by Cydney Rax
“Loretta, leave my mama out of this. At least she isn’t crying the blues because some man jumped her,” I snap, knowing my words sound harsh, but I feel way too agitated to behave kind and gentle to Loretta. “True, Blinky shouldn’t be raising his hand at you, but Loretta, sometimes you are a difficult woman to deal with. Only so much a man can take.”
“And what would you know about having a man, Rachel?” Loretta screeches again. I can picture her face contorted in a glob of ugly frustration. I realize this must be very challenging for her. She’s the woman who always has answers for other women and their relationship problems. I wonder what great idea she’ll come up with to fix this mess. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, young lady. I’d look like a fool trying to listen to advice from you. You couldn’t even hold on to your fiancé—”
“I’m not listening to you. Did you hear me? You don’t matter to me.” I drown her out and cover my ears with my hands. If she wants me to feel sorry for her, she should think about the horrible things she’s done to my mama.
“Rachel, stop acting so childish. That is my mother you’re talking to. We’re sisters.” Tears are spilling from Marlene’s cow-eyes, a sight that’s about as rare as seeing Amish people hanging out at the shopping mall.
“We’re sisters? Since when?” I squeal, uncovering my ears. “Because ever since you stepped out with my ex, ‘sister’ is not the word I think of when it comes to you.”
“Nothing can come between us, Rachel,” she murmurs with a dazed look. “You may allow yourself to be mad about the Jeff situation, but you don’t have to be. We could work this out.”
“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say, Marlene. I just don’t. I’ve got bigger fish to fry. Plus, my food is getting cold, and I’m going to have to start the movie over again because of you. So you handle the family business, Sis!”
I swing around and storm away to my room. My legs feel like anchor weights. I grab the doorknob to close the door but decide to leave it slightly ajar. I halfheartedly resume watching the movie, but none of the characters’ dialogue makes me laugh. Instead I want to cry. I have never fought as much with my sister as I’ve fought with her this past weekend. The yelling, the insults, the mean glares and uncomfortable tension. I don’t like how things are developing between us. And even though my “sister” feels we can work it out, I cannot figure out how to make the situation better.
— 8 —
MARLENE
What Kind of Woman Am I?
Sometimes I don’t understand my sister. Sure, she may be upset right now, but when it comes to family crises, everyone normally sets aside any differences and handles issues accordingly. Rachel may talk smack about Loretta, but she can’t deny that my mama did not hesitate to help out years ago when the family went through a little crisis.
I was in middle school; Rachel was still in elementary. One humid, hot summer, Brooke practically experienced a nervous breakdown worrying about Blinky Even though she didn’t have to, Loretta took Rachel in and treated her like her own. The family thought Brooke should go away and stay at some mental institution where she could be examined. She stopped eating regularly, lost about fifteen pounds, had trouble sleeping through the night, and it was clear she wasn’t interested in raising her daughter during that time. Rachel came to live with us for about a month after her mama was diagnosed with having major depression. That isn’t a real long time, but it was long enough for Rachel to miss her mommy so much that she started calling Loretta “Mama.” She’d curl up on Loretta’s lap every night and would let my mama comb and braid her hair, give her a bubble bath, and teach her fun stuff like how to paint her tiny fingernails. Rachel’s memory may go blank about that time in our lives, but I definitely haven’t forgotten.
“Okay tell me what happened,” I say now to Loretta, holding the phone to my ear. I shut my bedroom door and sit comfortably on the floor right next to my bed.
“Naw, you know how Blinky is. He gets to drinking. His boys came over and he likes to show off. Talking loud, calling me a crazy bitch in front of everybody, and then laughing like he’s making some type of hilarious joke at my expense.”
“Okay, well, that figures; he was drunk, Loretta.”
“My thing is, if you want to drink, then you better be responsible for your actions. But he kept pushing my buttons.”
“Well, if you know Blinky gets that way maybe you should have left the house.”
