by Cydney Rax
“I wonder where he gets that from.”
“Funny. Anyway, Leno talked to his daddy and they actually had a decent conversation. It gave me hope, you know? I just want them to have a strong relationship.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. I was shocked too,” Alita continued. “So father and son talked, and Leonard was able to get away from his job to go and pick up my baby. And I wanted to go too, I really did. I begged Dru to drive me over to where Leno was, but she flat out said no. Can you believe that shit? That little heifer gets this unhelpful attitude sometimes, and I can’t stand that. If you nice, stay nice. Because her acting like a dick when she’s really a pussy just confuses me. Hello? B? Are you listening to me, or am I talking to myself as usual?”
Burgundy laughed. “Girl, stop. I’m listening. I have you on speakerphone while I’m doing my walk. But since no one can ever predict what will come out of your mouth, I may have to take you off speaker. There are some people that just can’t be on speakerphone.”
“Oh, fuck you, B.”
“See what I mean? What if Sid and Natalia wander in here?”
“They’re used to me. They know how their auntie Alita rolls.”
“And that is exactly why you can never babysit my girls.”
“Oh, you’re so wrong for that.” Alita laughed. “I’m just so glad that my nieces are still very young.” She paused. “I’m telling you, B. Enjoy them while you can. Let them be little girls. Don’t try to force them to grow up too fast. None of that letting them wear lipstick when they’re four and six years old. I can’t stand that ghetto-ass shit.”
“But I thought you loved ghetto life?”
“I do, but there is a such as thing as being too ghetto. You know what I mean, B?”
Burgundy knew exactly what Alita meant, but she had no time to go into it. She was running on a tight, systematic schedule. Everything had to be just so in Burgundy Reeves Taylor’s life. She knew that after she did her walk and lifted the weights, it would be time to run the bubble bath. She’d takes a few sips of her favorite hazelnut coffee and study a couple of scriptures as she soaked in the tub.
Every minute of her day was always accounted for. She believed this is what her husband loved about her. She wasn’t one to lie around waiting on her man to pay constant attention to her. Burgundy was always on the move, being a good mom, wife, and businesswoman, plus helping most of her siblings sort out their love lives and family drama.
“Anyway, I hope you’re listening to me, B, but even if you’re not, it’s all right, because saying things out loud helps me to process stuff. So Dru acted like an ass and refused to take me to where Leno was.”
“Why can’t you drive your own car?”
“That piece of shit car is real half-assed. It’s on its last legs,” Alita complained. “I really want to get a new car, but I can’t afford even a mountain bike right now. Shit. I need a man.”
“You need a man?” Burgundy asked.
“Well, I will as soon as I’m off of my man break.”
“I think you’ve lost your mind, Alita. I really do. Coco says you’re love challenged.”
“She might be right, because I’m on strike right now. Everybody who knows me knows that. If I want to be miserable, I’ll do it by my damned self.”
“But why do you have to be miserable just because you’re in a relationship, Alita? You can be happy and attached and fulfilled . . . You do realize that, right?”
“Ha! All I know is screaming, fighting, fucking, cussing, bullshit, and aggravation.”
“I give up. How soon they forget.” Burgundy smiled to herself. She wanted to rub it in and remind Alita how often she used to call her during the earlier times of Leonard and her relationship. Back then Alita seemed happier than she’d ever been in her life, constantly gushing about this perfect man that she had. But Burgundy wasn’t in the mood to get cursed out so she kept the “happy Alita Washington” memories to herself.
“Um, I have fifteen minutes to go to burn some calories, so hurry up and finish your little story, Alita.”
“All right. Let’s see. Where was I? Oh, so Leonard tells me that Leno was actually over at one of those girls’ house. The one I was telling you about? The one with the big booty who was practically gyrating against my son in public? That little pedophile about to get arrested, she keep messing with my son.”
“Oh, my goodness. How old is she?”
