"Go finish undressing and get back here so you can eat."
Vivian eyes got big, her mouth poked out, her skinny arms drawn back as if she were going to launch herself at him. "Where—are—my—goddamn clothes!"
"At—the—goddamn—Goodwill! Where they're fuckin' gonna stay! I told you, I am not gonna have you parading around wearing that shit anymore! Not my goddamn woman! My fuckin' wife! Now get in here and eat!" he ordered back.
Vivian stood in the door, shaking her head, having another mild fit, snatched her phone off the wall bracket and stomped hard back into her room, slamming her door. With quick fingers, she dialed Sheila's number.
"Hello? Hurry up! We eatin' dinner, who is this?" Sheila answered with rapid-fire questions, standing from the table where her family sat around it, eating what she prepared for them.
"Uh…he…oh…I…oh please…uh…"
"Who the hell is this?" Sheila asked.
"She-Sheila…he-he-he…"
"You got the hiccups? Who is this?"
"He-he-he…my…my…c-come…come get me."
"Vivian? What's wrong with you?"
"He-he-he…"
"You got the hiccups? Hold your breath! Call me back when you get rid'of'em!"
"No! J-Jake…he-he-he…"
"Ohhh, shit!" Vivian heard her exclaim and then say to her husband, 'Ohhh, Dennis! They at it again!'
Who at it again?' she heard Dennis ask.
'Take a guess.
'That Jake and Vivian? What the hell wrong now?'
"Sheila! Talk to me, Sheila! He…he took my…my shit!"
"What shit?"
"My good shit!"
"What good shit?"
"My expensive-ass, good-ass, new-ass shit! Some of that shit still had tags on it! I ain'even get to wear the shit! He took my shit to Goodwill!"
"You talkin' about clothes?"
"Yes! You know how I am about my clothes! He took my nice-ass clothes to Good-will! His Neanderthal ass! Come and get me so I can go and find my clothes," Vivian pleaded, changing into gym pants and gym shoes, pulling a t-shirt on over her head.
"Girl, we eatin' dinner! Can't you wait?"
"Somebody gonna buy up all my shit!"
"Dai-amn! Ya'll gettin' on my nerve! I ain't lyin'; don't make no sense! What Goodwill he take'em to?"
"I don't know," Vivian whimpered.
"Well, you bes' find out! Shit, call me back in twenty minutes."
"We ain't got twenty mintues; they out there right now, fightin' over and buying my expensive-ass shit!" Vivian wailed in tears.
"Yo'ass need to move! Dai-amn! You better find out what Goodwill they at. I ain't running all over Chicago for no clothes!" she fussed, hearing Jake's voice in the background at Vivian's. "Who are you talking to?"
"Get out of my room! I'm talking to Sheila! I'm goin' and gettin' my clothes!"
"No, you're not! They're gone, that's it—it's over!"
"Those were my things!"
"Hey! Stop raising your voice, I'm not gonna have it! They're just clothes! Clothes you won't be wearing anymore!"
She turned her back on him. "Sheila come and get me," Vivian whined.
"Wait just a minute, dammit!" Jake blasted, charging from the room.
"Girl! I ain't gettin' in the middle of that now! That's between you and Jake."
"He's…he's a bully, Sheila!" Vivian cried.
The phone clicked, someone else was on the line. "Sheila? This is Jake."
"Oh, Lord Jesus!" Sheila shook her head, turned to her husband who was watching, and waved him with urgency to pick up another phone. Dennis rushed and did it.
"Get off the phone, Jake! I'm talking to Sheila!"
"I'll get off when I have my say—you don't tell me to get off the phone!"
The line clicked again.
"What the hell is going on over there?" Dennis asked.
"I called to talk to Sheila!" Vivian cried.
"Dennis! This is all bullshit! She's having a fit over some damn clothing!"
"What clothing?" Dennis asked.
"He went through my closet and got rid of all my stuff!"
"I did not get rid of all of it! Just all of that goddamn hookerwear!" Jake defended himself.
"I don't have no hookerwear!" She ran from her room to yell at him in the living room, still on the phone.
"Not now you don't! 'Cause I got rid of all that shit! And stop that damn shouting!"
"Vivian, you need to calm down." Sheila tried.
