I Left My Back Door Open (34 page)

“That's deep.”

“It's a comprehensive program. You work on delivering honest communications and acknowledging your daily successes in life. And you set and meet goals. Weight is just the outer manifestation of your inner situation.”

“Preach, Dee Dee, preach. Is this infomercial one of my birthday gifts?”

“Sure, I'm in a generous mood.”

“I'm gonna try to release weight today at this buffet.”

“When you're eating, eat slowly, pay attention to your food and savor every bite,” I instructed.

“I thought we were having a visit,” Sarita protested.

“You go back and forth, eating and talking. You rotate, paying attention to me and paying attention to your food.”

“But you can't let yourself get full?” she asked with a worried expression.

“No—in fact, you're supposed to leave food on your plate.”

“Leave food on your plate! We were raised never to waste food!” she exclaimed.

“It's already on your plate. It's not like it's gonna save starving children, whether you eat it or not,” I reasoned.

“I think I wanna start this program tomorrow. Can we just eat like normal people today, since it
is
my birthday?”

“Sure, I just wanted to offer you the tools to weight mastery, as they call them.”

“I'll borrow the book one day and learn all about weight mastery, but today I just wanna be a slave to my taste buds.”

“I hear you.” I laughed.

“It's just so nice to be able to eat food that you didn't have to cook and don't have to worry about fixin' somebody else's plate and cleaning up afterwards.” Sarita polished off a piece of catfish. “I'm so glad you helped me to escape for a few hours. I don't have to hear Mama this and Mama that, and I don't have to hear Phil asking, have you seen this or where did you put that?”

“You deserve a break.”

“Did I tell you that the school tried to get me to put Jason on drugs?”

“On drugs?” I asked through a mouthful of macaroni and cheese.

“You know, Ritalin or Prozac, something. It's big business, now, to fill these kids up with drugs, especially boys.”

“Have you looked at diet? Are you cutting down on his sugar and caffeine?”

“I'm trying to go that route.” Sarita lowered her voice. “They made me agree to take a parenting class, since I refused to put Jason on drugs.”

I sipped my mimosa. “Something good can come out of a parenting class. Anybody could probably learn to become a better parent,” I said.

“That's true.”

“They say being a good parent is the hardest job in the world.”

“It's funny, because you know, it didn't used to be. Marriage seems harder, too.” Sarita sighed. “It's better in some ways and worse in others. Would you believe Phil wants us to go into counseling?”

“You thinking about doing it?”

“We don't have money to give to a counselor. We can put that money into a computer.”

I remembered Phil's threat to enter the chat rooms and talk to women on-line. I almost choked on my greens, and reached for my water. “Is it just a question of money?” I asked. “Because there's inexpensive counseling available.”

Sarita sighed again, and I noticed the lines in her made-up face and the bags under her eyes. “I guess when you get right down to it,” she said, “I'm just not the therapy type. Not to say that I don't have problems and that I don't ever get the blues. Shoot, I took Prozac for a minute. Now I'm on St. John's Wort and I'm drug-free. It's natural, it's an herb,” she added proudly.

“It's good that it's natural.”

Sarita paused and took a swallow of her mimosa. “There's no point in me and Phil paying somebody to listen to why we get on each other's nerves.”

“Maybe counseling could bring you two closer together, though. Maybe you could work through stuff, improve your communication, understand each other's feelings better.”

“Now you sound like a shrink. Look, girl, I don't want to understand Phil's feelings. I'll be honest with you, Dee Dee, I'm not big on probing things. I don't even want to probe my own feelings, let alone somebody else's. And as far as I'm concerned, Phil and I can either stand each other's ways or we can't. It's that simple.

“Remember how some women used to say they just wanted a man who had sense enough to work?” Sarita continued.

I nodded.

“Well, the truth be told, I can relate,” she confided.

I shook my head. “I want a man who has a lot more than just sense enough to work.” I paused. “I want intimacy. Not just sex; I mean
intimacy
.”

