by Cydney Rax
Phil looked as if the girl’s name just didn’t matter to him.
“Oh, Phil,” she said. “This is bad. And it hurts me, and I’m not even her.”
How could young men start the disrespect of women as early as sixteen years of age? The notion of it all frightened Alita. She never wanted to think that the son she gave birth to did not know how to honor females.
“You’re too young for this player shit, Phil.”
“Mama, can I get dressed, please?” Leno asked. “This sounds like an A and B conversation. I didn’t do anything anyway.”
Alita desperately wanted to believe that her son, her baby boy, had not had sex with the young lady. But she had no proof. She wanted to take Leno at his word. But she despised being made to look like a fool.
“Come with me, you two.” As much as she did not feel like doing it, Alita returned to the scene of the sex crime. The overhead light was still on. She walked over to the trashcan next to her bed. She emptied its contents. There was a black-and-gold condom packet right there for all to see. She picked it up. “At least you had the good sense to strap it up. Now whose was this?”
The two boys pointed at each other.
“Somebody’s lying,” Alita remarked. “And I’d love to call Kennisha and ask her if you’re a pathological liar.”
“Leno’s lying,” said Phil. “He is as guilty as I am. It was his idea to smash that girl. He thought you’d be at work—”
“Wow, you’ve become the little snitch, haven’t you?” replied Alita. Leno looked as if he was about to burst out of his skin. “Wait. This is all wrong. You two are friends. I don’t want you to snitch on each other, so spare me the details, Phil.”
“He’s lying on me, Mama. It wasn’t my idea. It was his idea since his mama is at home. He asked if there was anybody here, and I told him no. So he got me to come over here and invited that girl too. We haven’t even been here long.”
“Long enough to almost get your nut, huh, Phil?” Alita massaged her temples. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. I don’t know everything that happened here. But I know one thing. You, Leno, and I will have a conference with your daddy real soon.”
“If I go live with him, I wouldn’t be going through all of this.”
“Well, hopefully he could talk some sense into you.”
“But didn’t you tell me one time that I am starting to act just like my dad?”
“Yeah,” Phil blurted. “My mother tells me boys will be boys every time I do something she don’t like. And she’ll just give me a pass.”
“If Phil’s mom is nice enough to understand what we go through, then why can’t you be like her, Mama?”
“She’s not nice, she’s stupid.”
Phil raised his eyebrows.
“What I meant to say is I’m not her, I’m me.”
“I thought so,” Leno replied. “That’s why every day I’m around you, you just make me want to go live with my dad even more.”
“Hush you mouth, boy.” Leno’s words hurt Alita to her core. She had always been afraid that this might happen, that her son would turn on her once he got older and perhaps began to miss his father.
Phil told Leno he’d hit him up later. Leno said, “No, don’t leave. Wait for me.”
“Leno, if you walk out that door, you better not ever come back.”
Leno scowled at Alita. He ran behind Phil and swiftly left the apartment.
CHAPTER 8
Three-Way
On the same day that Alita dealt with her drama, Calhoun got out of bed earlier than normal. He ate breakfast with Coco and the kids. Then, before he left for the day, Calhoun broke her off with an extra six hundred dollars.
“Here,” he said. “Go buy the kids some clothes and shoes. And get something for the new baby too.”
“Where’d you get this money from?” she demanded. “You won the lottery again?”
“Don’t worry about that. Just have fun spending it, Ma.”
Coco jumped up and down in exhilaration, her breasts flopping like tennis balls.
“Woo hoo! No more PayLess and Wal-Mart. I’m about to hit up Macy’s, Dillard’s, and Kohl’s.”
“You do that.”
A few hours after Calhoun left for work, Coco gathered up the children and drove away from home with a contented smile. Finally, her man was halfway acting how she wanted him to. But after she shopped for hours and had a satisfying lunch, returning to an empty house left her feeling worn out and discontent.
The time for Calhoun to come home came and went. Coco stared at the clock on the wall. She wondered how long it would be before Calhoun would insert his key in the front door.
