Casting Down Imaginations

by LaShanda Michelle

  “What’d you say your name was again?”

  “Anaya.”

  “That will be all, Anaya,” he said, and went back to his work.

  Paranoid, I left to go deliver the bag.

  **********

  I stood still as Jeff pulled away from me. I was so disgusted by what I had just done that I tasted vomit in my mouth.

  I went and dropped the bag off just like he asked me to, and came back in hopes that he would simply give me the money he said he would with no drama. I should have been more specific in my mental request. He wanted his time with me. And to him, time equated to sex.

  I protested as much as I could, but he made it pretty clear that the only way I was going to get that money was if I gave him what he wanted. I wanted to curse him out and let him know that I was too good to be anybody’s prostitute, but this was the closest I’d been to any money on my own, and I knew if I didn’t have five hundred dollars by Friday I was going to be homeless. Plus the job as a dancer could pay a thousand dollars a night, and I needed it. So I swallowed my pride and did what I had to do. It was the most degrading experience of my entire life. Worse than Reese, worse than the abortion. I kept my eyes closed the whole time and pretended to be somewhere else in an effort to keep what little sanity I had left.

  “Here’s your money,” I heard him say.

  I finally opened my eyes and let them rest on the floor. I refused to cry in front of this bastard, but I wanted to so bad.

  “I think you made the best choice,” he said. “You’re young. You need to know that you ain’t gon’ never get nothing in this world for free. You got that? When you ain’t got nothing, you gotta use the only thing you got.”

  The tears finally fell, but I didn’t make a sound. I wiped them away before he could see them and grabbed my purse and the stack of twenty dollar bills sitting on the edge of his desk and hurried to leave his office. Just as I opened the door a woman dressed only in a pair of shorts that left half of her bottom out and a pair of platform boots rushed in past me.

  “Jeff, I need to talk to you about my money,” she said.

  I looked at her, then at him for the first time. He had a smug look on his face, and I knew then that he’d lied to me. This place wasn’t the super extravagant place that he told me it was. It was just another strip club.

  “You bastard,” I growled at him.

  He smiled at me and said, “See you Friday at eight.”

  “Oh, is she gonna replace Candy?” the naked girl asked.

  Jeff nodded. “Hopefully,” he said and winked at me.

  I turned around and left before I attacked him.

  **********

  As I drove home I tried my best to get what just happened out of my mind. I arrived home to find two men hauling my living room sofa into the back of a moving truck. I pulled up behind them in haste and jumped out of my car.

  “What are you doing?” I screamed at them.

  “Hey, get back lady. We got a job to do,” one of them snarled at me.

  “What are you doing? That’s my couch!”

  He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket and waved it in my face. “Not according to this. I got strict orders to come up here and get this stuff ‘cause you didn’t pay your bill.”

  I huffed, seeing that I wasn’t going to get anywhere with him. I ran to my apartment where I saw Mr. Pier letting two other men carry out my bed.

  “Whoa!” I yelled at them. “Stop it! Put that back!”

  They kept going like they didn’t even hear me.

  “I said stop!” I yelled, but it was to no avail. Angry, I turned to Mr. Pier. “What are you doing?” I asked him.

  “I’m letting these men do their jobs,” he answered. “I’m not about to have this truck coming to my apartment building every day because you won’t pay your bills.”

  “Ugh!” I screamed, disgusted with his attitude. “How are you just gonna open my apartment for them? That’s against the law. You can’t do that!”

  I watched in despair as two men walked out carrying my kitchen table.

  “Hey, don’t yell at me,” he said. “This is my apartment building and I can do whatever I want. I only look out for paying tenants. And you have until Friday to give me my money, or you’re out, too!”

  “Take your stupid money!” I yelled. I pulled the thick wad of cash I’d just earned out of my purse and waved it in his face.

  “I want my money—”

  I threw it at him before he could finish and ran inside. The only things left were the kitchen chairs. As I stood there and watched, the same man that waved his repossession orders in my face came in and took them away.

  I wanted to scream. I wanted to curse and kick and scream and have an all out tantrum. I wanted to fight. But all I could do was collapse on the floor. The beautiful apartment that I was so happy to own before was now just a bare empty place. Almost like my heart.

  “Next month’s rent better be on time,” Mr. Pier warned me from his stance, then closed the door and walked away.

  I felt low. I felt lower than low. The only thing that could possibly make me feel better was either a pound of weed or a pint of alcohol. I had neither, so I had no choice but to keep laying there and cry myself to sleep.

  thirty four

  Karen

  I just want to take care of you…

  Those were the words Terrance told me only minutes ago. Right after he picked me up from the library and brought me back to the dinner that he cooked for me. Right after he fed me chocolate covered strawberries and rubbed my feet. Right after he promised me that if I would agree to be with him, he would give me the world. Right after I cried.

  Terrance really did love me. He bought me a brand new bedroom set earlier this week, and a car. Not an expensive car, but it was a car nonetheless, and I was on his insurance. He was being a man, taking care of me, and a part of me wanted to accept him the way that he was because of all that he had done for me.