“Sounds complicated. Sounds like a lot to ask for from a man. Is that what you have with Skylar?” Sarita seemed skeptical.

“We're developing it.”

“Well, I'm so glad y'all got back together. Phil caught your show yesterday at the barber shop. He said it was really touching. Phil said if he hadn't known who Skylar was, you could've fooled him. I sure wish I'd heard it. But I was out shopping in River Oaks.”

“I'll send you a tape.”

“Why don't you bring Skylar by the house during the holidays, him and his little girl. The kids can play together.”

“Thanks, but can I take a rain check? Brianna's spending the holidays in Indianapolis with her mother and Skylar's going to be in California.”

“Okay, then, sometime after the first of the year.”

“I think you'll like Skylar. He's really a good brotha.”

“Did you ever find out why he didn't answer the phone that time?”

“Funny you should ask. It remained an unsolved mystery until last night. A phone installer remarked to Skylar outside his building that they were working on the phone lines again. Skylar asked when they'd had problems on the line before. The installer told him a couple of months ago. Skylar figured out that's what happened when I tried to reach him that time.”

“And you believe Skylar?”

“Yeah, I do. It sounds like a logical explanation to me. They sometimes have trouble on the phone lines. I was married to a telephone installer, remember?”

“I forgot Wendell was a telephone installer, but I never forgot how he dogged you.”

“Well, I love myself a lot more now. It's hard to love someone who doesn't love herself. Anyway, I think I've found a man that I might be able to trust.”

“You're being gullible if you ask me. I put a question mark after anything a man tells me,” Sarita insisted.

You didn't put a question mark behind Phil telling you that he was kidnapped by bounty hunters, did you
? I said to myself.

“Let me tell you something funny Brianna said,” I interjected in a effort to change the subject. “Skylar took her ice-skating last week and she didn't want to leave when he needed her to. She started boo-hooing and copped an attitude. Skylar called her on it and read her a little bit. And Brianna said, ‘Daddy, you judged me.' Wasn't that cute?”

“Uhmph, you judged me,” Sarita repeated, rolling her eyes. “I wish Jason
would
tell me I
judged
him. I'd say, boy, you're lucky your butt can still sit down.”

“Those words would never come outta Jason's mouth,” I said. “Jason is a homeboy.”

“What planet is Brianna from?”

“Santa Cruz.” I smiled. “That little girl is a stone Northern Californian.”

“Sounds like you've really taken to that little mixed rascal.”

Did I detect a hint of jealousy in Sarita's voice? I tried to sound less gung ho. “We seemed to have hit it off.” I shrugged. “But it's really too early to tell. At this point, Brianna just thinks of me as her daddy's friend. I haven't spent the night yet. She hasn't even seen us kiss. So far, I don't seem to be a threat. But the jury is still out. I'd say I'm cautiously optimistic.”

“I think you're more optimistic than cautious. And from what I heard about how you and Skylar carried on yesterday on the radio, I'd say it's all over but the shouting.”

“I wouldn't go that far. Ultimately, it's a package deal. And Brianna's and my relationship hasn't really been tested yet. But it's about to be. Skylar's babysitter moved out of the area. So we're going to have to include Brianna in some of our dates out of necessity. I'm even going to start spending the night.”

Sarita raised her eyebrows. “Where do you plan to sleep?”

“I'm gonna start out on the couch.”

“Well, so long as you avoid the appearance of evil,” Sarita advised, “I do think that sneaky is the way to go.”

“Brianna's gonna figure out sooner or later that I'm more than just her daddy's friend, anyway. I might even suddenly feel like a threat to her.”

“Well, whatever happens, don't totally neglect Jason. He's still your play nephew, remember.”

“Don't worry, Jason is still my boy. And I
do
appreciate the invite.”

“Well, keep me posted about this intimacy stuff. I am curious about it, although, personally, I don't think it would work for me.”

“Don't you want to be open to new possibilities?” I smiled.

