My Sister's Ex (15 page)

“Jeff.” I gasp coming up for air. “No, I can—”

“Shhh,” he whispers and kisses me on the lips again, silencing my concerns. “Just relax, baby. Pretend like I’m your ex, Too Damn Fine.”

“Are you going to pretend like I’m—”

“Shhh, you talk too much.”

He pushes me on the bed, rubs his hands across my breasts. I’m sure by now he knows my nipples are solid, hard, an indication of my feelings for him. It’s too late to turn back now. He lifts up the hem of my dress. His hands sizzle and sparkle with passion. He strokes his fingertips across my nipples. I am torn between letting him rub me some more, and telling him I’m trying not to be that kind of girl.

But what kind of girl am I if I say I am down for Jeff, yet I don’t want him to make love to me? What kind of signal would that send?

I take his hand and pull it up to my chin. He laughs, caresses my chin for a quick moment, then places his entire hand on top of my breast. I sigh, moan, squirm underneath his large hand, which feels hot yet soothing.

Relax, I say to myself. It could be worse. As big as my breasts are, I can’t blame the man for wanting to get a good squeeze. At least he’s with me. Not with Rachel. Not with anyone else. I’m tripping out big time. I gotta enjoy this man’s company and know that I am the chosen one. I do what I have to do to be with the man I love.

An hour later, when it’s all over and Jeff and I are wiping each other’s sweat off our skin, I am trembling with insecurity. Have I made a mistake? Will he put me in the same category as the average woman? Is God disappointed with me for not being the best woman I can be? Jeez, I haven’t even waited a few months, let alone a few weeks, before I decide to lay with this guy. Jeff is smiling and talking nonstop while I quietly get dressed. Hmm, he doesn’t look like he’s disappointed in me. Us. I wonder if this will be the last time I see him.

“Hey, Beautiful Girl,” he says, his face shining with afterglow pleasure. “Thanks for coming by to see me. I know you probably got things to do and so do I. So please, call me as soon as you get home so I’ll know that you’re okay.”

I am speechless. I can only nod. Although Jeff walks me to my car and grabs my keys to open my door, his gestures fail to lift my solemn mood. I wonder what would have happened if I had chosen to go to church instead of agreeing to come see him.

On my way home, parts of me ache to call Jeff. Listen to the sound of his voice. See if I can predict our future based on the things he tells me in the minutes after we have sex. But I stay strong, not giving in to my soul’s desire, and I drive home with a variety of thoughts to keep me company.

It’s almost eleven when I step back inside the apartment.

Rachel is sitting in the living room, in the dark. The TV is on and the flickering light barely illuminates the room.

She reaches over to flick on the lamp when I enter the apartment.

“Don’t!” I say.

“How was church?” she asks.

I want to sniff myself … is Jeff on me right now?

“Um.” I sigh heavily. “I wish I knew.”

“Huh? Didn’t you go?”

“No!”

“Then where were you all this time?”

“I was, shoot, I am so tired, and I got to get up in the morning. Need to get ready for tomorrow.”

“You’re not answering my question, Marlene.”

“I-I was with him.”

“Oh.”

I stand in the middle of the room like I’m waiting for her to toss a hundred more questions at me.

“Did you have fun?”

Shocked, I reply, “It was um, it was cool …”

“You don’t sound too convincing.”

“Rachel, I want to ask you something, but don’t think anything of it. It’s just hypothetical.”

She laughs, but she replies, “Sure.”

With the light from the TV flickering and the volume turned low, I say, “How long did you wait before having sex?”

She’s quiet, thoughtful. “I assume you’re talking about having sex with Jeff, because you already know about when I lost my virginity.”

“Um.”

“Don’t answer.” She stands up, flicks on the light, stares at me with an unbelievably hurt expression etched on her face. She scrunches up her nose, starts sniffing, then stops.

“Did you have sex with him, Marlene? Please tell me you didn’t.”

When I remain quiet, she screams and dashes madly from the room, sobbing and covering her mouth with her hands.

I head for my room, stop dead in my tracks, return toward Rachel’s room, but end up in the bathroom. I lock the
door behind me, remove my clothes, and firmly twist the shower knob. A blast of water streams from the shower, a fountain of rain that soothes and relaxes my soul.

