by Curtis Bunn
At the same time, Carter wondered about Barbara. Because she had declared she would stay in her marriage for the foreseeable future, what made her change? He wanted to know.
“I know we have to leave soon to get ready for the party, but I have to ask you something,” he said. Barbara braced herself. She was not sure where Carter was about to go, but the set-up to the question made her tense.
“You told me more than once that you would not get a divorce because you had kids and you wanted to keep the family structure for them,” he said. “I don’t think you were lying. I think you meant it, and you had your reasons for saying it. So what happened? Why now are you divorced?”
Barbara was prepared for that question. She had expected it sooner, much sooner, but Carter never got directly to it after she shocked him with the news.
“You might laugh at this because it’s funny. Not comical funny, but ironic funny,” she said. “I found out that he was having an affair—a long, drawn-out affair. Here I was the one feeling guilty and upset about breaking our vows, and he was doing it, too, only longer and more elaborate.”
“Wow,” Carter said.
“Wow is right,” she went on. “We were married for almost nine years. He had been seeing this woman for seven years. They traveled together. He even had her in our house, probably in our bed. I was so shocked. I almost couldn’t believe it. But when I started thinking about it, all the signs were right there.”
“How did you find out?” Carter asked.
“It was the eeriest of things,” she said. “We were home. The kids were asleep. It was a Thursday night. We were flipping channels and he stopped at The Real Housewives of Atlanta. I said, ‘Keep going. I cannot poison my brain with that nonsense.’
“He said, ‘Barb, you need to open your mind.’ He’d never said anything like that to me before. I said, ‘Open my mind? That show is an affront to black people. It goes against everything our culture really, truly stands for.’ He said, ‘Loosen up, woman. It’s just entertainment.’
“You’ve got to understand: My ex-husband detests nonsense. For him to defend that show threw me off. Then he said, ‘Well, did you watch Good Times? That show was silly and an embarrassment.’ Oh, I hit the roof. I said, ‘Good Times is an iconic show. It represented the times. It had two parents struggling to make it for their family. Each show had a moral lesson. Was J.J. a buffoon? Yes. But the show was a comedy. It was one of the few places where we could turn on the TV and see brown skin. And you’re calling it an ‘embarrassment’? Who has gotten into your head?’
“He didn’t say anything. So I said, ‘Who have you been watching that trash with?’ He turned the TV off. He got off the couch and went over to the steps to make sure the kids were asleep. When he came back over, he put his head down and put his hand on my leg.
“Then, he said, ‘Barb, I’m sorry. You’ve been a good wife to me and a great mother. But . . . I have been seeing someone else.’ I moved his hand off of my leg. I was totally, totally shocked. I did not see that coming. And then he gave me the details. He was painting at Jack London Square in Oakland, on the dock by the water one day when this young woman came by. She admired his work and they started to converse. Before long, they were going on dates and the affair began.
“She knew he was married and was okay with seeing him only when he was available, which, as it turned out, became more and more as time went on. So, when he traveled to Mountain View and San Jose—towns not far from where we lived—to paint, she would go with him. And when I went back home to Ohio with the kids, she spent the weekend with him at our house. He gave me so many details to where I just told him to stop. I had heard enough. Although I had been unfaithful to him with you, I was still devastated. I was not going to leave him. I was going to stick it out because of the kids. But when I heard that, I knew I couldn’t.”
Carter did not know what to say. “Damn,” he finally uttered. “I’m sorry. You’ve been through a lot. But you could have told me about this. You should have told me. Trust me, it would have saved me—saved us—a lot of drama.”
“The way my life has been, I figure you’re going to run into drama as soon as you step out the front door,” she said. “It’s just a matter of how much.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
EEENIE MEENIE MYNEE . . . NO
Tranise, Mary and Charlene
When the cannons erupted following the game, signifying the Spartans’ victory, Tranise did not jump. This time, she was ready.
