My Sister’s Ex: A Novel

by Cydney Rax

  “But I wanna talk to you.”

  “Talk to Marlene.”

  “I want to talk to you.”

  I sigh. Tremble.

  “Just hear me out,” he pleads.

  “Okay,” I say, my back stiff with tension.

  “Every time I’m with her,” he whispers, “I think of you. It’s like, when I am with her I’m finishing up what you and I started.”

  “Jeff, no. Don’t do that. It’s not fair to you, to her. Me.”

  “Listen. I know it sounds strange, but I need to do this.”

  I turn around. “You are going to hurt her, you know that, don’t you?”

  He looks exasperated. I can see his love for me all in his eyes. It makes me want to protect Marlene. But she’s too far gone for me to do anything meaningful. She’ll misinterpret my every action. So, as much as I hate what’s happening, my hands are tied as tight as a drum.

  I think of something quick.

  “Um, Jeff, I know you are really bothered by the breakup. I totally understand. This has been difficult for both of us.”

  “Yes, it has. You don’t know what kind of effect you had on me.”

  “And it kills me to see you with her. Truly.”

  He stares down at me with puppy-dog eyes.

  “Come closer,” I say to him. He takes one step toward me.

  “Closer.”

  Another step.

  Praying my plan will work, I wrap my arms tight around his neck. I stare up at him; his cheek is so close it nearly brushes against mine.

  “Is it okay if I do this?”

  He nods.

  “I miss you, honey. Miss your lips, your touch.”

  The front door opens, but I continue talking softly to Jeff.

  “Let’s make up, start over from scratch.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Hug me,” I say.

  He hesitates, then wraps his arms around my waist. I squeeze him tight, closing my eyes, and pull his body against mine. He has on a long-sleeved cotton shirt and a pair of blue jeans. I moan like I’m having an orgasm. I rub my fingers across his shoulders, arms, press myself deeper against him. Our pelvises touch. I can feel his erection growing between us.

  “Rachel?” Alita says. I ignore her, look at Jeff. His eyes are shut tight, mouth open. I’m taking him there.

  I slide my arms down his back, grab his ass and squeeze. He moans, “Oh, God.”

  I take a deep breath, and rub his butt, then place both my hands on his jeans pockets. I feel around until I touch a small, hard object. I reach inside his pocket and pull out my ring.

  “Jeff.” I hear Marlene’s shrill voice coming from the hallway.

  Alita locks eyes with me. I nod. She rushes in Marlene’s direction. I hear a door slam shut.

  “Honey,” I whisper. “Do you really want to be with her, or do you want to marry me?”

  “Rachel, I want to marry you!”

  I push him off me and back away. He looks hurt, confused.

  I am so angry I can’t speak. His actions tell me he is definitely not serious about Marlene. But I don’t want him thinking he wants me, either.

  “What are you doing?” he asks. “You’re playing some kind of game, huh, Rachel?”

  “No, you’re the one playing games. Stay the fuck away from my sister.”

  “Y-you’re crazy, Rachel. Give me back my ring.”

  I feel like running outside and throwing it in the bushes, but when I hear Marlene arguing with Alita, frustration makes me say fuck it. She’s in too deep. I can do everything I can on her behalf, but if she’s not willing to listen she’ll have to learn the hard way. I hand the ring back over to Jeff.

  Minutes later she emerges from her bedroom, Alita running behind her. I motion with my eyes to forget it, damage has been done.

  Even though I was nervous about it, my plan was for Jeff to at least show me he’s true to my sister, by not falling for my little seductress act. If he would have rejected me, I could have told her he might be serious after all. But now I know the truth about his intentions. I watch Jeff conjure up a fake smile. Observe him wrap his lanky arm around Marlene’s wide shoulders. He waves bye to Alita but ignores me. And he and my sister walk out the front door.

  As soon as they leave the apartment, Alita asks, “Now are you ready to sign up for some online dating?”

