My Sister's Ex (22 page)

“My two nieces looked so beautiful, like Serena and Venus, or Beyoncé and Solange. You made me so proud today. And you, Rachel, you shock me sometimes. I want to take a picture of you, show Blinky how much his daughters have grown and matured.”

“Uh, I’d love to, but I really have to be going.” I glance at my watch.

“Why? What are you in a hurry for?” Aunt Perry asks.

“What am I in a hurry for? Um, I have a lunch engagement. Or is it brunch? I just know I’m going out to eat with someone around two o’clock.”

“Oh, Jeff must be coming any minute, huh?” Aunt Perry replies.

I don’t say anything.

“It’ll only take a second, dang knucklehead girl.” With the car still running she grabs her camera phone and hops out the car.

“Go ahead, stand together. Smile for the camera.”

“Aunt Perry, this is silly. We’re too old for this,” Rachel complains.

“You’re never too old to document special family moments. So get to grinning because by the time I count to three, whatever comes out in the picture is what Blinky is gonna see.”

“I hate you,” Rachel pouts.

“And I love you,” Aunt Perry says. “One, two …”

I grab Rachel by the waist and grin.

“Three,” Kiki says from inside the car, “Yayyy,” she yells and claps her hands.

The flash goes off. Rachel disengages herself, turns around, and climbs up the flight of stairs to our unit.

“Anyway, thanks for everything. You’ll have to join us again one day,” I tell my aunt.

“All right, sweetie. Bye. And thanks. Thanks so much. I mean that.” Aunt Perry smiles back and returns to her car.

When I get in the apartment, Rachel is in the kitchen with the refrigerator door open. But the fridge is practically empty. We haven’t done any major grocery shopping for the week, and the last bit of food we had was eaten during breakfast.

“Oh, well,” she says. “I’ll just make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

“Um, that sounds good.”

“No, it doesn’t.” She turns around and looks at me like I’m crazy.

I don’t say anything.

“At least you have a date. Or someone you can share a meal with. Must be nice.” Rachel abruptly shuts up, like she’s thinking. “Oh, snap, I gotta go check my Yahoo mail.” She kicks off her shoes and leaves them in the center of the floor
as she races through the living room. After a while I hear these yelps and cackling noises. Curious, I venture down the hall, twist open the doorknob, and enter her room. I can see her sitting at her tiny desk settled in front of the computer, smiling big-time, and peering closely at the monitor.

“Oh, hell no,” I hear her say. “He is much too light, much too short, much too everything.”

“Girl, what are you in here doing?”

“Um, nothing,” she quickly says and laughs, then grows serious. “Well, to be honest, I’m doing something I never, ever thought I’d do before.”

“Which is?”

“Cyber love, baby.”

“Oh, for real? Dang, Rachel, that’s not even your style.”

“I know … But sometimes you gotta do things differently if you want a different outcome. Anyway, I got tons of hits. Hmm, wonder why,” she says and giggles to herself. “Girl, this stuff is a trip. Oh my God, look at this dude’s profile. Four feet five and two hundred fifty pounds? Plus no picture? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

She keeps clicking her mouse, making negative sounds, and shaking her head.

“Dang, no one stands out so far. I may have to change up some of my search criteria, ’cause these so-called matches suck. Oh, look at this. This guy looks promising.”

I roll my eyes and smile, leave the room so I can freshen up for my outing with Jeff. My hair looks a mess and needs a little bit of touching up. I head to the bathroom and plug in my curling iron.

When I last talked to Jeff, he said he wants to see me today, that we can go grab a bite to eat this afternoon, and then he suggested taking a nice leisurely ride until we reach downtown. He’s been talking nonstop about going to Discovery
Green, a place he described as the perfect outdoor spot for walking, people watching, and laughing at little kids who are having a ball playing in the water fountain. I told him it sounded great and suggested that he hit me up when he was ready. He said he’d be ready by two.

Holding the curling iron steadily in my hand, I carefully clip some strands of hair and begin winding the wand. After I’m satisfied with my hairstyle, I grease my dry scalp, and swipe some Lookin’ Good for Jesus lip balm across my lips. I wait ten minutes, go look out the window, and check my cell phone’s voice mail. No new messages. No new anything.