“See, B, these days the girls lie and say they’re fifteen or sixteen, but they’re really like nineteen or twenty. How many times have I told my son, do not believe it when a girl tells him their age. They need to pull out a driver license or some type of government ID before I believe their lying asses. Oh, girl, you don’t know how stressed out I am about finding a condom. I don’t need him to be fucking little girls left and right. I’m only thirty-six, too young to be a grandmother. Sperm don’t care how old you are; if the dick works he can get a girl pregnant. And because of his little hormones I stay worried every single day until he’s back in my sight safe and sound.”
“You can’t live life that way, Alita. You can’t monitor Leno twenty-four hours a day.”
“Do you monitor Nate?”
“Um, no. We don’t roll like that. We trust each other. We give each other personal space.”
“I don’t believe that, because last time I checked, you two have a joint Facebook and Instagram accounts. Are you serious?”
“Nothing wrong with joint social media! I have nothing to hide, and neither does he.”
“So you mean to tell me you actually share passwords and can read each other’s messages?”
“Yes!”
“Sick.”
“Not sick! Smart,” Burgundy insisted. “We share passwords for all of our email accounts too. Don’t forget we have a lot of business ventures. And if anything ever happens to either of us, it won’t do any good to be locked out of emails when we need to tend to business. It’s just something we do.”
“Don’t tell me. Nate came up with that brilliant idea, or did you come up with it?”
“We both did.”
“Hold on a sec,” Alita ordered. Soon Burgundy heard her sister making vomiting noises. She laughed at her sister’s proclivity for extreme reactions.
“You’re a hot mess,” she told Alita. “I heard you making those disgusting sounds.”
“That’s ’cause you disgust me.”
“You’re just jealous, Lita. I get it. You are a hater. Haters gon’ hate.”
“What I hate,” Alita replied, “is that you are so blinded by love that you feel the need to know his password to his email. Tell me something. Do you know everything about your husband? Do y’all keep any secrets from each other?”
“We talk,” Burgundy explained. “That’s what we do. We get our feelings out. I’m not hiding anything from him, and I hope he’s not hiding anything from me. But if he is, it just means that I need to be more understanding so that he feels comfortable enough to come talk to me. About anything. At any time.”
“Girl, bye. I feel my dinner rising up in my throat, and I need to find a toilet and let it out so I won’t mess up my good carpet.”
“Before I let you go vomit, I wanted to hear the rest of your story about Leno.”
“All you need to know is that he is now home where he belongs. And I’m not letting that boy out of my sight till he turns twenty-six.”
“You, Alita, are one crazy mama.”
“I sure am. I have to be.” Alita sighed with relief. “Leonard Washington actually came through for me this time, but I’m sure I won’t be able to depend on him every time.”
“That’s why I want you hook you up with that friend; I told you about him. We work together every Sunday at the church bookstore.”
“That’s nice.”
“We’ve worked side by side for years, and I’ve gotten to know him pretty well.”
“So what?”
“Alita, you’re single. He’s single and looking.”
“I ain’t looking, though.”
“And his name is Shade Wilkins.”
“Are you serious? His name is Shade? That sounds messed up. Nope. Mm mmm. Not interested.”
“At least give the guy a chance and meet with him before you turn him down.”
“I’m not giving no man a chance to hurt me.” Alita spoke with defiance and finality. Love could feel so very good when everything fit well together, but when love wasn’t right it could hurt like hell: a devastating pain that Alita did not enjoy.
“Just one date!” Burgundy pleaded.
“Thanks for the offer, Sis, but right now my heart is on lock, and I’m the only one that holds the key.”
“Really?” Burgundy said, sounding doubtful.
“You damn fucking straight.”
“Oh, God. I told you no profanity. It’s the Lord’s Day. Respect my wishes.”
“Respect mine and stop trying to hook me up with your church friends. I don’t care how angelic they sound. I don’t care if they have wings and harps. I don’t care if they’ve been baptized three times. I don’t give a fuck!”
Burgundy gave up. “All right! You win. Talk later. Smooches, Ms. Potty Mouth.”
