by Ni-Ni Simone
“Hallelujah!” Ms. Minnie added.
“Hmmmmmm,” Cousin Shake continued. “We thank you Jesus Crisco.”
“It’s Christ,” Seven interrupted. Cousin Shake looked at her as if he could slap her. “I’m just saying, it’s Christ.”
“Continue, Cousin Shake,” my mother said.
“Hmmmmm and we wanna thank you for blessing me on my twenty-ninth birthday.”
“Twenty-ninth?” everybody said simultaneously.
“That’s what he said, ain’t it?” Ms. Minnie snapped as if she dared us to say something different. “Go on Roscoe Shaka-deen.”
“And we wanna thank you,” Cousin Shake continued on, “for the disciplines, Mark, Matthew, Luke, and Bobby.”
“Who is Bobby?” Man-Man looked around and asked.
Cousin Shake ignored him. “Hmmmmm and we wanna ask you to watch over the homeless, the poor, the ones who got more money than I do, the fool who stole my knock-off Rolex. It might not’ve meant nothing to them, but it meant something to me. Watch over the li’l chil’ren, and all the crackheads, and get at the man in the meat market for selling that rotten beef. And see about Paco over there in the bodega and tell him he needs to learn how to speak English. Stop by and see about the all the stray dogs and the cats. Turn this mother out and show all the children that Margaret was a virgin.”
“Who is Margaret?” Man-Man looked at my daddy.
“See about my baby mama,” Cousin Shake continued on. “Let her know our baby is forty-nine years old and it’s time for her to let the child support go. Come on down Jonathan—I mean Jesus. We need you. Amen.”
“I think it’s Christmas,” Seven mumbled as we sat down to eat.
“Be quiet,” my mother gave her the evil eye. “Toi,” my mother looked at me. “I think I hear Noah crying.”
“Excuse me.” I went to my room, picked Noah up and brought him back into the dining room.
“He’s old enough now, Toi,” my mother said. “He can eat a little mashed potatoes.”
“Oh wow,” Ms. Simms said, “how adorable. So Grier, you have two girls and two boys.”
“No, I have two girls and one boy.” My mother slapped Man-Man on the back of his head for eating with his fingers. “The baby is my grandson.”
“Oh wow,” Ms. Simms looked at Seven. “You have a beautiful baby.”
We all laughed.
“Ms. Simms,” I said, “Noah is my son.” Immediately, her face changed to a disgusted shock. She looked at Harlem. “You never told me Toi had a baby.”
“What’s the problem?” Cousin Shake asked. “They a package deal.”
“Yeah,” Ms. Minnie said. “We got a problem here?”
“Oh no.” Ms. Simms cleared her throat. “It’s no problem. And they should be a package deal. I completely understand.”
I felt so embarrassed. It was obvious that Ms. Simms wasn’t pleased with me having a baby. I couldn’t believe that Harlem didn’t say anything to her. We all ate dinner, and although we laughed and joked, my feelings were really hurt. Once dessert was served and everyone started holding their own conversations, I whispered to Harlem, “Why didn’t you tell your mother?”
“I didn’t get around to it. That’s it, Toi. No other reason.”
“Well, she didn’t seem too pleased with it.”
“Don’t worry about my mother. Worry about me.” He took Noah out of my hands, “’cause I ain’t going nowhere.”
For the rest of the party we had a good time, but I could tell that Ms. Simms was still upset.
18
“You’re not staying here, Tre.” I woke up to my parents’ arguing. It was almost like old times again. “No way.”
“Listen,” my father tried to speak quietly. “I wanna work things out with you.”
“Man, if you don’t get out my face,” she spat. I could hear her shuffling around in the kitchen. “I’m raising two women in here and they know what you put me through. If I let you just walk back into my life when you’ve showed me nothing that says you’ve changed or even deserve another chance, then what does that say to do them? That any man who begs should come back? No, not. I have a life and I will not have you interrupting it.”
“But I told you I was moving to Atlanta. I wanted to be closer to you when you move there.”
