Flip Side of the Game

by Tu-Shonda L. Whitaker

  “Confused?” Taj said, cutting me off. His voice started to tremble. “You weren’t fuckin’ confused! I kept telling you to stop trying dumb shit, and you didn’t listen! I been here, Vera. Me, Taj. I been the one holding, loving, listening, and encouraging you. Being strong for you, being a man for you, and you been fuckin’ playin’ me? I kept talking to you, and I told you to stop playing with love, because love would turn around and beat yo’ ass!

  “You are so damn stupid! You act like you fuckin’ crazy, always doing a bunch of dumb shit! I am so sick of you and this bullshit. I’m done. This is over! Stay the fuck out of my life!”

  Taj turned away from me and walked toward the door. He slammed the door so hard that the glass fell out and shattered all over the floor. I screamed his name for him to come back, but he didn’t. All I could hear was the whistle of the wind as it slipped into the crack while the automatic locks clicked.

  Stuck

  Heartbreak is the worst son of a bitch that you could ever meet. The feel of the heart cracking; the aching of the voice when you wanna say something but can’t because your words get lost in the tear-filled memory of how your heart became broken in the first place; the desire to laugh, but having to keep it buried because you don’t know if you may holler in joy or bellow out in pain, is some deep shit. Deep enough to keep my ass laying in the bed, dripping tears, holding my chest, and making sure that the crack from the inside doesn’t seep all the way through.

  I lay in the bed for three days. I hadn’t answered the phone, I hadn’t gone into the shop, hadn’t even eaten. All I did was cry and think, think and cry. I would think about how not to cry, think about why I shouldn’t cry, and then think about what else there was to do but cry.

  All my life I had contemplated life and how to live it, and I thought that going full speed ahead, hustlin’ niggas, playin’ married men, while ducking and dodging my heart, was the way to get by. It was the way to get through, because then, I could deal with hating my mother and despising my father. I could feel safe knowing that I had never given my love away to anybody that couldn’t take care of it, like Rowanda and Larry, but Taj was different. I needed him, I loved him, and I was not afraid anymore to let the world know that I was so in love with this man that I didn’t even know how to describe what I was feeling inside. The separation was killing me.

  The first day I decided to get out of bed and check the mail, it rained. The rain beat against the windowpane and ran down the glass like lost souls looking for an end. I walked back into the foyer and into the kitchen, and when I threw the mail on the center island, it slid on the floor and I left it there.

  I had dialed Taj’s phone number a hundred times over and over again, only to hang up before the first ring or before I pressed the last number. I kept looking at his picture and running my fingers across the image, as if I could taste him. I could still feel his touch melting into my skin, and I could still remember the look on his face when he said, “It’s over!”

  Tears welled up in my throat and fell from the corners of my eyes. I placed my head down on my kitchen island and cried into the fold of my arm.

  “That mu’fucka is a piece of work, ain’t he?” Shannon said, scaring me. I jumped up and wiped my eyes.

  “How did you get in here? And what mu’fucka?”

  “I have a key, remember? And the mu’fucka is better known as love. That nigga is a bitch, ain’t he? And he’s selfish. He just moves right in, takes up residence, and never once does he get your permission. And if you don’t recognize his ass when he arrives, you damn sure know the nigga by the time he leaves.”

  “Amen to that,” I said, wiping my eyes, which were now burning from holding back tears. Just then I noticed that Shannon had her Louie V. duffle bag and her makeup case.

  “What, are you moving in?” I asked.

  “Yep, for now anyway. It was decided over a conference call.”

  “A conference call?”

  “Yes, one of our get-’im-girl sessions. Me, Angie, and Lee unanimously agreed that I was the only one who could tolerate your mouth long enough to spend long and extended periods of time with you. Plus,” she said, dropping her bags in the middle of the floor and then opening the refrigerator and taking out a pack of chicken, “I need my hair done, and you’re my hairstylist.”

  I shot her ass a look.

  “Don’t be looking at me like that,” she said, frowning up her face. “Plus, we need to talk.”

  “About what?” I said.

