by Cydney Rax
“There she goes again, talking crazy. Oh, am I dating Felicia? For your info, Felicia is a potential tenant, okay? She lives out of town and is looking for a place to stay.”
“Whatever. I don’t care anymore.”
“I don’t care anymore, either.” He gives me one last piercing look and walks out of my room. I don’t exhale until I hear the front door slam shut.
— 19 —
RACHEL
This Situation Needs Handling
I’m deep in sleep, comfortably resting in my bed when my bedroom lights come on and I hear Marlene screaming at me.
“Rachel, get up. Jeff just left here and my purse is missing. My wallet, credit cards, driver’s license, cell phone. I know he has it.”
“Girl, what happened?” I hop out of the bed and look for a shirt and some blue jeans.
“He came by, girl, trying to do some booty-call mess, and I wasn’t having it.”
“Oh, okay,” I say, “you were actually able to resist him?”
“Girl, yes. Loretta told me that a smart woman uses sex to her advantage. That we don’t have to give it up every single time to a man just because he wants it. Well, this time I didn’t want it, and he definitely didn’t deserve it.”
“I guess he’s trying to pay you back by taking your belongings, huh? That is so wrong. Jeff is such an ass. I hate to say it, but all he cares about is himself.”
“Exactly. I may have looked at his cell phone a few times, but I’ve never thought about actually taking it. That’s stealing. He’s gone too far.”
“Let me call your cell phone.” I grab my own phone and dial Marlene’s number. It rings twice, then Jeff answers. “Hello, there.”
“Hi, Jeff,” I say calmly, even though I want to scream. “So you did take my sister’s phone. Why’d you do that?” I ask, trying to sound sweet and rational.
“I want her to know how it feels to be violated. She intentionally goes through my things. My pants pockets. You never did anything like that. I kind of regret hooking up with your sister. She’s as lame as they come. Nothing like you, Rachel.”
“I see, well, yeah, she probably shouldn’t have done all that. But, um, can I meet you somewhere so you can return her purse? Where are you now?”
It’s three in the morning. I’m sleepy and my eyelids are so heavy I probably look like I’m high on drugs. But he’s messing with my sister, and this situation needs handling regardless of how tired I am.
“I’m around the way. But I say we let her suffer.” He laughs. “What you think about that?”
“Oh, Jeff, be nice, okay. She’s sorry. She didn’t mean to go through your things. She’s just the curious type. Now, tell me where we can meet up so I can get her purse and phone, and we can forget this ever happened.”
“I’m not thinking about that girl. I’m not thinking about any girl. All y’all have issues.”
I don’t say a word. Let Jeff do all the talking. The more he opens up his mouth, the more I’ll find out everything I need to know.
Marlene leaves the room. I am fully dressed and ready to go, but I have no idea where to start, or where he could be.
“Women play games. They’re teases. Did you know that, Rach?”
“Well, every woman doesn’t know how to treat a man like yourself, Jeff. You’re in an altogether different league.”
“Yeah, you’re right. You know, I think you’re the only woman who really understood me and had my back. You never nagged me about my real estate stuff.”
What’s he talking about? Yes, I did.
“You acted secure. Had your own thing going. I guess you just weren’t ready to jump that broom with a brotha. But I would have waited for you, Rachel. As long as you wanted to wait.” His voice catches. “I would have waited for you, only you, my dear Rachel.”
“That’s so sweet, Jeff. Maybe we can talk about this. Would you like to do that? Let’s meet at our spot. Do you know the place I’m talking about?” I grab my purse and jacket and turn off my bedroom light. When I get to the living room, Marlene is pacing the floor. She sees me gesture at her, and we leave the apartment together.
The night is chilly, and I can see white clouds hovering over the early morning sky. The stars are blinking brightly in the night, and it sounds so quiet right now it’s like we’re deep in the country.
“Jeff, we can talk about things and take care of unfinished business—”
“What do you mean?” His voice is sharp, cautious.
“Um, I mean that this is our time to straighten out any issues we’ve had. Air out our differences and make sure we part as friends, good friends. No hard feelings.”
