Ex-girl to the Next Girl (20 page)

M
e and Malik have not been spending a lot of time together. We have been working so much I wanted to spend quality time with my husband. I cooked a nice, big dinner, for him: I put it in the microwave so he could have it when he came home. Malik entered the house, took his coat off, and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“Malik, your plate is in the microwave.”

“I already ate,” he said.

“You ate what? Where are you coming from?” I asked, upset.

“Nowhere—I'll eat it later,” he said as he covered and wrapped the plate with foil.

“I cooked all this food for you. You could at least eat some of it.”

“I'm not hungry right now. I'll eat it.”

“You ungrateful thing,” I said under my breath as I rolled my eyes. “Malik, I want us to spend some time together.” I went behind him and gave him a kiss.

“All right, let me get something out of the car.”

I went upstairs to wait for him. I undressed and waited for him to get in the bed. He turned off the light and placed a little bag by the side of the bed.

“What you got, Malik?”

“Nothing—sit back,” he said as he began to kiss me. I sat up and grabbed the back of his head and kissed him. He pulled out a purple object and rubbed it up against my leg, then he began winding it in and out of me. I climaxed intensely. I never used a dildo, vibrator, or anything like that.

“What would make you buy me a vibrator?”

“I just thought you would want one,” he said.

“Thank you, baby,” I said as I pulled him on top of me. I didn't want to think too much about it. I wanted to enjoy this moment under the covers with my husband.

“Surprise me like that more often.” I said.

“I will,” he said as he took off his clothes and got in the bed. He held me and made love to me like he missed me.

 

 

I have been bringing in sandwiches and cigarettes, and now Hicks asked me to bring in weed. I was scared at first, but I agreed to. All I had to do was stuff the weed in a plastic wrap, then stick it in my coochie and come in the building. Then I would go into the bathroom and leave it behind the toilet and walk out. Hicks would have someone in maintenance come around and pick it up. She would drop it off to the inmates, and then he would collect the money. Another time I took some coke out of a baby's Pamper in the visiting room, wrapped it up, and stuck it in my bra. Everything was real planned-out. I didn't feel bad about bringing anything into the jails because they don't treat the prisoners right, anyway. And really, they don't give them a chance on the streets in the first place. Sometimes I hate this job and I do hate the way some men gawk at me. But then, sometimes I like it. I don't mind being admired. All these men wanting me, writing me letters, and telling me how pretty I was. The compliments made me feel special. I was the only good-looking thing they got to look at all day. Riddick was a man in a woman's body, and she wore her clothes so loose nobody could figure out where her butt begins and her back ends. And Sheppard has the body and is young, but ditzy. By now I was used to the inmates flirting, playing, and being crazy, reading books, cracking jokes. It made their time go by faster—they had nothing else to do. Inmates are so damn funny like that. I walked past one named Ocho. He was medium built, with smooth, dark chocolate complexion and wavy black hair.

“How you doing, Ms. Robinson?” he said confidently.

“I'm fine.”

“You look real nice—you married?” he asked.

“Yeah, I'm married.”

“Why your man not taking proper care of you?”

“Why you say that?” I questioned.

“Because if you was my woman, you wouldn't be working at all.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, take this,” he said as he passed me a note. It read:

I balled the letter up and stashed it in my pocket. I finished my walk around and found Sheppard to see what she was up to at her post.

“What's that inmate, Ocho's, charges?” I asked.

“Ocho—oh, that's Edward Johnson. He has attempted-murder charges. I read about him in the paper. He's in here for trying to kill some dude that tried to rape his sister. But he's going to get off. Because the guy he shot had a loaded gun in his hand and he is claiming self-defense. He is paid like a motherfucker. He got a picture with everybody famous in his cell. He is even refusing visits.”

“Why?”

“Well, chicks was coming up here, fighting to visit him. He don't just mess with anything. These was nice-looking women.”

“Why? Who is he?” I asked.

“Because that niggah is, like, a millionaire on the streets.”

“Well, now all that doesn't matter because he is behind bars.”

“Yes it do 'cause he about to come home,” she laughed.

 

 

Malik has been cutting up lately. We have been growing apart. I'm working nights and him in the daytime. We really have to set some time alone to be together. I came in from work and the smell of soap was lingering in the air. I peeked in the basement—I knew it wasn't Omar's funky-ass. He didn't believe in bathing. There was tags on the bed off of new clothes, the smell of Irish Spring deodorant soap, and the bathroom mirror was still foggy. I wondered where Malik went. Let him tell it, he's been with Jarrod all this week at the gym. I don't believe him, but if he thinks I'm stupid then that's on him. I know Jarrod has a woman now and doesn't seem like he goes out as much. Malik might be cheating, but I doubt it, though. He doesn't have any money to cheat. How can he afford to take somebody out? I just gave him money to fill up his gas tank and were catching up on bills. Plus, why would he marry me and still cheat? That does not make sense. When men get married, that means they are ready to settle down. I don't have time to worry about him. I have to get some rest. Malik loves me and I love him and now I'm wifey, so even if he did have someone else, she is not his top priority. She would be just a piece of ass.

