My Sister's Ex (11 page)

It’s only by a sheer miracle that I am able to leave the apartment before Marlene. As I depart my bedroom and pass through the living area, I can hear the shower running. Thank God Marlene loves to take long, hot showers. And that’s why, if I’m smart, I always take my shower the night before, because if I try to take one after she gets out, the water runs miserably cold. But she doesn’t care. She claims long showers are her “therapy.” Well, this girl needs to stay in that shower for the next few weeks.

Drown, bitch, drown. It seems like something tragic will have to happen to get my sister to wake up.

Meanwhile, I am not opposed to using some different techniques to get what I want. So I sneak out of the house, hop in my car, and drive out of the apartment complex until I hit Highway 6 South. It’s amazing how one day you tell yourself you’ll never go a certain place ever again, but the next day circumstances cause you to retract your words. Minutes later I pull up into the parking lot of Waffle House, which is adjacent to an Advance Auto Parts. I recognize Ella right away. Jeff’s precious car is parked at an angle taking up two whole spaces so that no one else can get too close. The way he dotes on his car burns me up. Yet I gotta do what I gotta do. My heart beats wildly, and a line of sweat develops on my forehead. I feel as nervous as the day I knew I would tell Jeff no to getting married.

I step out of my car and begin walking toward the
restaurant. As usual, it’s crowded. Waitresses are taking orders and barking them to the cooks. The cooks pour coffee, crack egg shells, and spoon pancake batter onto the waffle maker. Customers are eating breakfast and chatting loudly as this Monday morning’s activities begin.

Jeff is sitting by himself in the corner of the restaurant. His PDA is firmly pressed against his ear. He’s vigorously nodding his head, and I see his lips moving, like he’s talking to someone. I quickly slide into the seat in front of him and rest my hands on the table. He looks up, his eyes enlarge, and he talks loud.

“Hey, man, I gotta do something real quick. I’ll hit you back this afternoon,” he says and hangs up. “Rachel? What are you doing here?”

“Jeff, we need to talk.”

“Oh, yeah? Is that why you’re here? So you can talk?”

“Yes, Jeff, yes.”

“Why can’t you just pick up the phone? Call a brother?”

“I’m scared you won’t answer my calls.”

“You’re scared I won’t answer your calls?”

“Please stop repeating everything I say. I’m nervous enough as it is.”

He smirks, and his facial expression makes me feel like I’m swimming against a tide. His inability to take me seriously makes this hard.

“How’d you know I was here, Rachel?”

“My sister said you two were meeting. Jeff, why are you doing this, honey? I mean, what are you trying to prove?”

His eyes flicker with amusement. I guess he can see through my questions. He closely examines my blouse and starts sniffing the air. He knows my fragrance. Donna Karan Cashmere Mist. I remember whenever I’d wear it he’d sink his nose into my neck and inhale my seductive scent. Then his lips would press against my skin. I’d close my eyes, lost in the magic
of his touch. We’d end up kissing and rubbing our hands all over each other. In a matter of minutes we’d peel off each other’s clothes. And he’d kiss me everywhere, sucking the hungriest parts of my body until he completed the job, while I twisted and jerked, screaming out his name and cradling his head in my hands. I’m beginning to question why I was so afraid of his love. I can’t bear for Marlene to have what I used to have.

“All I’m saying is”—I clear my throat to explain—“whatever it is you two call yourselves doing, it’s happening way too fast. Jeff, haven’t you learned the effects of doing things, important things, too quickly?”

“Baby girl, I’m out here every day on my hustle. And decisions about my houses must be made at a moment’s notice—”

“Okay Jeff, but relationships aren’t like purchasing houses—”

“I got to keep things moving. Whether it comes to business or relationships, keep it moving.”

“Relationships need more time, Jeff … all I’m saying.”

“But that’s the point. Life is too short to take our sweet little time trying to decide what we want out of it. I have to get mine ’cause I have a goal. My game plan is to add three more houses this year, and the year is nearly half over. I plan to make some money so I can wine and dine my woman. And I want to travel with my lady, Rachel. Remember that?”

I flinch. Nod.

