Single Mom (42 page)

“That’s true, too. People
allow
others to control.”

Denise agreed. “It’s changing though. More and more women are beginning to understand their own power.”

I paused for a second. I had a thought on the power issue, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to bring it up or not. After thinking it over, I decided that I would.

“Do you think that this realization of women’s power has been good for black people or bad? I mean, I can say that it’s
definitely
been good for the sisters, but how has it affected the black community as a whole?” I really wanted an answer to that question. Because it seemed that the more black women amassed their own wealth and power, the less qualified black men were becoming, which led to more broken unions that could have been healthy families. I was still afraid to even ask my sister, “D. Brockenborough,” if she had started dating white men in Tucson.

Denise nodded and raised an index finger as she finished her mouthful. “Camellia and I thought about that a lot, especially after starting up the Single Mothers’ Organization. We kept hearing sisters say that brothers were intimidated by their success and willpower. Now, what are we supposed to do, act meek and giddy for these brothers? Fuck that! We have children to raise.”

I broke out laughing. “That’s the same thing I told Larry when
he
complained about it,” I responded. “But that still doesn’t answer the question of what happens to our community at the outset of all of these broken unions?”

Denise gave me a long stare. She said, “I see where you’re going with this, and it ain’t gonna work. I’m not going to tell sisters to stop moving
forward and doing what they need to do because these brothers have ego problems. That’s on them.

“What they
need
to do is shove their damn pride in their back pockets and learn how to stick it out with a sister who will support them,” she said. “But
no!
All I hear are brothers talking about how the white man has his foot on their neck and how they can’t get a break, and all that other bullshit, as if
we’ve
had it easy as black women.

“Now, we never talk about it much, because I’m not really into the class and money thing, but I make a little more than you do right now, and I’m a strong sister with two growing sons, and yet you’re not intimidated by me. So what are your thoughts on your
own
situation? How come
you
were able to stick it out?”

I nodded. “Good question,” I said. My answer to that was simple. “I look past all of that other stuff because I am really into you. So, I guess that would be my reason. I love you as a person too much to care about everything else.”

Denise smiled and held my hand across the table. “Well, maybe that’s the answer then. Maybe more brothers need to learn how to care more about the women they love and less about everything else that gets in the way.”

“Hmmph,” I grunted. “That’s
much
easier said than done.”

“Well,
you’ve
done it. And it’s paid off. So you need to go out and spread the word about it.”

I thought about that and started to laugh again. I was thinking about Larry on the job. “You know, Larry fell for a sister who has a newborn daughter, and he asked
me
for some advice on it. Can you believe that?”

I had talked to Denise about Larry a few times before.

“So, what did you tell him?”

“I told him to hang on in there and see what happens. And that’s what he’s been doing. So if
Larry
can make an about-face, then maybe that approach can work. Then again, brothers are gonna have to pick the right sisters to be into like that, because it won’t work if something crazy happens. I mean, you’re asking brothers to put an awful lot of trust in a sister.”

“And what do you think brothers ask us to do? ‘Have some faith in me, baby. Support your man. Trust me. Look out for me. Give me what I need when I need it. Don’t give up on me, baby.’ What’s all of that about?” she asked me.

I laughed. Denise knew brothers too well. I said, “Okay, you’ve made your point. I can’t argue with that.”

“Trust goes both ways,” she added. “Too many brothers take us for granted, and that’s gonna have to stop. They’re going to have to get motivated and start taking us seriously, because we don’t have
time
to play. And more of these immature brothers need to wake up and stop complaining so much and try and take some control over their lives with a little responsibility.

“That’s what I’m trying to teach my sons now,” she said. “My little sister, too. You get what you work for in life. But too many of us are out here looking for freebies.”

“Amen to that,” I told her. By that point, I was stuffed. “You got any room left for ice cream? I know I sure don’t.”

Denise smiled. “Yeah, I could eat some ice cream. What kind do you have?”

“I have some Breyers strawberry, chocolate and vanilla, butter pecan, and coffee.
And
I have Klondike bars.”

“Sounds like you have a lot,” she commented with a laugh.

“Yeah, ice cream is my thing. I never was into cake and sweets.”

“You could have fooled me,” Denise joked.

“Watch out now,” I warned her. “So, what is it gonna be?”

“Ah, give me a Klondike bar, I haven’t had one of those in a while.”

I stood up and began putting the food away. Then I pulled out two Klondike bars from the freezer.

“I thought you said you were too full for ice cream,” I was reminded.

“Yeah, but not for a Klondike bar. I could eat five of them, and it wouldn’t ruffle a feather.”

“I see. Well, maybe you need to give me three then.”

I broke out laughing. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious. I’m still hungry,” she told me with a grin.

“For food?”

“For whatever,” she teased.

“Watch out now,” I warned her again. I went back to the freezer to see how many Klondike bars I had left.

Denise said, “I don’t need three of those things. Just give me one.”

“Are you sure? Because I don’t want you to go home thinking that I starved you.”

“No, you didn’t
starve
me, you just took my plate away too early.”

Denise was on a roll that night. I said, “You’re having a good time with this, hunh? Do you want some more spaghetti?”

“No, I’m just teasing, Dennis. But I
do
want a Klondike bar,” she said
with her hand out. She had her hand too low to be asking for ice cream. I started giggling like a kid who had a secret.

“Come on, now, give it to me,” Denise insisted.

I said, “I’ll give it to you all right.”

We were both having some good and fresh fun.

“I hope I won’t be hungry anymore after this,” she said.

