The Scourge

by R. Tilden Smith

  “Let’s not give old lady Watson any more things to gossip about.”

  At the mention of her neighbor’s name, Moji broke their embrace and Crystal saw a look of contempt wash across Moji’s face. “That woman makes me want to forget all my home training and just slap her upside her blue-haired head,” Moji said, loud enough to be heard if Mrs. Watson should have her ear pressed against her door, as Moji suspected she did.

  “Girl, what’s gotten into you!” Crystal said, “What did the lonely old bat ever do to you, other than get up all in your business?”

  Moji grabbed Crystal’s arm and pulled her into the apartment, slamming the door loudly behind them.

  “All that woman does is try to find ways to get on my last nerve!” Moji said. “You know what that heifer has done now? She's petitioned the condo board to prohibit me from keeping Tyson in my apartment. She claims that pit bulls are a known menace and a danger to the children and other pets living in the building. Can you believe that bullshit?”

  “Damn! She really doesn’t like you! What are you going to do?”

  “Oh Crystal, I don’t know,” Moji said, exasperated. There’s a board meeting about it that’s scheduled to happen in a couple of weeks. I’m sure I’ll think of something by then.” She ushered Crystal into the breakfast area adjacent to the kitchen and gestured for her to sit down opposite her at the small dining table. “Since moving here I‘ve tried everything I could think of to win her friendship. I’ve made a point to speak to her and say something nice whenever I see her. I’ve offered to run errands for her. I even baked some cookies and took them over there so that we could, you know, maybe have a nice conversation and get to know one another better. You know what she said to me when she opened her door and saw the plate of cookies?”

  “No, what she’d say?”

  “She said, No thank you dear, I don’t eat other people’s cooking, and slammed the door in my face.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah, and one time she called 911 because she saw Darryl in the hallway and thought he was some sort of criminal.”

  “Well, she’s just a sad old woman who grew up in a different era. She probably thought moving to this building would protect her from all the scary minorities popping up all over the place. And then your nappy ass showed up next door with a dog named Mike Tyson.”

  “I’ve told you a thousand times, Tyson is not named after Mike Tyson! He’s named after Tyson Beckford because he’s black, muscular, handsome, and loyal.”

  “And I call him Mike Tyson because he’s black, muscular, crazy, and bites people.”

  “Tyson has never bitten anyone! You know that!”

  “What about DeAndre?”

  “Tyson didn’t bite DeAndre, he just tried to bite him. Anyway, DeAndre didn’t tell me he was into all that dog fighting stuff. How was I supposed to know that Tyson would sense it, smell it, or whatever, and attack him. God knows what cruel things he was doing to animals. My baby was just trying to protect me.”

  “DeAndre said the dog tried to snap his nuts off. If he hadn’t jumped on top of this very table,” Crystal said, running her hands over the table’s highly varnished surface, “he probably would’ve ended up a frigging eunuch.” Crystal laughed at the thought of DeAndre on top of the table bawling like a little girl.

  Moji offered Crystal a weak smile, “It wasn’t funny at the time Crystal! DeAndre could have been seriously hurt. I had a hard time getting Tyson to calm down so I could lock him in the bathroom. Anyway, DeAndre was lucky. Had I known about that dog fighting crap beforehand, I might have let Tyson finish the job.”

  “Girl, remind me never to get on your bad side.”

  “You ain’t got nothing to worry about. My best friend could never get on my bad side.”

  They both laughed and began to unpack the chicken dinner. The noise, the constant mention of his name, and the smell of the chicken finally compelled Tyson to leave the comfortable confines of the bathroom. On seeing the familiar face and inhaling a lungful of the powerfully enticing smell of fried chicken, Tyson galloped over to the table where Moji and Crystal were seated and positioned himself between their two chairs, his tail wagging furiously in anticipation of affection and food.

  “Speak of the devil,” Crystal said.

  “How’s my baby!” Moji said, bending over to cup Tyson’s head in her hands. He lovingly licked her face while she made loud kissing sounds.

