Sunday Brunch

by Norma L. Jarrett

  “Thanks. You always pump me up, just like back at Westwood.”

  “Girl, you know I got your back. I'll be praying for you.”

  “Good night. Love ya, girl.”

  “Back atcha.”

  I was lucky to have Capri in my life. I smiled as I thought back to the first day of class at law school and how insecure and scared I was. At Westwood, they practice the Socratic teaching method. As far as I'm concerned, “Socratic” is another word for “teach yourself the law” or “make a fool of yourself.” When a professor used this method, I often ended up more confused after class than before.

  First, the professor would ask a student to recite information about the assigned reading. Just when you think you're finished, he'd fire questions at you. He'd ask what you thought about the case, the decision, or the opinion of the judges.

  Who really cares? Just let me sit down and dwell on my humiliation, I'd think. The first time a professor called on me was during my second week at Westwood.

  “Ms. Parker,” Professor Calloway, my contracts' professor, called out. I could have sworn I heard an echo. I froze in my seat.

  “Yes,” I said, unsuccessfully trying to keep my voice from cracking.

  “Will you please enlighten us about this wonderful case regarding ‘Battle of the Forms?’”

  “The battle of what?” I whispered under my breath. My legs were shaking.

  “Uh, umm … well, Professor Calloway, it seems as though I read the wrong case,” I said, bracing myself. The whole class started mumbling. I felt like someone had pulled out a King Kong-sized magnifying glass and the focus was on me. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.

  “Well, Ms. Parker, it seems you have come here to play. How in the world do you expect to be a lawyer if you can't even follow the simplest of directions? You have wasted your classmates' time. Perhaps you should reevaluate your decision to come to law school …”

  Just who does he think he is? I'm paying all this money for this man to degrade me? What a jerk.

  I knew my thoughts were written on my face.

  “At any rate, thank you, Ms. Parker, for your intellectual contribution to this class. Would you like to select co-counsel to assist you?” he said smugly.

  It was too early in the semester for anyone to have my back, and volunteering another person to recite for you was something you'd have to think twice about putting even your worst enemy through.

  “I'll do it,” offered a strong but nonchalant voice from the back of the room.

  “Well, I'm glad to see someone is interested in being a lawyer Ms., Ms. …” he looked down at his roster.

  “Sterling, Capricia,” she said with confidence. “However, I prefer to be called Capri.”

  “Oh really? Well please proceed, Ms. Sterling,” he said.

  Capri blew us all away with her knowledge of the case. She saved the class. From that point on, Professor Calloway constantly challenged her, trying to break her down. But he usually ended up looking stupid, which frustrated him even more. For Capri, it was a game, her very own little power trip.

  He stayed on me, too, because he thought I was weak. But, by the end of the semester, he was convinced I could handle myself. I was always prepared.

  As I tried to doze off, I laughed at the memories. So many people are on one big power trip. Everybody wants respect. On the other hand, respect is something most don't want to give up to others easily.

  I used to think like much of society, that if you didn't have good looks, super-high intelligence, or heavy connections, you couldn't win at the game. But little by little, I was realizing that when you have God, you have a secret weapon. Then again, even with God, it still doesn't hurt to watch your own back from time to time.

  I decided to pray before I fell asleep.

  Lord, thank You for another day. I love You. Thank You for Capri's guidance. Help me to be strong. Deliver me from anything that's not of You. I pray for Jermane to be happier. I pray for Jewel to get a grip. (You know what I mean.) I pray to get good cases. Help me to be a competent and ethical lawyer. Help me to be debt free. Help me deal with Reggie. Bless my family and friends, and forgive me if I have done anything wrong in Your sight. Speaking of which, Lord, is it wrong to go to a strip club? Lord, please keep me, for I'm unable to keep myself. Amen.

  he phone's ringing startled me awake. Groggy, I let it ring a few more times. The answering machine came on.