  — 10 —

  MARLENE

  I’m Definitely Not Rachel

  I can’t believe I’m doing this. This is the thought that repeatedly enters into my brain. It’s midafternoon on Saturday several hours after we left Rachel and Alita at the apartment. I am lying down on a massage bed. All I can see are white lights. Silas, a skinny body artist with long stringy brown hair that covers one eye, has rubbed alcohol on the upper part of my right breast. My cheeks are burning red and hot. Humiliation. But also some fear. Why does the needle sound so terrifying? It’s buzzing really loudly and reminds me of Blinky’s electric razor. Silas carefully dips the needle in black ink and places one drop on his own skin to test it.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Jeff asks, smiling down at me. His eyes display both concern and excitement.

  “I’m good. Let’s do this. It’s the Jeffrey Williams way.”

  We laugh.

  Silas leans over me and secures a thin sheet of carbon paper above my nipple. He carefully traces a picture of a heart on top of my breast. My new heart will be about the size of two fifty-cent pieces. I also instruct Silas to put interlocking letters, “M&J,” on top of the heart, but the letters should be in red ink. Using the needle, Silas hums along to an old Springsteen song blaring from a transistor radio. He rocks his head to the beat and follows the lines of the tracing, then picks up the needle. Ready or not, here I come. The needle sounds loud as hell, and when the tip finally meets my skin, it feels like a big staple is scraping across my breast.

  “Ouch,” I say and try to remain still.

  “Sorry,” Silas remarks and continues bobbing his head to the music.

  Besides me and Silas, the only other person in the room is Jeff. Last night, when Jeff first brought up the body art idea, he told me when it’s your first time, it’s normal to bring lots of supporters: family, friends, people who can provide comfort while you go through the tattoo experience. But I couldn’t think of one person who I thought would be happy for me, including Loretta. When I called her this morning and excitedly told her my plans, first thing she said to me was “You sound like a damn fool. I didn’t raise you to be no fool.”

  “Huh,” I said, instantly annoyed. “What?”

  “A real woman loves her man and is down for him, but a tat? Isn’t that for, like, men who are hanging around a prison yard lifting weights and plotting their escape?”

  I laughed at her naiveté. “No, Mama, that’s a stupid B movie stereotype. Everybody gets tats these days. A lot of celebrities and basketball players have them.”

  “Marlene, you are hardly a celebrity. And I have never seen you running up and down a court bouncing a ball—”

  “Even Blinky has one.”

  “Girl, Blinky got that ugly-ass thing when he got out of the service years ago. He ain’t trying to make no statement or nothing, but I guess you are.”

  “Well, Mama, I do love Jeff and he loves—.”

  “What you say? You say he loves you? Ha ha ha,” she cackled. “Ooo, my precious dumb daughter, you have a lot to learn.”

  “Mama,” I whined. “I thought you were for us, on my side. I don’t like hearing you talk like this. I am not dumb.”

  “Well, a few punches upside my head are causing me to think a little more straight these days. That’s about the only good thing I’m getting out of what happened.”

  Blinky doesn’t know it, but Loretta has recently been thinking about kicking him out. Except she got fired from her job last week for being extra pushy with her advice to a client, so now she must rely on him more to pay the rent, buy groc
eries, and fill up her tank with gas so she can drive around in her big ole four-door Chrysler. I made the mistake of telling Loretta that Blinky might sock her again since her joblessness has him stressing about money and bills.

  “Shut the hell up,” she said, cutting me off and proceeding to curse me out until I hung up on her. I haven’t mentioned her jobless situation since.

  And those incidents is probably the main reason why I didn’t invite Loretta to be with me while I get my first tat. She’ll automatically say it’s a “damn good waste of money” or something to that effect. And personally I don’t care to hear her or anyone else’s negativity. I consider myself grown, so I think by now I should know what I’m doing.

  “That’s going to be awesome when it’s done,” Jeff says, a glint of happiness spilling from his eyes.

  “I know it is, babe. We gotta go celebrate, too. My treat.”

  “No, no, no, my treat. You paid for our dinner last time, so I insist.”

