“Get in here with me,” he said around a smile as he massaged his scalp.
“You want some shampoo? What are you doing, co-washing?” she joked. From the linen closet, she removed a half empty bottle of Pantene.
“What’s co-washing?” he asked as he turned from side to side, continuing his routine. “It sounds like something people do when two people or more wash someone’s hair at the same time.”
“Sean, no!” She chuckled. “Co-washing is when you use only conditioner to wash your hair at various times. It is less drying for African American hair.”
“Ahhh, okay.” He nodded.
She stepped inside of the shower with him, handed him the bottle of shampoo, then reached for a small bottle of mango-melon scented body wash. As she began to lather up, she felt a strong grip on her, pulling her. The shower water suddenly stopped, and she found herself on her knees, on all fours.
“Ahhh!”
She gripped the edge of the tub as he mounted her from behind, elated and shocked all at once.
“Uhhh! Uhhhh!”
Without ceremony, he thrust inside her, taking her, making her body rock with pleasure. Wrapping his arm around her, he cupped her shoulder and forced her to take all of his dick. She screamed out, over and over.
“Ahhh! Sean! Shit!”
“Why don’t you co-wash this cock with your pussy juice?! Uhhhh!”
She writhed about, drifting on the verge of an orgasm that refused to relinquish it’s hold upon her. Her pleasure climbed and climbed up an invisible mountain, almost bursting like fireworks. Swift, sudden…ruthless.
“Ahhhhhhh!” Her eyes watered as she screamed out, her temple shaking in uncontrollable ways.
She’d never cum that fast before in her life. It happened so suddenly, taking her by surprise, and his words turned her the hell on. Yet the man kept on relentless after her orgasm, continued to slam into her ass. She observed his warped reflection in the bathtub fixtures, dazed…mesmerized.
“Mmmm, yessss!”
Soon, he shot within her, once again filling her with his heated delight. In no time flat, he was back on his feet and restarted the water. He took the shampoo and went to town on his tresses, even humming a song or two.
“Sean,” she said sternly, running her hand along her slightly swollen pussy lips…
Damn, it hurt so good…
“Yeah?”
“How the hell are you going to get me on the ground in the shower, have sex with me, then go on about your night as if nothing happened?” She chuckled. “Your ass is crazy.”
“But was it good?” He grinned as he closed his eyes and lathered up.
“You know that it was…”
“Then stop your hollering and hand me some soap.”
“You don’t want this, it’s mango and…” she looked at the bottle once more to jog her memory, “…mango-melon.”
“I don’t give uh shit! I’m going to be sleeping with you tonight. It’s not like my masculinity is in question. Besides, that shit smells good!” He snatched the bottle out of her grip, eliciting a burst of laughter and a playful slap against his wet back.
“Ahhh! That hurt!” he screamed out, really laying it on thick.
“Deal with it.” She then pinched his tight, nice ass, startling him.
“You just treat me like a piece of meat!” He pretended to sob, bursting in tears. “You’re just using me for my body! I feel so dirty!”
Laughing, she ushered him out of the way, wanting to get the water all over her skin before sudsing up, gathering a good lather. A few seconds later, they were singing a duet. Sean held his bottle of shampoo and she held the mango-melon soap as makeshift microphones while they crooned an off-key version of House of Pain’s, ‘Jump Around.’
“…I came to get down! I came to get down! So get out cha seats and jump around! JUMP! JUMP! JUMP!”
Silly couple that they were, they jumped up and down in the air, causing the water to splash about and under their leaping feet. Her heart was singing! Her soul was singing, and her body felt oh so grateful!
So good to laugh, cry, make love…to feel protected all at once. The man took her away from her broken heart, made the shit right. She loved him more and more as each minute passed, and her heart swelled with pride, knowing that he was her man, and she could trust him, depend on him.
She was fresh.
She was clean…
Clean…
C – Clear… she could think so clearly now.
L – Living… She was living the life she deserved!
