Ladies Listen Up

by Darren Coleman

  He looked back up. His voice was now shaken. “Help me?”

  “Yeah, but you got to let me take it from the top.”

  Jacob nodded and Elise leaned back. Then she asked, “Do you have anything to drink?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got Sprite, apple juice, and maybe some iced tea.”

  “Can I help myself?” she asked as she stood up.

  Puzzled as to why she wanted to get it herself, he still said, “Sure.”

  A few minutes later, she walked back down the steps with two wineglasses and a half bottle of Joel Gott Zinfandel. “I took a sip upstairs. It was delicious, so I hope you don’t mind. We’re both uptight and could use a sip. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Jacob was ready to laugh at himself now. “Sure, why not? I have a minor in my home; one of my students, no less. Of course I want to give her some Jesus juice like Michael Jackson. Next, I’ll break out the porno.”

  She laughed. “That’s funny as hell. But don’t sleep. I might like that.”

  Jacob couldn’t believe that he was actually laughing with this girl. There was something very womanly and mature about the way she carried herself. She didn’t seem like a little girl trying to play grown. Instead, her demeanor seemed natural, as if she’d navigated herself in many an adult situation before. He accepted the glass of wine that she’d poured for him. He wondered if she’d like it. It wasn’t your everyday bottle of wine.

  “Nice,” she said, taking another sip.

  “So, Elise. Let’s get down to it. Tell me what’s on your mind. From the beginning, as you say.” She was now fiddling with the remotes and in a matter of seconds she had his DirecTV on and tuned to the smooth R&B music channel. She took her seat and this time she kicked off her Indian tapestry boots. Jacob thought they were really cute on her. With her two braids, she had the whole Native American thing working overtime.

  Anthony Hamilton was playing on the television. As she sipped Elise began to sway her head back and forth to the beat. “All right, Mr. Marsh,” she said as she killed the first glass and reached for the bottle. “You remember I told you I was from Indy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I was in Indy, but that’s not where I’m from originally. I lived in Baltimore most of my life—until I was thirteen actually. That’s when my mom died of HIV. She was an intravenous drug user for years, but she did manage to get clean for the last four years of her life. She was good to me. She had a problem, but she did her best. I never knew my dad. When my mother passed, her sister sent for me. She lived in Indianapolis. At that point I had no choice but to go. I had begged her to let me stay with my best friend, Tiffany. Tiffany’s mom had okayed it, but my aunt insisted I come. When I got to Indy, I realized real quick why she wanted me out there so badly.”

  Jacob was listening, already captivated by her tale. “Why was that?”

  “She had three kids, all girls, and she needed a babysitter. From the day I got there, she tried to make me feel like she was doing me a favor, but one thing for sure, for all the things my mother did wrong, she didn’t raise no fool. I became a cook, a cleaner, and I practically raised those kids for three years. The one good thing that came out of it, I became the best hair braider in Indy. By the time I turned sixteen, I was making five hundred on a slow week.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, but how much of that do you think I got to keep? My aunt began hitting me up for money left and right. It got to the point that I would only do braids when she wasn’t home so that she couldn’t keep track of how much money I had.”

  “So how did you wind up here?”

  “Tiffany. She brought me back.”

  “So you guys stayed in touch while you were gone.”

  “Actually, we didn’t. Her mom got my aunt’s number and called me one day.” Elise’s eyes began to tear up. “She called me to tell me that she had been doing really well and that they’d moved from Baltimore down to PG County once her job transferred her to a new store. She managed a Victoria’s Secret store.” Jacob was silent as he watched tears begin to roll down her cheeks. “She had bought Tiffany a car for her sixteenth birthday. A month later, Tiffany was in an accident on the parkway. She died, driving back from Baltimore, after going to visit her boyfriend. She fell asleep.”

  She took a minute to calm herself and her breathing back down. “I came out here for her funeral. I ended up staying with her mom for three weeks after that. It was like I was grieving my mom and Tiffany at the same time. We cried for two weeks straight, honestly, not a day went by. Her mother felt like I was the only one who could have possibly understood what she was going through. Then one day we stopped crying. We got in her car and drove to Indianapolis and packed all my belongings up. I told my aunt that I wanted out. I wanted a better life than I was going to get there taking care of her kids. Tiffany’s mom—her name is Olivia—told me about a salon that she went to and that I should try to get a job there. The rest is history.”

  She then explained how Olivia helped her get an apartment. When Jacob asked why she didn’t move in with Olivia, she explained that they both agreed that they needed their own space, and since Elise was making even more money doing braids here than in Indy, she could afford it. She was even mastering the art of sewing in weaves. It wouldn’t be long before she was making a grand per week.

  This was where the problem with Anna had come in. She explained how a simple friendly conversation had led Anna to claim her as her best friend. “Mr. Marsh, I think something is wrong with the girl. She shows up at my house unannounced and she falls asleep on my couch and just expects it to be okay that she spends the night. I was trying to be nice at first, but she’s starting to get on my nerves. Anytime I even start to tell her about herself, she goes into a near rant. She claims that the whole world is against her.”

