by Candice Dow
Each time I would open my lips to respond, the words would disappear. He continued to stab me. “Tay-Bae, you and I were a big mistake. She loves me. I can’t do this to her.”
The multiple stab wounds left me curled up in my bed, bawling like a baby. Finally, I was forced to defend myself from the attack. I yelled, “Why Scooter? Why did you wait until now? You knew you were going to stay! Why did you do this to me?”
He sighed. “Taylor, please believe me. I love you. I never meant to hurt you.”
I wailed, “Why are you hurting me?”
“It’s even harder to hurt her.”
After he’d kicked me out on the highway and stabbed me several times, he now pointed a loaded gun at me. Before he could cock the trigger and shatter me for life, I ended the call. The only words I could think of to hurt him rapidly fled from my lips. “I hate you. I hope you have a miserable life.”
I slammed the phone in the helpless receiver. Over and over again, I slammed it, wishing Scooter could feel the effect. I released one scream. Then another. I yelled, “Why me?”
This could not be real. My olive-colored room circled around me, washing me with its dull luster. My high ceilings stared down at me. I was belittled. Humiliated. A mistress alone in my own castle. I had been robbed of my pride and dignity.
Waterfalls poured from eyes. I fiddled with the charm bracelet dangling from my wrist. Blurred visions of the future I had imagined hung from every charm. I grabbed the phone from the receiver. Then, I quickly hung up. Instead, I turned the ringer off. It was too soon to tell the world how dumb I’d been. How could I explain his actions? What could I say? Was there some way for me to share the blame? Unanswered questions. Frightening realities. My chewed-up nails clamped to my hair. I was lost. Dumbfounded.
All the warnings from people reappeared as neon signs posted on my bare wall. THIS WON’T BE EASY. HE’S NOT LEAVING HER. BE CAREFUL. I HOPE YOU DON’T GET HURT. THESE KINDS OF SITUATIONS NEVER END PEACEFULLY.
I resigned to hibernate until I was woman enough to acknowledge they were right. In the midst of my insanity, I chuckled. Four years ago, I had the pick of the litter. As thirty whispered softly in my ear, piss was being tossed at me from a rusty bucket. I tucked my head under my flannel sheets to cover the embarrassment.
42
SCOOTER
When I opened the door to our bedroom, Taylor had packed everything. She sat on the side of the bed, staring into space. My head tilted to internalize this distorted picture. We’d been married less than a year. What was going on? I’d done everything to make her happy. I’d moved back to the DC area. Her stoned face crumbled my heart. She huffed. “This was a mistake from the start.”
I walked toward her. “What? Us?”
She nodded. Her lack of emotion resembled the same nonchalance as when we were teens. This was different. We are grown. We own a home. I knew we were having problems, but had it really come to this. My mouth hung open. “Taylor, what are you trying to say?”
“I’m going back to my townhouse.”
“What about the tenants?”
“Their lease was up two weeks ago.”
“I thought you said . . .”
As I attempted to tell her the lie she’d told me, I stopped. She had this planned all along. She never loved me. She wanted to be in a relationship and I was just the likely candidate at the time. I’ve always loved her more than she loved me.
As I stood before her and unscrambled my life, I tackled her. My anger controlled me as I shook her. “You ruined my life. Akua loved me. I left a good woman for you. You never loved me.”
That same premonition flashed before my eyes when I hung up the phone. It hurt me to hurt Taylor, but a piece of me knew she’d get over it. Akua sat on the bed beside me, rubbing my back. She sniffed. “Thank you,” she whispered.
I didn’t respond. I stood up and headed to my car to bring in the boxes. When I came back into the apartment, I replayed the scene that led to my final decision.
Akua was on her knees at the front door. Her arms wrapped around my legs. She wailed. “Please don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.”
