Her Secret Life

by Tiffany L. Warren

  And why had he brought up swimming? Onika hoped he kept that particular hobby to himself if she decided to ever see him again. She was never going to stand in water that went above her waist, much less purposely put her face under.

  That was a sport that Judy and Earlene had ruined for her. She’d only been seven when she’d almost drowned at the church picnic. They’d watched those mean little boys from the church harass her and pull her hair. Thinking about it made the scene replay in her mind.

  Rowdy Gerald had said, “This ain’t yo’ real hair. It’s a white lady’s wig.”

  “It is not!” Onika had screamed helplessly as Earlene watched. Judy was as high as a kite, but Earlene had brought her to the picnic anyway, because Judy loved barbeque.

  “Yeah it is. Look at how nappy her mama hair is,” Jerome had said. “How her hair straight and her mama hair so nappy, look like it’ll break a comb.”

  Onika had hurled a small rock at Jerome; he’d artfully dodged it as he continued laughing at her cries and tears. Those two brothers thought they could do anything and say anything, just because they were the pastor’s nephews.

  “Her mama don’t comb her hair,” Gerald chimed in. “Crackheads don’t comb their hair.”

  Even at seven, Onika knew exactly what a crackhead was. Her mama was someone who sat around in the corner half the time, and the other half, she sat scratching her arm or asking Grandma Earlene for money or food, or anything that came to mind.

  Onika knew it was an insult. And she also knew that none of the adults who were standing around were doing anything to help her or stand up for her. She knew she’d have to stand up for herself.

  This time she hurled half a brick at Jerome and caught him right upside his head. He made a noise that sounded like a wounded puppy. Then both boys had rushed her at the same time.

  “Wonder what her wig will do when we dump her in the lake? You think it’ll fall off?” Gerald asked.

  Jerome replied, “Not sure, but let’s try it out.”

  They lifted her into the air, struggling, screaming, and crying. Right in front of her mother, grandmother, and the entire church. No one stopped them.

  Well, one person had tried. One of the church mothers had screamed for them to put Onika down, but the boys had laughed.

  Maybe no one had expected them to really throw her in the lake. Maybe they’d thought the boys would only scare Onika. It had all happened so quickly, and the events were now dull and blurry in Onika’s mind.

  But she remembered the terror of water rushing into her mouth, and her not knowing how to push it back out. She remembered the splashing and the feeling of helplessness. Then she remembered hands pulling her from what felt like a dark abyss but was just a small lake.

  They’d done CPR on her right on the grass next to the lake. They were still pressing on her chest when she’d regained consciousness. Judy had been standing in the crowd of spectators, like she didn’t have anything to do with her own child.

  Onika had turned her little head toward Judy and stretched her hand out in Judy’s direction. Judy hadn’t even acknowledged the gesture.

  And Onika, for the rest of her life, would probably remember the words Judy had said as she’d stood there scratching her arm and her head.

  “Why don’t she know how to swim?”

  No one had answered Judy’s question, because the answer was absurd. Onika didn’t know how to swim because her crackhead mother hadn’t ever been sober long enough to teach her.

  Now, Graham wanted to teach her to swim. Well, he’d have to get her in the water first.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Busboys and Poets was packed more than usual for a Friday night, and the hostess told Graham they’d be waiting half an hour for a table. This seemed to annoy Onika, as Graham watched her go from expressionless to a peeved grimace. He glanced down at her feet. Heels, of course.

  “Why do women do this to themselves?” Graham asked as he led Onika to the waiting area, since there were no open seats at the bar either.

  “Do what?”

  “Wear shoes that pinch your feet. Then you have an attitude when you have to stand for a long time.”

  Onika looked down at her feet and let out a little laugh. “I have always hated heels. I would much rather be wearing flip-flops right now.”

  “Let’s go over to CVS. There’s one right down the street. We’ll be back before they call our names.”

