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Authors: Kimberla Lawson Roby

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BOOK: Taste of Reality
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At eleven o’clock, although I never drank coffee, I decided to walk over to the small break room to have a croissant. One of the secretaries was celebrating a birthday and had brought in a couple of trays of them. Lunchtime was only an hour away, but since I was planning to work right through it and leave an hour early, I decided I would grab something quick to tide me over.

But when I entered the room, I regretted making that decision. Frank turned and smiled as soon as he heard me walk in.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said.

I couldn’t believe he was calling me that.

“How are you, Frank?” I acknowledged. Then I looked around, wishing another employee would join us. Having lunch with him was one thing, but standing in a room all alone with him was another. I didn’t trust what else he might say or do, but worse, I didn’t trust my own feelings.

“I’m fine, now that I’ve seen you,” he said.

“You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Why? You’re not going to file a sexual harassment claim against me, are you?” he asked, smiling.

“I don’t know. I might.” There was no humor in my tone.

“You’re not serious,” he said, and I laughed, because I could tell he was slightly worried that he’d crossed the line with the wrong person.

“Jeez. You scared me for a minute.”

I reached for a napkin and grabbed a croissant.

“So then when are you going to let me take you out?”

“Frank, we’ve already been through this before, so why are you asking me that?” I said, but didn’t turn to face him. I pretended I was concentrating on the croissant I was eating.

“Why can’t you look at me?” he asked.

I didn’t want to believe he was being so personal, but what was more unbelievable was that my heart was beating much too rapidly. He had an effect on me that I didn’t like, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle it. All I could think to do was to leave the room. But that was too easy, of course.

“I
can
look at you. But you’re always making me feel so uncomfortable.”

“I make you feel uncomfortable because you really do want to go out with me.”

He was right, but I didn’t admit it.

“Just give it a chance, Anise. All I’m asking is for us to go to dinner. You can even drive your own car if you want to.”

“I’m married, Frank, and I’ve told you that before.”

“I know, and I’m real sorry that you are, but I can’t help how attracted I am to you or how much I like you.”

“I have to go,” I said for lack of anything to say. Then I turned and walked away.

“It’s going to be hard for me to leave you alone, because I’ve seen the way you look at me. That is, unless you stop right now and tell me that you’re not attracted to me, that you’re going to try and work things out with your husband and that I’m the last person on this earth you want to be with.”

I stood still, tried to repeat what he’d just said, but the next thing I knew, I was on my way back to my office. I hadn’t looked at him, I’d just walked out of there in a hurry. I’d wanted to tell him to leave me alone, but like him, I knew I didn’t want that. Deep down inside I wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with me, and I didn’t know how much longer I was going to be able to prevent it from happening. I felt like a hypocrite, because part of the reason I was so angry with David was that he’d left me for a white woman. But here I was trying to settle my racing heart because of how emotional I became when I was near Frank.

What was a woman to do in a situation like this? I was married, and I’d never dated outside my race. But on the other hand, my husband was sleeping with another woman. I needed to be careful with any decision I made, though, because with everything I was going through, I was much too vulnerable. I was too eager to find happiness of any kind, and I had to make sure that I thought long and hard before making an irreparable mistake. I had to concentrate on my job predicament first, and then I’d deal with Frank later—if I was going to deal with him at all.

 

CHAPTER 12

 

I
DROVE
into the health club’s parking lot and waited for the downpour to cease. The rain pounded so hard that I couldn’t see a thing through my windshield. I sat back and relaxed, though, because I knew it wouldn’t last more than a few minutes since the sun was still shining. I wondered if the devil really was beating his wife like my grandparents used to claim. I’d always laughed when they discussed superstitious beliefs such as that. But deep down I knew the devil wasn’t abusing his wife any more than people were receiving seven years of bad luck for breaking a mirror. Actually, my grandmother had quite a few things you couldn’t and shouldn’t do for one reason or another. You couldn’t split a post if you were walking side by side with someone; instead you both had to pass it on the same side. You couldn’t brush the top of anyone’s feet with a broom. You couldn’t bring eggs inside the house after sundown. No female of any kind could enter your
house on New Year’s Day until a man had visited first.

