Live and Learn (7 page)

One Month Later

T
he day I killed my unborn child, a huge part of me died. I regretted my decision even as I lay on that table. For days afterward nightmares filled with graphic images of what I had done chased me from my sleep.

Thirty days later and it still hurt like a sharp blade through my heart to even
think
about it.

What’s thirty days anyway?

I knew I should pray for forgiveness, but I had no faith. My ties to the church and God were as visible as a strand of hair. Living under my parents’ roof, I pretended to listen, pretended to care, but I felt too numb inside.

I knew all the commandments. I studied the Bible and sang the hymns, but I didn’t
believe
anymore. Somewhere along the line I learned to lie and deceive about my faith and blind trust in the Word, the church, and its ministers.

Religion was such a huge part of my life. What choice did I have? None at all. Maybe that was the whole point: I never had a choice.

I
had
to go to church.

I
had
to be Pentecostal.

I
had
to be on the usher board.

I
had
to go to every church event in a twenty-mile radius.

I
had
to smother my own creativity and wear “appropriate clothes.”

I knew my resentment was bred from my lack of freedom. A religion that centered around the lies and manipulations of a no-good, scheming scoundrel like Reverend Luke DeMark.

How could I believe in the Word when my spiritual and moral leader obviously didn’t believe or follow the verses that
he
spoke?

He preached from his mighty thronelike pulpit about premarital sex being a punishable sin, yet
he fucked me
and we sure wasn’t married.

He shouted to the rafters about abortion being murder in God’s eyes, yet he convinced me to kill our unborn child.

I didn’t have pain anymore when I thought of his cold indifference when I told him of our “blessing.” That night, his words cut me like a knife….

“I’m pregnant,” I blurted out in a soft and hesitant voice as I lay in his bed still naked and sweaty from his sex.

He said nothing, but his body went as stiff as a board beside me. Seconds later my eyes widened as he jumped from the bed and jerked on his discarded slacks. “You’re…you’re what?” he asked, his tone sharp as he looked down at me with angry eyes
.

I clutched the damp sheet to my naked body as I sat up in bed. “I’m pregnant,” I repeated, even as my heart nearly raced out of my chest in slow-rising panic
.

“Aren’t you on the pill?”

My lips shaped the word “no,” but I didn’t have a chance to let it free from my mouth
.

“If this is some kind of trick to get me to marry you, you can forget about it,” he said in a nasty tone as he paced back and forth before the bed.

I said nothing more. I couldn’t have even if I wanted to. Being told by the man you loved that you were good enough to fuck in secrecy but not good enough to marry—or to be happy that you were pregnant with his child—had a way of making a person shut the fuck up.

I rose from the bed to search out my clothes, hating the tears that burned first the back of my throat and then my eyes.

“Where are you going?” he asked sharply, reaching out to tightly grasp my upper arm like a vise grip.

To be honest, as I looked up into his eyes, I saw anger and fear. I became afraid. I didn’t know what he would do to keep his secrets from being told.

I nervously licked my lips. “I’m going home,” I said in a voice I hoped was calm.

He must have seen the fear of him in my eyes because he suddenly released me and backed away, wiping the fine sheen of sweat from his upper lip. He was a coward. To hell with him.

I knew then I was in it alone, and alone was not a good place to be.

Quickly I got dressed.

“What are you going to do?” he asked, now sitting on the edge of his bed looking older than his mid-thirties.

I was at the bedroom door and turned to look at him. “I’m getting rid of it—and you.”

Still, I hoped he would stop me and tell me we would get through this together.

He didn’t. “That’s the best thing,” he said, not meeting my eyes.

I walked out of the house and haven’t been back to it or him since.

To dare accuse me of trying to trap him into a marriage by “getting myself in trouble.”

Is he crazy?

I’m a senior in college with a part-time work study job paying just $5.65 per hour. I live with my religious parents who will disown me if they ever discover this secret. I long since sinned against God. My lover rejected me.

I lay down with a dog and came up with fleas.

I was so glad to have my friendships with Alizé, Cristal, and Dom. How would I have gotten through
it
without them? They all went with me to the clinic, held my hand, and told me everything would be okay. Never once did they ask who the father was or why he didn’t help me pay for…for…
it
.

I felt weak.

Even with my girls’ support, I felt so alone.

S
hit with our little crew was gettin’ mad hectic.

