My Sister's Ex (29 page)

“Right. Aretha Franklin. ‘Chain, chain, chain,’” Rachel starts singing. “‘Chain of fools.’”

“Girl, how do you remember the words to that old song?”

“Blinky plays it so much I can’t help but memorize them.” She sings, “‘Five long years I thought you were my man. But I found out I’m just a link in your chain.’”

I’m still driving around. Headed toward Jeff’s house. I have never gone to his place unannounced. But he’s been avoiding my calls. And sometimes circumstances drive a woman to do things she’s never done before, things she doesn’t necessarily want to do. Tire Slashing 101. Introduction to Spray Painting. She does something headline-like, trying to make him feel bad and regret what he’s done. Later on, the defense attorney calls it “temporary insanity.”

But as long as her man keeps screwing up, it’ll never be temporary, and she will always be insane.

“Marlene, I’ve been talking, and you’re not saying anything. What are you doing? Where are you?”

I’ve just pulled up in front of Jeff’s house. His precious Ella is sitting in the driveway, looking arrogant with that stupid car cover spread over it. I think about how he won’t let me eat in his car. He’s also put a big towel in there, insisting I sit on it and not on his custom-made leather seats. He wears special gloves that he uses to open the doors. And all this time I thought he was being a perfect gentleman, opening my door. Ha!

“Earth to Marlene, earth to Marlene.”

That punk. I can’t believe he favors an ugly, overpriced piece of metal over me. The longer I gape at his dumb car, the angrier I become. I unlock my door and press my weight on the steering wheel to give myself enough strength to get out of the car. I stand there, in the driveway, staring at Ella as if she’s the other woman. I take a wobbly step toward the car.

“Marlene.” I hear Rachel singing my name from inside my cell phone, which is now safely tucked in my jacket pocket.

I take another step. The sun is shining brightly. And something captures my attention out of the corner of my eye. Lying in plain view on the grass is a pair of lopping shears. The handles are at least two feet long. And check out at that beautiful steel blade. How would Jeff feel if he came home and saw big gashes all over his precious Ella?

I reach down and grab the shears and hold the wooden handles securely in my hands. I take one more step and hear words that sound as if they’re being broadcast from a loudspeaker.

“You are too close to the car. Please move away. Thank you.”

“Marlene? Are you messing with Jeff’s ride? Girl, get the hell away from it, you’re messing up.”

I reach inside my pocket and pick up my cell phone. “Rachel, I can’t believe him. When did he find time to get this security device?”

“You can ask him all those questions, but it won’t be today. You need to stay low, Sis. Join the crew and be in our scheme.”

Like the car says, I back away, but it’s only because the siren starts blaring. Neighbors are looking at me like I’m a felon.

That’s it.

I give up.

— 17 —
R
ACHEL

Just Say No

I am holding my
cell phone in my hand. The screen indicates I have five new messages.

“Little Bit—” I press seven and delete.

“Hey, it’s me. I know you must be—” I press seven again.

“Call me. We need to—” Seven, seven, seven. Funny how the number seven is supposed to mean lucky, but when it comes to a cell phone it means get rid of, erase, strike out, eliminate. Delete my deceitful mother from my cell phone; remove her completely from my life.

I know that because of her, I have life. But when the life your mother gives you makes you want to put your hands around a throat and not stop squeezing until a face turns blue, you’re no longer living. You have a heart that’s beating, but there’s no feeling inside of it. There’s nothing.

My cell phone rings. Because caller ID doesn’t say “Mama,” I answer.

“Hi, Daughter Number Two.”

I don’t say anything.

“I’ve been hearing some things about you.”

“And I’ve been hearing stuff about you, Daddy.”

“Now hold on. You wrong for what you doing. Your mama is over there almost hysterical. Her blood pressure is
so high no amount of medicine is going to help her. Is that what you want? You trying to kill your mama?”

“She’s killed me, Daddy,” I say stonily. “I have nothing to say to her. And if you don’t stop lecturing me, you’ll be next in line.”

“If … you … don’t … shut … up … and … listen … yougonnamakemedosomethingIregret.” Blinky’s voice is sharp, like a blast of wind blowing past my ears.

“Daddy—”

“Shut up. I know you’re mad. I know you’re hurt. But you can’t make a rash decision. You gotta forgive her. Family is all you got.”