Feeling restless, Coco sat on the couch.
“Cadee, come in here and turn on the TV and find me something good to watch.”
Six-year-old Cadee instantly obeyed.
“You like this, Mama? How about this show? Let’s watch this.”
“Okay, Cadee. Great job.”
But then Chloe ran into the room and snatched the remote from Cadee. Even though she was only three, Chloe knew how to change the station to a Disney channel. Cadee shoved her sister, and little Chloe fought back.
Then they magically all sat together, their eyes glued to the colorful characters on the screen.
Coco couldn’t believe how quickly her kids could disobey her orders. “I told you to find something that I’d want to watch. I don’t wanna look at no damn Disney movie.”
“Mama, please let us watch, please,” Chloe cried.
Coco slapped the remote out of Chloe’s hand and watched it fly across the room. At once all the kids began to cry and kick their feet angrily in the air.
“Forget this,” Coco said to herself. “I’m about to tell your daddy how bad you been acting.”
She grabbed her cell phone and voice-dialed Calhoun. She felt excited at the thought of even hearing his voice. His line rang six times then stopped.
“Where the fuck are you?” she yelled into his voice mail then hung up.
Leaving her man seven messages in three hours with no return call made Coco feel irrelevant, and that was the last thing she ever wanted to feel.
* * *
It was now almost midnight. The kids had long ago fallen asleep. The girls slumbered in one twin bed, and Chance snoozed in the other. Although the house had three bedrooms, Coco wanted the kids to share one room, figuring it would be easier to keep track of them. The third bedroom had been converted to a nursery.
Coco checked each child and made sure they were securely tucked in. She shut the door securely behind her and returned to the living room. The only sounds she heard were a drippy kitchen faucet and the ticking of a battery-operated wall clock.
She went to her bedroom, and she pulled out a messy black wig and slapped it on her head. She grabbed her denim shoulder bag, cell phone, and scooped up her keys.
Coco quickly exited the house, making sure to not slam the front door. The dim streetlights cast a menacing shadow on her noisy street. She lived on a main boulevard that was filled with traffic. Music from passing cars banged so loud that she felt the concrete vibrate underneath her shoes.
Once Coco got in her car and began to drive, her mind raced. Where was he? Who was he laid up with this time?
Coco promised herself to do a quick drive-by and come right back home.
“I swear to God if things keep going this way, I may seriously think about dumping his ass. Sick of this shit,” she said, talking to herself. She dabbed her wet eyes with her thick fingers.
Coco slowed her car to ten miles an hour as she approached Henrietta Humphries’s house, a mere ten blocks from hers.
She craned her neck and checked out every car parked out front.
Behind her, a person driving a pickup truck laid on its horn real loud.
Startled, Coco jumped in her seat and peered in her rearview. She saw the outline of what looked like a man wearing a hat. When the horn loudly sou
nded again, she rolled down her window.
“Fuck you, you asshole. Go around me.” Coco stuck a finger out the window and flipped him the bird.
The pickup advanced forward, moving close enough to tap the back of car. She lurched forward, then stopped and grabbed her door handle. Before she knew it the vehicle backed up, sped past her, its tires screeching. She heard the whooshing sound of a stray bullet, but it was a bad shot and completely missed her.
“I hope you get in a wreck and die,” she screamed again before calming down and rolling up her window. She continued spying on Calhoun’s mother’s house, noting every vehicle in the driveway, across the street, and parked down the block. She didn’t see her man’s Dodge. A lot of times, even though she and Calhoun lived together, when they got into a quarrel, he ended up crashing on Henrietta’s couch. But that didn’t seem to be the case tonight.
As she felt sick with dread, the hole in Coco’s stomach enlarged and began to fill with a familiar aching pain that made her want to bend forward and puke.
“Why can’t he act right?” She drove away, slowly inching down the street, any street, in search of her man.
Not caring about the lateness of the hour, Coco dialed Dru’s cell phone.