Moët’s straight trippin’ ’bout the abortion. Hell, I had two and I ain’t never felt as bad as she does. And she still ain’t tell us her who her baby daddy is…was…whatever. Cristal thought it was an undercover freak nasty professor. Alizé said she can’t even guess who it could be since Moët never talked about a man. I said whoever the m’fer was, he’s a broke-ass joke since
we
had to pay for the abortion.

Now on to Alizé. Just found out she’s steady givin’ up the rhythm to some cat on the low behind Rah’s back. Riskin’ all that good money Rah be givin’ her for some dick. Stupid.

And Cris. I thought I saw her ass grinnin’ and chinnin’ with some white dude last night. I ain’t had time to ask her, but I know she ain’t lookin’ for no cream to go up in her coffee.

But I ain’t even got time to worry ’bout nobody else’s shit right now. I got mad problems of my own. Peep ’dis. Lex bust out last night—
after
I done sexed the hell out of him—and told me to stop dancin’.

Say what? Say who?

Seems some of his boys saw one of my shows and was braggin’ ’bout all my skills up on the Ave. Now he’s straight lost his mind talkin’ ’bout it’s him or strippin’.

When we met six months ago I was dancin’, so why all the drama now?

Some people are doctors, nurses, teachers, or preachers. Me? I’m a stripper.

I’ve been dancin’ ever since Dawn, my crazy-ass cousin from Florida, put me d’ to the mad loot she make dancin’ down in Tampa. So I took a G-string, a smile, and a copy of my birth certificate to Club XXXcite—the hottest strip club in the Tri-state area. I auditioned, makin’ sure I shook the hell out of what Diane gave me. I got the job on the spot. That was two years ago.

Shee-it, I still remember my first night onstage in nothing but that same G-string and a smile. Dem fellas foot-stompin’, hollerin’, and applause vibrated against my body. I got loose and made that money. Five minutes later I strutted my ass offstage with four hundred dollars in tips and a bunch of knuckleheads trying to holla at me after the show. The owner had been on me like I was his next big money-maker. All of the glory went to my damn head, and I been shakin’ it like a saltshaker ever since.

I waited about two months before I clued Diane and the girls in on my new career. Cristal stopped speakin’ to me for about two weeks—like I really gave a fuck. Alizé told me as long as I didn’t shake my business all up in one of her boyfriends’ faces, then she was straight with it. Moët, who I thought was an undercover freak, was just actin’ nosy askin’ me a bunch of questions. And Diane, well she had a fit ’til I dropped two bills in her lap.

I never sold my ass.

I never gave blowjobs in one of the private rooms.

I never put on a lick fest with another bitch.

I never even gave hand jobs.

I NEVER CHEATED ON THAT M’FER.

Why he trippin’?

Needin’ to talk to some damn body, I rolled out of bed and walked barefoot into the living room. Diane and Kimani were watching
Hustle & Flow
.

“My Mama’s ’wake,” my child yelled out, runnin’ over to me at full speed.

I caught her and swung her up on my hip. “Lex wants me to stop dancin’,” I told Diane, ploppin’ down onto the couch next to her.

“And who the hell died and made him your daddy?” Diane reached for the remote to put the TV on mute.

My daddy was another damn story. Sometimes I thought about his cracked-out ass…most times I didn’t.

“I thought I schooled your ass, but you up in here tellin’ me ’bout what some
man
want you to do?”

“Oooo, Mommy, Diane mad,” Kimani sang, her hands playing in my jet-black, shoulder-length weave.

“Damn right, I’m mad,” Diane yelled. “You got a child to take care of and bills to pay. To hell with what Lex want. If his behind can’t get with the program, then drop his ass. What you call yourself, in love or sum’n’?”

I ain’t even get a chance to answer.

“See what love got you the last time,” she told me, lookin’ over at Kimani.

The doorbell rang and I was glad that somethin’ shut her the hell up. Why I opened my big mouth thinkin’ I could talk to her?

I got up off the couch with Kimani’s heavy self still wrapped on my hip.

“Who?” I asked, looking into the peephole.

“Lex.”

“Don’t be a dumb ass your whole life,” Diane mumbled from behind me.

I ignored her and opened the door. Lex was standin’ there lookin’ too fine with his high yella self smelling good as hell and dressed to kill as always in vintage jeans and a striped button-up with a baseball cap and black leather coat. My pussy lips went to smackin’. I just loved me a red man. “Hey, baby. Whaddup?”

“Nothin’.” He walked in and took Kimani from me to put on his own hip.

