My Sister's Ex (17 page)

She sits there looking stunned.

“Invite me to the wedding,” I tell her, and feel a sudden urge to go outside. My head is spinning, making me feel like I want to faint. I need to inhale some fresh air. A little bit of smoke is still lingering in the kitchen. So I say, “BRB,” real loud and slip outside the front door onto our balcony. Jeff is pacing back and forth, one hand shoved in his pocket, totally involved in his conversation. But when he looks up and notices me, he ends his call and practically runs to me.

“How’s your arm? You okay, Rach?”

“You haven’t called me that in months … sounds strange now.”

“Hey I really am sorry about everything. I know you must be hurt.”

“Not hurt. Fine actually,” and I mean it. “Never been better.”

“You can’t be serious. You were just pissed at everything not too long ago.”

“Things change. Things change fast sometimes,” I explain to him. I can see in his eyes that he’s confused, maybe even hurt. Perhaps the hurt that I once felt has been transferred to
him. Affecting his mind, shattering his emotions. The funny thing is I really don’t care what he says. If he can lie and say he’s accidentally carrying my ring on him, the most important piece of jewelry he’s ever bought in his life, then I am pretty much done with the guy. No one would believe what he told Marlene about the ring. It’s not something trivial, like absentmindedly stashing a dollar bill in his pocket.

“I don’t know if things change that fast.”

“Well, Jeff, I can’t speak for everyone else, but sometimes a little light goes off in a person’s head. They get an epiphany, things become clear, and they get what they need to move forward with life.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you’re over me? You don’t love me anymore … don’t want me … just like that?”

“Excuse me, Jeff, but I think your future wife is trying to get your attention. You hear her calling you? Better go see what she wants now or else she may not give you any pussy tonight.”

“That’s so disgusting. I am not even trying to go there—.”

“Jeff, she’s already told me, okay? I smelled what you used to give me on her body weeks ago. You can lie to Marlene, but I’m not her. I’m not,” I say a little more loudly than I wish. I do not want Marlene to think we are fighting over her. I’m too exhausted to go round for round with this girl. I just hope she knows what she’s doing. Because now I’ve figured out a lot of things that I want to do.

I head back inside, ignoring Marlene’s hostile stare as I pass through the front door to return to the kitchen. It’s a mess. Messiness makes me feel antsy. And I use my new surge of energy to make the kitchen look more presentable, wiping off counters, putting away leftovers, and sweeping the floor.

Jeff comes in the apartment soon afterward. Marlene returns a few seconds behind him.

“Need some help?” Jeff offers.

“She’s fine, Jeff, are you ready to go now?”

“Um, sure, Marlene. But don’t forget, before we go, you should clean up, if you know what I mean.”

“Okay.” She giggles and sneaks a look at me. “I am going to hop in the shower real quick. Count to three hundred and I’ll be ready. Wait until you hear the shower come on, okay?”

“Fine,” Jeff says. She races from the kitchen.

“Hmm,” Alita suddenly says, “I gotta get something out of my car. Be right back.” She nods at me.

And Jeff and I are alone in the front area of the apartment, a place where we used to share so much happiness. I remember how he chased me around the place one time, trying to spray me with a water gun that my little cousin forgot and left over here. I screamed and dashed for the bathroom, walk-in closet, anywhere, so I could escape him. But he caught up with me, sprayed me playfully, then threw me on the carpet. He got on top of me and started kissing me with such passion that our clothes soon were peeled from our bodies. We did some foreplay then made love on the living room floor. I got aroused wondering if Marlene was about to walk through the door. Jeff kissed and licked me all over, but he moaned like I was doing him. That day I thought how lucky I was to have him. And right then it didn’t matter that, two days prior, I was angry at him for not getting back to me when I called and left a detailed voice mail. I tore into him about being inconsiderate of me when we had dinner plans. How I’d waited and waited on him to pick me up, until I realized he’d left me in the lurch. I told myself there’s no way in hell I could marry a man who took me for granted. But I heard his sweet voice hours later, and he stopped by my place after midnight, unannounced, looking sheepish, apologizing and smelling good.

“Where were you?” I grilled him.

“I had to work, baby; these people had me waiting so long to show them the house that I fell asleep in the car. Then, when I woke up, I had to let them in the house, and they took their time inspecting every inch of the place.”