  “So what kinds of things has she said that disturbed you?”

  “You mean about you?”

  “Well…yes.”

  “She says that you hate her. At first she said you were like a father to her—no, she said a big brother. But after the rape, she must have disgusted you.”

  “She told you about that?”

  “Yeah. She said that the guy she gave a ride home forced his way on her. That’s how I found out that she was gay.”

  “What?” Jacob’s eyebrows went up in the air.

  “Yeah, she told me that she told your student teacher that she was gay. He was trying to make a move on her, but when she told him he went ballistic and forced himself on her.”

  Jacob was floored. Anna gay. It didn’t make any sense, at least not to his theory of her being madly in love with him. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Well, that’s what she told me. She said that before I got here, she lost all her friends because someone had let the cat out of the bag…about her liking girls. She goes on and on about how I was sent here to help her and about how much she needs me. I think she’s a little bitter with you. She said after the situation with the guy…Dean…she said you changed and that you two aren’t really close anymore.”

  We were never close, Jacob thought as he shook his head.

  “The thing that concerns me is that she thinks you had something to do with him raping her. Everything with her is a conspiracy.”

  With that, Jacob’s heart sank. His worst fears were founded. He was definitely going down. “So…um…did she say that she was going to go to the school administrators about this?”

  “Oh no. She said she wouldn’t ever want this to get out. She feels ashamed about the whole thing. She can’t wait for the school year to get out. She wants to go away to school on a scholarship and get far away from here as possible. She wants to go to school somewhere in Florida.”

  “Bethune Cookman, I know she mentioned it.”

  “Yep, that’s it.”

  “So what else were you concerned about?”

  “Well, it seems like she has sort of tried to move in. She said that she admires me so much. An
d I won’t lie: I enjoy her company at times, but I get tired. School and working thirty hours a week isn’t easy.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “The other night I came home from work. All I wanted to do was go to bed, especially since I had to get up at six in the morning and go right back to work. It was Friday night.” Jacob nodded, listening. “Well, here she comes knocking on the door. I don’t know why I just didn’t tell her I was tired…Instead, I took my clothes off, wet my hair in the shower, and wrapped a towel around my body. I went to the door and opened it with the chain still on. She wanted to know why I had the chain on. I told her that I had company and that I’d talk to her the next day.”

  “Okay.”

  “I wish. This bitch…” she blurted out. Then she caught herself. “Excuse me for cursing, Mr. Marsh, but when I think about it I get upset.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Mr. Marsh, her ass starts crying and eventually banging on my door. She knocks off and on for at least forty-five minutes. The next morning I head out the door for work and she’s in the parking lot, asleep in her car. She never even woke up.”

  Jacob found the whole thing unsettling. Anna’s behavior was definitely unstable. “So what happened after that?”

  “I didn’t see her until Monday at school and she acted like nothing ever happened.”

  There was silence until Jacob stood and asked, “So what are you thinking? How does this all turn out?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I came to you. I don’t have anyone to speak to. I didn’t want to put her business out there. But I don’t really want to deal with her. I was wondering if you can get me transferred out of your class.”

  Jacob swallowed hard. That was the last thing he wanted. “Yeah, sure.”

  “Okay. I only told you this because I wanted to…just let you know that she had me a little nervous.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “I’d better be going,” she said, standing now, facing Jacob. She was staring into his eyes and he back into hers. He thought about all she’d been through in her young life. All the courage that she’d shown. Her independence was incredible. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t share this with anyone. Especially my living arrangements. I just want to graduate and then get my own salon as soon as I finish business school.”

  “No problem,” he said as he closed his eyes for a second, imagining what it would be like to kiss her lips.

  “Good night,” she said.

  A minute later and he watched her pull her car out. He shut his garage and entered the house. He turned off the lights and headed upstairs for a shower.

  After watching Elise leave Jacob’s, she stood at his door fighting with herself. She wanted so badly to knock and to be let in. She was tired of watching. She was ready to give him her sweetness. In her mind, the idea was planted as firm as a hundred-year-old oak. There was no way he wouldn’t love it.

  17

  Ain’t Too Proud to Beg

  My column was a hit. It had gotten great response for the first month, with hundreds of letters coming in. For the February edition the response was even stronger as the bags of mail came in with over two thousand letters. We weren’t taking any e-mails or faxes.

  “Gotta separate the pretenders from the people who really want your help. Anyone will bang out an e-mail and hit send, but someone who takes the time to write or type a letter and mail it in this day and age is serious,” Jonetta had said. She’d come up with the idea of calling me Dr. C., instead of using my real name, and I loved it. Reminded me a bit of Dr. Phil.

