating cramps.

  “Oh, I see,” he says, sounding sympathetic. If any dude could feel my pain, it would be him. “You want me to bring you a Snickers when I come over?” Rah offers, instinctively knowing it’s what I crave most, even when I’m not on my period. How could someone so seemingly perfect for me also be my worst heartbreak ever?

  “Yeah, that sounds good. What time will you be here?” I shift the heating pad from the front of my body to my back, which is also sore. The last thing I feel like doing is sitting up braiding. But for Rah, I’ll bear it.

  “I’ll be there soon. But you don’t have to get up if you don’t want to. I’m in no rush,” he says.

  “Good, because right now the only thing I can do is lie here.” All I’ve done this morning is make two phone calls—one to my job and the other to my boyfriend. I talked to Jeremy a while ago, and he said he and his brothers are all spending the day together. Well, Rah is like my brother—with benefits—so I guess I’m having a brother day, too.

  “No problem. I’ll see you in a few,” he says, hanging up the phone. To tell the truth, I’m almost looking forward to seeing the candy bar more than Rah.

  When Rah arrives, I get up to let him in and instantly return to my warm spot on the couch. The meds have finally kicked in, and I was just starting to get comfortable.

  “How are you feeling?” he says, closing the door behind him before sitting on the small space I’ve left for him at the end of the sofa. “Here’s your fix.” He passes me the small brown paper bag with my good
ies in it.

  “Kingsize,” I say. “You spoil me.” And it’s true. Rah has always paid attention to my likes and dislikes. We don’t have money to buy all the fancy stuff Jeremy can afford, but that never seems to matter. He always makes sure that anything I want I get.

  “Yeah, the right way,” he says, noticing my new purse on the coffee table. “Another guilt gift?” He points to the bag. I haven’t used it yet because I just can’t bring myself to. I really wanted to buy the purse myself. Jeremy took all the joy out of it for me. But it’s still a fly bag.

  “Don’t start,” I groan as he looks back at me, arching his eyebrows with a smirk on his face. Rah’s giving me his you know I’m right look. I can’t stand it when he does that.

  “Jayd, how long you gone stay with this fool?” he says, watching me tear open my Snickers and devour it in three bites. That hit the spot. I’m glad Rah doesn’t mind watching me eat. I’ve got to be able to throw down around whoever I’m with.

  “As long as I can,” I say. Who knows how long that’ll be, but I’m not going to allow him to cut it short. I’m letting nature run its course, even if it is a rough road.

  “He’s not even taking you to the Halloween ball, is he?” Why does he know so much about my school’s business?

  “How do you even know that?” I say, chewing my last mouthful of chocolate.

  “Gossip travels up the 405. You didn’t know?” he says, making me giggle. He can be so silly sometimes. “Nah, but for real, though, girl, you deserve better. I’d rather you still be with that punk-ass nigga KJ than the White boy, shawty.” Rah sounds real sincere about his concern for me, but he should’ve been more concerned when he was the one hurting me.

  “Don’t worry about me; I can take care of myself,” I say, turning off my heating pad and rising from the couch. I feel much better and energetic after my chocolate rush. Now I can braid some hair.

  “I don’t doubt that,” he says, taking his bottled water out of his paper bag. “But I think you make bad decisions when it comes to dudes.”

  “Now ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black!” I yell from the bathroom. I need to get a bag for all my hair supplies when I braid: aloe-vera gel, tea-tree oil, Mama’s coconut oil, several combs and clips and rubber bands, a mirror and some leave-in conditioner. All this for some cornrows. But that’s what makes them so hot when I’m the one braiding.

  “Well, I’m actually calling the kettle white,” he says, laughing at his own witty comeback. “Ouch!” he yells as the comb I flung across the room hits him in the head. “You and Mickey need anger-management classes.”

  “Shut the hell up,” I say, straddling the couch behind him as Rah slides down to sit on the floor. I place all my hair goods next to me on the couch, ready to get started.

  “Tell me I’m lying.” The truth is, I can’t. It’s another Williams Women trait I have to deal with: our taste in men.

  “Whatever, Rah. All I’m saying is it ain’t your business no more, and if you want to stay friends you’re going to have to start respecting my relationship with Jeremy, which also means no more sneak kisses,” I say, playfully smacking him in the head with my comb.

  “You know you liked it,” he says, closing his eyes as I begin to massage his scalp. I like to condition his hair before I begin combing through the shiny black mane. His thick Afro is so soft it doesn’t need much oil to make it pliable when I braid.

  “That’s not the point. Don’t mess this up for me, Rah. You’ve already got a girl, and we’ve been down this road before,” I say, doubting my own sincerity. I wish I could honestly say I didn’t want to be with Rah. Ever since Nigel and Rah came back into my life, it’s felt like old times when the three of us—plus whatever girl Nigel was with back then—hung tight. It felt good, safe and secure.

  “Yeah, we have, so let’s see what’s on television; I’m tired of talking about your denial issues,” he says, picking up the remote and knocking over my bag.

  “My bad,” Rah says, setting the bag upright. “Are you thirsty?” He hands me the bottle of water sitting next to my purse.

