Easier Said Than Done (18 page)

Keela rolled her eyes. This topic was a sore spot with her since she tended to attract men who were either married, had a girlfriend, horny for someone else, or happened to meet that someone special while with Keela. At the end of the relationship, all Keela had was a drawer full of empty promises.

She sucked the salt off a finger. “I don't see what the attraction is. Why would you want to be relegated to sneaking in back doors, checking into hotel rooms under assumed names, and
accepting only stolen minutes? I mean, it's really becoming an epidemic, especially with black women; and I, for one, am tired of seeing families ruined by women trading one straying husband for another, tired of children who are depressed because daddy doesn't live here anymore. How can we teach our children to seek the truth when we as women are lying to everyone including ourselves? We not only owe it to ourselves, but to other women to honor vows and commitment. What happened to family structure and just plain old-fashioned values? Black women have sacrificed since the beginning of time, during slavery so our kids wouldn't be sold off to another plantation, and we sacrifice now because we want our children to grow up in a two-parent household. Married women stand by their men because they made a commitment before God, but what about the commitment to our sisters? We can't expect others to respect us when we do not respect ourselves. A home should be a family's sanctuary. Cheating is singlehandedly sabotaging our families.”

I'd heard it all before and the pained expression on Essence's face told me she was thinking the same thing.

But Keela was on a roll. “I mean, how can a woman give her best when she's burdened by heartache and pain?”

Essence clapped slowly. “If you believe that, then I'm the Queen of Sheba.” She sucked her teeth. “Sharing men has been a reality since the beginning of time. Some women just don't
want all the drama that comes along with a relationship. I'd rather have a man I can send home to his woman. That way he doesn't have to be all up under me. Get used to it, ladies, no matter how faithful you think your man is, there's always someone else.”

Keela grabbed my arm, the proverbial light bulb flashed above her head. “You think he's found someone else?”

“Thanks, Keela, Essence, for this enlightening conversation. As if I'm not dealing with enough already,” I said. The thought of Damon finding someone new or renewing a relationship when he returned to Jamaica had crossed my mind; but until this moment, I didn't have to acknowledge it. Denial can be a wonderful thing until someone brings the thought to light through spoken word.

Essence said, “Men never fully sever ties with a woman they like, or more specifically a woman they like sleeping with.”

“Yeah, but there are some lines you just don't cross.”

Essence put the final touches on my hair and said, “Go check it out.”

I walked down the hallway into the blue-tiled bathroom, flipped the light on and glanced in the mirror. “You are the bomb!” I hollered at Essence. “Even if you are a bitter ho!”

Her deep-throated laugh danced all the way to the bathroom. “Now see if you can do something with the rest of you,” she yelled back.

I stared at the puffy eyes and red nose. I did look pitiful and splashing cold water over my face didn't change much.

“Two more days,” I promised the image in the mirror. Two more days and I planned to be over him. Why should I be worried about some man who didn't give a shit about me? As I continued to look at the pathetic image staring back at me, I knew unless I did something now, two more days wouldn't change much. “Forget the friggin' two days,” I grumbled. I'd been saying that for more than two months. There was no time like the present.

“Ladies,” I yelled, “Who wants to get their groove on?”

* * *

March rolled around bringing buckets of rain and not much else. The pain of Damon being gone had dulled to a tolerable ache. When I reached to rewind the tape I was editing and mastering for my “Elements in Journalism” class, a jolt of pain shot up my spine—the latest in a long series of aches. I hadn't been taking care of myself, neglecting the gym and pushing myself ten times as hard as I normally would, working until I was brain-dead—all part of the twelve-
step program to kick my Damon habit. I figured if I didn't have time to eat, sleep, or breathe, then I wouldn't have time to obsess over him.

The phone rang, the Caller I.D. registered from Missouri. Irritated, I looked at the clock—a little late for my mother to call.

“Kingston?” a strange voice mumbled after I answered the phone.

“Oh, I'm sorry! I thought it was my mom.”

