The Ex Factor: A Novel (40 page)

“Damn, your speeches are good, girl.” Celeste lit a cigarette, took a drag, and flicked the ashes. “Almost good enough to make me want to forgive, well scratch that, make me want to think about forgiving you.”

“I can't believe you said that to me!” Monica started to cry. “What the fuck do you keep crying for?” Imani said. “I am so sick of this shit. You know what, Celeste? Monica keeps trying and trying, but quite frankly I don't want to hear no more apologies. Fuck it. Now I'ma put the shit out there. The truth of the matter is you are nasty and have always been nasty. You say mean and hurtful things and then you think because you are fat and fuckin' miserable that people should take shit from you. Well guess what? It doesn't work that way. So you were her sister, my sister, our sister, but you have always treated us like shit.”

“I have not always treated you like shit!”

“Yes you have!” Monica dried her eyes. “You have never treated us like your sisters, so get off your high horse and kill it! ‘Let's see if ya rotten-ass womb makes you a baby.’ Remember that shit?”

“Yeah, and?” Celeste said. “Did it?”

“You tell me. It seemed you learned the lesson the hard way.”

“Monica—” Starr said, attempting to interrupt.

“Oh please,” Monica continued, “don't
Monica
me. 'Cause it's not just me, it's you too!” She pointed to Starr. “You created this ex-factor bullshit. You taught us how
not
to let go. When we were kids, every time we turned around, it was man after man after man. Never once did we have anybody stay around. And the ones we liked—seemed like they left the fastest. So when we grew up and got a man of our own, we struggled to hold on to him! And now look at us. Look at us!”

“Wait a minute now,” Starr said, surprised. “You can't sit back and say that I'm responsible for every fucked-up decision that you've made because I've had a lot of boyfriends.”

“Ma,” Celeste said, “as much as I hate to agree with Monica, we each have different fathers that we don't even know.”

“Okay,” Starr said, not sure how else to respond.

“Ma,” Imani said, “what do you mean okay? I'm not really the one to talk… but how do you stop making the same mistakes? Don't get me wrong, I love Kree and I want to be with him for the rest of my life, but I'm scared. I'm scared of this love that feels right, one day feeling wrong, and how will I know when that has happened? And what will I do? I mean, how many times did I go through love feeling right with Walik and then some kind of way it turned out to be wrong.”

“Then it was never love,” Starr said. “You have to understand that although the way Walik treated you was messed up, you always had the choice to walk away.”

“Yeah, but you have to be taught different to know different. And what I learned from you was that I needed to find a man to hold on to. That's what I learned, which is why I always chose Walik—”

“And Sharief,” Celeste added.

“No matter the cost,” Monica said.

“Okay.” Starr swallowed hard. “I will agree that I've made some bad choices. But your problems are not all my fault.”

“No, Ma,” Monica responded, “they're not all your fault. We are grown now, but you damn sure laid the foundation for us not being able to tell the difference between one bad ex and the next.”

“Now look, I will take responsibility for what I've created, but don't blame all of your broken hearts on me. We are women and we have to accept the past and move on. I know that I have had plenty of men, some of them I regret and some of them I don't. The truth is that every time I was with one of your fathers, I loved him. Period. There is no analyzing why, when, and how much, just know that I did. But when I left them it was because it was no longer working. That's what I was taught: if the shit doesn't work leave it alone.”

“But did you think about us?” Celeste asked.

“No.” Starr bit her bottom lip. “I didn't. I never thought of you as being a part of your fathers. I always thought of you, each of you, as being mine. And where I went you went and if your fathers didn't follow then so be it. And maybe that was wrong, or maybe I was running from something, I don't know. But now that I'm married and have been in the same relationship for six years I've learned that love starts with me loving me. And it's not dictated by how big my man's dick is, how great he can lick and stick, if he takes me home to meet his mother, or even how well he treats my children.”

“Ma—” Celeste said.

“Let me finish. This pains me because you are my children and I see the emptiness that used to be me inside of each of you, and that's not what I want for you. I want you to know that love is not abuse, it's not cheating or having to settle. Love is unselfish, understanding, and compromising. It doesn't beat your ass because you want something different. It doesn't come to you because the one it's married to can't screw like you, and it doesn't turn away from you because you've gained a pound or two.

“Love doesn't hurt; it's what we do and the craziness we accept in the name of love that causes us pain. Now.” Starr cleared her throat. “I want every woman in this room to take her past and put it in perspective. Don't let it run your life. It's a lesson in everything. So you need to figure out what your lesson is, apply it, and keep it movin'.”

“That's something we may try, Ma. It may not happen all at once.” Celeste glanced at Monica. “But somehow we don't have a choice.”

Starr did everything she could not to cry. She sniffed and poured herself another glass of wine. She handed the bottle to Imani, who poured herself a glass, with everyone else following suit. After filling their glasses, they each held them in the air. “Here's to the abundance of shit ex-factors left us to deal with.”

“Amen.” They all laughed. “Amen.”

“Look, I don't mean to break up ya moment,” Mama Byrd said, “but speakin' of shit, anybody seen my portable toilet?”