  But the more he kissed me, the more something inside told me things just weren’t right. I just didn’t know if his love was enough. Could it make up for all of the times that he hurt me? Could it replace the wound in my heart from the death of our child?

  “Terrance…” I managed to whisper between kisses.

  I was trying to get him to stop kissing me, but he kept going, from my mouth to my neck moving very slowly and taking his time. My mind was telling me this was wrong, but he felt so good. His arms as I rubbed them, his tongue as it grazed a sensitive spot, the breath from his nostrils as he entertained every last one of my senses.

  But something was wrong.

  “Terrance...”

  “Quit talking,” he whispered to me, and began to press against me.

  I took a deep breath, caught off guard by his excitement. He was serious. He wanted me.

  Oh no. How did I get myself in this situation again?

  “You know you want to,” he said softly, pressing harder and wrapping my legs around him.

  I did. I really, really, really did. I wanted to get lost in him. I wanted to just close my eyes and let him have his way with me and pretend that everything was okay. But I just couldn’t.

  “I can’t,” I said aloud, letting go of his arm and covering my eyes with my hand. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t see his face full of disappointment again.

  He stopped. “I knew it,” he said angrily, and got up.

  “Terrance,” I whined softly. I hated when he got mad at me. “I’m sorry.”

  “You think this is a game?” he asked angrily.

  “No.”

  “Why you keep playin’ wit’ me, Karen? You think this is funny?”

  “No,” I insisted. “I just…”

  “You just what?”

  “I can’t do this, Terrance.”

  “Yes, you can. I don’t get you, Karen. Why you keep playin’ wit’ my emotions? I’m a man. I can’t take being played with.”

  “I�
��m sorry!” I cried. “I just can’t help it, Terrance.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because. You keep doing stuff.”

  “What have I been doing, besides being there for you? I let you move in with me, didn’t I? Don’t I treat you nice? Don’t I take you out and feed you? I’m tryna’ take care of you, girl.”

  “I know, and I appreciate it. I really do.”

  He sighed and looked away. “Then why you ain’t tryin’ to be wit’ me?”

  Pain came to my chest at his words. “Is that what you think?” I asked.

  He didn’t answer. I crawled next to him on the couch. I hated to see him sad like this.

  “Terrance, I do want to be with you.”

  He pulled away. “Don’t try to play me.”

  “I’m serious,” I persisted, and forced him to look me in the eye.

  He chuckled. “You got a funny way of showing it, Mama.”

  “Terrance, I do want you. But I just can’t do things the way we used to anymore.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I ain’t never seen nobody trip on God the way you do. You act like you a nun or something.”

  I laughed at his comparison.

  “It’s not funny. Don’t you know I got needs?”

  I became serious again. “I do know you have needs, Terrance, and I’m sorry. But I gotta be me, and this is me. Celibate.”

  He buried his head in his hands. “Awh man,” he muffled. “I can’t believe this.”

  I scooted closer to him. “What?”

  “This. You… Like this… I mean, damn, girl.” He burst into laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked, almost laughing with him.

  He kept laughing. “You. I mean, damn, baby. Back in the day, you…”

  “I what?”

  “You didn’t used to be nothing like this!” he kept laughing. “I mean, look at you. You all covered up now. The old Karen used to wear them low cut shirts, that used to have your boobs poking out like BAM!” he exclaimed.

  “No I didn’t,” I laughed, even though I knew it was true.

  “Stop lying, you know I’m telling the truth,” he continued. “And you used to wear them miniskirts, showing off them fine legs you got.”

  I shook my head, not wanting to go that far down memory lane.

  “I thought church girls were supposed to wear skirts. Where yours at?”

  “You trippin’,” I dismissed him. “For real.”

  “Uh huh,” he chuckled, then became serious and stroked my face.

  “What happened to my girl?”

  I took a few moments to answer. “She’s gone.”

  He licked his lips. “I want her back.”

  “She’s not coming back,” I whispered.

  “Umph,” he grunted. “I sho’ll do miss her,” he said. “That girl was my baby. She used to be down for whatever. Whenever. Remember that time we skipped school and did it in the park down the street?”

  It was a moment from my past that I wasn’t exactly proud of. But it was just that, my past. And I didn’t feel guilty about it.

  “Why you doing this?” I asked.

  He sighed. “I don’t know,” he answered. “Torturing myself, I guess. I just don’t get it. How can a person change so much? Just like that? Before, all I had to do was mention I wanted some, and you would be right there for me. All the time. Now it’s like… Every time I touch you, you turning away from me.”

  I took his hand in mine. “I’m not the same Karen anymore,” I explained to him as gently as I could. “And as soon as you accept that, the better you and I will be.”

  “So you and me can’t never be together again? Is that what you saying?”

  “I didn’t say that,” I answered him.

  “Then why you keep rejecting me?”

  I breathed deeply and exhaled slowly, not sure exactly how to explain everything I wanted to say.

  “I’m just waiting on God,” I finally said.

  “To do what?”

  “I don’t know. I know it sounds crazy, but I’m waiting. I know that I know God, and He’ll give me a sign or a dream or something that will let me know.”

