Black Short Stories : Bittersweet Water Chapters 1 ,2, 3 and 4

Bittersweet Water Chapter Three

BittersweetWaterFrontcovi.gif

Please visit .Bittersweet Water.com


Chapter Three


T onight, we share our fears. She tells me about her innate fear of spiders. I promise to kill every spider she encounters from now on. I share my fear of rodents especially rats. She recalls a “Judo” rat encountered when she was a nine-years old in one of the many apartments her family moved to on the Westside of Chicago.

The “Judo” rat was sticking its nose out of the toilet. After persistent pushing, the huge rodent edged out of the toilet but its one fat hind leg did not escape the toilet. Little Faye doused the vermin with ammonia and it began a piercing scream. The huge rodent started swinging wildly at her with its fore legs. She found enough courage to slam the toilet seat on its head. After a couple of hours, it died. His fur turned white from the ammonia and bleach. I didn’t want to know how they got rid of it.

I share my fear of seeing “The Elephant Man” and how traumatized I was from watching the movie at age eleven. And even now at this age, I go through a slight depression at the sight of Joseph Merrick’s face. She actually understands even though she never saw the man. She promises when I’m ready to, she’ll watch the movie with me. This fear probably comes more from the way he was treated as less than human rather than his appearance. Along with the fact that I’m also shocked by his appearance and wonder if I would have mistreated him.

We move on into pet peeves…

“My number one pet peeve is when my man tips out on me with another woman," she plainly states. "I’m possessive meaning my man belongs to me and me only. If you can’t stay true blue, then I don’t need to be with you. It’s been done to me a couple of times and I don’t like it. I never will put up with it.”

I turn the script on her and ask, “What about you? Have you ever cheated on someone?”

She quickly answers, “No. I only deal with one man at a time. If he’s not doing right by me, I’ll let him go first before I go to the next man. Hanging on to a man while sleeping with another one just messes up things and I’ve never been that way. I mean, when Von was doing his thing and I hadn’t seen him in weeks, I knew he had been sneakin on me. But I wouldn’t put myself down to his level. And there was this sweet guy named Raphael, I used to dance with all the time. We were good friends cause we both danced and bopped at the clubs.

She laughs to herself and continues, “One night when I was really mad at Von, I let Raphael take me home and we sat around, listening to quiet music. Kissed a little bit but as sweet as he was I had to show him the door cause I still had unfinished business with Von. He understood and left. He let me know he was ready to step in but he waited.”

I take her words in. I want to believe her about Raphael. I’m sure they played around a little but I believe she didn’t go all the way that night. In a way, I’m proud she has scruples. Feeling a little sense that I can trust her with my secrets.

She continues and states, “My next pet peeve is lying. I can’t stand a liar.”

I don’t know what the punishment is for this and would hate to find out. The next week after she tells me her hatred for lying she catches me in one.

“Nate, don’t play with me. Be honest. ‘Cause this has been bothering me all day. I called you yesterday and this lady answered the phone. I didn’t know who she was so I told her I was Sharon Lamar and you had made arrangements to buy a stereo. She was like “Oh did he now? Well, Nathaniel’s not buying anything.” Who is this woman, Nate?” Faye asks.

****. I knew this would happen. That’s it. It’s over. She knows I lied now. Time to fess up. “That was my mother, Faye,” I confess.

“Your mother. So you do live at home with your mother?” she asks.

“Yeah. I didn’t think you’d go for that idea so I told a fib. I’m sorry.”

“Well, that’s not as bad as I was thinking." She sighs in relief and continues. "I’m almost about to go through a stoplight thinking- is he married? Is this his girlfriend?”

In my remorse, I tell her, “I sorry I should have told you that from jumpstreet.”


“It's Okay. We all stretch the truth sometimes. No big deal. Just don’t make a habit out of it,” she says in a calm but firm manner.

She drops it and we go on with our almost nightly six-hour phone conversations. I don’t know how she makes it to work. I have grown more love for the night. The anticipation of hearing her voice wouldn't let me sleep.

The need to feel her touch and her body on mine is swelling in me now. Before the moon and I met her, I wandered aimlessly through the night. The animal in me had no mate to hunt with. Only prey to stalk. Now my eyes stay focused with a purpose. And there is no real sleep without her.

Knowing how formidable dads are to their little girl’s expectations of men, I ask her about her Dad. Faye smiles through the phone, “He was a sweet man. He always was.” She clears her throat and imitates Arsenio Hall, “ Would you please give it up for Mr. Rufus Thomas.”

“My Dad always took us out for ice cream. Sneaked me candy. Never let anyone cuss around us. One thing for sure, he always followed through with whatever he said. Very consistent. If he said he was going to buy you the moon, you better make the space ‘cause you’d have a moon in your room,” she says.