Bored and agitated, I return to Rachel’s room to see what she’s up to. She’s still leaning toward her monitor, sending e-mails. She’s laughing and seems thoroughly engaged. That irritates me.

“What’s so funny?”

“Huh?” she asks, sounding distracted. “Oh, this one here is a trip. He sent me a flirt, then immediately e-mailed me, gave me his Yahoo address, his IM info, phone number, the works. Jeez, dude is moving a little too fast for me.”

“So, what did you sign up—”

“Oops, hold on. Two guys are trying to IM me at the same time. They see I’m online. Oh, shit, I’m in trouble now.”

“Hey, Rachel—”

“Shhh, be quiet Marlene. I’m trying … okay, he’s in Jamaica, New York. Duh, can’t he read and understand English? I said in my profile that I’d rather date guys who live no more than five hundred miles away. Oh, he can read, he just can’t count, huh?” She starts cracking up. I want to crack her in her mouth. Since when is something on a computer more important than what I’ve got to say? Hmm, some nerve. I don’t care. I got better things to do … if only my “better” would hurry his butt up and come on. Maybe I’ll call
him. No, nope, no. I don’t want it to seem like I’m desperate, checking up on him. I gotta act as if I haven’t noticed he’s not here. I gotta do something to keep busy, or else I’ll go lose my cool. Rachel interrupts my train of thought.

“Oh, Marlene, okay, you gotta check out this guy. He’s—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Rachel.”

“But hold on. His screen name is OldSkool214, but he says to call him Smoky. He claims he’s really feeling me, my profile, and just wants to get to know me better. He says he loves my photo, but would love to see who the real me is, behind the gorgeous face and body. And the best thing is he’s local.”

I frown. “He sounds like a nut bag.”

“Girl, stop. I am a little curious.”

“Curiosity killed the—”

“Jeez, now two other guys are trying to IM me. I haven’t even replied to the first two yet. Goodness. Who has time for this?”

“Why’d you get on the site if you’re not going to do what you’re expected to do, Rachel? Huh?”

Rachel finally stops clicking her mouse and turns to stare at me with a puzzled expression etched on her face. “Why are you still here?” she asks and casually glances at the wall clock. “I thought you would have skedaddled with what’s-his-face.”

“Apparently, what’s-his-face is running somewhat late.”

“And you hate waiting on folks.” She cackles. “Jeff had better have a damn good excuse for making a sista wait on his ass.”

She makes a “that’s a shame” noise in her throat. I settle on her bed, then lie back on the comforter, and let my eyes wander to the ceiling. I am starting to feel like the people I see at church. Well-packaged on the outside, but the outside veils what’s on the inside. When it comes to Jeff’s and my
relationship, I have my pride, but what am I getting in exchange for it? When you lose pride, you start doing things you never imagined you’d do.

“I think I am having second thoughts about all this.”

“Wh-what?” Rachel screeches.

“I mean, he’s a good man and all, but sometimes he can be …”

“What? Go ahead. Say it.” She turns off her monitor and fully swivels her chair and gives me her complete attention.

“He’s not always respectful and considerate. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe he’s just being a man. You know they’re thinkers more than feelers. So I can accept that—”

“But?”

“But as women, why do we always have to be understanding when it comes to guys’ flaws? It’s like they’re born to be a certain way. Insensitive at times. Self-centered. Rude. And we are forced to accept men just the way they are.”

“Preach, girl.”

“No, really. How many guys start off great? They act sweet and have great attention to detail … They’re always on time. They pay for dates—”

“Jeff doesn’t pay for dates anymore?”

I stare at her, think. “He still does from time to time.”

“But.”

“He’s asked to borrow money. And he has me doing strange monetary transactions.”

“Nooo. Dang, girl, asking to borrow money is asking a bit much. Jeff’s not rich, but he has enough. What’s he need your money for?”

“I was hoping … you’d be able to tell me,” I say with a twinge of sadness. “You know him way better than I do.”

“Jeez, girl. I dunno. I am trying to forget him, trying to move on, and now you are asking me to psychoanalyze his
actions? Give you advice about my ex? That takes a lot of nerve, Marlene.”

“I was only asking—”

“You may be asking the wrong person.”

