Teenage Love Affair (8 page)

“I know you're lying.”

Sure you do.

“And you may not believe it, but you can tell me anything.”

I almost choked. Is she serious?

“I'm your mother and I won't judge you—”

Calling me a liar and you're tired of me being stupid is sooooo nonjudgmental.

“I love you, Zsa-Zsa.”

Now that I didn't doubt.

“And I just want you to know that I really do understand.”

Did I miss something or was she a stand-up comedian now? God, I wish she would just leave.

I guess after a few minutes of silence, her running out of words, and me giving her the face that I had stopped listening a long time ago, she got the hint. “Well, good night,” she said. “I'm here if you need me.”

“Good night.” I turned over and buried my head under the covers.

I
was in hell. I slipped down the slope from being a flygirl to being a desperate one. And what's messed up is that I didn't remember when the transformation took place. All I could see and all I could feel was pain…and sorrow…revenge…and embarrassment. It was like Ameen was proving the point of everyone who said he was worthless and he was making me pay for it.

Sometimes I thought I was waiting for someone to jump out the closet and say, “Psych, chica, this ain't your life. This is an extended episode of Hell date.” But no one had jumped out yet.

I eased out the bed, stood at the mirror, and looked at my face. My eye was swollen and red and my face was tri-toned: milk chocolate on one side and black and blue on the other. The bruises on my face felt like aching tears, and there was no way with everybody and their mama in Club Heated last night that I was going to school.

But then again, I had to go, because if I didn't then everyone would think that Ameen and the chick he was with had punked me. I felt bad enough as it was, so there was no way I could go out like that.

Just as I decided that I could wear makeup and my Chanel sunglasses and simply tell my teachers I had pink eye, my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID because there were only a select few that I wanted to talk to. But it was Asha so I picked up.

“Wassup?” I said, attempting to play off the tears trembling my throat. I was so sick and tired of being a crybaby.

“Wassup?” Asha said, taken aback. “We need to talk. I had my brother drop me off. So, I'm outside. Open the door.”

I looked at the clock and it was six
AM
. “You're kidding me, right?” There was no way she could see me like this. “Why are you here this time of the morning anyway?”

“Because I couldn't sleep thinking about you. Now, open the door,” she insisted.

“I'm grown. I got this.”

“Would you open this door! I already know your eye is black.”

“Fine.” I hung up and slipped on my robe and slippers. As I tipped to the front door the living room light popped on. “Zulu,” Cousin Shake said, “where you goin'? And in ya robe at that?”

Already I was sick of him sweatin' me. I'm not gon' be able to live like this. “I'm not going anywhere, Cousin Shake.” I turned around and almost threw up in my mouth. Why was he standing in the doorway of his room with a short waist housecoat on and a tight pair of Speedos? His knees looked as if someone painted them with powder, and someone please tell me why did he have on white sweat socks to the knees with green stripes going around the top and brown corduroy slippers?

I shielded my eyes. “Cousin Shake, please put some clothes on.”

“Don't try and get off the subject. I said where are you goin'?”

“Nowhere.”

“You coulda fooled me. You ain't walkin' no street corners, is ya? The gold digger in ya comin' out?” He started shaking his shoulders and moving his feet from side to side as if he were doing the crip walk. “I ain't sayin' she a gold diggin',” he rapped, “but she ain't messin' wit' no broke-to broke-to broke figures…. That's Shake's remix. Now where ya goin'?” He stopped dancing.

“Cousin Shake, why are you sweatin' me, dang?!”

“'Cause I'm security. Strollin, bad kids too grown–and ya mama can't control you security. Smell me? Now, where ya goin'?” He picked up his supersized bottle of blessing oil. “Or it's gon' be a problem. And is that a black eye on your face?”

“I have pink eye.” I turned my head.

“Eye looks black to me,” he said suspiciously.

“Look, my friend is at the door and I need to open it.”

“At six o'clock in the morning? What kinda friend is this? She a freak or she owe you money or something?”

I just looked at Cousin Shake, because this grilling was going on too long. Now I knew for sure that I was definitely going to school. There's no way I could swing with this cat at the house all day. Instead of responding I opened the door and Asha walked in. She looked directly at Cousin Shake and for a moment I thought she was going to pass out. “Asha.” I grabbed her hand to help her maintain her balance. “He's harmless. Cousin Shake, this is Asha, and Asha, this is Cousin Shake. Now, Asha, just close your eyes and follow me.”