  “About you and how you got to slow your ass down before you be out in the cold. I don’t know about you, but the next time I get pregnant, not only am I keeping my baby, but the man that I’m pregnant by will be my husband. Furthermore, you my girl and all, but when I get my husband, I won’t be hanging around no horny-ass single women. You got to be fat and frilly.”

  I started laughing. “You so stupid. Fat and frilly? Never that. But voluptuous? Now, that’s more like it. Plus, I ain’t the one you have to watch out for. You better look out for Angie’s sneaky-ass, or Lee. Yeah, Lee, that’ll be the one to getcha.”

  Shannon laughed. “I’ll fuck her ass up, but don’t be changing the subject. Lee is not the issue. Lee’s shit has passed, now it’s your turn. We’ll talk. Just give me a few minutes to freshen up.”

  “Freshen up?” I said. “You just walked in the door.”

  “For your information,” she said with a smirk, “I had some dick before I came over here—and not the shit that you buy at the nasty-girl store. I had some fresh dick. Okay? So, like I said, give me a minute. I need to freshen up.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “But in the meantime, here,” Shannon said, handing me the pack of chicken and fresh vegetables. “I’m hungry. Cook me something to eat while I shower and change my clothes.”

  “Are you serious? Cook? And eat? I don’t have an appetite.”

  “Well, goddamn! You real fucked up. Now, Vera, tell me, ain’t it somethin’ when the script flip and you on the outside looking in? Begging and pleading for love to come back? Girl, please. Love’s ass know he da bomb!” Then she smiled and went up the stairs.

  I grilled the chicken and steamed the vegetables. For a little pizza, I sprinkled some curry in the vegetables and steamed some butterfly shrimp as a topping. I toasted a roll of French garlic bread, and when I was done, what I had in front of me was Taj’s favorite meal. And then, suddenly it was as if an internal thunderstorm had occurred and lightning began to strike. I broke down and cried.

  Shannon came downstairs dressed in olive green silk pajamas. “Come here, girl,” she said, holding her arms out. “You got to stop acting like this. Crying is not going to bring him back.”

  I placed my head on her shoulder and said, “I didn’t know that I could love him like this. He was supposed to be a fling, that’s it. I was never supposed to fall in love.”

  “Vera,” Shannon said, “let’s sit down, ’cause I need to eat while we talk.”

  She fixed our plates, and we sat at the kitchen table. “Girlfriend, love is full time and sometimes overtime, but it is never, ever part time. You cannot turn it on and off when you’re not in the mood.”

  “But I was starting to be in the mood.”

  “Girl, please. Yo’ ass was already there. Listen, I understand that you have your issues with Rowanda, but it’s like that shit effects everything that you do. Deal with that shit. Deal with Rowanda. That’s your mother and she’s not going anywhere. If she has hurt you and you want to know why she left, why she couldn’t be there for you, why she couldn’t be your mother, and how come she had to always get high. If that’s what you want to know, then ask. Put it out there and then leave it.”

  “It’s not just Rowanda,” I said, making an effort to eat a piece of shrimp.

  “What else is it? Your father, Larry Turner? Girl, write his ass a letter and then burn it up. But before you burn it, step to his ass and tell him how you feel. Tell Larry that you’re pi
ssed the fuck off that he was never your father. Tell his ass that you can’t seem to settle with love because you keep wrestling with him and Rowanda. Keep a journal, write a letter, do something, and then take a pen and cuss their asses out! ’Cause this here, the shit you’re doing to yourself, has to end, because Taj is not going to wait forever.”

  “Obviously,” I said. “He’s not here.”

  “He’s not here,” Shannon said, “because you fucked up, plain and simple.”

  “But what if I go and he doesn’t want to be bothered with me? You heard him when he said it’s over. Fuck that. I’m not the type to be beggin’ no man.”

  “Beggin’? What the fuck? Drop that false-ass pride and go get that nigga. You all up in here crying and shit, can’t eat, can’t sleep, don’t know whether you comin’ or going. Chile, spare me. This is Shannon you’re talking to, and I know yo’ ass like a book. That man loves you, probably more than you love yourself, and nothing is worth losing a good man, especially not yo’ fake-ass pride.”

