My Married Boyfriend (9 page)

“I may look ratchet,” Nicole replied, “but I do my research. And I will not be on the wrong side of a statistic.”

“Why are we out here talking about statistics—?”

“All I know is that half of all black women will never get married; these stats are very high in comparison to white women and Hispanics. And more than forty-eight percent of black men won't get married. And of those that do, some of 'em are choosing to marry women of other races,” Nicole said in an emotional voice. She didn't want to make it sound as if she was desperate and afraid, but occasionally, that's how she felt. Although she put on a brave front before Kiara, in truth she knew how it felt to be wounded emotionally and feel insecure. She never wanted to display weakness, especially not in front of her boss. But at that moment it all began to hit her.

When she realized how much courage it had taken for her to move more than six hundred fifty miles across country to live and work in a place in which she did not know one soul, her knees nearly gave in. She had relocated with hardly any money, without the support of her family, and was forced to move into a shoddy-ass rental house because she lacked the money to move into a more upscale apartment complex. She was so afraid the first night that she moved into the little house. At the time it had no curtains. So she taped newspaper over all the windows and prayed to God that no one tried to break into the home that night. She was scared but was happy to have a new job. And she was determined to work and stick it out. Not run back home to Alabama like a failure.

Nicole continued with tears in her eyes, “Do you know how that makes me feel to know that I could never get married because of what some dumb statistics claim?”

“I really don't care—”

“I'll tell you how it makes me feel. I don't know why I'm telling you this but . . . I used to have a man that wasn't a hundred percent black. He was fucking Italian mixed with black, if you can imagine that. I never intended to be with a man whose ancestors didn't come from the motherland. Yet he and I were tight like Romeo and Juliet. We fought the odds to be together because his family wasn't feeling this dark-skinned chick from the South. He loved me to death and I felt the same. I just
knew
us two rebels would get married. We were on our way, but . . . shit happens. Bad became worse. I felt lost. And then he was gone. And that's that.”

For the first time ever, Kiara viewed Nicole through different eyes. She always wondered why the woman chose to be the way that she was. When she first met Nicole, she knew she seemed quiet and a little reserved. But later she thought of her as ridiculously angry. And now Kiara knew Nicole was merely a hurt and scared little girl. Kiara didn't want Rashad anymore, so Nicole could have him. But she also wasn't willing to keep fighting with the woman over a man that wasn't worth it.

“Nicole, I'm sorry to hear about your failed relationship.”

“Sure you are,” Nicole sniffed.

“I'm being sincere. Being hurt doesn't feel good.”

“No, it doesn't.”

“I want to hear more about this guy. Why didn't it work out?”

“Oh, God. Why am I telling you these things?” Nicole paused, unable to believe that she was letting her vulnerabilities be exposed. “Let's just say that there were things about him that I couldn't deal with. At the end of the day, in my heart I knew I couldn't be with this man forever. It was too risky. Too unstable. Too painful.”

“I can understand that.”

“And once I realized that fact, it made me think more clearly about what I need. And what is better for me. I hate the stats, but if the stats don't lie, then they help me to stay focused.”

“But you're just so . . .” Kiara shivered. “It's like you're mechanical, factual and, excuse me for saying this, like your heart isn't honestly involved.”

“What? Are you serious?” Nicole felt defensive again. She never liked getting too close to a female because she knew they could turn on her with no warning. It happened to her when she was a high school senior. Her closest girlfriend, Darla Sims, the one whom she trusted with her life, blindsided her when Nicole found out she was actually secretly keeping company with a boy that Nicole liked. Nicole happened to walk up on Darla and Ronnie; their arms were entwined around each other while standing in line at a movie theater. A Friday night on which Ronnie claimed he was sick. And the best friend she wanted to hang out with had told her that she had to babysit her nieces and nephews. And on the spur of the moment, Nicole went to see a movie that she'd begged Ronnie to take her to. Nicole purchased her own ticket, walked into the lobby, and spotted her girl and her boy hanging all on each other in public while waiting to buy concession-stand food. Nicole drug Darla by the hair into the women's restroom. When she emerged ten minutes later, the scratches on her face proved that a once promising friendship had now ended. After that experience, Nicole's heart grew icily cold toward any female.

“Put it this way, Kiara, I hate that we got off to a wrong start and the way things have played out between us since then. I don't like beefing with females, but it happens. You may not like me or understand how I roll, but at least I'm one of the few women in your life that can give you some good unsolicited advice. I'm sorry that Rashad did what he did to you. I really am.”

And Nicole excused herself and went on her lunch break, feeling happy that she had let out her frustrations on someone that day.

But deep in her heart, she still felt frustrated.

