He's Just A Friend

by Mary B. Morrison

  Fancy blinked several times. The woman trotting toward Fancy’s car was smaller than her. Fancy got out the car and said, “Tanya? Girl, what have you done? You’ve lost so much weight. You look good.”

  “I wish I felt as good as I look. I’m stressed. I begged my supervisor for one hour so I have to be back by nine-thirty. The late holiday shoppers are crazy, girl. Look at these parking lots.” Tanya pointed to Expo Design, Toys ‘R’ Us, Best Buy, and Pet Club. “Fancy, where did you get the new attitude? Since when did you start caring about me? Must be the holiday spirit.” Tanya laughed.

  “Oh, no, this is not about me. I am concerned about you.” Fancy let down the windows.

  “I don’t know. I love William. And he doesn’t hit me or anything but he yells a lot since he lost his job. He acts like it’s my fault. Every bad thing that happens to him is my fault.”

  “When did he lose his job?” Fancy asked, stretching her arm out the window, motioning to the driver behind her that she wasn’t leaving her parking space.

  “Almost six months ago. Around the time I stopped calling.”

  “Girl, you stopped calling way before the summer. More like late winter early spring.”

  “I don’t know what to do, Fancy.” Tanya’s eyes drooped and her head hung low. “I feel trapped. William talks crazy whenever I say I’m leaving. He says stuff like, ‘You can’t leave me. You’re stuck with me for life.’ ”

  Stuck? “Honey, Silly Putty doesn’t stick forever. Nothing does.” Fancy noticed Tanya didn’t crack a smile so she said, “Well, if you ever need a place to stay, you’re welcome at my home anytime.” Fancy hugged Tanya.

  “Thanks. I’ll work something out,” Tanya said, picking at her fingernails.

  “If you don’t have your own savings, girl, start stashing money on the side. Never let William know how much you make or how much you save.”

  “Thanks. I gotta get back to work.” Tanya closed the car door and trotted back across the street.

  Fancy drove home, showered, and headed over to Desmond’s house. He wasn’t home so she drove to his job. Desmond was in his blue cover-ups leaning over his Mustang.

  “What’s the matter with your car?” Fancy stood a few feet away.

  “Hey, surprise seeing you here. I thought you weren’t speaking to me.”

  “How could I not speak to my best friend?” Fancy said, opening her purse. She reached inside and pulled out a sealed card. “Here, I just stopped by to give you this.”

  “You, give me something. Whoa.” Desmond wiped his hands on his cover-ups.

  “You can open it later. How’s school?”

  Desmond’s lips curved wide and long. “I haven’t started yet.”

  “Where’d you decide to go?”

  “Georgia. Going back home. Moving after the holidays.”

  Fancy felt sad for not supporting Desmond’s dream. “I’m happy for you.” Fancy paused then said, “I gotta go. Call me whenever you have a moment.”

  “Wait, don’t leave. I can take an early lunch. You wanna do lunch?” Desmond’s walnut eyes were warm and sparkling.

  “I’m having lunch with my mother today.”

  “For real. That’s great!” Desmond hugged Fancy, lifting her off her feet.

  “Man, put me down.”

  “No way,” Desmond said, swinging her around. He held her close and Fancy started to cry because she never realized how simple things meant so much to some folk. Desmond eventually placed her on her feet and said, “Let me open my card. I can’t wait until Christmas.”

  When Desmond opened his card, a check for six thousand dollars fell out. “Whoa, are you serious? You—are paying—me back.”

  “Yeah, I figured you might need your money for your wedding.”

  Desmond didn’t respond. He read the Maya Angelou friendship card, then hugged Fancy again. “Girl, I love you! Whoa! This is great!”

  Gently pushing away Fancy said, “I love you, Dez,” and walked away.

  Fancy cried all the way home but this time she felt good inside. Fancy raced inside, showered, dressed, and got back in her car all within an hour so she wouldn’t be late picking up Caroline.