She continues and says, “If he told us not to do something and we’d do it anyway, we’d get punished no matter what. I remember when him and Momma worked opposite shifts and he’d be home with us in the evening. The day before Halloween, he told us if we didn’t have our room clean, homework and the dishes done by five ‘o clock tomorrow, we weren’t going trick or treatin.”

She laughs and says, “The next day, clothes all over the bed, dishes in the sink and we’re scrambling trying to turn off the record player and pretend we’re busy doing homework. Leslie trying to throw all the clothes in the closet. Nobody bothered trying to do dishes. We figured we could con him into letting us go. Do you know we ended up, looking out the window all sad, watching the other kids get all the candy? No mercy, even on Halloween.”

“It was good for you,” I reply.

“Yes, but on Halloween, Nathaniel?” she asks as if I was Rufus. Faye continues, “That’s one of the happiest times of a kid’s life. I’ll never forget that one. See, Daddy didn’t play. He didn’t hit us, so he made Momma do the dirty work but he got his point across.”

I smile and say, “Oh, momma tore yaw butts up.”

She laughs and says, “Yeah, but me and Daddy got real close when I was about nine and had to have surgery on my back.”

I curl up to the receiver and say, “And you became a Daddy’s girl.”

Thinking back, she says, “Yeah, one day after a bath, he looked at my back and saw a curve in my spine. And up until then, you had one choice for curvature of the spine- grow up a hunchback. And me and two other children got picked for a new experimental surgery.”

Intrigued by her surgery, I say, “Oh, I think I heard about this. John Cougar Mellancamp had this done when he was a kid.”

“Yep and if you ever seen “Looking for Mr. Goodbar”, the girl Diane Keaton played had it done too. And the risk was either a straightened spinal column or roll around in a wheelchair for the rest of your life.”

“God…But you’re alright now, right?” I ask.

Faye responds, “Oh, yeah. I jump around, run, ski, dance etc. I just have like a dip in my lower back and a small scar on my leg where they took the cartilage. So, my Dad stayed with me everyday at the hospital for six-months. Reading me stories, comics, sneaking in barbecue chicken legs. We got to be real close buddies.”

Thinking of a poor little mummy girl, I ask, “Mmm, and they had you in a body cast and traction and everything?”

“Yep, I couldn’t move for one year. They had a special bed made for me in the apartment and I had to be turned every hour. Change my bedpan. Feed me. I had to depend on everyone. ” Faye says.

I respond, “Geez, for all that time, that had to make you into a strong little character.”

“I think so. I had to put up with a lot of frustration and sadness watching all the other kids walking around, going places. I found peace in there somewhere. I think alot of it, I’ve blocked out. So, from age nine to ten, I have no memories.”

“Ummm...So where is your Dad now?” I ask.

In a low tone, she responds, “In heaven”

“Ooo. Sorry to hear that,” I apologize.

“I’m just glad Lance got to meet his Grandpa before he died. He died of lung cancer in eighty-three. They liked each other a lot. .'Mom, when we gonna see grandpa?' It took my breath away when I walked in the middle of his funeral.
A friend drove me down East St Louis where he lived and when we walked in there I nearly fainted because you just never expect to see someone so close to you, your own flesh and blood, lying in dead in a casket. I couldn’t get momma to go with us,” she says.

Feeling hurt for her dad by now, I quickly ask, “ Why not?”

“Oh, they had long been divorced. He was the last man she really loved. Daddy had a real bad gambling problem. He’d always lose that paycheck-shooting craps and crapping out. Momma having to beg and plead with the landlord to let us stay. I think that’s why we had to move so much. We’d come home from church and there he’d be. On the floor, stinking from drinking and gambling all night. The drinking wasn’t as bad cause he’d go on binges every now and then, but after driving cement trucks all week and not having a dime to show for it. Momma had enough. One day, she got us all packed and we just left. I kept beggin and cryin, ‘We can’t just leave him like that Momma.’ But her mind was made up.”

“She was through,” I reply

“Yeah...He’d try to come by. Write her letters. Leave some money. But she’d just go in her room and close her door with out a word or look his way. I know her heart was breaking. I heard her crying. She wouldn’t cry around us,” she says.

I salute her mom and say, “Strong Momma. Yeah that’s the way you have to be sometimes for your children.”

Through her account of her dad, I knew she wants a man who will stick by her through storms. From what she told me of her mother, I knew where her independent streak came from. And where she would never depend on a man for her living. Made me wonder, who came close and how did the mess up come in?

I ask Faye, “When was your last serious relationship?”

“Oh, I was engaged once. His name was John. He was working as a security guard at my old school, Rosewood. He was tall, dark skinned. Eight years younger than me. We got to talking and he kept asking me out. Finally, I went out with him and got to know him better.”

