Mimi
I’m the most “bout it bout it” person I know. I zip-lined in Costa Rica. I dove off cliffs in Jamaica. And instead of growing out my perm a lil bit at a time, I shaved all my hair off to grow dreads the day after graduating from college. But going to twelve-step meetings for sex and love addicts had me feelin’ like I was a geek. I thought that running Jovan and his chick on the side off the road was gangsta, but the stories I heard in the meetings made me glad I started going when I did.
My sponsor Victor told me that his stripper troupe used to organize orgies with the women who attended their shows. One woman said she couldn’t stop having unprotected sex with men although she was HIV-positive. A man admitted that he used to be a Peeping Tom and kidnapped a kid from her bedroom. All of them were trying to recover. Every meeting I went to felt like an adventure, not only because of what I heard, but because I knew that in a crazy way I was like these people I now called my “fellows.” That was one of the program words I was learning. No, I had never gotten down in an orgy, given someone an STD or been a child molester, but I did act hella crazy when it came to sex and love. Victor helped me to see that. And he said it would only get worse until I did something about it.
I was going to ninety meetings in ninety days. That wasn’t a problem because I wasn’t working, although driving to Ashford Dunwoody every day from downtown wasn’t always easy. But I liked the convenience of going to one place for my counseling with CC and for recovery meetings. By Friday, I would be getting my ninety-day chip.
I was runnin’ late because of an accident on I-285 so I sneaked in as quietly as I could and sat near the back of the room. All the chairs were lined up side by side like in a classroom, and if you wanted to speak, you had to go to the podium in the front. I was leaning down to make sure my phone was off in my bag when I heard a voice I recognized, and not from a meeting. I looked up.
Damn. It was Richie, Whitney’s husband. I put my head back down so that we wouldn’t make eye contact.
“Up until three months ago, I was watching porn at least three hours a day. And I was thinking of hiring a prostitute. My disease had gotten out of control. But one day at a time I’ve stopped watching porn, and I’m starting to desire my wife again too.”
You never know who somebody is just by lookin’ at em. Richie looked like he could be on the cover of Country Club Magazine if there was one. Every time I saw him he had on some pastel Polo shirt with some too-snug khaki pants. But he sounded as sick as anyone else in the meeting. I thought about leaving to avoid seeing him, but I needed to get in a meeting today to get ninety meetings in ninety days.
Victor came up to me just after we finished saying the Serenity Prayer.
“Hey Richie, you need to meet Mimi. She is a newcomer too,” Victor said loudly.
I spun around and there was Whitney’s husband right in front of me. His eyes got all big.
“Mimi, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Richie said with a nervous laugh.
“Uh, me either… I mean, I mean, I didn’t expect to see you here either.”
“Oh, you met already?” Victor said, putting one hand on my back and the other on Richie’s.
“Yeah. We know each other outside of the meetings,” I said, looking at both of them.
“Oh snap,” he said with a laugh. “I hope y’all are good because this probably won’t be the last time you guys will run into each other in meetings.”
“Probably not,” I said, shaking my head.
“You guys look like you need to talk, so I’m going to excuse myself now,” Victor said, backing away.
Once he was out of earshot, Richie spoke again. “Whatever you do, don’t tell Whitney. She would kill herself if she found out that you know I’m coming to these meetings.”
“Hey, if you keep my secret, I’ll keep yours,” I shot back. “I been making headlines all year behind my relationship drama. I don need to add dis too.”
“Yeah, I heard about you losing your job at the radio station,” Richie said. “Sorry that happened.”
“Yeah, me too. On the other hand, I’m glad it happened when it did.”
“What do you mean?… Hey, I was going to stop at a McCormick & Schmick’s to eat lunch before I head back home. You want to join me? Maybe you can be my ‘program buddy.’”
I laughed. “Oh, so you learnin the new recovery lingo too?”
“Yeah, I learn a new word at every meeting, it seems,” he said with a laugh.
