Zane's Nervous

by Zane

  Her mother said, “Mrs. Greer said you two had an altercation earlier today. Something about you climbing over her fence to get a ball.”

  “Yes, I did get my ball and she did yell at me but that was it.”

  “She said you yelled back at her later when she was on the way to the store.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Jonquinette said on the brink of tears. “I didn’t see her at all after that.”

  Her parents eyed each other with confused expressions. Finally, her mother patted her on the hand. “Go back to sleep. Everything will be all right.”

  • • •

  The next morning, Jonquinette headed back upstairs after breakfast to get dressed for the day. There wasn’t much to do but she figured she could ride her bike around the block. She entered her room to find both her parents standing there. Her father had an empty can of rat poison in his hand. “I found this under your bed.”

  Jonquinette fell on the floor and cried. “I didn’t do anything!”

  5

  April 1991

  Seventh Grade

  Jonquinette sat in the bleachers, faking a muscle spasm as usual. She hated to participate in gym class. It was ironic because at home, she had become obsessed with physical fitness. All of the baby fat was long gone and she had an hourglass shape. Many of the boys that used to tease her in elementary school were now sweating her to go out with them. She was too nervous to even think about the prospect of dating.

  Sheila Vale hated Jonquinette but no one truly understood why. Jonquinette kept to herself, tried to concentrate on her studies, and went directly home from school every single day.

  Sheila came over to the bleachers, dressed in her gym uniform, and folded her arms over her chest. “So what’s supposed to be wrong with you today?”

  Jonquinette eyed her. “I have a muscle spasm.”

  “Again? You don’t look like you have a damn thing wrong with you.”

  Jonquinette didn’t respond. She waited for someone to come to her rescue and a few seconds later, someone did.

  Mrs. Yates, their teacher, yelled toward them. “Sheila, what are you doing? Leave Jonquinette alone. She’s not feeling well.”

  Sheila smacked her lips and walked off.

  After class ended, Jonquinette was in the locker room organizing her locker when she heard several people approach her from behind. She turned to find Sheila and a few of her flunkies staring at her.

  Sheila stepped forward. “I don’t believe there’s a damn thing wrong with you. Take off your clothes.”

  “Take off my clothes?” Jonquinette asked in disbelief.

  “Yes, take them off or I’ll take them off for you.”

  Everyone had gathered around laughing. Not one single girl seemed to be on Jonquinette’s side. She looked toward Mrs. Yates’ office but she wasn’t in there.

  “I’m not taking off my clothes, Sheila.” Jonquinette slammed her locker, grabbed her bookbag, and tried to get past the group. “Excuse me.”

  Sheila grabbed her arm. “Maybe you didn’t hear me good enough. I said take your clothes off.”

  Jonquinette started breathing heavily. She saw no way to escape. She blinked twice and then Jude glared at Sheila before speaking in a threatening tone. “If you don’t get out of my way, I will break every bone in your body. You don’t want to fuck with me. Just ask Brenda Morrison.”

  Fear came over Sheila’s face. Everyone had heard about what Jonquinette had done in second grade and many of them had attended the same school. Brenda and the other two girls had never returned to school, but Jonquinette had returned after a week’s suspension.

  Jude continued, “Now, are you going to move out my way or do I need to start putting foot to ass.”

  “Damn!” one girl yelled out. “Check out Jonquinette breaking bad.”

  A roar of laughter engulfed the room. Mrs. Yates came in and said, “Break it up! Next period starts in five minutes!”

  • • •

  The next day, Jude asked for a bathroom pass during her second period calculus class. Instead of going to the bathroom, she headed to the girls’ locker room and retrieved the three bottles of hair remover she had placed there earlier that morning.

  By the time gym class started, fourth period, the dirt had already been done. It was a particularly sweaty period because Mrs. Yates had them run around the indoor track for an entire thirty minutes. Because one girl misbehaved, they were all being punished.

  Jude fell right in with the rest of them, shocking just about everyone there. Not only did she run; she outran all of them for the entire thirty minutes. Jude wanted to show the world their bomb-ass body.

  After the thirty minutes were up, Mrs. Yates told them to hit the showers and that’s when Jude started acting like Jon again. She went into a stall to change and skipped the shower. For good reason.

  “Oh my God!” was the first thing she heard someone yell out. “What happened to your hair?”

  Then there was just a bunch of screaming as Jude strolled out of the locker room, laughing her ass off.

  • • •

  Jonquinette found the three empty bottles in her locker the following day. Most of the females in her gym class were no-shows that day. They were all at home wondering what they could do about their baldness. Jonquinette held the bottles in her hands, sat down on the bench, and started crying.

  6

  After discussing it with her husband, Jason, Zoe had made up her mind to help the young woman who always seemed withdrawn. As always, she showed up for the meeting, lurked in the back of the room, and tried to sneak out without being noticed. This time, Zoe followed her.

  She caught up to her in the parking lot, climbing into a late model Honda. “Excuse me? Young lady?” Zoe called out to her.

