Cosmopolitan Girls (19 page)

Chapter 39

Coffee . . . Ahh, the Aroma

Rule Number 8: Throw that mental mess out with
the rest of the garbage and start fresh!

I was packing up the last of my belongings, including my finished script. That's right, I finally finished it. After I returned from my engagement party in Buffalo, my writer's block disappeared. I came back and was a writing machine. I think Granny's magic words turned me around. Life is funny in another big way too. My friendship with Lindsay has helped me rediscover myself. But, out of all our wild and crazy missions, today was going to top them all. The “Old Charlie” was back in the game of life!

Fixing Charlie was the goal and, slowly but surely, I'm getting my act together. Loving God first and me second. I'm exercising three times a week—my body is definitely a temple—and I'm trying to write one to five pages a day on my next project: a science fiction screenplay. I will never put a man in front of my goals or happiness again.

Today is the day I leave Michael for good. I can't wait to see his face when he comes home tonight. It's a shame, he's been doing his thing with Natasha for so long, he's just comfortable and dumb. As of tonight, I won't be Brooklyn bound anymore. I'm
peacing
my mind on my new place and leaving the trouble behind in this sorry apartment where I've felt too much hurt.

The telephone interrupted my thoughts.

“Hello?” I said calmly.

“Hello. Is Michael there?”

It was Natasha. Was this perfect timing or what? Her voice made me laugh for some odd reason. Maybe it was that I finally had a better secret than she did.

“Natasha, Michael isn't here. I thought he was with you.” She hadn't seen the side of Charlie I was about to give her. I was about to be bad and didn't care.

“I don't know what you're talking about. Why would he be with me? Look, we're just friends,” she said.

“Oh, friends? I thought you all were business partners,” I quizzed.

“Um, yes, that's what I meant, you see—”

“Natasha, shut up!” I cut right into her. “I know all about you and Michael. I also know your type. You're an old, sad, pitiful excuse for a woman, who preys on other women's men. One day you'll meet your match. Michael may not be smart enough to understand, but I damn sure am.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. I told you, we are just friends.” She was starting to choke up.

“First of all, bitch, don't interrupt me!” I heard her gasp. “Oh, it doesn't feel so good being called out of your name, does it?” Natasha was silent. “You're so used to calling here, hanging up, playing games, but this time I'm gonna finish! You can have Michael, no hard feelings. The best woman won. Me! His sorry ass is all yours!”

“I don't want Michael,” she said with a shaky voice.

“Honey, tell me something I already don't know. Listen, I'll be gone in an hour, call back then.”

I slammed the phone down as hard as I could. I was tired of Natasha's whiny, barely-speaking-English behind. I felt semi-victorious. Natasha wasn't the only unpleasant intrusion in my life. I had one more loose end to tie.

I picked up the phone, quickly punching in numbers. “Juanita speaking. Holla at me.” Baby Mama Drama herself picked up immediately.

“Hello, Juanita, this is Charlie. I've never called before now because I didn't have a reason to.” I took a deep breath and continued, “Even though your children spoke badly to me, I never threw salt on your name.”

“Ain't this a trip?” Juanita said venomously.

My nostrils flared. I didn't want to get into a shouting match but what I had to say was important. I had no choice but to lower myself to Juanita's level to make sure she understood. “I just wanted to give you a piece of advice. It's not a good idea to put your kids in adult business and have them fight your battles.” My voice was tense.

“How you gonna call me and tell me what I can and cannot do with
my
kids?” Juanita said. I just knew she was on the other end rolling her eyes and neck.

“Clearly, somebody needs to tell you, you . . . ”
Stupid!
I bit my lip, holding in the tail end of my thoughts. I started again slowly, “Juanita, you don't know me, or know what kind of woman I am. Do you realize the power I had with your kids?” I could tell that she was finally seeing where I was going. “Just think about all the stuff you've done to me. Think what I could have done to them, if I wanted to play the same dirty games you were playing. I could've been abusive, verbally or, even worse, physically abusive.”