  “Ugh!” Crystal said, shivering in disgust, “I don’t know why you always let the dog lick you in the face! That’s nasty! The dog probably just got finished licking his ass!”

  “Oh be quiet Crystal! He’s not licking me on the mouth. There’s no harm in letting Tyson kiss me on my cheeks and chin.”

  “Like I said, that’s N-A-S-T-Y nasty!”

  “I remember when we were little. You used to pick up those stray dogs that lived in the alley next to my house and hug them and kiss them like they was your own.”

  “I was young and stupid then Moji. I have better sense now,” she said with a serious edge to her voice that made Moji frown. “Besides, you treat that dog better than you treat any man you’ve ever dated. As a matter of fact, you act as if that dog is your man!”

  Moji freed Tyson from her love grip and sat up at the table. “Crystal, I don’t treat Tyson as some sort of boyfriend. I know full well that he’s just a dog.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Yes really,” Moji said, pouting.

  “So, let’s see. We’ve already determined that you let the dog lick you wherever. Would you let a man lick your face?”

  “Don’t be silly Crystal. Humans don’t show affection like that. At least not any that I know. But if I met a guy with a weird face-licking fetish, I might let him do it, if I knew him as well as I know Tyson.”

  “Tyson’s a dog, sweetheart. You ain’t never gonna know him as well as you can know a man.”

  “That’s not true! Tyson and I are very close. He knows me almost as well as you do.”

  “Really?” Crystal said, “What else? Ok, let’s see, you spend a ton of money on this dog, am I right? You buy him clothes, take him to the spa, and only feed him organic dog food, correct?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Uh uh honey, I don’t want to hear it. Have you ever done those things for any man you have ever known?”

  “Uh, no. But that’s not a fair comparison! Tyson can’t do those things for himself!”

  “Yes I know honey because he’s a dog. Now, you tell Tyson all your deepest, darkest secrets, right?”

  “Yes, but he’s a good listener and he doesn’t judge me.”

  “Hmm, okey, dokey then. Does the dog get to see you naked?”

  “Come on Crystal, that’s not fair! He’s a dog! He doesn’t care what I look like naked.”

  “Uh huh. Last question. Does the dog get to sleep in the bed with you?”

  “Only if it’s thunder and lightning. He gets scared.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I rest my case. Tyson the dog is Moji’s true love. All others are a distant second.”

  Moji shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She picked up a piece of chicken and began to peel pieces from it, eating one and giving the next to Tyson, who sat obediently to her left.

  “I see what you’re trying to say Crystal, I really do. But the love I have for Tyson is different than the love I have, or had, for the men in my life.”

  “Ok, this is the part that I don’t understand. Why don’t you enlighten a sister.” Crystal grabbed a chicken breast out of the container and spun it slowly between both hands, searching for a place where she could bite more meat than batter.

  “You should understand what I’m about to say because you’re married with two kids.” Moji finished the first piece of chicken then grabbed another. “The love I have for Tyson is a mother’s love, like the unconditional love a mother has for her child. I behave the way you describe with Tyson out of that kind of love, just lik
e I am sure you do with your kids. If I were to ask you the same questions you asked me but applied to your children, wouldn’t you give the same answers I did?”

  Crystal took a large bite of the chicken breast and chewed loudly while pondering Moji’s question. “Hell no,” she answered, pausing between chews, “I love my babies but they ain’t never seen me naked, slept in my bed, or worn better clothes than me. They kids, damn it! They should be happy I feed them and let them sleep in my house.”

  “Girl, you crazy,” Moji said, waving her chicken leg for emphasis, “you know you telling a lie. From the moment your babies popped out of your womb you loved them instantaneously and unconditionally because they were helpless and couldn’t fend for themselves. That’s a mother’s or parent’s love. On the other hand, you fell in love with your husband. The very term ‘falling in love’ implies something that happens over time and has some prerequisites.”

  “Yeah,” Crystal said, talking between small rapid bites of chicken, “I had some conditions when I met Sam. Was he single? Was he fine? Did he smell good? Did he have a job? Did he want children? Yes to all of the above? Then, bam! I threw a net over him because he was the one.”