* * *

Carmen Foster kept her word and she invited Alexis to hang out with her. It was mid-December, not exactly crawfish season, but they still decided to check out Crawfish Heaven off of South Highway 6. Carmen actually went out of her way to pick up Alexis and talked her ear off as they traveled to get some lunch that Saturday morning.

They were shown to their table and Carmen took control. “You like raw oysters?”

“Love them.”

“Good. Forrest hates them, so now I have someone to go with me when I'm in the mood for them. He says they are too damned cold and slimy. I tell him they're no slimier than those sardines you like to mess with. He can't say a thing after that.”

Alexis laughed. “You don't seem like you're Varnell's sister.”

“Oh, that's because he is so quiet and I'm so loud. I've been told I talk so loud that if I sat at the back of the church, the preacher could still hear me. We're talking Lakewood Church with their seventeen-thousand-seat sanctuary.”

Their two dozen oysters soon arrived.

“Now tell me something. What made you get into the side chick business?”

“It isn't something that you wake up one day and decide ‘I think I'll go find someone's husband to fuck around with.' No, it happened entirely different than that. I had no idea that my guy had a wife.”

“Hmm. But when you did find out, did you dump his ass?”

“It took a while.”

“How long?

“Years.” Alexis knew she couldn't BS Carmen and there was no sense in trying.

“I will hold off on what I really want to say.”

“Thanks.” Alexis laughed. She enjoyed her oysters with horseradish sauce and washed them down with a light beer.

“Well, ain't none of my business, but I do hope you've given up that occupation. My brother deserves a good woman. He's looking, I know that much. And he is getting older, is unmarried, and that makes women suspect. ‘What's wrong with you?' they ask him. ‘No kids. Never been married. You gay?' ”

“Well, I can't blame the women for wondering. But no, Varnell is a good man. He's very different than what I'm used to.”

“You're used to being spoiled, right?”

“Yes.”

“He's not poor but he's not rich. Can you deal with that?”

Alexis had to think. “I guess that'll be okay.”

“What do you mean, you guess? Don't tell me you're one of those Kardashian types.”

“I don't know what you mean by that.”

“You should know exactly what I mean. Hell, you're as pretty as any of them.”

“Thank you.”

“But for some women being pretty isn't enough.”

“Look, I'm not a gold digger.”

“Good.”

“But I do want security. I have a child.”

“You get child support?”

“I will. I plan to file for back child support.”

“How old is it?”

“It's a she. Hayley is twenty-four months.”

“Oh, hell no. That baby is two years old and you've never filed? And I don't want to hear that ‘it's complicated' excuse. It's not that complicated. You have a baby by a man. You file for child support.”

“He's married.”

“So what? File for support.”

Alexis said that she would, and the two ladies enjoyed the rest of the morning talking, drinking beer, and trying other seafood items, all at Carmen's expense, and to Alexis's delight.

I
t was almost Christmas; Nicole was headed home after running errands all day. It was a windy and hot afternoon, one that hadn't seen rain in several days. Nicole was driving in her car whose AC had recently stopped working. Her windows were ajar; she had just made a turn onto the street where she lived. Her neighborhood was an area that was home to a large population of multiple ethnicities: blacks, Hispanics, and Asians. Various street vendors lined the road with food trucks that sold tacos and other Tex-Mex cuisine.

Nicole was lost in her thoughts when she got interrupted by piercing screams.

“Somebody help. Oh, no. Look!”

Nicole pulled over to the right side of her street and parked. She clearly heard a woman's voice cry out, “Oh, Jesus. This is horrible.”

Right across the street a scene was unfolding. The entire roof of a three-story apartment building was on fire. Huge flames poured out of some windows; other windows were getting melted. Nicole removed the keys from her ignition and stepped onto the street. The fire made crackling noises. Black and gray smoke steadily rose. It was a terrible inferno. Nicole's eyes began to itch. Two fire trucks had already arrived and sirens screamed in the background.

A crowd gathered. One thin Hispanic man stood on a balcony. Flames shot at him like the tongue of a rattlesnake. The man glanced at the street below; a few cars were located underneath his window. If he tried to jump, he could be severely injured.

“Hurry, move,” someone yelled. People jumped out of the way so that the fire trucks could pass.

“Oh, my God,” Nicole uttered. She began praying under her breath.

Water was being pumped by the firemen, but it was like aiming a water gun at a California wildfire.

The trapped man stood on the ledge while the flames inched closer; he abruptly made the sign of the cross then leaped off the metal railing that was completely engulfed. The crowd yelled and held its breath. He landed on top of an SUV and crumpled instantly. Emergency personnel rushed to his side.

Nicole couldn't bear the sight of blood. The man's body was twisted and mangled. He wailed and moaned as the paramedics attended to him. Nicole couldn't take it anymore. She turned away and her eyes rested on some children.

