My Sister's Ex (6 page)

The screen door to the town house is locked, but I can see directly into the living room. My cheeks turn red and warm the instant I spot Alita cozily sitting on Big Hen’s lap. She’s pressing her lips against his neck and cradling his head in her hands. I want to close my eyes, turn away, and leave unnoticed, but I can’t help staring. Immediately I become even angrier at myself. That’s exactly what Jeff and I used to do. He was so affectionate. He loved to play with my hair, gently grab my face in between his hands, and kiss my lips, my cheeks, my forehead. At times he made me feel so loved.

“Hey, you two,” I yell, “can you stop your freaky porno show for a second and let a sista in the house?”

Alita hops off Big Hen’s lap and races to open the door for me. Henry is right behind her, grinning.

“Hey, girl, I don’t mean to interrupt.” I giggle. “What’s popping, Hen?”

“You got it,” he says and winks. “Come on in, make yourself at home. So you’ll be wearing my girl’s clothes tonight, huh? I hope I don’t get you two mixed up.”

“Ha,” I say and follow them inside the town house. “That shouldn’t be too hard. I don’t look like Hardly Berry. Plus, I will be sleeping downstairs. You two will have the entire upstairs to yourselves.”

“No, girl, it’s cool. I can spend some time with you, and
then I gotta rush up there and take care of my baby. But it’ll be good to make him wait. Let him anticipate what’s to come.”

“Eww wee, that’s a good thing. Make him wait, girlfriend,” I say and grin at Alita.

“He’s patient and understanding,” Alita says with a satisfied look on her face. “And he pays the rent, hello!”

Alita and I high-five. Big Hen playfully sneers at us and rolls his eyes. He goes and plops on the couch, picks up his black Guitar Hero peripheral, and hangs the strap around his neck.

“You know something?” I gush to Alita. “I won’t say this often, but I envy you and your guy.”

“Well, that’s cool, but successful relationships take hard work. You gotta learn to pick your fights,” she says and nods at Big Hen. “Like, he is sweet as pie, but I can’t count how many times he leaves his boxers and work clothes in piles all around the town house. I don’t say anything. I just pick up his clothes and toss them in the laundry room. I ain’t about to kick this good man out over some dirty underwear, you know what I’m saying?”

“You better not be that petty, Alita,” Big Hen says. “You know how we do.”

“I know, baby,” Alita says and giggles at her man, who’s now standing in the middle of the living room looking silly and belting out “You Really Got Me” while playing Guitar Hero.

Alita turns her attention back to me. “Yes, girl. When Hen and I stick to our agreement, we never go to bed mad. If we get upset we agree to talk about how we feel within thirty minutes. Then we have to get busy with the makeup sex, and everything’s good after that.”

“Do what works for you, girl.”

“Yep, gotta do that,” Alita responds. “I’ve had too many messed-up situations, and I learned how to set standards.”

“Okay, but how did you get him to pay the rent? I know at first he was paying just half.”

“Well, as of last month, he actually offered to pay it all. And I thought about it and was like, why the hell not? He’s over here all the time using up water to take showers, eating up food, using toilet paper, and burning up electricity so he can play his video games. And my key ain’t free, so if he wants to come and go he’s gotta be willing to pay the price.”

I can’t help but think about my own situation. If I had been in my right mind I could be getting what she’s getting. Cooling out with my guy, not experiencing any major drama, and still getting the best sex of my life. How stupid am I?

You really gotta be major stupid to let a good man slip away from you—a man who ends up in the arms of your sister.

Later that night, I can hear Alita’s moans and her bed creaking above me while I toss and turn on her living room couch. I fall asleep dreaming about how to get Jeff back into my life.

— 4 —
R
ACHEL

Be a Real Woman

The next afternoon, Alita
and I walk through my daddy’s kitchen and open the door that leads to the backyard. We step outside and go stand underneath the covered patio. First thing we see is Blinky’s lanky frame crouched over a dark blue oversized trash can. He’s a light-skinned black man with piercing green eyes and brown and gray hair that he always tries to dye, but the gray comes back twice as fast. Just as I expect, Blinky’s music is turned up so loud that I can hear the kitchen windows vibrating. I hear the words “Payback is a thing you gotta see … Revenge … I’m mad.” I recognize that head-bobbing James Brown song anywhere. My daddy loves old-school music. I do, too. But it’s tough to enjoy the rhythm when you’ve got the blues.

