Forever An Ex

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  “So, when did this happen?” Noon said, all awake now.

  “Can you meet me?”

  “When?”

  “Now. Are you with Brett?”

  “Yeah, but I can hook up with you for a few hours. Where we gonna go so early on New Year’s Day?”

  That was a good question, but then I said, “The malls are open, so meet me at the Beverly Center. Starbucks. In the food court.”

  “The Food Court?” Noon said. “Is that the name of some new restaurant, ’cause you know, I’m not pedestrian like that.”

  “Pedestrian?” I laughed. “Heffa, have you forgotten that we grew up on the same street in Compton?”

  “Shhh . . .” She lowered her voice and chuckled at the same time. “Brett thinks I’m from Kenya.”

  “I’m gonna tell that white boy the truth if you don’t meet me in an hour.”

  “I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” she said.

  We laughed before we both clicked off our phones.

  Chapter

  Two

  Noon had told Brett Washington (the only white person—besides the first president—that I knew with that last name) that she was from Kenya because she was convinced white men loved exotic black women.

  But she didn’t have to tell that lie. Noon Jones was exotic. She was far from the days when the mean girls at school used to follow us from the yard to the halls taunting her with chants of “Kunta Kinte’s sister!”

  It wasn’t much better for me. They used to bully me, telling me that I thought I was cute because I looked like an Indian.

  I never told Noon this, but as bad as it was for me, I really felt awful for her. I mean, it was horrible enough being outcasts—she, because they said she was ugly, and me, because they said I was cute. But the truth was, I thought those girls were right—Noon was way below average. She had this long neck that made her look like a chicken, and legs to match. And not only was she tall and skinny, but her skin was really dark, like the color of burned charcoal.

  Then she did that caterpillar-butterfly thing. By the time we were eighteen, she was top-model gorgeous, with her oval-shaped face, light brown eyes, and full African lips that people paid top dollar to get.

  But it was her skin that made her so beautiful. Her black skin that looked like it had been polished to a high shine and was as smooth and soft as any piece of silk ever woven. I’m telling you, there wasn’t a model alive who was as gorgeous as Noon.

  That was my thought as I came to the top of the escalator and saw my friend, sitting in the center of the food court. Even from all these feet away, I could see that she didn’t have on a lick of makeup beyond the mink eyelashes that we both wore every single day. And she was still the best-looking woman in the mall.

  “What’s up?” I stepped in front of her. “Happy New Year,” I said, giving her a hug.

  “Same to you, honey!”

  Then Noon’s eyes made a slow journey over my body. She checked out my black skinny jeans, black blazer, and red T-strap stilettos, and I checked out her sapphire-blue leather pants and matching blazer. Then, we nodded our approval.

  Every time we got together, we checked each other. Whether we were partying or strolling on Venice Beach, we kept each other on point. Noon had the same career I had; in fact, she was a trophy girl because of me. So we took our first responsibility to look good seriously. I’m telling you, if I was just going out to pump gas (not that I would ever pump my own gas) . . . but if the world turned upside down and I had to do that, I’d have to pump and be camera-ready at the same time.

  “So let’s get past all the niceties. You and Bobby are getting back together?”

  On the phone, Noon had sounded excited, but, with the way she twisted her lips, I could see that now, she was more skeptical than excited.

  I sat up straight, placed my hands on the tabletop, ready to tell all. “Well . . .”

  Before I could get another word out, Noon said, “ ’Cause after what went down at Christmas, I’m surprised he’s even speaking to you.”

  “Dang,” I said, pushing back in my chair. “What a way to bust someone’s high.”

  She shrugged. “I’m just keeping it one hundred. Christmas was a wreck.”

  “First of all, Christmas wasn’t my fault,” I told Noon.

  Yes, Christmas at Bobby’s house had been a disaster and I’d told Noon most of what had happened: how Bobby and Angel had begged me to let them spend Christmas Day together for the first time, and how I’d only agreed because it meant so much to our daughter, and how I’d known it would be a disaster.

