Playing Hard To Get (36 page)

“Awwww,” Troy said. “Well, technically…we didn’t do it. I’m broke. Tasha paid for everything.”

The 3Ts laughed and joked like this, familiar and fortunate friends as a waitstaff carried out an assortment of teas and delectable desserts that birthed a sweet-smelling cloud of vanilla and cinnamon over the table. After sipping on English tea, they tasted, pie after cake after cookie until little more than crumbs remained on the table.

“I guess it was a good idea not to order dinner,” Troy said.

“Who needs dinner when you can have dessert?” Tasha joked. “That’s the new diet!”

Having told her friends about her meeting with Malik and how badly Charleston treated her at the office, Tamia sat full and also relieved. Her girls reminded her that she’d done her part. She’d remained honest to herself and everyone around her. Now it was time for the men to pick up the pieces. She could rise in the morning with a clear head and heart and move on with her life—wherever it took her.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you guys like that the other day,” Tasha said, telling the other Ts that she was missing her family. “Lionel’s coming around, I think. He agreed to let me see the girls on the weekends.”

“That’s a beautiful blessing,” Troy said tenderly. “I want you to know that we both love you and we only want what’s best for you and your family.”

Tamia nodded in agreement.

“Troy’s right. I didn’t mean to hurt you with the things I said the other week,” she said. “I love you and I wasn’t judging you. I just had to say what I had to say.”

“Exactly,” Troy added. “You can always come to us.”

“And you can always come to me,” Tasha snapped at Troy playfully. “Child walking all around the city as broke as a Brooklyn roach like she doesn’t have wigs with money to burn. The next time you need a check or for me to check the asses of one of those chicks at the church, you call me!”

“Oh, no,” Troy said.

“I might be a mama, but I haven’t gone soft yet.”

“That’s not what Lynn said…Lynn or Bobby,” Tamia joked, tossing a sugar cube at Tasha.

“See, there you go messing up our tea,” Tasha said. “I’m trying to keep it classy and you’re over here throwing stuff.”

“Wait, wait!” Troy jumped in. “We forgot something!” She jumped up and ran to the gift boxes stacked on the floor.

“What’s that?” Tamia asked.

“Just some gifts for our guest of honor,” Tasha said, taking one of the boxes from Troy. “This one is from me.”

“You two!” Tamia purred, opening her gift with the speed of a six-year-old. “What is this?” she asked, looking at a white box.

“Open it,” Troy said.

Inside there was a wig of fine brown hair that looked in length and style just like Tamia’s old hair.

“What?” Tamia shouted so loud the harpist skipped a note. “A wig!”

“Now, you were complaining about old Nelson Mandela making you cut your hair off, and I figured that could help you get by until you grow some hair back on that beady head of yours. You know you have a dent in the back, right?” Tasha teased.

“No, I don’t,” Tamia said, stretching the wig out.

“We figured you could wear it to court,” Troy said, handing Tamia another box. “You know, to play into the old you. Now, open this one.”

She handed Tamia the gift and grinned gleefully.

“Now, I’m on a budget, so it’s kind of, like, from my closet—but it’s new. The tags were still on it and—”

“Lord, will you let her open the box before you tell her what’s inside?” Tasha asked.

It was a sleek black suit that looked like something Tamia would’ve picked out for herself. Attached to the collar was a little Post-It where Troy had written: M
Y
B
EST
S
UIT FOR
M
Y
B
ESTIE
.

“You’re both too much,” Tamia cried. “Too much.”

“We know. We know,” Tasha and Troy said together, taking turns providing each other applause.

After wiping her tears one last time, she looked up at the other gift boxes, still stacked and unopened and then back at her friends.

“What’s in those boxes?” she asked. “Other things for me? Did you guys get me a new boyfriend?”

“Um…no,” Tasha said frankly. “Those are for us. You didn’t think you were the only one getting gifts, did you?”



3T Tea Time: Three Pinkies Up

Don’t let the little girls have all the fun! Now that you can actually afford to upgrade from the plastic tea set you shared with your stuffed animals when you were five, call your girlfriends over for a high tea that’s sure to soothe the soul and reconnect your circle.