I could hear her exasperated breathing, but she was getting the message. “You dragged my name through the mud, and I could've done the same. There were so many times I could've made comparisons that I was prettier and smarter than you, I had a job but you were on welfare living in the projects, and that's why their daddy chose me.” I went on and on spelling it out for Juanita. “To be quite honest, Juanita, I think I love your children more than you do. What other woman do you know would have taken all the mess you put me through, without some sort of retaliation? Are you still there?” I wanted to make sure she was still listening.

“Uh, yeah. I mean, yes, I'm still here.” Juanita cleared her throat. It was obvious that she was paying close attention.

“I'm only telling you this because I'm leaving Michael. I really love MJ and Tiffany. I wanted to warn you. The next woman Michael gets with may not be a God-fearing woman like me.” I wasn't sure, but based on the silence I think she was choked up. I knew she loved her kids, but somebody needed to show her that she's been wrong and that she's hurting her children's future.

“Well, that's all I wanted to say. Good luck.”

“Charlie?” Juanita meekly said.

“Yes?”

“Um, thank you.”

“You're welcome,” I said as I hung up. That conversation with Juanita was a long time coming. I just hoped she would really remember what I passed on to her when the next woman in Michael's life rolled in.

I sat in the living room, scanning the empty apartment. Glad I settled up with Juanita and Natasha. This would all be a part of my past soon. But for some reason I still wasn't completely satisfied. I couldn't sit still. I had to move around the apartment. I couldn't believe how long I'd been Michael's fool.

It took me a long time to smell the coffee. Michael brewed it strong and hot, but I didn't want to have a cup of it, not even a sip! If this had been my mother instead of me, I would have judged her. Harshly.

The awful truth had me admitting just how judgmental I was. I had been looking down on my mother for years, when no matter what, she'd been there for me, through all of my ordeals, giving advice that I felt she was unqualified to give. Not once did my mother make me feel stupid or bad for staying with Michael. She loved me and would support whatever decision I made. She'd given me unconditional love, and now I wasn't so sure I deserved it.

I ran back into the living room, unpacked the telephone and plugged it into the wall. It was late, but not too late for my night-owl mother. After two rings Mama picked up.

“Hi, Mama. You know I love you. I tell you that every time I talk to you. But there's something I've never said, and need to say now.” My voice quivered. So many emotions were surfacing.

“Charlie, is everything okay?” Mama was worried.

“Yes, everything is fine. I'm leaving Michael for good, but that's not why I called. Ma, I love you with all my heart. And more importantly, I
respect
you. I want and need you to know this. It's taken me a while to realize it. Also, it took some hard lessons in love and personal degradation to admit to myself that for years I've always looked down on you, and the choices you've made in life.” The shame I felt caused me to cry.

“Baby, I know. I don't want you to feel guilty. I've made plenty of mistakes in my life. I'm just sorry you had to witness most of them.” Mama started to cry too.

“But Ma, we all make mistakes. When I do, you never judge me. Please, forgive me?” I said, trying to wipe my face. My tears weren't for Michael, and I didn't want him coming in thinking they were.

“Stop crying, baby. There's nothing to forgive. We live and we learn. Don't think for one minute that I haven't learned a thing or two from you,” she said, trying to sound hard-core. Her attempt lightened the moment. “But it feels real good to know that my baby girl respects me,” Mama said, chuckling slightly.

“I do. I always have. It was always my problem not yours. I have to go. I just wanted to tell you how much I love and appreciate you.” I needed to collect myself before Michael arrived.

“I know. Same here. Don't worry, you'll be fine, know that it's Michael who's lost.” Mama blew me a kiss over the phone and hung up. Now I was ready to face my new life.

Michael entered the apartment, and when he hit the lights he was startled, but he tried to act unaffected. “Babe, what happened to the furniture?” Michael casually asked, looking around. The only thing still intact was that tired walk-in closet, and his clothes.

“Oh, I moved all my furniture to my new apartment. Remember, it was all mine. You can keep the place, like I said, I have a new one.” I handed him my set of keys.

