Pouring himself a drink, William continued to listen listlessly. After all, he’d heard it all before.
“Look, William, if you can create and maintain one of the largest accounts for one of the largest, most prestigious import-export firms on the East Coast then you can certainly establish your own.”
“Right, Sill.” William sipped his drink smugly as Sill paid homage to his creative abilities and business acumen.
“Look at Magic.”
“Magic who?”
“Magic Johnson.”
“Oh, here we go again.” William was teasing her now and enjoying it. Sill, so adamant in her views, hardly realized.
“Magic Johnson led the Lakers to the championship, I don’t know how many times. A grown man running down the court in his boxers while millions watched. But Magic knew he was being used and grinned all the way to the bank. He was the one filling the Forum while owner, Jerry Buss was filling his pockets. But Magic was no Michael. He had the foresight and the common sense to get a piece of the pie. Now he’s part owner of the Lakers.
He’s got someone runnin’ up and down the court for him now. And the sneakers he endorses are his own. He owns the company. Now everyone knows that Magic ain’t no rocket scientist. Remember his talk show? But at least he has the good sense to realize his own self-worth. I said all that to say that there is no reason you shouldn’t be looking for a piece of Hill and Morris, a partnership, William, or even better, your own firm.”
William had heard enough.
“All that’s fine until we hit hard times. I open my own company, the market changes and for the first time in your life you can’t shop the way you want, the way you’re used to shopping, then we’ll see how all your liberal self-help principles stand up. Take away those T-bone steaks and taters you’re so fond of and we’ll see what those little tight-fittin’ outfits got to hang onto. Take away the T.V., stereo, getting your hair and nails done once a week and you’ll be one evil Black woman. All those little things add up. The washer, the dryer, and all the other things you take for granted now are all that separate you from all the rest of those old beat up nags with no money and no man. So don’t tell me anything about Hill and Morris when you’re steady reaping the benefits from them. The house you live in, the car you drive, the food you stick in your big ol’ liberal mouth and settles on those big, broad liberal hips of yours are all the result of Hill and Morris, thank you very much.” William was visibly shaking now but his anger did little to deter Sill.
“Wait just one goddamn minute, William Stanton,” Sill was standing and on the verge of screaming now. “I have lived off of my own salary and it has been that little meager teacher salary that has paid for my car note and our food since we’ve been married. I took care of myself before I met you and will continue to do so when you’re dead and gone. And as far as needing washers and dryers and fancy cars to boost my self-esteem, let me tell you one thing, since you wanna be ‘lil Clarence Thomas. I have enough pride in myself that I don’t have to buy a German-made car or Italian-made suits to feel good about myself. And as far as these liberal lips and hips are concerned, you didn’t say a word last night when you were running around here panting like a dog in heat tryin’ to get next to these ol’ broad hips.”
William was truly agitated. How long had it been since they’d slept in the same room, let alone the same bed? Her continual rejection was a source of much of his frustration, if not most of it.
“Damn, woman! I’m so tired of that ol’ tired-assed sixties bullshit, I don’t know what to do. You’re the same type of nigga I went to school with that was in one semester and out the next. Steady talkin’ that backdoor, back-alley, liberal bullshit. All of them niggas together didn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. Runnin’ ‘round campus talkin’ ‘bout how they wouldn’t have been no slave. Picture that. If we’d all acted like that there wouldn’t be any of us here now. Same niggas are back at home right now slavin’ at McDonald’s and still talkin’ about what they gonna do and what they not gonna do. Simple ass, hypocritical niggas, talkin’ about makin’ some damn changes in the system. How much change you gonna be able to make, makin’ five and a quarter an hour. And like it or not somebody’s gotta still get out there and shuffle today so that our children can see a better day tomorrow. I do it for you and I do it for them goddammit. You better be steppin’ and fetchin’, and shufflin’too if you expect to be in a position to give somethin’ back. Shit, talk is cheap.
How many niggas are out there reciting that liberal bullshit are actually in a position to give dollars? With all your ideas and lofty ambitious how many of your young and gifted students have you put through school? Hell, you can’t even pay your own way! Sure, you prepare them but preparing them isn’t paying their tuition. C’mon, talk to me, baby! What’s your claim to fame? What? The best prepared college students at Mickey D’s.”