Sarita frowned. “I don't want to get too close to my husband. I don't want to understand everything about him. If the bills are paid and the grass is cut and I don't have to shovel snow or worry about putting gas in my car or taking out the garbage, and he's Dr. Feel-good when I wanna feel good, I don't have a lot of complaints. The fact that we might fuss, so what?” Sarita paused and sipped her mimosa. “Phil and I are lucky. Not everybody finds somebody that they can be happy being miserable with.”

January first came and went and I let out a sigh of relief. I'd survived the holidays. I hadn't binged or purged, despite the tasty temptations. Skylar had called me several times from the West Coast where he was visiting his foster parents. He'd sent me a beautiful floral arrangement. I bought him a photo book of jazz legends for his coffee table. I missed Skylar terribly. I was also looking forward to getting to know his precious little girl. I longed to make that child my own.

Spending time with my sister and brother and their families during the holidays had been pleasant enough. Nothing introspective, nothing deep, just a good time. I had fun playing with their kids. We all had a lot to be thankful for. Everyone was in good health and gainfully employed. My siblings were glad to hear that I had a new love.

I'd spent New Year's Day with Sarita, Phil and all three of their children. Their daughters were home from college for the holidays. Sarita had served the traditional black-eyed peas for luck. She'd stunk up the house with a big, steaming pot of chitterlings. I'd sneaked and lifted the lid off the pot a couple of times and inhaled their pungent aroma. Most people hated the smell of chitterlings, but I secretly savored their odor while they were cooking. It was just one of my quirks. By the way, I don't eat just anybody's chitterlings. I almost have to watch you clean them. But I trusted Sarita's cleanliness standards even more than my own.

twenty-three

My relationship with Skylar was humming along a week or so later. Life was pretty much sweet, I thought as I sat in my recliner, watching Skylar build a fire.

“You're gettin' pretty good at lightin' my fire,” I teased.

“I'm no stranger to a fireplace.” Skylar smiled. “I'm just not used to freezing half to death several months outta the year. If it weren't for your warmth, I swear, I'd take my daughter and leave this godforsaken climate.”

“Look at it this way. A cold winter really makes you appreciate spring.”

“Yes, dear,” Skylar said with a fake smile. He lit the kindling and began stoking the fire.

“Anyway, speaking of cold,” he continued, “yesterday I was walking down the street with a client and the Hawk was kicking our asses. We were being slapped mercilessly with wind mixed with snow. I was wondering if my nearly frozen fingers and toes would have to be amputated, when my client pointed to the temperature displayed outside the bank and remarked, ‘It's really warmed up nicely. Look, it's eighteen degrees.'”

“I couldn't utter a word of protest without sounding like a wimp,” Skylar added. “Especially since I was all bundled up in layers plus had on a hat, scarf and gloves and the other guy was bareheaded, and wearing a trench coat.”

“You're not a wimp,” I assured him. “You're just a Californian.”

“Well, thanks for letting me
share
,” he said with mock sweetness.

A few days later, Dr. King's birthday ushered in a cold snap that got the attention of even the most jaded Chicagoans. Flights were canceled and thousands of people were snowbound. I was at Skylar's high-rise apartment the night the weather got ugly. He and I were sitting in his retro-style living room on an upscale beanbag loveseat when we decided that the roads were too snowy to navigate and it was best for me to stay put. We'd been planning for me to spend the night at some point soon anyway, and decided tonight would be ideal. I had an excuse.

Brianna and I were getting along well. When she was told that I would be sleeping on the couch, she appeared nonchalant. Of course, the plan was for me to start out on the couch and then “visit” Skylar's bed after Brianna was soundly asleep. I would return to the sofa in the wee hours of the morning and Brianna would be none the wiser. Or, so we thought.

Skylar and I stood over Brianna, watching her as she slept. I inhaled her preciousness. She'd hugged me good night and it had raised my hopes. Maybe it wasn't too late for me to be a mother after all. Maybe, despite having had an abortion and a hysterectomy, I would get another chance. And, if I was good at it, maybe I could finally forgive myself. I fantasized that I'd found the “we” of me that the heroine in
Member of the Wedding
longed for.