  Caroline was standing in the doorway waiting when Fancy parked in front of the house. Fancy looked at the blue house and froze. Her body wouldn’t move. Haunting memories, things she’d never told Mandy or anyone else resurfaced. Fancy saw herself as a little girl on hands and knees as she scrubbed each step every Saturday until they shone. Now the steps were dusty. The bright blue paint was dim.

  Caroline motioned to Fancy. “Come in.”

  Slowly Fancy placed her feet on the street’s black asphalt and stood. The curtain-style skirt with ruffled trimming swayed in synch with her hips as Fancy floated up the dirty stairs to Caroline’s door.

  “Hey, baby. I’m so happy to see you. Come in for a minute. I’m almost ready.”

  When Fancy crossed the threshold her eyeballs traveled left without assistance from her head. Her old chubby elementary pictures still hung on the wall. The étagère with its numerous whatnots were blanketed in dust, but never when she lived with Caroline. Fancy stared at the blue couch. Her temples throbbed and her head ached.

  “Fancy, come here, baby. Mama needs your help.”

  Fancy ran out the house. The metal screen door slammed behind her. She hated Caroline all over again. Fancy jumped in her car and started the engine.

  “Wait, where are you going!” Caroline yelled from the doorway.

  Fancy shifted into drive and sped down Seventh Street, turned onto Market, hopped on the freeway for about two miles, exited at Harrison Street, and drove home. When she dashed into the lobby the mailman handed her her mail. Fancy slowed down.

  “Merry Christmas, Miss Taylor.”

  “Thanks.” Waiting for the elevator, Fancy thumbed through the pile, counting the cards. The twenty-sixth envelope was from Byron. Entering her apartment Fancy tossed the entire stack in the trash. All except one made it across the rim. She picked it up and carried it to her bed. It was Byron’s card.

  Fancy sighed heavily. She inserted her finger and ripped along the edges. A letter and three more envelopes were enclosed.

  Fancy,

  My accountant forwarded your checks to the wrong address. Merry Christmas.

  Byron

  P. S. I apologize. Your car is sitting in my garage collecting dust. If you want it, let me know before New Year’s Eve. Otherwise, I’ll donate it to charity. I’d love to take you to the gala this year. I love you, Fancy. Call me.

  Each envelope was stamped “Return, Undeliverable Address.” The street name was misspelled on each envelope. Fancy opened the first envelope. Her eyes widened when she saw a check for twenty-five thousand dollars. The second check was for thirty-five thousand, and the third was forty grand.

  “Yipee!” Fancy danced. She sat on the sofa and scrolled the Bs in her cellular phone book. “Aw, damn.” She’d deleted each of Byron’s numbers and her detailed statement wasn’t due until the middle of next month. “Damn!”

  Fancy still needed to do something nice for one more person. Using her cordless phone, she dialed SaVoy’s number.

  “Hey, SaVoy. This is Fancy. If you still want me in your wedding, I’d be honored.”

  “Oh, bless you. Yes, I do want my best friend in my wedding.”

  “I love you, SaVoy.”

  “I love you too, Fancy. You wanna go to church with us this New Year’s?”

  “Thanks. But I already have plans. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

  Fancy browsed through her last month’s statement, found Byron’s numbers, and reentered them into her phone. He didn’t answer his cell phone so Fancy left a message accepting both of Byron’s offers.

  CHAPTER 38

  New Year’s Eve. Fancy sighed heavily. She gazed out the patio window at the stars. Big dipper. Little dipper. A mirage? Fancy fell onto her bed in tears and couldn’t stop crying. The eve before her twenty-third b
irthday—an entire year had passed—and she still hadn’t found the right man.

  Each relationship with her best friends, Desmond, Tanya, and SaVoy, had changed. The most important man in Fancy’s life was moving to the other side of the country. Atlanta, Georgia, was over three thousand miles away. William had isolated Tanya. And Fancy couldn’t blame SaVoy for marrying Tyronne. Tyronne was a good man and Fancy believed, even though SaVoy and Tyronne were opposites, they were meant for one another.

  Ruffling her down-feather comforter, Fancy scurried across her king-size bed in search of her ringing phone. One more ring and her voice mail would turn on. SaVoy’s name registered on the display so Fancy quickly answered, “Hey, girl! What’s up?”