“Okay then forget it, Rachel. Just forget I brought it up. But according to what you’ve recently told me, you are over him. You couldn’t care less what he’s doing. So if that’s true, what’s the harm in talking to me?”

“As much as I hate hearing myself admit this, I’m Jeff’s ex, dummy—”

“I am not dumb; don’t ever call me that again.”

“Dummy.”

I sit up and pounce at her like a tigress. I ball my fingers into a solid fist and swing at her head like it’s a volley ball. But Rachel is quick; she jumps from the chair, dodging and ducking me in one swift move. She stands back a few inches away with her feet spaced apart, hands drawn to her side.

I catch my breath, laugh at how goofy she looks. “Oh, so you think you’re one of Charlie’s Angels now, huh? Which one?”

“Fuck you, Marlene.”

“Rachel, stop the profanity. Jeez, do you have any respect for the church?”

“Oh, like you do. That’s what I hate about you, girl. You’re a hypocrite who can’t see her own self. Look in the mirror, Marlene. Open up your eyes, look in a fucking mirror, and see yourself for who you really are, not who you tell yourself you are, but who you really are.”

I want to swing at her again, but I lack the energy, focus. My mind is too split to do any harm to her. Plus she’s not the true reason for my attitude. It’s way past two-thirty almost three. Jeff could have called to explain his whereabouts. Is that too much to ask? What’s so hard about showing consideration
to the one you claim you like? If this is how he treats people he likes, how does he treat those he doesn’t like? Or maybe I’m overreacting. Guys are set up so different from women that he probably doesn’t realize his tardiness irks me. He says he cares about me, so no way he’d be doing this stuff on purpose. And that’s fine. But why is he becoming slack lately? Women always want to know why. But how many times are we given a suitable answer? I wish I knew.

— 13 —
R
ACHEL

Bastard of the Year

My mama once said
that if you want revenge on someone who’s done you wrong, don’t do anything. She said the wrongs that people commit will always catch up to them, and the only thing I’m required to do is sit back and witness the big payback. So when I see Marlene look so despondent about Jeff’s recent behavior, the first thing I do is think about my mother’s advice. Could this be what she’s referring to? If it is, there really is a God. I never imagined that she, the one who seems so crazy and boldly in love with Jeff, would start to have doubts about the guy.

So while she’s here trying to get me to answer her silly little questions, I feel torn. One part of me wants to jump up and down, pump my fists in the air, and scream “hallelujah.” I want to laugh loud and hard like I’m in the comedy club. Giggle right in her face and tell the girl, “You’re getting just what your ass deserves.” The other part of me, the wiser part, says not to do anything too over the top. Shut my mouth, hush up with the I-told-you-so stuff, and simply wait it out. Let Marlene talk. My job is to listen and gain as much information as possible.

But because I am the way that I am, my solution is to settle for a combination of both.

We’re still in my bedroom. I’ve just called her a hypocrite. But she doesn’t seem fazed or bothered by my words. I wonder if she’s losing the will to fight.

“Marlene, are you okay? You have this strange look on your face.”

“I’m not surprised. I think it’s only because I am so hungry. I didn’t eat much breakfast, trying to save my appetite for this afternoon.” She takes her hand, makes wide circles on her belly as she strokes its roundness.

“Forgive me for asking, Marlene, but what’s stopping you from picking up a phone and calling the guy?”

“Oh, Rachel. I hate when I am waiting, and I give in and call. I just don’t like doing it.”

“Ha, better you than me.”

“Why are you saying that?”

“Fuck Jeff. I mean, really … it’s just making me mad hearing you talk this way. It’s not like it’s a once-in-a-lifetime event that’s going on this afternoon, and like if you aren’t able to go, then you’re really missing out on something big.”

“Like Discovery Green.”

“Oh, well, yeah, but still. That’s not about anything, either.” Actually, that hurts. I remember asking Jeff to take me there, too, but something would always come up, so we never got to go.

“So what would you do if you were in my shoes?”

I smile and think about her question. If she only knew that if I were in her shoes, so many things would be different. If things had turned out the way they should have, and we were able to resolve any premarital concerns, Jeff and I would probably be headed down the aisle by now. She’d be my maid of honor. I’d be on the road to perhaps the best times of my life. Getting married, doing the honeymoon, setting up the Mr. and Mrs. Jeffrey Williams household.