Torn: I Dont Need You, But I Want You

by Latoya Chandler

  Earlier today, I’d picked up a few movies while shopping in Walmart, and naturally, I’m having a hard time making up my mind which movie I want to watch first. Looks like it’s the process of elimination, and the first film my hands touch will be the movie of the hour or two. The selection happens to be Precious. I have heard so much about this one but have never had the chance to see it. I am so geeked to finally be able to see this movie, however, due to my negligence, halfway through it, my stomach turns into knots and I’m crying hysterically. Why didn’t I read the synopsis for this damn movie? Had I read it, I never would have picked it, or even purchased it, for that matter.

  Through my tears and trying to take my mind off everything, I decide to try a different movie. A comedy, perhaps, will afford me the opportunity to clear my mind and not fall asleep with this mess on my brain, forcing another nightmare.

  ‘Yes, that’s what I will do.’ I think, scrambling through Darnell’s duffle bag of bootleg movies until Kevin Hart’s Laugh at My Pain catches my attention.

  “I can’t believe my husband! Darnell, the police officer, buys bootleg movies. I guess he doesn’t know it’s illegal,” I joked.

  This comedy show takes me from crying hysterically and falling into an acute bout of post-traumatic stress to laughing uncontrollably. However, as I drift off to sleep, it doesn’t prevent the nightmares from recurring.

  Maybe if I wrap myself up real tight in my blanket, he won’t come into my room when Mom goes to sleep. Why does Mommy sleep like the bears we learn about in school? If she was up, I wouldn’t be so scared and he wouldn’t come into my room. I’m getting so sleepy, but I’m scared to close my eyes. My sleep makes him come in here and do those bad things to me that I see him do to Mommy. I don’t know why Mom likes that stuff. It hurts and it makes me bleed down there.

  God, please make him stop! Why would he want to hurt me? He’s supposed to love me. Oh my God, here he comes. I’m so scared. I tried to apologize to him for walking in the room on him and Mommy, but he wouldn’t listen. He’s taking the covers off me. He’s touching my boom-boom. He’s hurting me again. “Please stop! Please stop!” I try to scream, but he’s covering my mouth. I hate him! Mom said hate is such a bad word, but so is hurting me! I’m too afraid to tell Mom he keeps doing these things to me.

  “Tae, wake up; everything is all right. I’m here!” Nae yells, shaking me awake. Once again, her perfect timing saves the day.

  “Thank you so much for being there for me, Nae. It’s like you always know when to show up,” I acknowledge.

  “Girl, you are like my sister, and I would do anything for you! You don’t have to thank me; I’m just glad I came when I did. I hate that these dreams are still haunting you. Have you considered going back to counseling? You were doing so well for a while. Do you know what caused them to return, or better yet, when did they return?”

  Embarrassed and unable to look at her, I reply, “Well, I was watching the movie Precious—”

  Before I can complete my sentence, Nae cuts me off, screaming, “Are you crazy? Why did you watch that movie? That is the reason I told you we didn’t need to see it when you recommended it when it first came out! Did you not see the previews to the movie, Tae?”

  I have to think; honestly, I don’t remember seeing the previews. I just recall hearing people say Monique was a mean and horrible mother in the movie, but she played the hell out of her role. When I inform Nae I haven’t seen the previews, she hugs and escorts me into the kitchen. I have some leftover pizza in the refrigerator so we reheat it and grab a bottle of Merlot to help us relax as she excitingly fills me in on her date with her new mystery man.

  Chapter Six ~ Darnell’s One-Night Stand

  If I met you last night, and brought you back to my place, or followed you to yours, and we had sex, that’s what we asked for from each other. It’s what I got, and what you got. I don’t know you. You don’t know me.

  Thanks for playing, and we’re done.

  — Tammara Webber, Between the Lines

  

  I have so much on my mind; I am desperately in need of this getaway with my boys. I just need time to myself—relax, drink, and have a cigar—without thinking about anything until I return. I hate leaving Latavia; she fronts, acting like she’s happy to have me out of the house, but her eyes tell a whole other story. Thank God, she has Nariah; that woman holds Latavia down almost as well as I do. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear they were fucking, but I guess they just have a bond nobody else can understand or relate to.