Set a date and send out formal invitations to your special affair.

Dos
:

1. Choose a theme: You can have a Victorian, Japanese, or Russian theme. The tea traditions of each culture will determine your decorations, menu, and assortment of teas.
   
2. Make a list and check it twice: In addition to your best friends, invite a new friend and consider having a special guest of honor—a local artist, someone new in town, or maybe a sisterfriend who just did something amazing.
   
3. Get fancy: Big hats and bold dresses will make the tea official and the photos amazing. For a Japanese theme, require kimonos and have someone there to do makeup. You all will laugh all afternoon.
   
4. Have conversation starters: Break the ice and get the talkers talking by having games, a featured book, or list of current affairs available for discussion and fun.
   
5. High or low: Be sure to let the ladies know if you are organizing a low (afternoon) or high (afternoon or supper time) tea. This will let them know what kinds of food to expect. Low tea commonly calls for light fare and dainty desserts. High tea can combine hearty dishes and delectable desserts.
   

Don’ts
:

1. Be afraid to laugh at yourself: Something will go wrong and something you thought would be so wonderful will be so…not wonderful. Laugh it off and learn for next time.
   
2. Overplan: Not every guest will want to play games. Be open to suggestions and changes in plans. If you have a special guest, ask if there’s something she would like.
   
3. Do it alone: Ask for help and make a list of assignments for your friends. Tea might sound easy, but it’s big business and letting someone else do the small stuff will allow you to focus on the bigger battles.
   
4. Spike the tea: Tea is meant for tasting. While some mixes call for alcohol, by and large the plants are to do their magic on a holistic level. If your guests must have the bubbly, plan a post-dessert champagne toast.
   

10

All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players….

—Jacques in William Shakespeare’s
As You Like It

W
hat most people forget about Jacques’s famous line in this aged tale is that he concludes that players in the unchanging setting of the world constantly enter and exit and change. Players don’t know when or why, but even as they play their own roles, they can be certain to learn that this is the truth.

So, on an old stage, in an old city, at a new age in her life, one player was learning that she wasn’t the best player after all. For she’d been upstaged, outsmarted, outperformed, and outacted by the one costar she could never leave behind—herself.

Tasha sat in the center of her beautiful world, with her beautiful things, looking more beautiful than she ever had in her life, yet there was an ugliness creeping in.

While she was surrounded with every new thing she’d wanted back from her old life, she kept thinking of the old things she was missing from her last life. It was Sunday night and the girls were probably just getting out of the tub. Toni was running around naked, giggling herself silly as her father chased her and Tiara was trying to find a way to get the powder bottle open again so she could dump the sweet-smelling talc all over the floor. Lionel was getting tired and probably noticed that Tiara had gotten the bottle open and snatched it just in time. The boring suburban house was growing quiet with the boring suburban night as the boring suburban family got ready for bed. In a while, they’d all be asleep. And the night, for Tasha in her new, amazing, and alive life in the big and bold city was just about to begin. There was so much to do and see where she was. So many places to go. Beautiful people to see. No naked babies or powder sticking to her feet. No crying and midnight feeding. No tired husband, vibrators, and runs to the airport. Her options were endless, but her mind was frozen in time.

“I need a glass of wine,” she said aloud, but she was speaking only to herself in the empty space of her apartment. There was silence. No response. Not even an echo of confirmation. She got up from her plush couch and walked to the refrigerator to retrieve what was left of her last bottle of white wine.

“Shit,” she shouted, looking at the space in the refrigerator where the bottle once was. She turned and looked at the trash can to see the empty bottle resting on the lid. She exhaled and banged the door shut.

Maybe she could call the 3Ts together for a drink. Maybe she could meet up with her new girls for tapas. Maybe she could…She went and sat on the wide windowsill that separated her apartment from the street. A group of laughing women walked past. A homeless man pushing a cart. A man on his cell phone, walking his dog.