  Tears of laughter pooled in Onika’s eyes. “You want me to wear drug store flip-flops?”

  “No, I want you to stop making that face.”

  Graham took Onika’s hand and led her to the door. He told the hostess they’d be right back. The store was less than a block away, which was probably for the best, since Onika was already wobbly.

  Inside the drugstore, Graham grabbed a red basket from next to the door.

  “Why do you need that for one pair of flip-flops?” Onika asked.

  “We may see more things we need.”

  Giggling, Onika asked. “Like what, Graham? We came here for flip-flops.”

  “Like this. Cough drops.” Graham grabbed a bag of lozenges and dropped them in the basket.

  They walked down the aisles searching for flip-flops, but finding all kinds of interesting things to add to the basket. Onika picked up a pink bell with a picture of a cherry blossom on it and WASHINGTON, DC, painted on the bottom.

  “This is pretty, right?”

  “It is. Let’s get it,” Graham said.

  Graham was happy they were laughing. She’d seemed incapable of merriment after that somber ride over to the restaurant. He thought it had something to do with her learning how to swim, so he’d stay away from that topic until she was his girlfriend.

  “There they are. The flip-flops.” Graham pointed down the aisle with summer and picnic supplies.

  Sure enough, there was a discount pile with leftover American flags, water toys, and noisemakers for the Fourth of July. And there were red, white, and blue flip-flops with stars and stripes. Patriotic, plastic, and huge.

  “These are a men’s size ten,” Onika said as she picked them up.

  “Is that the only pair?”

  They looked all over the shelves for another pair, but that was it. One enormous pair of flip-flops for Onika’s tiny feet.

  “What size shoe do you wear?” Graham asked.

  “Six. A women’s size six!”

  “It’s either these, the heels, or we walk to another drugstore. There’s a CVS or a Walgreen’s on every other corner. I’m sure we won’t have to walk far.”

  Onika shook her head. “See, the thing is, I already got my feet prepared to go into flip-flops. They won’t last another block. They might not last to the front of this store.”

  “Well, put them on now, then. You can carry your heels around.”

  Graham held Onika steady while she ditched her sparkly heels and slid her petite feet into the flip-flops. Graham was surprised that her toes were just neatly cut and buffed, but plain. He’d expected polish as sparkly as her shoes.

  “Don’t look at my toes. I didn’t polish them because I was wearing closed-toe shoes.”

  “No judgment from me,” Graham said. “Maybe our second date can be pedicures.”

  “Two things. Second date? And you get pedicures?”

  Graham nodded. “I know you’re going to say yes when I ask. And yes, I get manicures and pedicures. And I hate when people say it’s metrosexual. I think it is just personal grooming.”

  Onika simply smiled. She didn’t say yes to the second date. But she also didn’t say no. Graham felt encouraged.

  “Let’s pay for this stuff, so we can make sure to get our seat at Busboys and Poets.”

  Graham placed all of their random items on the counter. Cough drops, the bell, some chopsticks, and a bag of peppermint puffs.

  “She’s wearing flip-flops, too,” Graham said to the cashier, a young guy who stared at Graham and Onika like they were on
drugs.

  After Graham paid for everything, he handed Onika the bell wrapped in a bit of newspaper.

  “Put this in your purse,” he said, “so you don’t forget to take it home.”

  Onika swallowed hard and took the bell from his hands. All of a sudden her good humor seemed to fade away. First, the swimming thing, and now mentioning what? Home? Graham bit his bottom lip and wondered if Onika was too high-maintenance for him. He didn’t know if he could deal with a girl who was up, down, up, down, then up again, and then back down in the dumps.

  When they got outside the drugstore again, Graham asked, “Are there certain things you don’t want me to talk about? I mean, we’ll be having a great time, and then all of a sudden you’re quiet and not laughing anymore.”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me this evening. I’m not usually this dramatic. You brought up a bad memory about the swimming. Honestly, I was just wondering where in my place I’m going to put my bell. There was nothing to it.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to trigger anything else except fun.”

