All the Things I Meant to Tell You

by Tiffany L. Warren

  “I’ll send you the money, Auntie.”

  “You aren’t going to come down? It would really do my heart good to see you. Your mama’s too.”

  “Is she there yet?”

  My mama lived in the next town over from Shady Falls, Goldsboro. If she wasn’t there already, then surely she was on her way. I hadn’t talked to her in two years. Not after what she’d done when my grandmother died. She’d stolen all of her nice things, pawned what she could, and kept the rest. By the time Aunt Sherrie had gotten there, everything was gone.

  “Rochelle doesn’t need her heart to feel good.”

  “Hahna, don’t be like that. I understand her. She was desperate when Mama died. If I can forgive her, you can.”

  “Grandma managed to keep all of her jewelry even when she was sending me care packages at Spelman and paying any bills I had that fell short. She wasn’t even cold in the ground before Rochelle started stealing.”

  My mother was only fifteen years older than me, so Aunt Sherrie and Grandma were my mother figures. I never could call Rochelle, Mama, or Mom. I tried, but it didn’t ever sound right. I don’t think she even liked it.

  “Your mama’s a different person now. She’s gotten saved and she’s running for the Lord.”

  The Lord must’ve been giving her lottery ticket money and a fifth of gin, because that’s the only thing that got her running.

  “I’ll be there, Auntie. Will clear my schedule for the rest of the week.”

  “Good. And bring that fella you laying up with.”

  “Auntie.”

  “Don’t Auntie me. Anybody who don’t answer their aunt’s calls in the middle of the night must got a man between their legs.”

  This time I couldn’t contain my laughter. It rolled out and Aunt Sherrie joined right on in. I was glad I could make her forget her sorrows for a moment. ’Cause she didn’t fool me one bit. I knew that even though Uncle Joe was a cheater, she loved him. She’d loved him her whole life. And I was going to help her bury one of the few male figures I’d had in my life.

  “I’ll see you in a day or so, Auntie. And I will bring my gentleman caller. His name is Sam.”

  “We’ll be happy to meet him.”

  I took a bowl of grapes and two bottles of water back into the bedroom. Sam opened his eyes as I climbed into the bed.

  “Everything all right?” he asked.

  “No. My uncle died.”

  Saying the words to Sam made them feel more real than when Aunt Sherrie had told me. I sobbed a little as a flood of tears fell. Sam rubbed my back and kissed my neck. Even the good feelings that he brought didn’t overcome my sudden sadness.

  “Is he here in Georgia?”

  “No, he and my aunt Sherrie live in Shady Falls, North Carolina.”

  “Did you know that’s where Ron grew up?”

  “I think I did. I lived in the next town over. Might as well have been another country, but it was only about thirty minutes away.”

  “Are you going to the funeral?” Sam asked.

  “There won’t be a funeral unless I do.”

  “Let me guess. You’re paying for everything?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, it’s good that there’s someone in the family that can pay.”

  Sam’s comment didn’t hit right for some reason, but I didn’t have time to dissect that. It was time to grieve for Uncle Joe.

  “That’s true. I told them you’re coming with me.”

  “To the funeral?”

  “You will, won’t you? I don’t really like going home. There’s so many things I’d like to forget about the way I grew up. This is going to bring it all back.”

  “Yes, of course I’ll come, babe. You know I’ve got you.”

  I snuggled into Sam’s arms and felt a different kind of warmth. The feeling of safety and security. I just hoped meeting my family wouldn’t have Sam looking for his own safety net.

  Chapter 14

  TWILA

  I didn’t know why I let Debbie talk me into coming to Club Phenom. Traci and Abena had spent the whole night bragging about some huge NBA party they were having, and Debbie just had to go. I didn’t care about finding a baller to fleece, so I was less motivated for the club—especially Phenom.