  And I was right. Talk about an effed-up holiday. From the moment I got to Bobby’s, his wife, Caroline, the Dallas-bred socialite, ignored me, embarrassed me, tortured me, and finally sat me at the kiddie table for dinner. I’d tried to keep it classy, but the bottle of Moscato I’d drunk didn’t help, and I practically tore that place and Caroline up.

  “And secondly,” I said, continuing to set Noon straight, “there’s something you don’t know about Christmas.” I took a deep breath. “It was bad with Caroline, but not with Bobby.” A pause. “Bobby and I kissed.”

  She widened her eyes just a bit. “Like a kiss kiss?”

  I nodded. “Like a real kiss! A kiss where our lips met and our tongues danced, then—”

  Noon slapped her hand on the table. “Shut the front door! Where did this happen?”

  “Remember, I got drunk, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, I got so drunk, I couldn’t drive and I went up to Angel’s room to sleep it off. Bobby came to check on me.”

  “And he kissed you just like that?”

  “Yup. We talked a little and then he kissed me just like that. And the best part”—I paused, wanting Noon to be sitting on the edge for this one—“Caroline saw us!”

  “Get the freak out of here!” Noon rose a couple of inches out of her chair. “She saw you kissing her husband and you’re not dead?”

  “Please, I wish she would come at me like that; you’d be reading about her beat-down in the L.A. Times. And anyway, it was her fault for spying. She knew she was wrong. That’s why she walked away.”

  “Hold up,” Noon said. “She just walked away?”

  I nodded.

  “She didn’t say anything?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, what did Bobby say?”

  “He didn’t see her and I didn’t tell him. I wasn’t gonna get in the middle of their drama.”

  Noon laughed. “You’re kissing her husband and you’re not in the middle?”

  I waved my hand. “Whatever. These are two different relationships—Caroline and Bobby, and me and Bobby. I can’t be concerned about them when I have me and Bobby to think about. And, I’m telling you, Noon, that’s all I’ve been thinking about since Christmas. ’Cause when we kissed, it felt like we were right back where we used to be.”

  “Really?”

  “It was a love kind of kiss,” I said. “All I’ve been hoping for since then was that Bobby felt the same.”

  “But suppose it wasn’t a love kiss? Suppose it was just a lust kiss? Or an I-hope-you-feel-better kiss?”

  I shook my head. “Nope, it’s none of the above. Because he called this morning and said he couldn’t wait for us to talk about what happened at Christmas.” I banged back in my chair, all smiles.

  Noon stared at me like I was an oak tree. “And?”

  “And what?”

  “That’s it?”

  “What more does there need to be? I mean, how many times in the last six, going-on-seven years has he called and said he wanted to get together?” I didn’t give her a chance to answer. “Nada! Not even once. Not even to talk about Angel. We do all of Angel’s business on the phone. But now Bobby wants us to get together.”

 
She nodded. “Okay, but suppose he just wants to talk about all that New York stuff? Suppose he just wants to talk about him and Caroline moving Angel to New York with them?”

  It was a good thing that I wasn’t drinking because my girl would’ve completely ruined my buzz. But she was right—I hadn’t thought about that. New York was another fiasco at Christmas. Caroline had told me that she and Bobby were moving to New York and they were taking my daughter so that Angel could pursue her modeling/acting/singing career. That was what really set me off that day.

  Since Christmas, I hadn’t talked about New York. Not with Angel, nor with Bobby. I figured if I didn’t say a word, it would go away. Now that Noon mentioned it, I wondered if that’s what Bobby’s call was about.

  But then I shook my head. I wasn’t going to let Noon talk me out of what I knew.

  “No,” I told Noon. “This is all about me and him. Trust that.”

