by Ava Frost
“I said, first you can stop sleeping with my husband,” She said, pushing some button within the vehicle so the car door closed automatically and putting her hands on her hips.
“And how do you know I’m sleeping with your husband?” I asked bending forward to encourage more airflow. I would have put my head between my knees but as I said before, I did not know if this woman was crazy. If she started swinging, I wanted to be aware of it before I felt a knot growing on my head.
“You are Veronica Lewis, yes?”
I nodded lamely.
“I read my husband’s phone records. He calls you almost every day. He visits you as well. Over the past year, he has brought you lunches I prepared him, brought you to dance halls I suggested for our date nights and visited you nights he thought I would be working late, but never stayed the night.”
I had to hand it to her. She had done her research. I had questioned several times the truth behind his never spending the night and never introducing me to his family. Now I knew. Knowing lit an angry fire in me. “I had no idea.” I breathed easily knowing that if this woman proved sane, we’d probably be kicking some ass together soon.
“I’m aware. I didn’t think you knew. Which is why stop sleeping with my husband was the first thing I said to you.”
“What’s your second?” My phone vibrated in my hand.
“Tell me where he is.”
I glanced down at the screen, “gladly. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. He just texted me. Apparently, my roommate let him in and he’s waiting even though he knows I usually don’t get off until two hours from now.”
“Well, I say we pay him an early visit. Shall we?”
“Yes. Let’s.” I said, prepared to do battle. “You mind driving me to my car?”
Drive me she did. Just like a bat out of hell. We barely talked, the ride was filled with Barney sung lullabies. Titi controlled what was played in the car or else nothing would be heard over her screams.
“I’m about thirty minutes away and we’re ahead of traffic.”
“Ok, I’ll follow you,” She said.
Chapter 2
I wasn’t sure that bringing her kids to such an ordeal was the right thing to do. But Cocoa insisted. They’re her kids so I let them follow me into the elevator, Titi in a stroller, Junior walking and playing his handheld with Candy on Cocoa’s hip. Three floors up and into my apartment as soundless ninjas we looked around. He was not either in the living room or my kitchen. I would have known immediately as the floor design was open. Everything connected to each other. The living room flowed into the kitchen that flowed to the hall bathroom and then to the right, two doors. One being my room and the other being Casey’s room. Setting my purse on the glass table, I listened hard. It’s amazing how the senses perk up when preparing for battle.
I heard moaning. Now again, here you would think the dots would connect themselves, but they didn’t. I thought, oh, Casey is entertaining a guest. So clearly Tyrone left. But where would he have gone? Not Cocoa, though, because sister girl walked with purpose, striding with confidence to Casey’s door and pushed it open. The shock put me on two-second delay but when my brain caught up to my legs to carry me to the room, leaving her kids alone in the living room, I was again, having a car accident in my head. There was Casey, naked in a headlock between Cocoa’s elbows and Tyrone hurriedly dressing, not helping her may I add, screaming, “It’s not what it looks like.” Do you see my confusion? He was not even surprised to see Cocoa there. He wasn’t helping Casey, who was naked and turning red in the face or addressing me, silly me, standing there dumbfounded by the gall of this idiot.
My mother said you catch the most flies with honey, so I calmed myself to address Cocoa. “You know he ain’t worth going to jail over and trust me that one will sue. Let her go.” She did. Casey fell like a sack of potatoes into an ugly lump of bones and nakedness I could have gone without seeing. Since I was in the doorway, Tyrone, fully clothed, addressed me. “What are you doing home?” By his tone, you’d have thought, I did something wrong.
“I live here.” I huffed.
“You weren’t supposed to be here for another two hours,” He said. Again, sounding too close to an accusing tone. By now, Cocoa had come to stand next to me. This was not going to be a happy ending for Tyrone.
“Again, I live here. That means I can come home whenever I want.” I guess he was done talking to me.
“Baby, this is not what it looks like,” He said to Cocoa.
“Which one?” She asked. Turning to me, “he calls you baby too, right?”
