I Left My Back Door Open (24 page)

“Nancy did give me an ice pack to use during my break. But otherwise I had to put in my eight hours, just like nothing happened.”

“Your boss treated you like a slave,” Sharon muttered.

“I had to ride the El home that night. I didn't have money for a taxi. And I had to ride the train the next morning. But I never rode the third car of the 6:38
A
.
M
. train again, and it's been almost thirty years. Mama comforted me when I got home, but nothing could erase the trauma entirely. We concluded that it was just one of those random acts of violence. I will probably go to my grave not knowing why that man attacked me.”

“It makes me hecka sad,” Tyeesha said.

“Yeah,” Sharon and I agreed.

“I didn't mean to bring y'all down,” Ivy said softly. “I never talk about that story, but Sharon, after you opened up to me about yourself, I got to studyin' on a lot of things. I remembered my experience on the El and to my surprise I could relate it to your situation.”

“My situation?” Sharon looked puzzled.

“Yeah, your taking up with women.”

“I'm only dating one woman, Aunt Ivy.”

“Dee Dee, you know what I mean. You're from the South.”

“She just means that you're a lesbian,” I told Sharon.

“I was trying to find a pretty way of saying it. You didn't have to be so blunt,” Ivy protested. “Anyway,” she continued, “I haven't finished having my say about this lesbian business, if that's what y'all wanna call it.”

The room got real quiet. We were hanging on every word. Suddenly, the outside chatter of the others sounded like it was coming from a distant yard. The air had changed also. I could feel the increased humidity, even in the cool basement. My head began to sweat and I noticed the odor of barbecue lingering on my greasy fingers.

“I know how alone I felt on the El train that morning when that man hit me and nobody showed any feeling for me,” Ivy continued, staring at the three of us. “I knew all of y'all would have empathy for me if I told you my story.” She swallowed. “Doubt didn't even cross my mind. And I asked myself, would I have empathy for someone that happened to if it hadda been a man? And the answer was, yes. I asked myself, would I have empathy if that had happened to a white person? And the answer was, yes. I asked myself, would I have had empathy if that had happened to a gay person? And the answer was, also, yes. What I'm trying to say is, baby, I don't ever want you to feel isolated with your pain.” Ivy swallowed. “And whatever adjustments I have to make to accept you, I'm going to go ahead and make 'em,” she added, choking back tears.

Sharon hugged Ivy, and there wasn't a dry eye among us.

“Auntie, you remind me of Forrest Gump in the movie,” Tyeesha said.

“What do you mean?” Ivy asked.

“You know, the part when Forrest Gump says, ‘I may not be a smart man, but I know what love is.'”

seventeen

Sharon was all up in arms several days later because while doing the laundry, she'd found cigarettes in Tyeesha's pocket. I couldn't blame Sharon for hitting the ceiling. Even though she and I had both tried cigarettes in high school and had been occasional smokers in college, neither of us had ever gotten hooked. We were both eternally grateful for that.

Sharon asked me to give her some backup around this smoking, and I did. I got as serious as lung cancer when I got up in T's face.

“Dee Dee, I only smoked a few cigarettes,” Tyeesha protested as I backed her into a corner in her cluttered bedroom. “You and Mom act like I have a two-pack-a-day habit.”

“We're nipping this mess in the bud before you
do
have a two-pack-a-day habit,” I shouted, popping my fingers in Tyeesha's face. “Cigarette smoking is not an option for you. There's nothing to discuss. We don't need to have a dialogue. Do you understand?” I towered over T like a drill sergeant.

“You make it sound so bad,” Tyeesha whined.

“It
is
bad,” I said emphatically. “Smoking can kill you.”

“Everybody who smokes doesn't get cancer.”

“I don't like the odds. And I told you, I'm not going to argue with you about this, Tyeesha. I'm drawing my line in the sand. And if you cross it,” I threatened, “you're no longer my godchild. That's the real deal, okay?” I said, narrowing my eyes. I knew I was selling woof tickets, but I just hoped that T would buy them. I didn't know what else to do.