"I want my stuff back! Now what Goodwill you take'em to?" she asked Jake, still on the phone, looking at him.
"A Goodwill that sells shitty, tight-fitting, hookerwear! Dennis, she makes it out like I got rid of all of her clothing; I only tossed out the bullshit! That zebra assemble for one!"
"You got rid of that?" Dennis asked, laughing.
"Do you know how much that cost me?" Vivian cut in.
"Damn right I did, dress and the fuckin' boots that go with it!"
"You been in my shoes and boots, too? Lord Jesus, Jesus Lord!"
"Stop calling out to the Lord Jesus; if he were here, he'd be getting rid of it, too!" Jake growled into the phone.
"I'm not talking to you! Get off my phone and get out of my house!"
"Ohhh…your house? Your phone? Fine—I'm outta here! Dennis, I'm on my way!"
"Come on, man, come on…'cause ya'll need to calm down."
Jake hung up, stomped to the table, grabbed his hat, his keys and headed out the back door. Vivian followed, standing in the back door yelling at him, "Will you tell me which Goodwill?" Before he could get to the gate leading into the alley.
"No! Hell—No!"
"Ugggh! Sheila? What am I gonna do?"
"M'man say you ain't wearing that shit, that's that!" Dennis spoke up, still on the line.
"Do you mind, Dennis? I'm talkin' to Sheila!"
"I'on know what you talkin' to her fo'; she'on know where the Goodwill is." Then called out for her to hear, 'Come on in, man! She still on the phone crying…' He hung up.
"Jake here now," Sheila whispered to her.
"So I heard. Sheila, I can't take him no more! He just out of control! Wanna run everything!"
"Don't be talkin' crazy, you just need to calm down. You wanted him! Now you got'im, don't know what the hell to do with'im. I told you, tol' Sylvia, too; all the goddamn white men in the world to get, ya'll gone get them two. Brothers at that! Same thing, cut from the same goddamn cloth! One no better than the other, but I think you got the big one, girlfriend!"
"He driving me crazy! Sheila, everything…he want everything his way! He won't listen to reason! He wanna tell me what to do all the time! I take care of my damn self! Pay my own bills! My rent! Buy my clothes! An' he gone just walk up in here and toss my shit out! Oh no, no, no, no!"
"Well, what you gone do, Vivian?"
"Where you at? He ain't standing there listenin' to you, is he?"
"He in the basement with Dennis."
"An' Dennis! I'mo tell him about hisself! Just gone jump all on his side!"
"Look! You know they gone stick together. Ain't no sense in you wasting your breath. You might as well come on over here, too."
"Not as long as he there!"
"Girl, get your ass over here!" Sheila hung up the phone.
A moment later, Vivian walked in her kitchen door, face long and mean-looking. Wearing light blue jogging gear and jacket. Sheila was fixing a plate for Jake. "You want something to eat?"
"I ain't hungry! I want my clothes back!"
"I can feed you, but I can't do that," Sheila announced, heading for the basement with a plate of food. Vivian was behind her, feeling resentful. She envisioned taking that plate and tossing it right in his face. However, she knew better. He would retaliate, and she couldn't handle him. He was sitting on the sofa next to Dennis, who had his food in the basement as well. Sheila walked over and set it before him.
"Anything else?" she asked him.
> "Tell me where my clothes are, Jake!" Vivian butt in with a stomp.
"Don't come down here with that shit! We tryin' to eat! Hell, I don't like no shit going on around me when I'm tryin' to eat!" Dennis fussed.
"Thank you, Dennis." Jake picked up his fork, always looking forward to Sheila's dinners. "And thank you, Sheila, this is fine. I don't get no goddamn appreciation. Cleaned up her yard. Trimmed up the lawn and everything. Stripped down the window frames and cleaned her windows. Then cooked dinner."
"All that and cook dinner, too? Shit, I wud'nah done all that and cook dinner, too! What you cook?"
"Spaghetti and perfect meatballs. Garlic bread, bought a bunch of those different salads in a bag, mixed up a few fresh greens for her," he informed Dennis as they ate.
"Damn, that sound good. An' she ain't wanna eat it?"
"Psh! Didn't even look! Having a fit over clothing. Dennis, one piece of…whatever the hell that was, look like it would be just snug on my leg if I sprang my knee…and that was supposed to cover her whole body? I don't think so!" Jake filled his mouth again.