  It’s insane how we live in such a small world. Shit was crazy the night Latavia had her dinner party and introduced me to her girl Nariah—who just happened to be Rakeiya; at least that’s the name she gave me when we met on the online dating site. I remember that shit like it was yesterday. Latavia had planned a little get-together after we had been dating for about nine months. She thought it was time I met her peoples. She doesn’t have any family other than her close friend, who she also calls her sister, Nariah. After the unfortunate passing of her parents due to a car accident, the only family she has left is her aunt and her childhood-friend Nariah. Latavia said we couldn’t go any further until I met her.

  However, there was a stipulation: I had to bring one of my boys with me. Of course, I brought my brother-from-another-mother, my boy Bernard, but you can call him Nard. We work on the force together and have been partners since graduating the academy about ten years ago. Nard has my back and I have his. He had just ended a three-year relationship with this big-booty freak who had gotten him open then played the shit out his ass. I would have had to choke her up if it had been me; I don’t play that shit. However, I did think this little meet-and-greet would work well for him from what Latavia had told me about her girl.

  Latavia and her homegirl were still in the kitchen putting the final touches on dinner when we arrived and instructed us to make ourselves comfortable in the living room until dinner was ready.

  “Welcome to Tae and Nae’s Lobster. We will be bringing Red Lobster our way,” Tae greeted, entering into the living room.

  I chuckled at my baby girl’s little corny-ass joke—fake-ass comedian, but I love her ass. She’s got a brother all caught up, like I’m Usher in this bitch.

  Once dinner was done and ready to be served, Latavia called me and Nard into the dining area to have a seat at the table. The girls walked out, carrying shrimp scampi along with their version of those garlic-and-cheese biscuits they serve at nasty-ass Red Lobster. I was too zoned out, admiring how good Latavia looked in her damn jeans, to even notice Nariah. Yo, when she finally caught my attention, I thought I was being Punk’d. If Ashton Kutcher had brought his skinny ass out, I was fucking him up.

  “Darnell, this is my best friend and sister, Nariah. Nariah, this is my love, Darnell,” she introduced.

  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Darnell. I’ve heard so many amazing things about you,” Nariah said, staring me dead in my eyes.

  “Likewise; by the way, this is my boy, Nard,” I responded.

  I really couldn’t believe that shit! Latavia’s homegirl was playing it off cool, shaking my hand as if she was actually meeting me for the first time, and I followed suit. I couldn’t wait for Latavia to go into the bathroom or something; this was some bugged-out shit.

  Latavia, of course, had one-too-many drinks, as usual. I will have to check her on it. I don’t do that drunk shit; that’s a complete turn off for me. I hate to see a woman who’s intoxicated more than she’s sober. However, I have to say it happened right on time and made it easy for me to get a chance to holler at her girl. Nard thought this shit was the funniest thing he’d ever witnessed after I discretely filled him on what was going on. I know I didn’t find a damn thing funny.

  After escorting Latavia upstairs to her room and getting her settled in bed—butt-ass naked, of course, so she would be good and ready for daddy when I got back up there to do my duty to please that boo
ty—I walked back downstairs. To my surprise, but really not so much of a surprise, Nard had Nariah assuming the muthafuckin position—bent over the couch. That nasty-ass chick was on some other shit, and that’s my word. I knew Nard was on some rebound-stick-and-move shit, but I was a little caught off guard, considering we usually don’t eat after each other, but it was what it was.

  I knew one thing for sure: that bitch Nariah was far from the person Latavia described her to be. She was the same hoe I’d met online, that’s for sure. I hated to interrupt their formal-yet-informal introduction, but I needed to get to the bottom of that mess. There was no way in hell I was going to allow that mishap to interfere with what I had going on with Latavia, especially not at the hands of that nasty-ass hoe.

  “Excuse me,” I interjected, clearing my throat, startling Nard and Nariah when they finally realized I was standing there.