“I didn’t confirm Atlanta with you. Look, you’re here. Enjoy your children and that’s it. But after last night I don’t want you in my bed. Now excuse me—I have to get ready for work.”
“Ahhhhhhh!!!!!!” Cousin Shake screamed. I jumped out the bed and ran into the kitchen. When I got in there, I saw that everybody except my brother, who was on the porch selling Kool-Aid to a line of kids that wrapped around my mother’s porch, was in a panic. Cousin Shake was standing in the kitchen with a zebra print body suit on. “Somebody done been in my stash of Passion Fruit Alizé.”
“What?” my mother blinked, half-shielding her eyes while looking at Cousin Shake.
“You heard me, It’s gone. I was feeding my tender some grapes and went to pour some Alizé all over her fifty-year-old body and I was hit. De…ple…ted.”
“What in the world?” my mother said. Just then the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” Seven said. “Ma!” she yelled, “it’s for you.”
“Who is it?”
“It’s Ms. Margarite from down the street.”
My mother stormed to the door. She couldn’t stand Ms. Margarite. “I just want you to know,” Ms. Margarite said, “that all these kids outside on your porch is drunk! So much for your little Prince and his Kool-Aid stand.”
“What?” my mother snapped. “Amir!” she screamed, “get in here!”
Man-Man came inside, smiling a little too hard and a little too animated. It was a dead giveaway. We’d found exactly who’d ripped Cousin Shake off. “My apologies, Margarite,” my mother said. “I will take care of this.”
And the next thing I knew, all I could see was dust flying as my mother dug into Man-Man’s behind. When she was done, she blew the residue from her cuticles and he lay stretched out on the floor, looking as if all he needed was a white sheet draped over him.
19
Ever since Cousin Shake’s party, Harlem had been acting funny. He claimed that he wasn’t, but I could see the difference. We argued about everything and every time I said I’m going to leave him alone, I never do.
“You ready to go to the mall?” Harlem asked as he walked into my room. “Unless you want your new boyfriend to take you.”
“Don’t play,” I spat at Harlem while picking up Noah. “Are you ready?”
“See how she cuttin’ me off,” Harlem said to Noah. “Tell me, is your mommy on the creep?” He looked in Noah’s eyes. “You’d tell your daddy—” I knew he’d caught himself as soon as he said it.
The word daddy stuck in my ears and rang like a bad tune. I’d never thought of my son calling anybody daddy, especially since the meaning of the word turned out to equate to being hurt, at least to me, a hurt I didn’t want my son having to deal with. “You mean Harlem, not daddy.”
Harlem stood there for a moment, and just from the look on his face, I knew I’d hurt his feelings. But this was my son we were talking about, and suppose Harlem and I broke up one day. Then what? Noah would walk around here calling every man daddy? Please. So to avoid all that, we wouldn’t even start it.
“Yeah, you right,” Harlem remarked. “I meant Harlem.”
We stood there in a moment of awkward silence, staring at each other. “You still going to the mall or not?” he snapped, handing the baby to me. “Otherwise, I’ma bounce.”
“Yeah…I want to go to the mall, but if you don’t—”
“Well, let’s go then. I got something to do.” I went to hand Noah back to him and instead of taking him he said, “I’ll meet you in the car, Toi.”
For at least fifteen minutes we drove in dead silence. No radio playing, no CD. All we heard was the crackling of his lea
ther seats as I crossed one leg over the other and back again. I looked at Harlem and twisted my mouth. Before I could ask him what was his problem, Noah started crying, so I turned toward the back seat. I couldn’t find his pacifier anywhere back there but I knew there was one in the middle console. “Could you hand me his pacifier?” I asked.
And when I turned around to retrieve it, Harlem tossed it at me, just missing hitting my face. I snatched it mid-air and gave him the evil eye before placing the pacifier in Noah’s mouth. Instantly, he was quiet. I turned back to Harlem. “What is yo problem?”
“Go ’head, Toi,” he snapped, getting off the exit.
“Go ’head what?”
“This is exactly why,” he shook his head, “I didn’t want to get involved.”