“Whaddup, Lex? What you got for your mother-in-law, son?” Diane asked with a big Kool–Aid grin.

Damn, she phony as hell.

Lex stopped ticklin’ Kimani to reach into the pocket of his Roca Wear jeans. He pulled out a wad ’bout big as a fist. “You know I can’t front on you, Ms. D.” He took off the rubber band and peeled off five fifty-dollar bills.

My mother stood up to come take Kimani and the money from Lex, givin’ me a hard stare behind his back.

“Gimme some,” I told him, holdin’ out my hand.

Lex put the money away and left me hangin’ as he sat on the sofa. “You made your mind up or what?”

Damn, he gettin’ straight to the point.

I think of the pimped-out silver Escalade I knew was parked downstairs, the trips we took to places my ass ain’t even had the sense to dream of, the shopping sprees, the way he took care of Kimani like she was his seed, the goodness of his sex, and the
fab-u-lous
way he ate me out.

But…

What if he left me?

What if he get locked up for pushin’ major weight?

Where would that leave me?

For sho not up in Mickey D’s.

Knowin’ Diane’s nosy behind was listenin’, I stood. “Let’s go downstairs.”

We left the apartment, and the heavy metal door closed behind us. Somewhere on the floor somebody’s bad-ass kids was runnin’ up and down the hall. We stepped on the elevator, and I covered my nose with my hand. The smell of piss was strong enough to make your damn eyes water. Ain’t no way I was openin’ my mouth ’til we got the hell off this oversized toilet, and Lex knew that.

“So what’s the deal, Dom?” he asked as soon as we stepped into the lobby.

“Why you trippin’?” I asked, stalling.

He looked at me like I was crazy. “I don’t want my girl to be the talk of the damn block,” he shouted, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“I was dancin’ when you met me.”

“You know what, Dom? I ain’t even feelin’ all that noise you talkin’. Choose.”

We stared each other down, and I didn’t say a word.

Silence ain’t never been so loud.

“You know what? Fuck it. Shit. Do you, a’ight?” Lex waved his hand and turned to walk away from me. Or was it
us?

“So what you sayin’?” I asked with attitude, fakin’ like I’m tough. On the inside I’m cryin’.

Lex turned at my question.

People were starting to come inside the lobby and watch us argue.

“You wanna be some nasty ass—”

Oh, no…the hell…he didn’t
. “Nasty?” I snapped, anger fillin’ me in waves.

“Keep strippin’ and I’m through wid your ass, Dom,” he said, givin’ me one last long look before he walked out the building.

Even though I’m pissed ’cause he put our business all on front street before these nosy-ass people, it hurt me like hell to see him walk away. “What the hell y’all lookin’ at?” I yelled at the top of my lungs at the onlookers.

Somebody from the back of the crowd yelled back: “You.”

I stormed out the door behind Lex into the bitter winter air, but he was already gone. The only thing I heard was the squeal of his tires as he sped away.

Damn.

I
n two weeks Moët and me would graduate from Seton Hall. I had my gigs for the upcoming months all lined up. Summer internship. Grad school in the fall. Everything was on track when it came to getting my professional thing together. It was my personal life that was jacked up.

Rah and me were still together, but this new cat in my life, Lionel, was sexing me strong. Thing was, Lionel was starting to catch feelings and wanted more of my time. I could tell he was on the verge of saying those three words I damn sure didn’t want to hear.

And they said women can’t separate love and sex?

I met Lionel in my dance class. He had just moved to N.Y. from D.C. to grab his moment on the Great White Way. He started class on a Tuesday, and after the next class on Thursday, I was in his bed giving him the best that
I
got.

He was fine as Morris Chestnut
and
Boris Kodjoe rolled together—pretty-boy fine. That brotha could throw down like nobody’s business. He had this trick he did with a string tied tight around the base of his dick, and he would count down from ten, and just as he reached one, he would come. Have mercy! As a dancer he was flexible, and he could twist and turn his body while he twisted and turned me out.

Yeah, I’m sprung on his sex—I’ll admit that—but there was no way I was letting a good piece come between my good provider and me.

Lionel was broke as a joke but ain’t a damn thing funny. He worked as a waiter at a small, nondescript restaurant that Cristal wouldn’t even spit at. He lived in a studio apartment in Brooklyn that was furnished with a second-hand sofa bed and a tiny dinette set. He ate bologna sandwiches and Oodles of Noodles to save money. And if he wore those Adidas sweatpants to class one more time, I was going to fucking scream.

