I had felt his tongue moving up and down my thighs, called his name in more octaves than Marian Carey. And let’s not talk about what that relationship had cost me. I ran my Unocal card up driving all the way out there, my Visa had been used and abused, and my phone bill was sky-high.
He’d left my body exhausted, mind fried like a piece of chicken at Golden Bird. I should’ve seen it coming.
But I never do.
Stillness made the music feel louder. The Ohio Players were singing a sad lament of hopefulness, chanting that one day they were gonna be free from love, lies, and a lifetime of suffering.
We listened. Sang along. Mostly Tammy, ‘cause she can sing her ass off. She took us there, made us live inside those words. By the time the melody ended, the air in the room was serious.
Tammy’s tone was that of a hushed secret, saying this was just between us, between friends. “Let’s be real.”
A chill ran from my skull to my toes. I said, “Okay.”
Karen nodded.
Tammy asked me, “I mean, let’s be
real.
What are you afraid of, Chanté? I mean, I’m worried about you. I hate seeing you hurt so often. It hurts my heart when you’re like that.”
So much love was in her voice. Always so much love.
I paused. Let the song change. Now the Ohio Players were lusting over a sweet, sticky thing. My breath eased out of me, made me feel like my soul was collapsing on the wing of a sigh.
Finally, my voice was that of a nervous whisper. “Growing old alone. I’m not needy, but I like having somebody who complements my existence. I think I’m above average.
My biggest fear is growing old, being alone, and being broke.”
Tammy nodded like she was on the same page with me.
Karen remarked, “Chanté is so codependent it’s pathetic.”
My hand went to my neck, rubbed a bit. Karen’s words were like an arctic wind, and its stupefying chill numbed me. That callous cow.
My voice was very weak, unsure. “I’m not codependent.”
Karen fronted me hard. “What’s the longest you’ve gone without being with a man?”
I straightened my back and leaned forward. My body was strong, but my voice was still too soft. “But love, whatever love really is, comes and goes faster than I can handle it sometimes. Faster than I can understand it. I love being in love, and I love making love when I’m in love.”
Karen clarified, “Having sex.”
“Okay, I love having sex. I’m not going to fake like I can sit around and not want to feel what I feel when a slow hand—a hand that’s not attached to my body—takes me there.”
Indignation floated in Karen’s eyes. I was pushing the right button.
Karen leaned forward on her elbows, crept into my space. “I didn’t ask you about love. I specifically asked you what was the longest you’ve been without a man.”
I stayed eye-to-eye with Karen’s intoxicated hostility.
Tammy did her best to increase the peace. “Change the subject. Let’s play a game of spades or dominoes or something.”
“My cards are on the table,” Karen said to me. “I mean, damn, you gave it up to Michael. Seems like Craig was just over here. Shit, my sister, sometimes I wonder how many dicks have been inside of you.”
That insult jarred the hell out of me. I warned, “Don’t go there, Karen.”
The heifer kept tormenting me. “Tell the truth, Chanté. How many men have been inside of your basement?”
Nobody can hurt you like a friend.
Karen’s face knotted up. “Unless we’re talking about the wrongful imprisonment of Mumiá Abu-Jamal, or something relevant like disabling Prop 209, I don’t need to hear anything else about men. Damn men. Our existence, our reality
is much more than that. At least it should be. Brothers aren’t our problem;
we are our problem.
Instead of having a pity party, bitching and blaming, moaning and mourning and licking open wounds, we need to have a forum on empowerment. We need to be discussing why we keep ending up in the same damn place, year
He’d left my body exhausted, mind fried like a piece of chicken at Golden Bird. I should’ve seen it coming.
But I never do.
Stillness made the music feel louder. The Ohio Players were singing a sad lament of hopefulness, chanting that one day they were gonna be free from love, lies, and a lifetime of suffering.
We listened. Sang along. Mostly Tammy, ‘cause she can sing her ass off. She took us there, made us live inside those words. By the time the melody ended, the air in the room was serious.
Tammy’s tone was that of a hushed secret, saying this was just between us, between friends. “Let’s be real.”
A chill ran from my skull to my toes. I said, “Okay.”
Karen nodded.
Tammy asked me, “I mean, let’s be
real.
What are you afraid of, Chanté? I mean, I’m worried about you. I hate seeing you hurt so often. It hurts my heart when you’re like that.”
So much love was in her voice. Always so much love.
I paused. Let the song change. Now the Ohio Players were lusting over a sweet, sticky thing. My breath eased out of me, made me feel like my soul was collapsing on the wing of a sigh.
Finally, my voice was that of a nervous whisper. “Growing old alone. I’m not needy, but I like having somebody who complements my existence. I think I’m above average.
My biggest fear is growing old, being alone, and being broke.”
Tammy nodded like she was on the same page with me.
Karen remarked, “Chanté is so codependent it’s pathetic.”
My hand went to my neck, rubbed a bit. Karen’s words were like an arctic wind, and its stupefying chill numbed me. That callous cow.
My voice was very weak, unsure. “I’m not codependent.”
Karen fronted me hard. “What’s the longest you’ve gone without being with a man?”
I straightened my back and leaned forward. My body was strong, but my voice was still too soft. “But love, whatever love really is, comes and goes faster than I can handle it sometimes. Faster than I can understand it. I love being in love, and I love making love when I’m in love.”
Karen clarified, “Having sex.”
“Okay, I love having sex. I’m not going to fake like I can sit around and not want to feel what I feel when a slow hand—a hand that’s not attached to my body—takes me there.”
Indignation floated in Karen’s eyes. I was pushing the right button.
Karen leaned forward on her elbows, crept into my space. “I didn’t ask you about love. I specifically asked you what was the longest you’ve been without a man.”
I stayed eye-to-eye with Karen’s intoxicated hostility.
Tammy did her best to increase the peace. “Change the subject. Let’s play a game of spades or dominoes or something.”
“My cards are on the table,” Karen said to me. “I mean, damn, you gave it up to Michael. Seems like Craig was just over here. Shit, my sister, sometimes I wonder how many dicks have been inside of you.”
That insult jarred the hell out of me. I warned, “Don’t go there, Karen.”
The heifer kept tormenting me. “Tell the truth, Chanté. How many men have been inside of your basement?”
Nobody can hurt you like a friend.
Karen’s face knotted up. “Unless we’re talking about the wrongful imprisonment of Mumiá Abu-Jamal, or something relevant like disabling Prop 209, I don’t need to hear anything else about men. Damn men. Our existence, our reality
is much more than that. At least it should be. Brothers aren’t our problem;
we are our problem.
Instead of having a pity party, bitching and blaming, moaning and mourning and licking open wounds, we need to have a forum on empowerment. We need to be discussing why we keep ending up in the same damn place, year
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