Vivian was standing in the middle of the floor, arms crossed, foot tapping, mad, and wanting to know the answer to that question.
"Jake."
"I'm eating."
"That is not fair! You don't just go through people's things! Take out of them what you don't like and get rid of it!"
"I didn't go through people's things, I went through yours."
"I resent that! That's my house! I pay for that house! I pay for my clothes and you not gonna be telling me—"
Jake shot to his feet, fork in hand and pointing at her, gruff and growling stated loud and clear, "That's the reason right there, that I will not be moving here to live with you! Letting you support me through school! No way! You think you're gonna be beating me over the head with that every chance you get? You wanna be the man in this relationship! You wanna call the shots! You wanna tell me what I need to do, but I can't tell you what you need to do!" He sat back and ate some more. Dennis sat, shaking his head trying to eat.
"You didn't tell me! You just did it! You just took my stuff and got rid of it! You didn't even give me a chance to make that decision for myself! Who do you think you are?"
"Careful what you say!" Dennis warned, hearing it on the way to going too far.
Jake looked up, livid. "Who do I think I am? I think I'm the man that you wanted! Your problem is, I'm not some little weak-ass, marble-balled wuss you can order around and call the shots on! I'm the man in this relationship—that's who the goddamn hell I am!"
"More like the bully in it!"
"Careful! I'm telling ya'll…don't go too far! Once said, can't take it back," Dennis warned again.
"I have never bullied you around! But I'll be damned if you're gonna henpeck me! When you finally face the way it's going to be, I'll stop hammering the top point here, which is, I'm the one calling the shots! Not you! Once you come to terms with what I bring in to support you—"
"Which ain't gone be much! I'll be damned if you gone reduce me to some common trailer trash!"
Jake looked up with his face burning.
"I knew it…I knew it. Gone too far." Dennis shook his head.
Sheila couldn't cover her mouth fast enough to block the loud gasp that escaped.
Vivian bit her lip, dread washing over her as she watched him come to his feet. He stood a moment quiet, staring at her, unable to ignore the punch to the gut, the hit below the belt. Jake picked up his hat. "If you all will excuse me," he said to Sheila and Dennis, walking by Vivian standing there, he murmured, "Sad, because I think you would have fit right in, since you dress like it…common trailer trash, that is."
Vivian sucked in as if he'd slapped her. He was heading for the stairs, she turned with tears in her eyes and shot back, "Well, there you go! I'm not good enough for you and you not good enough for me! Here, this is yours; use it to buy yourself a new trailer!" She snatched her ring off and tossed it at him. Jake had been turned on the stairs looking back at her, and caught the ring center-palm.
"Vivian!" Sheila shouted at her.
Jake stood a moment more staring at her, he opened his hand to look at her ring. Exhaling, biting his tongue, he turned and left.
Vivian stood in the middle of Dennis and Sheila's basement, breathing hard. Her chest growing tighter and tighter as the gravity of what was said between them replayed in her mind. Her thumb rubbed the spot on the back of her finger where just seconds ago her ring had been. She was starting to feel sick. Suddenly, her breathing was hampered as she heard their upstairs door close.
"Go after him, Vivian!" Sheila snapped.
"No! We…we wouldna made it anyway. I'm not gonna be kissing his ass! I ran after him once, I'm not making a habit of that." She was standing her ground, even though her chest squeezed a bit tighter, starting to make it hard to get her next breath, as the nail of her thumb continued to rub the vacant spot where her beautiful, very expensive, engagement ring had just been. Her face felt on fire, she straightened her back, squared her shoulders standing tall in what she felt was her well-earned rights.
"Ya'll done put me off my food; give me heartburn and shit!" Dennis pushed his plate away. "I'mo tell you something right now, Vivian, I'on give a shit if you don't wanna hear it. Grow your ass up!"
"Excuse me! I'm not the one wrong here! He is! He shouldn't have gone through my things, he shouldn't have taken them and gotten rid of them!"
"Hey! Maybe not, okay? Maybe he did go a bit too far in that…maybe. Either way, fact of the matter is this…he didn't get rid of anything you needed! What the hell you need to wear stuff like that for anyway? Why you need that kind of attention so goddamn bad? All my man want you to do is dress like a lady. Like he wanna see his woman."