“Remember how we’d look through those cruise catalogs, flip through the travel section of the Sunday
Chronicle?
And we’d point out the places we wanted to go, and wonder what it would be like to eat outside at a café in Paris. We’d imagine touring Egypt from the Nile River, or spend time making love in a Norwegian villa. Just getting away from it all and really experiencing life?”

“I know Jeff, I know. I was there.”

“Right. You
were
there. I thought it would be me and you. Forever, Rachel. Building our lives together as one. You’d work at the clinic. And I’d be the hustling real estate guy. We’d start popping out babies, little Jeffreys and Rachels, every couple of years until we had two girls and two boys. And we’d raise our kids together, live in a two-story brick house in a gated community, and everyone would have a passport, so together we could explore the real world and experience things we’ve never imagined.”

I really wish he’d stop. It’s like he’s rubbing it in. Making me remember his finer qualities. Recall his passion and ambitions. I think about the fact that, yeah, he wasn’t allergic to hard work. No, he wasn’t interested in obtaining a college degree, but it was okay. Jeff would say true education comes from the streets. That he could live and die by the streets and learn everything he needs to know to successfully make it in life. And he convinced me that we could live “the Jeffrey Williams way.” He’d remind me that he loved me enough to make me his wife, and that it was an honor for him to even ask me for my hand in marriage. Because statistics indicate that almost 42 percent of African American women will never get married. They’re destined to spend their entire lives alone, manless. Sure, they can make a baby with a man, but it won’t be the same as being a true, strong, two-parent family. So I was beating the odds, he told me. I lucked out when I met him. A man devoted enough to me to place his ring on my finger.

I glance down at my left hand. I must admit it has never looked so barren. I want to choke with grief, but I know now is not the time.

“I–I don’t know what to say, Jeff.”

He stares at me with sad eyes for a moment. Then he reaches his hand into his pants pocket.

“Say yes, Rachel.”

“What?”

“Say yes.”

And he pulls out my ring. And I gasp and stare at the ring, then at Jeff.

“I-I don’t understand,” I say, barely above a whisper.

And his eyes tell me what I need to know, what I’ve always known.

“I lo—.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” I hear Marlene’s irritating voice pound into the back of my head. Jeff discreetly places his hand in his pocket and feigns an innocent look.

“Don’t worry, Marlene,” I inform her. She
did
end up wearing that baby-doll dress. “Waffle House hasn’t run out of food. Yet.”

“Girl, you better get out of my seat with your sneaky self. That’s the last time I tell you about me and Jeff’s plans.”

“I know all about his plans, believe me.” I stand up. His eyes penetrate through me, and I’m too stunned to look at him again. All I can think about is my engagement ring shining in his big hand.

“You’re too desperate, Rachel. I mean, really, why do you insist on continually embarrassing yourself? Just leave, okay? Go!”

And I do just that. I go. I wonder what would have happened if Marlene hadn’t shown up. Was Jeff trying to tell me he still loves me? That he’s never gotten over me? That he truly still wants me after all this time? I can hardly breathe just thinking about it. But the fact that he’s still at
our
restaurant, ready to eat breakfast with my sister, with
my
ring in his pocket, makes me believe he’s confused about which woman he really wants.

— 7 —
R
ACHEL

Something Better Exists for You

You know how things
can be when you’re too upset to drive, yet you know you have to? So picture me in my car, driving down a busy street, my car swerving in and out of my lane, like I’m drunk.

I am holding my Samsung PDA in my right hand and trying to clutch the steering wheel in my left hand. I need to text Alita because I am sure she’s not reachable by phone. She works as a cashier at Wal-Mart, and they discourage employees from taking calls while on the clock, but that doesn’t stop us from texting each other all day.

“Call when u get time,”
I furiously type on the keyboard and push send.

Two seconds later:
“He’s driving me crazy,”
I type, then I push send again.

Five seconds later, I click the keys once more,
“He asked me 2 marry him again.”

And ten seconds later my cell phone starts playing Rihanna’s “Don’t Stop the Music,” which is Alita’s ring tone.

“I assume your text is referring to your ex. Am I right, or am I on crack?”

“You’re not on crack, Hardly Berry.”

“Girl, uh no, this is crazy. What is Jeff doing? Is he
serious? What happened? Tell me everything in two minutes.”