  “I actually want another Snickers,” I say, accepting the cold drink. I know that seems greedy, but I’m just being true to my feelings, kinda like I’m doing with Rah and Jeremy; I can’t help but love them both. It’s only natural, especially after all Rah and I’ve been through. But it shouldn’t have anything to do with my relationship with Jeremy. I hope they both understand their unique roles in my life and don’t cross each other’s paths again. But knowing Rah, it’s only a matter of time before he officially begins his sabotage mission.

  “Girl, you better quit. All that sugar ain’t good for you,” he says as he molds his neck into my thighs while I begin to sculpt his scalp. Parting Rah’s hair is so relaxing and powerful to me. I don’t know why, but knowing that I put his hair in braids gives me a link with him no other girl has. My cornrows are signature. Jeremy should let me braid his hair. Maybe we can establish a similar bond.

  “I know. But like all things sinful, not being good for me doesn’t stop me from wanting it,” I say, making myself heat up. Rah’s energy is so overwhelming, especially having him this close to me. I’m getting the same feeling I got at homecoming when we were walking around South Bay’s campus at night. Why can’t I shake this fool’s power over me?

  “Is that right, Miss Jackson?” Rah says, amused by my response. He turns the cable channel to Showtime, where Hustle & Flow, one of my favorite movies, is on. I think most people misunderstand what this film’s about. When I saw the advertisements, all they talked about was a Black pimp in the South and his White ho, and that isn’t what this story’s about at all.

  “You remember when we went to see this?” he says, reminding me of one of our last dates as a couple. I saw it only because Rah insisted, and I’m glad he did. “I still have this soundtrack in my rotation.”

  “Yeah, that shit’s hot,” I say. As I become entranced in the neat parts and shiny braids I’m weaving into his head, my favorite part comes on. The kiss between Djay and Shug embodies the true essence of the movie for me; it’s all about Black love.

  “Damn, girl, that’s why we got suspended,” he says, making me recall our first kiss behind our math class at Family Christian. We got busted by my evil seventh-grade math teacher and were put on probation for “passionate kissing” the remainder of the school year. As embarrassed as I was, I didn’t care if we got caught again. I just wanted to keep kissing him. Rah was the first and by far the best kisser I’ve ever had. Aw, hell, this isn’t good. He needs to turn the channel, and now.

  “Rah, see what else is on. We don’t need to be watching this and going down memory lane,” I say, attempting to snatch the remote from his control.

  “You need to concentrate on my hair and let me handle the entertainment,” he says, pushing my hands back. “What’s wrong? Good memories giving you hot flashes?” He’s alluding to the secret only he and I share. I haven’t told any of my other friends about my powers and their effects on me. Nigel and Misty have an idea about Mama’s reputation in the hood but not about our complete lineage. Rah’s the only friend I can trust with my true self.

  “Shut up,” I say, again smacking him in the head before I continue braiding. My mom will be home in a few hours, and I want to make sure I take my time with his hair and get packed up before she gets back. She doesn’t like me moving slow on Sundays or any other day she has to take me back to Compton. My mom stays there long enough to holler at my grandparents, Bryan and Jay, and then she’s out. Lynn Mae’s not one for staying on the east side any longer than necessary.

  “What time’s your mom getting back?” he asks, knowing my routine. It must be nice to have a single home, no matter how dysfunctional it may be.

  “About five,” I say.

  “Cool,” he says, pulling out a blunt and lighting it, in full chill mode. My mom smokes sometimes, too, so she won’t notice the lingering scent after we burn some ince
nse and air the joint out. I’m glad Rah doesn’t pressure me to smoke. He knows it’s not my thing. I’m going to miss this freedom once I return to Mama’s. But I am looking forward to getting this week over. It’s going to be busy at home with Mama’s Halloween clients becoming more demanding as the unholy day approaches, and I want to get the Masquerade Ball over, too. I better enjoy my last few hours of chill time before the storm begins.

  I walk into the gymnasium turned cemetery, my Afro wig in full effect as I strut across the floor in my high-heeled boots. I look around and can barely make out the bodies, due to the false fog generating through the large room, but I can feel Rah’s presence and taste his chocolate-coated kisses on my lips. I feel like I need a drink of cool water to quench my parched throat, so I begin looking for the refreshment table on the other side of the gym.

  There are spiderwebs and bloody mannequins hanging from the ceiling, which further obstruct my vision as I make my way through the crowd. In the center of the basketball court are three huge bubbling cauldrons where people are lined up to take their turns bobbing for apples; Tania, Nellie and Laura are in the middle row. I notice that Tania, who’s naturally in front of her followers, has an apple hidden up her sleeve. When her turn comes, she refuses to put her blindfold on and bobs for her fruit with perfect aim. She then slips her hidden apple in the water, and Nellie follows her lead, just as Tania expected.

  “Go for that one, Nellie,” Tania says, pointing to the planted target with a wicked grin. Her demeanor fits her costume perfectly: a sluttish witch. I feel like I’m in a twisted version of Snow White and I need to save Nellie from the jealous stepmother’s poisonous plan, but I’m too late. By the time I run over to where they are, she’s already bitten into the tainted fruit infected with worms, which quickly spread all over Nellie’s face, freaking out her and everyone else around.

  Remember, Jayd, true friends help each other in their time of need, even when they won’t admit they need it, my mom says, her thoughts again invading my space.