  “Shannon, please.”

  “Shannon, please? Do you know how hard it is to find a good brotha that’s not gay, incarcerated, on the down low, married, dead, or confused? Girlfriend, please. That’s exactly why, when I went through my shit with Quincy, I checked myself, learned from my mistakes, and moved on. Now, my man is at home watching TV, waiting on me, and as long as he’s good to me, has good credit and a job, then we can have something. So, needless to say, I got mine. Now you got to get yours.”

  “Shannon,” I said, as if I were exhausted, “I am so confused with this shit. It’s like, how can I love this man and how can this man love me, knowing that my mother is a fuckin’ drug addict? How is he so in love with me when I can’t even deal with my past?”

  “It’s your past, Vera. It’s not your future. And your mother is on drugs, not you. Stop dealing with her drug habit. Deal with yourself. You’re taking too much responsibility for her. Let some of that shit go, and go get that man. I’m telling you, the clean up woman gonna snatch him up, and you will be out in the cold.”

  “And what if he doesn’t want to be bothered?”

  “That’s a chance you have to take, but I doubt it. And guess what? If he doesn’t want to be bothered, then you take your heartache and step. Then, all that could mean is he wasn’t supposed to be your man. He was supposed to be your lesson, and the next time you get a good man, you’ll know how to treat him. But from the way I see it, if you play your cards right, you and Taj should be fuckin’ by this time tomorrow night.”

  I chuckled slightly, looked at her, and said, “Well, I’ll think about it.”

  “That’s on you,” she said, stuffing a piece of shrimp in her mouth. “Like I said, my man laying in the bed waiting on me.”

  I bit the inside of my lip and held back as many tears as I could. Then I got up, ran upstairs, and went into the bathroom and hopped in the shower. I got dressed in my low rise J-Lo jeans with the black leather patches on the front and the faded denim on the back. I slipped on my black leather tube top, my Jimmy Choos, and was fierce on my way out the door.

  “Where are you going?” Shannon asked as I came down the stairs.

  “I’m going to get my man,” I said.

  “That’s what’s up!” She smiled.

  Step Nine

  I stood and stared at the bells outside of the building Taj lived in for at least fifteen minutes before I thought about pressing the buzzer. It had started raining again, and people were staring at me as I stood motionless, with raindrops covering my skin.

  “Looking for someone?” a voice from over my shoulder said. I turned around and saw Taj. He was dressed in his scrubs and looked as if he had just come from work.

  “I was in the neighborhood, so, you know.”

  “No, I don’t know,” he said as he turned the key into the door. “But look, I just worked a double shift. I gotta go.”

  “Taj, I . . .”

  “Go home, Vera. I have things to do.” He slammed the door in my face.

  I cried all the way to my truck. I cried so much that when I started driving, I had to pull over to the side of the road and scream. I beat my hands against the dashboard and screamed in agony. I held my head down and cried into the steering wheel.

  As soon as I placed my hands over my burning eyes, I heard a tap on the window and then I heard a muffled voice say, “Open the door, Vera.”

  I looked up at Taj. “Open the door,” he said again. I shook my head.

  “Open the door, Vera.”

  I wiped my eyes and shook my head again.

  “Open the goddamn door, Vera!”

  I opened the door, and he gently lifted me out of my truck. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. He placed his hands underneath my butt, and he placed me against my truck’s door, with my back resting on the glass. The heavy rain dripped in slow motion as the night sky unzipped Heaven’s tears and it began to drench our clothes. I placed my head on his shoulder and inhaled the scent of his body.

  “Hold your head up and look at me,” he said.

  I held my head up, but I didn’t unwrap my legs or my arms. He locked his arms under my butt, and his grip was strong. “Do you love me?” he asked.

  I nodded my head.

  “No, say it to me,” he said. “And look at me when you say it.”

  “I love you,” I said, while licking the salty tears away from my lips.

  “Then why you keep fuckin’ up?”