  “Baby girl, pick up. This is Reggie.”

  Against my better judgment, I rolled over and picked up. “Hell-o,” I said in a raspy voice.

  “Hey sweetie, what are you doing?” he said, obviously not realizing that everyone didn't work his same shift. It was one a.m.

  “Why are you calling me?” I said, looking at the clock.

  “I know it's late, but you know I usually have to stay over and do some extra paperwork. I just wanted to give you a shout. I thought that maybe we could talk about this taking space thing.”

  “Whatever, Reggie. Yes, I still need space. And I have to be in court all day tomorrow. I need as much sleep as possible. So I don't need to stay on the phone being silly with you.”

  “Come on, baby girl, I've heard that before. Can I come over, please?”

  I knew he was in the mood.

  “Reggie, please be understanding. Months ago, this wasn't an issue,” I said, now more awake. “I want us to be about more than just hooking up.”

  “If that's the way you're going to be, fine,” he said in a spoiled, childlike tone.

  “I'll call you when I'm ready,” I said, and hung up.

  As I rolled over, the guilt I felt about my sexual relationship with Reggie came tumbling back. There was an uneasiness in my spirit and heart. I remembered Pastor Graves's “Al Green” sermon, so I slipped the cassette into my stereo. The words of “Love and Happiness” played in my ear as I faded off to sleep.

  CHAPTER THREE

  s I rode up in the elevator, I checked my makeup in the mirrored walls. I was alone, so I touched up my lipstick, which had lost its shine from my morning cup of coffee. I paused for a minute and prayed.

  Lord, I pray that You anoint this day, give me favor with Judge Albright and give me wisdom. Please don't have me lookin' stupid. You said You will not make Your people ashamed. And please forgive me for such a short prayer, but it's gonna have to do since I woke up too late to have a more intense talk with You. Amen.

  I got off the elevator, hoping Terrance wouldn't be the first person I saw. I wasn't in the mood for his stop-playing-hard-to-get glances.

  Terrance was an established Westwood alumnus who I temporarily shared office space with. I met him at a mixer after graduation. I knew he liked me, but I kept things strictly business. Still, he gave me some breaks. He not only allowed me to pay what I could afford for my space, but gave me access to all of the office equipment and use of his secretary. He even helped with my cases when I needed it. I appreciated his help, but I was looking forward to settling one of the big cases I'd been working on so I could truly be on my own.

  “Morning, Ms. Parker,” Terrance said with his back to me. “Ready for a big day?”

  “Oh yeah, I'm ready,” I said as I sprinted to my office.

  I closed the door behind me. Five messages already and it wasn't even 8 a.m. Two I had to return immediately. The others could wait. As I made the calls, I pulled several files and packed them into my briefcase. I downed another cup of coffee, reviewed several documents, took a few more notes, and was out the door.

  Lord, aerobics class will be a good relief tonight.

  ey, girl,” Jewel said as we spotted one another in the lobby of the gym.

  “Hey. Where's everybody else?” I said.

  “Capri got held over at work again. Jermane didn't feel like coming, and Angel's working late, too.”

  “Oh, well. I'm gonna feel bad for them when summer comes and I have those tight abs like Janet Jackson,” I said.

  “Some of
us already have it like that,” Jewel said, full of conceit.

  She was right, but I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. After we changed into our workout gear, Jewel touched up her lipstick.

  “We're only going to work out. We'll be getting sweaty and funky, so you don't need makeup,” I said.

  “You never know,” she chided as we walked toward the aerobics room.

  We came in and found our usual spot on the floor. “I'm beat. I had to go to court, but I won my motion,” I said as I inspected my worn-out tennis shoes.

  “Whose court were you in?”

  “Judge Albright.”

  “Albright, Albright … bad toupee, right?”

  “That's the one!”

  We both laughed, then relaxed for a few more minutes, waiting for Darnell the aerobics instructor. Darnell had the nicest butt and the prettiest, smoothest legs, particularly for a man. His gams were kind of like Flip Wilson's in a dress when he was Geraldine.