Sweet smells hit my nose as soon as I get to the backyard. All kinds of fresh fruit are arranged on a large utility table: oranges, lemons, pineapples, and pears. Blinky and Loretta are slicing up fruit and dumping it in the trash can. Oh, this party is about to get crunk for sure! Hypnotic music. Barbecue smelling delicious on the open pit. Trash can punch. And not a second too soon. I am going to need a nice stiff drink, considering what I am about to go through.

“Hey, Daughter Number Two!”

“Hi there, Daddy. How you doing? You look good,” I say and look pointedly at him. I can feel Loretta’s eyes burning a deep hole in me.

“Don’t be rude,” Blinky snaps. “Don’t you see Loretta standing here?”

Even Stevie Wonder would notice this Amazon woman. Loretta is taller than my dad by two inches. Her skin’s yellow tone perfectly matches her long, fiery red hair, which today is wrapped up in a colorful scarf. Loretta is one of the few black women I know born with that hair color.

I manage a stiff smile and say hi to Blinky’s woman. She waves, throws back a fake smile, and continues chopping up slices of mouth-watering watermelon.

“Hey, you want to make the Kool-Aid for the punch? Grab the packets and the sugar on that table over there. You, too,” Loretta rudely says to Alita. “Y’all not guests. You’re family, so get to work.”

I grit my teeth and decide to cooperate. The last person anyone wants to argue with is Loretta, Ms. Queen Bee.

Alita, cool as a bag of ice chips, smiles sweetly and starts measuring cups of sugar.

“What are you thinking about, young lady?” I quietly ask her.

“Girl, you don’t wanna know. Just be happy I’ve got your back, sis.”

“I am very happy. I don’t take a true friend for granted. God knows there’re enough backstabbers around.”

And just then Marlene walks in. Alone. I almost want to smile, but not at her. No. I want to grin about the fact that she is alone. Manless. At my daddy’s party. Just like me.

“Hey, everybody,” she says in a loud voice brimming with joy. Okay, her voice is sounding a little too perky. Maybe she
just got out of church and is still feeling fresh from the praise and worship, or maybe there’s another reason why she’s acting so buoyant.

Marlene is holding a large rectangular glass container covered with aluminum foil.

Oh, I can figure out why she’s grinning. Big girl is about to eat.

“What you got there, Marlene?” says butt-kissing Loretta. “Don’t tell me it’s your famous yummy potato salad.”

“Yes, Mama. You know I had to put my foot in it, throw together my magical cooking skills.”

“Hmm, when did she manage to make that? She wasn’t even at home last night,” I softly mutter. Marlene, Daddy, and Loretta give me a puzzled look, but I ignore them.

Reason why I know Marlene didn’t come home is because I had Alita call our apartment several times. I told her to do a star sixty-seven. No answer. My sister’s been gone two nights in a row. I could have slept in my own bed instead of enduring back pain trying to crash on Alita’s couch.

“Where were you, Daughter Number One? Shoot, I called you for over two hours, and you never answered my calls. That’s not like you, Pretty Girl.”

I flinch when Blinky calls her Pretty Girl. Not just flinch but my shoulders tighten up to the point that I feel a sharp ache streak through my body. That’s what happens when I get stressed. But I ignore my pain and tear open red Kool-Aid packets and empty them. Then I pour in gallon after gallon of bottled water that’s lined up next to the pitchers. I do all this like I’m really gung ho about making Kool-Aid. It’s like no matter how horrible or angry you feel inside, you have to learn how to control your emotions. You can’t let your enemy know something is bothering you, or else they may think they’re more powerful than you.

“Mmmm,” I say with a giant, fake smile. “I
love
your potato salad. Make sure and save me some.” This is my first time talking to the skank since Friday evening, when she got me to style her stupid hair.

Marlene sighs really loud like she’s irritated by my voice and announces, “Hey, everybody, there’s someone I want you to, um, meet, if you want to think of it that way.” She throws back her head and giggles, then disappears from the patio. She quickly steps back inside the house through the sliding glass door.

“Girl, close the door all the way so flies won’t get in the house,” I bark, even though I’m sure Marlene can’t hear me. Alita and I lock eyes and smile. Alita moves one hand and positions it to her right side like she’s one of Charlie’s Angels. I laugh. She is forcing me to remember the self-defense moves that we’ve learned.