  “Okay, cool. I won’t argue with you,” I say and laugh, but stiffen up a bit, being overly paranoid that something might go wrong with the tat.

  Another hour passes and then we’re done. Silas quickly cleans off the tat with some rubbing alcohol, then applies A&D ointment, a scar-healing cream that feels slightly cold on my skin.

  I sit up. But before I can even get off the table, Silas says, “Do you mind if I take a photo for my portfolio?”

  “Suit yourself,” I tell him and pose for a picture.

  Jeff reaches in his wallet and hands Silas two twenties. We admire the fancywork for a minute, then head out to the parking lot. We drove over here in Ella. I can tell that Jeff’s in a good mood, because whenever he feels good, he likes to whip around in his favorite car. Plus it’s super sunny in Houston this afternoon, perfect for riding in a convertible. The sun blazes so brightly, I take it as an omen that my future is so bright, nothing but good can happen from now on.

  When we stop at the side of the car, Jeff grabs my hand in his and kisses me fully on the lips. I’m surprised by his sudden display of affection, but I close my eyes and kiss him back. Anything he gives me, I want to return it to him 100 percent.

  “You’re the best, Marlene. I love that about you. You’re down for whatever. No arguing, no drama.” He looks amazed. “Do you realize since we’ve been hanging out we’ve never even had a half of an argument? Unreal,” he mutters, shaking his head. Then he grimaces as if he’s sick or has gas or something.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. I got everything in my pocketbook. Tums, migraine medicine, vitamins, cold and flu pills.”

  “No, no thank you. The thing I got can’t be cured by anything that’s in your purse.”

  “Oh,” I say flatly.

  “Let’s ride.”

  When he opens the car door, he instructs me, “Don’t put your purse on the floor like you did last time. Some of your stuff fell out …”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “No, it’s just that I had to spend time wiping up lotion off my carpet. It’ll never be the same again, you know what I’m saying?”

  “Ahh, yeah. I know what you’re saying,” I say sweetly. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “No, no, it’s cool.” By now he’s hopped in on the driver’s side, and he waits a few seconds before starting the car, then drives off. I notice that about him. It seems like he says a quick prayer every time we get in the car. Like he wants the Lord to protect us or something. I think it’s a good idea for him to pray even for a few seconds, because I need all the prayer I can get.

  “So we gonna hang out? You gonna hang out with me? You wanna do that, Beautiful Girl?”

  Blushing, I say, “Uh, you know I wanna be with you. I don’t care what we do.”

  “You sure?” He winks.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Good, because I am hungry again and want to grab a bite to eat. Then I need to make a run on the south side. Gotta pick up some rent from a tenant who’s late.”

  “Oh, yeah? Who is that?”

  “Some lady who’s been with me for about eight months. She had been doing pretty well, you know what I’m saying, but I guess she’s been having some issues lately. Hey, I don’t care about all your personal problems. I need to get my money.”

  “Wow, I’m so proud of you, Jeff. You are so business-minded. A lot of the guys I’ve known have been very irresponsible.

  They either live with their mom who pays for everything, or they have roommates who fight over the bills. It was a mess. I would tell some of them, ‘If you can’t take care of yourself, how on earth can you take care of me?’”

  “Yeah, well, that’s the difference between a boy and a man. A real man handles his business. And I, young lady, am a real man. I guess you know that already, huh?” He gives me a wicked grin, and I blush some more, looking like a big fool.

  “Oh, you must be talking about—.”

  “Popping that cherry, and believe me your cherry is sweet, hot, and juicyyy.”

  “Jeff,” I squeal. “Hush.”

  “Oh, what? Are you ashamed of making love to your man or something? Hey, if you got it good like that you need to tell somebody. Make it known that you got a good man.”

  “Jeff.” I laugh. “My mama told me to never tell another woman all the details of all the good things your good man does … so I won’t be spreading the good word anytime soon.”

  “Hmm, interesting,” he says, and his face grows serious. He doesn’t say anything else to me until we get to the restaurant. We stop by Murphy’s Deli and order some French onion soup, turkey pitas, and drinks to go. I’m glad Jeff wanted to get some food, since I didn’t feel like eating any of Rachel’s.