  “All right, you tired ladies! Summer is around the corner!” Darnell yelled in a deep, booming voice as he ran into the room, bright and full of energy. He took his place up front.

  “We're going to work on the abdomen, legs, and buttocks,” he said, lightly patting each area for emphasis. “We're also going to do steps tonight.”

  Everyone sighed.

  “Remember this is Funk Aerobics, so I hope y'all are ready to get a little funky.”

  Darnell stepped up on the platform and turned his back. His behind looked like two large, perfectly round grapefruits stuck together in his yellow tights.

  Darnell owns the fitness studio. Mostly women come here. Some come to get a good workout, while others come to get private training lessons from Darnell or one of the other male trainers.

  “Pump it up!” Darnell said as he started stepping high.

  The horns and lyrics from Beyonce's “Crazy in Love” blared out of the huge speakers, putting me in a trance. Before you knew it, I got into it.

  We watched as Darnell glided across the stage. Then he started to do the movements from her video. This was out of our league, so we all gradually stopped as he continued to perform.

  “Work it, Beyonce!” he yelled as he watched himself in the big studio mirror. Then he turned around and saw everyone had stopped following him.

  “Uh, sorry, ladies, I got caught up in the moment. Let's go, no excuses. Step, step, pump it up, let's go …” He clapped his hands for us to start again.

  Song after song, step after step, my visions of my perfect bikini body became more clear. That is until I tripped over my step. I tried to retain my composure even though Jewel was looking my way and snickering. I missed the other girls.

  We used to work out often together since it was a great way to destress after classes. But now everyone had different priorities, and step aerobics wasn't high on the list.

  Later on, as I pulled into my driveway, still a little moist with sweat, I thought about Reggie. It was time to let him go. I was tired of dealing with our issues, and, most of all, I was tired of him constantly putting off church. I didn't want to settle, and spirituality was on the top of my list in terms of what I was looking for in a man.

  It was important for me to date a brother with a spiritual foundation because if the devil can't work on you, he'll work on those around you. I'd tried to carry the spiritual burden of a relationship by myself before, and it wore me out. I needed a man who was strong enough to submit to God and pray, and it had become painfully obvious that Reggie wasn't ready for that type of responsibility. It was time to issue him his papers.

  I checked my mail-bill, bill, magazine. As I walked in the door, I saw that my answering machine light was blinking. I did a few dishes and picked up a few items off the floor. I undressed and took a quick shower. I had to do some reading, but before that, I needed to give myself a manicure and a pedicure. I read an article that had really stuck with me about taking better care of yourself as you get older. Next year, I'm going to be close to, well, I can't even say it. I never thought turning that age was going to be a big deal, but I am starting to get a little depressed thinking about it.

  So I quickly dismissed the thought. I threw on an oversized T-shirt that I stole from Reggie and slipped on my salmon pink slippers.

  I stretched out on the couch. I had waited all day to indulge in my favorite dessert-banana pudding. Its creamy texture was the temporary fix to every problem.

  That's right, I can do this because I'm single.

  If I were married, I'd have to feed the kids and a husband, even though cooking is not my favorite thing to do. Every holiday, my brother-in-law would say, “Girl, you need to learn how to cook. I'm gonna get your triflin' behind a cookbook!”

  Then I'd say, “I'll get a cookbook if you do something with those ashy, rusty elbows and arms of yours. Looks like you were a paratrooper who landed in the desert!”

  I smiled as I pressed the answering machine to play back my messages.

  “Hey, baby girl, this is Reggie. I'll stop through after I get off.”

  My smile faded. “Oh, brother.”

  “This is GMAC. Pleae give us a call back at 1-800-555-2000.”

  “Lexi, this is your father. Just calling to check on you.”

