Fool and Her Honey (9781622860791) (12 page)

After clocking out, I headed to my car to get my purse out of the trunk so I could pick up a few items to make dinner with. I hated that there were no lockers in the store for employees to keep their personal items. If it didn't fit in the pockets of the smocks cashiers wore, it was at risk of being taken or riffled through. I'd learned the hard way that I couldn't leave my purse around Equanto, especially if there was money in it. That would be like throwing money straight out the window on a windy day.

My heart dropped down in my shoes when I looked across the lot and saw that the trunk of my car was open. Fully. My breathing increased as I began to panic, already knowing what I would find—that my purse was gone. My tears were instant as I searched the contents of the trunk, wanting my purse to magically appear. I hadn't buried it under anything, although there was a basket of laundry that had not yet made it to the Laundromat, a box of clothes and shoes that the boys had outgrown, which I'd been meaning to drop off at Goodwill, a spare tire, and other random items. Everything in the trunk looked to be untouched and in its normal disarray, except my purse was gone. Quickly I shuffled stuff around, but to no avail.

It was bad enough that there was about two hundred dollars in my purse, but it also contained my driver's license, my and the kids' Social Security cards, our birth certificates, their shot records, and every other document that was important to me and proved my existence here on earth. They were now gone from my possession.

“Lord Jesus!” I screamed into the air, smearing tears into my face, walking in a small circle, shooting my eyes back into the trunk every few seconds to make sure I hadn't just overlooked my purse. Finally accepting the reality that I'd been jacked, I pulled my cell from my pocket and called the police, and while I waited for them to arrive, I called Equanto. Thankfully, I'd broken the rules by having my cell phone on my person during work hours, which was grounds for being written up.

“Somebody stole my purse,” I sobbed into the phone.

“Whatchu mean?”

“I came out the store, and somebody had picked the lock on the trunk and took my purse.”

“See? When stuff like that happens to me, you be thinking I'm making it up. Now you see what I'm talking about.” There was no compassion or sympathy in his voice, which angered me.

“I don't want to hear that right now, E,” I yelled into the phone. “They took my whole purse. Not just my money, but all my IDs and stuff.”

“Where was you at? You probably went somewhere you ain't had no business.”

“I've been at work all day,” I shrieked. “I'll call you back. The police are here.”

I talked to the officers for about thirty minutes, completing a report and watching them circle the car and scan the lot like they were looking for clues, but they ultimately told me it wasn't likely that anything would be recovered. Not bothering to call E back, I drove home in a cloud of depression, knowing that I was going to have to make some deals with the bill collectors and cross my fingers in hopes that the rental office lady would show me some mercy once I showed her the police report. There was no way I'd be able to pay my rent on time now. Then I still had to replace all our documents and whatnot. I prayed that by the time I got home, Equanto would have somewhere to go. I wasn't up for dealing with his mess tonight.

As soon as I pulled into the parking lot, he came rushing out of the house, ready to jump in the car and go somewhere. I wanted him to leave, but not with the car. He walked up to the driver's side and opened the door.

“Get out. I need to go somewhere,” he said, thrusting his hand forward for the keys.

“You can't use the car,” I replied without hesitation, turning off the ignition.

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Because the police have to come and do the fingerprints on the back,” I said, making it up off the top of my head. They had told me in the store parking lot that it didn't look like they could get a clean print from the car, because the lock had been picked with a tool, so it hadn't been handled enough, but Equanto didn't know that. His face froze like I had just tazed him, and at that point, I knew he was guilty.

“They was s'posed to do that when they first came,” he said, far less aggressively than he'd ordered me to get out of the car.

“They didn't have the stuff with them, and I told them that I needed to get home to the kids, or else they were gonna be locked out the house, so they are supposed to meet me here in a few minutes.”

His eyes darted nervously to the entrance of the apartment complex. “A'ight. I'll just catch the bus, then.”

I'd never seen Equanto back down and leave the house so fast, scared his ass was about to get locked up.

I sat in the car for another twenty minutes, completely immobilized, but I knew I couldn't sit there forever, since the boys were in the house by themselves. The rest of the night was stressful, to say the least. I tried not to let my boys know when I was incredibly upset, but this time I couldn't help it. When I came in the door, they rushed me, with their voices rattling off a series of complaints, from “Ma, we hungry” to “Can you check my homework?” to “Daddy said to tell you to wash our clothes, 'cause he didn't have time to do it.”

“Stop!” I said before they got too far into their roll. “Stop for a minute and listen to me.” As if I had hit a button on a remote control, the boys stopped their blubbering and looked at me attentively. “I need some time to myself tonight. Okay?”

“Yes, ma'am,” they answered in unison. They addressed me as “ma'am” only when they were in trouble or when they knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I was dead serious.