“I don't give a damn if you don't like my night gear,” Cousin Shake said, “long as you recognize who I am, the house police. I'm gon' police er'thang that go on around here, from the rooter to the tooter. And school is in a couple of hours,” he yelled as I closed my door, “so don't make me have to come in there and get you!”

Asha swallowed. “Who is that?”

“'Bout seven I'm gon' be truancy,” Cousin Shake screamed through my door. “Don't you worry about who I am. You didn't come to talk about me. You a li'l girl and I already got a wife.”

“He sure does!” Ms. Minnie yelled behind him.

I looked at Asha. “Didn't I tell you God hated me?”

Asha laughed. “Oh…kay…you might want to come and visit me more often. But anyway, I really need to see what's the problem and what is going on with you.”

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. “What are you talking about? And can you talk a little lower? I don't need them in my business.”

“You know what I'm talking about,” she whispered. “Ameen putting his hands on you.”

“I hit him first, Asha. He ain't beatin' on me. Don't get carried away.”

“Are you serious, do you even hear yourself? You sound like a health class subject or documentary on abuse. Has he been beating on you?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I mean we bang sometimes but it's not abuse, thank you. I am not some kind of victim.”

“You shouldn't be bangin' at all.”

“Did you come over here to give me a lecture at this time of the morning?”

“No. I came over here because you are my best friend.” Her eyes filled with tears. “And I love you.”

“Why are you cryin'? Are you buggin' out?” I walked over to my closet and laid my clothing out for that day, including the sunglasses to match.

Asha sat silently as I laid my dark blue skinny leg jeans, sky blue midriff sweater, and accessories on the edge of the bed. I felt like her eyes were burning a hole through me, so I said, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“'Cause like, I don't even know what to say or what to do to make you listen.”

“Asha, it's nothing. Like, you're making a bigger deal out of it than it is.”

“Why don't I believe that?” She shook her head toward the ceiling.

“Well, believe it,” I insisted.

“Zsa, do you know how many times I have heard that from you?”

“Could you get out my neck, please?” I said, exhausted.

“Zsa-Zsa.” She walked over by my closet and sat on the edge of my desk. “How do you think I lost my mother?”

“You said she died of cancer.”

Asha shook her head and wiped her tears. “No, I just told everybody that because I was too embarrassed to say that she was beatin' to death by her boyfriend.”

“What?” I turned toward her.

“Yeah, he beat the hell out my mother, and no matter how many times she would say, ‘I'm leaving, this is it,' it never was. And if he bought her gifts, then she was all in and back to acting like he was the man of her dreams. And you know what happened in the end?”

While Asha spoke all I could see was my father's face. “What? He died?” I spat out a bit too fast, assigning her the ending of my story.

“No. She died. He slapped her and she hit her head on the bathtub. She died before the ambulance took her out of the house. And I saw the whole thing.”

“Oh…Asha, I'm so sorry….” I gave her a hug. I didn't know what else to do.

“Don't be sorry.” Asha wiped her eyes again. “Just don't let that be your life. I'm telling you, Ameen is trash, dump him and keep it movin'.”

I swear I got Asha's point, but it did not apply to my life. “Asha, Ameen doesn't beat me. Besides, I hit him in the club first. And anyway, I'm done with him. He was cheating on me with that busted broad.”

“Whatever, Zsa.” She shook her head. “Whatever.”

“Anyway,” I said, “I'ma wear these glasses all day. You think I can get away with it?” I slid them on.

“More than just your eye is bruised,” she said as her eyes roamed my face.

“Duh.” I rolled my eyes. “I know, but I have concealor for my face, but I can't do anything about my eye swelling.”

“Maybe you need to stay home?”

“Not. Then everybody will think that I let Ameen and the chick he was with win.”

“Win what?” Asha looked confused.

I ignored her and an hour later I was dressed and my face was made up. I looked at the clock. 7:00
AM
. Just as I went to tell Asha I was ready my door started thumping. I swear I hated that sound.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

“Zebra, open up!” Cousin Shake screamed.

“Zebra?”
Asha covered her mouth and fell out laughing.

Why was he pounding on my door? This man has lost his mind.

“Minnie,” I heard Cousin Shake say through my door, “you get li'l Hawaii out the bed? She got to be to school first.”