  My father's voice gave me comfort. Every since my mother died, we'd become very close. He'd become my best friend, and we talked about things I would have never imagined we could discuss, like relationships, movies, and politics. I think he won't rest easy until I get married.

  Since it was late, I promised myself I'd call him tomorrow from work. Then I paged Reggie to see if I could catch him. I wanted to tell him I had too much work to do to be fooling around with him tonight. Besides, we were supposed to be on a break, though I had to admit that I wasn't looking forward to completely cutting him off.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Hey,” he said, walking in with brown bags that carried the smell of sweet and sour chicken.

  He knows how to get to me—food.

  “Reggie, you know I have a lot of work to do,” I said, distracted by the smell of my favorite Chinese food.

  “Yeah, I know, but I promise I won't bother you. I'll just go and play games on the computer while you read,” he said.

  “Reggie, you are really making this hard. You can't just show up and barge in like you still have it like that. We've had a discussion and I still feel the same. I still need some space.”

  Darn, he looks good. What am I supposed to do? Shut the door in his face or kick him out? I'm just not that cold. I walked to the couch and watched him unpack the food in the kitchen.

  “Lex, don't you miss me? I miss you.”

  Please don't do this to me. I took a deep breath. “OK, I can see this is going to be difficult,” I mumbled. “Reggie, come sit on the couch.”

  “Why don't you just relax and enjoy my company?” he said.

  I was silent.

  “Okay, alright. Here I come,” he said. He sat next to me on the couch.

  “Reggie, this is not just about you. Of course, I'm going to miss you. I have missed you. But you need to respect my feelings and what I'm trying to do.” I refused to look in his eyes.

  “Well, what are you trying to do?” he said.

  “I really feel like I'm not getting through to you. I really need space. I tell you that, and you continue acting as if things are still the same. I'm growing spiritually. You're not. And there are other things. I feel like a convenience, like you take me for granted. You rarely keep your commitments when we make dates to go somewhere. How much more plain can I make it?”

  He shifted on the couch.

  “Lexi, I hear you. But, you know, honestly, maybe things would be different if you wouldn't nag so much. Maybe it's the way you say these things. It just sounds like whining and complaining,” he said as he got up.

  “Reggie, that's such a cop out!”

  I wanted to continue, but I was already out of energy. I let out a
deep sigh.

  I'm too tired to fight. These last several nights have been lonely. I really would like his company. Lord, it's so hard to make a clean break when you don't have many reserves left. I've just gotten so used to him, but I want more …

  Reggie ended up having his way. We ate and fell asleep, cuddling. In the middle of the night, I woke up because I had the weirdest dream. I looked over at Reggie's bare chest and placed my head on it.

  I felt guilty for allowing him to stay the night. I was relieved we didn't have to deal with the sex thing tonight, but that usually meant I'd have to prepare for battle in the morning. I don't know what makes men want to go there as the sun's rising. Reggie just wants to roll over, morning breath and all, and have his way.

  I got up and went to the bathroom. The shower curtain was clear and contained a translucent image of a large white swan. The fixtures were all white and the tub was in the middle of the floor. The brass handles seemed to glow. God, I love this bathroom. If I don't settle a case soon, I might have to leave this place.

  Then I remembered the dream. I was a guest at a party, but I didn't know it was a party. It looked like we were in a cafeteria at a church. I didn't know any of the people, except for a girl who was with me. It seemed as if everybody else knew what was going on but us.

  Then the girl gasped and grabbed and hugged a woman who seemed to be familiar, maybe a relative. I looked around the room and saw a woman whose back was to me. She turned around. I recognized her-it was my mother. She didn't say a word. She just acknowledged me with an almost Mona Lisa-like smile. That's when I woke up.

  God knows when I need to hear from her.

  A few hours later, the alarm clock went off, and just like clockwork, Reggie rolled over. When I pushed him away, he got an attitude.

  “Are you messin' around on me?” he said in an accusing tone.