The noise from the shower is loud, but not deafening enough to drown out my sister’s exasperated yelling right outside the door.

“How can you do this? You’re so stupid, so cruel. I’ve told you I don’t know how many times how I feel, and you just go on like you can’t hear or don’t care? How can you let a man come between us? How can you stand to look yourself in the mirror, Marlene? Huh? Say something. I know you hear me.”

I hear her, but I’m too busy, standing naked in the shower, washing all traces of Jeff from every place his fingers explored my body.

I shower for as long as possible and am relieved when I no longer hear Rachel screaming at me through the door. Yet, when I finish cleaning my body and am thoroughly dry and have applied lotion to my skin, I slip my arms through the sleeves of my robe and go look for my sister.

Rachel’s sitting on the couch, one leg lodged under her thigh. The TV is turned off. It’s so quiet. Eerie. She’s staring into space; a dead, cold look fills her vacant eyes.

“Little Bit,” I begin.

“Don’t talk to me.”

“I can’t help but talk to you, Rachel. Just hear me out.”

“Nothing you can say will make any difference. I can’t even stand to look at you.”

“Sweetie, please.”

“Enough with your little pet names. Save those gestures for your fucking
boy
friend, and the boyfriend that you’re
fucking.”

She yells so loud I jump back in surprise. This has gone too far.

“Rachel Merrell, be quiet and listen to me for a minute. You need to get a grip—”

“I’ll grip your—”

“Stop it. Wait. Please hear me out.”

“Go ahead.”

“To me you’re acting so … I have rights, too, ya know. Believe it or not, it’s not all about Rachel Merrell. And I am not going to live my life getting your permission to live, to breathe, to be.”

She folds her arms slowly and glares at me.

“I want to be honest with you, Sis,” I say in a gentle, more controlled voice. “That’s the only thing I can promise you right now. I won’t tell you everything you think you want to hear; I’ll be true to myself and tell you the reality.”

“Oh, really. And why do you think I want to hear it?”

“Because you’ve asked me a hundred questions all last weekend, you ask questions every day. So you can’t tell me you don’t want to hear this, Sis, unless you are lying to yourself. Now, can you handle the truth, or do you never want me to speak to you ever again?”

Unbelievably, she stares into space, face stony, for a full fifteen minutes, and when she finally decides to answer, all she says is “Truth.”

I remember the first time Rachel and Jeff made love. They had the nerve to do it in our apartment on a Tuesday night. Reason why I remember is because I went to a revival service that evening. We had a glorious time at church. I got home quite late, almost midnight. You can tell how good church is by how late you get home.

So I here I was, happy and singing, but I toned it down once I reached our front door; I quietly entered the apartment
because, shoot, I didn’t want to disturb Rachel. I got undressed, hopped into bed. I tried to fall asleep. But I had trouble getting comfortable in bed. Too many strange sounds kept me awake. Moans. Groans. Grunts. And I could hear the headboard steadily banging against the wall. Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

I thought, What the heck is all that noise? I assumed the noise came from someone else’s apartment. But then I heard this wail, “Ooohhh, Jeff, oh baby, oh baby.”

I started blushing like I was the one having loud sex late at night. But an hour later, still awake, I sat up in bed craning my neck to listen. Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap. That poor wall really took a beating. I couldn’t believe my sister could last that long. I never lasted that long. And Jeff obviously could last that long. Moments later, I quietly got out of bed. I left my room and kept going till I was outside Rachel’s door. I heard Jeff say, “Ohhhh Rachel, your pussy tastes so good and feels wet. You like that? You want some more?”

She screamed, “Don’t talk, keep licking.” Then she purred like a cat. They had pillow talk conversations. Made wild animal sounds. Alternately screeching, moaning, and laughing. I felt silly, nosy, and jealous. When I started yawning and bobbing my head like a drug addict, I knew it was time to go. I got back in bed, finally fell asleep. I felt real groggy when I woke up that morning, like Rachel wasn’t the only one Jeff kept up all night.

