My Daughter's Boyfriend (8 page)

“Under this roof, blah, blah, blah. Hey, I heard it all before. You ain’t telling me nothing new. But this is life, Charisse. Most teens banging, you know?”

“Doesn’t mean you have to do it because everybody else is.”

Regis sighed and rolled her eyes. I felt sorry for her. It wasn’t often people stood up to her antics, especially when she was around several of her friends.

In a gentle voice, Justine asked, “Do you use protection, Regis?”

“I ain’t dumb. I always make Sporty put that body bag on.”

Zoe’s eyes widened. “Well, what if he forgets? You not on birth control?”

“You on crack? My momma would stab me if she found some birth-control pills around here that ain’t got her name on ’em.”

“So,” Charisse said in a soft but firm voice, “Ms. Collier doesn’t know you’re having sex, and she wouldn’t approve, would she?”

“You know, I’m about to throw your corny ass out my house, Charisse. I
told
my momma not to invite you. Charisse Youngblood, the moral conscience of New Territory subdivision.”

Charisse lowered her head and whispered, “Sorry.”

Justine spoke up. “Okay, Regis, chill out. We’re just talking. Charisse, I don’t know you very well, but you seem like a concerned friend. The reality is that it’s too late for Regis and Sporty to go back to hand-holding.”

Regis’s cheeks spread out into a grin. “Thank you, my sista.”

“But on the other hand,” Justine said, looking straight at Regis, “with HIV and stuff, doing the do these days is no game, you hear what I’m saying?”

Regis’s smile disappeared. “Chile, quit tripping. I ain’t no lesbo. Plus I’m only fifteen. I can’t catch no disease like HIV.”

“Look here, Miss Smartass. Age doesn’t matter. The number of people who are infected is increasing, especially with heterosexual African-American females.”

I wanted to smile but didn’t. And inside, my heart was screaming,
Go
Justy!

Zoe joined in. “Regis, Justy’s right. That killer disease doesn’t care how young you are or the fact that your butt prefers dick.”

Since the others had spoken, I felt safe adding, “I heard that.” Hell, why should I be afraid to speak up? Right was right, wrong was wrong. Even though this crew seemed like a bunch of nut cases, I was relieved a couple of them seemed to have some sense, that they weren’t totally out there. Maybe they could influence Regis. Maybe.

Even Lia pumped her fist. “I heard that, too. Preach, Justy and Zoe.” Hope just looked and listened for the longest, not saying a word. With her furrowed brow and serious look, she didn’t seem like her usual smart-aleck self. I wanted to ask her if she used protection, but didn’t think it would be a good idea.

Our teenaged voices became murmurs for a while, whispering as we thought about what Justine had said. Listening to her, in a way I was glad I hadn’t start having sex yet. I mean, I wanted to, but it seemed too complicated. Besides, it was one thing to hear my mother give me her warnings of sexual doom and quite another to hear it coming from my peers. But even though I wanted to be cautious, not just because of diseases I didn’t understand and babies I didn’t want, even so, I yearned to be with Aaron, if only just to have him snuggled next to my side. Holding hands and helping me to feel protected at a moment when I didn’t feel all that sure anymore. Yet with all my desire, I knew that when I finally did decide to have sex, it would be for the right reasons, and at the right time.

Tracey 10

It was approximately one o’clock on Sunday, my normal
day to wash clothes. I had lugged a few baskets of dirty laundry to the complex’s on-site washateria. By the time I’d started a few loads and eased my way back toward the apartment, Lauren had returned home from the sleep-over. She was standing on the second-floor landing in front of our apartment door and inserting her key when she spotted me.

“Hi, Mom,” she called.

As soon as we made eye contact I stopped walking. I felt my face warm by several degrees. I allowed myself to walk up the stairs before I answered her.

“H-hey, didn’t know you got back.”

“Yeah, Miss Indira took home Justine, then she dropped me off. What’s for dinner?” She entered the apartment and plunked her duffel bag on the floor next to the fireplace.

“Oh, I haven’t cooked a thing. Mmmm. Maybe we could have dinner at Luby’s,” I suggested.

“Bet,” she said, and disappeared into her bedroom. Soon I heard the bumpity-bump of music blasting from her room. For once I didn’t mind how loud it was.

I scoped our apartment and it seemed untidy. Grabbing a broom, I furiously started sweeping the kitchen. Whish, whish, whish, I was calling all dirt from the corners of my kitchen. Was so absorbed in what I was doing that I didn’t notice Lauren standing in the doorway looking at me. She clutched Aaron’s black leather jacket in her hand.

“Aaron came to see me yesterday?”

“What? He left his jacket, huh?” I asked, blushing and hoping I was a pro at looking surprised.