“So what, you wanna bounce?”
“Maybe,” he said as his phone rang, and instead of letting it go to voicemail or placing it on vibrate, like he usually did, he answered it. Don’t ask me why but my heart pounded. I thought I heard a female voice, but I wasn’t sure. Maybe I was straining too hard, and since I really couldn’t hear the other end well, I watched Harlem’s face and listened closely to what he had to say, for confirmation. As soon as he started to smile and his words oozed out his mouth, I knew he was talking to another girl.
I felt stupid—scratch that, stupid didn’t even fit right then, after thinking he was perfect. I couldn’t believe that I was sitting there watching him kick it to a chick.
“Yo,” he said into the phone with ease. “I just been busy that’s all…don’t be like that…you know that’s not even the case…” I was sick to my stomach and yes, he was sitting there with me and not her…but my chest still felt cold in the center. All the times that Quamir kicked it with a chick in my face tortured my mind and I was boiling over. I couldn’t do it anymore. “Are you gon’ kick it wit’ your girl all night—or we gon’ deal with this?” And I said it loud enough so whoever he was talking to could hear me clearly.
Harlem looked at me like I was crazy and I’m sure he could see the tears welling behind my eyes. “This is my friend,” he said, “she’s like a sister to me.”
“A friend?” I cocked my neck to the side. “I been kickin’ it with you for a minute now and all of a sudden you got a friend?”
“Yes, a friend.” He pulled into the parking lot and placed the car in Park.
He returned his attention to the phone. “It’s cool,” he continued his conversation. I promise you, I wanted to scream. I hated female friends with a passion. They played your boyfriend against you. They knew all his male friends, they were always so accessible, and they thought they could tell your boyfriend about you. As far as I was concerned, they were nothin’ but rejected broads he didn’t or wouldn’t kick it to.
“Well then, tell your friend to come and be your girl, ’cause I’m done.” I reached for my purse and Noah’s baby bag. I wasn’t doing this again.
“Yo, let me talk to you later.” And Harlem hung up the phone. “Where are you going?” he asked me.
“Home.”
“Home?” he smirked. “Man, I’m not playing with you.”
“Tell it to your li’l friend.”
“Toi, it was nothin’.”
“Yeah, that’s what my daddy told my mother right before he moved to California and started a whole new family.”
“That hurt you, huh?”
“What you think?” I snapped. My sight was blurry with tears. They felt like the New Orleans levees.
Plain and simple, I felt like shit. I knew he was talking to another chick and I wasn’t about to sit there and take it. Honestly, it was almost like a part of me expected it. Harlem looked at me. I didn’t know what hurt more, what he did or the memory of what Quamir had done. I turned toward the window, while doing my best to restrain the tears bubbling in my eyes. He gently grasped my chin and turned my face toward him. “Yo, listen. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“But you did and you disrespected me. And I’m not beat to be treated like less than what I am, so if you have plans on doing what you did again, then what I’ma do is take my baby and we gon’ jet. Then you can go get your so-called friend and y’all can chill. Besides, didn’t you just say you wanted to bounce?”
“I didn’t mean that.”
I could tell he was sincere, but I didn’t care.
“What, you don’t love me no more?” he said.
“I’m not even gon’ acknowledge that.” If he wasn’t so big, I would slap him.
“Why you denying how you feel?”
“I’m not denying how I feel. You wanna know how I feel? I feel stupid and dumb, like this is a set-up for me to be played again. Well, guess what? Not this time. Oh, trust me, I’m so good on you. Besides, this doesn’t mean nothin’ to you. You ain’t sleeping with me.”
“Sleeping with you? What are you talking about?”
“Whatever.”
“Yo, if you got something you wanna know or you wanna ask, then you ask me. Don’t be slingin’ no b.s. at me!”
“Why haven’t we ever had sex, Harlem?”
“What, you feeling insecure? So tell me, Toi, when you suggest we have it? Before or after your mother walks in, or better yet, when Cousin Shake gives his speech of you ain’t got to go home but you gotta get the hell outta here. Yo, I’m good. When I want some, I’ll let you know. So chill.”