She slows her voice and says, “He’d come around and start helping me with my garden, cutting the grass, diggin up weeds, planting flowers with me. Momma just fell in love with him. She still talks about him to this day. Them two got really close. So did Lance. As he started coming around more, we got closer. Eventually we got engaged and all hell broke loose.”

She clears her throat and says, “We’d spend hours arguing about the wedding and how he thought his wife should be. Three months before the big date, he finally tells me about how we’re going to have four kids. And we’re selling this house and moving into this apartment building his uncle helped him buy. This is the first I’ve heard about an apartment building. I just start feeling like I was with someone who was gonna control every aspect of my life without even letting me know.”

I sigh, “He wouldn’t let you breathe.”

With some anger in her tone, she says, “Yeah…He wanted dinner on the table everyday. House spotless. I asked him, ‘John, what about my teaching career?’ and he’d say, ‘Oh, you don’t need to work. You’ll have to quit.’ Every time I’d think about that date, I’d get sick to my stomach. Then one time, we got into a fight. I got so mad at him I threw a lamp at his head.”

I flinch at the vision of this. “Whoa, see I knew you, Pisces can bust hell loose.”

“I told you. Don’t start none. Won’t be none.”

“I know ‘cause you’d bash my head in otherwise.”

In her playful voice, “I’m gonna get you. As soon as I see you, I’m gonna give you a spanking.”

In my naughty but sincere voice, “Oh, Faye, you mean it?”

“Yep, right on the derriere my dear.”

“That’s what I love about teachers. You do something wrong they make you do it over and over again.”

“That’s right. Practice makes perfect.”

“Let me stop.”

“Why? What are you afraid of?”

As if she’s pulling my bed sheets away to reveal me. I feel slightly embarrassed and aroused. I bashfully reply, “Nothing. Go on and finish telling me about this John guy.”

“Well, after I threw that lamp at him, he had to grab me and hold me still for awhile before I start swinging on him. Then as soon as he let me go, I ran out the house and got in the car,” she says.

Faye impersonates a male voice, “Faye, Faye, please baby, just listen to me.” With more attitude and anger in her voice, she says, “I told him I can’t even stand to look at you anymore. What in the hell make you think I want to listen to you?” And I drove off. I get two blocks down and he comes right behind me in his jeep. Beeping the horn like a mad man. I hit the gas and before I knew it, we were in a car chase all up and down Division Street. Cuttin through alleys. Knockin over garbage cans. Going through stoplights. Just like the movies.”

“Did you lose him?” I ask.

“Finally. But that’s when I knew he was crazy. He was getting more and more insecure. After a few days, I brought myself to talk to him and gave him back his ring. We both cried that day.”

With my slight disappointment, I ask, “And that was it?”

“Well, we went out on dates and stuff but it was never the same.” she replies.

I pause and think of what might be her idea of marriage now. “And how long ago was this?” I ask.

“Oh, this was back in eighty-five, eighty-six I think. Yeah, because the Bears won the Super Bowl that year,” Faye answers.

Geez, I was a junior in High school that year. I like to hear about a woman’s past relationships. How much has she gone through with men? How much damage has been done? How can I avoid making the same mistakes? Any smart man will want to know this. It sounds like a man has to know where he is with her. He must be aware of his power, his strength and his weaknesses. He must be aware of himself and be able to stand on his own. Is that me?

“And after that there were no others?” I ask.

Faye replies, “Well, after that. I stayed home a lot. Became a homebody. Depressed all the time. My friends brought this guy over. He was nice guy. Kinda sexy. He helped me get over it a little. But he had a drinking problem. It got to be too much.”

“But you never talk to John anymore?” I ask.

“Oh, he calls every now and then. Christmas time. Birthdays. But we’re in different lives now. What about you? Anyone special ever entered your heart?” Faye asks.

I think back to high school, of course, and offer her a slightly modified answer. “Yeah, she was a good friend. Her name was Shayla. When I first met her, I thought she was one of the dumbest people on the planet. She was like a black Marilyn Monroe. I mean she actually seemed like Marilyn reincarnated Black. She said some of the dumbest things,” I say.

Doing my best impersonation of Shayla’s little girl voice, “Did I do good?”

I continue and describe Shayla to her, “Beautiful. Half Black. Half French-Light skinned.”

With a slight bit of sarcasm in her voice, she asks, “Ummm, just like you like, huh?”

“No... I like all the colors. But she came off dumb and that was a turn-off,” I state.

“Nothing going on in there for you relate to,” Faye replies.

“Nope.” I pause and think back to Shayla and continue, “Until I got to know her. The real her. I found out it was just an act. She was very intelligent. And at the time, I wasn’t on my best game. She took me aside and gave me the best motivational speech of my life. She said, ‘You know. You’re really smart. But you don’t do ****. Nate, there’s nothing you can’t do. You just don’t see yourself that way. I know you’re smart. You can’t fool me. Now if you don’t get it together by tomorrow, I'm gonna kick your ***.’ And she meant it with all sincerity. I couldn’t say anything.”