  “Just called to see what you’re doing tonight.” As usual, SaVoy sounded happy. Fancy could picture her best friend’s bright smile.

  “Going out. To a gala at the Ritz. No, I’m not going to church, so don’t ask. Say a prayer for me and call me tomorrow. After three.”

  Fancy was happy and sad. Would some other woman flirt with Byron while she was on his arm tonight? Should she go out with Byron? Fancy insisted on meeting him at the gala because she was not going to be the same fool twice. Was she?

  Dressed in a stunning designer turquoise gown, Fancy grabbed her shawl and went to the basement garage. Now she owned two cars. Fancy jiggled her keys and decided to drive the car Desmond gave her.

  Mints. Mints. Stop at the store. No, go to the gala. It’s early. Go to the store and get some mints.

  Strolling inside the drugstore, Fancy purchased a small tin of breath mints. She cruised down MacArthur Boulevard.

  “Damn, why aren’t these lights synchronized?”

  A light drizzle sprinkled across her windshield. At each light the raindrops splashed harder. Thicker. A few moments later, the downpour obscured her view. Fancy drove five miles an hour toward the Bay Bridge. The rain poured harder. A loud screeching noise pierced her ears. Fancy quickly pulled over and cupped her hands to her head. When the noise stopped Fancy noticed smoke rising from her hood.

  “Shit! Why tonight? Dammit.”

  Not the timing belt, she thought. Couldn’t be. Not again. Desmond had to have remembered to change it before he gave her back the car. The gas station across the street was closed. Every passing car stopped for the red light, then kept going. The only place in sight was the last place Fancy wanted to be on New Year’s Eve. Church. SaVoy’s church.

  Fancy stood in the rain, then got back in her car. Her dress was soaked. Hair ruined. As she contemplated, the rain poured harder.

  “I have no choice.” Fancy raced across the street. Her shoes splashed in the puddles. Once inside she couldn’t believe how many people were at church on New Year’s Eve. Didn’t they have a life?

  A man seated in a folding chair next to the last pew motioned for Fancy to take his seat. Couldn’t he see she was soaked and out of place? And as soon as the rain subsided she would go. Fancy tiptoed, then squatted on the edge of the seat, trying not to soak the cushion.

  “Thanks,” Fancy whispered.

  When she bowed her head toward her lap, the person seated to her right handed Fancy a monogrammed handkerchief with the initials DL engraved in small gold letters. Fancy first noticed the locks, then Darius. Oh, shit.

  Fancy whispered, “Thanks.”

  Although she heard the choir, Fancy focused on Darius. Why was Darius crying? Fancy reached for his hand. Darius immediately pulled away.

  “Excuse me,” Darius said, stepping over her wet feet.

  Where was he going? Fancy quietly sniffed her clothes. No, that wasn’t it.

  Damn! Shoot! How could she follow him without being obvious? Fancy stood with the congregation. Sat. Then stood again. She noticed SaVoy and Tyronne. Tanya. Fancy’s eyes roamed the surrounding pews.

  SaVoy nodded and then smiled, acknowledging Fancy as if she were expecting her. Dez! There was Desmond. Fancy looked to his left. Carlita. They looked like the happy odd couple.

  “Excuse me,” Darius said, stepping over Fancy again to take his seat. His eyes were drier.

  Fancy glanced at the preacher and bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. His hair was shaped like a miniature Don King afro. Fancy frowned when the pastor began humming instead of singing.

  After the song, Pastor Tellings preached, “Call if you will, but who will answer you? . . . Darkness comes upon them in the daytime . . . Blessed is the man whom God corrects . . . We have examined this, and it is true. So hear it and apply it to yourself. This is from the book of Job. From henceforth know that you cannot outthink, outsmart, con, nor get over on God. Resentment kills a fool, and envy slays the simple. Don’t be simple. Don’t be foolish . . . Let us pray.”