  “I hate to eat and drive,” he explains once we’re back in the car, “but I need to meet this lady.”

  “Oh,” I say and get a bright idea. I grab the Murphy Deli’s bag that’s sitting on a blanket on the back seat and remove one of the pitas.

  “What are you doing?” he barks while driving.

  “I’m taking care of you.”

  I carefully peel back some of the paper that’s wrapped around the pita and order Jeff, “Open your mouth.”

  “What?” he screeches. “Don’t do that!”

  “Huh?”

  “Put that shit, I mean, set that food back in the bag. We’ll eat when we get to the house.”

  “But I thought—.”

  “Look, I’m hungry but not that hungry,” he remarks, looking worried. “And if you are, you’ll just have to exercise some patience. We’ll be there in twenty. If you want to sip on that bottled water, that’s okay. Just make sure to use that straw.”

  “Oh—” I give him a blank stare.

  “Did you hear what I said? Just be a sweetie and put the food back in the bag. Hurry, before tomatoes and lettuce fall out and make a mess.”

  “Yeah, right. It’s cool.”

  Inside I’m rolling my eyes, but on the outside I’ll be sure to let him see me doing what he wants.

  Just as he predicted, we arrive at one of his rental properties twenty minutes later. This property is located near Hobby Airport. It’s a one-story duplex that is in bad need of paint. The grass looks like it hasn’t been mowed in weeks.

  When we pull up in the narrow driveway, a brown-skinned lady with a short Afro is standing behind an old black Nissan Sentra that’s parked in front of us. We step out of the car. I see at least three other little heads through the back of the Sentra.

  “Damn, Jeff, it took you long enough.”

  “Hey, Lola, I don’t wanna hear all that. If you made me wait for my rent, then you can wait, too.”

  “Shit, I got better things to do and—.”

  “I don’t wanna hear it. Where’s the rent? It’s five dollars extra a day every day that you’re late, so you owe me seven hundred thirty-five.”

  She frown
s and rolls her eyes. Reaches in her tiny purse and pulls out a crumpled check.

  “What the fuck is this? I told you cash only or a money order. I don’t want your bouncy checks, Lola.”

  “I didn’t have time to go to the bank or nothing, so take it or leave it.”

  Jeff’s veins pop through his forehead looking like snakes crawling under his skin. He quietly swears under his breath.

  “Don’t tell me you wasted my time and gas making me fly over here and almost getting into an accident to get my money, and your money is acting funny. I don’t do personal checks, Lola, you know this.”

  “Damn, Jeff, I got bills to pay, you not the only one with your hand stuck out. My baby daddy skipped out on child support, and I had to scrape up money the best way I can. My sister loaned me some money, but she gave me a check … that’s why I’m giving you a check.”

  “Which sister?”

  “Bunny.”

  “Sweaty Drawers?” He grins.

  Lola holds her hand over her mouth and giggles. “Ooo, you know you wrong about that. She lost ten pounds recently, so she ain’t as big as she used to be.” Lola eyes me curiously. “She about the size of this chick,” she says and nods at me.

  “Anyway,” Jeff says loudly. “Bunny is cool, but Lo, you know how I do. I wish you would’ve taken time to draw the money out the bank.”

  “I know, baby, I know, but I’ll do that next time, I swear to God.”

  She smiles encouragingly at Jeff, and his scowl gradually turns into a toothy grin.

  “All right,” he says and snatches the check from her. “How’re the kids?”

  “Bad as hell. I’m about to take ’em to their Nanny, and then I gots to go to my second job. Damn shame, if their daddy would pay the child support like he’s supposed to I wouldn’t have to take a second job working at the damn Taco Bell.”

  “I bet you look real fine in that uniform, Lo.”

  “Whatever, Jeff. I’ll be talking to you. Give me a call sometime. You know how to reach me.” She gives me a piercing, nasty look and twists her butt around, switching all the way to her car.

  Jeff and I stand there looking at each other. “See what I go through?”