The Ex Factor: A Novel

by Whitaker, Tu-Shonda

  “Come on, y'all,” Tasha said, “I heard the Arena is supposed to be fiyyah.”

  “I'll pass,” Imani said, “but look, I wanna tell y'all something.”

  “What?”

  “I've been thinking about enrolling in this X-ray technician program. It'll be like going to school and having a job at the same time. The program is out of the hospital and I'll be working at the hospital during the day and going to school at night.”

  “I could see the school part, 'cause you is smart,” Quiana said. “Remember you used to write them poems and shit?”

  “But a job?” Sabrena said as she finished packing the blunt. “You don't need no job, Christmas done passed already.”

  “God-Lee, y'all,” Tasha said, “maybe it's somebody birthday.”

  “No, that ain't it.” Imani sighed. “It's just time to get off the stoop smoking weed. And I want a career. My face is healed, thank God, and my cast came off yesterday. Plus, I can't stay another day with my mother and this nonsingin'-ass Redtonio Brown and his Jammin' for Jesus clique. You know they tryin' to get a recording contract. I told my mother his Top Ten days are over.”

  “Get the fuck outta here.” Sabrena went to pass Imani the blunt. “Jammin' for Jesus?”

  “Naw, I'm good.” Imani said refusing the smoke. “But y'all, you should hear 'em.” She laughed. “They be in the basement doing the remix to Terror Squad's ‘Lean Back.’ ”

  The girls almost choked off the weed smoke, they were laughing so hard. “Tell me—tell,” Quiana coughed out, “how that shit go.”

  “Damn, Quiana,” Imani said, “you spittin' and shit. But look, the remix goes like this, ‘Lean back—lean back—lean back for Jesus He comin' through…' Then Roxanne jumps out—she took Jimmy's spot.” Imani stood up, laughing so hard she was crying. “And Rox-anne says, ‘R to easy Jesus ain't greasy.’ Girl, me and Jamal be on the floor.”

  “That's is funny as hell.” Tasha wiped her eyes. “Now tell us, wassup with Kree?”

  “I can't even lie, I love that niggah, but I have to get my life together. And I swear to you I haven't even fucked him in months.”

  “What? No dick in months and you still breathing?” Sabrena took a pull of the blunt. “Busting a nut is like oxygen for me.”

  Imani laughed. “The next time I fuck him I wanna be able to offer more than a big butt and a smile. But all I want is a career and a spot for me and my baby right now. I was thinking about moving uptown; there's a new building on Hundred Forty-second and Covenant.”

  The girls all looked at one another. Tasha put the blunt out. “Imani, you done fucked up my high.”

  “Why you say that?”

  “Don't pay Tasha no mind,” Sabrena said. “You know she gon' rep for the BK till the end.”

  “And you know this,” Tasha said.

  “They take Section Eight?” Quiana asked.

  “Yeah,” Imani said, “I would just have to contribute two hundred dollars more to the rent every month.”

  They all cracked up laughing.

  “Yo, you crazy, to be paying shit extra,” Sabrena said.

  “It's just two hundred dollars.”

  “Yeah,” Tasha said, “but it's far as hell.”

  “No it's not, it's just a train ride away,” Imani assured them.

  “You ain't gon' be hangin' out with us no more?” Sabrena asked. “What, you gon' be reppin' with an Uptown crew?”

  “Look, y'all my niggahs and we down like four flats. Ain't no replacing that. I just don't wanna sit on the porch and smoke weed every day.”

  “Yeah, I feel you,” Tasha said.

  Just then Imani's cell phone started ringing. She wasn't going to answer because the person was calling from a blocked number but she did anyway. “Hello?”

  “Imani, this Shante.”

  “Oh God no! Shante, sweetie,” Imani said condescendingly, “why are you calling me? What do you want? Is Walik outta jail, y'all having another kid? You want me to drop the charges, if so then no. I'm not. As a matter of fact the state picked them up.”

  “No, Walik ain't outta jail.” Shante sucked her teeth. “His PD is tryna get him to cop a plea anyway. So I'm not calling for any of that.” Shante sucked her teeth again. “And I'm not calling to argue. All I wanna know is this, did you know that Walik had another baby?”