Last week I started to buy him a new outfit, but that was a no-no. I wasn’t spending my money on a grown-ass man who can’t even afford to take me out to a hot dog dinner.

Now I just had to decide how to split my time: more great sex or even greater money.

I was so busy juggling finals and my three lovers—Rah, Lionel, and dancing—that I hadn’t seen the crew in a minute. I worried about Moët mostly because she wasn’t the same since the abortion. The innocence we all loved about her was gone. She was cold, indifferent, and distant. It was like she didn’t care about anything. At least she did stop hanging around Cristal’s apartment during the day, skipping classes and took her ass to school.

Avant sounded from my Longchamp canvas bag. I looked over at Lionel to make sure he was sleeping before I climbed out of the lumpy sofa bed. Naked, I reached in and grabbed my cell phone, checking the caller ID. I smiled.

“Hey, Daddy.”

“What’s the deal, Ladybug?”

I loved that my father—my daddy—still called me by the nickname he gave me as a child. “Nothing much. What’s up with you, old man?” I teased, lowering my voice as Lionel turned over in his sleep.

“Dinner. You and me.”

I smiled. My daddy left the house and the marriage, but he never left me, thank God. When I was younger, I spent the weekends with him at his small apartment, and he never missed a holiday where he came by to either take me out or bring me presents. Anytime I needed him, he was there. He called me all the time, and he never stopped letting me know that he loved me. But love for your daughter and love for your woman were two different things.

I graduated from high school, and my parents graduated from marriage to divorce. I wasn’t surprised when it all went down. I had nearly fifteen years of seeing them fade into indifference. Arguments behind closed bedroom doors became total silence.

“How ’bout Friday?” I asked.

“Uh, no-no. I got a date.”

My mother’s not going to like that. Even though she claimed not to care, I knew she
still
loved Daddy. See, that lingering “love” had her life on lock while Daddy was living it up “La Vida Loca.”

I’m not blaming my father for trying to meet someone special. Even though they’ve been divorced for four years, he just starting dating again. He didn’t leave my mama to rip the streets and run through women. He left her so they both could be happy in their lives.

“Okay, Thursday after my dance class, Casanova,” I teased him with a soft smile.

“Why you whispering, Ladybug?”

“I’m in the library on campus,” I lied, crossing my fingers.

“Oh, okay. Thursday’s good. I’ll cook a lasagna. And don’t bring Rah; he makes my ass itch,” he said with deadpan seriousness.

I just laughed. My father ain’t buying the “Rah was a businessman” deal. Although I denied it, he swore Rah was nothing but a lowlife. “Just me, Daddy. I’ll see you Thursday. Love you.”

“Love you more.”

I flipped the phone closed, and Avant sounded off again almost instantly. It was Rah. I flipped it back open. “Hey, you.”

“Where you at?”

“Just about to walk into dance class. Why?”

“Catch a cab over to the new store after your class.”

Rah and one his “struggling to get out the game” friends were opening a new clothing store on Lennox Avenue here in New York.

“Why?” I asked, thinking that my plans for some more sexual healing from Lionel were ’bout to get jacked.

“Just do it, Ze.”

I frowned at the phone as irritation caused my eye to jump.

Rah was getting bossier lately. Do this. Do that. Come here. Go there. Hell, last week he made me change outfits before we went to a concert at the PAC because he thought it was cut too low in the front. It was my favorite silk camisole, but instead of arguing I just changed.

“Okay, I should be there before nine.”

“A’ight.”

I flipped the phone closed.

“Who was that?”

I turned to find Lionel standing behind me. His nude body was like a sculpture, and his strong penis hung like a true third leg.

“That was my daddy,” I lied, hitting the power button to turn the phone off before I dropped it back into my purse.

Lionel looked suspicious. “Why’d you have to lie to your father?”

I walked back to the bed and climbed onto it. “And what should I say? I’m lying naked in bed with a man?”

He climbed on next to me, and I curled my body close to his, leaning forward to suck his bottom lip.

The thin sheet tented as he got hard, and I knew I had to have just one more taste of him before we left for class. He wanted me to spend the night, but that was a no-no.

Lionel moved to lie on his stomach between my legs, and I had no shame as I spread them wide. With a delicious sigh, I pressed his cool, wet mouth closer to my core and shivered at the first feel of his tongue against my clit.

As he brought me to one and then another achingly slow climax, I knew that at least for now, this one was a keeper.