I nodded.
“I can explain,” He said, dodging her question.
Now here’s where it gets tricky but I will try to explain so you can feel what I felt standing there. Cocoa with the speed of Superman, dashed across the room and grabbed Tyrone in a choke hold while choking out her question again. “I said, which one?” She was adept at repeating herself, but with her hand around his neck, I wasn’t sure how he would answer. But she didn’t really want one as her other hand took to smacking him repeatedly upside the head. I was sure in this way, he was losing brain cells left and right. In between each swat she gritted out, “I. Am. So. Tired. Of. You. You. Lying. Trifling. No. Good. For. Nothing. Dog. Piece. Of. Shit. Got. Me. Out. Here. Looking. Crazy. Not. No. More. I’m. Leaving. You. And. You. Bet. Not. Come. Find. Me. Or. I’m. Gon. Send. Cousin. Pookie. To. Shoot. Your. Ass.” Then she dropped him. I was thinking at that point, she was one strong woman and maybe if Cousin Pookie did shoot him, I’d be an accessory to murder. I hoped, for my sake, that Tyrone had heard her clearly. It was obvious to me she meant business.
Done and tired, she walked past me to get her kids, “Thanks, girl,” she said over her shoulder. “That was a long time coming. Sorry, you had to find out that way.”
What could I really say? In truth, she’d done me a favor. “Thank you. You just let me know I was dating a scumbag and rooming with a hoe.”
She cackled. “Two birds, one stone.”
I nodded, solemn and realizing I would have to move. “So what are you going to do now?” I asked her as she repositioned Candy on her hip.
“Pack up the house, sell all his shit and get the hell out of dodge,” She said strolling towards the door.
“You weren’t serious about the whole cousin Pookie thing, were you?” I asked, opening it for her.
“Dead,” She said walking away. “Have a nice life Veronica. You seem like you deserve one.”
Heaven help me, Tyrone bet not see that woman again. I decided that it was time I disposed of the trash. Tyrone was still semi-unconscious in Casey’s bedroom. With a pitcher full of ice water, I deposited it on his head. He seemed to regain consciousness and on the verge of yelling when I pulled my second gift retrieved from the kitchen: a large butcher knife. “If you aren’t out of my house in thirty seconds, I will cut off your dick.” He didn’t need further encouragement as he was out of Casey’s room and out the door so fast, it slammed from the momentum.
Casey, pitiful as she looked wrapped in a sheet got no pity from me. She couldn’t meet my eyes. I decided to play it sweet again, putting the knife in the pitcher. “Didn’t know you were into black guys.” She shrugged in reply. “Well, I hope you don’t judge them all by this little scenario. Most of them are bigger and more mature.” She smiled, thinking she was in the clear. Assumptions only make an ass out of you and me. “I’ll be out by the end of the week and you can figure out for yourself how to make rent and finish the lease. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be back late.” With that, I left her room, shut the door behind me, grabbed my purse and deposited myself into the nearest bar.
Chapter 3
The bar was probably a mistake but it led me to a hot stranger who fucked me in a clean stall. Today was a rough day so no judging. I don’t remember his name. Let’s be real, after 5 Cosmos’ that were preceded by one double shot of Hennessey, can you blame me? I am not at fault here. He is. Who do
you think bought the Cosmos?
I took that double-shot back with vigor and it slammed it on the bar. “Rough night?” A voice to my left asked. I couldn’t see in my peripheral view yet, the alcohol was still welling tears in my eyes. In an unattractive and hoarse voice, I said, “You could say that.”
“Tell me about it.”