  “Trigger? You think I’m nuts, don’t you?”

  Graham shook his head. “No crazier than the last woman I went on a date with. She’s definitely crazier than you.”

  “Well, as long as you know it could be worse.”

  “Absolutely. And you’re way hotter than her, anyway. Hotness goes a long way.”

  “You’d date an unstable girl if she was gorgeous?” Onika asked.

  Graham pulled the door to Busboys and Poets open for Onika before he answered the question. The answer was complex, and he was trying to think of a way to deliver it without sounding like a Neanderthal.

  “In the past . . . I may have spent time with an unstable girl a time or two, but I wouldn’t call it dating.”

  “What would you call it then?” Onika asked. Her face shone with curiosity.

  “It was just sex. I’m not proud of it, though. That was when I was a much younger man.”

  “You’re not that old now, are you?”

  “Thirty-one,” Graham said. “Do I look younger?”

  “You do. I turn twenty-seven this year. So I’m closing in on that dirty thirty.”

  The hostess alerted Graham that their table was ready, so they followed her through the insanely packed restaurant to their seats. Although it was only a few steps, Graham got to enjoy the sway of Onika’s hips in her red miniskirt. He could watch that movement all night. Those hips could hypnotize him, have him saying “your wish is my command” and then spending all he had to make those wishes reality.

  He pulled out the chair for Onika, and she gave him an appreciative smile in return. Her smile was just as hypnotic as her body. Her laugh was an opiate. He’d been high all night long.

  Graham was smitten.

  “I think we should plan our third date, too. I want to get on your calendar before the school year starts,” Graham said.

  “So pedicures for the second date. Which needs to happen quickly, because you already saw my feet,” Onika said.

  “Tomorrow, if you want. I can come and pick you up.”

  “Send me the spot and I’ll meet you there.”

  “You don’t want me to know where you live?” Graham asked.

  “Not particularly, no. We just met.”

  Graham processed this for a moment and then just accepted it. He wasn’t a woman. He didn’t know what it felt like to not feel safe all the time. So he’d let that one go.

  The waitress came to the table, and without even glancing at the menu, Graham knew what he was having. He’d had the shrimp and grits dozens of times and had never been disappointed.

  “What’s good here?” Onika asked.

  “Depends on what you like,” Graham said. “Are you a meat and potatoes girl, fried chicken, or seafood?”

  “All of the above, but tonight I think I’m in the mood for seafood.”

  “The shrimp and grits is very good,” the waitress said. “It’s my favorite.”

  “Then I’ll go with that,” Onika said.

  “I was going to order that, too. It’s also my favorite,” Graham said.

  “Well, then give me something different. The pan-fried catfish,” Onika said.

  The waitress nodded and walked away to put in their orders.

  “Why couldn’t we eat the same thing?” Graham asked.

  Onika smiled. “Well, that’s a waste. You only ever need three bites of food to experience a meal. We should experience two different entrées.”

  “Three bites of food to experience a meal? Did your nutritionist tell you that?”

  “Nah. My grandmother used to watch Oprah. I heard a guest on the show say it, and then I tested it out. It’s true. After three bites, I really don’t need to eat any more.”

  “Did you live with your grandmother?”

  Onika paused. Oh man, had he brought up another sad situation?

  Finally, she nodded. “I did. Never met my dad. My mom died when I was little.”

  “I wish I had known my grandmothers. They were both gone by the time I was born,” Graham said, trying to get the focus off of Onika’s situation. He didn’t want her to become somber again.

  “Do you have any kids?” Onika asked.

  “No. Do you not date guys with children?”

  “It’s never come up before. I’ve only ever dated one guy. But I don’t think I’d like to be with a man with children.”

