by Derrick Jaxn
She turned around giggling to herself. “Boy you so crazy.”
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After dining and dashing, I went back to my apartment to salvage what was left to reorganize. Even though the place was still empty, I wanted to create a system built for a single man in his own castle without anyone there to dictate where to put things.
It was a lot different setting up the bathroom without the his and her sides of the sink. There wasn't much in the closet either except the old wire hangers they sneak in your bag when you go shopping for clothes.
In fact, there wasn't much in the house, period. It didn't have a personality to it, or a family feel, just an open space with pictures of Danielle and I that were about to come down. But a sense of pride swept over me. A lot like getting your first car; even though it may be a junk yard special, it's all yours.
The fridge was all mine too, and that's where my independence stopped being fun. I was already thinking about what I was going to eat, and seriously considering cooking for myself wasn't even an option. Jazmin must’ve read my mind because a few hours later, I got a dinner invite I simply could not refuse. After vacuuming the spaces now left empty and neatly putting my things away, I didn't waste any time at all.
I went back over to Jazmin’s apartment. She had a different t-shirt and panties combination this time with light make up and her hair down. Maybe she wanted to make up for the unpreparedness of my previous visit, but I didn't care. I could always appreciate a little effort from a woman to look presentable.
Regardless of how fine Jazmin was, there was none sexier than the meal she had laid before me. Grilled curry shrimp, coconut rice, macaroni and cheese, biscuits, and steamed vegetables. If God was a chef, his food would smell the same way hers did.
We ate, drank Kool-Aid, and laughed over immature topics we should’ve known better than to all night. It felt just like old times.
“No, Jazmin, no! You’re not getting off that easy, answer the question. Would you, or would you not cheat in a race against a physically handicapped person if it was for a million dollars and you were losing?"
“Ha-ha NO! That’s crazy, I don’t care how much money was up for grabs, that's foul and you know it."
“Oh, so you get a few years of college education and you too good to cut corners. Me? I would trip the hell out of Tink-Tink. I'd never be allowed to another Special Olympics as long as I lived. But I'd be rich."
“Oh whatever, okay this conversation is over. Do you want another plate before I put this up or not?”
“No, I’m good now, thanks. I enjoyed that. I almost forgot how good your feet taste in this food, girl. You gotta keep 'em out the pots or start charging for em.”
“Thank you, actually it’s my mom's foot you tastin'. I used her recipe and slow-cooked it a little longer than usual. Was you going home tonight or did you want me to bring you out some covers to crash on the couch?”
I didn't expect her to give me the option to stay. I wasn't in any hurry to leave with the 'itis' from my full stomach setting in, and I didn't have much at the house to run back to anyway.
“Well, I don't know what's better, the couch or the bed I got at home that's missing sheets and a comforter. She took those with everything else.”
“Okay, so I'll bring you some covers and Lewis got some shorts and a shirt you can sleep in too. Just put your things in the hamper AFTER your shower. I know damn well you ain't thinkin' you bout to be on my couch in all that filth?”
“No, no, of course not,” I said, pretending I had thought about it. I was all about being clean, but it was a little less of an incentive if I wasn't expecting sex that night. Most men feel the same way. They just won't tell women that.
“Aight then, well go ahead and take yours, and then I’ll hop in when you done. Don’t stay in all night either. Leave some hot water for me.”
“Won’t even take me five minutes.” If anybody knew something about taking quick wash-ups, it was me.
Her bathroom looked like it was straight from the TLC channel. She didn’t miss a single opportunity to let her personality show, from a matching toilet-seat cover and hand towels with her name stitched in both, all the way to the decorated medicine cabinet.
The bath-tub knobs were confusing me at first. You’d think the color-coded stripes above the knob would help, but I would have much rather seen a switch for an on/off function and a dial for temperature. Like a thermostat.
I kept the shower short and sweet so I wouldn’t overstay my welcome. I knew there were more meals where that one came from and didn’t want to miss any in the future. I put on Lewis’ shorts she gave me, but I didn’t realize just how small this guy was. It must’ve been how brothers felt back in the '70's who had to play in the NBA damn near flashing the fans every time they jumped up.
I couldn’t fit my arm through a single sleeve of the t-shirt and gave up before I ripped it or came out looking like I went shoplifting in the Baby Gap. When I came out to see she had made the couch up with sheets and a few pillows, it was music to my eyes. I was so tired, a drive home was out the question even if I did want to try and thankfully I didn’t have to answer to someone for where I was going to be. While I was getting comfortable, Jazmin was jumping in the shower. I closed my eyes and felt my internal organs going into auto pilot while the couch cushions gave way to my body. As soon as I started dozing off, I heard her calling my name from the bathroom.
"Shaaaaawn,"
“What?!” I yelled, hoping that I’d either get a "nothin’" or silence in reply.
“Can you come here please?!” Great. As soon as I warmed up the couch, I had to leave my hard work.
“Yeah, what you need?” I said walking up closer to the bathroom door.
“Can you look on the bed and grab my towel and robe please? I forgot to bring it in here. I’m not used to having guests.”