E – Energized… No more restlessness; it was time to embrace life to the fullest, the hell with what everyone else said.
A – Adored… The man would move mountains for her, pick them up and knock those rocky bastards right out of her way.
N – New… A new day, a new beginning…
…A new Treasure was found within…
‡
Chapter Twenty
Dear Mama…
Treasure sat at her computer and looked at those two words on the screen. She’d sat down to draft a letter and mail it to the woman. Still in the formulation process, she took countless pauses and many gulps of wine to prepare her for the proceedings. Yes, proceedings. It was that sort of farewell party. Over the last few days, she’d had a chance to truly sit down and contemplate her choices.
Choices. Those little and big things we make that affect our life forever…
Sliding one leg under her behind on the chair, she tapped against the keyboard, a sense of purpose about her and a brave heart beating within her chest.
Dear Mama,
Over the course of our lives, I have come to the realization that almost everything in our relationship that was problematic, from my adulthood forward, was my fault. You see, I never accepted you for who and what you were. That wasn’t your fault; it was mine. I attempted to make dead grass grow.
Strived for bread without yeast to rise…
Willed clouds that were full of rain to not storm down upon me…
That’s the thing about rain clouds, Mama. They are just doing as they were designed to do. Their intention is non-existent, for storm clouds do not make choices, but their gushing affects everyone that they fall upon. One thing about rain clouds though is that they do have a positive purpose, too. They water the Earth, feed the sea and help take care of thirst for the world’s people. Your rain, however, is acidic, and no amount of filtering, hoping, and praying will make it any less bearable. I had to divorce Jackson for many reasons, but it all stemmed from a lack of trust that could never be recovered. Unfortunately, I have to do the same with you. Mama, this is our divorce decree.
This last situation with you let me know without a shadow of a doubt that it was time to cut you loose. I understand now that I can love you without subjecting myself to your continuous abuse. Yes, Mama, you are an abuser. You abuse the people that love you, and covet the people that hate you. I am finished trying to understand your mentality, but one thing remained consistent with you—your need to hurt others. I can’t be your punching bag any longer. I will not sustain one more blow from you. The problem is that I stood in your way, and allowed you to beat the daylights out of me with your harsh, cruel words. I’m not certain why you named me Treasure, Mama. You don’t treasure me.
You don’t treasure anyone. I grew up hating my name because it was unusual, and I wanted a name that helped me blend in with the crowd. Now, I love my name and don’t need anyone else to validate me. I treasure my OWN self. I nurture my OWN self, regardless of who is around.
Speaking of who is around, I see that Jackson made you aware that I am in a relationship. Once again, you had no issue doing his dirty work. I know why now, Mama, because Jackson is a source of pain for me, and you reap emotional benefits from me hurting. Well, I hate to disappoint you, but your actions didn’t hurt me, Mama. They only helped me see what needed to be done.
The things you said to my boyfriend on the p
hone prove once again that you have little respect for anyone, and you simply desire to tear people down. It was cruel, racist and plain ugly. I have neither room nor time for any more ugliness in my life, Mama. The world is full of ugliness. You can turn on the television and see it on a daily basis. I am quite busy. I am raising two children—your grandchildren, who you barely acknowledge. I have a demanding profession and other obligations that you know nothing about. You may have time for this foolishness, but I certainly do not.
My desire for you, Mama, is to use this free time you seem to have an ample supply of, and take a look at yourself. It’s never too late. But it is too late for me to stand there and try to help you through the process. I’m checking out, leaving the boxing ring. You’ve punched me so hard this last time, you must’ve set me straight, knocked some sense into me, brought me back into the reality of the situation. I never struck you back, neither literally nor figuratively, but I must strike back now Mama, I must defend myself for my own sanity and dignity.
So to you, I say goodbye. You won’t hear from me, and I will not be stopping by any more. Mama, you will always have a daughter that loves you; you just will not have one that is actively a part of your life. You’ve made a choice, and now I’ve made mine.
