All That Drama (23 page)

I
t had been three months since Kendall had died and I still had not heard from Sammie. When I arrived at my door one day, Sammie had left a potted plant on my porch with a note. When I saw it, I thought that Norman had left it so I immediately carried it into the house. It was a pot of tulips that I could plant in my yard, and my heart swelled at his thoughtfulness. But when I read the card I discovered it was from Sammie. I fought the urge to throw them in the trash. Sammie hadn’t even sent me a thank-you card for burying her only daughter.

The note read, “I messed up. I never had a friend before so I did not know how to treat you. I took your friendship for granted and probably ruined the best part of my life. I don’t know how I can make it without you. I was totally wrong bringing that fool into your house, especially since you were doing me a favor by letting me stay there, coupled with the fact that I knew you hated his ass. In hindsight, I can see where I was wrong and will understand if you don’t forgive me but I still have to ask, can you forgive me? I am truly sorry and I miss you. I Love You, Sammie.”

She didn’t even mention Kendall,
I thought. Knowing Sammie like I did, she was probably still in denial. I was still touched by her letter and truth be told, I missed her, too. We had not spoken in over a year and a half and even though I still hated what she did, I was willing to let that go.

Sammie didn’t give me a chance to figure out what I was going to do because she called me as I was wiping away the trail of tears that had slipped down my cheeks. I reached for the phone and pulled it to my ear without even looking at the caller ID. I could hear Sammie crying in the background.

“Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn,” I exclaimed. “What did you do, camp out across the street to see when I got the flowers?” I asked her angrily. She caught me in a vulnerable moment and I did not want to talk to her when I was weak. I still needed answers ’cause in my heart I believed that if she were a real friend, she never would have done what she did.

“Not really. I was parked around the corner and followed you to the house. I saw you pick up the flowers and gave you enough time to read the letter and decided to phone you just in case you had a change of heart. I don’t think my heart could have withstood your hanging up on me so I just came over. I am so sorry.” She sniffled.

“You still didn’t tell me why,” I quietly said. A lot of time had passed since Sammie had brought that asshole over my house, but it still hurt. Then it dawned on me, “Came over?”

“Yeah, I’m outside,” she replied. She continued speaking on the phone even though she was on my front porch. I was not ready to face her yet so I did not open the door.

“Marie, you had it all and a large part of me was jealous,” she continued. “I let Dickweed get into my head and I figured if I let him think that I had it going on like you do, he would stop treating me like some cheap-ass trick!”

“Did it help and was it worth it?” I assumed that was why Sammie had chosen to do what she did, but it was still painful to think that she had brought that low-down dirty bastard into my house.

“No, it didn’t; he just ridiculed me even more. Marie, I need for you to believe me. I never knew that I was jealous of you until I stopped at your house instead of mine. It was not a premeditated thought. As we were driving, I told him that I moved and that I wanted him to see my new place. I did not want him to know that my lights had been cut off or that I was living in the same old one-bedroom dump, so I brought him to your house.”

“But what about the children, Sammie; didn’t you even think about how they would feel!” I shouted angrily. “Shit, my children were young but yours…how could you?”

“Marie, if I could go back and rewrite the script of that day, I would, but the bottom line is I can’t. I will have to live with the consequences of that day for the rest of my life. I lost both of my children and the only friend that I ever had! I have been through extensive therapy and I feel like I am ready to be a friend; that is, if you let me,” she declared.

She was opening up a canister of emotions that I hadn’t felt since Kendall had died. Part of me wanted to run screaming from the room but the other part of me needed to know what drove her to do the things that she did. I needed to understand why her fourteen-year-old daughter had to die and her son had to run off to the military. I also wanted to know who the hell the short blind guy was who came to the hospital.

I was not going to beat a dead horse. The things that happened before that night were water under the bridge and nothing could be done to change them. Switching subjects, I asked, “Why were your lights out in the first place?”

“That requires a cup of coffee. Can an old friend get some?” she asked.

I opened the door but told her that this did not mean that I had forgiven her. She said she understood where I was coming from. We went into the kitchen and I put the water on to boil. I got down two cups and put two blueberry muffins in the microwave.

“Malcolm was in jail. I was hiding that from you,” she began. I sat down at the table to hear her story.

“He claimed that his truck got searched and they found drugs in it. He said that he used a friend’s rig ’cause his was in the shop and didn’t check it. He was calling me collect several times a day and my phone was about to be cut off.”

“Damn,” I said, shaking my head.