  “Let you know what?”

  “If you’re the one for me.”

  He looked me square in the face. “The one?”

  I nodded.

  “But I already know you’re the one for me. You don’t trust me? After all the things we done been through together? All the things I done for you? Even in the last few weeks? Come on, girl! You don’t trust me yet?”

  “Terrance. I went through a lot after we broke up. I lost my man, I lost my baby, and I lost all of my friends. That was very hard for me. And during that time I made some changes, and one of those was committing to celibacy until marriage. And I’m sticking to it.”

  “People say that all the time, but nobody really does it.”

  I twisted my mouth, determined not to cave in. “I am.”

  His facial expression changed. No longer was he perplexed and tense. Now he was surprised. “Really?” he asked, as if he finally understood for the first time.

  I nodded.

  “That’s cool,” he said after a few moments of awkward silence.

  “You understand, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. Nawh, it’s cool. I mean, you do you, know what I’m sayin’?”

  I leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  “No problem,” he said coolly, and stood to his feet.

  “You okay?” I asked, sensing that he was unhappy.

  He picked his keys up from the kitchen counter and made his way toward the front door. “Yeah, I’m cool. I just gotta go… run some errands and thangs. I’ll be back in a while.”

  “You sure you okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just gotta go… take care of some thangs. I’ll be back in a bit.”

  Just as I was about to tell him to wait, he left, leaving me all alone.

  thirty five

  Anaya

  Even though the floor was carpeted, it was still cold. But since my bed had been repossessed a few days ago, the only place I could sleep was on the floor, on top of two folded blankets with a bed sheet wrapped around me. It wasn’t what I was used to, but it was what I had to do to get by.

  I didn’t know what I was going to do about Prestige. I wanted to kill Jeff. But I needed money, and his club was the only way I saw any coming in. I didn’t know about stripping, though. Could I really do that? I had the body for it, and that bastard did say that when you didn’t have nothing, use what you did have. But stripping?

  I shifted on my makeshift pallet and closed my eyes to try to get some sleep, but it didn’t come to me. Maybe because seven o’clock was too early to sleep, but I didn’t aspire to do anything else. Sleeping kept my mind off of men, including Reese and Jeff-the-Bastard. But every once in a while my baby girl would come to visit me in my dreams.

  She was so cute. Absolutely beautiful. She looked just like me, but she had her daddy’s eyes, which I didn’t mind because they were perfect on her. She was so precious and had the biggest smile. I didn’t know how I knew this little girl in my dreams was my daughter, but somehow I did. And even though it was my fault she wasn’t here, I couldn’t help but feel that she wasn’t mad at me. It was like she was in a better place and she understood that I loved her.

  She was probably better off, anyway. I didn’t know how to take care of a baby. With me as a mom, she probably would have been just as screwed up as me, if not worse. I couldn’t even take care of myself. How was I gonna take care of a baby, too?

  Even still, I couldn’t help but wonder how she would have been. Would she have liked to eat all of her vegetables, or would she sit at the table for hours on end like I used to do? Would she have liked to color, and if she did, would she have drawn me pictures? Would she have called me Mommy, or Mama, or Mom, or Ma? Would she have been prissy, and never want to get dirty, or would she like to play flag football
with all of the guys? Would she have grown up to want to be a model or an actress, or would she have gone the more intellectual route and become a doctor or a lawyer instead? Would she have grown up to find a cure for AIDS? Would she have had kids one day and given me grandbabies?

  “Ha,” I laughed out loud, humored at the thought of someone calling me a grandma. But still, it could have very well happened. If I hadn’t killed her.

  Someone rang my doorbell. I reluctantly got up to go answer, afraid that it was Mr. Pier coming to tell me that he was going to kick me out of his apartment even though I’d managed to pay my rent.

  “Hey girl with no name,” I heard Ayden say through the door.

  I froze, not wanting to talk to him. What did he want?

  “I know you’re at home,” he told me, confident. “I saw your car parked outside. Plus I can see your lights on under the door.”

  I walked over to the door and peered through the peephole. He was standing there dressed in a nice shirt and tie holding a white rose up for me to see.

  “What do you want?” I asked him.

  He smiled. “I wanna know your name.”

  I rolled my eyes, not impressed with his game, although it was a new one for me.

  “I’m not telling you,” I answered, the door still between us.

  Through the peephole I watched him drop his head, pretending to be hurt.

  “Come on, girl,” he said. “Can a man just be a friendly neighbor?”

  I huffed. “What do you want? I’m busy,” I lied.

  “Alright, alright,” he gave in. “Look, I just want to know if you’re hungry, ‘cause I got some food and I was hoping you’d eat dinner with me.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, right.”

  “No, I’m serious,” he said. “Look. I got the food right here.”

  “I don’t see no food,” I said, still watching him through the peephole.

  “It’s right here,” he said, and held up a bag of Kentucky Fried Chicken. “I ain’t no cook, so I ain’t got nothing gourmet to offer you, but I figured all black folks like fried chicken. Figured I couldn’t go wrong with that.”