You take care.
Love,
Treasure
*
“They’re little pieces of tofu!” the older man barked at his wife, as if she’d insulted his intelligence, as if she should simply know what the hell the little cream-colored squares were that floated atop her soup like tiny life preserver jackets. Ma rarely ate Asian food, unless it was fried rice from the freezer section of Fairway. Most of the fare wasn’t her cup of tea. Regardless, she’d agreed to it on an exuberant chuckle, willing to go almost anywhere to meet this new lady in her son’s life. Before he could finish extending the verbal invitation he’d set before her not too long ago, she’d promptly accepted it on behalf of her and her father. And now, the day had finally arrived.
They all sat huddled at the bantam table in the Gu Shine Taiwanese restaurant in Flushing, Queens. It sucked that Colin had been called in to work at the last damn minute; now absent was his much-needed buffer from a trouble-causing pair better known as their parents. The brothers helped each other out when it came to the dastardly duo in times like these. They ran interference, giving each other a helping hand, but God must’ve been bored and needed a bit of entertainment at Sean’s expense, or possibly pulled a cruel joke when Colin was told to bring his ass into work at the final hour… all because of some old broad with her Depends diaper being twisted in a bunch!
Apparently, a fire had spread like the common cold virus in a Brooklyn apartment building across town. The damn thing had been ignited by an old lady who showed no remorse whatsoever after she re-told the story to the police and fire fighters alike, despite the now dislocated tenants who stood outside the place talking to the news crew and exclaiming that their family heirlooms were in jeopardy.
The angry, elderly siren had set her husband’s little rubber shoes ablaze after accusing the ninety-year-old fellow of infidelity with the lady across the hall. Ostensibly, he’d bragged about the vivacious senior vixen’s freshly baked bread one time too many and lived to pay the dire consequences, causing flames to ascend the high-rise like dough in an oven.
So that was that…
Yet, despite Colin’s unexpected absenteeism, the evening was a much anticipated, special occasion that he’d been looking forward to, and nothing could damper his mood for long. It was time for Treasure to meet Ma and Dad. She had to work late, but promised to swing by as soon as her clients left. It was a new couple, the easiest sort, who had specifically requested her services after returning from a house-hunting trip. They needed to stage their own home for a quick sale, and time seemed to be of the essence. On a sigh, he slammed the food-stained menu on the table and looked around the hole in the wall, trying to find the Chinese cat that tick-tocked the time, its yellow wooden tail swaying from side to side like a therapeutic hypnosis tool… 7:42.
Damn it. She was supposed to be here over thirty minutes ago…
“Just get the hot peppers over rice!”
“Dad, why are you so loud? No need to yell.” Sean looked around the place. He wasn’t embarrassed in truth, but his damn nerves were rattled like a saltshaker.
“I’m not yelling! I’ll show ya yelling! This is just talkin’ loudly. It isn’t my fault; she can’t hear me!” The man’s bunchy brows dipped, as if he were insulted by his son bringing his tone and volume to his attention. “And where is this lady of yours?” He grabbed his cup of hot tea and took a delicate sip, completely contradicting his hunched over, angry demeanor.
Dad must be refined now… stick out your pinky finger and wear a fancy hat.
“We’re gonna order our entrees. It’s gettin’ late,” his father said with a huff.
“Kevin, you ate right before we left the house. You can wait another minute or two.” Ma rolled her eyes at him, then squinted down at her menu, as if it were written backwards. “What’s this chicken thing?” She pointed down at the selection, like her faintly descriptive mention of the dish would prove enough to jog his memory.
“Ma,” Sean said lazily. “Play it safe and get the beef with hot peppers like Dad said. You don’t want to go being adventurous here.”
“Stinky tofu?” Her nose wrinkled as she continued to peruse the options, ignoring his urgings.