  “A what?” Imani couldn't believe it. “A who?”

  “A baby, by this chick named Lizette. I just had a fight with her the other day because she came outside talkin' a buncha smack about Walik was her baby father and a buncha ra-ra and shit.”

  “How old is the baby?”

  “About six months.”

  “Well hell, don't be mad, welcome her to the club, let her know the rules, get y'all visiting days straight, and keep it movin'. Shit, either go hard or go home. Tell that bitch to play her position.”

  “Oh, you tryna be funny?” “Shante, leave me outta that bullshit. I don't give a damn and don't call me no more.” Imani hung up.

  “What happened?” Sabrena asked.

  “Shante come calling me.”

  “Oh, do we need to put up the hands?” Tasha asked. “You wanna go bust her ass?”

  “Naw, fuck her!” Imani waved her hand. “But listen.” She stood up and stretched. Reaching for her DKNY peacoat, she went on, “I'll get up with y'all later, I need to go past the hospital to see when I'll be able to start classes.”

  “You really going, huh?” Sabrena asked.

  “Yeah. It's time for a change.” Imani hugged her girls and kissed them on the cheeks. “Ai'ight, mamas, catch y'all later.”

  … … …

  “KREE,” IMANI SAID sitting on the edge of the full-sized bed that she shared with Jamal at Starr's house, “have you ever been scared?”

  Kree sat on the floor, as Red walked by every five minutes looking in and out of Imani's room to make sure that Imani was the only one seated on the bed and that the door stayed open. Kree shook his head and laughed as Red passed by for the third time. Imani mushed Kree playfully in the back of his neck. “Are you listening to me?”

  “What, baby?” He turned to face her. “I'm sorry, what'd you say?”

  “I asked have you ever been scared?”

  “Hell yeah, of different things, why?”

  “Ever been scared that you were going to start something and then somehow not complete it? Or that you were going to make big plans to be something and it not happen?”

  “Sometimes. Why?” “Because I feel scared as hell. Like everything is new to me. I'm used to sitting in the living room, being at Sabrena's or Tasha's or Quiana's, or sitting on the stoop smoking weed, going to the club, fighting with Walik, chasing behind Walik, beating Shante's ass 'cause of Walik, and talking shit. I ain't never just chilled. And ever since I came out the hospital, I've been feeling like, Imani, that niggah could've killed you, yo what you really doing?”

  “So what are you going to do about that?”

  “Well…I didn't want to tell you in case I got stupid.”

  “What?” Kree didn't know what to expect; he was just praying it had nothing to with her having feelings for Walik. Kree hadn't placed any pressure on Imani, but he wanted to be with her. It was something about her that he loved and was willing to accept, as long as she stepped up to the plate… and then there was Jamal, who had become like his son. He still took him shopping, he picked him up from school, and every Thursday afternoon they went and got their hair braided together. One thing Kree was sure about was if nobody else loved him, he had a little boy who loved him unconditionally. “Yo,” he curled his lips, “don't tell me nothing crazy, Imani.”

  “Crazy?” She frowned. “No. I don't think it's crazy.”

  “Then what?”

  “I enrolled in an X-ray technician program. One where I work at the hospital for four hours during the day and go to school for four hours in the afternoon.”

  “Say word.” Kree smiled.

  “Word.” Ima
ni blushed. “And I'll be finished in six months. Then I'll be employed at the hospital full time.”

  “Jamal must not know.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that's my ma'fuckin' man and if he knew, he would've told me. Damn, I'm proud of you, baby, but what's to be scared about?”

  “What if I get tired of working or I just don't want to do it anymore?”

  “Imani.” Kree grabbed her hands just as Red walked by and cleared his throat. “You have to believe in yourself and be determined. I told you before that you needed to find something that you liked and that you wanted to do. It's about growing up and maturing.”

  “It's something else.”

  “What?”

  “I put in an application at this building in Harlem for an apartment.”

  “Harlem? What happened to Brooklyn in the house?”

  “Yo.” She smiled. “I'm not about reppin' for no boroughs anymore, I have to be about what's best for me and my son. And I want my independence back. I love my mother and Red but I cannot live with them. Mama Byrd shittin' on the porta-potty all over the house, all this music playing, and Red's ass practicing dance steps and shit in the middle of the night, it just ain't gon' cut it, baby. I got to go.”