 

 

I saw Ocho a few times this week—he winked at me and licked out his tongue. If he wasn't so cute, I would have got him in trouble. I smiled and turned away. He had someone slip me a note asking for my telephone number. Everybody talking about him made me really interested to see who he was and what he was about and why he was interested in me. At first I was scared to tell him anything about me. It could be a setup—I didn't know. But I did give him my number.

“How you going to call me?” I asked.

“How you think? On my phone.” All inmates that had money had someone bring them in a cell phone, and then he said, “I'm going to call you tonight after lights out.”

I was so nervous when I got his first call.

“Hey, how you doing?”

“Hi—I'm surprised you called.”

“So what's up, Ma?”

“What's up with you?” I asked.

“Nothing—trying to get to the other side of these walls with you. My lawyer's working on making that happen.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Yeah, man, he's trying to get my bail reduced or get me on house arrest. My gun charge got thrown out already. Then I got an attempted-murder charge, but I'm going to beat that case. Then I got one more assault charge.”

“How'd you get the attempted-murder case?” I asked, looking out the window. I kept looking to see if Malik was coming home.

“See, this guy was fucking with my sister. He tried to rape her. I went to try to talk to the niggah, and he tried to pull fire on me. So I pulled mine out first. It was self-defense.”

“Did he die?”

“No, but he did suffer, though. He lost an eye. I shot him in the head. But that was a dummy move. I got a real bad attitude. I need somebody to keep me at peace so I won't be acting all wild. My temper is a motherfucker.”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “Where is your sister at now?”

“My sister, she is cut. She don't be looking out for me or my son. She ain't sent me no kites, flicks, or put money on my books.”

“That's messed up,” I said.

“Yeah, I know. I got people in here and on the streets holding me down, though.”

“So that's the only charge you have?”

“Naw, I got this stupid other assault case. Because I went to court on the gun charge and the bailiff kept being smart. Every time I signed my name on my papers, he snatched the pen and said, ‘sign here.' So I finally said, ‘yo man, don't keep snatching the pen from me.' He did it again, so I flipped over the papers and pen and they gave me another charge. It's about to be count—I'll see you tomorrow,” he said, hanging up the call.

 

 

I spoke to Ocho all this week on the phone. He filled me in on his struggle growing up. His mom wasn't around much, his parents were doing them he said—drugs, drinking, selling drugs. He lived with his grandmother, but when she died he had to step up and take care of his sister. His conversation was good and he seemed all right. He sent me flowers somehow to the job and passed me an envelope filled with money the other day. He told me to buy myself something. It was only two hundred dollars, but it meant a lot to me.

Malik was asleep in the bed. He had been running the street so much, I guess he was tired. I snuck downstairs to wait for Ocho's call—I wanted to thank him for the money. As soon as he called, I picked up.

“Thanks for the money.”

“It's cool—that ain't nothing. You can get whatever when I get out. Shonda, my old girl, I used to give her, like, five thousand just because—and now that bitch ain't never come and see me. I mean, I'm used to people forgetting about you when they think you're down. But that's okay—I'm doing things differently this time when I get out. I mean that shit. My goal is to open a seafood restaurant. I was stupid with my money, helping everybody out. Not this time—I'm just worrying about me and mine. You feel me. I just want to take care of my son and my woman. Hopefully, that will be you,” he said rambling on.

“How you think that is going to happen? I'm married,” I said, reminding him we could just be friends.

“I don't care. Dude not making you happy,” he said. “I'm going to make you happy.”

“How you going to do that?” I asked.

“You'll see.”

A
ndrew wanted to take all the kids out so Cianni could meet the boys. We met at the Chuck E. Cheese. I introduced them, and at first Kevin was nice to Cianni, but by the end of the day they were arguing. They argued about any and everything, from who could run the fastest to what cartoon was the best. Andrew talked to both of them, letting them know both of their favorites were the best. They agreed and went to play.

“Andrew, Andrew, come see this,” Kevin yelled as he challenged him in the arcade basketball game. I chased Kayden around—he cried every time he saw a character walking and dancing around. The next weekend we took the children to the Please Touch Museum and The New Jersey Adventure Aquarium.

 

 

Andrew had been staying over a lot and we were really a couple. It is so amazing that this man I wanted nothing to do with is now a man I think I love. I was nestled in his arms. Then I heard a knock at my door.

“Mom, can I come in?” Kevin was up early. I tapped Andrew to tell him. His response was, “Just act like I just came over this morning,” he said.

“Kevin, good morning—you ready to eat?” I said as I tried to fix my clothes and close my door behind me.

“Yes,” he said as he wiped his eye.

“Kayden still asleep, Mom?”

“Yes,” I answered nervously. Kevin sat at the table as I poured the Sugar Smacks. Andrew came walking down the steps, playing along with my charade.

“Good morning, Kev.”

“What's up, Andrew? Did you spend the night again?” Kevin asked.

“No. I never spent the night before,” Andrew said.