I explain to her how Marlene and Jeff were meeting for breakfast, but I got there before her. That he presents me with the ring I love and asks me to say yes.

“Wow! Did you say yes, no, or you’ll think about it?”

“Girl, I was so shocked I didn’t know what to say.”

“I’d love to hear what Marlene would’ve done if you had told him yes,” Alita replies and starts cackling.

“Dang, she’s such a fool. I told her he isn’t serious.” I feel a little proud of myself which causes the tension in my shoulders to lessen, yet thoughts of their eating breakfast together bugs me.

“Man, so you think Jeff still loves you?”

“I think he still cares for me, of course—not to brag, but he truly cared for me. But I guess my shocking him by not being ready for marriage was more than he could take.”

“And maybe he’s had time to think …”

“And maybe he’s going to break up with Marlene!” I exclaim with glee.

“But technically, Rachel, they aren’t going together, right? It’s only been a few dates.”

“Well, the way Marlene tells it they are practically a couple, but I’m starting to think this is more my sister than him. You know what I mean? I think she wants him so bad that she’s willing it to happen.”

“Oh, Jesus, this is getting so juicy but the store manager is starting to give me the evil eye.”

“I understand. See ya—.”

“Wait, don’t hang up, Rachel. We need to talk some more about your crazy love life. Are you about to go to work?”

I respond, “I have to be at work at the clinic by 10:30. I always like to get there at least twenty minutes early, so I can
scope out the waiting room and predict what type of day I’ll have. I hope I have a great day considering what I’ve already been through.”

“Look, sweetie, try to stop thinking about this stuff for a minute, get yourself safely to work, and we can get together this afternoon. I have to get back on my register before my boss’s eyeballs pop out from staring at me so hard.”

“Ugh, okay. I’ll holler at you later.”

So with my girl not being able to talk to me right now, I know I must deal with the stress of this situation on my own. And instantly I feel my shoulders start to tense up again. One thing I love doing when stressed is slide a mix CD in my car’s player and just meditate and listen to songs. Music is powerful and able to affect my moods. The song that does the trick for me is “Me, Myself and I” by my hometown girl Beyoncé. I remember seeing her perform the song at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo a few years ago. Talk about female empowerment. Jeff used to be my best friend, and although Alita is my girl, I know I gotta step up my game and be my own friend, like the song suggests.

I quietly sing to myself and resist biting my fingernails. Thankfully, my cell rings, and I gladly answer.

“Hey Mama, how’s it going? You doing all right?”

“I called to check on you, Little Bit. You need anything?”

I laugh. “That’s the question of the century, Mama. I don’t even know where to begin. I feel so confused this morning. About Jeff, and me, and Marlene. He still has strong feelings for me, and I don’t know how to handle it.”

“If he has those kinds of feelings for you, what’s he doing with Marlene?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out … because no way he can truly care about me and her. I sense he still wants me but is too scared to outright admit it.”

“Does your sister know?”

“You know, I think that if he hired a helicopter to post a banner across the sky that said ‘Jeff Loves Rachel,’ she’d swear it was a different Jeff.”

“Not
her
Jeff, huh.” Mama laughs.

“Exactly. I can’t talk any sense into her,” I say, and a chill runs over me. “It’s like she’s lost her mind, Mama. And the way she’s acting is affecting how I respond to what’s going on.”

“Well, take this from an old woman. It’s going to be tough dealing with that shit right now, but it gets better, or at least it can if you do things the right way.” She pauses. “If I had done things the right way, my life would’ve turned out different, for sure.”

“Oh, Mama, here you go again. I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.”

“Girl, you know how guilty I feel, how bad I feel thinking back on decisions I’ve made, foolishness that could have been avoided. Shoot, as old as I am I still don’t do things right. Sometimes being bad feels too much fun.” She cackles. It feels so good to hear her laugh.

“Well, I guess Marlene is having a ton of fun right now, huh? She’s beyond bad, Mama. She and Jeff went out this morning,” I say, and my voice breaks. “She got all dressed up just to go to a Waffle House. It seems like she’s changing, and I’ve never seen this side of her.” I imagine how Jeff must feel. Sitting across the table with my sister. My ring burning a hole in his pocket. He better hope it doesn’t fall out.