Tappin' On Thirty (18 page)

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Authors: Candice Dow

BOOK: Tappin' On Thirty
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As all the questions that plagued me trudged through my head, I huffed. The anger I felt when it first happened returned and my blood sugar began to rise. My right hand clamped tightly around a fork, as I stared into her eyes.
“I'm just saying.”
“You're just saying what?”
The sound of the garage interrupted us. She stood up straight. “All I'm saying is that I'm not the only one that has something to say about your lifestyle.”
“My lifestyle?”
“Your lifestyle.”
My mother opened the door that led into the kitchen. An expression of uncertainty and joy sat on her face. She looked around to make sure nothing was broken. She smiled at me. Then, at Toni.
Toni ignored my mother's presence and said, “Let's go upstairs.”
I ignored her and pretended to be preoccupied with helping my mother get dinner together.
My mother wasn't sure if we were getting along or not, because she appeared on edge each time either of us breathed. Scooter was on his way and I wasn't prepared to heal the ugly wounds that had torn our sisterhood apart.
I walked out of the kitchen. Toni tagged along. I turned around and huffed. She was probably betting that I'd be anxious to settle our issues. Too little, too late to learn to love. I smirked and opened the bathroom door.
Toni grabbed my shoulders. I turned to see what she wanted. She obviously had a lot on her mind. As tears filled her eyes, I felt I should grant her the opportunity to say what was on her chest.
I looked at her as if to say, “Say what you have to say.”
She stuck the tip of her chin into her black turtle neck. “Taylor, I was wrong.”
I shrugged my shoulders. She had done and said so many cruel things about me, simply because I was single. As if it was my fault for not finding some guy who wanted to marry me by the time I was twenty-four. “Toni, I really, I . . .”
She touched my hand. “I have prayed about our relationship, and I want it to be better.”
Her grown-up act scared me. Was I ready to abandon my bitterness toward her? I curled my lips because I wasn't sure. Her eyes watered. “How can I teach my kids how to love each other and I can't even get along with my sister?”
Our childhood played in her eyes. My parents never allowed us to go to bed angry. When we fought, they locked us in a room until we got it together. How had we grown so far apart? I blinked and returned to the present. She didn't understand the struggle. My struggle. In her eyes, single translated to wild. I was out of hand for the cards God dealt me.
“Taylor, I'm sorry.”
“Taylor, say something. I miss you,” she begged.
As I sat there searching for what I wanted to say, I wasn't sure. Why did I feel I couldn't forgive her, when I expected Scooter to forgive me? I stretched my arms out to hug her. As we embraced, she repeated, “I'm so sorry Taylor. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Taylor, talk to me.”
I chuckled. She laughed too. That was always how it was. She always got on me because I was the loquacious one, but she could never handle it when I wouldn't talk. Hoping my words changed my heart, I rolled my eyes. “All right, Toni, I forgive you. Now I have to pee.”
She chuckled. “Thank you, Tay. Thank you.”
I closed the door and sat on the toilet. A part of me was elated that the friction between us was partially settled, but doubt settled in me. Was she only interested in our relationship, because it appeared that I was in a relationship? I was baffled. Why now?
When I came from the bathroom, Scooter and my father walked in through the garage. I stepped into the kitchen. My father grabbed me. I leaned to wrap my arms around his large belly. “Hey, Daddy.”
He kissed my cheek. “You sure looked beautiful in church today.”
I smirked and Scooter nodded. “I agree Bishop.”
We all laughed. Toni hugged Scooter. “I'm happy to see you again, brother.”
We transferred into the family room while my mother got things together. Scooter and I sat next to each other on the couch. My father stood in front of us. We scooted apart to allow his three-hundred pounds in between. He rested his hand on my knee and took a deep breath. “My Taylor.”
Somehow I think he thought Scooter could convert me into the devout Christian I was as a teenager. He rolled his neck over to Scooter. “Son, what are your plans for my daughter.”
I leaned up to check Scooter's expression. He smiled. “Our plan is to be together.”
My father frowned. Scooter said, “I plan to marry her.”
Huh? Marry me? We just declared ourselves a couple. His ex-girlfriend just called my house. My heart raced inside of me. My father chuckled and patted my knee, silently telling me a job well done.