  She stared at Zoe uneasily. “Yes?”

  “I was just wondering if you needed anything.”

  “Anything like what?”

  Zoe walked closer to her, proceeding with caution. She didn’t want to scare her off by overstepping her boundaries. “It’s just that I notice you here every week, but you never say anything.”

  The woman’s eyes dropped to the ground. “Maybe I don’t have anything to say.”

  Zoe forced a smile. “Oh, I don’t think that’s true at all. You wouldn’t come to the meetings if something wasn’t bothering you. This is Hotlanta, after all. I wouldn’t exactly call a sexual addiction meeting someplace to hang out and enjoy the scenery.”

  The woman didn’t respond or look back up.

  “I just wanted you to know that if you ever need someone to talk to, in private, I’m available. Trust me, there’s nothing you could tell me that I wouldn’t understand. If you knew what I’ve been through, you would realize that things can always get worse.”

  The woman fumbled with her keys, hesitating between climbing all the way into the car or standing there. Finally, she said, “What makes you think what you’ve been through is worse than what I’ve been through?”

  Zoe frowned. That was a good point. As horrid as her life had been, she had no clue what this beautiful young woman had endured in her short life. “You’re right. That just tells me that maybe I’m not the one you should be talking to. But, I do have another suggestion.”

  “What’s that?”

  Zoe walked all the way up to her and reached into her jacket pocket to retrieve a business card. She handed it to the young woman. “Call her. She’s the one who helped me and I’m sure she can help you also. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be alive today, much less attending these meetings.”

  The woman eyed Zoe suspiciously before reading the card. “She’s really all that, huh?”

  “Yes, she is. Just give her a chance. You won’t regret it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  No more words were spoken between them. Zoe walked back inside, hearing the woman start the ignition of her Honda and pull off.

  7

 
jonquinette

  I sat at my desk staring at the card. Dr. Marcella Spencer, a psychiatrist. Was I ready for that? There had been so many years of questioning. So many blackouts. So much pain.

  Darnetta poked her head into my office. “What’s up, girl? Can I come in?”

  I put the card under my desk pad out of her view. “Sure, I have a moment.”

  “How’s business?” Darnetta asked as she sat down opposite me at the desk.

  “Better.”

  “Thank goodness, because Boss Man has been walking around here beet-red like he might croak any second.”

  I laughed. “He’ll survive. All businesses have slow periods but things are picking up.”

  Darnetta worked in Accounts Receivable and was very good at collections. I often wondered if people just agreed to pay us so they wouldn’t have to listen to her squeaky voice over the phone anymore.

  “Well, I’m glad we’re shipping more product because he’s really been on those of us over in my department about closing out past due invoices. You would’ve thought his house was about to go into foreclosure or something.”

  “Trust me when I say that Mr. Wilson has no problem paying his bills. It’s his staff members that have to pinch pennies.”

  “Speaking of which, have you heard anything about raise reviews coming up?”

  “No, he’ll probably pull that old ‘We’ll show our appreciation with Christmas bonuses’ routine.”

  Darnetta said, “He’s such a joy.”

  We both laughed.

  “So, Jon, you remember what you told me?”

  “About what?”

  “The next time I ask you to go someplace.”

  I sighed deeply, not wanting to imagine what would come out of her mouth next. “Yes, I remember.”

  “Good, because Logan’s in a wedding next weekend and I refuse to sit in the pews alone while he stands up for one of his immature, silly little friends. I need someone to keep me company. So how about it?”

  She knew she had me. I’d already made a promise. “What time and where?”

  Darnetta snickered with delight. “The wedding is Saturday at four, downtown, and I’ll pick you up at three. Cool?”

  “Sounds like a winner,” I lied.

  “Great!” Darnetta jumped up and headed for the door. “Well, I’m about to go enjoy what’s left of my lunch hour. I can’t believe in this day and time we still have to punch time clocks. That is so primal.”

  I couldn’t help but agree. “I know. It doesn’t make sense, but Mr. Wilson is old-fashioned in many ways.”

  “No, he’s just plain old. What is he? About a hundred ninety?”

  I chuckled. “You better watch yourself. I wouldn’t put hidden cameras in the walls past him.”

  Darnetta eyed the walls, taking me seriously.

  “You can relax. He’s too cheap to invest in them.”

  “Whew, you had me going for a second. Catch you later.”

  “Later.”

  After she was safely down the hall, I closed my office door, went back to my desk, and retrieved the card from under the desk pad. “Dr. Marcella Spencer, can you really help me?”

  I picked up the phone and called to make an appointment.

  • • •

  When I got home, I noticed a U-Haul truck in the parking lot of the complex and wondered if the vacant apartment below me had finally been rented out. There were some college kids living there but they’d broken the lease and moved to the Georgia Tech campus. Thank goodness, because their loud rock music was raking on my nerves.