“Charlie, what the hell is going on?” Michael was pissed. Probably more so because he was going to have to cook and clean for himself now.

“You would know if you didn't have your head so far up Natasha's butt. By the way, she called earlier,” I said with a smirk.

“Charlie, I know I was wrong, but I ended that months ago. I swear.” Michael was sweating, and doing that fast talking again.

“You ended it? Oh, so now you're admitting something did happen.” I shook my head.

“It didn't mean anything. I was just using her, baby. Please just listen to me, I can explain.” Michael realized he was losing.

“When I first met you, I told you that I would be the coolest woman you would ever date. No nagging or questioning your whereabouts all the time. All I wanted from you was respect,” I reminded Michael.

“I know, and you mean everything to me. Please Charlie, don't do this, I love you.” Michael looked sorrowful.

“How can you love me, when you can't even respect me? You had that woman calling our house. Michael, calling
our
house.” The way I looked and the harshness of my words let him know I wasn't his fool anymore.

“I hope Natasha was worth it. I pray she makes you and the kids very happy. And good luck on that new business.” Granny gave me that last one, said the old folks used to say, “You get more flies with sugar than shit!” I was killing him with all the kindness in the world.

“Fuck! Charlie, please just wait! Just give me another chance!” Michael was starting to lose it. I picked up my small box of personal items and made my exit. I kept my head held high as I walked past Michael.

“It's gonna be hard, but I've got to move on with my life. I'll eventually get over you and I imagine you'll get over me. But what's more important is that I have to do what's right for me.” I turned one last time before opening the door. “Why should I continue to press you to be faithful? A man who's true will be true. You feel me?” I said, looking Michael right in the eye. “Peace out, adiós, or better yet, as the
French
would say, au revoir!” I smarted off. I just couldn't help myself.

Michael would've married me. Just a little more time was all he needed, and my continued patience would be rewarded once I said, “I do.” I still love Michael, but it's time for me to start loving myself. I'm finally doing what I feared most, starting over on my own. The fear of being alone was so powerful, but
now
my happiness feels just as strong.

I checked my watch, right on time. I walked out and headed across the street where Lindsay was pulling up in the getaway car. I'd risen out of Michael's destructive ashes like a phoenix!

Chapter 40

Mama's Eyes

Mama, I want to come home,” my voice cracked. I didn't need to give an explanation or reason. Mama wanted me home too.

I was sitting at a small table in the back of Starbucks inside Lambert–St. Louis Airport waiting for Mama to pick me up. The airport was a drastic contrast from the Newark Airport bustle of businessmen and jet-setters.

A vision of timeless beauty, Mama appeared. She was dressed ethnic chic. Layers of scarves and Egyptian-print fabric draped her body. She jazzed up the ensemble with exaggerated beads around her neck and a hip pair of multicolored Prada sneakers, a present from me last Christmas. Mama's large gold bangles jingled softly as she held me tightly in her arms.

“So, how's my Lindsay?” Mama asked, emptying a tiny blue packet of sugar substitute into her coffee.

“I'm fine, Mama. I'm happy to see you.” I doodled with the coffee stirrer.

“I want to talk before we go home.”

There was a look in her eyes and I knew that a lesson was coming. Mama took a big swallow of the molten black liquid. “You need to come home more often. Family should be the most important thing in one's life.”

Mama insisted I had gotten carried away with work and was too intense about life.

“Your family's gonna love you no matter what. Whether or not you have a job or know people in high places. You get so caught up in the little things, Lindsay. Things that add up to a bunch of nothing, like this whole relationship with Troy.”

My sisters had opened their big mouths.

“Honey, please, your life is worth so much more than some little relationship. Stop worrying. When it's time, God will bring you the right one.” Mama's words of wisdom stung. “How have you been feeling?” she said, examining me.

“I've been,” I paused, “uhm, good.”

“Humph, strangest thing, I dreamt about fishes. I was wondering if it was you.” I shook my head no, but Mama knew, just like all mothers do when their babies aren't telling the truth. “I'm not happy about this abortion.”