“Okay, then before you hang up, let me ask you one more thing.”
“Yes, Alita?”
“Is bitch-ass a bad word?”
“What?”
“How about asswipe?”
Click.
Burgundy hung up on Alita; she was ready to get on with her tightly scheduled day.
When she returned to their bedroom, Nate was still spread out underneath the covers on their king-size bed. She went into the bathroom and proceeded to fill the tub with water. She took a seat and reviewed her next week’s calendar while she waited.
Soon she heard Nate yawning. From where she was standing, she saw him open his eyes. Burgundy sprang to her feet.
“Hi, babe,” she said to him as she approached the side of their bed. “Did I wake you? I know you like to sleep in on Sundays.”
“It’s fine.” He sat up in bed and stared at his wife. Burgundy was completely nude and was trying to cram her long hair inside of a large bath towel.
“Need any help, baby?” he asked.
“No. I got it.” She blushed. But she struggled to wrap her hair so that it was completely covered. In seconds Nate fled to her side.
“Here, let me get that.” He stood behind Burgundy and managed to neatly stuff her long strands of hair into the towel so that none of it was showing. When he was done, he stared hungrily at her ass. He reached over and caressed her soft bottom. He instantly felt himself getting aroused. He stroked his penis.
“Babe?” he said in that husky voice of his.
Burgundy yelped and scooted away. “No. No. Not right now. Gotta take my bath and get the girls up, and you know what a hassle that is. We’re trying to make it to Sunday school on time this week.”
They attended Solomon’s Temple, a megachurch located a good forty minutes from their house.
When Burgundy excused herself, she dashed to the bathroom, opened a cabinet door, and retrieved her favorite brand of bubble bath. She screwed off the cap and squeezed the liquid into her iron claw-foot tub. This was the place she went when she needed to relax. Once the water filled up high enough to suit her tastes, Burgundy lifted up one leg and lowered herself into the tub.
She listened for any sounds coming from her bedroom. She knew it had been a couple of months since she’d let her husband touch her.
Nate came and stood in the doorway.
“Burgundy, we need to talk.”
“Can it wait?” She was seated in the tub and situated in front of her bathtub caddy. It was sturdy enough to hold books and her coffee mug. Burgundy picked up a file folder that she’d laid on the caddy. She opened the folder and waved sheets of paper.
“I’m multitasking. Going over this week’s schedule. Baller Cutz is running out of razors, clippers, and neck strips. I’ll pop in at the Warehouse Salon first thing tomorrow. Then I’ll need to pick up the new menus from the print shop around ten.” She inserted the papers back into the folder and waited.
Nate sat in a chair next to her. She hid her body underneath a mountain of white bubbles.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to think about or even talk about business on Sundays,” he told her.
“Well, you don’t have to talk about it . . . but I just like to stay on top of things.”
“I need you to stay on top of me, Burg.”
“What else is new? All men ever think about is sex.”
“That’s not all we think about. Plus, I’m not men. And according to that Bible you love to read, you owe me some booty. You’re not supposed to deny me.”
“What? Where is that scripture?”
Nate got his cell phone and clicked on a Bible app. “First Corinthians chapter five, verse—”
“Oh, whatever, Nate. I’m fairly positive that a man came up with that rule. Am I right?”
“Thank God that he did.”
“I don’t care what that verse says.” She picked up a sponge and starting cleaning her arms. “Right now I’m getting ready—”
“Getting ready to go to church,” he said. “Wouldn’t it be something if Pastor Solomon preaches about sex today?”
“If Pastor Sol did that, it would be a miracle. And you’d better not call him and put any ideas in his head either.”
Nate stood up and forced a laugh. What did Burgundy expect him to do? Masturbate until his penis fell off from exhaustion?
“Hey,” he finally muttered. “I tried. What can I say?”
Nate left the room, got back in bed, and slid underneath the covers. He conjured up an image of a naked body in his mind. He vigorously rubbed his penis and hoped it would just stop hurting.