“Oh, here you go repeating what your sister said.”
Although I’d never admit it to Rachel’s face, my sister does make a good point.
I take a deep breath. “Mama, how many times have you talked to young women who go to the club, they have too much to drink, then chose to leave with a man they barely know? You said a stiff drink and a stiff dick don’t mix very well. All I’m trying to say is that women, and that includes you, need to be more accountable—”
“I warned Blinky to knock it off a hundred times. I tried to leave the room. He came after me, laughing and getting aggressive with me in spite of me trying to calm his crazy ass down. Yet you’re blaming me, Marlene? I know I taught you better than that.”
“What you taught me,” I state, raising my voice, “is that the better woman always gets the man.” I can’t help myself and continue, “And sometimes in order to be the better woman you have to assess the situation and walk away before crazy things get started. Because this is the second time it’s happened.”
“I know you are not trying to lecture me; I am the mother, did you forget that?” Her voice raises an octave. “Who the hell you think you are, Marlene? I will come over there and knock the shit out of you? So what’s up?”
“Oh, and what’s that going to prove, Loretta? That we all are big and bad and full of hell and can whip each other’s butts if we have to?” Even though it’s in the past, I can’t help recall the way my sister and aunt instigated a fight with me during Blinky’s party. It was upsetting to be treated that way. I was always advised to fight my own battles and never back down from a challenge. Still, it would have been nice if my mama had been there for me, the way Brooke was for Rachel.
“Mama, why didn’t you defend me that day?” I ask in a soft voice. “The day at Blinky’s party when everyone clowned on me.”
“What? Oh!,” she remarks obviously remembering. “Girl, I had no idea it was happening at the time. Hello? I was busy outside, the music was so loud I couldn’t hear shit.”
“Still,” I mumble, “I wish you would’ve been there … wish you had a sixth sense that told you that your only daughter was in trouble only a few freaking yards away.”
Loretta, undoubtedly feeling guilty, doesn’t like what I just said and starts defending herself and yelling again, but I cut in. “Mama, listen. I’m already stressed enough as it is. Rachel’s acting crazy and that makes me act crazy. And now our parents are acting crazy. It’s embarrassing. So unreal. I need comfort, Mama; someone who understands me, not people who judge me and treat me harshly.”
“Your ass needs to be shaken around like a bag of microwave popcorn so you get some good sense, because few people understand it when you act like a fool,” she shrieks so loud I swear the speaker phone is about to break. I know Loretta’s yelling because she think she’s always right and can’t stand to hear the truth. She’s expecting me to feel sorry for her and probably wants me to call my daddy and tell him a thing or two. My mom may be twice my age, but there are times she acts my age. And when Mama gets mad at me, she gets so upset that, sooner or later, she sounds like a fool; that’s why she’s talking about the microwave popcorn mess. I know she hates for me to go on and on and on, but sometimes I can’t help but express what I think. Most of the women in my family are strong like that. We try not to keep our emotions hidden inside, where they threaten to boil over. No doubt, we are blunt, but at the same time we try to be honest and truthful. And yes, truth hurts and can uncover ugly things. Things you sometimes wish you never knew. Which reminds me, I n
eed some spiritual nourishment, and I can’t wait to go to church tonight.
Using a softer voice, I tell Loretta, “Look, Mama, I apologize if you don’t like what I’m saying, but it’s not the best time for me. I feel for you, believe me I do. Blinky was wrong, wrong, wrong. Maybe you should just leave the man altogether, yet I know how much you care about my daddy.”