“Why didn’t she think of that … before she did what she did? If family is so important, she wouldn’t have put herself in that position. I mean, why me? What have I done, Daddy? Marlene. Mama. Which family member is gonna hurt me next? I may as well not have a family.”

“I know, baby girl. I know what you’re saying, but you’re wrong. You need your family even if things aren’t going perfect.”

“Alita is more of a sister to me, a mother to me, than Mama or Marlene,” I tell him. “Marlene is finding out things, bad things, about Jeff. And I have tried, and I’m still trying to protect her. But what’s the point? Huh?”

“Role switching.”

“What?”

“People take on roles they didn’t expect to be taking. Sometimes you act older than Marlene. You’re the responsible, more logical one. Sometimes the mother turns into the daughter. The mama starts to act like the offspring. Our roles change as we grow up, get older.”

“Oh, so you’re saying that’s why my mama practically hooked up with my man? Because it was her time to morph
into her daughter? Switch roles? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” I say bitterly. “Nice try Blinky You know, for a sixty-year-old man, you’re sounding more like an eight-year-old. No, you’re about as smart as Kiki. She has more sense than all of us.”

“Are you finished? You done?” he asks.

“No, I’m not. I have a good mind to just say fuck it. Move out the apartment. Go live with Alita.”

“Ain’t she living with her man?”

“Yeah, but she wouldn’t mind.”

“No woman wants to live with another woman while she’s living in her own house with her man.”

“I guess you’d know all about stuff like that, huh, Blinky?”

He grows quiet. And I don’t care. Let him think hard about his own actions. The things I’ve been hearing about for so long that it’s like listening to a popular bedtime story.

“Is everything I’ve heard about you true, Blinky? You were first dating my mama. Told her you loved her. But you started catching feelings for my mama’s best friend. And you get Loretta pregnant. Is that how the story goes?”

Daddy is so quiet I’m afraid he’s hung up.

“Oh, so you have nothing to say for yourself? Figures. You’re no better than Jeff. As a matter of fact, you’re just like him. I can’t stand any of ya’ll.”

“If you want to hear the true story, you’re going to have to listen and let me tell my story.”

“I’m listening.”

“Sometimes when you’re young, you think you’re invincible. As a man—and maybe women are like this, too—you think you can do what you want, when you want, until you learn that there’s a price to pay for so-called freedom. When I was with Brooke, man oh man, she was the first thing I
thought about when I woke up in the morning, the last thing on my mind when my eyes closed at night. I loved her more than life itself. She was gutsy funny and yes, your mama was finer than a girl in a picture show. She did what she wanted, when she wanted. I didn’t like it, but I learned to deal with it. So when I started acting like her, tit for tat, well, Brooke couldn’t stand it.

“One night, I came home late. I wasn’t doing anything, just shooting pool all night with my man friends. But she asked me where I’d been. I didn’t like her tone of voice. I told her it was none of her business. We were living with each other. And as far as Brooke was concerned, I was her common law husband. And according to her, if you live with your woman, you need to answer to that woman, or else get your ass out. But I was defiant. And I wouldn’t tell her. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I resented being accused of being unfaithful. She got mad at me and hit me in my eye. She’s small but it hurt. I hit her back. We got into it. I left the house. First person she called, crying and carrying on, was her best friend. She told Loretta she hated me. Loretta was like, ‘You want me to check on him? He’s probably at his hangout.’ Brooke was like, ‘I don’t give a damn what you do. You can go fuck him for all I care.’ And Loretta did.”

I just shake my head in disbelief. My mama
never
told me that story.

“I did what a man naturally does. I was hurting. Ego bruised. My girl cursing me out, making me feel like a snake. A man has feelings. We have emotions even if y’all women accuse us of not having ’em. Shoot, we cry. I did. That night I cried in Loretta’s arms. It just happened. Wasn’t planned. She just felt sorry for me. She saw I was a good man. I was doing the best I could. And I did love your mama, but she
didn’t know how to appreciate my love. She doubted my sincerity. What else could I do, Daughter? Tell me, what else could I do?”

“You could have proved her wrong, Daddy. You could have proved you loved my mama by not sleeping with Loretta.”

Blinky doesn’t say anything.

“You could have said no to Loretta. Mama could have said no to Jeff. Jeff could have said the same thing to Brooke. And that’s why society is fucked up today. No one can just say no.”