I, of course, had done all of the above. I’d broken quite a few mirrors during my adult life, I didn’t always walk on the same side of a
post as the person I was with—especially if it wasn’t convenient—and I couldn’t count the number of times I’d gone shopping at the market well after dark, purchased eggs and brought them inside the house with the rest of my groceries. I didn’t abide by any of those rules, but Mom still took Grandma’s superstitions quite seriously and never tried to resist them.

Monica pulled up next to me in her black Navigator and waved. We both sat patiently for another ten minutes, and when the showers finally cleared, we stepped out of our vehicles.

“Where did that come from?” Monica asked.

“I don’t know, but I guess we needed it, since it’s been so dry.”

“You’re right about that. Marc was just complaining yesterday about all the brown patches spread across our lawn.”

“We have the same problem. You’d think the in-ground sprinklers would make a difference, but they haven’t kept the lawn as green as they usually do. Well, I guess I shouldn’t say that, though, because if we didn’t have them, the grass would actually look worse.”

“There’s no doubt about it. And, hey, did you remember to bring your towel and toiletries so we can sit in the sauna for a while?” Monica asked.

“I have them right here.” I raised my duffel bag to show her. I knew she was asking because I almost always forgot to bring what I needed whenever we met to work out. So much so that I eventually packed my bag with a beach towel, shower gel, deodorant and lotion and kept it in my SUV at all times.

We went inside, showed our ID tags and headed for the locker room. We were both already dressed in shorts and T-shirts, but needed to change into our socks and gym shoes.

“So how’d everything go at work today?” she asked, tying one of her shoelaces.

“So-so. I found out that Jim didn’t tell the third candidate that the job was on hold. And I’m willing to bet that he didn’t tell Kelli Jacobson either. That ‘hold’ situation is primarily being done because of me. But the one good thing, or at least I think it could
be a good thing, is that they’ve posted another managerial job opening.”

“Oh really? Doing what?”

“The person in this position would oversee the manufacturing portion of human resources—things like recruiting hourly employees and supervising the HR specialists who work with those employees. You know, that kind of stuff.”

“So it is management then?” Monica asked.

“Yeah,” I said, pulling on my other shoe. “But it wouldn’t allow me to work with corporate employees. Which means I wouldn’t be involved with recruiting any professional staff or any executives.”

“Yeah, but maybe this job would be your foot in the door when the one on hold is finally released.”

“That’s my thinking exactly. I don’t think they’ll necessarily give it to me as soon as it’s off hold, but I’m hoping they would the next time it’s vacant.”

“Well, maybe this is your answer. Maybe this will mean you won’t have to file a complaint against them.”

“That’s what I’m hoping. Because, Monica, I’d really prefer not to, if at all possible. I just don’t feel like going through any legal battles. But Lorna, my friend at work, doesn’t think I should apply for the manufacturing position because I deserve the corporate one.”

“I agree that you deserve it, too, but since they’re fighting you so hard, and it’s causing so much animosity, maybe this is a better choice. I don’t want to see you backing down to a bunch of racist white men, but the bottom line is that, right or wrong, they still run things.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. It was something about the way Monica said, “They still run things.” It made me cringe. I knew she was right, and that’s why none of this sat well with me. They had every right to “run things” because of the positions they held at the company, but they didn’t have the right to be unfair, break the law
and say, “Black girl, take what we’re giving you, and shut the hell up.” Which is exactly what I would be allowing them to say if I gave in and took that manufacturing position.

“They do run things, but that doesn’t give them the right to abuse their power at the expense of other people and their careers,” I said.