"No! That has nothing to do with it, he don't want nobody else looking at me!"
"And that's wrong? What the fuck kind of man you want? I know, a rich man that'll let you dress how you want, whether you needin' to dress that way or not! You need to find you a goddamn rapper! That's what you need. They love to flaunt they women like trophies and shit; that's what you need to hook up with, goddamn gangster rapper. That way he'll put you in his videos, show you off like a vacant, brainless, piece of shapely ass."
"Thank you, very much, Dennis! You make it sound like my clothes are cheap! Trashy!"
"Not all of'em! Some of the stuff you wear…right on the money sharp! You look like the personification of black class and style. Lord, but then the night comes…nigga gotta dress up, only to dress down! Some of the stuff I seen you in, you ain't got no business wearing that shit, that's just showing off."
"Ach!" Vivian gasped and then turned to Sheila. "You've seen most of my clothes, are any of my clothes inappropriate?" she asked for back up.
Sheila stood hesitating. "You want me to lie to you, or you want the truth?"
"Ach! So you think my clothes are trashy, too?"
"Uhhh, some of them, yeah…they are. You beautiful, Vivian. You have a perfect figure. There are women who would do anything to be made up the way you are. When you dress for work, or just casual, you make me so proud. I be thinking, damn, look at my girl! But when you go out, all of a sudden, you think you have to accentuate and expose all that's right about you, as if to rub it in everyone else's face. Look at me, I'm Vivian—watch me strut my stuff. That is so contradictory to the day you, when you look your best," Sheila told her honestly, for once, speaking mildly to her. She knew her, she could read Vivian like a book. She was already hurting, wishing she hadn't gone this far, but pride was forcing her to try and save face.
Vivian stood with her arms crossed over her chest, feeling ganged up on. Fighting back tears, she snapped, "Obviously you're on their side, too, so I'll just take my ho-ish ass home!" she cried out.
"Nobody said you was ho-ish, Vivian! I know you not! However, you mean to tell me, your clothes mean more to you than that man you swore up and down to God above you love more than lif
e itself? You corrected this matter all wrong, girlfriend. Stand your ground, but do it right. Be mad, but hey, that's someone you're supposedly wanting to spend the rest of your life with. You know him, Vivian. Look at his brother, look at Shawn. They are the kind of man that are men! They won't back down, they don't change. Since the beginning of time, the woman has always been the one that has had to back down, shut up, and figure another way to get her way. Who are you, Vivian, that it should be any different for you? Let's be real here, if you don't learn to bite that tongue sometimes, whether you right or wrong…and hey, if I can bite mine—you know me! If I can bite mine, dammit, you can learn to do the same. You need to stop thinking everything is just about you; learn to try and be calm and deal with your man in a way that leaves him with his dignity, or else, my sista you ain't never gonna have one. You can get a male anywhere, there are plenty of them, but you'll never get a real man—because your mouth and your need to always be right—is gonna drive all the good ones away. Only ones left after that are just the ones looking to hit it a few times and then be on their way, never to return."
"Leave me alone!" She threw her hands up, not wanting to hear the rest of what Sheila was saying. She made her way up their stairs. Past the boys eating at the table, looking from each other to her. Silent, she was out the door and back through the alley. It was starting to get dark. Her stomach hurt. She walked slowly through her back gate, praying that he hadn't left. Her mind replaying the scene of a few moments ago, over and over. With heavy limbs, she made it into her house. It was quiet. On her kitchen table was the meal he'd prepared. She bit into her thumb nail nervous and confused. She sniffed and wiped her face, clearing tears that she let fall once she left Dennis and Sheila. Walking into the dining room, then the living room, she continued to sniff, feeling sick from the evidence of his hat missing. She walked slowly into her bedroom; his bag was gone. Yet, there sat the antique vanity, gleaming, polished, top quality, fit for a queen. She couldn't stand to look at it and left her room heading for the living room. There she climbed on a chair that sat at the window; one knee up, she leaned forward, parting her curtains, looking outside for his truck. It was gone. She leaned on the chair and stared vacantly out of her clean windows.
BOMAW 7-9 Page 112
