Authors: Darren Coleman
P
eople were standing around looking important and elegant. A few men were actually in tuxes, and I could have sworn I’d seen a sister in a mink stole. There were bars set up all around and Vivian Green was performing, trying to loosen up the somewhat stiff crowd. Lisa’s husband, Derrick, had gotten us a table in a prime location in the center of the ballroom, making it easy for us to people-watch. Mostly, though, I sat and listened to Jacob go on and on about the situation he faced. As I talked him through every imaginable scenario he frowned and grimaced as he focused on the worst that could happen.
Finally he came to the realization that he was going do his best to keep the whole situation under wraps. He ended up trying to relax and had enjoyed a couple glasses of cognac when Lisa showed up and asked, “What’s wrong with you?”
He tried to act normal, but she sensed that he wasn’t his usual upbeat self. It wasn’t long before she had him opening up. Now that
another person was willing to listen to him, he opened up the floodgates of his woes. The next thing I knew, my brother, Lee, had shown up and I knew the round-table discussion was about to kick off.
It wasn’t like I wasn’t glad to see Lee. In fact, I’d invited him out, but truthfully, I was surprised that he’d been able to get out of the house. Ever since he’d been married, he’d become somewhat of a henpecked bitch, to put it lightly. On top of that, he was a born-again, which was cool, but he tended to get a little preachy, given the opportunity.
“Jacob’s an ignorant son of a bitch,” Lisa had said, laughing. “So you got the bitch raped? I don’t want to hear any more of this scandalous shit.” She was on her third glass of champagne.
“Jacob, you got to put this in the hands of the Lord, man. He knows your heart,” Lee had chimed in after hearing the quick and dirty version from Lisa. “Check it. Before we even see the problem, He has already provided us with a way out.”
Hearing that, I excused myself. “I’m gonna take a walk. You comin’, Jake?”
“Nah, I’m good. I’ma talk to Lee for a minute.”
Assuming he wanted to get a different perspective from my brother, I made my way out of the ballroom for some air. The D.C. Convention Center was humongous and the Black Caucus had put together a week’s worth of events. None of which I planned to attend after this one. This reception was for the media, and people from all over the country were in attendance, but mostly it seemed there were people who belonged here.
I was a schoolteacher and had no desire to network with these people. Unless someone here was going to get me a raise for being
overworked and underappreciated, there wasn’t much for me other than the drinks and the free concert. I made my way to the bar and pulled out the free-drink tickets that Lisa had given me and ordered a double shot of Hennessy and Coke to wash it down.
I stepped outside the bar and made my way across the expansive carpeted hallway. The whole side of the building was glass and it was a beautiful night. I walked over to a window and stared down to the street below. A flow of cars passed underneath and just across the street there was a well-lit park with a historical look to it.
The difference between the loud music inside the ballroom and the peace of the lobby sent my mind swirling. All of a sudden I had time to think. I found myself looking down into that park wishing that I was down there with someone I cared about. With Alicia.
I missed her. No one knew how much. Sure, I’d talked to Jacob, Lisa, my mom, and even my barber, but not a soul truly knew how much it hurt me that we weren’t together. I had spent the last couple of months thinking about how I’d done nearly everything possible to ruin our relationship. I’d fucked other women and possibly gotten one pregnant. I’d allowed the dirt I’d done in the streets to follow me home, which broke rule numero uno of the player’s code.
Looking back on it all, I wished that I had simply jerked my dick off because, truthfully, all the pussy I’d gotten just didn’t seem worth it now. Women never understood that at the time men just didn’t know that. It’s like we have to see it to believe it. But now that I’d punched that ticket, I was out in the cold.
I couldn’t count the number of times since the wedding when I’d tossed and turned all night. The sick feeling I’d get just thinking that I’d seen her driving by. I missed her, and needed her, like I needed air to breathe.
“Excuse me,” the voice said from behind me.
I turned around and saw a sister standing there in a black strapless gown. She looked to be in her early forties, but only because as she stepped forward, I saw a bit of gray splashed in her short cut. I tried to focus on her face as I realized she was speaking to me, but it was hard. She had the most wonderful set of hips and her dress was cut as low as tastefulness would allow.
“Yes,” I responded.