I don’t know why, but for some reason it bothered me to actually be referred to as guests. Just three years ago I was making her scream my name and now I had been reduced to just “guests”. But whatever. I went into the bedroom and grabbed her pink flowery robe and towel.
She heard the door open. “Just set it on the counter. Thanks.”
I walked over and set the robe down. Glanced over at the shower curtain. Even though it was foggy, it was still see-through enough to make out Jazmin’s silhouette and a few features like soap suds and nipples.
From the looks of things, her body had matured. Her hips were a bit wider, but her waist was just as small. It looked like she had been in the gym lately. Not running and starving, but lifting heavy, mostly squats. She deleted her unwanted curves and put a caps lock on the rest. Out of reflex, I was grabbing myself the longer I analyzed.
Not being able to see through the curtain in high definition mixed with hormones unsatisfied in months sent my body into an all out temper tantrum. I left the bathroom quickly and went back into the living room.
The couch wasn’t comfortable anymore and my sexual frustration was all too obvious in the gym shorts a few sizes too small. I pulled the cover over me and lay on my stomach, refusing to be obvious or even hint at being sexually aroused. It’d make everything awkward and with me being fresh out of my own relationship, she'd be nothing more than a rebound. Had too much respect for her to go that route.
Our friendship was the last thing I had going steady and I wasn’t about to ruin it. If I could just sleep it off, I'd live to fight another day.
***
My alarm was being rude and disrespectful, waking me out of what had potential to be a great dream. I tapped around the floor until I felt my phone. I had the mutant ability to unlock my screen and turn off the alarm without opening my eyes. After a few minutes of being in denial, I accepted the fact that my day was going to have to start eventually, so I got up and scanned the living room for my clothes to see Jazmin walking out of her room, fully dressed with her keys on her way out.
“I put your clothes at the foot of the
chair and food is on the stove. Make sure you lock the bottom lock on your way out,” She said, closing the door.
I looked over and reached for my clothes from the day before, now neatly folded to perfection and smelling like fresh-scented dryer cloths. Peeked over to the stove and saw a full breakfast spread laid out alongside two ham sandwiches in Gladware bowls. She had washed, dried, and folded my clothes, cooked breakfast, packed me a lunch, and got ready for her own classes. Without waking me up.
I could see why Lewis was in a hurry to put a ring on it. But the hospitality still didn't outweigh the feeling of waking up next to Danielle. As much as I hated to admit it, I was missing her.
She was wrong, dead wrong. But I knew I could’ve handled the situation better. I had never cursed at her before. I wasn't thinking about how stressed she could've been from work and school. People say things they don’t mean all the time, but a part of me couldn’t buy into her not meaning what she said.
Maybe she didn’t mean to say it how she said it, but her words came from somewhere, and if that place was her heart, then we had a problem.
I refused to be the one taking the first steps to reconcile; it was either she make a move or our separation was permanent.
Seeing her on campus was like a poker match; both of us looking into the eyes of the other to see who was going to fold. I wasn't working with a full house, but I wasn't going to let her know that. I was pretty sure she felt the same. We were two people who wanted the same thing, but both of us were too afraid of coming out and saying it.
My days got longer and I couldn’t focus on anything for two seconds without replaying the fight. Every now and then, someone would ask how I was feeling, and I had perfected the "I'm fine and you?" lie. Sometimes it’s easier to just fake a smile instead of telling people you're torn up. But I got tired of pouting, and reality set in that I was financially on my own again. I had to figure out what to do about the bills because they never took a day off.
Student loans were foreign to me since I went to school on a full athletic scholarship, but from my understanding, I could still get them if I wanted. Most of my peers used them to ball out at the mall, or pretend to be a rapper for a week, or fold it all up for a little Facebook photo shoot. My needs and common sense weren't going to afford me those luxuries.
I had maybe a week’s worth of clothes in my entire wardrobe, no dishes, no food, and no bedding. Sallie Mae was notorious for preying on people in these types of situations, but I had no choice.
I filled out the paperwork for a couple thousand dollars, enough to get back on my feet, and began plotting on more ways to bring in more income. There was no way it was going to last me the rest of the semester, so it was time to go job hunting.
That turned out to be as much of an occupation as the actual job I was trying to get. I went to every fast food joint, grocery store, clothing department. Hell, I was even about to go donate sperm. Luckily I came to a breakfast diner full of women that was short of a man to sexually harass, and I fit the bill.
"Hello, may I please speak to a manager?"
"I am the manager," said the lady at the front register in her bedroom voice. She had this creepy ass twinkle in her eye and scanned every stitch in my zipper as I walked in. I guessed her to be in her early to mid 40s, short, and heavy-set with curves in all the wrong places.
"Oh great. Well, I'm Shawn Fletcher and I was wondering if you were hiring for part-time?"
"It depends. What are your skills?" she said as she faintly stressed the 's' at the end for an uncomfortable two seconds.
"Um, well, I've never really been a cook or anything but I work very hard. I'm always on time, and I'm a quick learner."