He stared at me like he was trying to read me. It’s not that Whitney’s husband was unfriendly, but he had barely said more than a few sentences to me. And now dude was asking me to lunch? He must be too scared I’m gonna tell Whitney what he shared in the meeting.
“Me too. Sure, I’m hungry,” I said.
We walked to the parking lot together, and I followed his silver Range Rover to the restaurant. After we were seated, Richie started up again.
“So what did you mean when you said that you are glad you got fired?”
“I’m not glad, but I been working in radio ever since I graduated from college and I never even wanted to be a deejay. I mean I’m good at it so I did it, but I always wanted to sing.”
“You went to Clark Atlanta, right?”
“Yeah, and I majored in music. I sang around town a few times like at Yin Yang or the Cotton Club, but I aine want to be no starving artist. So I got a radio deejay job and that’s what I’ve been doing ever since. So now maybe I’ll be forced to take my music seriously again.”
“That’s funny you’re telling me this today.” Richie looked down as he stabbed the ice with his straw in his glass of water.
“How you figure?”
“I had a photography business when I was at Morehouse,” he said. “I used to take pictures at different parties around town. I would email them to friends, and people started asking for me to take pictures at all kinds of events. Then some girls who wanted to be models hired me to take pictures for their portfolios.”
“So what happened?”
“During my senior year, I figured that I would be going away to medical school and I wouldn’t have time for photography anymore, so I stopped. Plus, my dad told me that photography wasn’t a profession, it was a hobby. Anyway, I’ve been thinking lately that I want to start my business again.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what step you’re on yet, but when I was writing out my fourth step, I realized that I was mad at myself for not following through with photography.”
“So you gon be a doctor and a photographer?” I asked with a laugh.
“I know it sounds crazy. I just thought I would take some photographs on the weekends or when I have time.”
“Well, I have all the time in the world now, so I have no excuse to not work on my singing career.”
“Want to know something funny?” Richie asked.
“What?” I said, wondering what other secrets I would find out about Whitney’s husband today.
“You’re not the only one who has been in the newspaper for something crazy.”
I scrunched up my face in disbelief. “Oh yeah? Not you?!”
“I was arrested in a poker bust when I was in medical school. Since my father is a big deal in town, my name was mentioned in the AJC. Plus, I almost got a DUI in college. I think I have addictive personality. So I don’t gamble or drink anymore. And now porn…”
“Does Whitney know all of this?” I asked, thinking Richie was more of a regular dude than Whitney made him seem.
“Yeah, she almost broke up with me after I was arrested, but when I asked her to marry me a few weeks later, she forgave me for my ‘indiscretion,’ as she put it. Plus my dad said I needed her stabilizing influence in my life.”
“Well, thanks for sharing,” I said like we were still in a meeting.
“I just thought I would tell you that so you know you’re not the only one,” he said before changing the subject. “So if you don’t mind
me asking, how are you going to pay your bills while you’re out of work?”
I laughed. “I know you probably think I’m a dingbat because of my dreads or maybe cuz of whatever Whitney told you about me, but I know how to save my money. Remember I told you I aine want to be no starving artist. I got some coins saved up, so I’m straight for a while.”
“I wish I could quit my job.”
“Bwoi stop,” I said as I chuckled. “You know Whitney aine having that! You probably need to get back to work right now.”
The more I listened to him, the cooler he seemed. Maybe he wasn’t the stick-up-the-ass dude he seemed to be. He always looked like he was either frowning, about to frown, or had just stopped frowning.
“I do have a late shift tonight,” Richie said.
“So what you doin’ all the way over here?”
“There’s a photography store on this side of town that I wanted to check out, so I thought I would check out this meeting afterward,” Richie said. “I usually go to meetings on Memorial Drive.”
“Yeah, I just go to this meeting,” I said. “So if you don’t mind me asking, is Victor is your sponsor too?”
“Yes, he is,” Richie said.
“Does he have you goin’ to ninety in ninety?”
“Yeah, I just finished mine last week. So you’re doing ninety in ninety too?” Richie said.
