Teenage Love Affair (20 page)

“Ma, please,” I managed to get out of my mouth while wiping my tears away. “I just want this all to go away. Just let me make it go away.”

“Zsa-Zsa, it doesn't happen like that.”

“But it can for me. I can't do this right now. Please.”

My mother stared at me and I begged her again. “Please.”

“I only want the best for you, Zsa. You didn't deserve what Ameen did to you.”

“Ma, I can't wallow in that. At least not right now. I'm begging you. Please, I don't want to talk about this anymore. I just want to go on. There's no more me and Ameen, I won't even let him speak to me. He can't come around. I won't take any of his calls. I will act as if he doesn't exist. But allow me to do that. That group”—I pointed toward the room—“is not for me. Those are not my stories.”

“Okay.” My mother nodded reluctantly in agreement. “If this is how you need to handle things, I'll respect that.”

“Thank you, now can we leave?”

“Yes, yes we can,” she said with no sincerity. We went back to the hospital room, where the doctor was waiting for us.

“How'd it go?” he asked.

Neither one of us answered, so the doctor continued on with signing my discharge forms. “Within a week you should be back to yourself.”

Thank God, finally a date when I will be better.

“Take care of yourself,” the doctor said as I walked into the hall with my mother behind me.

I
t had been a week since everything had jumped off with Ameen, and I felt like…like I'd lost myself. Everywhere I looked for myself there was no Zsa-Zsa. Instead there was this girl dealing with a buncha bullshit that belonged to other people—my father, my mother, Ameen, the girls at Say No More—but had been dumped on my doorstep. I was tired of being this person that I'd warped into. Although the bruises were mostly healed and by the next week I'd be back in school, I didn't feel like myself. Instead I felt like someone who'd gone to space, gotten lost, and happen to stumble across home again.

I was also upset that my mother didn't keep her promise and ended up giving the police Ameen's information.

“Zsa.” My mother called my name and knocked on my bedroom door at the same time. “I'm on my way to work.” She cracked the door open before I could say “come in.” “Cousin Shake and Ms. Minnie went to visit with some of Ms. Minnie's relatives in upstate New York. And Hadiah is having a sleepover with her friend, so you'll be here by yourself for a while.”

“You're working late?” I asked.

“Yeah, we need the money so I may pull a double.”

“Oh.” I frowned.
I'm sure I'll be great company for myself.

“Are you still upset?” my mother asked me, opening my door completely. “I had to tell the police something, Zsa. I know you may not understand it now, but when you become a mother I promise you will.”

“As long as you know I'm not getting involved with anything. I don't want to press charges and I'm tired of talking about it—”

“No, you'd rather run from it. But you know what? Like Kenneth said, I need to give you enough space to be yourself.”

“Kenneth? Why are you still seeing this man? You really don't get it, do you? We don't like him, we will never accept him. And don't talk about my business with him! What's next? You coming home to announce that he's your husband?”

“Look,” my mother said sternly, “I will not have you speaking to me like this. All of that energy you need to save for Ameen.”

“Oh, that's great advice.” I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. “How understanding of you.”

“Zsa”—my mother gave a heavy sigh—“I can't continue to do this with you. You are old enough to understand that I am a woman as well as your mother. I'm sorry about the way I brought Kenneth into your life. That's why I didn't invite him back over here. So for the introduction I will apologize for the way I did that. But for wanting someone in my life, for wanting Kenneth in my life, I will not apologize for that.”

“Whatever, Ma, I'm not beat for it. I'm cold on it anyway. Do you.”

“I don't know what any of that means.” She arched her eyebrows to let me know she wasn't asking for a translation. “But I think if you stopped being so resistant and started going to counseling with me—”

“You go to counseling now?” I couldn't believe it.

“Yes. After that meeting I realized that I needed to deal with some things. And hopefully it will help you too.”

“Please. Me and counseling. Not. I am not crazy.”

“I didn't say that.”

“Well, I don't want to discuss it, and please don't bring up that sad behind and pathetic group again.”

“Okay, that's enough,” she snapped. “This conversation is finished. I have to go. Love you and goodbye.” She walked away from my doorway and a few seconds later I heard the front door close behind her.

Heck with it. I walked over to the mirror, and as I looked at the fading bruises on my face the doorbell rang.

“Ma,” I said, walking toward the front door, “you forgot your keys?”

“I am nobody's mama!” That was Courtney, and he was screaming from behind the door like a fool. I opened the door and Courtney continued, “Just because I wanna be a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader when I grow up doesn't make me somebody's mother.”