Tyeesha's mouth flew open and she gave me a pained look.

I hoped that my pronouncement had rendered her speechless. She'd never known a time when she didn't have me in her life.

“Dee Dee, I thought you would be my godmother until the world blew up,” Tyeesha said in a shaky voice, her lips quivering.

I was touched by her show of emotion. But I knew that I still had to stand firm. “I really hate putting my godmothership on the line,” I said, solemnly, “but baby girl, I'd rather do that than for you to die a slow, painful death from lung cancer. Now you can make your choice. I've said my piece.”

“Dee Dee, I'm not into cigarettes,” Tyeesha protested. “I just tried them, that's all, but I know it was whack. I never thought you all would jump in my Kool-Aid like this about smoking.”

“Well, now you know. We consider cigarettes a big
no no
.”

Tyeesha rolled her eyes. “I'm playing soccer at school now. I'd look stupid having a cigarette jones and calling myself an athlete, now wouldn't I?”

“Yeah,” I said, “hecka stupid.”

I was startled by the doorbell a couple of nights later. “Langston, who could that be coming to see us this late? It's after eleven o'clock.” The orange and white mass of fur straightened itself out as if suddenly on duty. I knew that nobody was collecting for some charity this late at night.

“Who is it?” I shouted into the intercom, trying to sound tough.

“Dee Dee, it's me.”

The male voice sounded familiar and he knew my name. But I wasn't certain of its origin. “It's me, who?” I asked.

“Phil.”

“Phil! What are you doing over here? Is everything all right with Sarita and Jason?”

“They're okay, sort of. Buzz me up so I can tell you what happened.”

“What do you mean, sort of?” I raised my voice.

“Just let me in. Don't make me talk about my business out here in the street.”

Phil better not be coming over here trying to get over. Things could get ugly. I wasn't sure if letting him in was the right thing to do. But then again, it wasn't like he was some kind of monster. I mean, we went way back. I pressed the buzzer. Something must've happened, I told myself. Phil wouldn't be over here after eleven at night for nothing. But what could've happened? Was Sarita or Jason in the hospital? Had Jason had an asthma attack? I opened the door to a sullen-faced Phil.

“I'm glad you're still up,” Phil said, glancing at me in my yellow terry-cloth bathrobe and my hair standing all over my head.

“Yeah,” I answered, feeling a little self-conscious. “I just took my braids out. I'm getting my hair redone tomorrow. So, anyway, tell me what happened?”

“Sarita and I had it out,” Phil reported, with almost a hint of relief in his voice.

“What do you mean, had it out?”

He sighed as he folded his tall frame into my leather recliner. Langston had already scooted upstairs. He was one of those cats that didn't take to men.

Nervously, I asked, “It didn't come to blows, did it?”

“Not quite.”

“Not quite? What do you mean, not quite?”

“It came close, but no punches were actually thrown.”

“Where was Jason?”

“Up in his room, probably pretending to be asleep. But nobody could've slept through all that glass breaking.”

“Glass breaking! What got broken?”

“Just a set of cheap dishes.”

Sarita always kept a set of cheap dishes, just in case she went off. They must've finally come in handy.

Suddenly, the phone rang loudly, startling me. I still had the ringer up as high as it would go because I was hoping to hear from Skylar. But I doubted that he would call this late.

I felt my body tense up. “What if that's Sarita?” I asked, my eyes wide open.

Phil looked like if he hadn't seen a ghost, he'd at least seen a rat.

“Don't answer it,” he ordered.

“She's my friend, I can't betray her.”

“You're not betraying her,” Phil insisted. “Just pretend you're not home.”

“The voice mail has picked up now,” I said. “Maybe I should check to see who it was. Maybe it wasn't Sarita. Maybe it was somebody else.” I picked up the phone. “They didn't leave a message,” I reported. “It probably
was
Sarita; she figured I wasn't home, and didn't want to leave a message. She doesn't know you're here, does she?”

“No, of course not. She'll think I went over to my mother's.”