  Moji smiled. “I know you must have had more requirements than that. What about him being equally yoked, being baby momma-less, willing to commit to marriage, or not having a rap-sheet? None of those were on your list?”

  “Yeah, all that stuff was on the list at first, but my search kept coming up empty so I had to make some adjustments. If Sam hadn’t come along when he did, I was about to take ‘he has to be black’ off the list too. Let me tell you something girl, the good man market is tight so you can’t afford to be too picky. You sit around waiting for Mr. Perfect, you might find yourself sitting by yourself. Think about Darryl. He ain’t perfect, but doesn’t he deserve some of the same love and attention you lavish on Tyson? A man likes it when a woman pays him some attention.”

  “So what you’re saying is that I should lower my standards and just accept whatever man comes my way?”

  “No, I’m not saying that! All I’m saying is that we keep having this conversation over and over again and the only constant is your picky butt.”

  “I am not being picky! I’m just being careful. I plan on getting married just once in my lifetime so he needs to be the right guy.”

  “Moji,” Crystal said, with a discernible tone of annoyance in her voice, “You have dated at least ten ‘right guys’ since I moved to Houston! You have rejected all of them based on some trivial, and sometimes outright stupid reasons.”

  “None of those guys were Mr. Right. I had legitimate reasons for ending all those relationships.”

  “Legitimate reasons? Shit girl, you cray-cray! Let’s see, you broke up with Trevor because you thought he was immature. James lost out because he was Muslim and not willing to convert to Christianity. And poor Ervin got kicked to the curb because he had a receding hairline. Should I go on?”

  “I admit that the receding hairline thing was a little petty but at the time I thought that was an indication of bad genes and I didn’t want to take the chance that our future children might be anything less than perfectly healthy.”

  “Really? You concluded that you and Ervin’s potential children might be born with spina bifida because homeboy’s hairline started a few inches further back on his head?”

  “No! I wasn’t thinking anything as terrible as that but, you know, I was thinking he just wasn’t a good candidate.”

  “Uh huh. And what about Isaiah. What was wrong with him?”

  “He was too lustful. All he thought and talked about was sex.”

  “And Burt?”

  “Two misdemeanors and a felony.”

  “Kevin?”

  “No job and not looking for one.”

  “Henry?”

  “Couldn’t carry a conversation.”

  “Alex?”

  “No ambition.”

  “Donald?”

  “He had mommy issues.”

  “So that leaves us, let’s see,” Crystal closed her hands into fists and then began to count, extending one finger at a time, “that’s one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine perfectly acceptable brothers that you’ve run off for no good reason. Who am I forgetting? Oh yeah, I forgot about DeAndre. That makes ten. But maybe we should give Tyson credit for running off DeAndre. After all, he did try to eat his genitals.” She gave Tyson a big piece of chicken then patted him on the head. Tyson swallowed the meat whole, licked his lips, and stared at her longingly, waiting for more.

  “I have faith Crystal. I’m willing to wait for the right man to share the rest of my life with.”

  “Well, if you wait too much longer you won’t have much life left to share.”

  “Crystal, that’s a horrible thing to say!”

  “I’m sorry. But you know what I mean. You’re thirty-five years old. You ain’t getting any younger and the pool of available men is not getting any bigger. And if you want to have kids...” Crystal’s voice trailed off, leaving unspoken Moji’s fear of becoming too old to conceive.

  “I still have time for children,” Moji said with confidence, “look at Halle Berry. She had her first child when she was forty-one years old and another one at forty-seven.”

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way because you know I love you like a sister, but you ain’t no Halle Berry. She had the resources to have children at that late age. And look at what she had to do to get a man. Homegirl practically had to stick a for rent sign in her vagina to get pregnant. I don’t think you want to go that route.”

  “I know,” Moji said, her voice suddenly choked with emotion, “but I am so confused. I’m a strong, independent woman. I’m smart, I have a good education, I’m healthy, I have a great career, and people say I have a great personality.”