“No, it doesn’t, but maybe if you take this job, things will be different next time. I’m not saying that the way they’ve treated you is right, but I don’t want to see you keep going through all of this madness either. You’re upset about both your marriage and Reed Meyers, and I can tell that it’s wearing you down. That’s why I called you this morning to see if you wanted to come work out this evening.”

“I know, and I’m glad you did,” I said, and stood up when two other members walked into the locker room, sat their things down on the bench next to us and started removing their clothing. Unlike us, they hadn’t gone home to change, and still had on business suits.

We shoved our belongings into our assigned lockers, removed the keys and went out to the area where the aerobic machines were located. Our ritual was to walk thirty minutes on the treadmill and then do upper- and lower-body weights. There were television screens lined across the wall, so I went and picked up the remote control and selected my favorite channel, Lifetime. Monica chose BET like she always did, because she preferred walking to music.

I straddled the center of the treadmill, entered my age and weight and then selected the fat-burning program. I waited for the machine to pick up speed, pulled on my headphones and then stepped onto the belt. Monica did the same and was already bobbing her head to one of Janet Jackson’s latest videos. I laughed when I saw Sophia of
The Golden Girls
wearing a robe and carrying her handbag into the kitchen. She never left it anywhere, and I laughed even louder when she suddenly called Blanche a slut.

We walked, and before I knew it, the treadmill switched into the cooldown mode. That meant I only had five more minutes before going to lift weights. I’d thought about this job dilemma on and off the whole thirty minutes, but I’d pretty much decided that I was going to call Jim as soon as I arrived at work tomorrow to express my interest in the manufacturing position. I didn’t know what his response was going to be, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t have a problem with it. I knew Lorna wasn’t going to be happy with my decision, but I had to go with my gut feeling. I had to at least try to make things work out while I was still working for the company. There weren’t a lot of large corporations in the city, and Reed Meyers was truly where I wanted to keep working if I could. Especially since the pay was decent and it allowed me to live near my mother. Not to mention the fact that I had already invested several years with them and it wouldn’t be good to give up my seniority
and start somewhere else. Again.

We finished the cooldown, wiped perspiration from our foreheads and made our way over to the Lifecycle machines. Monica started, and I followed behind her with us each doing two sets of twelve reps on every machine. I loved doing weights, and although a lot of women worried about buffing up too much, all weights actually did was tone your muscles. That is, as long as you weren’t overdoing it by lifting way too much, because then you could start looking pretty thick.

When we finished with the last piece of equipment, we returned to the locker room, removed our clothing and entered the sauna. It was already set to Monica’s liking, which was still too hot for me, but I tolerated it. I enjoyed it, because the heat always relaxed me and opened my pores, and I felt so refreshed when I took a cool shower right after.

“So have you heard from David?” Monica asked with her eyes closed.

“No, not since Friday. But I told you about that craziness already.”

“Hmmph. I still can’t believe he called you a bitch and then had the nerve to trip about the color of your skin.”

“I couldn’t either, but I should have known with the way he always made comments about other dark-skinned people. It was the same old thing all the time. Somebody was beautiful, but they were dark. Somebody could be beautiful if they weren’t so dark. Somebody needed to go lace some chemicals around their edges. Somebody needed some plastic surgery to tone down their facial features.”

“But that’s not even logical, because I know a number of attractive dark-skinned women like you, and at the same time I know light-skinned women who aren’t attractive at all,” Monica said. “Hell, I’m light-skinned myself, but we both know Marc is as dark as a brother can be.”

“And he’s as fine as they come, too,” I added, and we both laughed.

“That he is.” Monica beamed.

“But, girl, David has a problem with being black in general. He wasn’t like that when I met him—well, maybe just a little, but not nearly the way he is now. He almost hates the fact that he’s black, because he really thinks life would be so much better for him if he was white. He won’t even hire any black employees unless he absolutely has to. He speaks about black people in a derogatory way all the time and doesn’t see a thing wrong with it.”

“That’s too bad, because one day he’s going to wake up and realize he doesn’t fit in with black people or white.”

BOOK: Taste of Reality
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