Faye asks, “Did she get you?”

I reply, “She didn’t have to. But I realized she was a real friend to me. Then she wanted more and up until then my relationships were short. I didn’t want to lose her by getting involved. But she kept on pressing. She was real shy about it too and I would turn her down kinda harsh. I'd ask, 'Did you have something to tell me?' She’d hesitate and go 'Ummm..well..' Then see the impatience in my face and go, 'No, I guess not. Not really.' Then I'd say something smart-*** like, 'That's just like you, Shayla. Call me over here to tell me nothing."

Faye responds, “Ooo, Nate. That’s was cold.”

I respond, “I know but I knew where she was going and I wanted us to stay friends. She waited a whole year. Then we got together. And then some of my friends were getting married. Then everyone started asking me when was I gonna get married. And I was like what are you talking about?”

I lie down on the couch as if I’m going through therapy and continue with my story, “We were getting more and more serious. I felt the walls caving in. One night, I was out with my play sister, Karen, at a club and I don’t know. I just felt like showing my independence or something. I started flirting with every woman in the club.”

“Then Karen was like ‘Someone's staring at you.’ I turn around and it’s Shayla. And as loud as the music was pumpin, she only whispered from across the room in shock and I heard her loud and clear. ‘Nathaniel…’

“I grabbed Karen and tried to play it off like I didn’t see her. Karen tried to duck her big head through the crowd. Next day, I came over her house and tried to explain.”

“She was like, ‘Well, I talking to someone else now.’ So, I was like, ‘Well bring him over. He can start you up and I’ll come in at the end and finish the job.’ ”

Faye scold fully remarks, “You were hurt, trying to hurt her back.”

“Yep. F’d it up big time. I went through so much heartache over that, I didn’t see anyone for three years. My mom was so disappointed cause she was thinking about all the pretty grandbabies she was going to have with good hair.”

Faye clarifies my last statement, “You mean straight and stringy. Good hair is healthy hair. I can’t stand when people refer to straight hair as good hair. ”

“I know. You’re right,” I concede.

“Do you use chemicals on your hair?” she asks.

"Yeah,” I answer.

“Oh, boy, you don’t have it looking like some Super fly pimp daddy hairdo?” she asks.

“I keep it neat. Slicked back into a ponytail. A lot more conservative than it used to be.”

“Chemicals. That’s why my hair is damaged now,” she says.

I reply, “It's better than pressing. I remember Milton Johnson used to come to school with his hair straight from pressing. After recess, he'd get sweaty from running around. Then when we had to get in line. With temperatures outside always being on the low side and his sweat drippings, Milton's head started smokin. That's how he got the name Smokin Johnson. By the time we got back into class, he'd have an afro like the rest of us."

In an almost tearful laugh, she says, "Yeah, I remember momma being mad at us after a party. Coming home hair nappy from the sweat. Finally when Angela Davis started getting notice, I let my hair grow natural. Big and Red just like her."

Feeling close to where I could see myself falling for this late-night voice. I think up all the things that might spoil this romance. I finally ask her, “Have you ever done drugs before?”

Faye laughs and says, “I used to be a pot-head back in college. Partying like a fool at Southern Illinois. Just about every weekend. I had to get it together by senior year though.”

With a bit of sadness in my voice, I interrupt her, “Yeah, I lost a lot of friends to that junk. At first, I used to try to talk them out of it. ‘Nah, man I’m not addict, I can stop anytime I want.’ Well, stop. ‘Not right now, it’s under control.’ So, I decided anytime one of my friends got on that stuff, I would just have to find a new friend. Old friends for sale. Buy one, get one free. I’m not a drug counselor and you know the first thing they want to do is get you to try it so I’d rather not deal with it.”

She responds, “Yeah, I didn’t get into the hard stuff. A lot of my friends went that way too. Some of them became schoolteachers too and need to get on a drug program.”

Every night, we seem to fall into the same squabble about who should hang up the phone first. We compromise on counting to three and hanging up. Someone always ends up cheating and we’d spend another thirty minutes discussing sweet ways to say goodbye. We settle for making kissy sounds and saying night-night.

Bittersweet Water.com
 

Donate

Support destee.com, the oldest, most respectful, online black community in the world - PayPal or CashApp

Latest profile posts

HODEE wrote on Etophil's profile.
Welcome to Destee
@Etophil
Destee wrote on SleezyBigSlim's profile.
Hi @SleezyBigSlim ... Welcome Welcome Welcome ... :flowers: ... please make yourself at home ... :swings:
Back
Top