“I know this is a weird request, but I was in the middle of a business call to my assistant, and just like that…the friggin’ battery on my cell died out. I was wondering if you have one that I could use for one minute. I’d gladly pay you. I just don’t have time to walk back in there to find a colleague. I’ve only a few minutes to relay some important information,” she said with a slight smile.
I smiled back and reached to my hip to take my phone off the holster. “No problem, and the minutes are free right now, so don’t worry about paying me.” I laughed.
“Thanks so much…”
“Diego.”
“I’m Jonetta. Jonetta Cleveland, but everyone calls me Jo,” she said as she extended her hand and then took my cell phone.
“Okay, Jo.” She didn’t look like anyone’s Joe. When she turned I noticed that she had a real nice donkey on her.
Not wanting to seem as though I didn’t trust her with the phone, I headed back to the window and she drifted casually a few feet back. I could hear her going into all-business tone and she even seemed a little angered at the person on the other end of the line. In less than two minutes she was at my side, handing me my phone.
“Listen, Diego, I really appreciate this. If I hadn’t made that
call…you just have no idea,” she said excitedly. Her demeanor seemed to calm. “The very least I can do, brother, is buy you a drink,” she insisted. I noticed her accent.
“Where you from?”
“That thick, huh?” she said. “Long Island, and before that Boston. What about you?”
“I’m from here. Born and raised.”
“A Washingtonian. Well, sir, how about that drink?”
I shook my now-empty cup and said, “That would be lovely.”
We headed off to the ballroom and stood in line as we tried to make some small talk over the music. Vivian Green was already finished and a DJ was providing the music.
“Did you come alone?” Jo leaned in and asked.
“Actually, I came with a couple of friends.”
She nodded and the look on her face showed that wasn’t the answer she’d wanted.
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, since these lines were so long, I was going to suggest that we walk back over to the bar at my hotel. I’m at the Renaissance over on Ninth. I was there last night for a glass of wine before bed. It was really nice and cozy. I’m not all that big on these big party thingies. Only here now because they are honoring my boss.”
“I understand. I’m not all that big on crowds or hobnobbing either. I just really needed to get out tonight.”
“Tough week?” she asked.
“Tough month.”
She laughed. “No, they didn’t just put on my jam.” Keith Sweat’s “Make It Last Forever” came through the speakers and she began to sway back and forth.
I looked her up and down and tried to get a gauge on her. Was she offering me up or just trying to make a friend? Then I looked down and saw the rock on her finger. It had to be at least three carats. This woman was sophisticated and very much used to calling the shots, it seemed. I reasoned that if she wanted me, she would be more clear. Plus, I wasn’t really sure if I found her all that attractive. She was a nice-looking woman, but she reminded me more of someone’s aunt than a sistah I’d be trying to bang. She seemed sort of regal in her nature and that alone had me feeling compelled to give her more respect than I gave most women. The more I studied her, the less likely it seemed that she would be the type of woman who’d sleep with a man like myself. Someone whose swagger and actions screamed
no strings attached
at times and
emotionally unavailable
almost always.
“C’mon,” I said, and led her to the dance floor.
She was a good dancer and it became easy to forget that there were a few years between us—like fifteen probably. After we finished, a cut by Charlie Wilson came on and we danced right through. When the song ended I told her that I’d go have that drink if she still wanted to, but I needed to find my friends. She smiled and told me to meet her in the lobby.
I found Jacob in much better spirits. He was drunk. Lee reluctantly agreed to give him a ride home. He needed to punch a clock, I was sure, but after a little coaxing, I was off.
It was in the fifties, cool for September in the nation’s capital. As we walked Jo began to talk about her job. She worked as a senior editor for Johnson Publishing, doing work for
Essence
magazine. I was surprised when she told me that she’d been married for sixteen years and had a fourteen-year-old daughter.
“A bottle of white Zinfandel, please. Diego, what are you drinking?”
“I’m drinking Hennessy.”
She looked at the waiter. “Bring the bottle, please, and put it on this card.”
“The bottle? I won’t be drinking that much.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely, and as a matter of fact, I think I’ll drink some wine with you. I have to drive home.”
She nodded and the waiter was off.
“So, Diego, tell me about yourself.”
“Not much to tell. I’m a schoolteacher. I teach second grade.”
