by L. Divine
—JOHN LEGEND
I’ve been trying to figure out how to handle Jeremy since Tania’s final stab with her confession yesterday. I didn’t get a chance to talk to him last night because me and my reunited crew hung out at Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles until early this morning. Rah and Nigel didn’t go to their dance at Westingle and decided to kick it with us. Chance was the only one who didn’t join in on clowning Nellie for being the true princess that she is.
It felt good chilling with my old crew. And with my mom out of town until tomorrow morning, I don’t have to worry about beating her home tonight either, which means I can also stay out as late as I want. Her going to Vegas with Karl is me and my mom’s little secret, because if Mama found out she left me alone for the weekend, she’d flip out on both of us.
“Very cute picture, but me no see the White boy in it,” Sarah says in her thick Jamaican accent, snapping me out of my daydream about the dance and after-party. It’s nice having a reminder of our successful evening on my key chain.
“Shut up, Sarah,” I say, snatching my picture from her and returning it to my back pocket. I have yet to confront Jeremy about Tania’s treasure chest, but I’ll take care of that when he picks me up from work in a little while. I have a session tonight at Rah’s and want to get my relationship issues squared away now. I wish Rah and I could stay together, but it seems like we’re just not a good match. Although we have a lot in common, our values are different, and that’s a big problem that no kiss can make disappear.
“Those jeans are so tight I’m surprised you can squeeze anything else into them,” Sarah says, being her blunt self. I haven’t worn this pair of Levi’s in a while, and they seem to fit tighter than I remember.
“I know, girl. I’m trying to get mama hips like you, without having the baby,” I say, laughing at her silly self as she struts her full-figured behind in front of me. She has a son and a baby daddy at home living with her, her mother and her older sister. Now, that’s family.
“Ladies,” Marty says, ruining our moment of fun. I’m glad it’s almost time for me to go home, because even the sight of this trick makes my blood boil. “I think there is plenty to do around here to keep you busy without playing America’s Next Top Model while you’re supposed to be working.”
“I don’t know that I’d qualify for that show, being that I’m Jamerican,” Sarah says, making me and Alonzo laugh. But Marty doesn’t find her joke amusing at all.
“Whatever, Sarah,” Marty says, joining us behind the counter and checking the register.
“I’m clocking out in twenty minutes,” I say, defending my territory. No one is supposed to touch our registers while we’re clocked into them—only Summer and Shahid.
“Well, I’ll cash you out early. I need you to check the bathrooms before leaving. Sarah, you can empty the trash,” Marty says, taking her management position too far.
“That’s not my job; I’m a cashier, and I’m not letting you cash my register out. That’s not the way I was taught,” I say, causing my coworkers to fall silent as I defend our turf. Just because she’s the only supervisor here right now doesn’t mean I won’t check her ass. I thought she already knew not to go there with me, but I guess some people just don’t learn.
“You don’t have a choice, Jayd,” Marty says, pressing the ENTER key and causing the register to ring, running my receipt for the day. “It’s already done. Now, the bathrooms, please.” She takes my drawer to the office and shuts the door.
“Damn, why she got to be so stank all the time?” I say, pissed.
“I heard that,” she says through the closed door. I really don’t give a damn what she hears, because I intend to let it be heard by everyone who cares to know tomorrow. I’m going to make it clear that I won’t work under her anymore, even if it means losing my job. I’d hate to let Simply Wholesome go, but I’m sure I can find another job somewhere.
“Jayd, we got you if your register comes up short or something,” Alonzo says as he cuts up fresh fruit for our famous smoothies. This used to be such a fun place to work, until Marty arrived from hell only knows where. “You were right not to cash out voluntarily before your shift is up,” he says as Sarah nods in agreement while she collects the trash from behind the counter before going around the store.
“And I wouldn’t be cleaning no bathrooms either if I were you,” Sarah continues. “That was never mentioned to me in no interview.”