When I tried to pull away, she tugged harder. Tears flung from her eyes. Snot dripped down her nose. I turned toward her so that she wouldn’t appear so desperate. When she loosened her grip, I kneeled in front of her. Obviously embarrassed by her reaction, she covered her face and shook her head. “Please.”
Her voice trembling, she said, “I love you. I need you.”
I peeled her arms from her face and wrapped mine around her neck. “Ku, baby. I thought you were okay.”
She choked on her spit. “I don’t want you to leave. I need you.” She yelled, “Please! Please, don’t leave me. Please don’t sign that lease. Please. I need you.”
I sniffed back my own tears. My heart ached. Nothing good would come to me if I left her here like this. This is a good woman with issues. What did she ever do to me, except love me with all her heart?
She wept on my shoulder and I tried to say what I’d been trying to for the last two weeks, “It doesn’t mean we’re not going to be together if I move. I need to make sure this is right.”
She sobbed. “It is right. She doesn’t love you like I love you. I’ll do anything.”
On her knees, she pleaded. Watching this soldier disarm before me robbed me of my strength. No woman has ever loved me this much. As I held her in my arms, I surrendered. “I’ll stay, baby. I’ll stay. I love you, too.”
I wiped her face. Exhausted from her battle, she stretched out on the floor. I lay beside her and wondered how and when I would conjure up the nerve to tell Taylor my decision. It took me seven hours to do it, but it was over now. I knew she hated me, but as I watched Akua unpack boxes as I fast as I could bring them in, I knew Taylor could never love me the way Akua does.
43
TAYLOR
The last month faded into the worn canvas I call life. I walked around like a zombie. What was my motive? Did I love him? Did he love me? A piece of me always knew he wouldn’t leave. Maybe my quest for Scooter was to kill the notion that I could only stay in a relationship for two months. So what if the relationship was with someone else’s somebody. I reached deep and chuckled.
Although I knew she never approved of the sneaky operation, Courtney cried with me. She came to my house every day after work. I sat in my pajamas, acting normal when she came to the door. She was stronger than me. My pity party had neared her threshold for compassion. I wiped my tears and hoped she didn’t notice the obvious.
She hugged me. “How do you feel, boo?”
“It still hurts.”
She plopped down beside me and rubbed my back. “I know.”
She consoled her friend, not the woman out to steal another woman’s man, as I started with my daily question, “Why me?”
She didn’t respond after the first ten times. Finally, she asked, “Do you think you’re the victim?”
As if the words were lodged in my throat, my mouth hung open. There was no sympathy in her eyes. I was the mistress. The tears stopped dripping from my eyes. She rationalized the situation while I sat stunned.
“Tay-Bae, you went to the reunion to get Scooter. You didn’t give a shit about his situation. You wanted him at all cost. As much as I hate to say this, this is the price you had to pay.”
My eyes shifted back and forth as I watched the distress in her every expression. I bit my lip and batted my eyes. Where was her sympathy?
“You are not the victim here, Taylor. If Scooter didn’t tell you he had a girl that would be one thing, but he told you up front.”
I sniffled as the tear that got stuck in my eye from the initial shock fell. She wiped my face and continued to tell me about myself. “You put yourself in this predicament.” She paused. Then, she called my name as if I wasn’t listening, “Taylor!”
I lifted my head. My face was wet all over again. I nodded. Her voice softened, “You’re not the victim here. A victim is an innoce
nt person. Shit! You’re an accomplice, if not the damn mastermind.”
I chuckled despite my pain. She rubbed my back. “I know it hurts, but I can’t keep sitting here letting you think you’re the victim.” She dabbed my face with tissues. “You’re going to move on and forget all of this. You’ll find a new man. A new relationship, but you may have killed their relationship. The trust in that relationship will never be the same.”
Akua was the woman. I was the other woman. She sympathized with her. I tried to understand me. “But their relationship was on the rocks when we hooked up.”
“Are you high?”