“It’s about time,” she remarks, sounding much calmer. “You seem much better, more understanding. I am crazy about your daddy. I just don’t like the crazy things that go down every blue moon—”
“Mama, I gotta go—,” I interrupt, feeling the need to cut her off. “Just try to stay out of Blinky’s way. Even though you’re upset, I wouldn’t try to hit him back or anything like that. He could go ballistic, y’all could get to fighting, and I know you don’t want to end up like a couple of your clients who’ve served a lengthy jail sentence.” I hang up after quickly saying good-bye. I say a prayer that she comes to her right mind and takes time to clearly think about the situation. I pray she doesn’t hold a grudge against me. I have my mother’s back, but sometimes a daughter takes the role of a mother when needed, and this is one of those times.
I spend the next twenty minutes finding something cute to wear to church. I love dressing the part: wearing clothes that have vibrant colors and complement my figure. Even though I’m a big girl I feel I have no reason to hide. I am proud of my voluptuous arms, luscious thighs, my juicy booty, and curvy hips.
By the time I arrive at the church complex, I notice a calmness inside of me that feels like a warm blanket spreading over my soul. That’s what church tends to do to me. Gives me the center and balance that I lack. But I feel even more elated when I see Jeff’s name light up on my cell phone screen just as I’m removing my car key from the ignition.
“Hi there, Baby Doll, you miss me?”
“Um.” I giggle. I decide to stay inside my ride and chitchat. “Jeff, babe, where have you been? Not that I was worried. I just expected to hear from you by now.”
“Working hard, making that cheddar for you.”
“Oh, yeah? You’re out there making more money, huh? Well, you still could have called.”
“I am calling, Beautiful Girl. You know I can’t get through the day without hearing your precious sweet voice several times.”
“Mmm,” I say, helplessly giggling, “That sounds so good to me, it truly does.”
“What ya doing right now?”
“Well, I just got to Solomon’s Temple but I’m still in my car. They’re having their weekly women’s service tonight and—”
“Well, it’s a good thing you haven’t got out of the car yet. What are you wearing?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Does it look good? Is your outfit something that can easily fall off your body?”
“Jeff,” I shriek, blushing as if someone can hear our conversation. “You’re so nasty.”
“Aww, woman, don’t even go there trying to play that innocent church girl role. I already know you got some freak in you.”
I instantly regret telling him about Too Damn Fine. I don’t want Jeff to think I’m easy. I especially want to watch myself since Rachel thinks that the only reason Jeff is interested in me is because of sex. I have way more to offer a man besides that.
“Jeff, stop talking so naughty. Service will begin soon. I’m about to go in the building and find me a seat, but it’s good to hear from you.”
“No, you’re not about to go in the building. The only building I want you to go to is mine. Can you meet me at one of my properties? I just bought it today. That’s why you haven’t heard from me. I was closing on a deal. I’m so excited.”
“Um, shoot, I dunno—”
“Beautiful Girl, c’mon on. You’re a part of my life now. A big part.”
Mmm, wow. “Hmm, well, um …”
“Rachel always loved riding with me and seeing the properties …”
I wince and glance at the well-lit, two-story stone building. I sit in my car and watch dozens of women strut in four-inch heels; they’re sporting gorgeous outfits with Bibles clutched under their arms. Outwardly, they look just like me, yet I don’t feel like being one of them right now.
Starting my ignition, I ask Jeff for directions to his newly acquired house.
With excitement peppered in his voice, he tells me how to find a street that sounds unfamiliar located off I-10 East. We continue holding a conversation while I drive.
“Hey, I had a talk with your sister … right before I called you.”
“Oh, yeah, about what?”
“You saw her at the restaurant this morning.”
“What about it?”
“Did she mention anything to you about our conversation?”
“Not really. I know she’s still upset about me and you.”
“Well, I read her the riot act. That’s probably why she’s even more upset.”
“Oh, did you? What happened?”
“Marlene, I’ll be honest. I still have the engagement ring that I bought her. And I just happened to have it with me, in the jacket of my pocket. And I was reaching in my pocket to get something else, and I accidentally bring out the ring.”
“Hmm,” I say. “That must’ve been awkward, right?”
He laughs. “Damn, awkward isn’t the word. She misunderstood. I read it in her face, her body language.”