  Typically, Debbie wasn’t even the kind of chick who could get through the doors of Club Phenom. She didn’t have the right number of zeroes in her bank account. Wasn’t in the correct circles. Those years right after she dropped out of college would’ve disqualified her also. There weren’t too many ex-strippers who had turned tricks that were allowed in Club Phenom.

  The only thing qualifying Debbie was the fact that the place was owned by our line sisters. I would’ve felt some kind of way about that if I was Debbie. She didn’t care.

  We had a VIP booth in the upstairs portion of the club. VIP was almost a misnomer at Club Phenom, because everyone there was beyond that status in real life. But our booth gave us a view of the club from behind a glass partition. We could observe and not partake. Same as in the room behind the red door.

  The door I didn’t want to think about.

  Traci swallowed the rest of her second shot of Hennessy and slammed the glass on the table. That glass slam meant she had something to get off her chest.

  “Are we not going to talk about how disrespectful Big Ron’s ex-wife and her friends were?” Traci asked. “I hope those hoes are not coming to the wedding.”

  “She probably is, since her daughters are in it, that will be her excuse. I certainly hope she doesn’t bring her entourage,” Abena said.

  “And what the hell you think she wanted to say in that toast? She hit it first?” Traci was big mad when she said this, but I cracked up.

  “She probably just wanted to tell everyone that she was okay with them getting together,” I said when I stopped laughing. “Maybe she didn’t want anyone to feel weird.”

  Abena shook her head. “Trying to make their upcoming wedding about her. Just like a damn Karen.”

  I lifted an eyebrow at Abena. I didn’t like how recklessly my friends were labeling white women as Karens. It was the new Becky. Except Becky was the kind to sleep with all the black men, and Karen would call the police on the same ones. I didn’t think Sabrina was either.

  I tried to put myself in Sabrina’s shoes. Ron was a good man—maybe even better than the man she left him for. She could’ve been remorseful about the way things turned out. Maybe she always thought that Ron would be there when she was ready to have him back.

  I’d been there and done that. Not with a husband, but with more than one boo who was gone by the time I’d made up my mind.

  “I don’t think she’s like that,” I said to hostile glares. “We gotta remember who Big Ron is. He loved her. He had kids with her.”

  “And?” Debbie asked.

  “And I think we ought to give her a break. Couldn’t she just be a woman who fell in love with a man, divorced him, and is feeling uncomfortable about his moving on?” I asked.

  Abena shrugged. “That’s her fault, and maybe a conversation she needed to have offline with Ron. I do know this, my line sister will not be subject to her shenanigans again.”

  “Twila, you were the main one about to beat her tail,” Traci said. “But now you want to give her a break?”

  “I wanted to smack her friends. If she had left them at home, she probably wouldn’t have felt the need to show out.”

  “You probably right,” Debbie said. “I’m sure her friends were talking all kinds of trash in the car on the way to the party.”

  “Of course, they were,” I said. “I think she had good intentions coming to the party, but she just went left at some point.”

  “Well she needs to ditch her friends before they get her ass beat,” Traci said.

  Abena nodded in agreement. “This bride squad rolls deep.”

  I took another long sip of wine. I couldn’t judge them, because I had violent tendencies my damn self, and there’s
no way I wasn’t jumping in if they were all in some sort of brawl.

  “Y’all ain’t ‘bout to have me on Straight from the A,” I said. “That girl be having all the business.”

  “That girl ain’t gonna put you in her blog,” Debbie said. “You ain’t a celebrity.”

  “I’m celebrity adjacent. I have been invited to join the cast of several Atlanta reality shows.” I said that as a brag, but was it really something to brag about? Once the words came out my mouth, I decided I wanted them back.

  “Speaking of celebrities, which Twila is not, where are all the NBA players?” Debbie asked. “Y’all said it was gonna be hella ballers in here tonight. I saw two.”

  Abena laughed. “All you need is two and that makes it an NBA party.”

  “Well they both showed up with groupies. I need to meet somebody. Who in here is single?”

  “There are plenty available men on the dance floor,” Traci said. “You want to go down there?”