  My confidence must’ve convinced her. “So let’s say you’re right and he wants to get back with you. Do you think it would be for anything more than what it was before? You think you’ll be more than his jump-off?”

  It was a good thing I didn’t have a drink in front of me ’cause I would’ve thrown it right in Noon’s face. Well, maybe not, ’cause she’s my girl and all. But it was like she was on a serious mission to bring me down. Calling me Bobby’s jump-off? Really?

  “I was with Bobby Johnson for ten years,” I snapped. “That is not a jump-off. Bobby never saw me as just his chick on the side. If he did, he would’ve just continued our affair and kept me hidden away. But he didn’t want to do that

  to me.”

  Noon shook her head. “Uh . . . that’s a nice little rewrite of history, but Bobby didn’t keep you because his wife told him to get rid of you.”

  I blew out a long breath. I needed to carry a bottle of Moscato with me for times like these. ’Cause Noon was seriously killing my natural high. Why did she have to remind me about every little detail? “What’s up with the negativity?” I asked. “You’re supposed to be my girl.”

  “I am and that’s why I’m keepin’ it real. ’Cause if you really want Bobby back, you need to think this through. You can’t just leave it up to him; men don’t know what they want. You’re gonna have to push Bobby to do what’s right. And I’m here to help.”

  Noon had always admired my relationship with Bobby. While she’d gone from man to man, Bobby and I had ten solid years and a kid. Once Angel was born, Noon thought Bobby should’ve done the right thing and left his wife—since he didn’t have any children with Caroline.

  “Here’s the question . . .” Noon paused as if something big was coming. “Even if Bobby does want to hook up with you again, would he ever leave his wife for you?”

  Lord, I really needed a drink now, but how could I be mad? Because it was a good question. He hadn’t left Caroline before; why would he do it now?

  Noon said, “Caroline has it all; she’s beautiful, she’s smart, she has her own life . . . and she comes from all of that oil money.”

  I started slipping down in the chair. Depression was coming on fast. How had I gotten so carried away? Why would Bobby ever choose me over Caroline? She had everything Noon said, plus more. She was so refined, so classy; if I didn’t hate her, I’d admire her.

  “I’m sure I’m better in bed,” I said, trying to get at least a point on the board.

  “That wasn’t enough to keep Bobby before.”

  I sighed. Forget about getting a drink when I got home; I glanced around the food court. I sure wished Baja Fresh served wine with their burritos.

  “So what am I going to do?” I asked, feeling totally discouraged.

  Noon leaned across the table. “Do you really want Bobby back?”

  I nodded. “You don’t know this, but I never stopped loving him.”

  At first, Noon stared at me like she was shocked, and then she busted out into a laugh that filled the entire eighth floor of the mall. And she wouldn’t stop. Just laughed until she cried.

  “What the hizzy?”

  “Do you think I didn’t know that you still loved Bobby?”

  I pouted. “It was obvious?”

  She nodded like she felt sorry for me. “Just the way you say,” she sang, “Booooobbbbyyy,” as if his name had seven syllables.

  I slapped her arm, but I had to grin. “Really? Like that?”

  She nodded again. “But that’s not a bad thing. Before Bobby and after him, there hasn’t been one man who came close to making you as happy. Bobby Johnson is like in your bones. I’m convinced he’s the love of your life.”

  Noon was wrong. Bobby was more than that; he was my love for life. No matter how many men I dated, Bobby was always in my head and always in my heart.

  “But here’s the thing . . . how’re you gonna get Bobby? What’s gonna make him leave Caroline for you?”

  “I don’t know,” I whined.

  “It has to be something that you have over Caroline.”

  Now I felt like crying. “I have nothing!”

  “Yes, you do.”

  I perked up a little at Noon’s words, but I had no idea what she was talking about.

  She said, “Just think, Asia.”

  I frowned and in my head I scrolled through my assets. I could come up with a few things, but everything I had, Caroline had, too . . . in a double dose.