“Yep, and I’ll be done this Friday.”
“That’s cool,” he said. “I have another late shift on Friday so I’ll come watch you get your chip, unless you don’t want me to or have someone else coming. Whit came to my meeting last week to see me get my chip.”
“Whitney Duvernay-Brannon was at a Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous meeting?” I hollered in disbelief. “I guess this program does make miracles happen. I hadn’t thought about inviting anyone, but even if I did, no one I know knows I come to the meetings. I’m not ashamed or anything, but I wanted to wait until I had some recovery before I started telling people. Plus, it is an anonymous program.”
“I know—‘What you hear here, what you say here, when you leave here, let it stay here.’”
“Hear, hear,” I said, reciting the end of the recovery slogan.
“So I will see you on Friday?”
“Okay, that would be cool,” I said. “You know, when I saw you in the meeting, I was thinkin’ ’bout leaving because I aine want to make you feel uncomfortable, but I’m glad I stayed.”
“Me too. You know Victor has me making three calls a day to program people. You think it would be okay if I added you to my list of people who I call?”
“I have to call people too,” I said. “Why not?”
We programmed our numbers into each other’s cell phones.
“Okay, Miss Gayle, I need to get on the road now,” Richie said, as he pulled the bill toward him and slid out of the booth where we sat. “See you on Friday.”
“Cool,” I said. “See you then.”
Destination Wedding Meeting #8
As Jarena pulled into the circular driveway in front of Whitney’s house after driving for nearly a half mile on the gated Brannon property, she marveled at the virtual palace that a two-income household could afford. Their home was an imposing, European-styled fortress of windows, stucco, and stone. A lawyer and a doctor. They were the modern-day Huxtables, except in the lush green suburbs of metro Atlanta instead of the brownstone-laden Brooklyn.
They just need three more kids, Jarena said to herself but laughed out loud.
She maneuvered her Acura to park behind her friends’ vehicles. As she stepped out of her car, Senalda opened the door and waved.
“Hey, Jarena.”
“One of the good things about these meetings is that we are guaranteed to see each other every month,” Jarena said, walking over to her friend and hugging her.
“I know,” Senalda said. “So congratulations on getting into the ministry program at Emory! I can’t believe I’m going to have a minister as a friend!”
Whitney came over then. “Hey, welcome back to Henry County.”
“I know, right, with your OTP self,” Jarena said. “You know I must love you to go outside the perimeter.”
“OTP is for me,” Whitney said with a laugh.
“I’ve got to admit, y’all wannabe-Huxtables are living good outchea,” Jarena said.
“You’re crazy,” Whitney said.
“Okay, enough with all of the sentimentalities, let’s get down to business,” Senalda said. “We’re in the kitchen today.”
“In the kitchen?” Jarena said. “I know you didn’t cook anything.”
“No, I didn’t, but Whitney did, and she is going to teach us.”
Jarena waved to Mimi, who was slurping down a smoothie while sitting on a stool at the island of the huge kitchen, a granite-countertop and custom cabinet showpiece.
“Okay, well, let’s get to business. Whitney told me that one of the ways she believes she got Richie to propose was to cook for him. I know that I don’t cook very much, probably because I don’t have to. So I thought it would be educational for Whitney to make one of Richie’s favorite dishes for us,” Senalda said, as if she were conducting an official meeting at Wachovia Bank.
“So do you girls remember when Richie proposed to me on Christmas Eve?” Whitney said.
“How we could forget the ‘most romantic proposal in the world’?” Jarena said as she rolled her eyes. “You’ve told us the story a thousand times plus ten! He proposed to you on Christmas Eve at Anis Bistro in Buckhead in front of the whole restaurant.”
“Romance, schmomance,” Mimi said looking down, in between obnoxiously loud slurps of her smoothie. She couldn’t help but think of what Richie shared in and after meetings and how their marriage wasn’t what Whitney wanted everyone to believe.