  Nard was more embarrassed than anything; that woman just smirked and said, “My bad.”

  “You’re good; I just want to know what the fuck is going on.”

  I didn’t care that they hadn’t got themselves together yet either; that shit had nothing to do with me.

  “I had no idea Tae was talking about ‘Black’ from the dating site, considering it appears we gave each other false names and clearly erroneous personalities. Well, mine was the truth, other than the name I gave you,” she smirked.

  Not allowing me a chance to get a word in, she continued her spiel, advising me that the night we’d hooked up had meant absolutely nothing to her, which I could see. It was better we ended that conversation and continued to face the obvious: the way she saw it, nothing had happened.

  “We both wanted to bust a nut, and got just that,” she reiterated.

  I stood there like a deer-in-the-headlights. I couldn’t believe that woman! She was on a whole other level with hers. I was just relieved she wanted to leave well enough alone. One thing for sure, as she had said, all I was interested in that night was to bust off—nothing more and nothing less.

  Chapter Seven ~ Tae’s Uncompromising Position

  Let’s not forget that the emotions are the great captains of our lives,

  and we obey them without realizing it.

  — Vincent Van Gogh

  

  Darnell has been gone for two days now and it feels more like a month. I know one thing: I never should have taken a week off from work, like I had somewhere to go. Honestly, I was hoping Darnell would have made an exception this one time and allowed me tag along with him and the boys, but that didn’t happen. I don’t understand why not, considering they are always at the house with me any other day, so there really isn’t that big of a difference just a change of scenery, but there was no convincing Darnell of that.

  Nae is out with her new mysterious lover boy, whom she appears to be falling for. She usually keeps them around for about two weeks tops before she discards them like yesterday’s trash. She said a man’s favorite saying is, “There’s no pussy like new pussy,” and in her eyes, there’s no dick better than the sweet taste and feel of a new dick. Hopefully, the right man will come along and change her mind; until that day comes, she’s said, “It’s a dog-eat-dog world and she’s humping-and-dumping.” I, on the other hand, cannot wrap my mind or my legs around that many men coming in and out of my life, my kitty kat, and like Nae says, “Mouth, if they’re working with a monster.” I was so good on that; she can have all of that action all by herself.

  It never fails: once again, I am having yet another sleepless night, and to top it off, I’m all out of melatonin. Looks like I am going to have to take this opportunity to get out the house and make a quick run to the twenty-four-hour Duane Reade since I’ve been cooped up in it all day. I’m not trying to impress anyone, but I refuse to step out of the house with a scarf on my head or looking crazy, so a pair of leggings, paired with an oversized sweater, along with my black-and-gray UGGS, will do just fine. Since my hair is in braids, all I have to do is remove my scarf and I’m good to go, which is a task in itself considering I will have to put it right back on when I get back in the fifteen or so minutes it takes to get there and back.

  As I observe myself in the mirror, it dawns on me, that no matter what I put on, without a shadow of a doubt, I always look good. I can walk out of this house with a garbage bag on and still turn heads. Yes, I am conceited, and I have a reason. I have never felt this good about myself or my life, and it feels good to finally love and admire the beautiful, intelligent woman I see looking back at me in the mirror. On that note, let me make this run so I can get back here to do nothing. Thank God, the weather isn’t too cold, forcing me to wear a jacket because I hate wearing them; they are so unnecessary.

  Just my luck, Duane Reade is all out of melatonin, and I don’t know what to look for as a substitute, and to make matters worse, the pharmacists are off the clock at this time of night. Destroying what’s left of the shelf looking for a sleep aid to cure my insomnia, I hear a male voice reciting my entire government name prior to marrying Darnell.

  “Latavia Watkins,” the male voice yells.

  When I look up, I almost die and come right back. I haven’t seen this man in years—Mr. Braxton Kirkland, also known as BK for short.

  “Hello there,” I reply uneasily. I haven’t a clue why the hell I’m all nervous and feeling like the same teenage school girl I was with him back in the ninth grade.