“I don't appreciate y'all bustin' up in my room like this,” I could hear my sister saying.

“Minnie, put the blessing oil in the supersoaker,” Cousin Shake said. “Let li'l Houston know we ain't the ones.” After a second of silence Cousin Shake started pounding on my door again. “Zoro!” he said. “Don't make Cousin Shake come in there after you. 'Cause I'll do it. I will drag you out that bed and you'll be going to school lookin' like Amy Winehouse. Don't play with me. You too busy being grown, but I got somethin' for you. Now try me.” He pounded on my door. “Please try me.”

“Get away from my door, now!” I said.

“Oh, hell, no!” Cousin Shake pushed my door open holding the blessing oil in his hand. “Don't show off 'cause your li'l friend is here. 'Cause she can get it too. What-what”—he looked at Asha—“you want some, you tryna do somethin'?”

“No, sir,” Asha said.

“I ain't think so. Now come on, and please don't make me lose my relish on you.”

“Relish?” I frowned. “You mean religion?”

“That's what he said.” Ms. Minnie butted into our conversation. That's when I realized that these two had on matching outfits: metallic silver MC Hammer pants and matching muscle shirts trimmed in feathers. They looked like one-hit wonders from 1980.

“Okay.” I slid my shades on. “I have to go.”

“Why you lookin' like somebody slapped you?” Hadiah frowned. “Why do you have those shades on?”

“Could you mind your business?” I snapped.

“Okay, li'l Rihanna.” Hadiah rolled her eyes. “Be crazy if you want to.”

“Li'l who?” Cousin Shake said as he ushered us into the dining room. “Lawd, y'all got the ugliest names I ever heard. Jazmyn messed y'all up. Anyway, you have to eat breakfast before you go to school.”

“That's right,” Ms. Minnie said while sitting a bowl of grits in front of Hadiah.

“Now, sit down,” Cousin Shake said. “This how Cousin Shake shows you he loves ya. Patrolling you and making sure you eat your breakfast in the morning.” He looked at Asha. “That includes you, too. You just a li'l thick so you don't need as much. Next time you come I'll make your grits taste like salad.”

I looked at Asha and she had already sat at the dining room table, so, heck, I gave in and sat down too. I picked up my spoon and started eating.

“My Jesus, y'all believe in saying grace?” Ms. Minnie frowned.

“For real,” Cousin Shake added. “You eating like a buncha untrained animals. Anybody wanna thank God? 'Cause you could be out in the street eating pissy slop.” He popped Hadiah on the back of her neck. “Halo, say grace.”

“I'm shy,” Hadiah said. “I don't know what to say.” She gave a devilish grin.

I looked at her and practically laughed in her face. My little sister was a lot of things, but shy she was not.

“Okay, well I'm gon' say grace,” Cousin Shake said. We all stood up and held hands. “Lawd-Father-Brothah,” Cousin Shake hummed, “we come this morning thanking You. Thanking You for Mary, Martin, Luke, and De'Cosey.”

“Who is De'Cosey?” Asha whispered.

“He wrote the Ten Commandments,” Cousin Shake said, opening one eye. “And we don't talk during prayer time.”

“Wasn't that Moses?” Asha whispered.

“That's what I said,” Cousin Shake said, tight-lipped. “Now talk again and see don't you get the blessing oil beat down.”

“Be quiet, Asha,” I said. “Trust me.”

Cousin Shake continued on. “So Lawd, we come thanking You for these grits, the butter, the salt, the grains it took to make the grits, and we thank You for the li'l man on the box. He looks like a good family man.”

“Oh, my God!” Hadiah said, aggravated. “God has left the building.”

Cousin Shake opened his eyes. “You need some oil?”

Hadiah quickly closed her eyes and held her head down. “Thank You, Lord, for this food,” she said.

“I thought so,” Cousin Shake said. “Now say amen.”

“Amen,” we all said.

I tried to think of the last time we had breakfast like this…and the only thing I could come up with was never. A few minutes passed and we were done and on our way to school. Hadiah walked to school because her school was only around the corner, while mine was downtown Newark and we lived in the Vailsburg section.

Asha and I hopped in my car and I picked up Courtney on our way to school. He walked out his house throwing his pink boa to the back of his shoulders. He slid into the backseat and he handed Asha a CD. “Shut up,” he said. “It's Gladys Knight, so just deal with it.”