“Y'all know I love you, but right now I don't want to answer no questions, I don't want to check homework, and I don't want to wash clothes, play video games, listen to you read, watch you do a dance, or hear y'all fighting.” I paused and concentrated my focus on each one of them, one at a time. “I have a really bad headache, and all I want right now is some peace and quiet, okay?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Now, Linwood, you're the oldest. What I need you to do is fix you and your brothers a ham and cheese sandwich, some chips, and a banana and pour y'all some juice. Make sure you use the paper plates, because I'm not washing dishes tonight. When y'all finish, put the plates in the trash and the cups in the sink. Then y'all can watch Nickelodeon until bedtime.”

“Yes, ma'am,” they again responded collectively.

“I'm going in my room, and I do not want to be bothered unless a stranger breaks the door down, the house is on fire, or one of you is bleeding. Understand?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“And I'm leaving the door open to make sure y'all keep quiet,” I added, walking down the hall and to my bedroom. If I closed the door, they would start off being quiet but would eventually reach a noise level that sounded like a full-blown house party. I still ran that risk, but if I kept my bedroom door open, they'd be less likely to escalate.

What I wanted to do was go in the closet and start ripping Equanto's stuff from the hangers, then have a
Waiting to Exhale,
burn-his-stuff-up moment. But I didn't need to waste any energy on anything that wasn't going to result in some level of resolution. It sure as hell would have made me feel better, though. Instead, I sat on the bed and prayed for a few minutes that God would help me get all my stuff back as quickly as possible, that He would move on the heart of the rent lady, and that He would calm my spirit down enough so that I wouldn't kill my husband the next time I saw him.

 

 

Equanto wasn't back by the time I left for work the next day, probably because I still needed time to cool down. The boys could tell that there was still tension in the air from the previous night, and acted accordingly, getting themselves ready for school. After seeing them off, I stopped by the rental office to do my begging, but there were too many people there for me to get a private moment. I'd have to come back later. As I drove myself to work, I prayed that God would give me the grace to make it through my day. I pushed my keys and cell in my smock pocket and dragged myself inside the store.

“How are you doing this morning?” Some dude was sitting in the break room, dragging his finger around on an iPad, when I walked in to clock in for the day.

“Fine,” I answered without thought and not bothering to look up. I pushed my time card into the machine until I heard it stamp, stuck it back in the rack on the wall, then poured myself a cup of coffee to go with the doughnut sticks I had shoved in my smock pocket.

“How long is your shift today?”

Why was this man talking to me? “I get off at two,” I snapped unintentionally, too mentally distracted to pay him much mind.

“That's not too bad,” he commented.

I didn't respond, but stood silently, stirring sugar and powdered creamer into my paper cup.

“Are you all right? You seem like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

This time I did look up at him as I pushed a sigh through my nostrils. I saw sincerity in his eyes as he looked at me through a pair of black framed glasses. I had seen him around the store, mostly in the produce section, but had never been in close enough proximity to actually attempt a conversation.

“I'm sorry. I got a lot on my mind this morning that's kinda got me in a bad mood, but that has nothing to do with you, and you don't deserve that.”

“It's all right. Life happens to us all, but we always live through it, right?”

“I guess we do,” I answered with a little chuckle.

“And one thing I've learned, no matter how bad things are, they could always be worse.”

That's because he didn't have to deal with a jackass of a spouse every day like I did. Well . . . I couldn't say that, because I didn't rightfully know if he did or not. Maybe he did, but I wouldn't bet any money on it, since his ring finger was bare.

“You're right.” I nodded with a half grin. “Let me start over. Good morning. I'm Celeste. I have to give you an elbow bump because I've been sneezing in my hand and don't want to get you sick.” I leaned my right elbow toward him, instead of sticking my hand out for the standard handshake.

Appreciating my consideration, he laughed and reciprocated the gesture. “Nice to meet you, Celeste. I'm Keith.”

“Likewise.”

Not meaning to, I released as much air as a fully inflated balloon that had been pricked with a straight pin when I took a seat, letting out a “Whew!” I caught myself by surprise, and a wave of embarrassment washed over me.

Keith acted like he didn't notice, but he had to, because I knew I just about blew him out of his chair. Almost immediately, he stood, slid his device into a sleeve, tucked it under his arm, and said, “Well, I hope your day gets better.”

“Thanks.” I blushed. Suddenly I was ashamed of the cakey treat I'd pulled out of my pocket and sat on the table just before I sat down. How hard would it have been for me to have grabbed a banana or an orange or something? Replaying the events from the day before made me dismiss that thought and fall into my familiar pattern of being comforted by my taste buds. “I'll start tomorrow,” I promised myself . . . like I'd done a hundred times before.

 

I used to look forward to going to work just to get away from Equanto, but Keith's morning company soon became my motivation for leaving my house every morning. He always engaged in pleasant conversation and even had a compliment or two for me. Sometimes I got to work a whole hour before my shift just to talk to him. On those days, I'd eat my sweets before he got there, then enjoy a piece of fruit once he arrived. Caring what he thought of me, I didn't want him to see me eating unhealthy snacks. I'd started putting on a little makeup again, which I hadn't done since I left my old job, and sometimes I caught myself trying to suck my stomach in. I had to laugh at myself, because there wasn't enough sucking in in the world to make a difference with all the belly I had beneath my smock. I did it anyway, though, feeling like I was on a little date every morning.