“Why
didn't
you go there?”

“Because I wanted to talk to
you
.”

“I don't want to be drawn into the middle of you and Sarita's mess,” I said, holding my hands up in a defensive posture.

“You would listen to
her
, if she were here.”

“We've been friends since MP High.”

“You and I go all the way back to Morgan Park, too.”

“But Sarita and I are good girlfriends. And you're not coming between us,” I added, pointing my finger. “So don't
even
go there.”

Phil held his head in his hands. He took a deep breath and blew it out. “All I want is someone to talk to, Dee Dee. I don't want anything else from you.”

“Don't you have any male friends?”

Phil groaned. “I can't just call up a buddy.”

“Why not?”

“'Cause the conversation would last about two minutes max. Men don't listen to other men's problems unless they owe them money. You're the only one I can really open up to.”

“I just hate being in the middle, that's all,” I said, folding my arms and letting out a frustrated sigh.

Phil took another deep breath and puffed out his cheeks like he was playing a trumphet.

Easing down on the couch, I reluctantly asked, “So, what was the argument about?”

Phil turned the recliner in my direction. He leaned forward hopefully, like I was a hotshot lawyer who'd just agreed to take his case.

“It started off pretty lame. It wasn't like I wasn't used to being nagged.” He shook his head. “But something in me just snapped. I saw myself in the prime of my life, day in and day out living with a nag and not gettin' none most of the time on top of it.”

“Sex?”

“Yeah, she's always too tired or not in the mood, lately.”

“Maybe what you two need is a vacation.”

“I need a vacation, all right. A long vacation
away
from her.”

“I can't help you, then.” I yawned. “You oughta head head back home. Sarita might be worried.”

“If she is, she can just stay worried, as far as I'm concerned. I don't want her up in my face talking more foolishness tonight. I need a good night's sleep. Dee Dee, doesn't your couch pull out?”

“Yeah, it's a sofa bed. But you can't sleep here.”

“Why not? I thought we were friends.”

“We are. And if you want us to stay friends, you better bounce.”

“We're not
real
friends then,” Phil grumbled.

“We
are
real friends,” I insisted.

“No, we ain't. If you were
really
my friend, you would understand that I need a change of scene. You would understand how bored I am with my life. You would understand why I just need to chill out for a minute.”

“I do understand. I'm just not letting you chill out over here. You know I have an allegiance to Sarita.”

“Allegiance is something that you pledge to the flag. It's just some words that you mouth. It really doesn't mean that much.”

“Well, I'll make it plain then. I'm not going to mess around with anybody's husband, let alone one of my closest friend's husband.”

“Fine, I respect you for that. I'm not asking you to mess around with me. I'm simply asking you to open your couch to me as a friend, in my own right.” Phil sounded sincere, with pleading puppy dog eyes.

“I'm not sure I can do that without jeopardizing my friendship with Sarita.”

“Dee Dee, as much as I joke about it, it did me good to drive over here to the North Side.” Phil stood up and began to pace with his arms folded. He paused at one of my warehouse windows. “I might not want to live over here, but it's a nice place to visit,” he conceded, continuing to pace. “It's just nice to be out, seeing something different. Being in your condo, checking out your magazines and books, the art and CDs, sitting on different furniture, looking at a different view. Wondering where your cat's hiding at.” He streched his neck in the direction of my upstairs level.

It's come to that
, I thought. Your life has become so humdrum, that even wondering where Langston is hiding breaks the monotomy. Phil's quest for variety was almost endearing.

“Don't you understand?” he asked. “Everybody needs to get out sometimes. Everybody needs a change. You know what I mean?”

“I'm not sure. It's one thing to take a drive; it's another to bail out of a twenty-two-year marriage.”

“Look, I want to keep my family together. Lord knows I wanna do that. But I don't think I can stick it out for the sake of the kid anymore.”

I stood up and faced Phil. “It would be hard on Sarita if you left. You know that. But it would be really hard on Jason. He looks up to you. And Jason still has to face the teenage years.”