“Here in D.C.?”
“No, out in Prince George’s County.”
“Isn’t that pretty much the same?” She laughed.
“Believe it or not, nope. Every other school district around here gets paid better than PG County teachers.”
“Well, why do you stay? Why not go to another county?”
“Because…” I paused and thought about my answer. “I love my kids. I went to school here, my mom taught here in the county, and it’s rough for the kids. People think that because we’re not in the District that we don’t have the same problems as inner-city schools. In fact, oftentimes we got it worse.”
“
Have
it worse.” She laughed as she corrected me. “Well, I commend you. I think we need more black men—more men, period—to teach the kids.”
I nodded in agreement.
We finished off the bottle of wine while I told her my stories about teaching. The triumphs and the horrors. She ordered a sec
ond bottle and I told her that she’d be drinking most of it herself. After making a bathroom run, I realized that I was drunk and she had to have been, too.
As I walked back to the table she was fiddling with her phone. “Battery is still dead,” she hummed.
“Well, you didn’t charge it.”
“Sometimes, once it’s off awhile, it’ll come on by itself.”
“So, do you need to make a call?” I offered my phone.
“No, I was going to call home, but it’s okay really. My husband is probably sleeping by now anyway.”
Her tone gave away a little something, some dissatisfaction maybe, but I didn’t want to pry. “Well, maybe you should go up to your room and call. I can wait here for you.”
“You’re sweet, Diego,” she said, taking my hand in hers. Staring deeply into my eyes, she asked, “How old are you?”
“Thirty.”
She closed her eyes. “A baby, your whole life in front of you,” she said. Then she went on, and out of nowhere came “Diego, never fall in love and never get married.”
I was shocked and leaned back.
“You know, Diego, I don’t think I love my husband anymore. And I’m not sure if he still loves me.” I wasn’t sure where this was going, but I began to get the feeling that the wine was bringing this out of her. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” She covered her mouth with her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. If you want to talk about it, I’ll listen.” For the second time that night, it seemed as if I was going to find escape from my own jacked-up life by listening to someone else’s miseries.
After I assured her that I wanted her to talk, she confided that
she was scared that her marriage was falling apart. She said that she’d lost respect for her husband over the last year. He’d lost his job in the computer field, where he’d been pulling in six figures, and had yet to rebound. Her problem was that he hadn’t accepted any offers for new positions because the salaries were too low, and on top of it all he was now saying that he wasn’t even sure he wanted to stay in that field. At this point he was thinking about opening up a sandwich shop in Manhattan. The bills were piling up and their savings had been dwindling. It had been too long without him bringing anything in and Jo was growing tired of carrying the load.
They were beginning to fight about money all the time. An hour passed and her eyes showed her pain and disappointment as she confided in me. Though she was a nice-looking woman, something in her voice and manner beyond the physical spoke to me while we sat talking in that booth in the Presidents’ Lounge. I realized that I had a purpose and a reason for meeting her. For the first time, a woman was telling me the reason behind the problem in her marriage, and for some reason, I felt compelled to help instead of trying to take advantage. I told her everything that I imagined her husband was going through. “Jo, you probably have no idea how hard it is for a man to work and feel unfulfilled.”
I explained to her that she needed to understand her husband’s reluctance to accept a job at which he felt underpaid and undervalued. “I’m living it every day. The only thing that keeps me showing up is the kids. And once I get to the point where they aren’t enough to keep me from being miserable, then I’ll have to leave, too.”
I advised her to tell her husband that it was okay if he wanted to make a career change at forty, but just explain to him that she was tired and needed his help taking care of the finances before their
savings disappeared completely. I then explained that a great way to do this and get what she wanted without attacking his manhood would be to simply make him believe that her biggest concern was to get behind him and support him. “I’m not trying to stereotype you, but it seems that black women don’t really understand how much we need their support. Especially if it means making yourselves uncomfortable. That’s not unconditional love. That’s ‘I’ll love you as long as you don’t make me uncomfortable,’ and that’s not right. Sounds like that man lost his way when he lost that high-paying job. You weren’t hard to find when he was bringing home that cash.” I smiled at her. “You were at the mall.” I laughed. “Don’t be hard to find. Help him find his way or just stick by him while he does.”