She pressed the jacket against her nose and sniffed.

“Mmmm, smells just like him, too. I miss my honey. Gotta give him a call,” she replied, heading toward the phone.

“I wonder why he rolled by,” she yelled from the living room. “I told him I was going to the sleep-over. Guess he didn’t believe me, huh?”

I busied myself sweeping the nasty dirt into the filthy dustpan. I really needed a new dustpan. Maybe I could run to Wal-Mart real quick, before all the church folks got out of worship service.

“Hmmm! Mom, I see he called yesterday, too.”

Damn caller ID. I could’ve choked my own neck for not remembering to delete incoming calls like any normal person would.

It seems like when you’re caught up, your mind isn’t thinking about all the evidence that could link you to a certain indiscretion. And even though I didn’t believe Aaron and I had done too much to feel ashamed about, guilt shook its finger at me.

She returned to the kitchen holding the portable phone.

“You must not have been here when he called, or else why would he come over? He must’ve really wanted something. But I just got through calling him and there’s no answer. Mom, could we skip Luby’s? I’ll just boil a few hot dogs. I want to stick around in case my honey calls.”

I didn’t speak or look at her when I dumped the kitchen’s dirt into the garbage container. Too much damned housework to pay attention to what she was saying.

Lauren retreated to her bedroom. I heard the thumping bass of the radio blast even louder.

Dr. Dre was sounding good to me.

For once rap music sounded real good.

WHEN THE DOORBELL RANG AROUND
four o’clock that afternoon, I headed straight for the main bathroom and grabbed three magazines on my way. The commode in the master bedroom wasn’t working properly, so Lauren’s bathroom would have to do. I slammed and locked the door. The lid was down and I sat on the stool like it was a chair. I skimmed through a couple pages of
Today’s Black Woman,
but when I heard Lauren’s voice nearing the bathroom, I sat up and opened the lid. I pulled down my panties, sat on the toilet, and grunted.

“Hey, Mommy, Aaron’s here. We’re going on the balcony, in case you’re wondering where I am.”

“Ugh, okay, Lauren,” I called out. As soon as she left, my stomach started hurting for real. Mild diarrhea. Couldn’t believe it. My prolonged visit to the bathroom lasted about thirty minutes. Would’ve stayed longer but I heard a sharp knock on the door.

“Ms. Davenport?”

Damn! What did he want?

I squeezed my thighs together. “I’m indisposed right now.”

“Well, I need to use it as soon as you’re finished, please, ma’am.”

“Be right out,” I said, and rolled my eyes like he could see through wood.

I flushed the toilet and nearly injured my finger trying to force-spray the last of some peach-scented air freshener. I raked my nails through my uncombed hair and wished I had my makeup kit so I could apply some mascara and eyeliner. It wasn’t until I found myself searching through the medicine cabinet that I shuddered.

What the hell was I doing? How had things gotten to this point? It had to be the fact that Lauren was there, walking around in the same spots that Aaron and I had graced nearly twelve hours before. Yep, that had to be it. Her presence was my reminder, my nudger, and I wasn’t exactly thrilled at how that felt.

I took a deep breath and unlocked the door.

Aaron was leaning against the wall when I came out. His calm look didn’t match my frenzied one.

“Hey, uh, I wouldn’t go in there just yet if I were you.” I half-smiled.

“That’s all right. I know how to pinch my nose,” he commented, and glided past me.

When I heard him sniff and then dramatically suck in his breath, I nearly hit the floor. I put some pep in my step and headed for my bedroom.

Stayed there a good ten minutes until I remembered my clothes were still sitting inside three washing machines. Because a pair of my jammies and some body towels had been stolen from the washateria in the past, I knew I’d better get my butt downstairs before it happened again.

When I came out, Aaron was sitting on the couch. He stood up and rushed to my side. I kept walking toward the kitchen and squatted to grab the box of fabric-softener sheets from the cabinet underneath the sink.

“What up with you, Miss Lady?” he said, his eyes finding mine.

I shook my head in an abrupt way.

I saw the pain in his eyes, and it touched the weakness of my heart. “Where’s Lauren?” I inquired gently.

“Taking a shower. She wants me to drive her to Wal-Mart, then she wants to get some dessert.”

“Dessert? From where?” I asked, mildly curious.

“I dunno.” He hesitated. “You wanna join us?”

“Aaron, what is your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem. But maybe you do.”

“Look,” I said, not so nicely, “last night is the past. Don’t ask me to join you on a date with my daughter.”

“Tracey, are you asking me to choose between you and her?”

“I’m not asking you to do anything except use your common sense.”

“Don’t think with my little head?” he said with a slight edge.