“Careful Mimi, your bitterness is showing,” Jarena said with a laugh. “I still believe in love.”
“Ladies, we are veering off topic again,” Senalda said as she clapped her hands together. “You were saying, Whitney?”
“I know I’ve told y’all about my engagement story, but I’ve never told the back story to how I got engaged.”
Whitney recounted reading the Glamour magazine article about engagement chicken and how she made the dish shortly afterward.
“Seriously Whitney, you think Richie asked you to marry him cuz you cooked some chicken for him?” Mimi said as she got up and threw her Styrofoam cup away.
“I’m sure he was probably already thinking about it. I am irresistible, as you can see,” Whitney said with a straight face. “But y’all have got to admit it was a wonderful coincidence, and he has told me that it’s his favorite meal that I make. I mean, shrimp scampi is his favorite food, but engagement chicken is his favorite of all the foods that I cook for him. Whenever I make it, it’s like I cast a spell on him or something.”
“Isn’t that wild?” Senalda said. “So we have got to learn how to make this chicken! I’m definitely going to make it for Dexter ASAP. So show us how!”
The four women laughed as they prepared the meal, and later three of them sipped wine as the baking chicken filled the kitchen with its aroma. The sound of a slamming door interrupted the drunken laughter.
“Whit,” Richie called out with force.
“We’re in the kitchen,” Whitney called, sliding off of one of the stools near the island. With her wine glass in her hand, she walked over to meet him as he arrived at the kitchen door.
“Hey Whit,” he said before kissing her on the cheek. “Ladies.”
“Hey Richie,” the women said in unison.
“The chicken is almost ready,” Whitney said. “I can bring you some when it’s finally done baking.”
“Oh I forgot you said you were making your special chicken,” Richie said, his face pinched. “I picked up some shrimp scampi from McCormick & Schmick’s on the way home. Can you fix a plate for me, and I will take it to the hospital for lunch tomorrow?”
Mimi raised
her eyebrows as she sipped her wine.
“Oh, okay,” Whitney said, the tone of her voice changing. “Well, it’s been a long time since you’ve had your absolute favorite dish in the world.”
“Yeah?” Richie said, looking as if he wanted to ask a question. “Alright ladies, I will let you all get back to your meeting. Whit, I’m going to check on the twins. They’re upstairs, right?”
“Yes,” Whitney said to him as he walked away.
“Are you sho we shouldn’t be learning how to make shrimp scampi?” Mimi said. She put her wine glass down on the island countertop before releasing a hearty burp.
“Yuck, Mimi, and hush!” Jarena said, looking at her.
“If Whitney had made shrimp scampi a few weeks before Richie proposed to her, that is what we would be making. Who cares what he wants to eat tonight? She’s already got the man,” Senalda said, the overreaching defiance in her voice only highlighting Whitney’s silent embarrassment.
Whitney continued saying nothing, pulling the chicken from the stove and putting it down on the table for her friends to see the finished dish.
CHAPTER 10
September
Mimi
IT WAS A MONTH later, and I was still thinking ’bout what happened the Friday night after I received my ninety-day chip earlier in the day. After coming inside of my place with groceries, I put them down on the floor to dig my chip out of my wallet. I held the chip, which looked like a plain white gambling chip, in my hands. I hadn’t expected it to mean so much, but it represented that I took a gamble that cutting off all contact with Jovan and focusing on myself would make me feel better. And I did. And I was starting to feel that even if for some crazy-ass reason we never got back together, I would be alright.
That’s why my heart felt like it fell out of my chest when I saw Jovan’s text: “Are u at home? Can I come over? I got something 2 tell u.” I stopped putting away the groceries and just stood in my kitchen. Was this my Higher Power’s way of saying I was ready for him, and he was finally ready for me? Victor would probably disagree, but he wasn’t my Higher Power. I hadn’t heard from Jovan in a month. I read his text two more times, trying to decide what I should text back. I finally decided it was time we made up. All these months without me had finally taught him a lesson.
Destination Wedding Page 14