“Courtney, please,” Asha said as she and Samaad walked behind Courtney. They carried three Pathmark bags and balloons.

“What's in the bags?” I said smiling, happy to see my friends. “And what's with the balloons?”

“Food,” Samaad said as if he were exhausted.

“And streamers.” Courtney smacked his lips. “And let's not forget the sparkling cider, girlfriend.” Courtney swung his hot pink boa to the back of his shoulder with one hand and swung the bottle with the other. “We need to celebrate.”

“What are we celebrating?” I asked, confused.

“You,” Asha said. “We love you.”

“We sure do.”

Courtney smacked his lips. “And we noticed that you hadn't been yourself since all of this stuff jumped off. So we decided to throw a party.” Courtney sang, “This way we can blame it on the trone that got you in a zone and not Ameen like to beat womeen—Oh, wait,” Courtney said, as if he had just realized what he was singing. “I was just trying to rhyme. My fault. Bad Courtney.” He slapped himself in the mouth. “Bad—bad—Courtney.”

“That's enough.” Asha gave Courtney the evil eye as she began to take the food from the bag.

“You don't have to be lookin' at nobody like that,” Courtney said, rolling his eyes. “Don't make me go Ameen slash Chris Brown on you, Asha. This boa might be pink but I am a man.” He placed his hands on his hips and sucked his teeth.

“It's cool, Courtney,” I said, hoping to end their inevitable argument before it started. “I would only allow
you
to get away with saying that.”

“Thank you, my sistah,” Courtney said, as the doorbell rang again.

“I'll get it.” I laughed. I walked over and opened the door. It was my baby standing there. “Malachi.” I hugged him tightly. “I missed you.”

“Of course you did.” He laughed and kissed me on the lips. “Because I missed you.”

“Oh,” Courtney said dramatically, “how lovely. Y'all got that…that…
Love Jones
kinda love. Feel me? I swear that a beautiful thing. Beautiful thing.” He snapped his fingers and moved his shoulders from side to side. “Get it, y'all.”

“Could you calm all that zest down?” Samaad asked Courtney. “Like for real.”

“Or what?” Courtney placed one hand on his hip and pointed the other like a gun. “What you gon' do, Maad? Huh? You can't even handle Asha, now you gon' get with me and my zestful quality?”

“We gon' ignore you,” Asha said. “Anyway”—she turned to me—“we're having a party. I cooked chicken, greens, mac and cheese, cornbread—”

“We get the picture, Oprah.” Courtney waved her off. “You like to eat. Well, Diva, I got the drinks and the music. Hey'yay!” He slid in a Patti LaBelle CD and started singing, “Somewhere over the rainbow…”

“Oh, no,” Malachi said, “I'm 'bout to roll.”

“Malachi, don't be like that,” I said, tight-lipped.

“Zsa”—he pointed at Courtney—“look at him.” I turned to look at Courtney, who was singing at the top of his lungs and slow dancing with himself. His arms were crossed over his chest and his hand rested on his shoulders. “Don't no grown man have any business watching that.”

Before I could say anything Asha hit Courtney in the back of his neck. “Stop it.”

“Oh, damn,” Courtney said, as if he'd been in a trance, “I almost forgot where I was at. Good thing I didn't take my shirt off.”

“So anyway, Zsa,” Asha said. “Come help me set this food up in the dining room.”

“Yeah.” I shook my head at Courtney. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“Y'all do that,” Courtney yelled behind us, “and I'ma switch to some Elton John.”

“I got the music man,” Samaad said. “I got a mixed CD, 'cause this is some nonsense you playing.”

“For real,” Malachi agreed.

“Don't y'all be ganging up on me!” Courtney shouted as we headed into the adjourning dining room.

“I'm glad y'all came over,” I said to Asha, handing her a pack of paper plates.

“I missed you,” she said. “
We
missed you.”

“Awwl, boo-boo. I missed you too.” I gave her a hug.

“Now look,” she whispered as we resumed to setting the table, “you know Samaad and Malachi caught Ameen.”

“What?” I blinked in disbelief and whispered back, “When I didn't hear anything I thought they didn't do that. I was hoping they didn't even get involved.”

“Well, they did.”

“How do you know?”

“Samaad told me. He asked me not to say anything so don't open your mouth.”

“I won't. And for real I don't even want to know the details.”

“Cool, then I'll end the conversation right there. Let's call the boys in here to eat.”

I walked into the living room. “The food is ready,” I said to them, and they followed me into the dining room. We sat at the table and started to eat, and I couldn't believe how good the food was. “Asha, this food is slamming!” I said.