I headed past him out the apartment and ran steps two at a time until I reached the washateria. I unloaded the three washers and tossed the damp clothes in several dryers. I almost went into cardiac arrest when I looked up and saw Aaron standing in the doorway.

“Aaron, what—what are you
doing?
Where’s Lauren?”

“Would you calm down? You act like it’s illegal for me to talk to you. Just came to tell you that we’re leaving now. Lauren’s waiting in the car.”

Just looking at him standing there, so near yet seeming so far, my heart was touched.

“Well, how long have you been standing there?” I asked, my voice and legs trembling.

“Calm down . . .
Tracey Lorraine
.”

I didn’t like how he said my name, but I couldn’t chastise him because he left. The sound of burning rubber did not go unnoticed.

I knew he was angry, and I knew exactly why.

Aaron 11

“Aaron, I know you like driving fast, but you can’t be
in that damn big a hurry,” was the first stream of badgering that flowed from Lauren’s mouth. Then it was, “Hey, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think we just ran a red light; not really sure, though, ’cause it was like ‘whoosh,’ you know what I’m saying?” she squealed looking behind us like HPD was on my jock. Her feet were set rigidly against the floor of the car, both her hands braced against the console.

I didn’t answer. Instead I gripped the steering wheel tighter, as if it were the source of my frustration. If Lauren was looking for me to slow down, she’d better keep looking. My nerves clashed against her wails of “What’s wrong with you?” As soon as we pulled into a parking space at Wal-Mart, Lauren hopped out of the car without waiting for me to open her door. She stomped toward the store entrance and failed to confirm whether I was following or not, so I remained in the car. I reached for my cell phone and punched some buttons.

“Hello.”

“Tracey, it’s me again,” I said, feeling soothed by her raspy voice. Even though she had frustrated me only moments before, I still felt compelled to connect with her.

“Aaron? Wh—?”

“Hey, don’t mean to bugaboo ya, but have you thought about when we’re going to have that little chat?” I pressed, asking her the first thing I could think of.

“I can’t say I have, Aaron. Where’s Lauren?”

Lauren this. Lauren that.

“I’m in the car, she’s in the store,” I said, unenthused, like I was announcing the price of salt.

“Aaron, this is too dangerous. I don’t like this at all. I’m about to hang up.” Her words were crisp and filled with panic.

Panicky was the last thing I wanted Tracey to be.

“Hold up a sec. L-let’s hook up Wednesday night.”

“Why Wednesday?”

“Lauren has clarinet rehearsals. It would be a great time for us to get away.”

“Gosh, Aaron. I feel like we’re sneaking around behind her back, and we haven’t even done anything.”

The future had never looked so bright.

I paused. “It’s all very innocent, Tracey. We just need to talk. I want to tell you a few things.”

“Oh yeah?” She hesitated for a moment, then replied, “Well, o-okay. We—we can get together.”

I exhaled and responded with a quick “Where?”

“You tell me.”

“Meet me at the Golden Corral on the Northwest Freeway.”

“Why so far?”

I didn’t say anything.

“Okay,” she told me. “Wednesday at Golden Corral. Six o’clock?”

“I’ll be there, Tracey. Hope you will, too.” I disconnected the call, but kept on the power. Not that I thought she’d call me back. At least I didn’t expect her to that night.

LAUREN BEGGED ME TO TAKE HER
to the House of Pies, a restaurant and pie shop that sells fruit pies, cream pies, cheesecake, and other delights. Since I have a bit of a sweet tooth, I agreed. The moment we left Wal-Mart’s parking lot, Lauren rambled on and on about the slumber party.

“Aaron, you should have been there. Oops, well, you know what I’m trying to say. That Regis Collier is a trip. I don’t see how her momma takes it.”

“Oh yeah?” I murmured.

“Th-they were talking about sex a lot. A
whole
lot.”

“And you’re saying that to say what?” I asked, flashing a hardened look.

“I—I don’t know. Just making conversation.”

“No you’re not, Lauren.”

“Well, how do you know that, Aaron? Gosh, you’re salty tonight. What happened yesterday? Ever since you came over, it’s like you’re acting too weird.” She kneaded her forehead over and over again. Mumbled so low I couldn’t hear. Didn’t matter.

After a while we pulled into the half-empty parking lot and entered the restaurant. The interior had a homey feel with its large, open space, mirrored walls, and wooden tabletops.

We were shown to a booth and wasted no time ordering two thick slices of key lime pie and coffee. Well, actually she got iced tea. I chose decaf.

Instead of chilling out, Lauren decided to poke out—her mouth, that is. This was a view I hadn’t seen or noticed in a long time. Even though I saw her and knew why she was acting that way, at first I refused to make eye contact. I felt like I was behaving like a jerk, but the realization didn’t compel me to change.

“So, what’s going on, Aaron?”