  “I don’t mean to, but look, Taj,” I said, taking a deep breath. “All I know is that I’m in love with you. I can’t lose you, and I swear nothing happened between Roger and me. Nothing.”

  “Yeah?” he said with a frown.

  “My right hand to God, baby. Nobody in this world is worth losing you for. I never knew that I could love someone as much as I love you. I can’t let you go. I’m not letting you go. Whatever you need, I got it.”

  “All I want is your heart.”

  Tears started rolling down my cheeks. He kissed my tears away and he said, “Do you know how many times I thought about leaving and staying gone? Girl, I am so in love with you to the point where I can’t even think straight. But I won’t tolerate being played, because I’m not into that bullshit. Now, if you wanna be with me, then it’s all or nothing.”

  “Everything is yours,” I said. “Just give me another chance.”

  “Then treat me like I should be treated,” he said. “Stop shutting me out. Love me. Let me hold you. Let me be there for you. Allow me to be your man. When you want to talk about Larry Turner or Rowanda, come to me. That’s why I’m here. Talk to me, don’t hold it in. Tell me your problems, and I will do what I can to solve them.”

  “I have to solve my own problems.”

  “But I can lead you to the solutions.”

  “I love you so much, Taj.”

  “Actions speak louder than words. Show me that you love me. I’m your man and that’s it. Now, either you treat me like that, or I’m gone. No more two and three chances. I’m done with that shit. This is it. It’s all or nothing, and I will only settle for everything.”

  “All I can give you is my heart,” I said.

  “That’s all I need.”

  I hugged him so tight that I ended up melting into his embrace. I never wanted to let him go.

  He gently placed me on the ground, kissed me passionately while stroking my back, and somehow, in between the hissing breeze and the rhythm of the rain drops, we began to grind slowly, and somehow we ended up lost in the rhythm of one another’s heartbeat.

  Step Ten

  By now, you would think that I felt safe, but I didn’t. I was scared. Taj had my heart, and no matter what plans my mind made, my heart beat them out hands down, and here I was, ironically at the mercy of Taj’s love.

  It had started to get a little cold, even though it was only the beginning of September.

  “Get up. Let’s go for a ride,” Taj said. I wasn�
�t the least bit surprised, but I was exhausted. We had been up all night talking.

  “What are you going to do about Rowanda?” he asked, while slipping on his beige velour Sean John sweat suit.

  “Nothing.”

  “And you think that you can live the rest of your life doing nothing about your mother?”

  “Perhaps,” I said extra snappy, letting him know that I didn’t want to hear the shit! I was in love with him, yes, but the situation with Rowanda was not to be touched. “Plus, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  “You need to stop that.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop being so stubborn.”

  “I’m not being stubborn. I just don’t want to hear about it. Didn’t you just say let’s go for a ride? Well, let’s do that!”

  “Okay. Okay,” he said, throwing both his hands in the air, looking sexier than ever.

  He went to grab his Coach leather paperboy knapsack, but I was already close and practically in his chest by the time he went to reach over to the dresser. I placed my head on his chest and hugged him around his waist. I almost wanted to cry, but I got it together and instead, held him close. I could feel with the tightening of his embrace that he understood.

  “It’s all right, baby,” he said into my double-strand twist that I had twisted into a French roll. “It’s all right.”

  When we got into Taj’s Escalade, I could almost lose myself in the softness of the black leather seats. The sound of Will Downing’s “A Million Ways to Please a Woman” was filtering throughout the speakers, and it was so crisp and so clear that I felt like Will Downing was sitting next to me.

  “This is a nice CD,” I said to Taj with my eyes closed.

  “Yeah, it is. I listen to it on my way home a lot of times. It relaxes me. Makes me think about you.”

  I started blushing. “Jonathan Butler has a nice CD as well,” I said.

  “Jonathan Butler?” he said, as if he were impressed.

  “Yes, Jonathan Butler. What, all you think I listen to is Jay-Z and Lil John?”

  “I never said that. Maybe not Lil John. More like Lil’ Kim.”