“I know. Where does she get off?” I ask. “Screw it. I’m clocking out. She can dock me for the fifteen minutes if she wants, but I’ve had enough for one day.” I grab my backpack off the wall and punch my time card in the clock before walking out the front door. “See y’all tomorrow.”
“Bye, Jayd,” Sarah says, giving me a hug before heading to the dumpster outside. I know she doesn’t mind too much because it gives her the chance to get out for a minute.
“Hey, Jayd, I heard you be hooking them braids up,” Alonzo says, catching me off guard. Rah must’ve told him the last time he came up here. “You think you can hook a brotha up with those Iverson rows?” He’s referring to the fish-bone braids the basketball superstar made famous.
“I wish I could help you, but all I do is straight-back, gangsta style,” I say. I’m not into all the fancy braids everyone’s wearing nowadays, and neither is Rah, thank goodness.
“That’s cool. I saw your boy’s hair, and it looks fly, no shit,” he says, making my spirits lift before I head out the door. Rah probably wants some fresh braids after his Afro was out last night. Maybe I can hook him up tonight at the session.
“What boy?” Jeremy says as he enters the door on my exit. What’s he doing here early?
“You’re early,” I say, leading him out the door and away from my nosey homies. Sarah looks at me from across the near empty parking lot, smiling and shaking her head. That’s my girl.
“Yeah, there wasn’t any traffic today,” he says, his blue eyes glistening and complimenting his curly brown hair perfectly. If he wasn’t so fine, our impending breakup would be a lot easier to handle. “How was work?” We walk back toward the Mustang parked illegally in the handicap spot. Who does he think he is, the owner?
“Work was shit, and I don’t want to talk about it. Jeremy, aren’t you afraid of getting a ticket?” I ask as we get into his ride.
“No. Should I be?” he says, starting the engine, his loud music blaring. How come I never noticed how smug he is before now?
“Uh, yeah, I would think so, being that you’re not even handicapped.” It must be nice living in his world without fear of any real repercussions. I’ll never use my gifts to help his undeserving ass again, and I can’t respect his aloofness any longer. Enough is enough.
“Girl, you worry too much. So, why was work so bad?” Jeremy asks as we head for my mom’s house.
“It was okay until our new manager tried to bust my ass for no reason,” I say, still upset over Marty’s bull. “She’s so uptight it makes work more draining than it already is.” I rub my aching legs. Standing up all day is no fun.
“Then why don’t you just quit?” Jeremy says like it’s no big deal. “You’ve been complaining about it for a while now.”
“It’s not that simple,” I say. Even if I know I can find another job, I’m comfortable at Simply Wholesome, and I like most everything else about working there, except for Marty. Before she came along, the most annoying thing about going to work was the occasional pissy customer. But having a bitch for a boss trumps a bougie-ass patron any day. “I’ve been working here for over a year now, and I like it. And why should I let her win?”
“Because it’s not always about winning,” he says, sounding too Zen-like for me today. There’s always a winner and a loser in these types of situations. And I’m not about to lose this battle.
“And sometimes it is.” After an extended period of silence, Jeremy changes the subject, giving me the perfect opening for my next topic of discussion.
“I ta
lked to Chance this morning,” he says, turning down the radio. “He told me what happened at the dance.” I hope that’s all he told him. Chance hung out with us last night and knew I didn’t want Jeremy to know about our impromptu late dinner. I hope he was a good friend to me and kept his mouth shut.
“Yeah, it was pretty ugly,” I say, recalling Laura’s mouthful of worms. As long as it wasn’t my girl, I don’t really care. I feel like everyone else got just what they deserved. Well, except for Reid. But I’ll handle him another time.
“You have to be more calm, Jayd. For example, in Buddhism—” Before he can finish his statement, I go off.
“Look, Jeremy, you can follow all that peaceful bullshit if you want, but everyone’s life ain’t always that simple. And besides, you’re Jewish, not Chinese, so why are you following after some other culture’s religion? Doesn’t your family have traditions of their own?” I yell loud enough so people in other cars can hear.