Despite all of my accomplishments thus far, Toni and my mother looked like I'd finally had a notable achievement. Toni raised her thumb up. My mother winked. Excitement beamed on everyone's face. By golly, Taylor has found someone to marry her. I sat bewildered. What the hell was Scooter thinking?
33
SCOOTER
T
aylor's jaw dropped when I told her father my intentions. I wished I'd been prepared for that question. Unconsciously, I said what I thought he wanted to hear. It's not like he could arrest me if I didn't follow through. As I envisioned my future with Taylor, I reluctantly turned my phone on. Still, Akua hadn't called. She hadn't texted me.
As I drove home to the unknown, I inhaled so much nicotine, it ain't even funny. In all of two months, I went from an upstanding recovering nicotine addict, in a stable relationship, to an addict in between relationships. Something has to give. I paged her again. By the time I reached the New Jersey Turnpike, she called back.
“What the fuck do you want?”
“Are you okay?”
“You don't give a fuck how I feel.”
I huffed. “I do.”
“I talked to your bitch yesterday.”
“I know.”
“I moved your shit to the other room.”
“Ku, how are you doing?”
She retorted, “It doesn't matter.”
“Are you already back on your feet?”
“I had to go to work.”
“You could have gotten someone to cover for you.”
“What should I do? Tell them that my boyfriend left me and I ran behind him and sliced my feet all up. I can't work.”
“Ku, c'mon now. You don't have to get into all of that.”
“Don't tell me what I need to get into. There's no telling what you been into this weekend.”
I guess the thought was too much for her to bear, since the phone slammed in my ear. I closed my phone and turned up the music to drown the doubt floating through my head.
 
My dirty clothes were thrown in the corner of the second bedroom. Akua had dumped all my shit on the small twin bed. For hours, I aimlessly attempted to organize this mess I'd made. When hunger pains pierced through my side, I checked the time. 11:54
P.M.
I'd been fumbling around the house for three hours and Akua still hadn't made her way home.
I called her on her cell phone. She didn't answer. I went into the kitchen to find something to eat. The refrigerator was empty. I swung cabinets open.
Nothing
. I returned to the same cabinets just to make sure.
Still nothing
. I stood there realizing how I ended up in a serious relationship. These types of things don't occur when a woman is in the house. Frustration forced me to dial Akua again. I began pacing the floor. She had to go to work in less than five hours. Where could she be?
I went into the bedroom to check the closet. Her stuff was still there. Why was there no food in the house? Every thing in New Haven had shut down. Shit! I was about to starve. Damn! I forgot to call Taylor when I walked in the house. I rushed into the bedroom to find my cell phone. Then, I heard Akua's key in the door. I rushed back to the living room. She limped in carrying a Styrofoam container. I stood in front of her like I had a right to inquire about her whereabouts. She sucked her teeth and brushed past me and stormed into the bedroom, taking her food with her. My stomach barked after the aroma lingering behind her. I knocked on the bedroom door.
“Hey, Ku.”
She didn't answer, but I was determined to get her leftovers. I tried the door, but she'd locked it. “Where's all the food?”
It sounded as if she laughed. I sucked up my anger and asked again, “What happened to the food?”
This time she made her humor known. In between chuckles, she said, “It left when you left.”
“C'mon. I'm starving.”
I heard her hopping around and suddenly the door swung open. When she tossed the food container at me, I cradled it. Before I could thank her, she slammed the door. She mumbled, “Next time make sure your bitch feeds you before you come home.”
I shrugged off her rude comment. Half of a grilled chicken breast and a small pile of mashed potatoes were inside. I rushed to the kitchen and gobbled down the food. Seconds passed and everything got hazy. I took deep breaths to revive myself. Suddenly, I began to feel nauseous. I ran to the bathroom. My head spun in circles as I kneeled by the toilet bowl, purging everything I'd just eaten. Maybe I'd eaten too fast. Too tired to investigate, I staggered into my room and closed my eyes. My mind called Taylor but my muscles were too weak to move. I knew she'd be upset but my eyelids lowered and lowered. I was out.
When loud music blasted throughout my apartment minutes later, I looked at the clock. 5:02
A.M.