It was during these little dates that I told Keith about my three boys and my husband and a few other details from my crazy, mixed-up life. He told me he had a teenage daughter, whom he rarely saw because she lived out of state.

“I can't imagine life without my kids,” I said.

“It's tough,” he said with a nod. “Real tough.” With a few passes of his finger on the screen of his tablet, he showed me a picture of a cheery-looking girl with braces. “This is my heart right here.”

“She's gorgeous,” I commented, taking the tablet in my hand and swiping through some other photos. “What's her name?”

“Jordan. She's the love of my life.”

“That's nice.” I couldn't help but smile. I loved to hear men talk about how much they loved their kids. “Maybe I'll get to meet her one day.”

“Yep. Definitely.”

I liked the sound of that. It sounded like he hoped we'd be friends for a while. I wasn't about to forsake my marriage vows, but it felt nice having some positive male attention in my life. There was nothing wrong with have a good male friend around, just to make me feel like a woman, since my husband wasn't going to do it.

“So you want me to cosign on you stepping out on your husband?” was Candis's response when I asked her if I could invite Keith to her birthday party as she drove me home from work, since Equanto claimed he needed the car to go to a job interview. I figured her party would be a great place to for us to interact outside of work. It would be a mixed crowd, we could arrive separately, and onlookers wouldn't necessarily put us together. It was the best I could do without feeling like I was out on a date with a man other than my husband.

“I'm not stepping out on E, Candis. Keith is just a friend. That's it.”

“What kind of friend? One with benefits?” she challenged with raised brows.

“Girl, no! You know I'm married.”

“Yes, I do know. So why are you trying to be all in this man's face?”

“Would you rather me bring Equanto with me?” She knew he was a straight-up hell-raiser.

Immediately her expression changed, and she couldn't help but laugh. “You got a good point! What's his number? I'll invite him myself.”

While Dina, Candis, and I decorated the community clubhouse in Candis' neighborhood, I was all giddy inside about seeing Keith. He was all I could think about while the three of us embellished the clubhouse with pink and black diva-themed decorations. From the stereo Anthony Hamilton's voice filled the room, giving us something to work to, and when he crooned the lyrics to “The Point of It All,” I imagined someone, specifically Keith, serenading me and meaning those words. Not just saying them out of obligation.

I started daydreaming, envisioning myself in his arms, leaning back against his chest, standing on the shore of a beach somewhere, just enjoying the waves washing over our feet, with his arms wrapped around my shoulders. We had on jeans that were rolled up at the ankle and crisp white shirts that dropped over our waistlines instead of being tucked into our pants. Then we held hands as we strolled, laughing and talking and stopping every few steps to pick up a shell.

Unknowingly, a smile crept across my face as I imagined what it would be like to be in love and have someone love me back.

“What are you grinning about?” Dina asked as she passed by me, suddenly making me aware of my silly thoughts and expression.

“Just thinking about something one of the boys told me about school the other day,” I lied.

“It must have been mighty funny for you to be cheesing like that.” She grabbed a folded tablecloth for the gift table and disappeared into the next room, freeing me from making up some story to explain my unintentional smile.

 

 

I watched the door like a hawk, waiting for Keith to arrive, and when he did, I tried to look happily occupied with chatting with other guests, but I saw him scan the room in search of me. It took only a few minutes for him to casually make his way over to where I was.

“Hey, Celeste,” he greeted with a smile.

“Keith!” I beamed, as if his presence surprised me. “Glad you were able to make it. It's good to see you.”

“It's good to be seen, but even better to see you.” He bent down and kissed my cheek and embraced me with a quick hug. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks.” From the way I blushed, anybody would have thought he'd laid me down and given it to me real good. I cleared my throat and had a knee-jerk action. “Let me go get you something to eat.”

Turning my back to him and heading for the food table, I felt my cheeks rise in a grin. I was super happy to see Keith. I piled food onto a plate, then stopped at the drink station, where Dina stood ladling punch into cups.

“He's here!” I semi-whispered.

“Where?”

“Over there, near the DJ table. He has on all black.” I dared not turn around but watched Dina's eyes casually search the room to catch a glimpse of him.

“Girl, he's cute! You better hope your husband don't come busting in here.”

“We're just friends. Nothing more than that.” That was the truth, even though I would have loved for it to have been more.

“Yeah. That's what Candis used to say about SeanMichael, and now he's her boyfriend and she's never even seen him.”

“That's a mess,” I stated. “He should have at least come to her birthday party, but I'm glad he didn't, because I did text Russell and tell him to come.”

“You did what?” Dina gasped.

“What? It's the only thing I could think of to get her mind off of Mr. East Coast. You know she don't need to be dating him.”

“She's gonna kill you if she finds out you invited him.”

“Well, she's not going to find out, and even if she did, she can't prove it.”

“How do you know he is not going to show up with his new woman and make matters worse?”

“Because I told him not to. Duh!” I said, grabbing a drink from her hand. “Oh, snap! There he is too!”