Sill had never seen William this angry before.
“All I’m trying to say is that-”
“You ain’t sayin’ nothin!” William, his rage and frustration obvious, cut her off. “You can’t tell me a damn thing. Not a damn thing. Nothin’. At least nothin’ I ain’t heard before. I know what Black people had to endure in order to get where they are. I’m living proof. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Look, William,” she said, “I applaud your contributions to—what is it? The United Negro College Fund? But damn, so does George Bush and right now I don’t see a whole lotta difference. Here you are siphoning millions of dollars from Lagos, from poor people so your ass can drive around in a brand new Mercedes. You’re making close to a hundred grand a year. You donate five of that because your accountant tells you that you need a tax write-off and you’ve got the nerve, the gall, to think you’ve done your part. When in reality, you haven’t done a damn tiling when you turn around and make a donation to the Republican Party. Shit! You’ve just negated any contribution you’ve made to the United Negro College Fund.
Hell, if my granddaddy knew I’d married a Republican and a Black Republican to boot he would turn over in his grave. How many of them are you altogether? Five? Doesn’t that tell something? You might as well get a rope and just start hangin’ the brothas yourself. You ain’t any better than what’s his name? The senator from your home state, what’s his name? That Thurmond from South Carolina. Yeah, Strom Thurmond or that so-called black Lieutenant Governor from Maryland.”
Logical, persuasive, cunning, Sill was in her element now. Never having seen him this angry, Sill reached for William’s hand but this only angered him more.
“Look! If you really wanna do something, William, something for me, for the community then stop parading around here in your expensive car, and your extravagant home on the hill and your ‘ready for every occasion’ woman and your I-got mine-get-yours attitude that don’t say nothin’ except that I sho’ is glad to be up on the hill wit’ you good white folks. It’s just sad. You are really sad, William.
And by the way since we’re on the subject of things I’m tired of, another thing I’m tired of is you thinking that I belong to you, that I’m just another one of your possessions. Truth of the matter is, I’m good for you and if you haven’t figured that out, just ask your lily-white counterparts down at the agency. They know it. They respect me even if they don’t agree with my politics but they’ll never respect you because they recognize you for what you are and that’s a goddamn puppet. A fuckin’ sell-out.
When you get to Nigeria and look into the eyes of some those that are less fortunate than you, ask yourself one question. Ask yourself,
‘What price fame?’
Why, you’re no better than the African who sold his brother and sisters into bondage for some damn trinkets.”
Sill threw the pastrami sandwich down, marched into the kitchen, pulled out a tray of ice scattering it everywhere in her haste and anger and reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels. Empty, it dawned on her that she’d finished it days ago. “Silly, nigga,” she muttered not really caring whether he heard her or not.
“What did you call me? Silly nigga?” William was livid “This silly nigga who takes care of your fat Black ass knows one thing. You’re gonna pick up every bit of that goddamn ice you got all over the floor.”
“Fat Black ass? Tell me! Please tell me you didn’t say that. My ass wasn’t too fat last night when you were trying to get next to it.”
“Sill trust me. You’re not all that you think you are, in or out of bed.”
Sill not to be out done but knowing that she was wasting her time simply replied, “You know what they say, William. One man’s garbage is another man’s gold.”
William was out for blood now and Sill realizing this regained her composure. After all, there was no reason to make matters worse. William was lost. Hopeless.
“I think its best we don’t say anything else to each other tonight, William. This is obviously something that’s been brewing awhile. Perhaps I’m just not what you need at this juncture in your life. Maybe your trip will do us both some good. It’ll give us some time to think.” Sill was sure William would reconsider taking Ol’ Man Morris’ offer now.
William, though thrown for a curve by Sill’s latest barrage also managed to regain his composure.
“Look Sill, a lot of things were said in anger that probably shouldn’t have been said, but let’s not be hasty.”
There was little question of William’s love for his wife and the thought of separating on these terms was more than William bargained for. Repeating his travel plans, Sill was stunned by William’s sudden stubbornness.