  Crystal put Moji’s hand in hers. “Honey, you’re all that and more. I tell my baby Shannon all the time, look up to your Auntie Moji because she’s the kind of woman I want you to grow up to be.”

  “Then why can’t I find a man to love me for who I am? I try to be open-minded, you know? I want to accept people for who they are and not judge them based on some high moral standard. But it seems that the more accepting I am of them, the more critical they are of me, and the more they want me to compromise who I am for their sake. I’m not willing to do that Crystal, I’m just not!” Moji lay her head down on the table and began to sob.

  “Moji honey,” she said, speaking softly into Moji’s ear while running her hand through the twists in Moji’s hair. “Everything is going to be alright. You hold on to your high standards. When the time is right God will present you with a man that fits your criteria like a key fits a lock. You just have to be patient and not try to get ahead of God’s plan.”

  “How long do I have to wait?” Moji said, her words barely intelligible through shortened sobs. “God has to know that I don’t have too much time left before I’m too old to start a family.”

  “None of us can know God’s plan for our lives. We just have to trust that He knows what’s best for us.” Crystal felt a sudden pang of guilt for giving Moji advice that she didn’t believe herself, but she knew it would make her friend feel better.

  “Well, I guess you’re right,” Moji said, dabbing the tears from her face with the sleeve of her bathrobe, “I am wonderfully made by God and I have to have faith that He will bring someone into my life that can see that.”

  “That’s my girl. You’ll see, everything will work out for the best.”

  “I hope so.”

  “No Moji, a woman of faith knows it will work out for the best.”

  “You’re right again,” Moji said,” I know it will work out.”

  “You bet your ass it will,” Crystal said. She stood up and gathered the remaining biscuits and the container of mashed potatoes and placed them in the microwave. She pressed the keys for a quick reheat and pressed start. “Now tell me what happened today wi
th Darryl. I thought you guys had a pretty solid relationship.”

  “I thought so too,” Moji said, “but today he made it painfully obvious that our relationship was not what I thought it was.”

  The microwave beeped. Crystal removed the biscuits and mashed potatoes and arranged them on the table equidistant between herself and Moji. She retrieved two spoons from the utensil drawer. She gave one to Moji and used the other to stir the steaming mashed potatoes. “So basically, he showed his ass,” she said, plopping down in the chair and shoveling a heaping tablespoon of mashed potatoes into her mouth.

  “Basically.”

  “Well, run it down for me so I can decide whether or not to have him killed for messing with my best friend.”

  Moji stared at Crystal in silence for several seconds. Sometimes she says things with such seriousness that I can’t tell whether she’s joking or not. Moji let Crystal’s comment pass, chalking it up to her friend’s weird and often morbid sense of humor. Bracing herself for the emotions she knew would follow, Moji swallowed a large helping of mashed potatoes, took a deep breath, and allowed the memories to tumble from her brain to her lips.

  3

  Moji tapped her phone’s display. Its screen responded by brightening to a soft lavender then displaying the time in big white numbers. 9:45am, she thought, Darryl will be here in fifteen minutes.

  She was ready to go. As a matter of fact, she’d been ready to go for over an hour. She hadn’t really slept that well the night before so instead of just lying in the bed, she got up early, fed Tyson, did thirty minutes of cardio, ate breakfast, showered, and tried on at least seven different outfits before settling on the one she now wore. For at least the tenth time, and she promised herself it would be the last, Moji closed her bedroom door and stood in front of the full length mirror mounted on its back. Tyson lie on the bed, in a sphinx-like pose, watching with muted interest. Moji stared at her reflected image and spun slowly, examining every fold, crease, and bulge for any sign of potential embarrassment. She wore an ochre knee length tunic over a black and white one piece bathing suit and a pair of leather wedge sandals that showed off her carefully pedicured toes. Her favorite yellow crochet beach bag graced her shoulder and her hair was arrayed elegantly on her head in the chunky twist out style she loved so much.