  “Well damn,” Red said as he passed Imani's door, “the homeless is awfully choosy.”

  Kree laughed. “I can understand you wanting your own place.” He peeked out the door and Red said, “I'm still here.” Imani rolled her eyes and Kree smiled. “Look,” Kree went on, whispering, “maybe I can get some pussy now.”

  Imani placed her arms around Kree's neck. “Oh you want some? You want some pussy or you want some head?”

  “Both. And I wanna taste you again.” As Kree placed his lips against Imani's, Jamal ran in the room and jumped on his back. “This a jack, niggah, gimme your candy!”

  Kree quickly kissed Imani and let Jamal place him in a pretend choke hold. “Awwwl, man,” Kree screamed, “where'd you come from?”

  “Me and Mama-Starr just came back from the store. Now be quiet, this is a jack!” Jamal pulled Kree to the floor as Kree fell out laughing. “Oh you laughing, punk?” Jamal said. He playfully punched Kree in the head. “Imani—get him.”

  “Get him, Jamal?” Imani asked, ready to attack.

  “Jack 'im!” Jamal shouted.

  Imani got off the bed and started moving from side to side like a sumo wrestler, then without warning she playfully pounced on top of Kree as Jamal had him in a choke hold. “Uhmm, take that!” She tickled Kree in the stomach. “Take that, punk!”

  “Oh, I'ma punk?” Kree said. He was laughing so hard that tears were coming from his eyes. “Oh, I'ma punk? Jamal, Jamal,” he said, “remember you gon' want that new Madden game, remember who gon' play it with you.”

  Jamal loosened his grip on Kree's neck. “Ai'ight, ai'ight. You're right, you're right. You wanna get her?” Jamal asked.

  “You talkin' about me?” Imani couldn't believe it.

  “Who else?” Kree and Jamal turned the tables and jumped Imani. Kree started tickling her and Jamal took the palms of his hands and played in Imani's hair, causing her micro braids to fly all over.

  Imani swept them out of her face. “Okay, okay I give up. I give up.”

  “You give up?” Kree asked.

  “I give up,” Imani said as Jamal continued to mess in her hair.

  “You give up?” Kree asked again.

  “Yes.” She laughed.

  “Well, who you give in to?”

  “You. But what y'all beating me up for?” She laughed as Jamal took her braids and tossed them back into her face.

  “Because we love you,” Kree said seriously.

  Imani brushed her braids out of her face and suddenly her grin was replaced by a serious look. “We love you too,” she said. “We really do.”

  (Celeste)

  CELESTE LISTENED TO The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill CD as she nervously drove up the highway. She took one last puff off her cigarette and plucked it out the window, slowly releasing the smoke behind it. She felt cold and turned up the heat. The winter frost had taken over, and after all winter in New York was colder than most places.

  As Celeste exited the Manhattan Bridge and entered Brooklyn, she knew there was no turning back. Besides, she was done with counterfeiting reality. Now was the time to welcome the difference in bullshit being real but not being defining.

  She parked on the corner of Monica's block and walked up the street. She felt as if her tight, fitted Seven jeans held her together. She straightened the collar on her purple cowhide sweater and matching jacket. Her signature Coach purse was tucked snugly under her right arm and her red curls were wild and free. She took one last breath and rang Monica's bell.

  Monica had just laid Jeremiah down and prayed that whoever was ringing the bell wasn't Sharief. She hadn't heard from him in almost a month and that was the way she needed it to be, to keep her feelings intact and not worry about sympathy and desperation getting together and disguising themselves as true love.

  Monica looked around the living room and was pleased to see her house was clean. The bell rang again.

  Once Monica saw it was Celeste, she opened the door. She and Celeste stared at each other for a moment. Monica's eyes admired her sister's beauty while Celeste tried her best to block Monica's out—that way her mind could resist comparing—but she couldn't help noticing that Monica was no longer pregnant. Trying to keep herself from wondering about the baby she said, “I just came to get my children.”

  Monica stood speechless. Without warning, tears came to her eyes and she started crying.