“Hmm, okay. I am a bit hungry. It’s been a long, stressful evening.”
I keep talking to Jeff and listening to him say random things. Marlene and I get in my car, and I start the engine. Soon I’m on Highway 6. But one mile before I get to my destination, I pull over to an empty parking lot and let the car idle. I make little sounds like I’m listening to Jeff talk, but I also signal to Marlene. I open up my purse. Right on top is a Taser gun that I got at a pawn shop last night. Even though I learned a few tips through my self-defense class, I’m not sure I totally know how to use it, but that doesn’t concern me. The second I get Marlene’s stuff from Jeff, I’m going to try my best to use the gun on him. I want to hear him scream like he’s never screamed before.
“Jeff, can I put you on hold for a second? Don’t hang up. I’m almost there.” I press the mute button and look at Marlene. “Okay, girl, here’s our chance. I hate to do this, but we’ve got to make Jeff suffer for everything he’s done. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, I do. I’m pissed at him, hurt by his actions. He disrespected me big time, and I won’t stand for it. I’ve never been treated so rudely by a man in my life. Never again.”
“I’m with you.”
Before I can reconnect with Jeff, Marlene touches my hand and gives me a small grin, “Thanks, Sis.”
“No problem. Now recline your seat all the way back so Jeff won’t see you. I don’t want him to know I’m up to something. You’ll have to sit tight while I handle things.”
I get Jeff back on the line. “Are you at Waffle House yet? Oh, I can’t wait to get some coffee, some of those grits, bacon. It’ll be like the good ole days.”
“Yeah.” He pauses. “Do you know I still have your ring in my pocket? That I never stopped loving you, Rachel?”
I wait to hear what else he has to say.
“Yeah, so, it’s like I’m carrying you around with me. Not like I got anybody else to carry around with me,” he says and laughs bitterly. “Yep, your sister is fucked up. She’s a fat fuck, but you know, it was my first time with a big girl. Big girls need love too, ya know?”
I grit my teeth and make a right turn, slowly driving into the Waffle House parking lot. There are a few cars in the lot, and the tiny restaurant is lit up. I drive all the way to the end of the lot and back into my space so I can monitor the area. Soon Jeff’s Mach 1 pulls into the lot. He flashes his lights at me. His car slowly creeps through the lot. I can tell he’s about to park at an angle, something he always does.
That pisses me off. The more I think about how possessive he is over a car, the madder I get. Why am I going through this? Trying to sweet talk him into giving me my sister’s purse. If it weren’t for both of them, I wouldn’t be in this mess. And seeing Jeff makes my stomach churn when I imagine how he put his lips on my mother. How dare he! I think about how badly he treated me and the anger I’ve felt lately even from the racial incidents that have happened. The lady who ignored me in the pharmacy, the waitress at the restaurant who accused me of being cheap. Who the hell does everyone think they are?
I glance at Marlene, who is leaning back in her seat. I reach in my purse and feel around until my fingers grab the Taser gun. Jeff steps out of the car. He’s carrying Marlene’s purse. He stands there. Looks like he’s reaching for his cell phone. I place the Taser gun in m
y jacket pocket and get out of the car but leave the keys in the ignition. Marlene sits up slightly so she can see what’s happening.
I start taking slow, measured steps toward Jeff. His cell is pressed against his ear. I see he’s on the phone, and I wonder who he’s talking to at this ungodly hour. He’s standing next to his car. His precious car. I walk a few steps in his direction and watch him. Take another step and wait a couple minutes to see if he’s going to eventually get off the phone. After a while I hear rubber burning. It sounds loud, like screeching tires. Suddenly an SUV whips out of the parking space next to my car. It rocks wildly and heads straight for Jeff.
Jeff looks up and yells, “Nooo, Felicia.” He drops his phone. The driver of the SUV jumps out of the car and rolls on the ground. The SUV plunges directly into Ella, knocking it two spaces over. Soon I hear explosions. A tower of fire roars up and engulfs Jeff’s car. Jeff screams, “Nooo,” and runs right into the flames.