  Onika was still talking, but Graham’s eyes had glazed over. Her lips were moving, but the sound wasn’t making it to Graham’s ears. Did she say she’d only ever dated one guy? That didn’t make sense at all. As fine as she was, she had to have had guys lining up as soon as she hit puberty. How could a pretty girl make it to twenty-seven and only have had one boyfriend?

  “Are you leaving out the boyfriends you had in high school? You’re talking about you’ve only been in one adult relationship?”

  Onika shook her head. “No. I mean I’ve only ever dated one guy. Met him in college. None before that, and none after. My grandmother was strict. Church of God in Christ strict.”

  “Oh, now I get it. I was about to ask you if you were born a woman.”

  “You went way left, didn’t you?”

  Graham shook his head. “No, I didn’t. I would like to think I would be able to tell, but . . .”

  “I know some transwomen that you wouldn’t know were born with the same parts you were. I went to school in Atlanta. I’ve seen it all.”

  The conversation was starting to make Graham uncomfortable.

  “You go to a COGIC church here in DC? There are quite a few good ones.”

  Onika laughed out loud and almost choked on the water she was sipping. “I don’t go to church, Graham.”

  “Oh, are you an atheist?”

  Graham wished he hadn’t asked the question as soon as it came out of his mouth. He had no idea what he would do if the answer was yes. He was unapologetically Christian and had never dated a woman who didn’t believe in God. He definitely couldn’t marry one, and his fantasies about Onika had carried him all the way to their wedding day.

  “No, not an atheist. I just don’t do church.”

  “Do you think it’s just because you haven’t found the right church?”

  “I don’t think I need church or a preacher to believe in God. I believe there is a higher power, because this universe is amazing, but I don’t think we can pray to Him and get what we want.”

  “I believe when we pray we don’t necessarily get what we want, but we get what we need.”

  Onika said nothing else. She sipped her water and gazed at Graham. She didn’t seem to be bothered by the lack of conversation, but Graham panicked. He’d come across yet another touchy subject on the first date. He would be lucky if he made it to the second. He’d be lucky if she didn’t get up and walk out.

  But she wasn’t moving.

  “You know, you’re not even my type, but I like you,” Onika sa
id, breaking the silence.

  “How do you know what your type is if you’ve only dated one guy?”

  “It takes me a while to choose, but when I do, I stand by my choice. The guy I dated was my type in every way but one.”

  “What was the one thing?”

  “He needed more than one woman at a time. He was polyamorous.”

  “Is that the new word for it now?” Graham asked. “I thought it was just called being a player.”

  “Except that he wasn’t. He didn’t lie about it.”

  Graham sat back in his chair, astonished. He got the feeling that he was in over his head with this woman. She seemed damaged and complicated, yet enlightened. She was insecure and maybe a little arrogant. She was modern and sophisticated, but the southern charm shone through. She was a series of beautiful contradictions.

  And he wanted her.

  After dinner, Graham and Onika moved from the table to one of the more comfortable couches to enjoy the spoken word. None of the poets moved Graham more than the feeling he got from having Onika’s thigh graze his on the love seat. Onika cozied up against Graham, and her perfume intoxicated him. He wanted to kiss her neck, which was elegantly exposed, but he restrained himself, unsure if the touch would be welcome and not wanting to extinguish the new flame.

  “This is nice,” she said after the third poet shared words about love and loss. “I’m glad I came.”

  “Me too.”

  Graham’s words came out throaty and rough, because it had been a long time since he’d been pressed against a woman he liked this much. He didn’t want to do anything to ruin the moment or embarrass himself.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  He only nodded and pulled her closer. Instead of kissing her, he settled for inhaling her hair. The curls smelled like coconut oil.

  When the set was over, Graham sighed. He didn’t want the date to be over. He wanted to keep cuddling with Onika until the sun came up.

  They left the restaurant, and although it was late, they strolled down the street. Not hand in hand, but close enough that their arms grazed every few moments.

  “It’s late. I should probably be heading home,” Onika said after a few minutes of peaceful silence.