I lifted up to yell at her, but my head collapsed on the pillow. Despite the loud racket, I dozed off.
When my alarm clock rang in my ear, I pressed snooze. After my ten minute break, I looked up to find that it was after eight. Shit! I checked my alarm. It was set for 6:30. How did I sleep for an hour and a half with it buzzing in my ear? As I attempted to roll out of bed, my body was still sedated. When I finally found the shower, the water splashing in my face awoke my understanding. Akua intentionally tried to make me sick. I felt the same as I did when I'd taken Percocet after my tooth was extracted.
After I jumped out of the shower, I hunted for the painkillers. They weren't in the medicine cabinet where I'd last seen the bottle. I rushed into her bedroom and looked in the nightstand. As I stood there with the bottle in my hand, I couldn't believe she would stoop so low. Did she plan to do it or was it a last minute decision as I stood at her door begging for food. Whatever the case she was making my decision that much easier.
In the midst of my investigation, I remembered that I was almost two hours late for work. I rushed into my room. My pager buzzed on the desk. I didn't check it because I knew it was the hospital. I searched for clean scrubs. Everything was dirty. I went back into Akua's bedroom, hoping she'd inadvertently washed some of mine. Her scrubs were folded neatly at the top of the closet. I lifted each set and prayed I'd find a 2XL hidden in there somewhere.
Nothing
. I shook out my least soiled pair and sprayed some Febreze on them and left for work.
When I got to the hospital, I searched for Akua. Trying to suppress my anger, I calmly asked, “Did you put Percocet in the food I ate last night?”
She smirked. “Don't ask stupid questions.”
“I know you did.”
“Dr. Evans, I'm on my way to surgery. Can we discuss your issues later?”
I said, “Ku. That's some crazy stuff. Why did you stoop to that? I found them in your nightstand.”
She glared at me. “Did you ever think I needed them for my pain?”
I looked down at her bandaged foot and walked in the other direction. Maybe all of this drama was what was making me sick.
34
TAYLOR
W
hy does it seem that most of Scooter's communication involves apologies? I looked at his text message: SORRY BABY. BY THE TIME I FINISHED MOVING THINGS INTO THE OTHER BEDROOM, IT WAS 2 LATE 2 CALL. WILL CALL U SOON. MISS U.
I huffed. How is it that when he is with me, I know he is sincere, but the second we part I question everything. As much as Akua's phone call upset me, it confirmed Scooter's honesty. Still, I was vexed.
Frustrated by my situation, I caught myself storming through the office with an attitude. I closed the door to my office just because I didn't want to be bothered. My voice mail light blinked. I listened to my message. I was delighted to find there were no stalkers, but irritated to see it was now 10:00 and I hadn't spoken to Scooter.
I opened Microsoft Outlook and noticed I had too much e-mail for a Monday morning. I looked at the subject to decide what I wanted to read first. The majority of the e-mail was work related. Then, “I Love My People” jumped out of the monitor. I love my people? Devin Patterson. Oh my goodness! The guy from the Congressional Black Caucus. I forgot about him.
I anxiously selected the message. He opened the message reintroducing himself and explaining that he gave his card to Courtney. I recalled her telling me that, but I was all preoccupied with my new boyfriend that it fell on deaf ears. He proceeded to ask me about Katherine. Katherine wanted me to meet him. He's a union consultant. Okay, this was all too eerie.
Before responding, I went to find Katherine. I trapped her inside the break room. “Katherine, remember some months back. You were in that legislative meeting.”
She frowned. “Yeah and that fine New York attorney was there that I tried to hook you up with.”
“Do you know I met him? He just e-mailed me.”
Her eyes danced in her head. “And . . .”
“I'm wondering how he put two and two together. Have you talked to him since?”
“No. I didn't exchange info with the man. I was trying to hook you up.”
I kidded. “For the record, I'm taken now. You don't have to worry about hooking me up anymore.”
Knowing she'd follow, I turned to leave. “Who's the lucky man?”
“Um. Remember I told you about Scooter?”
She nodded. I blushed. “Well.”
A huge smile spread across her face. Then, she immediately frowned. “I thought you said he had a girlfriend.”
“He left her.”
“Taylor, you're lying.”