  The magazine, Girl Talk, had gone through a total overhaul. A multimillion-dollar face-lift and advertising blitz had it placed everywhere you saw Essence, Vibe, and Ebony. The articles were given more of an edge. The topics were racier, more compelling; there was some exclusive celebrity gossip and interviews, and on top of that, my column was being pushed as a real sounding board for women. I was billed as the next big thing. After the editors read the responses I’d given to a few of the letters, I was given two full pages. The key was that my advice was real, not watered down. I was given the green light to trash any letters that didn’t warrant real attention and instructed to give it to them raw.

  Dear Dr. C.,

  Recently I met a man who was everything that I have been looking for. He always lets me know that I’m on his mind with phone calls and the flowers he sends to my job. We have so much in common and yet our differences only serve to intrigue me more. Whenever we’re together he always makes me feel so sexy and his passion for me is unbelievable. I haven’t had a man make love to me like this since I was in high school. I want to be with him all the time and lately I have been thinking about trying to make a true commitment with this man.

  The only problem is that I am married, for eleven years now, and most people, including my husband, think that I am happily so. Do you think I should give it all up to be with my lover? He has been in a relationship for the past two years and says that the situation with her is no longer fulfilling him either.

  Not Feeling an Ounce of Guilt in Greensboro, NC.

  Dear Not Guilty,

  The first thing I have to ask is…are you kidding me? Have you always been this foolish or have you recently started using drugs? Here’s a simple fact. Any man who doesn’t respect the fact that you are married is a D.O.G. and couldn’t possibly respect the institution of marriage. Furthermore, if you believe that you can take the stolen moments of fucking—that’s what it is when you are both with someone else—and turn it into a meaningful relationship, then by all means shoot your best shot. What it sounds like is that you are extremely selfish and obviously good at being sneaky. That is one thing that you and your lover obviously have in common. Perhaps you two deserve each other and I’m sure you could provide each other many years of misery in the future.

  Just remember that when you lie down with dogs, you’re bound to get fleas. Do your spouse a favor and either get some counseling or leave him.

  Yours truly,

  Dr. C.

  It was so easy for me to deliver such biting responses. It was everything I’d wanted to say to the women I’d dated for so long, but now I had a soapbox to stand on and a nationwide audience to listen.

  “Wow, you certainly have some strong opinions on infidelity and those who commit it. Actually, it’s kind of refreshing to hear a brother say these things,” Lanelle said as she scanned over the column. “A little brash, though, you think?”

  We were seated in the lobby of Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse in Bethesda. It was our fourth date. Two movies followed by dinner, a Wizards vs. Sixers game on Martin Luther King’s birthday, and now here we were doing the unthinkable, going out yet again with no clear indication that we’d be getting our freak on. Getting to someone at a slow pace was a new thing for me. And don’t get me wrong; I had never been the type to hound a woman for sex. It wasn’t classy. Normally, I just played the game as it came to me. I usually took what sisters offered when they were ready. But most of the time they were ready really quick.

  A little conversation and some time with a brother’s representative would do wonders. I’d show women whoever they were looking for and that was the definition of game as far as I was concerned. It wasn’t the man with the most money, or even the best-looking cat. It was the chameleon-like ability to transform to survive in whatever surroundings a brother was put in. Women were like snowflakes. Each one incredibly different, yet all pretty much shared the same properties. Big balls of emotion wrapped in pretty packages. Each one deliciously desirable in her own way.

  I’d been the sensitive brother, the intellectual, the aggressive, the confident, and even the need-a-mother-type brother, when the situation called for that. If we men listened long enough, women always told or showed what they needed, and usually it wasn’t you. So the best thing, I’d found, was to get something out of the deal before they discovered who you were.

  The waitress took our orders, and
as soon as she walked away I realized that I needed to figure Lanelle out. I had only so long before I went into the land of no return. The “we went out but it never got serious” zone. I had to attack.

  I stared across the table at her. She had on a red V-neck cashmere dress. It hugged her frame in such a lovely manner that I had wanted to reach across the table and ravish her. I was hoping she’d get up to go to the restroom so I could steal the view that her fur coat had hidden from me on the way in. I wanted to see that walk in that dress. I doubted she wore any panties underneath, and no hose would hold that thing in place. Though she was always dressed to a T at work, her after-hours attire was so on point as to elicit excitement from me.

  “So, Lanelle, I got to tell you that I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you and spending time with you.”

  She smiled. “Well, I hope so. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you as well.”

  I nodded and smiled. “I was wondering something.” She leaned back as if to say, Spit it out, then, brother. “I was wondering what you thought about us?”

  “What about us?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve just been really thinking lately about you. About us; taking things to another level.”

  The waitress came back with our bread and water. Lanelle squeezed the lemon in hers, then mine, before she spoke. “What level might that be? Sexually, emotionally…what?”

  “Daaaammn,” I said coolly. “I just meant more like seeing more of each other. You haven’t been to my place and I would love to see you more on a relaxed-type level. Where we both kick our shoes off, watch a DVD. Maybe I’d cook you a meal or something.”