“Hey, Dru, what you doing?”
“I was asleep!” Dru rolled over and quietly got out of bed. Tyrique was instantly alert and sat up.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“It’s Coco,” she told him. “Go back to sleep. This shouldn’t take long.”
“That’s what you said the last time Coco called at this ungodly hour.”
“Well, I have to take the call. She’s family.”
Tyrique nodded. He knew. “Do what you have to do. I’ll try and go back to sleep.”
Dru told him, “Good idea.” She got up and slid her feet into some house slippers and went downstairs to the first floor of their townhouse.
“Hello?” Coco could be heard saying. “You still there?”
Dru sighed and went to open the refrigerator. She grabbed a bottle of Coke and took a generous swallow. It was a drink she despised, but she figured she’d need the caffeine. She flipped on the light switch and stood still for a moment.
“Dru, you hang up?”
“I’m here, Coco. Trying to stay awake. What’s up?”
“I’m calling about . . . him.”
Dru knew the topic without her sister even speaking the man’s name.
“What about him? Is he all right?”
“I don’t know. The Negro not even home yet.”
“That’s a shame,” Dru said with a loud yawn. She started to ask Coco if she’d tried calling Calhoun, but right away knew that was a pointless question.
“What have I ever done to him?” Coco lamented. “Does Tyrique ever stay out late?”
Dru laughed out loud.
“Am I not sexy enough for my man? Why can’t Calhoun act like he got some sense and stop worrying me half to death?”
Coco hated herself for bringing her messy business to her sister, but she knew Dru would listen to her.
“I don’t know why he does what he does,” Dru mumbled, sounding drowsy. “Some men are . . . are strange.”
“Some of ’em? Shit, all of ’em fucked up in the head.”
“Yeah, yeah. Maybe. Maybe not.” Dru took a seat at the breakfast bar and tried to get comfortable. “Are you in your car, Coco? Sounds like you’re driving.”
“I’m almost home,” she lied.
“Oh, okay. Where are you?”
“Hell if I know.”
“Huh? Girl, you’re scaring me.” Dru sat up straighter on the barstool. “Why don’t you know where you are?”
“I meant to say, I’m in Houston; I’m just not familiar with this street.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re doing that again.” Dru’s heart ached for her sister. This is why she herself was so pragmatic about her own relationship. What she and Tyrique shared was infinitely less histrionic than Coco and Calhoun’s relationship. Nevertheless Dru had decided a long time ago if she had to endure tons of drama just to have a man, she’d rather be by herself. Everyone wasn’t destined to meet the love of their life, even if that’s what they wanted more than anything.
Dru pleaded with Coco. “Sis, leave that man alone. You cannot control an adult.”
“He’s a big kid.”
“Stop acting like his mother, because folks will do exactly what they want to do.”
“Not on my watch, he won’t. He acts like he don’t know I’m having his baby.”
Dru wanted to be supportive, but sometimes love meant being firm.
“Coco, what exactly do you want from Calhoun?”
“Love.”
“Be more specific.”
“I just want him to think about his family. Put us first all the time instead of some of the time.”
“Um, can you be even more detailed? Give an example.”
“Okay,” Coco said stubbornly. “I prove my love to my man by being there whenever he needs me. I take care of our children. I try my best to keep the house clean and give him home-cooked meals. I am with him when he’s sick and will go to the pharmacy and pick up whatever medicine he needs, no matter what time of the day or night.”
“That’s nice,” Dru agreed. “You are showing him support and love when you do all these things . . . but, and I want you to be honest, does he reciprocate?”
“Huh?”
“Coco, how does Calhoun act in return? Like, how does he make you feel most of the time?”
This was the part that hurt Coco to her core. She could tell Dru the truth, but she knew it would sound too damning. So she let her know the partial story.