“Mama—” I tried to interrupt, but my mother shushed me.

“No, Lindsay, I love you too much to dance around all this. You're grown, but I birthed you. No more! Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Mama,” I whispered softly.

“Life is nothing to play around with.”

I was hoping Mama was done, but she wasn't.

“I meant what I said about that Troy stuff. I don't want another thought wasted on him. Do you read me?”

“Loud and clear!” I started to cry.

Mama wiped my face with a stiff napkin.

“Perfect example of what I mean when I say you waste too much time on the little things.” She paused, then held my face in her hands. “Lindsay, your sister Faith needs us.”

“What happened, Mama?” My heart skipped.

“The MS has gotten worse.”

“What did the doctors say?” I asked.

“I don't know. But we're going to the hospital from here.”

I sat still in the car. I couldn't stop crying. Multiple sclerosis was a cruel joke on the body. Thoughts of Faith's body shutting down, paralyzed to the point of being confined to a wheelchair, filled my head. I understood now more than ever that nothing is promised, and there are no guarantees in life.

The entire family was in the waiting room when Mama and I arrived. Daddy was so happy to see me he actually lifted me up in the air when we embraced. Daddy was normally a man of few words, but not today.

“I'm glad you're home, baby,” he said, hugging me again.

I had been so distant my family didn't even expect me to show up, which reinforced what had become clear to me—that I was definitely going down the wrong path. My nieces and nephews greeted me with innocent and tentative affection. My brother-in-law Richard's face was emotionless. He had to be strong for the kids, but his bear hug told me just how much he was hurting.

Holding two cups of coffee, Angie entered the waiting room. She wasn't her usual big-mouthed, brassy self. Today she was weary and softspoken. She looked at me as if she had seen a ghost. I had to be the strong one for a change. We hugged and held each other tight for several minutes.

“I'm sorry I've been such a jerk,” I said.

“It's okay. Little sisters are usually jerks,” Angie joked, “but I still love you.”

Faith was diagnosed primary-progressive. Angie and I stood, one on either side of her bed, each holding one of her hands. Faith was trying hard to speak.

“Finally, a way to shut you up,” Angie said.

“I guess Dr. Chang's magic tea didn't work too well, and neither did the good folks at Hannah's Herbal. Man, I'm zero for two with you,” I joked.

Faith's laughter triggered a domino effect. We all started laughing and crying all at the same time. Faith had to make us stop because laughing hurt.

“Look what I have to do, just to see you,” Faith said sarcastically.

“Yeah, well my facial was canceled, and I had nothing else to do,” I joked.

Faith lay helpless. Angie got quiet. She always clammed up when she was nervous or scared, sometimes she just burst into tears, and she was on the verge.

I couldn't believe how selfish I'd been all this time. My sisters had taken my side in all my complaining and bitching about Robert and held on for dear life through all my relationship roller-coaster rides. Not once had I even asked,
How's your life?
Or,
How was your day?

I was trying my best not to break down as I slowly ran a brush through Faith's thick and wavy hair. Faith motioned for Angie to sit down.

“I remember when you were a little girl and me and Angie used to brush your hair. Funny, huh?” Faith paused. “Angie and Lindsay, I trust you with everything I own, including my babies. I want you to make sure they're taken care of if something happens to me.”

I stopped brushing. I didn't want her talking like she had been given a death sentence. Angie stood up and grabbed my hand, placing it between hers and Faith's. Faith wanted both of us to understand that her quality of life was going to change now because of her sickness. The room had become too morbid for me. I quickly changed the subject.

“Guess what y'all? I finally stood up to Robert, and I'm gonna start relaxing more and making time for myself and my family,” I said, trying to hide my fear.

“Good, I'm so proud of you, and I'm going to ask God to bring you a good man,” Faith replied with a weak smile.

I was blown away by Faith's selflessness. Faith was sick, laid up in the hospital, but still praying for us. I touched Faith's face. Being with my sisters made me really understand the importance of living each day like it's your last. With all of life's uncertainties, the
only
guarantee is family.