“You mean she thinks you still want her?”
“Exactly.”
“But you don’t?”
“I want to spend time with you, Beautiful Girl.”
“Oh, Jeff. I’m so happy to hear you say that.”
“Hey, it’s not like I hate Rachel. I will always care about her … like a sister, but not like a wife. Not anymore.”
“So does this mean your conscience is clear, Jeff? I mean, do you truly feel okay about us seeing each another?”
“Marlene, I have no doubts about seeing you, no hesitation. I think we’re all adults here … and I’d love nothing more than being around you. I think you can help me move on with my life, and make things better.”
Good Lord, I think listening to him is better than listening to Pastor Solomon. For a man to be this real, this vulnerable, I just feel overwhelmed. Rachel truly messed up letting this refreshingly honest and decent man go.
“That’s all I needed to know, Jeff,” I say, smiling.
Jeff changes the subject and continues instructing me about which exit I should take and what streets to look for as I get closer to where he’s located.
“Okay, you’re almost there,” Jeff says. “I see your car now. See me?” He flashes the headlights and hangs up. I feel excited as I drive toward the end of the street that’s filled with one-story homes that look like they’re in mediocre condition. I spot his ride and park directly across the street behind him.
I continue to sit behind the wheel of my car and wait a minute or two, but when he doesn’t get out of his car, I open my door and wait for him, standing on the driver’s side. He smiles at me from inside of Ella, looking like he just got off the phone. Rachel always said that Jeff was constantly on the phone, and his monthly cell bill runs into the hundreds.
“Hey there, Beautiful Girl,” Jeff says and gets out of the car. “You look breathtaking tonight. Thanks for coming. I know how much you love church.”
I smile and blush. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”
“Why? They do roll call or something?”
“No, silly. It’s just that, I-I’ve never done anything like this before …”
“Damn, you make a brother feel special.”
“I’m only treating you how you make me feel.”
“Got it” He winks. “I like that.”
“Is this the house?” I ask, changing the subject.
He nods and leads me toward a one-story frame house that’s an obvious fixer-upper. The outside is in desperate need of a paint job, and slabs of wood cover several missing window panes.
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“C’mere, girl.” He brings me inside, grinning wickedly. A rush of heat pours through my veins, and I feel my heart beat violently against my chest.
Surprisingly, he kisses me on the cheek and stares deep into my eyes. I stare back intensely and feel warmth surge through me again.
“You’re mine,” he whispers and kisses me again, first cupping my face in his hands, then moving in to press his thick lips squarely on mine.
How could Rachel give this up? I shut my eyes and concentrate on returning his sweet kisses with as much passion as I can. I want him to know under no uncertain terms that I am very much into him. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and squeezes tight, aggressively pulling me against his warm chest. Oh my God. My nipples are as hard as walnuts. Can he actually feel them?
Feeling self-conscious about my body, I gasp when he finally stops kissing me.
“Question. Am I too much woman for you?”
“Huh?”
“You know, Rachel has a very different … um, bone structure than me.”
“Are you calling yourself fat?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that—”
“Marlene,” Jeff says, “calm down. If I’m not able to wrap my arms around you, then you’re too big.”
He then throws his arms around me and squeezes. I am so happy to be with him. How can something that feels this good be wrong? It’s not like I get to experience this much love and affection every day of the year. And it feels so good to be loved. Not that Jeff deeply loves me, but I hope he will in time. The fact that he cared about my sister enough to propose to her tells me he isn’t afraid of love and commitment. And that’s just the kind of man I’m looking for.
He takes me by the hand and leads me into a large bedroom. When he flicks on the light, I stop in my tracks.
“What’s a bed doing here?”
“They left some of the furniture so … I think I got a helluva deal.”
“Oh.”
“I’m going to charge seven hundred a month for this baby. Plus utilities. I gotta place ads in the newspaper at the end of this week.”