We laughed because I knew better. I told myself whatever I needed to get me through this situation. An I-don’t-believe-you-believe-that expression sat posed on her face for moments. It forced me to smile. She laughed. I laughed. “I know you know better, right?” she asked, shaking her head.
I wanted to believe that Scooter and I had something special. It wasn’t the typical everyday act of infidelity. Judging from Courtney’s expression, I was as stupid and naïve as any other woman in a love triangle.
She said, “Is any man really going to approach you and say, ‘I’m not leaving my girl. You down for a booty call?’ ” She chuckled. “It just doesn’t work like that.”
I nodded. She rubbed my back as she continued to preach. “When a man makes it his business to claim his woman that should be enough.” I sniffed and she patted my tears with tissue again. “The next time a man mentions anything close to having a girl, I want you to run as far and as fast as you can.”
I laughed again. She made sense. I decided not to interject. If he loved me, I wouldn’t be here crying. I needed to accept it was a lie from both ends.
Courtney smiled cautiously. “It’s no rush. Your turn will always come. It may not be when you want it, but . . .”
I gave her a high five and said, “It’s always right on time.”
She nodded. Based on the smile on my face, she knew her wisdom seeped in. I closed my eyes, hoping to block out the vision of naïveté. I opened up to Courtney smiling. I smiled back. “I hope I didn’t upset you, but I felt like you needed to hear it,” she said.
“I did.”
44
TAYLOR
When the invitation to Devin Patterson’s 30th Birthday Bash appeared in my in-box, I blushed. He remembered me. After the downward spiral I’d taken with Scooter, I have been on a dating hiatus over the last few months. I had to clear my mind and decide if it was my age driving me into a relationship or if it was what I really wanted.
I called Courtney. “Hey, girl. ‘I Love My People’ is having a party in New York in two weeks. You want to go?”
“Hell yeah. I’ll be anywhere his fine ass is.”
“You’re silly.”
“Did you call him or something?”
“No. Why?”
“I’m thinking if he sent you an invitation, then he’s probably still single.”
I huffed. I wasn’t in the mood for analyzing his status. If nothing more, fine single men know other fine single men. Birds of a feather flock together. We would definitely have a good choice of men to dance with. “I don’t know what he is, but we’re going.”
She laughed. “Tell me when and where, so I can have an alibi.”
“And an outfit.”
“True.”
I contemplated calling Devin before responding to the invite. Instead, I sent an RSVP for two people. Later that afternoon, he sent me an e-mail, asking if my other guest was my boyfriend. I responded that it was Courtney. In his response, he asked, “Courtney with the ring or Courtney without?”
I called Courtney to share the joke. She said, “Tell him Courtney without the ring and he better have some cute friends.”
“Very funny.”
I responded while she was on the phone. He sent a response back immediately. I said, “He said . . .”
Courtney laughed. “His ass is single. His ass is responding real time.” I laughed. Courtney joked. “Taylor, he is feeling you. Big time.”
“He did ask if he could call me.”
“Hell yeah!”
I interrupted her. “Calm down. I’m typing my numbers down.”
Shortly after, Devin called. “You know I thought I would never talk to you again.”
“I know.”
“I couldn’t do anything but respect you for trying to be a good girlfriend and stay away from temptation.”
“Good thinking.”
“So, how’s your relationship?”
“Over.”
“What?”
“Yes. It’s over.”
“Are you okay with it?”
I chuckled. “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.”
He laughed. “I’m just asking, baby. I’m concerned.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I am. Let’s hit a happy hour. Maybe I can play the role of Dr. Phil this time.”
I whined, “I don’t like role playing.”
“Honestly though. You want to hook up and chat?”
“Are you in town?”
“Yes, I have a few phone calls to make. Then, I’m heading over to the Grand Hyatt for happy hour.”
“What time are you getting there?”
“I’ll be there around five. I’m going to stop by the crib and change my clothes. Then, I’ll be there.”
I brushed off my khaki suit and figured it would have to suffice because I didn’t have time to change.