“I used the light-bill money to pay the phone. To make matters worse, all the checks that he had been giving me turned out to be stolen. He had me giving him my cash and he would write checks for me. It all came crashing down on me at once,” she said as tears fell down her face.

“Damn, girl, you get your ass in more shit!” I said to her. “So where is Malcolm now?” I asked.

“He is still in jail. I pressed charges against him after I found out about the checks. They were about to evict me ’cause my rent checks bounced, too.”

“Is he still calling you collect?” I asked.

“Nah, he stopped,” she said, laughing. Sammie never stopped amazing me with her antics. I had not forgiven her yet but we were talking and that was a start.

“Oh, where is your husband?”

“We had it annulled. I damn near broke his leg when I fell on him!” she said howling. We both fell over on the table laughing.

“That shit was too funny. Was he blind?” I asked with tears rolling down my face.

“Yep,” she said, still laughing.

I filled Sammie in on some details of my life with Norman.

“So are you all in love?” she asked.

“I’m in; put it like that. He is great with the kids and is such a compassionate and caring man.”

“You’re in luv, child. I can see it on your face,” she said and we both laughed. This felt good joking with Sammie again.

I
was on my way out the house rushing to get to work when the phone rang, thinking that Norman was calling back with some last-minute term of endearment. I answered. I was wrong. It was Sammie.

“Gurl, I’m glad I caught you. They let Jessie out of jail last night,” she said.

“Oh shit! How did you find out and why the fuck did they let him go?” I screamed.

“He appealed his case and the officers could not produce the drugs that he had when he was arrested. They had to throw the case out for lack of evidence. The prosecuting attorney called me saying I had a right to know.” I could tell by the tone of Sammie’s voice that she was scared. I was, too, but not for myself, only for her.

“Has he called you?” I inquired.

“He can’t; my phone is turned off again.”

“Thank God for small favors,” I said. The kids were pulling my hand and I really needed to go but I was still curious. “Wait, I don’t understand. How did the attorney get you if your phone is off?”

“My phone was not turned off until this morning; he left a message last night. I did not get it until this morning and when I tried to call you, I found out that it was not working. I used my cell phone to call and check my messages,” she said.

“Where are you calling me from?”

“I am at the gas station around the corner from the house.”

“You should get your number changed,” I said.

“Yeah, you are so right. I think I will do that. I’m also going to buy a gun!” She laughed but I could feel her fear.

“Damn.” That was all that I could think to say. I didn’t want her toting a gun ’cause her silly ass might fuck up and shoot her own self but I could not say anything.

“Watch your back, girl,” she said, as she was ready to hang up.

“Why should I have to watch my back?” I asked, not quite catching the connection.

“He blames you for my divorcing him,” she said.

“Wait, hold the fuck up? Why the hell does he think that I had something to do with that? Look, I can’t talk right now. I really got to get on the expressway before I-20 gets backed up. Give me a couple of hours and call me at work, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll call you when I get back from the phone company.”

“Damn. More fucking drama,” I said to myself as I hung up the phone.

I was upset but in my heart I did not feel that Jessie was a threat to me unless Sammie was at my house when he decided to make his move on her. I was nervous but the nigga would have to be straight-up crazy to fuck with me so soon after being released from jail. I would make sure that if the nigga so much as breathed on me he would go to jail and stay there!

I was so anxious waiting for Sammie to call me, I could hardly concentrate on my work. Every time my phone rang I jumped to get it as if my secretary could possibly know what was going on in my personal life. I went to great measures to keep my private life just that—private.

She took her sweet time calling, too; it was almost 3:00 before she got back to me. She said that it took her all afternoon to get a gun permit and she had to prove that she knew how to use it. I wanted to cut to the chase and find out why she thought that Jessie would come anywhere near me.

“Jessie claims that I would have never had the nerve to divorce him unless you put me up to it. He used to say that when I was accepting his calls, that that bitch was going to get hers.” I had prayed that he had gotten Sammie and the drugs out of his system while he was in jail and had been smart enough to pick up the threads of his life and leave the both of us alone.

When I got home from work, Norman’s car was in the driveway. I did not see him sitting on the porch. I opened the door and could hear the TV blaring in the living room. That was when I remembered the key. That nigga had crossed two lines at one time. One, he came over without calling and I thought back to our conversation of the night before and realized, with a sinking feeling, that I never did get around to telling him that I didn’t play that drop-by unannounced or uninvited shit!

He was stretched out on my sofa as if he made the monthly payments on it. He had taken off his shoes and socks and they were lying on the living-room floor. I guess the nigga wasn’t full-blown crazy, just a tad touched in the head! He didn’t even bother to get up; he just hollered at me, “Hey, baby,” and continued to watch the
Jerry Springer Show.
Little did he know that if he didn’t get his funky feet off my white sofa, it was about to be a Jerry Springer show right in my living room!