  I was on the second floor landing, not paying attention to where I was going because I was searching through my purse for some Tylenol to take the second I could grab a cup of water to wash it down, when I bumped right into the backend of a floor model television. I stubbed my toe, the same one I’m always prone to banging against something, and yelled out in pain.

  A man appeared in the doorway of 2-D. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to have this thing out in the hallway so long.”

  I just stared at him. I tried to say something but I’m not even sure I was actually breathing. He was . . . He was . . .

  “Excuse me, Miss. Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I finally managed to say. “I just hit my toe.”

  “Well, toes can be the source of much pain,” he said jokingly.

  I forced a smile. “True.”

  I walked around the television and headed for the stairs leading to the third floor, my floor.

  “I’m Mason. Mason Copeland.”

  “Moving in?”

  “Yes. I just decided to check out Atlanta for a while. I’m originally from D.C.—the Chocolate City.”

  “That’s cool. I used to live in Philadelphia when I first graduated from college.” I don’t know why I asked the next question but I did. “Is your wife home? I’d like to meet her.”

  “Wife? No, I’m single.” He grinned at me and added, “Single and extremely available and accessible.”

  I cleared my throat. “Well, with all the female singles around here, you won’t be for long.”

  “Are you one of the female singles around here?”

  I couldn’t prevent the blush. “Um, yeah. I guess so.”

  “Name?”

  “Jonquinette Pierce.”

  “Jonquinette Pierce. Beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

  Another blush. “Thanks, but I really have to go.”

  I started up the steps.

  “Jonquinette?”

  I turned and saw his head over the railing.

  “Yes?”

  “Maybe you can help me get settled in. Aren’t neighbors supposed to greet newbies with a pound cake, or a pecan pie, or something?”

  I giggled. “I’m not a baker. I can’t even make toast without burning it.”

  He frowned and then laughed. “There’s always store-bought.”

  “Now that’s a thought.”

  I hurried the rest of the way to my apartment. My headache really was tormenting me and I just wanted to take something for it and lie down.

  jude

  Mason Copeland, huh? I didn’t even think so. I just knew that Jon would haul ass the way she always did whenever a man said something to her. How dare she actually flirt with him? I wouldn’t have that nonsense. No way.

  Granted, the man looked good. Damn good. If I saw a brotha with honey-almond skin, hazel eyes, and dreads, someplace inconspicuous, it would definitely be on. But this Mason, hunk or not, lived right below us and that shit was out of the question. No serious relationships. Just sex and I was the only one entitled to that. Jon was really tripping lately. First calling up that shrink bitch’s office. Now she was holding actual conversations with men. Something had to be done. Something would be done. I’d worked too hard for control and I’d do whatever it took to keep things just the way they were.

  8

  jonquinette

  I circled the office building five times in my car, debating about keeping my appointment. I yearned to let go of all the emotions that were balled up inside of me, but talking to a complete stranger about my problems didn’t sit quite right with me. No matter what accolades Dr. Marcella Spencer had received, I didn’t know her from a hole in the wall and I had a serious enough problem talking to people I actually knew.

  I finally parked and got up enough nerve to get out of the car and walk into the building. I caught the elevator up to her floor and located the correct office. There were two other people waiting in front of me. Great. I’d have to sit there and let the anticipation build.

  I gave my name to the secretary and she gave me some forms to fill out. That took all of five minutes, leaving me with what turned out to be only a short wait because the two people were waiting on a third to come out of the inner office. He was the “authentic patient” and I stared at him while he exited, wondering how a person that appeared so normal could need a psychiatrist.

>   Five minutes later, I found myself sitting across an expensive desk from a strikingly beautiful woman. My first thought was why would she go into her chosen profession when she could have been a high-end fashion model or something.

  “Jonquinette. Lovely name.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What brings you to see me today?”

  That was one hell of a good question.

  “Dr. Spencer, what’s the definition of insanity?” I asked her, unable to meet her eyes with my own. “I know what I’ve heard.”

  “What have you heard?”

  “That insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “No, not really. I believe that’s just something a self-proclaimed prophet made up to sugarcoat the term.”

  She giggled. “Interesting thought.”

  I waited for her to get her laugh out and then dropped the bomb.

  “I think I’m insane. I think I’ve been insane for a very long time.”

  As suspected, Dr. Spencer stopped smiling. “What makes you say that?”

  “Strange things. Things I can’t remember.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  I knew discussing matters would be tremendously complicated but I was shaking like a leaf. I was scared, but the thought of walking out of her office and facing my life the way it had been for the past fifteen years was even worse.

  “Nasty, vile things written in my handwriting that I don’t remember writing. People accusing me of things I don’t recall doing. I mean, all of them can’t be mistaken. Right?”

  “All of them?” she asked.

  “My daddy. People I went to school with. Everyone who’s ever accused me of something.”

  “Could you please elaborate?”

  I got up from the chair and started pacing the floor. “I’m sorry. I know this must make zero sense. It doesn’t even make sense to me and I’m right in the middle of it.”

  “Right in the middle of what?”

  I smirked. “Hell. Right smack dab in the middle of hell.”