My legs hurriedly move toward the car. “No, Jeff, stay back. Noooo!” More explosions. I stop running. Bloodcurdling screams fill the air. Yelling and cursing and agony. The fire and smoke climb the air. The smell of death clogs my nose. The worst smell I’ve ever encountered in my life. Someone runs outside from the Waffle House. “Call the police,” he yells. I can’t move. I can’t think. I see a figure fall to the ground, next to the car. Remnants of cash dance in the fumes. Pieces of debris fly about. I fall to my knees. Close my eyes. Think about how Jeffrey Williams just lost his money, his car, and all his women.
I beat my fists against the concrete and howl until there’s nothing left in me to scream about.
— 20 —
RACHEL
Daughter, You Are Forgiven
It’s one week later. Marlene, Aunt Perry, and I are at Solomon’s Temple. We’re sitting in the pews surrounded by hundreds of females and a few dozen men who are filling in as ushers and attendants so the women can enjoy this Women’s Conference. I feel so numb. Yet I had to get out of the house. Jeff’s funeral was yesterday. I didn’t want to attend, but Blinky encouraged me to go.
Everything happened so fast that night. The fire trucks, ambulance, police cars soon surrounded the restaurant. I could barely talk intelligibly to the officers. I didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t understand what had happened. But Marlene explained it all to me. She saw way more than I did. She told me that while I was busy trying to get to Jeff, the SUV pulled up next to my car. A pretty but crazed-looking woman got out of the SUV and tapped on the passenger window. She knew who Marlene was. Said her name was Felicia. She and Jeff had been together the night he came to see my sister. Said they got into a fight. She was sick of his ways. Felicia told Marlene that she found out Jeff was dating other women and borrowing money from her to pay for all his hot dates. She accused him of being selfish and greedy for hoarding his own money yet sweet-talking her out of her own money so he could be a baller. Felicia was furious when she learned how she’d been used. They’d known each other three months but had been engaged only a couple of weeks. But last night Jeff took the eighteen-carat white gold engagement ring back from her. Said he was in love with another woman. She followed him to my and Marlene’s place and waited outside in the car, fuming mad and plotting her revenge. Then she blankly stared at my sister and told her, “Stay away from my fiancé.”
That’s when Felicia got back in the SUV and sat a couple of minutes before gunning the engine and ramming her vehicle into Jeff’s. Marlene never did get her purse, wallet, or cell phone. Jeff never paid her money back, either, but all that is replaceable. She has her life, her self-esteem, and more important, Marlene still has her soul.
Felicia was arrested on the spot. Jeff is now six feet in the ground. And my sister and I are trying to get our lives straight. Trying to make sense of the craziness.
So here we are. At church. Listening to speakers. Desperate for a change.
Sister Palmer is standing in front of the church. She walks and talks, stops and looks at the audience. She’s bold, powerful, fiery, and honest. “I’m all about women power,” she states. “Women have got to start having each other’s back instead of stabbing each other in the back. Yes, you want to have the love of a man, but no, ladies, that love doesn’t have to come from another sister’s man. You don’t have the right to flirt with, sleep with, hang out with, and follow up on some guy’s attraction to you just because. Leave her man alone and happiness will spring in your direction. The things you give out are going to come back to you. You messing with someone’s man? You may find your own man someday, and lo and behold, a sister ten years younger than you is going to develop a secret relationship with your guy. She will feel it is her right; she will become to your husband what you were to someone else’s husband ten years ago. It’s a vicious cycle, but it can be broken. Get up right now, walk across this room, and apologize to every woman who has a husband who you’ve flirted with, texted, posted flirty comments to on his MySpace page, or given a ‘church’ hug that was a little bit too tight. Go on, get up; don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Sister Palmer turns around and faces everyone and says, “Watch this.” She walks over to the first pew and stands before the first lady of the church, Mrs. Solomon, and hugs her. Tells her “I’m sorry. Pastor is yours, not mine, he’s not mine.” One by one teary-eyed women get up out of their seats and awkwardly line up in a single row to hug the pastor’s wife. I can’t believe all those ladies openly admit they lust after the pastor.