“Well, he went to a Louisiana casino last week, and I think he won some money. I couldn’t go because I had morning sickness. Anyway, so like, this morning he gave me a lot of cash to buy the kids some clothes. But you would think that he’d want to know what his money bought. And we buy a lot of nice stuff and I go straight home after we went shopping. And I wait on him . . . for hours . . . so excited to lay the clothes out on the couch. Cadee and Chloe wanted to model for their daddy.” She laughed wistfully. “But the longer I waited, the madder I got. And I called him, but instead of him calling me right back, he ignores me. Not once, not twice.” She swallowed deeply, and her tonsils throbbed with pain. “He acts like I’m in this relationship by myself. Like I gotta beg him to do shit that should happen naturally if a man really loves a woman.” Her voice fell to a haunting whisper. The echo of her words made her feel conflicted. She wanted to tell Dru about the times when she’d tell Calhoun she loved him. And there’d be that unbearably awkward silence between them. Like Calhoun was thinking of other things.
“So tell me,” Dru said. “Why chase someone who seems to be running away, and who isn’t giving you everything you need?”
“Because sometimes he does.” Coco defended Calhoun even though there were moments she wanted to crack his head with a sledgehammer. She reminded Dru that he helped pays her doctor bills, bought her gasoline, washed and detailed her car, and gave her money to buy things for their new baby.
“If he was really worthless,” Coco said, “he wouldn’t even do what he does.”
“But is the little bit that he does worth all this heartache?”
Coco couldn’t answer. Her brain felt as if it was being twisted over and over like a long, wet, filthy rag. She couldn’t see clearly due to the tears that spilled from her eyelids. When you’re lost in love, how else are you supposed to behave? Right then she felt torn between two highly volatile emotions: love and hate. At times they almost felt identical.
“I just want him to act more right. Hell, even fifty percent of the time would be cool.” She didn’t care that Dru heard her blubbering and sniffling. “When he loves me the way I need to be loved, we’re cool. We’re on top of the world, on top of the mountain. I just want us to stay on top.”
Dru thought Coco so
unded like a hopeless nut. “Oh, my God. This is crazy. I’m concerned about you, Coco. I hate hearing you sound like this. Pull yourself together.”
Coco rummaged through her purse, and whisked out some facial tissue. She blew her nose and wiped it dry.
“Dru Boo,” she sniffed. “I know you think my man ain’t worth all this. But hell. Nobody’s perfect, not even your precious Tyrique. That’s just life. It can’t always go the way we want.”
“What does Tyrique have to do with this?”
“Nothing.” Coco snapped. She was beyond irritated that no man could be compared to her treacherous Calhoun Humphries.
“Your man ain’t nothing like mine,” Coco said sarcastically. “Yet he ain’t no saint. There has to be something wrong with him, just like any other man.”
“Wow,” Dru muttered. Why did she have to try to throw Tyrique under a bus? “Seriously, Sis. Perfect. Non-perfect. Angel. Demon. It really doesn’t matter. Because you being out here in these Houston streets all over a man is dangerous—and extreme.”
“So you’re telling me you’ve never done this before over Tyrique?”
Dru had to laugh, but it was a tickled kind of laughter. “Sweetheart, it’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to feel that type of emotion over any guy, let alone my boyfriend.” She carefully considered her words. “If someone makes me feel crazy in the head, I take as a sign that they aren’t meant to be with me. Love shouldn’t make you do crazy things . . . think insane thoughts . . . lose your common sense. Oh, I am aware that’s how it all starts out, you think he’s the one because of the crazy emotions you have, but emotions can be deceiving, Sis.” She said what she felt, but she didn’t want her sister to think that she was calling her crazy . . . even though Coco was loco.
“I know because your heart is so very involved, you can get caught up. We do that at times,” she allowed herself to say. “And I-I know a little bit of drama can happen at times. As long as I’m with Tyrique, I prefer to avoid the drama.”
Coco remained silent. Her throat felt dry, and her head pounded harder with her relentless migraine.
“Coco, are you still there?” Coco did not reply, but the hairs on Dru’s neck rose. She felt an eerie presence behind her. She jerked her head. It was Tyrique, staring at her. She placed the call on mute.