“Look at these kids,” Nicole said. She wandered over to a group of approximately four youngsters ranging from two years old to eleven. They were standing next to a fireman. Their straight black hair was singed. Soot and ashes covered their tanned cheeks. The younger kids, a boy and a girl, only wore undershirts and diapers. The second oldest boy was fully dressed. The oldest had on gym shorts. All were barefoot.

One of the kids could be heard speaking Spanish, so Nicole assumed that English wasn't their first language.

She greeted the fireman and then decided to address the group using the few Spanish words she remembered from college.
“Donde está su madre?”

They all shrugged. One little girl began to weep silently.

Nicole watched as two paramedics carried a woman on a stretcher. She was unconscious.

“Mama,” the little boy screeched at the woman, but his mother didn't respond.

“Excuse me, sir. Is that their—?”

The fireman nodded and explained, “she ran back into the house to save the kids, but—”

The little boy shrieked again and tried to run toward the body.

Nicole quickly shielded the little boy's vision so he couldn't see his mom.

EMS brought out more bodies, which were covered by blankets and transferred into body bags.

The smell of iron was strong, the fume of death undeniable.

Someone else screamed. A woman fainted.

Grief had arrived and word soon spread.

Nicole felt weak in the knees as she saw fear cloud the little ones' eyes.

“The kids look thirsty,” she told the fireman. “May I please give them something to drink? My car is right over there.”

He responded, “No problem.”

Nicole gathered all the kids in a circle. “Come with me. We aren't going far.”

Nicole made them cross the street with her. She opened the trunk of her car and removed a cooler filled with pouches of flavored drinks that she routinely kept in the car in case she got thirsty. The kids eagerly sipped on Capri Suns while they waited. Nicole reached in her purse and grabbed all the cash in her wallet. Ninety dollars in all; it was the money she had intended to use to buy Rashad's mother a Christmas gift. She stuffed the crumpled bills into the oldest boy's hand.

“
Aquí
. Take it.”

He held a blank look in his eyes but he accepted the money.
“Muchas gracías.”

“
De nada
,” Nicole told him. “It's nothing.”

His little brother abruptly fell down on the street and lay prostate on his back; he covered his face with his hands and wept.

It was a struggle, but Nicole sat down beside him and caressed his sweaty shirt. “It's okay, honey. I know you love your mommy.” Her voice broke. She thought of her own unborn baby and loved her child even more.

Soon a Houston NBC news truck pulled up. A reporter and a camera man started interviewing witnesses. The female reporter noticed Nicole choking back tears as she comforted the children.

“Hello, I'm with the media. May I ask what happened?” the reporter said to Nicole.

“It was crazy. The flames were awful. A man almost got killed trying to jump. And these kids. They—” She bit her bottom lip, unable to continue.

The reporter saw all of the children quietly sipping their flavored drinks. She noticed the money in the older boy's hand.

“Did you help these kids?”

Nicole reluctantly nodded. The youngest, a two-year-old girl, waddled over to Nicole and stretched out her tiny hands. Nicole struggled to lift the child. She placed her on her hip while the reporter observed.

“It's obvious you care. Are you their babysitter?” the reporter continued.

“No, I'm not.”

“Why did you help these children? Do you know them?”

“I dunno. I-I'm about to become a mother myself,” Nicole said, and let out a sob. One of the kids came and hugged Nicole around the waist. The weight of the two kids hanging onto her made Nicole tired, but she pulled herself together as the camera man pointed his lens in her face.

“I couldn't imagine anything bad happening to my baby; my child. And I just put myself in their shoes. This tragedy will affect them for the rest of their lives. They don't deserve it.”

“Will their mother be all right?” the reporter softly asked.

“I honestly don't know.” Nicole kissed the little girl's smudged cheek. It felt brittle and tasted salty, but Nicole didn't care.

She was dazed as she answered question after question. The reporter noted how Nicole would alternatively speak to the kids in Spanish, other times in English. Someone came over and volunteered info about how Nicole shielded and protected the kids.

Before it was over with, the story of the inferno got carried on all the major networks, including CNN. Four people died from the tragedy. The reporter who questioned Nicole heard that that the kids' mother took her last breath while en route to Memorial Hermann hospital. Eight firemen suffered from heat exhaustion, many tenants lost everything, and a few survived with just the clothes on their backs.

ABC-13 came along. They got Nicole's name from an iReporter. They conducted a brief interview. They informed Nicole that they received official word that the children's mother had died. Nicole was visibly shaken. She told the reporter, “I relocated here from Birmingham, Alabama. And you never could have told me I'd be a witness to such a tragedy.”

Soon other journalists lined up nearby; they set up cameras and waited to aim their microphones at Nicole's mouth.

After the taped segments were done, Nicole smiled gratefully when people within the community began to bring food, fresh drinking water, and clothing. They placed everything on top of a makeshift table hastily set up on the street.