While I know I’m not qualified to get up and hug Mrs. Solomon, I look around and search the crowd for someone else. Sister Maria Johnson sits alone dabbing at her eyes with her closed fist. I take a deep breath and find myself purposely sitting next to her. I stare in her eyes, so afraid to talk. She looks at me, eyes enlarged. When I nod, her head drops to her chest. I place my hand on her arm, fingers trembling. I tap and nudge her, and she finally stands up and falls into my arms.
“I’m sorry, so sorry, Sister Maria.”
She buries her head in my shoulders, covering her tear-streamed face with her hands, just nodding over and over again.
A flood of memories causes me to squeeze her harder. Sister Maria is a widow, but my little flirtation with her husband happened when I was almost out of my teens. He was a deacon and I was a shy girl who thought he looked cute. He started talking to me after church when no one else was around, trying to bring me out of my shell. His attention made me feel special, important, cared about. So one Sunday afternoon when we thought no one was looking, I kissed him back when I saw his lips coming toward mine. He held me tight in his arms, and I imagined that he was my first boyfriend, my first lover, my husband to be. It was the second time I had felt a man’s tongue in my mouth. It felt good, yet it felt bad. I pushed him off me after the kiss lasted too long. We never touched each other again, but I could never look his wife in her face after that. She was always so sweet and kind, and I felt so guilty knowing I had this secret.
That’s another reason why it became too hard for me to continue going to church with a clear conscience. I knew God was aware of what I did, and I was too afraid of being exposed. Yet right now, the feeling of being exposed along with so many other women doesn’t feel as horrible as I’ve imagined all these years. It feels like I’ve stepped inside a great big shower. It’s like buckets of clean water are splashing on top of me and rinsing me off from head to toe. The bad feeling is being washed away, and my heart feels much lighter, less burdened than it has felt in years.
Soon I stop concentrating so much on myself, and my ears tune in to the noise in the room. Women weeping, ladies perched on their knees, some bending over clutching their stomachs moaning and groaning, sounding like slaves wailing on a plantation. Shamefaced women crying out to God begging, “Save me, Lord. Forgive me, Lord, cleanse me, oh God.” My legs start shaking uncontrollably. What’s wrong with me? I thought this feeling would be over by now, yet my body can’t possibly be displaying wha
t I’ve tried to hide inside of me.
Suddenly a lady who I don’t know walks over to me, staring at me as she walks in a circle.
“Sister, may I pray for you?”
I just nod, too scared to say anything.
She steps up to me and lays her hand on my forehead while quietly praying, which makes me feel thankful. I hear her say, “God give your daughter direction, wisdom, and guidance; oh Father, strengthen her with your peace, your joy and your truth. Make her the strong woman you created her to be. And release her from any guilt, any age-old guilt she may feel.”
Legs still shaking, I nod my head with my eyes closed tight. The lady stops praying and holds me in her arms as if I were a baby. “Daughter, you are forgiven.”
Listening to her makes me feel like God is speaking directly to me.
I thank her and turn around to go back to my seat. Quietly reflecting on what just happened and what it means. If God can forgive me, I can forgive my mama. I won’t forget what she did, but we’re going to get past it. Plus, I need her. I still love her.
Soon the sounds of crying and wailing fall to complete silence.
You could hear a pin drop. We all wait in utter anxiety about what is to happen next.
With her hands clasped together, Sister Palmer strides to the front of the church and stands in silence for a full five minutes. When she does speak, she boldly eyes the audience.
“Ladies, I am so grateful and so encouraged by what happened here today. Do not let this moment pass; don’t let it be in vain. You’ve gained knowledge and strength that will positively affect you for the rest of your lives, just don’t get caught up anymore. Make it your business to enjoy the newness of your empowered spirit from this moment forward. But I must say that I sense that many of you have questions. I sense in the spirit that some of you wonder why woman are agreeing to be accountable for flirting with the brothers, with someone’s husband or boyfriend. And you wonder why men don’t have to also watch what they do with other woman. Why you ask, is it a woman’s responsibility?