I stirred a half-pack of sugar substitute in my coffee and clanked the spoon real hard against the cup.

“Hey, have I done anything wrong? You are so moody. I
hate
when you’re like that,” she said, and pitched her back against her seat.

“Save it, Lauren. There’s nothing going on. Just tired,” was what I said.

Of you,
was what she didn’t hear.

I guess my answer appeased her, because I noticed her eyes softening. A look of remorse flashed across her sweet face. In a way I felt remorseful myself. Was it wrong to begin closing my heart against someone who didn’t deserve it? Especially when she couldn’t even figure out, didn’t have a single clue, what was going on inside of me?

It took great effort to sit in that booth pretending I wanted to be with Lauren when my mind was on someone else.

“I’m sorry, honey. Did you work yesterday or something?”

I cringed at “honey.” She was starting to sound like an insecure wife, and the way she was acting gave me the heebie-jeebies.

“Now that’s a stupid question, Lauren. You know I don’t work weekends.”

“Oh well, I don’t know. Whatever. I just hope you feel better. Wish I could do something to help you out of your funky attitude.”

“Don’t need help. Nothing’s wrong. Told you that.”

“Okay, okay, okay.”

She scowled like her stomach hurt, but lit up when the waitress brought over the plates of pie.

“Mmmm, yummy, this is so good. I need to be ashamed after all that food I pigged out on at Regis’s. Gotta watch my weight ’cause I sure don’t wanna be fat like my momma.”

“She’s
not
fat.”

“Geesh, why are you yelling at me?”

She blinked back tears and wrinkled her nose. Confusion combined with hurt. I felt like an idiotic super-duper maximum asshole.

“What do you care if my mom is fat or not, or anybody else, for that matter? It’s like you don’t want me to have my own opinions about things. Well, I do have an opinion. Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t mean I can’t have a legitimate opinion.”

I swallowed hard and tried to control my heavy breathing. I had a sudden urge to leave the House of Pies. Problem was I still had half a plate of pie to eat; I loved pie too much not to finish it.

“Yep, I’m about sick and tired of people trying to tell me what to do and how to be,” she continued, her voice upgrading to a higher volume and pitch.

“Where’s all this coming from, Lauren?”

“
You,
you acting like I can’t call nobody fat.”

“I didn’t say you can’t—”

“
Mom,
and her telling me not to have sex when she had it herself. She told me how she started screwing when she was younger. Why was it good enough for her but not for me?”

I leaned forward.

“What she tell you?” I asked, hoping my great interest didn’t bust me.

“Oh, some slutty little story about when she and her old boyfriend Poncho had sex on a hotel roof; then she told me about the time she had sex with my dad in his apartment when his roommate Elester was there. Then she was like ‘Oops, I shouldn’t be telling you all this.’ It was too late, though. Now don’t you think it’s unfair for her to tell me all that stuff? Wouldn’t you think that would make me want to find out what it’s like on my own?”

I leaned back, amused. “So, what you plan to do, Lauren?”

“Don’t you mean what do
we
plan to do?” She gave a sexy kind of grin.

Decaf flew out my mouth and rained on the tabletop. I grabbed a napkin and tried to wipe the surface calmly, like spewing coffee was nothing unusual.

“Hmmm,” she said with a shameless glow in her eyes. “Maybe I can figure something out before the end of the year. Maybe I can spend some time over my dad’s and just have you meet me over there.”

“Oh,” I replied in a monotone.

“And if that doesn’t work out, we can always get a room,” she said as a brilliant afterthought.

I shot her a rank look.

“Would you
really
take me to a hotel, Aaron? I’ve never been to the Doubletree or the Four Seasons.”

“Hell, I haven’t either. Not just to get a piece of—”

“Excuse me?” she replied.

I ducked my head and started scratching behind my ear.

“What were you about to say?” she pressed.

“Nothing.”

“I don’t buy that.”

“Wasn’t selling that.”

Her laugh sounded like two-year-old giggles.

“Oh, Aaron, I don’t know what’s going to happen. Just running my mouth for now.”

“Uh-huh.”

She cocked her sweet head. “Aaron, what’s up? You seem like you’re not game for us doing it anymore.”

“What you talking about, Lauren?”

“I mean, I mention us possibly getting a room and you acting like I was talking about going to the store and buying a loaf of bread. Whoopee, huh?”

“It’s not . . . it’s not that. Just don’t wanna get my hopes up,” were the shocking words that barreled from my head and out my mouth.

“Oh, poor baby,” she said looking at me and stroking my cheek. “I guess it’s been so long you don’t want to get all built up just to be let down. Don’t worry. I’m going to make the rain check up to you. I know you can’t wait on me forever.”

Oh, great,
I thought, and slumped in my seat.