Burgundy finished her bath and got dressed. When it was precisely seven, she gently kissed Natalia and Sid out of their sleep. She oversaw them taking off their pajamas, then she coaxed them into their own bathtub and thoroughly bathed them. They dried off and put on underwear and sat at their vanity mirror. Burgundy patiently combed the girls’ hair until they resembled adorable child models. She went to their closet and selected two matching red dresses and raspberry ballerina flats. She helped the girls get ready while engaging them in delightful conversation.
“How are my perfect little angels?” she asked. Burgundy wanted her daughters to have the best self-esteem ever, and she always endeavored to speak positivity and treat them like royalty.
“I love you girls so much. You are my life. Both you and your daddy, of course.”
“Mommy, I love that new baby doll you got for me.” Sid was the clingiest child. “She talks and she cries and when I give her the pacifier, her mouth moves around like she’s a real baby. I feel sad when she’s sad.”
“That’s nice to hear,” Burgundy said. “But this doll is not real. Those aren’t real tears. It’s all just pretend.”
“Sid is such a baby,” Natalia said. She was daddy’s little girl and always wanted to prove how grown up she was. “I don’t play with dolls anymore,” Natalia said.
“Don’t be like that, Nat,” Burgundy gently told her. “It’s okay for you to play with a doll.”
“I don’t like dolls.” Natalia’s voice had a snobbish tone. “My daddy’s going to buy me some better toys than that. Sid can have all my old toys.”
Burgundy dismissed her daughter’s haughty statement. She finished combing Sid’s and Natalia’s hair and then went downstairs and prepared a light breakfast for her family to eat. She completed all these tasks before seven-thirty. It was customary for her to attend to the girls while Nate slept in. He always preferred to show up at the church in time for the eleven o’clock service.
Once she was satisfied that the girls had eaten and were quietly playing in the upstairs playroom, Burgundy bounded up the spiral stai
rcase. She timidly knocked on Elyse’s bedroom door. When she didn’t hear a response, she attempted to turn the knob but, as usual, the door was securely locked.
“Elyse, baby, you going to church with me or are you riding with Nate?”
She didn’t hear a single sound and impatiently noted the time. It was getting late. Burgundy was ready to drive her daughters to children’s church and needed a few extra minutes to check them in before she could join the eight-thirty a.m. service.
She figured that Nate was still in their bedroom. Knowing him, by now he’d officially gotten up for the day and was probably using their landline to make one phone call after another. Nate was always checking up with Jordan Andrews, Morning Glory’s manager, to make sure that the restaurant had opened precisely at six a.m. and that the cooks had arrived for pre-preparations of their breakfast specials.
“Honey,” Burgundy yelled. “I’m about to go, all right?” Her voice traveled down the hallway as she busily scuttled the girls downstairs. “I’ll see you at church in a couple hours. Bye!”
She didn’t hear Nate’s reply, but was too preoccupied to follow up. She and the girls settled in her vehicle and within minutes were headed in the direction of Solomon’s Temple.
* * *
Elyse was hidden away in her bedroom closet. All the lights were lights off, and it was eerily dark inside the small rectangular space. Although it was quite warm inside of the house, the girl wore three long-sleeved shirts, two pair of sweat pants, and two pair of underwear. Her clothes clung to her skin and felt slick with perspiration. A big baseball cap covered her hair. She reached up and patted her forehead, which was dotted with sweat. She sniffed herself and smelled the dirtiness on her skin. She purposely had not taken a bath the night before. She badly wanted to clean herself in a scorching shower. But she couldn’t. She sat in the dark on the floor of the closet listening for sounds. Earlier, she clearly had heard her sister Burgundy call for her; she had wanted to answer her, but didn’t. She wasn’t in the mood for her sister’s cheerful ways.
Besides, Elyse had been too busy praying. Crying. Shaking uncontrollably. Burgundy may have loved Sundays, but Elyse hated them. She hated the routine. She hated everything about the Lord’s Day.