“Yes, but we can all learn to adapt to other ways of living if the one we’re born with doesn’t suit us,” he says.
“Yeah, well, I did a little research of my own on your chosen way of life,” I say, recalling my own limited search when he first started to school me about one of his favorite religions. I have to admit, at first I was intrigued. “And I will never adapt to a philosophy that teaches that the ultimate goal of reincarnation is to come back in the highest form, which happens to be as a man.”
“There’s a lot more to it than that,” he says, laughing at my interpretation. “You should really look into it further. I think it could be to your benefit.”
“I don’t need any more benefits, fool; you ain’t the county, so stop trying to give me aid all the damn time. And I’m very happy with my own cultural heritage,” I say. Now I’m really boiling. If I could get out of this car and walk the rest of the way back to my mom’s house, I would. But after wearing my mom’s red boots last night and being on my feet all day at work, I’m too tired to get my swagger on.
“Jayd, we could all leave behind some parts of our cultures—like I do with my parents’ religious hang-ups. And, from what I know of Christianity, it wasn’t originated by African-Americans.” What the hell? “So you should be open to other ways of thinking.” Is this White boy really trying to give me a history lesson and insult me at the same time? I used to think his knowledge made him attractive. But now I see that it’s more of a pompous arrogance, and that’s not attractive to me at all.
“What does Christianity have to do with this conversation ?” I say, taken aback by his assumption. If he only knew about the religions of my ancestors, he wouldn’t be so quick to judge.
“Well, I thought because your grandfather was a preacher, you were Christian,” he says, recalling one of our first “get to know each other” conversations. I never did tell him about my grandmother’s work, but now I see I should’ve had this conversation with him a long time ago.
“No, I’m not, and neither are the women in my lineage,” I say, feeling the power of my claim. Just saying the words to him makes me feel bigger than I appear.
“Well, whatever. All I’m saying is that African-Americans don’t really have a religion of their own, so they have to borrow from other sources,” Jeremy says, sounding like most people I know, regardless of race. This is a common misconception because of the obvious disconnect during the Middle Passage. But as our lessons teach us, our spirits never died—they just changed. “And it may do you and your lineage some good to adapt to some other ways of being. Just a suggestion,” he says as we pull up to my mom’s apartment. I can’t believe how this conversation is going, especially when morals are the main issue on my mind.
“Jeremy, my lineage is just fine. And like all other cultures, we each have our positive and negative sides, no matter how it may look to outsiders,” I say as he parks in the long driveway and turns off the engine. I told him my mom didn’t want me to have any company upstairs while she’s out of town, and I agree—at least, not Jeremy. I’m ready to part ways with him, and now.
“Yeah, okay. But I think you need to learn how to take it easy and not take shit so seriously all the time, you know?” he says, reclining his chair and looking me in the face.
“So I should learn how to chill like you do,” I say, unbuckling my seatbelt and turning in my seat to face him head-on. I want him to see me clearly when I return the insults.
“Yep, that’s right,” Jeremy says, smiling. He has no idea how deep he’s digging his own grave.
“So you not claiming your own child is chilling in your culture,” I say, shocking the conceit right out of him.
“Jayd, not this shit again. I thought we already settled this,” he says, pulling his baseball cap over his eyes.
“No, we never settled it. You bought me a purse instead, remember?” I say, rolling my neck. The neighbors peek out of their windows to see me, once again, outside with my White boyfriend. I wonder if they ever talk shit about me to my mom. If they do, she’s never said anything to me about it.
“Jayd, what do you want me to do? Fight Tania for the right to raise her baby? Not going to happen,” Jeremy says, unrelenting in his self-righteous attitude.
“Yes, I want you to fight for something other than your brothers,” I say, remembering how heated he gets when it comes to Reid and his brothers. “How can you not want to be involved with your own baby?”
“Because it’s me or the baby,” he says, letting out a painful part of his lineage I know nothing about. “If I keep my name on her baby, my father will disown me, and it’s not worth all that, Jayd. Now, can we please drop it?” Damn, now that’s heavy. I guess it’s not so easy being a trust-fund baby after all. But I still have no respect for his decision or the way he’s so cool with it.