“Thank you, God,” she whispered as she watched the kids' stunned faces.

Nicole remained on the scene as fire personnel cordoned off the area and started their investigation. She received countless pats on the back. And some requested her name and phone number.

She gave the kids' hugs when one of their relatives arrived to take them with him. They exchanged information and she promised to keep in touch.

As soon as the kids left, an elderly woman approached Nicole.

“You're pregnant, right?”

“Yes ma'am,” she said.

“You're going to be a wonderful mommy.”

“I sure hope so.”

Four hours later Nicole made it home.

“Oh, my God, that was so unbelievable.” Tired as she'd ever been, Nicole plunked herself down on the couch and sighed. In that moment, she understood that life was precious and unpredictable, and she had to make each day count.

Every single part of Nicole's body ached. She just wanted to lie down and go to sleep.

“Where the hell have you been?” Rashad asked as he entered the living room. “Why didn't you answer my calls?”

“My phone went dead,” she responded in a raspy voice. “I was at that fire down the street. It is too much to even go into. Just horrible and crazy. And trust me when I say I'm glad to be home, bae. I'm so glad to be alive.”

Rashad told her he was happy she was home, too. He prepared her a quick and simple dinner of hamburger patties and mac and cheese out of the box. Then he made sure that she got adequate rest that night.

Early the next morning, Rashad vigorously patted Nicole's shoulder while she was still asleep in bed.

“Get up, Nicky. Wake up.”

“Wake up? Why? I'm asleep,” she yawned.

“Get your ass up, now.”

“Is it an emergency?”

“Maybe. Look.”

She opened her tired eyes. Rashad turned up the volume on the television.

“You're famous, Ma.”

There was footage of Nicole being interviewed by a news reporter. Her name was in big yellow letters on the TV screen. When Rashad turned to a different channel, he saw Nicole again, speaking about the fire and the kids.

Her phone started chirping. Texts poured in.

She answered her phone. “Yeah, I just saw it,” she told Shyla. Nicole had to sit up in bed and groggily repeat the whole story to her girlfriend. The second she hung up, her phone rang once more. This time it was a reporter from Montgomery, Alabama. She agreed to a live phone interview. By the time a couple of hours had passed, Nicole had spoken with journalists from Atlanta, Las Vegas, Toronto, DC, and every other place in between. She gave impromptu interviews that lasted several minutes. And some of the reporters scheduled telephone interviews that would take place all throughout the week.

“I can't believe this,” she said as she hung up from the last call. “Someone must be playing a joke on me. I guess my communications degree from UAB came in handy.” She laughed.

“I didn't know my baby was as famous as a reality TV star.”

“You mean that?” she said, feeling excited. “I'm your baby?”

“You're my
baby
, baby.” Rashad picked up Nicole and spun her around. He immediately started huffing and puffing.

“You've been eating like a pig and now you are as heavy as one.”

“You know you're wrong. Put me down, crazy man.”

He instantly set her down. Then he kissed her to let her know all was well. She loved that. She loved when he showed her how he felt about her. And she enjoyed when he did what she asked him to do; she wanted it to happen again and again.

The next morning, Nicole woke up in a panic.

Rashad immediately sensed her mood. “What's wrong?”

“It's Christmas Eve and we're meeting your mother tonight. I-I spent the money that I was going to use to buy her a last-minute gift.”

“Oh, all right,” Rashad said. He and his mother, Beeva Reese, didn't see each other as often as they should, but during this holiday season he wanted to make an effort and do right by her.

He pulled out his wallet and peeled off two twenties.

“Here, go find her something.”

“Forty dollars? Are you serious?”

“I'm running low on cash. I've had to give Lily another two grand. I paid my people some generous Christmas bonuses. And I owed back taxes. My funds took a big hit.”

“Oh, please, that's crazy, Rashad. You have so many projects going that you can barely keep up.”

“True, but the money is still funny. And I'm not joking.”

Nicole wondered if she should believe him or not.

“Does that mean I shouldn't expect a nice gift from Santa?”

“It means that Santa's attorney told him do not buy any girlfriends expensive presents right now. Kiara's attorneys are going to be all over my bank statements and cash withdrawals. And if I am caught buying diamonds and gold, it could be categorized as community property. Kiara doesn't play that. That's hardball, so you gotta wait till I'm single again before I can splurge on you. I can buy the baby nice shit, but not you.”

The words “splurge on you” rang loudly in Nicole's ears. She heard future, she heard desire, and she wanted to be patient and hold on until her married boyfriend officially became her man.

“Hmm, that sucks,” she replied, “but I hear you. Let's forget about me for right now. Somehow I will manage. But I'm mostly thinking about your mama, and with this little bit of money you gave me I'll have to do the best I can. What type of things does she like?”