“And you know this.” She laughed.

“My baby be putting it down,” Samaad said.

“Now I don't have an appetite.” Courtney sucked his teeth. “Samaad, why must we hear the details of your sex life? I mean, really.”

“You need to get your head out of the gutter,” I said. “He was talking about the food, fool.”

“You got one more time to call another fool,” Courtney snapped, “and it's gon' be a situation.”

“Anyway,” Asha said, “we should go play paintball next weekend.”

“Maybe,” I said. “That sounds like fun.”

“Straight.” Asha smiled.

Courtney sucked his teeth. “I'm not playing paintball. Mess my face all up. Not.”

“Ill, and what crawled up your butt?” I asked.

“Time out,” Malachi said. “Hold it.” He looked at me. “Don't be asking him no questions like that. I don't wanna hear his answer to that.”

“I'm just gon' ignore you, Ma-Mal.” Courtney sucked his teeth, rose from the table, and started dancing. “This disco throwback is my jam. Come on, girls, let's bust us a soul train line. Come on, Divas.” He started rocking his hips from side to side. “Stand on the side, so I can dance down the middle.”

I cracked up laughing. Even when we were little, Courtney knew how to be the life of the party. Me and Asha stood up, walked to the living room, stood across from one another, and started moving from side to side. A Gwen Guthrie throwback about padlocking your heart that had to be as old as Jesus was playing on this mixed CD. The beat was tight though and of course Courtney knew every word.

Courtney worked the middle of the floor with a vogue and then he ended it with some of the moves from Beyoncé's “Single Ladies.”

“Come on, Samaad and Malachi,” Asha and I insisted, and waved our hands at them to join us. “It'll be fun,” I said, giving Malachi the puppy face.

“I'm not doing that.” Malachi waved me off.

“Yes, you are.” I walked over to him while Asha walked over to Samaad, and we pulled them to the floor. “I promise you,” I said. “You two will still be men when you finish dancing. Now come on.” I grabbed Malachi's hand and proceeded to work the middle of the floor.

I moved my hips from side to side and bounced up and down on my knees while Malachi stood behind me nodding his head.

“Can't neither one of y'all get with this,” Asha said as she and Samaad started to do an old school dance called da whop.

“Samaad.” Malachi laughed. “Tell me you didn't, man. You didn't let her break your resistance down.”

Samaad laughed. “Happy wife, happy life.” He twirled Asha around and dipped her back.

“Oh, ai'ight,” Malachi said, “you can't touch me and my girl….”

We started working the floor like nobody's business, and eventually we were having too much fun to even explain. Courtney was on the floor doing a spin when the front door slammed and caused us to jump. I looked up and it was Cousin Shake and Ms. Minnie. “You scared the mess outta me,” I said, holding my chest.

Cousin Shake looked around the room at the decorations, balloons, and food. “You're having a party and nobody invited us?”

“It was a surprise, Cousin Shake,” Asha said.

“Oh, hey, Salad.” Cousin Shake nodded at Asha. “It's cool,” he said, “now where were you? 'Cause me and Minnie got a Pop-Lock-and-Drop-It that's gon' put all y'all to sleep.”

I cracked up as Cousin Shake started to dance, and before I knew anything the entire living room had turned into a dance floor. The music was bumpin', the dancing was going, and I felt like…like, I could do this. I could really somehow do this thing called life and get back to being Zsa-Zsa.

After a few hours passed, we started to wind down and I said to Asha, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being my friend.”

“You know how we do it.” Courtney snapped his fingers. “Now come on, Asha, I need to be dropped off right away.
Bridezilla
is about to come on, and if I miss it, it's gon' be on and crackin'.”

“And I don't wanna see you crackin' nothin', Cora,” Cousin Shake said to Courtney. “Come on, Minnie, I'm going to bed.”

“Bye, Zsa,” Asha said, kissing me on the cheek, as she, Samaad, and Courtney left.

Once they had all left, Malachi and I began cleaning up.

“I'm so happy you guys came over,” I said.

“You feel any better?” Malachi asked.

“Yeah, I don't think this night could've ended any better.”

He gave me a great big ol' Kool-Aid smile. “Not even a li'l bit better?”

“No.” I gave him the same Kool-Aid smile back. “Why?”

“Well”—he playfully hunched his shoulders—“I guess it doesn't matter why if you're saying the night couldn't have been any better. I wouldn't—you know—want to ruin the great time you had.” He reached in the pocket of his carpenter jeans. “So I'm just”—he pulled out a red ring box with a white bow on top—“take this back to the store.”