“What are you doing here? I don’t remember
inviting
you over here tonight,” I said. I stood directly in front of him blocking his view of the television.

He raised his eyebrows and gave me this crazy look like I had switched the script and didn’t tell him about the revisions.

“You gave me the key,” he stuttered.

I waited until the kids went upstairs before I answered him. They did not have to hear what I was about to say. I really didn’t need this shit given the bad day that I had had. I prayed for strength and wisdom from God. I asked God to help me so that I would be able to phrase what I had to say to Norman in a diplomatic way.

“Norman, look, I let you use my key the time you were here so you could lock up ’cause I was too tired to come down and do it myself. It was not to be used at will like a gold card with expanded privileges. Please don’t take this the wrong way, ’cause I like you, but you still need to respect me enough to call me before you come over, and you also need to return my key.”

He flinched and put both his feet on the floor. He started looking around for his shoes and socks as if he were going to leave, which was fine by me ’cause I needed to set him straight before it got too far out of control.

“You know what, girl, your ass is a trip! Just when I think I understand you and we start to click, you throw a monkey wrench in the works. I don’t understand you,” he said as he was lacing up his shoes.

He was mad and made no attempt to hide it. I knew that I was losing this fight but because it was so important to me, I just kept coming.

“I don’t see what is so hard to understand. Yes, we are dating but we aren’t married. I don’t just drop by your house and you can’t just come dropping by mine. It’s a matter of showing respect. Hell, they did not give me the key to this place until I started making monthly payments on this bitch, so what makes you think that you can have a key?”

Uh-oh. I knew that I pushed the bar with that last remark but I was tired of pussyfooting around the issue. It was a bad day that was steadily getting worse.

“Oh, so this shit is about money; you want me to pay your rent, is that it?” he angrily declared.

“Hell no, I don’t want you paying my
mortgage.
Get it right, nigga; it ain’t rent. I can pay my own damn bills but you need to respect the fact that this is my house and you are just a visitor. And visitors get invited, you get it!” I was doing everything I could to keep my voice down but with all his slamming and shuffling, it was clear to my kids that we were fighting.

That’s the part that I hated the most. My kids had already been through the drama of all that fighting when my ex and I were together. They did not have to go through that shit again and neither did I for that matter. If Simple Simon could not comprehend why I needed my privacy that was his problem, not mine. Fortunately, the kids did not come downstairs while we were fussing. Norman was busy collecting the shit that he had spread out in the living room and shooting me evil glances. At the door, he said to me over his shoulder that I was making it real difficult. He shut the door and it took me a full two seconds before I realized that he did not give me my key back.

I ran out the door at break-neck speed and managed to catch him before he cleared the subdivision. He must have thought that I had come after him to beg him to return, but I just held out my hand. Slowly comprehension dawned on him as to why I was really there and it showed on his face. He threw his car into park, turned off the ignition and took my key off his ring. I looked at his ring while he was fumbling with the keys trying to find out if a copy had been made, but I could not really tell. I made a mental note to replace the lock with a deadbolt that could be locked from the outside so that I would never have to wonder about that.

Before he left I tried to explain why I had to be the way that I was. Right there in the middle of the street, I told him that my ex-husband had taken me through the ringer about the key to my house. I let him have it one day when he had to bring the kids home early while I was still at work. He stayed until I got home but would not return my key. For months, I had to put up with him showing up in my bedroom after I had gone to sleep. I told him that I would not go through that shit again. If he understood my position he did not reveal it to me. He pealed off down the street burning rubber, leaving me to only assume that he was through with me.

Once I got back inside I had to have a long conversation with myself to determine whether or not I was right to nip that shit in the bud or let it continue. I concluded that hell yeah, I was right and if the motherfucker could not deal with it, fuck him! I went in and checked on the kids. They were going about their normal daily routines but they appeared to be subdued and distant. I could tell without questioning them, that they had overheard the argument between Norman and me. It was rough to be a single custodial parent ’cause your life was laid open like a book for your children to judge.

Although I thought I did a good job of keeping the petty shit away from them, lately it seemed like I was losing control. I decided it was time for a family meeting. I did not know what was happening between Norman and me, but I wanted them to know that they were secure.

“Family meeting in my bedroom in ten minutes,” I yelled up the stairs loud enough for both of them to hear. I stopped by the phone and switched on the answering machine ’cause I wanted to talk to my kids without being interrupted.