  “Abena, you coming with me?” Debbie asked, knowing that me and Traci were not the type to go out on crowded dance floors.

  “Let’s go, but as soon as my feet start hurting, I’m done.”

  Debbie laughed. “You are such a grandma. You should’ve worn comfortable shoes.”

  “I just need another shot of Henny. That will make toes numb.”

  They left me and Traci in the VIP section, and neither of us felt upset about being left behind.

  “How have you been?” Traci asked me. “Hahna let it slip that you’ve been staying at her house.”

  I rolled my eyes. Hahna and her big mouth.

  “Girl, I just have a thing going on. Started therapy again. Nothing I can’t handle.”

  Traci poked her lips out and lowered her eyebrows in irritation or anger, I couldn’t tell which.

  “Seriously, Twila? You haven’t been to the club in more than a minute. You were a regular. We haven’t seen you since you popped up with your last man. And it hadn’t been awhile before that.”

  I’d kept the truth from Traci and Abena, but maybe they needed to know. What if the guy came back and raped someone else? Maybe he already had.

  “Can I share something with you, and you not say anything? Not even to your husband or Abena?”

  Traci narrowed her eyes at me. I knew this was asking a lot. Telling Traci anything was like an automatic three-person share. I didn’t even think she tried to keep secrets.

  “This must be something big if you’re asking me not to tell them.”

  “It is. I haven’t figured out how to deal with it yet, so I just don’t want everyone up in my business.”

  Traci scooted closer to me at the table. That was good. I didn’t want to have to speak too loudly.

  “I’ll keep your secret, Twila.”

  “Are you sure? ’Cause when I tell you why I haven’t been at the club, you are going to want to immediately tell someone.”

  “I have you my sister.”

  “I was raped here, Traci. In the lifestyle room.”

  Traci’s face was a mixture of disbelief, shock, and finally sympathy. I’m not surprised that the sympathy piece came last. She owned Club Phenom and prided herself on her safety protocols.

  “How were you raped? We run background checks on everyone that we allow in here.”

  I nodded. “That’s honestly why I’m telling you. I want to know who he is.”

  “Wait. When did this happen?” Traci asked.

  “About two years ago. I haven’t been right since.”

  “Is that when you started collecting weapons and shit?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I already had a gun, but the tasers, machetes, and switchblades that I have stashed all over are because of being attacked.”

  “Why do you want to know who it is? Are you going to press charges?”

  I had no intentions of pressing charges, but the urgency in Traci’s voice irritated me. Did she care more about the success of her precious club than she cared about me? I shouldn’t be surprised.

  “No, but would you support me if I did?”

  Traci blew out a long stream of air. “You know if law enforcement knew what we did in here, we’d be shut down.”

  “I get it, but I still want to know who the guy is that raped me. He’s moved into my subdivision, I think. I saw him a few weeks ago and I’ve been staying with Hahna ever since.”

  “You give me a description of the guy, and I can scan our files for who he might be. But, what do you plan to do with the information if you’re not pressing charges?”

  “I would be incriminating myself if I gave you details.”

  Traci nodded. “Do you need any help with that?”

  “I might.”

  “Let me know. I don’t appreciate my sacred space being desecrated.”

  I felt seen in that moment. She understood my need for revenge. Hahna and Kimberly would’ve both tried to stop me. They, like my therapist, would think this part was unhealthy. But the only way I could get my power back on this one, was to make sure that asshole paid for what he’d done to me.

  I should have told my sister sooner.

  Chapter 15

  KIMBERLY

  The suite at the Marriott Marquis was the size of a small apartment, but it felt tiny and the air heavy. Ron hadn’t said a word since they’d gotten there. He’d done a fair amount of pacing back and forth, but no speaking. Kimberly sat on the couch with the television remote in her hand, and waited for him to break the silence, because this was his mess that needed fixing. She didn’t have any toxic exes.