Now I’m not sure why I did this. I did not know this man from Adam and I should have been planning my escape but what was the harm in talking to a stranger? I saw none. So I told him my story. I told him the struggle of coming to believe I wasn’t big boned, just a big girl and accepting that. I told him how I had severe trust issues from a mother who thought bulimia was a legit dieting strategy and a spineless father incapable of protecting anyone other than himself from my mother’s words. I told him of the fool named Tyrone and how hurt I was that I could not find a good man. By the fifth Cosmo, I was blubbering about running away and needed to find a perfect place. The stranger before sliding a condom onto his dick and pushing my thong aside mentioned New York. That’s pretty much all I remember of that, which is sad because I think he was pretty good. Well, pretty good for up against a bathroom door, in a bar. I do remember getting one off and that’s worth mentioning. Men like that tend to be of the selfish sort. He was kind enough to get me into a cab too.
On a normal night of drowning my sorrows, I would have quieted my entry, tip-toed to my room and curled into a ball without changing my clothes. Tonight was not that kind of night. First of all, I fell through the door. Yup. The door escaped my grasped and thundered into the wall. I think the knob may have left a hole. I would have checked, but that was Casey’s problem, not mine. Shuffling to bed, my keys clanked against the glass table in the living room. Then I entered, drunk enough to know that light should be avoided and not sober enough to avoid the person sniffing on my bed.
“Whafu?” I murmured.
I was lucky, having lamps that clicked on versus twisted on. Casey was sitting in the center of my bed, dabbing her mascara covered eyes. I was unlucky that I could not form words.
“I’m so sorry.” She whimpered, between sniffles.
“Get out.” Good job! Those words were clear.
“You were my best friend V. I never meant to hurt you. I promise it meant nothing. It was a one-time thing. You know it was a one-time thing. I can’t believe I did it either. It won’t happen again. Please don’t leave me. Don’t go.”
I’m not sure who she was trying to convince, herself or me but I wasn’t buying whatever she was selling. I had made up my mind. New York was calling.
“I need water.”
She moved quicker than my drunken eyes could process. She came back with water and Advil. Bless her whore hands.
“Thank you,” I said, sitting up, weighing the bed corner down with our combined weights. “Now get out.”
Her gasp of surprise was entertaining. She definitely had a career in acting if her job as a photographer didn’t work out.
“But, but, but” she protested. To my tired and drunk ears, it sounded like obstacles to sleep.
“If you say it one more time you’re going to find my foot there. Get. Out.”
The door being shut was my cue to sleep and my brain didn’t hesitate. I was asleep before my head reached the pillow. I had strange dreams that I mostly can’t remember, except for the haunting brown eyes of the stranger I slept with. His eyes were as pained as mine. Maybe that’s why we were destined to sleep together. Maybe his spirit saw a kindred spirit.
Chapter 4
The morning sun shined down on bad decisions and disheveled hair. I should have closed the curtains last night and I should have remembered to put on my scarf. Now a bird’s nest sat atop my head. It would take the shower and deep conditioning to restore my beautiful curls. Still, I felt less burdened. I felt like smiling, though, with a pounding headache I could not. With my mind made up, I took out the two suitcases I owned. Would you believe I had less than I thought? With a few garbage bags to house all the shoe boxes I had, shoes were kept longer and better maintained when housed in their original boxes. Most of the outfits fit into my suitcase with a few exceptions laid across the back seat of my truck. I’m a big girl, needed a bigger car. I know it doesn’t quite fit in with the Prius and Toyota drivers, but neither does a big black girl. Hopefully, New York would be more welcoming. I heard it said, if you can make it there, you can make it anywhere. Let’s hope that was true.
It was not as hard as one would think to pack up and leave. I just made up my mind. I had nothing tying me to San Francisco. So, I turned in my “I quit” letter. Bye, bye promotion. I drove across country and asked Siri where the nearest for rent apartments were in the city. God bless Siri. After the fifth one, I found what I thought was a reasonable place to stay. I figured, after being stuck in a sea of yellow cabs that selling my car would be more of a benefit than having it. Signing the lease, was a cake walk. Then it was me, silence and stacks of my things in a barren one bedroom apartment. There was no view, but what would I have seen? Skyscrapers? I didn’t too much care for the side view of the buildings. There wasn’t much space but I didn’t need much and most importantly, there was no second room to rent out. That was as close to serenity as I could get.