“It's Aunt Malinda. Kingston, I have some bad news. Are you sitting down? Are you alone?” Aunt Malinda was my mother's best friend and she gulped loudly when I responded “yes” to both questions.

“Oh, geez, I don't know how to say this.”

“Just say it, Malinda,” her husband bellowed in the background.

“Lord, Jesus,” she said. “Okay, here goes. Your mother was in a very bad car accident.”

“Is she okay? Is she at home? No, you wouldn't be calling me if she was at home. She's still in the hospital? Barnes Hospital, I hope. That's the best one. What's the room number? I'll call now.” My words tumbled out faster than my thoughts. Convinced that if the words kept going, then everything would be the way it was supposed to be. My mother would be fine and life would be fine because God knows without her, my whole world would fall apart.

“Kingston, listen to me, honey. She isn't okay. You're going to have to come home.”

“Was she hurt bad? It must be bad or you wouldn't be telling me to come home. Man, I've got this documentary that has to be done by Friday so after that I will catch the first flight home.”
Keep talking, Kingston
, I told myself.
Just keep talking
.

“No, Kingston. You have to come home now. Your mother was killed upon impact. The police said she didn't suffer at all so that's a blessing.” The sobs that Aunt Malinda had been working so hard to stifle exploded as she began to chant the Twenty-third Psalms. “She didn't suffer, baby,” she repeated.

I was still trying to figure out how it is a blessing that my mother was dead. How was it a blessing that I was now alone in the world? A blessing that I never got to say goodbye?

“Okay,” I said numbly, trying to think back to the last words I said to my mother. Nothing came to me. I lay the phone down on the table, never bothering to hang up.

“Kingston! Hello! Kingston! Are you still there? Kingston!” Aunt Malinda called. “I think she hung up, Dennis. Kingston!”

I closed my eyes and for the first time since Damon left, shed a different kind of tear—a tear filled with the sorrow of loss that lessens with time, but never fully goes away. Curling into a ball, I cried for my mother and wished for Damon.

He'd know what to do.

Chapter 14

Dinner passed quickly and painlessly enough considering the circumstances. Damon was responsible for carrying the conversation as any good quarterback would—initiating topics of discussion and then, passing the ball to those open and willing to participate. Queenie served brandy with dessert; and with each sip, Bianca's shameless flirting got worse. Damon handled it well, spinning suggestive barbs into group discussion. If anyone noticed my silence, no one bothered to mention it.

Uncle Winston and his brood were the first to leave; Auntie Dawn loaded down with the majority of the meal's leftovers. Damon, Bianca, and I retired to the front room. Bianca was draped over the rocking chair, her snifter refilled, swaying back and forth with her legs thrown over the arm of the chair, showing ample amounts of buttock and thighs. Damon and I sat opposite her, also enjoying more than our share of my grandfather's aged E & J Grand Reserve, along with the view Bianca provided; Damon more than I. He didn't seem in a hurry to leave.

The clock ticked in the background, marking each passing minute.

The phone rang and I welcomed the distraction, answering on the third ring, beating Queenie by half a second. She headed back to the kitchen, drying her hands on a dishrag. Her boyfriend had arrived and was waiting outside, leaning against the mango tree, the sweet scented smoke from his marijuana-laced cigar filling the air. She was eager to finish cleaning up.

“Montague Residence.”

“May I speak to Kingston, please?” Just hearing Essence's voice improved my mood.

“It's me, Essence. You didn't recognize me with my Jamaican accent?” I laughed faintly but Essence wasn't fooled.

“How's it going?” she asked.

“It's going,” I said, my swell of excitement deflating like a balloon.

“Well, it's obviously not going well. I talked to Keela. She says that you haven't given up the punany yet, that all the men in town are still safe.”

I laughed. “What is with you guys? Just like I told her, this is not a sex fest. I'm here for my grandmother's funeral.”

“And? What's your point?”

“When I talk to you, Essence, pretty much, I have no point.”