  When Darius wrapped his hand around Fancy’s, Fancy felt an instant connection. She was embarrassed because she didn’t know how to pray or what to say to God, so she remained silent inside, waiting for everyone else to finish. Then she heard Darius whisper, “Lord, thank you for blessing this queen and bringing her home. If she has any burdens, Lord, I ask that you remove them from her heart . . .” Then he prayed for Ma Dear. He must have missed her a lot. Then he prayed for Ashlee, Maxine, and his brothers. And fathers? Wellington and Darryl. He prayed for his mother. She was the only one he didn’t call by name. Fancy wasn’t sure Darius was conscious that he spoke aloud. But other people mumbled too. Fancy remained silent and said a special prayer for Caroline. Darius broke her concentration concluding with “Amen” so Fancy said, “Amen.”

  Fancy was elated when church ended. She blocked Darius’s exit, extended her hand, and said, “Hi, I’m Fancy Taylor. Remember me?”

  “Pleased to meet you. I’m Darius. Darius Jones.”

  Fancy frowned, then straightened her eyebrows. Was this the same arrogant guy she’d met or a clone? “Why the initials DL?”

  “The DL is for Darius’s Law. That’s how I’m living. I make the rules. I don’t follow them.”

  Fancy smiled, then frowned as SaVoy, Tyronne, Desmond, Carlita, and Tanya invaded their space.

  SaVoy smiled wide and bright, then said, “We’re going to my house for appetizers and socializing, you guys care to join us?”

  Before Darius could respond Fancy replied, “I can’t. My car just broke down outside.”

  Desmond extended his hand to Fancy. “Give me your keys. I’ll pick your car up tomorrow.”

  “Looks like you need a ride, young lady. I can handle that for you if you can trust me,” Darius said.

  Fancy’s night was just getting started. “Sure. Thanks.”

  SaVoy raised her eyebrows twice. No, she was not telling Fancy not to sleep with Darius. This was a new year and one of the wealthiest men in Oakland was by Fancy’s side.

  Darius flipped open his cell phone, then pressed his speaker button. “I’m ready.” He hung up and said, “If you’re rolling with me, let’s go.”

  “Not so fast, mister,” SaVoy said. “Tell your mother I said hello.”

  “Ready?” Darius asked, still ignoring SaVoy.

  What was that all about? Fancy thought.

  Fancy walked out with Darius. The driver opened the door to a black stretch limousine.

  Fancy smiled and waved good-bye to her friends. Desmond turned toward Carlita, holding Carlita’s arm tighter.

  “My place or yours?” Darius asked.

  Fancy smiled and replied, “Mine.”

  After Darius dropped her off, Fancy reflected upon her last year’s resolutions. Her New Year’s resolution, to find the right man: tall, rich, and handsome, was the same. Darius was definitely Fancy’s type. But unlike his predecessors Fancy would take her time and get to know him.

  Fancy stood on her balcony. SaVoy had told her it was never too late to call upon the Lord. So this year, for the first time in over ten years, she prayed. Fancy thanked God for her mother and promised to stop calling her Caroline. Fancy thanked God for making her complete, realizing everything she needed she a
lready had. And Fancy prayed for God to give back her friend. And if for any reason Desmond should be out of Fancy’s life, Fancy promised God that she’d never refer to Desmond Brown by saying, “He’s just a friend.”

  Who knew? Maybe God had blessed Fancy with a new friend, Darius Jones.

  EXPECTATIONS

  We expect

  Someone driving on the freeway

  In front of us

  To keep the same pace

  So that we may keep the same pace

  Or we expect them to get the hell out of our way

  But they don’t do

  Even though

  they don’t

  have a clue

  We expect strangers to give us

  Three feet of space

  And not be in our face

  Listening to what we are saying

  Although they may not be paying

  They may be praying

  Because their loved one is dead

  And they don’t even notice

  We are alive

  But we expect them to do

  Even though they don’t have a clue

  We expect our spouses to do

  What we want them to do

  Even though they sometimes don’t have a clue

  What if they

  Were you

  We expect our children not to make

  The same mistakes

  We’ve made

  Because we’ve paved

  Their way

  They should not stumble

  Nor fall

  Yet we cannot remember

  Yet we cannot forget

  We too