  “I don’t know why she showed up acting like that,” Ron finally said. “We’ve had peace since the divorce. This just doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Maybe her happy home isn’t,” Kimberly said. “Maybe seeing you with someone else made her wish she’d done things differently.”

  “Too late for that kind of thinking. It was too late for that when she decided to lay up with her ex. Cheating is a deal breaker for me, Kim. It might be my only one.”

  They agreed there. Cheating was on the top of Kimberly’s deal breaker list, but it sure wasn’t the only one. Not keeping ex-wives in order was slowly climbing the list of importance.

  “Maybe it was just the alcohol. She was pretty lit. She showed up almost drunk and kept drinking non-stop at the party.”

  “Her friends were lit too. Wendy was pushing up on half the frats.”

  “Yeah, she exclusively dates wealthy black men, so she was in her element.”

  “Not Nicole, though? Is she single too?”

  Ron shook his head. “Unless things have changed, she’s engaged to the head of a private equity group. He’s worth millions.”

  “What’s her beef with you?”

  Ron shrugged. “I have no idea. They all know that Sabrina cheated on me. So, I don’t know what she could be angry about. I think she, like you, has an issue with interracial marriages, but she won’t say it out loud because she’s white.”

  “And I can say it out loud because I’m black?”

  “You know it’s different when you say it. It comes from a different place.”

  Kimberly pressed her lips together and frowned. Then she said, “I don’t have an issue with interracial marriages. I have an issue with black men being married to white women.”

  Ron scoffed. “What does that mean?”

  “It means that when people tell black women to keep their options open, I want to know with whom they mean. Because, my big, black ass has never been hit on or even approached by anyone but a brother. So, yeah, until the whole spectrum of men are out here checking for us, I have an issue with women who can have anyone snatching the few options we have.”

  “I see a lot of white men with black women lately.”

  “Doesn’t change my experience, Ron. Or the experience of any of my friends.”

  Ron sighed. “How hard do I have to love you for you to get over this issue?”

  “You love me well
enough, Ron. But, I still have a gang of single sisters. It would be different if they didn’t want to be married. Look at Twila. She’s got it all, banging body, money, she’s beautiful . . .”

  “And crazy.”

  “Ron, why would you say that?”

  Ron sat next to Kimberly on the couch. “I’m sorry. Not crazy, but unstable at times. That whole thing with the Instagram dude . . .”

  Yes, the Marcus thing was crazy, but they’d made a sister pact to date the next man that asked them out. For Twila, it had been the insta-thot that cheated on her with one of the younger sorors. That wasn’t her fault, and that didn’t make her unstable.

  Twila wasn’t well, though, and it bothered Kimberly that no one was telling her what was going on with her. Did Hahna know something more than what she said? If she did, Kimberly would find out, because Hahna couldn’t hold water, much less a secret.

  “Let’s not change the subject of tonight’s narrative,” Kimberly said. “Twila and Marcus have nothing to do with your ex-wife coming to our engagement party showing her entire ass.”

  “I will talk to her.”

  “You’ll do no such thing. She owes me an apology, and I’m willing to speak with her. She doesn’t have anything to say to you.”

  “I mean, she owes the both of us an apology.”

  “She does, but because I don’t know what her intentions are towards you, she doesn’t need to have an audience with you.”

  “But she will have an audience with me about other things.”

  “What other things?”

  “Our children, Kimberly.”

  It was past time for them to have this conversation. The what-does-coparenting-look-like chat. They needed to be on one accord there, because Kimberly had a feeling that any break in their armor would give Sabrina hope or satisfaction or whatever it was that she needed when she came to the engagement party showing out.

  “I’ll be included in those conversations as well. She will have an audience with us about the twins.”

  “Only if she feels comfortable with that,” Ron said.

  Kimberly clenched her fists and stared straight ahead. She didn’t need her protector to feel like he had to protect the feelings of any other woman. Her needs were first. Had to be. Or she wasn’t going to be able to do this.