“Exactly, you don't have a point because I know all and you know nothing when it comes to matters of the punany. I mean I know you're there for your grandmother's funeral, but who says you can't kill two birds with one stone?”

Still smiling, I sat down, picked up a pen and started doodling on a notepad. “There's no sense in arguing with you.”

“I'm glad you're finally figuring that out.” Essence paused and I heard muffled whispers: “ Who are you talking to?”

“Nobody,” she said quickly, then, “Keela also says Damon is there. Have you seen him yet?”

“He's here right now.”

Essence's voice rose an octave. “And you've waited this long to tell me?”

“You were too busy giving sexual advice.” Now I would torture her, dangling this information like a carrot in front of a horse.

“Don't play with me, Kingston. This phone call is too damn expensive to waste talking about trivial stuff.”

“But I was just listening to you,” I protested with a grin.

“Just tell me what's happening,” Essence said; and since I really wanted Essence's no sugarcoating take on things, I gave in.

After I had covered everything from being made executor of the will to my discoveries about Damon, her call-waiting feature beeped twice. “You gonna get that?” I asked.

“Hell no,” Essence replied. “This is better than a soap opera.”

My voice lowered as I began to give the real dirt. “Earlier today I went to his house-slash-health center to thank him.”

“How does he look?”

“The same, only ten times better.”

“Really?” Essence squealed. “So he's totally delicious!”

“Totally. Age has been good to him. His dreads are longer and he has a bit of gray at the temples. He looks very,” I searched for the word, “distinguished.”

“And the body?”

“From what I saw, that, too is even better than before, if that's possible.”

“Damn.” Essence mulled that one over. “Was he surprised to see you?”

“A little. He must have known I was going to be in town, but I don't think he expected me to come by. But he was happy. He was definitely appreciating me as much as I was appreciating him. You woulda been proud of your girl. I had it laid out.”

“It's good to know that all my work has not been in vain,” Essence yelled. “Y'all talk about anything important? Like why didn't he return any of your phone calls ten years ago? Why did he leave you just hangin'? There's more, but that's just off the top of my head.”

“We didn't get into any of that. And I really don't want to. It's history.”

“Tell it to somebody else. You've had questions pounding in your head for ten years now, so while he's there, might as well ask him.”

“We'll see,” I responded, trying to end her interrogation. No such luck!

“So back to my original line of questioning, think you're gonna hit that before you come home?”

“Essence!” And the conversation in the front room halted. I cupped my hand over my mouth. I continued to protest, not ready to admit to myself, much less anyone else, that Damon still stirred something tribal in me. I knew there was a lot of work to be done, but I did want to talk to him, see if anything could be salvaged, if only a friendship. Like it or not, I still missed him.

“I'm not like you, Essence. I can't just make love to a man, then walk away. I need to have some sort of feeling to even want to be intimate with someone. With Damon, there's so
much pain and hurt. Besides, I'm at the point in my life where I need more than just a good time.

I need romance.”

Essence sighed, “All right, honey. Be open to the possibilities and do what's best for you.

I just want you to be happy.”

“I know, and I love you for it.”

“Before I go, did Keela tell you what's going on with her?”

I had filled up a whole piece of paper with my doodling and was dismayed to discover it was all about Damon. I crumpled the paper into a ball. “No, she told me she had some news, but that she wanted to wait until I got back. What's up?”

Essence laughed. “No way am I going to spill the beans and have her upset at me.”

“Am I gonna be mad or glad?”

“A little of both. All I'm gonna say is that all that women's lib rhetoric that she's been spouting since college hasn't sunk into her psyche.”

“Well, then I don't want to know until I get home.” I placed my head in my hands. “I've got enough on my plate.”

There was more muffled noise in the background. “I'm gonna have to cut this gab session short, but I have one more thing to say. I know we have different perspectives on relationships and men and I respect that, but I do know this. Randy was nowhere near good enough for you. I don't believe in fairy tales but if you like it, I love it. And if you want it, then you deserve it and I want you to have it. But Randy is scum.”