“Oh, 'cause I was going to say if you are going to keep spending the night you should bring some new clothes over.”

Andrew said, “Well, if I ever do, I will, okay?”

I had to tell my family about Andrew. He had introduced me to his parents, and they were very nice and accepting. Me and his mother, Julia, hit it off right away—she was a retired secretary and his stepdad, Joe, was a retired banker. My mother was making a Sunday dinner. I could talk to my mom, Karen, and Kianna all at once. That would be the perfect opportunity to discuss my relationship with Andrew.

 

 

During dinner I was going to say something, but I didn't have the nerve. So I waited until my mom pulled out dessert. I cleared my throat and said, “Mommy, you know I have been dating someone,” as I took a hunk of pineapple upside down cake. Kianna and Karen focused their attention on me.

“Do tell,” she said as she sat down and grabbed her own cake.

“Well, his name is Andrew, and I want you to meet him.”

“Does he have any children?” she asked.

“Yes, one from his first marriage.”

“How many times has he been married?”

“Once.”

“That is so nice,” my mom said.

“When do we get to meet him?” Kianna asked.

“You two have already met him,” I said.

“We did? When?” Karen asked as they looked at one another.

“That night we went to Glam.”

“I don't remember you meeting anybody,” Kianna said.

“I did meet somebody—the guy at the table.”

“You mean that white guy? You're dating that white guy, Kim?” Karen shouted.

“Yes,” I said, “and I don't care what y'all think.”

“You're dating a white man!” my mother said shocked, like I just announced I was gay or pregnant again.

“His name is Andrew, Mother. He is a great person and we are getting serious.”

“Listen to his name,
Andrew
,” Kianna said in her nerdy white-man impression. Then they started laughing.

“So, when do we get to meet whitey again?” Kianna asked.

“Kianna, I didn't raise you like that,” my mother said.

“Okay, Mom. I'm just having some fun.” Kianna laughed.

“You don't joke like that—your sister will learn,” my mom said, shaking her head.

“Learn what, Mom?” I asked.

“You will learn that all he is doing is living out his fantasy,” my mother said.

“What fantasy, Mom?”

“The one all white men have about bedding a black woman. It has existed since slavery time. They like our butts. If you think any differently, you are crazy.”

“That's not true, Mom. It just what he prefers. Some men like dark-skinned women others prefer light-skinned.”

“Well, it will never work,” she said.

“Why won't it work, Mom? We are getting serious,” I said.

“Because it just ain't right. There are good black men out here and you need to find one.”

“Whatever, Mom. You haven't even met Andrew. Won't you meet him first, then say what he is not? So what if he is not black? He is a good man and treats me a lot better than most of the black men I have dealt with in my life. He has treated me like a queen. And he hasn't tried to dog me or cheat on me.”

“Kim, are you saying all black men are dogs and cheat? Your daddy ain't cheat on me. You need to go try to find a good brother. Just because you got one bad egg, you can't jump ship and get a white man.”

Karen butted in the conversation. “You said you're getting serious, but what if this leads to marriage or even moving in together? How is a white man going to help you raise your black boys? Did you think about that? He don't know anything about our struggle or even where to take them to get a haircut.”

“Andrew is a good person—we are still dating, so I don't even have to worry about that yet. But if it did happen, then I'm sure he would be up for the challenge.”

“You sure about that? Because my nephews need a man in their life to show them the way. And a white man can't do that for them, unfortunately.”

“Why not?”

“Kim, don't get me wrong. I think it is great you met someone, but just don't build yourself up for failure. Where is he from?” Karen asked.

“He's from New Jersey, but his parents live in Paoli. He was raised by his stepfather. He is a good person. They are very nice people,” I said.

“I'm happy if you are happy,” Kianna said.

“I'm going to be happy for me and my children. Be happy for me. Mom, I'm going to bring him over to meet you and take you out.”

“Okay—when y'all going to take me out? I'll meet him.”

I wanted Andrew to look good when he met my mom and sisters. I bought him an outfit. He was upset because he thought I was implying that he didn't know how to dress. I wasn't. I just wanted him to look his very best. I didn't want my mom to be able to find a reason not to like him. Everybody was already seated at the table when we arrived at Hibachi Restaurant. It was a Japanese restaurant where they cooked your food in front of you. I introduced him to everybody. My mom looked the other way like she had lost something.

“How is your crazy friend doing?” Karen asked to make conversation as we sat.

“He is doing okay.” Andrew said.

“So you like brown sugar,” my mother asked when she finally turned around.

“No, actually I prefer Equal.” We all started laughing. My mom even had to laugh.

I thought she was done with her investigation about his motives. But then she asked unapologetically, “What do you want with my daughter?” Andrew said that the first thing he noticed was my beauty and since we've been dating he has learned what an intelligent, articulate, motivated and caring person I was. I was blushing and my sisters were hanging on to his every word. By the end of the night Andrew had won my mother over. He answered all her questions and Karen's inquiries. He paid for the entire dinner and held my mother's door and walked them to their car. By the time we reached my car my mother had called on my cellphone and said she liked him.