  BK and I stand in the middle of the aisle, catching up on lost time for about forty-five minutes. I am able to learn he is newly-divorced, hasn’t been with his wife for the past two-and-a-half years, and doesn’t have any children. He also makes mention of meeting someone a few months ago while out of town on business, who he has been kicking it with. BK makes sure to include the fact that it isn’t serious yet, but this woman might be a keeper.

  ‘Whatever that means,’ I think.

  Afterward, we say our goodbyes and exchange numbers—and before you go minding my business once again, yes, I did inform him I was married to the love of my life, Darnell. Unfortunately, that didn’t barricade the pool that is forming in my panties. ‘What the hell is going on?’ I do not understand where this feeling is coming from or why. The last time I recall seeing or speaking to BK was in the tenth grade, the time I almost gave him my virginity. In my heart, I was still a virgin because I had never willingly given myself to a man.

  BK was only able to crown my love canal with the head of his shotgun before I pushed him off me, crying hysterically because I was scared to death of the pain. I didn’t think it would be as painful as it usually was because that time I’d wanted it, but I was proven wrong. He angrily called me a tease and said he wanted nothing else to do with me. Devastated by his behavior after all I had withstood at the hands of a man, I developed an in-grown hatred for all men. At that point in my life, it was clear to me that the men I’d loved wanted to either hurt me with their man parts, break my heart, or a little of both.

  On my drive home, I ponder how long it has been since the last time I’ve seen BK. He looks exactly the same, just sexier. Darnell must have known my thoughts were not my own, I think as my Blackberry goes off, interrupting me before my mind goes to a place it has no business going. There’s an alert informing me of a new incoming text message. I assume it is my beloved Darnell, but to my surprise it is BK.

  The text message reads:

  You looked exquisite this evening and time has been good to you. Please don’t go missing in action on me again and please do me the honor of staying in touch so we can catch up on lost time.

  I simply reply, I would love that.

  I am now smiling from ear-to-ear. Why? My panties are completely soaking wet. How? As my mind begins to recap how good that man looks at an even six-feet tall, caramel complexion with dimples, waves in his head that would make a nation seasick, and a body that looks like he lives in the gym and needs me as his new workout buddy or personal weight bench.

  I don’t know
what has come over me. I am in the process of pulling my car over on the side of the road, putting my hazards on, and my car in park. I can’t fight this feeling any longer or wait until I get home. As I recline my seat, I permit my hands and mind to stray as I close my eyes and suck on my fingers to get them moist so I can trace my erect nipples with the tips of my now-damp fingers, imagining they are the tip of BK’s tongue. My other hand locates and explores my love garden in search of the pearl switch to release my hidden waterfall. Sinking deeper into my thoughts, my fingers become BK’s fingers, and he is playing my pearl like it is a piano. I love the sounds of his fingers playing in my treasure chest. Reaching the much-needed and anticipated climax, a tap on my window startles me, almost fast-forwarding me straight to heaven.

  “Mrs. Carter, is everything okay?” Officer Martinez questions.

  Sitting my seat back up and opening my eyes, I can see the flashing lights behind me and Officer Martinez standing at the driver-side window of my car. ‘Oh shit, this can’t be happening!’ I hurriedly pull my sweater down to cover my exposed flesh, and out of reflex, lick my juices off my fingers. I can’t allow them to just dry up and go to waste.

  “Yes, I’m fine, Officer Martinez,” I reply, letting the window down.

  “Good, I was patrolling the area when I noticed your car and pulled over to make sure everything was all right with you,” he explains.

  “Thank you. I’m fine; I just had to stop to put in a call to order some Chinese food so it’s ready by the time I get to my side of town,” I lie.

  “I understand, Mrs. Carter.”

  “Thank you again, Officer Martinez. I haven’t eaten all day and need some food before taking my medicine,” I exaggerate, lifting up my Duane Reade bag to make my lie look and sound good. He’s a cop like Darnell. They are always investigating something, on and off the duty, so I have to make this look and sound good.

  “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mrs. Carter,” he says, walking back to his patrol car.