“I didn’t watch much of the game,” she said, “but homecoming is a little better if we win. Now, everyone is in a great mood. I love it.”
Walking out of the stadium, she hugged Phyllis Simms, an NSU graduate whose book, In the Name of Sisterhood, was one of Tranise’s favorites.
“I knew it was you as soon as I saw you,” Tranise said. “I really enjoyed your book. It reminded me of my friendships I made here at NSU.”
She posed for a photo with Phyllis. “We have some really talented authors from Norfolk State: Nathan McCall, China Ball, Regina Southall—those are three more I can think of off the top of my head,” Tranise said. “I’m so glad I got to meet you.”
Phyllis hugged her and they departed. Tranise was torn about what she should do that night. Another friend, Kayrn Shepard from Maryland, was encouraging her to step back in time and attend a party called “The Sweatbox.”
It was a concept a group of Norfolk State students had developed in the late 1980s at the old Student Union Building’s ballroom. Students would pack the place and jam until they sweated out their clothes. It was all about one thing: dancing. Dancing hard and long. It was not unlike The Garage in New York way back in the day, where party-goers would show up with a backpack full of a change of clothes. Then they would throw down until the sun came up.
“The Sweatbox is an experience,” Tranise said. “I don’t think you ever went. They said it’s down at the Crowne Plaza in Virginia Beach. Artie Jarrett, the Alpha, is hosting it. Three floors. Food on the lower level. You just pack a bag of clothes so you can change and get your groove on. They expect three hundred people there.”
“Well, I won’t be three-oh-one,” Mary said. “I went to the salon on Thursday. You think I’m gonna undo what I paid ninety-dollars for in ten minutes of dancing like I’m some fool? Not gonna happen.”
“Ninety dollars?” Charlene said. They were walking down Presidential Parkway behind the band and a massive group of people.
“My hair is natural. A press and a trim is ninety. I got off the ‘creamy crack’ two years ago,” Mary explained. “Relaxers serve a purpose; I ain’t mad if you get one. But I got tired of them.”
“Well, you have a manageable grade of hair,” Tranise said. “Me? If I don’t get a relaxer, I’ll be looking real crazy right about now.”
“Your hair is fabulous,” Mary said. “You got it done in Atlanta?”
“I tried at least four, maybe five different salons down there until I found one that I love,” Tranise said. “It’s called Like The River. Beautiful, professional, no waiting. And my stylist, Najah, is the owner; she’s the bomb. In fact, her sister, Madinah, went to Norfolk State.
“But your point is well-taken. How I look sweating out my hair at a party? Shit, I don’t even like to sweat at the gym.”
“The gym?” Charlene said. “If I set foot in a gym, I think the alarms would go off.”
“We’re laughing, but you’re my girl so I’ve got to keep it real with you,” Tranise said. “I’m really glad you said you are starting to watch what you eat. We have to be mindful of how much weight we put on now while we’re still relatively young. We’ve got to make it a lifestyle choice. If we get it under control now, it will be the way we live and we’ll be able to manage it. A lot of teachers in my school—or shoot, just look at some of our classmates—have blown up. It’s not healthy. And it’s easy to put on but very hard to get off.”
“You’re not even as big as Jennifer Hudson was an
d look at her now,” Mary chimed in. “I want you to be healthy because here’s the thing: We’re not just talking about having a stroke or a heart attack and dying. Just as common are illnesses that come from weight problems. You don’t want to be on medication all your life. I have a co-worker who is thirty-two years old and she’s taking all kinds of pills every day—cholesterol, blood pressure, so on and so forth. It ain’t cute, honey.”
“Damn,” Charlene said. “I was about to say let’s go to the all-you-can-eat seafood place.”
Mary and Tranise punched her in either arm.
“No, I hear you and I appreciate you,” Charlene said. “Looking at you little cute bitches inspired me even more to do better. Seriously. I looked at both of you yesterday and I was like, ‘I’ve got to come down.’