“Oh, you won’t be. Not after I give you this Klondike bar.” I set it in her hand gently, as if it could break.

She smiled and said, “Are you trying to send me a subliminal message with that?”

“Maybe I am.”

“Well, it’s working.”

We shared another laugh as we worked on our Klondike bars and stared at each other hungrily.

“Would you like to dance when your food settles?” I asked her.

She frowned. “Where, at a club or something?”

I said, “No. I’m talking about right here on my waxed hardwood floors.”

“Oh. I thought you were talking about going to a club or something. Because, shit, I ain’t been to a club in years. What dances are they doing now anyway?”

“Beats me. The Butterfly was the last one that I knew about.”

Denise looked at me and said, “Now, you know good and well we’re too old to be out there opening and closing our legs on some sweaty dance floor.”

“Age is just a number, baby.”

“Yeah, but stiff bones ain’t. And I haven’t used mine like that in a good while.”

“It’s never too late,” I told her.

“Oh, yes it is. When it comes to my body it is.”

“You’re not out of shape,” I told her. “Your body looks damned good! And I
mean
that!”

“Hmmph,” she grunted. “Don’t let these curves fool you.”

“It’s already too late for that,” I responded.

When we finished our chocolate-covered ice cream bars, I pulled Denise over to dance in my living room against her will.

“Dennis, you’re gonna make me hurt something,” she whined.

“Aww, don’t tell me that the superwoman is afraid to dance. Please, don’t tell me that,” I teased.

“Okay, okay,” she cried, finally giving in.

I went back over to my CD player and put in five seventies classic collections.

“Oh my God, you done lost your mind!” she hollered at me.

“Naw, now, the seventies had the best music! It’s
Dance Fever
time, Momma.”

She laughed and said, “Okay, Daddy-O. Whatever you say.”

Denise turned out to have more energy than I thought she would. We must have danced through two CDs. I hadn’t had that much fun in a while! But by the time we got to the third one, the slow songs just took over.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you were trying to seduce me,” Denise commented. I was beginning to kiss her neck and fiddle with her earlobes.

“I guess you don’t know any better then, because that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

The next thing I knew, Denise was squeezing my ass and smiling at me.

“Now what do you call that?” I asked her.

“I figured I’d give you some of your own medicine.”

“We’re seducing each other now? Is that it?”

“I guess so.

“Love T.K.O.,” the classic from Teddy Pendergrass, came on, and Denise and I proceeded to wrestle tongues.

I paused for a second and looked into her eyes. “I’m not letting you go,” I told her.

She smiled and said, “Well, don’t.” Then we went back to wrestling tongues and added the squeezing of hips.

I whispered, “Will you let me do what I want tonight?”

“It depends on what that is.”

“Everything you could imagine.”

“Everything? Hmmph. Not hardly,” she doubted.

“You have some extras moves then. Is that it?”

“I may have a thing or two extra,” she answered with a kiss.

“So, you’ve been holding back on me. When am I gonna get the full package?”

Denise burst out laughing. “The
full
package?”

“That’s what I said.” I slid a hand right up the side of her dress like a cobra reacting to a flute.

“I think something’s on my thigh,” she teased. “And now it’s on my ass.”

“Does that something feel good to you?”

“Maybe it does.”

“So, what are you gonna do about it?”

She smiled. “Imagine what it’s going to do next.”

I slid my hand inside of her panty line. “What’s it doing now?” I asked with a grin.

“Invading my privacy.”

I laughed. “Is that so? Are you about to call the cops for trespassing?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m about to give this trespasser the scare of a lifetime.”

Denise reached down and grabbed my crotch.

I said, “Oh. That seems more like the
thrill
of a lifetime.”

“Not if he doesn’t know what I’m going to do with it.”

I started to smile and back out of range. “Say what?”

“Mmm hmm,” Denise hummed. “See how easily I can scare him?”

“Yeah, well, you got that right,” I told her.

Then she pulled my face to hers and kissed me with all tongue. Suddenly my ears stopped working. I could only taste, see, touch, and smell. And Denise tasted as good as she looked, felt, and smelled. It was all beautiful; two adults with the time, place, and peace of mind to fully enjoy each other’s company. We stripped each other naked right there in the middle of the living room. Then we traveled to the bedroom, hand in hand, like a contemporary Adam and Eve, giggling at our naturalness, and were ready to enjoy what the Creator had given us to share.

was riding the train in from work after eight in the morning on a cold day in December. I didn’t mean to, but I happened to eavesdrop on a fat black man talking to a friend about buying Christmas presents for his five kids, and for his nieces and nephews.

“It’s that time of the year, man. So every new year in January, I start off broke. I mean, you’re looking at the real Santa Claus over here. And most of them damn toys are lost, broke, or forgotten about by summertime.”

His tall, thin friend shook his head, pitying him. “I’d just stop doing it if I was you.”

“I can’t. Everybody’s gotten used to it. I’ve been doing this for three years now.”

“Yeah, well, they’d have to get
unused to it
if it was me,” his friend responded.

My stop arrived, and I stood up to exit with Christmas presents on my mind. My first thought on the subject was that I would only buy things that would last for a while, or things that would definitely be used. I could thank my friend, “Mr. Real Santa Claus,” for that. I didn’t have any money to waste, and I was tired of being broke. It hadn’t been just in the month of January for me, so I had to watch my money a lot more carefully, especially since I had begun splitting the rent money and grocery bills with Kim. Not to mention all of the intangible money that I
was spending on entertaining Jamal and getting his hair cut. I was spending more money on him than I did on my own son.