"A quick learner, huh?" She looked back at the other waitresses who started snickering. All of them were rough on the eyes, and that much was clear from a distance. I was scared of what I'd discover up close. "Well, we could definitely use a quick learner with your, um, qualifications. As long as you're not too quick that is." She snickered to see if I caught the joke. I kept a straight face to pretend I didn't. "When can you start?"
"I guess I can start this week. But don't you want an application first?"
"Right. Come a little closer." I wasn't sure where this was going and I don't remember it being a part of the hiring process. "I'm not going to hurt you, come here."
I got closer to the register just within arm's reach, and she put her hand on my chest, felt around some, then poked at my arms.
"Your application looks and feels good to me. You hired. Be here tomorrow night at 10. You'll work the overnight third shift. If that's okay witchu?"
I had every right to be offended, but I was more relieved to have finally found a job. The overnight shift sounded tiring, but I'd rather be tired than broke.
"Yeah, sure, I can do that. Is there a uniform or something?"
She licked her lips and moaned under her breath. "Well, you don't have to wear anything.....in particular. I'll have your uniform here and you can change in my office or wherever you feel most comfortable."
"Right. Well, okay then. I'll see you tomorrow. Thank you so much. I won't let you down."
She mumbled something I did my best to not hear as I felt her eyes go straight to my ass on the way out. But, I was hired. That's what mattered.
Chapter 8
Lean On Me
If I knew how much money waiters made, I would've started a long time ago. I left work with at least $100 every day, mostly in ones which earned some judgmental looks when I went to the bank to make deposits. I'm pretty sure they assumed my income had something to do with a stripper pole and neon orange thongs, and I can't say it was much of a difference between the work environments. I was still objectified like a piece of meat every day, but so long as my faithful female customers were good tippers, it worked for both of us.
The hardest part was working overnight. I was lucky if I got three hours of rest. Sometimes I would go to class still in my work apron, and I began struggling at football practice. My manager was kind enough to give me days off before the games on Saturdays but not before I winked or gave her some other false hope that would suffice as a bribe.
I had never worked so hard in my life, but independence made the exhaustion well worth it. Yet, I could never stop thinking about Danielle.
I wasn't stuck playing love songs on repeat, but in the back of my mind I wondered if she was okay. Financially, I know she wasn't missing me, but who was watching her back on her way from work? Who was helping her relax after a long day? It scared me to consider the real possibilities so I snapped out of it and went on with my day.
Figured I better start investing that energy into reconstructing the relationship with my mother. I had always been a Momma's boy so I wasn't going to stay mad for very long. Besides, she had long since apologized for acting out of panic the day of the fight with Mr. Macklin, and then left him not too long afterwards.
Whether it was for her own good or not, I knew it was still bothering her. I could hear it in her voice how sad she had become when I called her before class every day. That in addition to my own broken love story was all the more reason to refocus on my first priority, family.
"Good morning Momma. You woke?"
"Yeah, I been up. Gettin' ready to head out to the office and make some phone calls. Hopefully I can get a closing on this property."
"Ah, don't worry about it. I'm sure you'll get it. Guess what. I got an email from an agent after the game Saturday. I looked him up and he's legit. He signs players to NFL teams every year for huge contracts, and while he didn't say it directly, he seems really interested in me."
"Oh really? That's nice. Did you email him back?"
"Nah"
"Why not?'
"I can't. Not yet anyway. It's against the rules. He was probably just tryna get first dibs, in case other agents had their sights set on me. I heard they're like sharks out there. What else you doin' today besides work?"
"Well, I gotta g
o by the leasing office and try to get an extension."
"Extension?"
"Yeah. These folks harassing me about this rent money I don't got. That's why I need this closing."
"Hold on. So you late on the rent? How much you owe?"
"Don't worry about it. Once I get this closing I won't owe anything. Times is tough for everybody and they charging for gas like it's pumping from the fountain of youth. Can't nobody catch a break, especially me. Hell, I'm tryna sell a house and I can't even buy one my damn self."
"Momma, tell me. I got a few dollars you can have if you need it to hold you over till you get the closing."
"No, you keep your money and keep doing what you're doing. I don't need you worrying about me. I can handle myself."
"I know you can, but I'm asking you to let me help you. You would help me if I needed it, right? You can't be an example of something you don't want me to follow. Now how much you need?"
"400 dollars."
"Wait, is that the full amount? You don't have even a part of the rent?"
"That's including the late fees. I was late last month too. It's just a rough time for me and I'd be damned if I ask Greg for a dime."
"Oh you and Mr. Macklin not even talking anymore? Well, all right. I got you. I can send it today so tell the landlord you got it."
"You don't have to do this, Bud. I'll get an extension on it and pay it later. I want you to focus on that schoolwork and your football." She was the only one I let call me Bud. It was a childhood nickname I had from resembling Kenny, a.k.a. Bud, from The Cosby Show as a child. I worked hard to live it down after puberty but I couldn't stop her from saying it.
"Look, I'm sending you the money. I gotta go now. I'm about to be late for class. I love you and drive safe."
"All right then, baby, I love you too and thank you. I'll pay you back as soon as I get it I promise."
"I don't need you to pay anything back. You're my mother. Now I'll talk to you later. Bye."