  “Think, think,” Noon said, encouraging me.

  I closed my eyes as if the answer was somewhere behind my eyelids.

  “Oh, my God,” I said, popping my eyes open.

  Noon smiled and nodded her head slowly.

  Then together we said, “A baby!”

  That was it. I could give Bobby a baby. Like I said, Bobby and Caroline didn’t have any children, though he had never discussed that with me. I just figured his wife couldn’t get pregnant.

  So, if I were to get pregnant again with Bobby’s child, would he leave Caroline? Hell, maybe it didn’t matter. If I got pregnant, Caroline would definitely leave him. She’d forgiven him for having one child during their marriage, and had even done the right thing, accepting and loving Angel.

  But there was no way she’d accept a second baby. Caroline would be up and gone and I’d win the prize.

  I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do it, but getting pregnant was definitely something to consider.

  Chapter

  Three

  So, have you made any progress with Plan B?” Noon asked. That’s what she’d called the plan she’d come up with for me to get pregnant by Bobby—Plan Bobby.

  As I stood at the sink, I peeked over my shoulder at Angel scooping a spoonful of cereal from a bowl. Her eyes were on her tablet as she watched some TV show. I didn’t think she even realized I was there, but still, I pressed the cell phone closer to my ear and spoke the code words to Noon. “This is one of those do-not-disturb moments.”

  “Oh, who’s there?” Noon asked. “Angel?”

  “Yup.”

  But then, “Mom!”

  I turned around.

  “I know what ‘do not disturb’ means,” my too-smart-for-her-own-good daughter said. “But I’m grown now, so you can talk in front of me.”

  Grown? I had no idea who’d told her that, and as soon as I got off this phone, we were going to discuss her definition of grown.

  “Anyway”—I turned my focus back to Noon—“nothing’s happened on that front.”

  “He hasn’t called?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Age has really changed you. The old Asia would’ve had Bobby in bed five times by now.”

  “We just talked about this five days ago.”

  “Okay, so you would’ve had him in bed four times.” Noon laughed. “So what’re your plans? How’re you gonna get him?”

  Again I peeked at Angel
. “I’m gonna let nature take its course because I’m convinced no tricks are necessary.”

  “I’m not saying a baby is necessary; I’m saying a baby is insurance.”

  I sighed. What Noon was saying was probably true, but after really thinking about it, I just didn’t want to do it that way. Because there were no guarantees that he’d be happy if I got pregnant.

  The last time I told Bobby I was pregnant, he was sure that I’d tricked him. I had, but that wasn’t the point. I was pregnant and he needed to do the right thing.

  But he was livid. He’d ranted about his wife, he’d raved about how I’d ruined his life.

  That lasted for, like, a day. The idea of having a baby grew on him, and that was when we bought this condo together—with all of his money, of course. And then, once Angel was born . . . on Valentine’s Day . . . he fell in love with his baby girl. I was convinced he would finally leave Caroline and marry me.

  Well . . . that never happened. So, I wasn’t sure it would go down better this time.

  Noon broke through all of my thoughts. “I’m telling you, two children by the same woman? That’s a game changer. Bobby will either leave Caroline, or she will leave him. Either way, you win.”

  “If I decide to do that, I hope you’re right.”

  “If you decide? Haven’t you heard anything I’ve said?”

  “Yeah, but suppose I don’t need all of that? Suppose it’s exactly the way I’ve told you?”

  “About a little kiss on Christmas?”

  “It wasn’t little.”

  “And because of a kiss, he suddenly wants a relationship with you?”

  When she said it like that, it did sound dumb. But Noon didn’t see it, she didn’t feel it. She didn’t know that it was more than just the kiss. It was the way he’d held me, the way he’d made me feel. “Yeah,” and then I lowered my voice even more: “I think he does want me.”

  She sighed as if I was dense. “Just consider Plan B. In case I’m right about why he really wants to talk to you.”