“I-I, um—”

“I’m right and nobody can tell me I’m wrong. Daddy, I’m not perfect, but some things you just don’t do. It’s like everyone has an excuse. Why they drink too much. Why they get hooked on drugs. Why they sleep around with people they should leave alone. We’re trying our best to get good things, but we’re doing bad things trying to get the good.”

“But Daughter—”

“It’s just like that old lady Camilla Parker Bowles. She may have eventually snared and married Prince Charles, but she will never earn true honor the way she could have had it if their courtship had been played out the right way. With decency and integrity. Humph, she’s not even called a princess, but a
duchess
, which sounds so much uglier and unattractive than a princess. Get my drift?”

“I get it, Daughter.”

“Now like I said before, I’m not perfect, Daddy. I’m working on it. If Jeff and Mama did me wrong, I have a right to work through my anger.”

“Yeah, you have a right to be mad. Brooke was mad at me for getting Loretta pregnant. And Loretta got mad at me when I got Brooke pregnant.”

“See there. We reap what we sow, and I think Jeff should reap something really bad for all the things he’s doing. His ass should be in the back of a speeding ambulance by now.”

“But if you pay him back, who’s going to pay
you
back?”

“Nobody. Because I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Think about your words, Daughter. Think about your attitude. Because if you do things against Jeff and even your mama, believe me, somebody is going to pay you back.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Well, I do. I’m warning you. Leave well enough alone.”

“Oh, should I throw a party then? Break out a bottle of champagne and make a toast to Mama, to Jeff, to Marlene?” I can’t take it anymore. “Daddy, I can’t listen to you. I gotta get out this town house. I gotta do something before I go crazy.”

I show Blinky respect by thanking him for calling and saying good-bye and that I’ll call him later. I have listened to my father. Now it’s time to listen to myself. I’m taking on a parent role now (if I want to go by Blinky’s insane theory). I’m still very upset, and I vow to do what I think is best.

I call Marlene. “Please tell me you’re laying low. I’m on my way home right now. But I’m starving so I’m going to pick up Chinese.”

“Okay, bring me back some kung pao shrimp—”

“And pork egg foo young,” we say at the same time. I know her favorites.

“And just so you know, Marlene, I just talked to Blinky. My mama called him, probably trying to get him to side with her.”

“I still can’t believe what happened.”

“That sounds funny coming from you.”

“What did you say?”

“I’m saying that now that the shoe is on the other foot, I
think it’s amazing that you’re amazed what another woman will do when it comes to someone else’s man. Did you hear that?”

“Look, Rachel. If I would have known Jeff was a jerk—”

“You never would have messed around with him? Oh, but if he was a good and upright man, that would make it right?”

“You don’t have to yell—”

“I’m angry, you understand? I never thought in a million years we’d be going through this stuff. It’s not us. So give me a minute, okay? I’m working through my anger.”

“Well, as long as you still bring me my Chinese food, I don’t care what you do.”

“That’s sad.”

“And don’t forget the wonton soup.”

“Pitiful.”

“And lots of fortune cookies.”

“Bye, Marlene.”

I hang up and dash over to our favorite Chinese joint, a restaurant off Bellaire Boulevard in a section known as Chinatown.

When I go in, I decide to eat my lunch there and bring Marlene’s home. Make her wait. I ask for the moo goo gai pan lunch special, and place an order for Marlene. A cute Asian waitress dressed in a white blouse and black slacks is responsible for the area where I am sitting, close to the cash register. After she takes my initial order, she frequently walks past my table but refills my glass of tea only one time after I manage to flag her down. When I’ve finished eating, I signal to the waitress. After ten minutes she hands me Marlene’s food. Then she issues me the check and folds her arms while she waits next to my table.

“How you pay?”

“With cash. Why do you ask?” I tell her, irritated, because I don’t like her questioning me how I’m planning on paying. She watches me withdraw a twenty from my wallet, takes the money, then rushes away to ring up the transaction. I keep my eyes on her and notice her closely examining the currency I gave her, as if I’m trying to use counterfeit money. When she returns, she hands me a ten, two singles, and some change. Again she folds her hands and stands at my table, making me feel uncomfortable. I just sit there and play with the coins, annoyed at her behavior. She reminds me of the pharmacist I encountered at the CVS store. And the more I think about the way I was treated that night, the more agitated I get.