Step one, move across the country. Check. Step two, find a place to live. Check. Step three, find a job. Also surprisingly easy, although not exactly a job I was jumping for joy about. I would be a transcriptionist. What does that mean? It means I type everything I hear or see. I was working for a medical firm who got the technology notice late this century. So I recorded all of their patient records, notes and such into this huge database. For a moment, I thought this job wouldn’t last long until I visited to finish my hire paperwork. At the basic rate, I would be here for years. They had actual sheds of files. I was happy to have a job above minimum wage, even if the job might bore me to tears. Step four proved a little more difficult. Selling Lassie required me to drive out to someone and then get a cab back. Yes, my car’s name is Lassie. You got a problem?
I had one co-worker, Linda, she sat at a desk adjacent to me. We worked back to back and had brief contact when she passed over a completed patient chart to be updated in the system. Linda was a chain smoker that took every break we were allowed. That was once at 10 am, lunch, 2 or 3 pm and then we were off at 5. She talked like a chain smoker as well. Something akin to the sound nails, screws, and soda cans would make in a garbage disposal. Between all the noises were words for you to try to piece together into English. She was blessed to be a woman of few words in her late years. Although I could not confirm her age, I know she looked a day over sixty-nine. I say sixty-nine for two reasons. One, I do think she’d curse me if I whispered she might be seventy and two, Linda made it clear she was still a vibrant thing and frequented online dating sites. I put a nip in the bud of those conversations going on too long after she told me her latest date wanted to do her in the butt and inquired what number of dates was good enough to make him wait. My stomach wanted to lose its lunch but my brain knew no matter what, I’d never unsee what she caused me to imagine.
“You know what your problem is?” she said in between an unlit cigarette in her mouth. “You too uptight. How long you been in this city?” I was sure she wasn’t biting the cigarette but how it stayed in her mouth was magic. It bobbed up and down, dangerously teetering between her blackened lips but never falling. “You need to go out some. Loosen up. This city has lots to offer. Let me tell you, this site called Super Natural Dating, has been giving me tens back to back.”
I cringed, knowing that something bad was coming but too weak to stop it.
“Seriously. I forgot how I found it but you gotta try it. Men of all ages on there and they are fine.” She paused, holding the cigarette to lick her lips and whip her chair around to hand me a manila folder. “I went on a date with a tall Italian and he knew how to speak in foreign languages. Girl, his tongue was amazing.”
Eww. There it was. The bom
b of yucky that I knew had more detonating to do.
“His name was Antonio. After him was George. George was no looker but he could scratch every itch you could possibly have. He moved like a snake. Slithering up and down and putting me in positions I forgot about with old age. Last week, I was out with Ken. He was no Barbie doll. Let me tell you. He had a face like mine and an ass like Jehovah.” Finishing her spiel she eyed me over her shoulder, making the cigarettes bob to unheard music. “Try the site. I promise you. It’s for any woman, every woman, and all women.”
I was almost positive I did not want to be in a place where Linda frequented. In fact, I was so against that when I went home, bored per usual and scrolling on Facebook, I realized I had nothing to lose. So I googled it. The website was number one, the few pages on the site were search results two through four and the fifth result was a site comparing other websites. I scrolled a bit to see if there were any negative bits or one sign to abort this mission. Finding none, I clicked the link.
The website was very classy. It was reminiscent of another time. The writing was script and elegant, in bold red, with black borders. Welcome to Super Natural Dating. New here? Make an account or sign in. I hated websites like this. You couldn’t see a thing unless you made an account.
I huffed in irritation but clicked new account.
Name: Veronica Lewis
Email: [email protected]
I saw no need to use my business account.
Age: 27
Astrological Sign: Sagittarius
Favorite Color: Sunshine yellow
Favorite Book: The Martian – Andy Weir
Perfect date: Champagne, fireplace, and casual talking
Perfect day: Warm enough to sit on the back porch watching the stars without a jacket
Favorite flower: lily
Define your perfect man: Non-cheating
I decided I started off wrong and tried again.