My laughing ceases when Marlene walks back through the door. She’s leading Jeff by the hand. My ex is the color of gingerbread. His lips are thick, wide, and smooth, somewhat like J.J. Walker’s from
Good Times
. Lips that thick are perfect for sensuous, hour-long kissing. I notice that he appears calm, not nervous as hell like he should be looking.

“Is that Jeff? We ain’t seen you in a bit, dude. How are you doing?”

I can’t believe my daddy is acting nice and hospitable like this. Doesn’t he remember Jeff used to come to family functions with me?

“I’m doing as well as can be expected.”

What’s that supposed to mean?
I lock eyes with Alita. She looks as confused as I am.

“Actually,” Jeff speaks up as if reading my mind, “lately things have been going surprisingly well. Like I have a sudden burst of new energy.”

Marlene is standing next to Jeff with her head held high. She’s grinning, for God’s sake. Like she’s proud she’s out doing me. She always tried to outdo me when we were younger.

I remember when we’d go to family reunions. Although there would be dozens of cousins running around screaming and having fun, doing relay races, and playing team-oriented games like kickball, I would always be the one she wanted to beat. It would strike me as strange that I was the perceived enemy instead of all my rowdy, bragging, loud-talking older cousins who were from out of town and across the way.

Jeff finally gives me direct eye contact. “Rachel, what’s up? Hey, Alita.”

“Yo, Jeff, come give me a hug.” That’s Alita. She may talk about him behind his back, but she is one to act civilized when the situation warrants it.

“Alita?” I whisper.

“Shhh, I know what I’m doing,” she whispers back and steps up to Jeff and offers him a hug.

Jeff wraps his arms around Alita but curiously eyes me while he embraces my friend. The way he stares at makes me feel warm and gooey. I miss feeling his arms slide tight around my waist, gripping me close and pulling me near so I can rest against his warm body. I yearn for that wonderful feeling of security. There’s nobody to blame but myself.

Marlene coughs loudly then physically pries Alita and Jeff apart.

“That’s enough,” she tells them, irritated.

“Watch that, sista,” Alita says, and walks away.

“No, you watch it
… sista.”

“She’s gotta be kidding,” Alita says and resumes helping me make the punch.

“Well, I just wanted y’all to see a familiar face, and I will
let you get back to doing what you do. I’m going back inside the house,” Marlene explains.

Right then, with the music thumping and pulsating, I hear James Brown scream, “I don’t know karate, but I know ka-razy.”

“‘Yes, we do,’” Blinky sings along and starts busting a move, swaying his skinny hips and wailing his long arms. “‘Yeah, hey, woo.’” He looks and sounds like an old fool.

“Blinky really can get down, huh? He should audition for
So You Think You Can Dance,”
I say sarcastically. “Get it. You
think
you can dance?”

“I heard what you said. You so smart, you get up here and dance,” Blinky says, and playfully grabs my arm. “Do the Soulja Boy, c’mon.”

“Blinky, will you stop it? I don’t feel like dancing.”

“Daughter Number Two, you better stop pouting, forget about your ex, and dance like the boy doesn’t exist. Show this man you can have fun with or without him. That your life goes on.”

Alita looks at Blinky and openly frowns. She knows my daddy’s past with women, that he hasn’t always been on his best behavior and hasn’t always treated them with respect. Blinky should not even go there. He seems faker than a Chanel knock-off purse.

Blinky continues to reach out for me, grabbing my hands and trying to get me to bust a move.

“Life don’t depend on Jeff,” he chants.

“Blinky!” I scream and look around the backyard feeling embarrassed. “Don’t be saying stuff like that.”

“What? You think we don’t know what you’re thinking? You don’t have to tell us you feel bad. We can see how sad you are, Daughter Number Two.”

“Oh, God, I’m about to do something else. I can’t stand
listening to this,” I groan. “Some people are missing a sensitivity chip.”

The James Brown song is on repeat. Same old words. Same old screaming.

Blinky continues popping his bony fingers and rocking his hips back and forth. All he needs is a wig, and I swear he’d bring the Godfather of Soul back from the grave.

“‘I’m mad. I want revenge. The big payback,’” Blinky keeps singing and dancing. Looking at him makes me even more upset. Even though it is his birthday I want him to act more sympathetic to me.