He called before I got to the hotel. I forgot to warn him that I’m always a fashionable fifteen minutes late. When I picked up, he chuckled. “Are you looking for parking?”
Since I was still driving up New York Avenue, I lied, “Yes.”
“Can you come scoop me up? I’m right outside of the Convention Center. I had to pick up something.”
As I sped through lights to get there, I said, “Okay, I’ll be around.”
I hung up the phone. He called back. “I’m the guy standing on the corner, looking like he got stood up.”
I laughed. “I’m coming Devin.”
“Are you even in this area?”
As I sped up to the light at Seventh Avenue, I said, “Yes, I’m across the street. I’m driving the Lexus . . .”
The light turned green and I saw him. I drifted through the intersection. With my phone still pinned to my ear, I admired the man flagging me down. My taxi was definitely available.
I pulled over to the curb. We smiled at each other as he walked to my car. He tried the door. It was locked. Finally, I snapped out of my trance and unlocked the doors.
When he sat in the car, he leaned over and kissed my cheek. I blushed. “Good to see you.”
“Good to see you too.” He pointed. “Go this way. You still want to go to the Hyatt, right?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m with you.”
“Good, because I’m with you.” He laughed. “You have the cutest facial expressions.”
“What do you mean?”
He pointed. “Like that little look you’re doing now.” My eyes shifted. He pointed again. “Your eye movements. You’re so funny.”
He looked around my car. “Looks like you’ve had a hard time with the breakup.”
I laughed. “Leave me alone. My car is always junky.”
When I stepped out of the car, he stared at me. My A-line, knee-length skirt bounced as I trotted toward the hotel. He smiled. “You look nice.”
He wore a navy suit. Prada shoes. Crisp dress shirt. I nodded. “You too.”
As we walked into the lounge, he said. “I’m dying to hear about what happened with you and your man.”
When I sat at the bar, Devin stood behind me and briefly massaged my shoulders. Finally, he sat beside me. He picked up the menu. My eyes gravitated to his watch. He had on a damn Breitling. Ten thousand dollars for a watch. I smiled. My kind of guy.
He studied the bar menu and finally asked for two glasses of Crown Royal Special Reserve on the rock
s. He smiled, acknowledging that he’d taken my advice. I smiled back and said, “So, has it worked?”
“I’m not sure it worked, but I like it. It’s actually my new drink of choice.”
“Good. But can I tell you something?”
“What?”
“I don’t drink mine straight. I have to mix it with a few things. I’m not that much of a soldier. Thanks for thinking of me though.”
“You are definitely something else.” He checked his expensive watch. “We have reservations at Oya at seven.”
Did I tell him that I planned to hang out with him all evening? He squinted. “So we either plan something to kill time or have our Dr. Phil session until then.”
“It doesn’t matter to me.”
“So what happened?”
“It just didn’t work out.”
“Now, Taylor. I thought we were better than that.”
I laughed. “What?”
“When we first met, you made me unveil all my issues.” He shook his head. “Now, you’re acting like you don’t want to talk about yours.” He tapped his knee against mine. “That’s busted.”
“Well, I told you that he had a girlfriend when we hooked up again, right?”
He nodded.
“Well he went back to her.”
“When you told me about it, I was hoping he wasn’t still messing with his old girl.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“It wasn’t my place. Especially at that moment. You just met me. I was obviously attracted to you. You would have thought I was hatin’.”
“You’re right.”
After two gulps of his Crown Royal, he asked, “So, do you think you’re over it?”
“Without a doubt.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, actually it’s kinda scary.”
He shook his head. “You didn’t love him.”
I frowned. He repeated, “You didn’t love him.”
“Why would you say that?”
“I could tell when you were telling me about him. You loved the thought of winning him back. You were holding on to this relationship from ten years ago that you walked out of when it was ideal. But what’s ideal when you’re nineteen ain’t ideal when you’re twenty-nine.”