“Okay, but why didn’t you call when you woke up?”

“I couldn’t get a signal, baby, you know how undependable these cell phones are. You pay up the ass every month and can’t even use the phone half the time.” The subject went from where he was to how he hated Sprint because “they are so freaking unreliable.” And I thought about how freaking unreliable Jeff could be. And I let it go. I didn’t yet terminate his contract. Because as he bitched about Sprint, he caressed my arms. My legs. And I got lost. Deep in love. Again. And the cycle repeated itself.

Although I genuinely loved him, I didn’t always love what came with being with him. And now that I have to witness my sister getting caught up, I almost can’t believe it. It’s like my relationship is being rewound, replayed for me all over again. I don’t like how it appears he’s moving too fast with her, so fast that she’s blinded by his apparent charms.

“Rach—.”

“Don’t.” I feel him standing behind me. His warm breath flows against my neck. I wish he’d just stop it.

“But I wanna talk to you.”

“Talk to Marlene.”

“I want to talk to you.”

I sigh. Tremble.

“Just hear me out,” he pleads.

“Okay,” I say, my back stiff with tension.

“Every time I’m with her,” he whispers, “I think of you. It’s like, when I am with her I’m finishing up what you and I started.”

“Jeff, no. Don’t do that. It’s not fair to you, to her. Me.”

“Listen. I know it sounds strange, but I need to do this.”

I turn around. “You are going to hurt her, you know that, don’t you?”

He looks exasperated. I can see his love for me all in his eyes. It makes me want to protect Marlene. But she’s too far gone for me to do anything meaningful. She’ll misinterpret my every action. So, as much as I hate what’s happening, my hands are tied as tight as a drum.

I think of something quick.

“Um, Jeff, I know you are really bothered by the breakup. I totally understand. This has been difficult for both of us.”

“Yes, it has. You don’t know what kind of effect you had on me.”

“And it kills me to see you with her. Truly.”

He stares down at me with puppy-dog eyes.

“Come closer,” I say to him. He takes one step toward me.

“Closer.”

Another step.

Praying my plan will work, I wrap my arms tight around his neck. I stare up at him; his cheek is so close it nearly brushes against mine.

“Is it okay if I do this?”

He nods.

“I miss you, honey. Miss your lips, your touch.”

The front door opens, but I continue talking softly to Jeff.

“Let’s make up, start over from scratch.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Hug me,” I say.

He hesitates, then wraps his arms around my waist. I squeeze him tight, closing my eyes, and pull his body against mine. He has on a long-sleeved cotton shirt and a pair of blue jeans. I moan like I’m having an orgasm. I rub
my fingers across his shoulders, arms, press myself deeper against him. Our pelvises touch. I can feel his erection growing between us.

“Rachel?” Alita says. I ignore her, look at Jeff. His eyes are shut tight, mouth open. I’m taking him there.

I slide my arms down his back, grab his ass and squeeze. He moans, “Oh, God.”

I take a deep breath, and rub his butt, then place both my hands on his jeans pockets. I feel around until I touch a small, hard object. I reach inside his pocket and pull out my ring.

“Jeff.” I hear Marlene’s shrill voice coming from the hallway.

Alita locks eyes with me. I nod. She rushes in Marlene’s direction. I hear a door slam shut.

“Honey,” I whisper. “Do you really want to be with her, or do you want to marry me?”

“Rachel, I want to marry you!”

I push him off me and back away. He looks hurt, confused.

I am so angry I can’t speak. His actions tell me he is definitely not serious about Marlene. But I don’t want him thinking he wants me, either.

“What are you doing?” he asks. “You’re playing some kind of game, huh, Rachel?”

“No, you’re the one playing games. Stay the fuck away from my sister.”

“Y-you’re crazy, Rachel. Give me back my ring.”

I feel like running outside and throwing it in the bushes, but when I hear Marlene arguing with Alita, frustration makes me say fuck it. She’s in too deep. I can do everything I can on her behalf, but if she’s not willing to listen she’ll have to learn the hard way. I hand the ring back over to Jeff.

Minutes later she emerges from her bedroom, Alita running behind her. I motion with my eyes to forget it, damage has been done.