As she began to ask more questions about my situation, insecurity stormed into the room. As Katherine examined me, I began to feel silly.
Despite the nonsense answers I gave, I realized that people want to marry you off at all cost. She was onboard with my drama the second I told her that Scooter felt like I was the one.
When I got back into my office, I read Devin Patterson's message again and decided to reply. A friendly message never hurt anyone. I told him that I, too, thought it was ironic that of all people at the caucus, we ran into one another when Katherine was so pressed to introduce us. I also mentioned how much I enjoyed dancing with him.
I called Courtney to tell her that Katherine was trying to hook me up with “I Love My People.” As we began to giggle about the irony of the meeting, she said, “He seems like a smooth dude.”
“Yeah, he seems cool.”
Disregarding the fact that I was really now in a relationship, she joked. “You better holla.”
My new message alert sounded. Devin Patterson. I laughed. “Girl, “I Love My People” just responded.”
“What did he say?”
I glanced at the message, skipping a few lines. In a nutshell, he wanted to hang out for drinks between now and Thursday. Courtney coaxed me to respond. I did and agreed to hang out tonight. When I pressed SEND, the new e-mail alert sounded simultaneously. Scooter. Oh yeah, I forgot I was pissed off with him. An American Greeting has been sent to you.
I opened the greeting card. His ability to express himself so eloquently is a quality that few men possess. As I sat full of anger, his words dismantled my frustration. It was a thank you card. He told me how special he felt to have me in his world and despite our troubles he thanks God every morning for our reunion. XOXO.
Courtney chatted in my ear as I gazed at the greeting card. This is why I had to go and take Kuku's man. How many men are so affectionate? Sorry Kuku. I'm in it to win it.
A new message from Devin popped up as I daydreamed about Scooter. He asked if I had a preference. I responded not really. He sent the agenda. He had tickets to a Wizards game and we'd eat at the DC Chophouse prior to the game. Wait! I thought we were just hanging out. Oh whatever. Dinner and a good game were always up my alley.
I left work early enough to change and get downtown by 6:00. As I ran around the house deciding what to wear, I took a deep breath. I have a man. And besides I had such a good time the night of the Black Party, Devin was a blur. I searched for an outfit that was not too sexy and not too conservative. If he wasn't as fine as Courtney and Katherine claimed he was I didn't want to be too provocative. Clothes were scattered all around my room. I checked the clock. I had forty-five minutes. When I turned on the shower, “Ring The Alarm” played on my cell phone. Shit! Trapped between my phone and the running water, I made the decision to call Scooter on my way to the restaurant.
I paged Scooter when I got in the car. He called right back. Excited about my outing, it slipped my mind that I was supposed to be mad. I picked up with the beat of the song ringing in my head. I sang, “I'll be damn if I see another chick on your arm.”
He chuckled. “Hey baby.”
“So, you come here, sex me up. Have your girl calling my house and stuff. You leave and I don't hear from you for twenty-four hours. What's up with that?”
“Tay, you know it's not like that. Right?”
“No, not really.”
He chuckled, but sounded more like he wanted to cry. “When I got home yesterday, she had moved all of my shit in the other room, taken all the food out of the house. I was running around like a chicken with my head cut off. This morning, I got to work late, because she woke up blasting music. It took me an hour to get back to sleep.” He huffed. “This shit is stressful.”
Yada. Yada. Yada. A part of me sympathized with him. The other part of me understood Akua. She wanted him to suffer. I wanted to be there to help, but he needed to man-up and figure out how to take care of himself again.
As I entered the restaurant, I still chatted on the phone. “Hey, baby, I'm going to dinner with Courtney. I'll call you when I get in.”
“Okay, baby. Look forward to talking to you.”
“I love you.”
He coughed. “I love you, too. Talk to you later.”
I looked around and saw Devin. Damn. They were right. He was fine. His short hair cut and groomed six o'clock shadow made me blush. I walked toward him. He was a militant brother. He wore a black blazer with a black T-shirt underneath that had a red-and-green American flag with
WE BUILT THIS
underneath.
I smiled and said. “I like your T-shirt.”
He chuckled. “Déjà vu.”
“Could it be that you just wear shirts that strike up conversation?”
“It's not intentional.”