“Why would anyone order something the menu says is stinky?!” She pointed at the spot on the menu where the aberrant sustenance was described. “Taiwanese people have noses just like we do! I wish I had a frozen Michelina dinner right now.” She sighed, as if a great culinary weight had settled on her pink and yellow plaid jacket covered shoulders.
“Yeah, because six month old frozen macaroni from the grocery store for ninety-nine cents is tha stuff edible dreams are made of.” Sean grimaced, then threw his head back and downed half of his iced water, wishing it were something strong and coma inducing.
“They got oyster pancakes…” his father murmured, pointing to a large white platter coming out to another table. “And why is it so goddamn dark in here?” He looked around the place in fast, jerky motions, as if suddenly aware of his surroundings. “What are they tryna hide?!”
“Probably roaches.” His mother nodded matter-of-factly, as if she’d studied the subject extensively.
“Ma, don’t start.” Sean sat back in his seat and watched the woman push her half-eaten soup away.
“It’s true! Speaking of which, some cultures eat bugs, Sean. I heard they were full of protein. I saw it on T.V.”
“You and Dad and the damn television!” He slapped the table. “I’ve never known of two people who worked their fingers to the bone, retired, and then turned into vegetables as bad as the two of you! All you do is watch that tube!”
“You like to fight other men and get paid for it. We like to watch the tube! To each his own.” His mother chuckled as she spread out her napkin across her lap just so, real dainty like.
“Oh, here she is!” Spotting his lovely sweetheart, Sean hopped up from his seat as if he’d been sprung from a bungee cord, and waved her over to the mouth of the Devil, better known as the back of the joint where the nearby sweltering kitchen pumped heat out of a fiery blowhole. As he took in the sight of her, he curved his lips in appreciation.
Beautiful as always…
His parents immediately looked where he pointed, and he turned away from Treasure to see his mother’s mouth curl in a cutesy grin, crimped at the ends just so. He took a gander at his dad to discover the man’s expression turn rather perplexed. He wore a slightly crooked smile, paired with an odd sense of trepidation from the way his damn eyes widened. But, Sean had no time to inquire, debrief the man, as Treasure was soon upon them in her short black jacket, white and black polka dot shirt with a sheer collar, and black sailor pants, finished with four-inch, pointy-toed heels.
Navigating past his father’s seat, Sean reached for her and wrapped his arms around her small waist before planting a hearty kiss against her plush lips. His parents scooted about in their chairs as they got to their feet. Reluctantly releasing her, he prepared to make his introductions but Treasure interjected, extending her hand to his mother.
“I’m so sorry for my lateness! I texted Sean to let him know I was running behind but it seems the area I was in was having reception issues…couldn’t even get a call out. My new clients were taking extended time,” she explained.
“Oh, no problem!” his mother stated, her head bobbing back and forth, her grin impossibly wider. She enclosed Treasure’s poor hand with a steady grip, practically gluing their palms together.
“Ma, let the lady go…” Sean smirked.
“Yes, yes.” His mother offered a cluster of embarrassed, choppy laughs as she released the woman and sat back down. Before Treasure could turn toward his father, the man had insinuated himself in her face, breathing down her neck, looking her up and down like some specimen he’d been asked to take a peek at, evaluate for his official records.
“Hello, Mr. Mahoney.” Treasure seemed unmoved by the man, despite the way his long nose hairs blew to and fro from each heavy breath he took.
Why doesn’t he ever trim that shit up? Looks like a goddamn miniature street sweeper!
“Yeah, yeah.” He shook her hand as a waitress sailed past them with a platter covered in teetering soup bowls. “Nice tuh meet you, too. Sean says you’re one of those decorators, the kind that costs a lot of money to make your place look like one of those houses out of a magazine or that one show, what’s that show called?” He snapped his fingers in the air as he brainstormed. “Rich ’nd Infamous.”
“Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, it was called,” Ma corrected.
“Yeah, that was it!”
Treasure offered a faint laugh. “I’m an interior designer but do all sorts of related things.”
“What kinda dental plan ya got?”
The Fight Within Page 34