That morning, I slid out of bed to go take my shower. I passed by my sister, who was busy in the kitchen. She was cracking some eggs, frying sausage patties, and stirring a pot of grits. She looked relaxed, incredibly peaceful. She served me my breakfast like I was her houseguest. Rachel waited till that night to tell me about the great time she had with Jeff. I listened to her go on and on about the fantastic sex that she
said she could get used to having. I never told her I heard them going at it all night. But when I told Loretta about what Rachel told me, she said, “A real woman never gives all the details about what her man does to her in bed. That’s dangerous.”

So tonight when Rachel claims she wants to hear the truth, I ask her, “Do you want hear the whole truth and nothing but the truth?”

“Marlene, stop being so difficult and tell me.”

I softly reply, “We were kissing and stuff, making out, and I let him put it in me, barely. Actually it was good, but it wasn’t what I thought it would be.” I pause and blankly stare at her.

“I don’t want to hear any more.”

“But you said you want the truth.”

“Just because I say that doesn’t mean it’s what I really want.”

“Okay, Rachel. Now that you know what we’ve done, what do you want? Do you want me to be happy, Rachel?”

She stares at me. “Sure, I do … It’s just that … I don’t like how you’re going about it.”

“Tell me something. Do you think you’ll be okay with me and him in time?”

“Marlene, I think you don’t realize what you’re doing. He wants me back, did you know that?”

“Did you know that he was accidentally carrying your ring in his pocket?”

“What did you say?”

“Yes, he told me. Tonight. Told me how you assumed he still loves you, but he said that he only cares for you … like you’re his sister.”

“Jeff said that?”

“Yes, Rachel, yes.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“You want to call him?”

She covers her ears with her hands. I run and pick up my cell. Come back waving it in her face. “We can call him now, Rachel. Nip this in the bud.”

“Marlene, please don’t do that.”

“You can’t handle the truth. You say you want it, but you cannot and will not be able to deal.”

“The truth is, I can deal with him. If he truly forgot about the ring, which I seriously doubt, then I can deal with that. It’s an honest mistake. But you,” she says, staring at me, “you are a whole different matter.”

“Well, what about—”

“Hold up, I’m not done, Marlene. Remember when I dated that guy named Obie?”

I nod.

“And I introduced you to him. And he couldn’t take his eyes off you. And it made me upset?”

“Yeah, you actually threw my cell phone in the bathtub because you found out he’d called me.”

“Right. He called you. And you got so arrogant. You thought it meant he truly wanted you. In a way that he didn’t want me.”

“Yeah, right.”

“But when I told him to lay off, he never talked to you again. He apologized to me. He said he had a temporary lapse in judgment.”

“Yes,” I whisper. “I remember.”

“Jeff is Obie part two. I doubt that Jeff accidentally was carrying my ring. He’s just telling you that to cover his ass. But regardless of all that, I know his judgment when it comes to you is questionable.”

“You’re still jealous, I see,” I tell her in a trembling voice.

“I feel what I feel, Marlene. And if it takes you getting
hurt to believe that I’m telling the truth, to find out I’m not as jealous as you think I am, so be it. Have you ever considered I may be trying to protect you? That I’m not totally jealous of you? That what you say is jealousy might be sisterly concern?”

“Not that I haven’t thought about it. I can’t imagine it, Rachel. But what I’m building with Jeff right now isn’t my imagination. It’s real. You want me to call him? You want to see for yourself?”

She sighs, defeated. “I care about you more than you can understand, Marlene.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Much more than you’ll ever know.”

— 9 —
R
ACHEL

Have You Thought About Online Dating?

“Hey, Miss Hardly Berry!”

It’s a few weekends later in early April. I have just arrived at our self-defense training and have taken a seat near the back of the room. It is a few minutes before the session begins, and my fellow classmates are lingering about, clutching containers of coffee in their hands and catching up on what everyone did the past week. My girl Alita is sitting next to me brimming with joy a wonderful glow emanating from her face.

“Wow, whatever you have, can you give some of it to me?” I tell her.

“Hey, you can have what I have, but are you willing to do what it takes to get it?”

“Girl, stop talking in riddles. Speak plain English to me.”

“Sometimes I’m not even sure you’d understand English.”

“Ha, Alita, are you trying to call me dumb?” I laugh.