“Chill? You are such a liar. You know there’s times when they’re not home and it’s just you and me. You know my mother works at night.”
“Yo, what is this?” His jaw twitched. He was really pissed.
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“Know what, Toi, I don’t even see you right now.” Harlem hopped out his truck and took Noah out the back seat. “Another thing, you got a budget today.”
“Oh, you mad so I have a budget?”
“Yeah, ’cause you too wild with spending money. You got a son and you need to save. Suppose I ain’t here one day?”
“You plan on leaving?”
“You plan on pushing me away?”
Before I could respond, I heard, “You so silly,” float from behind me. “I’m so glad we’re having a girl.” Instinctively, I turned around. Quamir and some pregnant girl I’d never seen were behind me.
Quamir stared at me long and hard, then he diverted his gaze from me to Harlem then back again. And if I’m not mistaken, he had an attitude because Harlem was holding Noah. This had to be a joke.
“There go his father,” Harlem said snidely. “Excuse me, his daddy.”
“I see him.”
Nobody said anything to the other. We let our silence speak for us as we walked into the mall. Truthfully, I didn’t even feel like looking in any of the stores. But I just did it anyway to pass the time. I may have been mad, but I still wanted Harlem around.
We passed a few more stores, ate at the food court practically in silence and then I couldn’t take it anymore, so I said, “I’m ready to go.”
“Cool,” he said and we left.
Once we got to my house, Tay was there sitting on the porch. She asked if she could take Noah to her little cousin’s birthday party. After giving her some extra bottles and Pampers, Harlem and I were left alone. No one was home, except us, and we went to my room. “I’m so sick of making the same mistakes over and over again,” I said more to myself than to Harlem, but I’d said it loud enough for him to hear.
Harlem looked at me like I was crazy. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m just tired of bullshit.”
“Bullshit? Whose bullshit? Yo, say what you been dyin’ to say all day.”
“I’m sayin’ it!” I snapped.
“You ain’t sayin’ shit.”
“What you care for? Everyone knows you’re ashamed of me.”
“What the…” He looked at me crazy. “Yo, I gotta go.”
“What you runnin’ for?”
“I’m not runnin’ but you got issues. You don’t need a ma
n right now. You need to deal with you.”
“So why haven’t you answered my questions? Since I’m so wrong—”
“Because I can’t believe you.”
“I knew you were gon’ leave anyway, so whatever.” My throat was trembling. “Harlem…whatever.”
“Is that your answer to everything? Whatever? Let me tell you something I fell for you, because I thought you were about something. I was diggin’ you before I knew you had a son. But once I saw you with him, you reminded me of my mom, so I felt at home with you. You ain’t the only chick in the world, Toi, but you the only one I want. I can’t believe that I been around your family, went against my own bond, fell for you, and here you are acting like this. Yo for real. I’m out.”
I felt anxious; I knew if he left I would never see him again. And maybe this actually meant I needed to let him leave so that I could collect me, but I couldn’t. My head was spent. Was it a crime if I didn’t want to be alone? I truly needed some space and time where I could grow and just belong to me. I’d belonged to Noah, to my mother, to the welfare office, even a part of me still belonged to Quamir, but Harlem was for me. And at this moment, if at no other moment, I felt like he wanted me for me. “Don’t leave Harlem, please. I’m so so sorry. Please don’t go.”
“Nah, ma. I need to breathe. I just caught myself. I was slippin’.”
I rushed to the door and blocked his pathway. “Harlem, please. Don’t leave.”
Harlem took a deep breath and sat on the edge of my bed. He didn’t open his mouth. I could tell that I’d cut him deep, but what more could I say? The men in my life always turned out to have some type of game with them. My father was a cheater, Quamir was a cheater, a drug dealer, you name it. Now I had Harlem, who I could put money on would break my heart. I sniffed and stepped to the side. “Harlem, it’s cool, you can go. My fault. I’m not gon’ hold you back.”