“So, I’m giving up my butter pecan pint of ice cream three times a week before bed. I’m giving up my double-pattie burger and fries every Saturday. I’m giving up fast-food altogether.”
“That sounds like a lot, Charlene,” Tranise said. “Maybe you should be a little more gradual about it.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But I’m serious. This is how serious I am: After Tyrell and I finished our business last night, he passed out as if someone took a hammer to his head. I got on my phone and looked up diet and healthy choices. I basically developed a strategy on how I’m gonna attack this.”
“Which is what?” Mary asked.
“Well, I will start my day with an apple for breakfast and oatmeal,” she said. “They are both great for you. For lunch I will eat fish, chicken or turkey and vegetables. For dinner I will have a salad with salmon or chicken and occasionally steak. But no white starches. No white bread or French fries or white rice. It said I could have dessert a few times a week, but I’m going to let fruit be my desserts. And I’m going to walk three or four times a week. This is the vow I made to myself this morning.
“Oh, and the other thing I read was there are a lot of health benefits to sex. So I’m having it at least twice a week. And that means, since I didn’t get none last week, I’m hooking up with Tyrell again tonight.”
The women fell all over each other laughing. “You are a shonuff fool,” Mary said.
“Does Tyrell know this?” Tranise asked.
“You saw when I talked to him at the game, didn’t you?” Charlene said. “I told him then.”
“What did he say?” Mary said.
“Nothing. He just smiled and smacked me on my ass,” Charlene said. “I took that to mean he is down.”
“Well, anyway, I am glad you have made a smart decision—about changing your eating habits, not Tyrell,” Tranise said. “I’m going to be calling you every week to check on you.”
“Yeah, right,” Mary said. “We might not see your little cute butt for another four years.”
“After these two days?” Tranise said. “I’ll definitely be back. As a matter of fact, we should get together in the summer somewhere. Maybe you two should come to visit me in Atlanta.”
“Give me until the spring; by then you will see a difference in me,” Charlene said. “How about April? That’s—what?—five months? Oh, I’ll be light in the ass by then.”
“You’re already light in the head,” Tranise said.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” Mary said. “You want to get something at the tailgate or go to a restaurant?”
“The game is over; the tailgate isn’t?” Tranise asked.
“Girl, I’ve never been here when it was over,” Charlene said. “I always end up leaving at some point while they’re still going, even out there in the dark cooking, eating, drinking and partying.”
“Well, let’s go back there and see how it is, at least for a little while,” Tranise said. “Maybe I’ll see Brandon down there.”
“Umm-hmm,” Mary said. “I thought you had gotten past that puppy love from afar with a man who didn’t know you existed until yesterday.”
“That’s funny,” Tranise said. “I’m good. I know how to handle Brandon. Don’t worry about that. But Kwame could be another story. He’s putting the moves on. This young guy has more on the ball than most of the guys my age that I’ve met. I gotta give it to him.”
“Give him what?” Charlene asked. “The booty?”
“Just because you let Tyrell get it and Mary opened them legs for Rodney doesn’t mean I need to do the same thing,” Tranise cracked.
“Actually, you probably do need some,” Mary said. “It’ll loosen you up some.”
“I am loose enough, thank you very much,” Tranise responded.
“Well, see if you’re loose enough to handle Brandon, because there he is right there,” Mary said.
Sure enough, standing across from the baseball stadium with a plate of food in his hand, was Brandon, looking as distinguished and pleasant as ever.
“I gotta admit,” Charlene said, “That’s a tall glass of chocolate milk right there. I’m lactose intolerant, but I’ll be damned if I wouldn’t sip him up with a straw.”
Mary laughed, but Tranise did not. She did not even hear her friend’s comment. She was focused on fluffing her hair and applying lip gloss and generally getting herself proper for a talk with Brandon. They made a direct line to him, cutting from one side of the street to the other, entangling themselves with people along the way.