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, William Stanton.” And on that note Sylvia grabbed her keys, her pocketbook and was out of the door.
“Don’t do this, Sylvia!” William pleaded. “Don’t!”
Sylvia walked towards the garage door, backed the ten-year-old Ford down the long u-shaped drive way, through the wrought iron fence, ignoring William’s desperate pleas.
In her rush to leave, she’d forgotten her cigarettes. Relieved and alone and realizing that she had absolutely nowhere to go, Sill stopped at the local convenience store grabbed a pack of
Newport’s
and a
Pepsi
and made her way back to the car.
Sill thought of her last visit to the bank and the encounter with the ever so debonair Mr. Davis and immediately began the search for his business card. Finding it tucked away ever so neatly in the corner of her purse she paged the number printed on the front. Waiting for the call back, she realized she hadn’t seen his son Stephan in school since last semester when classes were switched over. She tried calling Edwin again but there was still no answer. Her banker and real-estate broker Edwin was the divorced, single-parent of two of her brightest students and a fellow church member. Financially secure, he’d always made it plain that any time she came to her senses and had the good sense to leave William he’d be there to pick up the pieces.
Two teenage boys, sporting beginner dreadlocks and those baggy jeans she just couldn’t get used to, be-bopped over to the phone. She started to head over to the phone to tell them she was waiting for a call and then hesitated. William would never have permitted this. A similar situation had occurred on their way to Maryland a few years ago.
William had driven around in circles for what seemed like forever in search of a phone booth because he refused to ask a young Black man how long he would be on the phone. “Too many crazy people out there. They’d just as soon shoot you as say ‘hello’,” he’d told her as they rode around in circles lost looking for an empty phone booth. She made it a point to pick up a cell phone the very next day but hardly ever remembered to bring it with her. She cursed William again to herself as she stepped out of the car and approached the young man. “Excuse me sir, I’m waiting for a call.”
The teenager spun around with looks to kill. His scowl melted almost as soon as he glanced at Sill. “Lord, have mercy! You say you need to use the phone?” he questioned, looking at her up and down, devouring her with his eyes.
“Yes, sir, I’m waiting for a call.”
The young man hung the phone up, almost immediately. “No problem, mommy. No problem at all. Anything else I can help you with?”
“Thanks but no thanks, poppy.” Sill smiled at the boyish attempts at flirtation. She waited another five minutes or so still glancing at the young men, now just standing there waiting, laughing, as only idle young men do. Sill headed for the car. As she did, one of the young men remarked loud enough for her to hear. “If he could see what I’m seeing, mommy, he would be the one calling.”
Sill smiled, self-consciously. In her haste to get out of the house or better yet away from William, Sill did little more than put on some lipstick. She still wore the sheer blue Danskin stretch pants, cut-off t-shirt and navy blue heels. Not in a million years would she have considered wearing an outfit like this out in public. It was just a little somethin’ somethin’ she threw on to keep his libido on high. She cursed William again before donning the navy blue blazer she kept in the back seat of the car to cover some of her nakedness. Lighting a cigarette, she emptied the ashes from the ashtray and returned to the phone booth. Leafing through her phone book, Sylvia considered going back home, knowing full well her stubborn pride would not permit her to.
Terrance Daniels didn’t usually entertain on school nights. In fact, he rarely entertained at all anymore. Most, if not all of the women he dated in the last year or so left something to be desired. He hated to generalize, but the fact of the matter was, the attractive women rarely worked on anything besides being attractive and the ones he could hold meaningful conversations with did little or nothing for his libido. He was still wondering what it took to get the whole package. Countless dates later he’d given up trying to answer that question altogether.
And the only reason Laura Harrington gained entrance on this rainy night was that his neighbor Marcy who lived in the townhouse a few doors down called to ask if he had today’s newspaper and not wanting to see her walking at night he’d met her halfway. Standing outside watching to make sure she got home safely he noticed a car pulling up in his guest parking spot and as soon as he saw those legs that seemed to never stop getting out of the car he knew that it could only be one person and one person only with legs so long and so shapely as those now striding towards him.