“So, you're trying to say that you don't wear these shirts to grab attention.”
He raised his right hand. “I swear.”
“That doesn't mean anything. You lie for a living, so you can do it with a straight face.”
We laughed. He extended his hand. “Let's start again. Hi, Taylor. I'm Devin Patterson. It's good to meet you.”
“Good to meet you, too.”
“Katherine spoke highly of you. I thought you were white, though.”
“Uh-huh. So, is that why you told Katherine you didn't want to meet me? You're prejudiced, huh?”
He chuckled. “Well, I know I don't look like it, but my mother is white. I don't have anything against white women, but I am more attracted to black women.” Smiling, he added, “Especially black women from the Maryland/DC, area.”
“Are you trying to flatter me?”
He chuckled. “Maybe just a little, but I think God sprinkled too much black beauty in this little area. It's crazy.”
“You're funny.”
“No. Actually, I'm very serious.”
As we diverted to the women in The District being attractive, it dawned on me what he said initially. My forehead wrinkled. “Did you say your mother was white?”
“Yep.”
I couldn't see it, but I guess he had no reason to lie. My eyes must have twitched back and forth, searching for the slightest inkling of biracial decent. Recognizing my confusion, he chuckled. “I know. I don't look like it, right?”
I smiled. He smiled. “It's okay. I know.”
We were seated. After I browsed through the menu, I asked. “So do you live here or New York.”
“Both.”
I smirked. “Okay. That makes sense.”
“You're funny. You know that, right?”
“If you say so. Why do you live in both places?”
“Well, I run two branches of the family law firm.”
“And what firm is that?”
“Patterson and Patterson.”
“I don't think I've ever heard of them.”
“Well, we're just trying to make a presence in DC. This is primarily a personal venture for me. This branch is specially geared toward the legislative community. My New York branch is geared toward real estate, investments, and things of that sort.”
“So, you're all over the place.”
“Nope, I have plans.”
The waiter came to take our order. I immediately returned to his plans. “So, what is your ultimate plan?”
“Ultimately, I'd like to be in the House of Congress.”
I smirked. “One of them, huh?”
We laughed. His admiration for me seemed to be growing. I found him quite charming, too. I asked, “So besides the professional Devin, what's your story?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Whatever you want to tell me. Whatever you think defines you.”
“Why don't you tell me your story and then I'll know what it is you're looking to hear.”
Without hesitation, I said. “I love life. I have two sisters. I fall in the middle. My father is a pastor of a huge Baptist church. I grew up in Bowie, Maryland. No kids.” I paused. Should I tell him about my man that was still living with his ex-girlfriend? Nah, I kept that to myself.
“Interesting.”
“Interesting?”
He nodded. “Yes, interesting. I assumed that maybe your wedding band was in the shop for a cleaning or something.”
I kidded. “So, do you usually take married women out to dinner?”
His flirtatious comment backfired. He chuckled. “Nah, actually, I don't. I was just messing with you. I knew you weren't married.”
“Are you married?”
“Yep.”
He smiled and reached in his back pocket for his wallet. He opened his wallet, and with pride he said, “Here's my wife. Isn't she beautiful?”
I peeped over at the picture and a beautiful little girl with a long, flowing pageboy smiled back at me. I smiled. “Is that your daughter? She is so beautiful.”
She looked more biracial than Devin. He took a look at the pretty little girl dressed in all white and smiled proudly. “That's daddy's little girl. Her name is Nicole.”
I admired the adoration twinkling in his eyes as he talked about Nicole. I sighed. “Aw.” I reached for his wallet again. “She is so adorable.” Trying to figure out the nationality of her mother, I commented, “Who does she look like?”
He tilted his head. “Me.”
“I guess I see a little of you in her.”
He laid the wallet on the bar. “A little?” He pointed. “She has my eyes.” He stretched his eyes open. His long lashes reached out and invited me in to fantasize the possibilities of us. “My nose. My lips.”
As he forced me to study his flawless features, I found myself grinning. So, I asked without being definitive, “And her mother?”
He smirked. “And her mother.” He chuckled. “We are good parents.” He paused. “She's an attorney. We went to Columbia together. We got married in our second year.” He shook his head. “Big mistake.”

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