“Did you even go into the game?” Tranise asked him.
“How you all doing?” he said. “Yes, I did go in. I stayed until I knew we had the game won. Then I came out here to get something to eat.”
“That plate looks like you’re eating for two,” Charlene joked. “I thought it was your wife that’s pregnant, not you.”
Brandon laughed. “Well, I’m a growing boy, you know? We need our nutrition to keep our energy up,” he said.
“I’m sure that ain’t all that gets up,” Charlene whispered into Tranise’s ear.
“So what are you doing tonight?” Tranise asked.
“I’m going to the Best of Friends party at the Holiday Inn,” he answered. “Have you been to one of their parties before? It’s actually a crowd that’s a little older than us, but they party. Really nicely done, everyone dresses up. I’m sure you have a sexy dress you’re dying to show off.”
“How did you know?” she said, smiling.
“It just made sense,” he said. “I’m sure I’ll appreciate it.”
The conversation among the four became all about Brandon and Tranise, which was Mary’s and Charlene’s cue to move on. “Girl, we’re going over to the Ques’ tent,” Charlene said.
“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute,” Tranise said.
Brandon smiled. “I thought they’d never leave,” he said, smiling more. He was coming on to Tranise. If there ever was any doubt, there wasn’t anymore.
“Why did they have to leave?” she asked.
“Oh, where are my manners?” he said. “You want to get a plate?”
“I actually have a ticket to the buffet at the alumni tent, so I’m going to head over there,” Tranise said. “But you didn’t answer my question.”
“I was joking, but when I think about it, it is good that they left,” he said, “because I was interested in talking more to you. It would be rude to leave them out of the conversation when we’re all standing here together.”
“That’s true,” she said. “And it is good that they left because I have a question I want answered.”
“Go,” he said.
“Are you flirting with me?”
Brandon finished off the potato salad on his plate and tossed it in the trash can behind him. “Do you want me to flirt with you?” he asked.
“I’m not ashamed to say I have wanted you to flirt with me since we were in college,” Tranise admitted. “I just don’t know if I’m finally getting what I wanted.”
If he thought that because he was tall and handsome and charming and smart and popular that he was going to get somewhere with her, well, he was right. Tranise
was weak to him. It was only when she reminded herself that he was married that she put up any real resistance.
Before he could answer, none other than his wife appeared from a group of people to Tranise’s right. The look on Brandon’s face said she should go away.
“Honey, you remember Tranise?” Brandon said.
Felicia just looked at her husband. He turned when someone called his name. “Honey, I’ll be right back.” He was off, leaving Felicia and Tranise standing there frowning at each other. Nothing was said for about ten seconds, before Tranise decided to take the mature approach.
“When is your baby due?” she asked Felicia.
“When is yours due?” Felicia responded.
“I’m not pregnant,” Tranise snapped back.
“Then stop staring at my husband as if he’s something you’re craving,” Felicia said.
“Already that baby is making you crazy,” Tranise said. “And I thought you couldn’t get more crazy.”
“You can deny it all you want; I saw it for myself just now,” Felicia said.
“As usual, you are way off base,” Tranise said. “Why would I want someone who has had you?”
“Because you haven’t had anyone,” Felicia said.
Brandon returned before it got really ugly. Felicia grabbed his hand and led him away from Tranise before he could ever say anything. They both were heated. When they got out of Tranise’s line of sight, Felicia went off on her husband.
“Brandon, what the hell are you doing entertaining that . . . that silly little woman?” she said. “I have told you how I feel about her. That’s not acceptable. She’s grinning in your face and you’re grinning back at her. What’s that about?”
“Calm down,” he said.
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” she snapped. “That was totally disrespectful. And I’m not having it.”
“Baby, it’s homecoming,” he said, remaining calm. “All I did is what all these thousands of people out here are doing. There was nothing out of bounds about speaking to Tranise.”