“So what about Tania’s guilt gifts?” I say, moving on to the next gripe on my list. “She said you used to buy her gifts when you knew something was up and you didn’t want to deal with it, especially when it concerned your racist family.” Jeremy’s olive complexion turns beet red.
“What about them?” he says, not even denying it. “I say sorry with pretty things rather than words. You act like you don’t get to benefit from it, too.” Now, see, that’s the arrogant shit I’m talking about. This fool’s too much for me.
“You know what, Jeremy, where you come from, that may be okay,” I say, picking up my backpack from the car floor, ready for a hot shower and nap before my long night. This conversation is over, just like our relationship. “But where I come from, that’s called bribery, and I’m not for sale.”
“Who’s trying to buy you?” he says, sitting straight up in his seat as I open the passenger door, ready to exit his car for what will probably be the last time.
“You are. And you not seeing that is what makes this relationship impossible to maintain.”
“So, that’s it? You’re breaking up with me because I buy you nice things like this purse you were salivating over last weekend?” he says, reaching in the backseat and pulling out the Lucky bag that won’t go away. “What am I going to do with this?” He stretches it toward me.
“That’s not my problem. And it’s the reason behind the buying, not the action itself,” I say, touching the soft leather. “I told you to return it.”
“I don’t return things, Jayd. Besides, it was a gift, and you can’t give gifts back,” he says, lifting my chin with the gentlest touch. He kisses me softly, but I’m still too hot to buy into his game.
“And I can’t take back my feelings, Jeremy. I’m sorry, I wish I could say that all this doesn’t matter, but it does. I can never get over the fact that your family is classist or racist or whatever they are and that you’re to chill to really give a damn,” I say, finally getting out of the car.
“Jayd, don’t do this. I love you, girl. Get back in the car,” Jeremy says, still not believing it’s over.
“Jeremy, I need some space,” I say, trying to let him down as easily as I can without crip
pling his pride. If I know one thing about dudes it’s that they don’t like to show when they’re hurting. And this is one of those times for Jeremy.
“Okay, I’ll check on you later, Lady J. And don’t forget your bag,” he says, handing me the purse through the open window before starting the car and taking off. I admit, it was fun while it lasted. But like all things, whether good or bad, they must eventually come to an end. As I walk up the stairs leading to my mom’s door, my phone rings. It’s Mickey.
“What up, girl? Me and Nellie are going to roll out around nine to pick you up,” she says. I’m so glad to hear her say Nellie’s name without any hate in her voice.
“Cool,” I say, sounding as exhausted as my body feels.
“Is everything okay, girl?” Nellie says, chiming in on the three-way call. “You sound awful.” It’s been a long day, and I need to wind down.
“Jeremy and I just broke up,” I say, realizing for the first time it’s true. Breakups never feel good, even if they are the only option left in a mismatched relationship like ours.
“Well, it’s about time,” Mickey says, not hiding her joy. “Now, we can get down to business and get you and Rah back together?”
“Whatever, Mickey. I’ll see y’all later,” I say, ignoring her jovial disposition.
“I’m sorry about you and Jeremy, Jayd,” Nellie says, sounding truly sympathetic.
“I know you really like each other.”
“Yeah, but that isn’t always enough,” I say, stating the obvious. If relationships were that easy, no one would ever break up.
“We’ll catch up with you in a few hours, Jayd. And wear those red boots again. I think Rah likes them.”
“What are you, my pimp now?” I say to Mickey as she and Nellie hang up, leaving me to my mom’s peaceful apartment. I need some space before we go out tonight. It feels good to be alone for a change, even if it’s only temporary.
“Where are the boots?” Mickey says as she and Nellie pull up the driveway, bumping Mary J, who’s singing my exact sentiments about Jeremy. I wasn’t thinking straight to think we were ever meant to be.