“What did I do?” Tasha said to all of them, though none of them could hear her. “What did I do to my life? How could I leave my family?”

In the silence of the city night, this last question marked the beginning of this player’s grandest performance to date. In all of Tasha’s life, only three times had she thought to consider how her actions affected someone else: when she was ten years old and set her nanny’s car on fire, when she’d tripped a woman at a Barney’s sale, and when she’d secretly started fertility treatments without Lionel’s consent. Each time, Tasha had been so busy fighting for what she was getting, she cared nothing about what others actually got. The nanny was fired for leaving Tasha alone in the garage, the woman at Barney’s lost a tooth, and Lionel was forced to realize that he had no control over his wife.

“I’ll go back to therapy,” Tasha said when Lionel picked up the phone. She was still looking out the window when she pulled the phone from her pocket and pressed the speed dial option “Home.”

“What do you use to get this baby powder off of the floor?” Lionel asked. His voice was ragged with indecision and she knew he hadn’t heard what she’d said. She could hear Toni hollering and Tiara crying in the background. She smiled as a tear rolled down her cheek.

“Don’t use water,” Tasha said quickly. “That’ll make it worse. Get the broom and sweep.”

“I can’t leave them in the bathroom,” Lionel said.

“Put them in their cribs and tell Toni to sing ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.’ That’ll give you five minutes to get the broom and sweep up the powder.”

“Really? Wait a sec.”

There was movement, Toni was singing, and then Lionel was back on the phone.

“Now, what did you say?” Lionel asked as he swept.

“I said I’d go back to therapy,” Tasha repeated, her voice breaking on every word as she cried. “Whatever you want. I just want my family back. I need—”

“They need you,” Lionel stopped her as his feelings made his throat swell. “
I
need you.” This call wasn’t supposed to go this way. Lionel was supposed to be angry. In his mind, the next time his wife called, he was to request a divorce, tell her to come get her things, and find the nastiest thing he could say to make her feel the worst she ever had. But as the days went by and he was managing nannies and appointments and his life with the lives of his children, he saw just how hard Tasha’s job was. And sleeping alone in a big, wide bed made specially for him, he felt how lonely she must feel each night without him. As he played her role, he realized that much of what he’d hated her for, he could in some ways understand. She wasn’t right for leaving the way she had, but she wasn’t wrong for feeling the way she felt. In the images of his own beautiful life and beautiful family, the beautiful player Lionel had somehow forgotten to take care of one important thing—his beautiful wife.

“I know I need help. I’m fucking up,” Tasha said.

“I think we both have things we need to work on,” Lionel admitted. “But it’s going to take time and we have to commit ourselves to it this time. I accept you for who you are, Tasha. And I know you have your faults—I do too, but we have to be a team on this. For our family. Do you want that?”

“I’m nothing without you all. I don’t want anything else and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep us together. I love you,” Tasha pleaded.

And then, the player and the player’s wife were silent, as an ugly exit in their play was transitioning to a beautiful entrance that would surprise both of them for years to come. There was nothing else to be said. Everything they needed to hear was in the silence they felt.

“Hey,” Lionel said suddenly. “I have someone who wants to say something to you.”

“What?” Tasha asked.

“Hold on a sec.”

“Ma! Ma! Mama! Mama!”

“That’s right, baby. Say it again. Say it so she can hear you.”

“Mama!” There was a gurgle and then the word Tasha had wanted to hear for so long from the one person who seemed to refuse to say it, was repeated as clear as a bell in the wind.

“Mama. Mama.”

“You heard that?” Lionel asked, but Tasha couldn’t respond. She slid from the windowsill to the floor and was cradling her face in her hands as she wept. “Say it again, Toni. Say it for Mommy on the phone. That’s right! Your mommy is on the phone.”

“Mama,” the toddler said and this time even she herself wanted it to be clear that everyone could understand what she was saying. “Mama.”

“Yes, baby girl,” Tasha said, “it’s your mommy.”

“Mama,” Toni repeated and then she requested in the only way her two-year-old mind could what she wanted most. “Mama…home…home.”