  “What are you crying for?” Celeste asked. “Did something happen to my children?” She peeked around Monica and looked into the living room. “Where are they?”

  Monica wiped her eyes. “They're not here. I'm sorry, Celeste.” She bit hard on her bottom lip.

  “Where are my children?” Celeste started to panic.

  “With Sharief. They all live with his mother, including Sharief. Celeste, I really want to apologize,” Monica said.

  “For what? Did the sober representative leave and you found out that yo' man was a drunk, or was it the desk duty that killed it?”

  “He was suspended without pay for the bogus charges you pressed against him.”

  “I see. Y'all didn't have any money.” She chuckled. “Well, touché. Oh and another thing, don't tell me what the hell my charges were. 'Cause technically I should've pressed assault charges on you too.”

  “Me?”

  “Weren't you his co-defendant? Didn't you help him to assault me?”

  Monica held her head down. “I really want to apologize for what I did.”

  “You can look at me,” Celeste said. “You looked me dead in the eyes when you told me that my husband was yo' man. And what are you apologizing for?” Celeste squinted. “You had a baby, didn't you?”

  “Yes. A boy, Jeremiah.”

  “You named him Jeremiah? That's the name Sharief and I were supposed to name our son…Well hell”—she tapped her index finger against her full lips—“that makes the shit even worse, doesn't it? From what I can see, Sharief always wanted a son, you always wanted a baby, yet you're apologizing? Are you apologizing for having your baby?”

  “No—I love my baby,” Monica said defensively.

  “Then what are you apologizing for?”

  “Don't make me rehash it.”

  “Look”—Celeste cleared her throat—“you're not apologetic. Sorry, yes, triflin', yes, apologetic, no. I looked at you and Sharief and I studied your vibe around him and the way you looked at him. You loved him and you didn't give a fuck about me, my marriage, or my feelings. I am struggling right now not to tell you that I hate you. That I resent you. And I'm struggling even more not to love you and want to see my nephew. My heart tells me that you're my sister but my mind figures what fuck does that mean if there are no boundaries? Truth be told, I can't stand you, but I love you. Bu
t right now I don't want a happily-ever-after ending with you because that's bullshit. Therefore, your tears mean nothing to me. I have a life to live and taking on the burden of your apology only causes me grief.” Celeste turned around and walked off the porch. She got in her car and headed for Queens to pick up her children.

  Once Celeste arrived in Queens she spotted Sharief and the girls getting out of Sharief's truck. Kayla noticed her right away. She ran to her mother and hugged her tight. Kai and Kori followed suit.

  “Mommy,” Kayla cried, “I have missed you so much. I thought I would be mad when I saw you but I love you.”

  “Yeah, Mommy,” Kai said, “I'm ready roll up outta here.”

  “Let me go get my things right now,” Kori insisted. “I'll be right back.”

  Sharief stood back and watched the girls hug their mother and at that moment, he realized that he'd missed Celeste. He wasn't in love with her, but he'd thought about her and wondered how things could have turned out differently.

  “Celeste,” he said walking over to her, “you look wonderful.”

  “Thank you.” She forced a smile, trying her best to look him in the eyes and not feel anything. “I'm not here for a long conversation and if you want to apologize, save it. I don't want to hear it.”

  Kori came back with a teddy bear and a small radio. “I'm ready,” she said, tapping Celeste on the leg. “We ain't got much. Daddy and Aunty Monica stayed broke.”

  “Kori”—Sharief looked down at her—“where are you going?”

  “With me,” Celeste said, “I came to get my children.”

  “Yeah,” he said sarcastically, “and take care of 'em with my money.”

  “Oh please,” Celeste smirked, “you got off light. I officially dropped the charges so smile and shut up about it.”

  “I'm not trying to argue with you, Celeste.”

  “Then good, don't. Where are their things?”

  “You don't have a place to stay.”

  “Excuse me, but is that a question or a statement?”

  “Well, do you?” he asked.

  “Let me make this clear to you. I am no longer depending on you for shit. I'll be staying with my mother tonight. And just so you know, I took the time I needed to collect myself and now I have a new place to live; the closing for our house was yesterday. And I'll be moving into my new house…in Atlanta… tomorrow.”