Even though I was nervous about it, my plan was for Jeff to at least show me he’s true to my sister, by not falling for my little seductress act. If he would have rejected me, I could have told her he might be serious after all. But now I know the truth about his intentions. I watch Jeff conjure up a fake smile. Observe him wrap his lanky arm around Marlene’s wide shoulders. He waves bye to Alita but ignores me. And he and my sister walk out the front door.

As soon as they leave the apartment, Alita asks, “Now are you ready to sign up for some online dating?”

— 10 —
M
ARLENE

I’m Definitely Not Rachel

I can’t believe I’m
doing this
. This is the thought that repeatedly enters into my brain. It’s midafternoon on Saturday several hours after we left Rachel and Alita at the apartment. I am lying down on a massage bed. All I can see are white lights. Silas, a skinny body artist with long stringy brown hair that covers one eye, has rubbed alcohol on the upper part of my right breast. My cheeks are burning red and hot. Humiliation. But also some fear. Why does the needle sound so terrifying? It’s buzzing really loudly and reminds me of Blinky’s electric razor. Silas carefully dips the needle in black ink and places one drop on his own skin to test it.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Jeff asks, smiling down at me. His eyes display both concern and excitement.

“I’m good. Let’s do this. It’s the Jeffrey Williams way.”

We laugh.

Silas leans over me and secures a thin sheet of carbon paper above my nipple. He carefully traces a picture of a heart on top of my breast. My new heart will be about the size of two fifty-cent pieces. I also instruct Silas to put interlocking letters, “M&J,” on top of the heart, but the letters should be in red ink. Using the needle, Silas hums along to an old Springsteen song blaring from a transistor radio. He
rocks his head to the beat and follows the lines of the tracing, then picks up the needle. Ready or not, here I come. The needle sounds loud as hell, and when the tip finally meets my skin, it feels like a big staple is scraping across my breast.

“Ouch,” I say and try to remain still.

“Sorry,” Silas remarks and continues bobbing his head to the music.

Besides me and Silas, the only other person in the room is Jeff. Last night, when Jeff first brought up the body art idea, he told me when it’s your first time, it’s normal to bring lots of supporters: family, friends, people who can provide comfort while you go through the tattoo experience. But I couldn’t think of one person who I thought would be happy for me, including Loretta. When I called her this morning and excitedly told her my plans, first thing she said to me was “You sound like a damn fool. I didn’t raise you to be no fool.”

“Huh,” I said, instantly annoyed. “What?”

“A real woman loves her man and is down for him, but a tat? Isn’t that for, like, men who are hanging around a prison yard lifting weights and plotting their escape?”

I laughed at her naiveté. “No, Mama, that’s a stupid B movie stereotype. Everybody gets tats these days. A lot of celebrities and basketball players have them.”

“Marlene, you are hardly a celebrity. And I have never seen you running up and down a court bouncing a ball—”

“Even Blinky has one.”

“Girl, Blinky got that ugly-ass thing when he got out of the service years ago. He ain’t trying to make no statement or nothing, but I guess you are.”

“Well, Mama, I do love Jeff and he loves—.”

“What you say? You say he loves you? Ha ha ha,” she cackled. “Ooo, my precious dumb daughter, you have a lot to learn.”

“Mama,” I whined. “I thought you were for us, on my side. I don’t like hearing you talk like this. I am not dumb.”

“Well, a few punches upside my head are causing me to think a little more straight these days. That’s about the only good thing I’m getting out of what happened.”

Blinky doesn’t know it, but Loretta has recently been thinking about kicking him out. Except she got fired from her job last week for being extra pushy with her advice to a client, so now she must rely on him more to pay the rent, buy groceries, and fill up her tank with gas so she can drive around in her big ole four-door Chrysler. I made the mistake of telling Loretta that Blinky might sock her again since her joblessness has him stressing about money and bills.

“Shut the hell up,” she said, cutting me off and proceeding to curse me out until I hung up on her. I haven’t mentioned her jobless situation since.

And those incidents is probably the main reason why I didn’t invite Loretta to be with me while I get my first tat. She’ll automatically say it’s a “damn good waste of money” or something to that effect. And personally I don’t care to hear her or anyone else’s negativity. I consider myself grown, so I think by now I should know what I’m doing.