Mr. and Mrs.: Lovely Secrets

Mr. and Mrs. : Lovely Secrets

 Dear Lovely,                                                                                                      February, 15 2008

 Hey Love what’s up? Nothing much with me just chillen as usual. Well girl you know my life is never without drama. I don’t know why I can’t stop thinking about Mister. Yesterday I was on Myspace, and this cat gone get this chic a whole birthday cake dude (like are you serious?). Have I ever gotten a cake, a cupcake, a cookie, a wave, some attention? Nothing, but he can do that for this ugly chic.(Huhhh) I got played for an anorexic …….LOL. OK, I know that was mean, but I’m sayin doe she wack.  She the same girl from down the block. (Wow) I bet she don’t know he still be callin me , and trying to see me doe, but he talking about he just want to be my friend .This nigga silly.

I started my diary the same way for over almost a decade.  Lovely, a college ruled notebook, covered in bright red lip stains, had been there for me through every trial and tribulation I could think of. She did what no one in this world could do for me, which was listen, and never utter a word of judgment. My life story hung on every black line, and I fed Lovely my deepest darkest secrets with zero inhibitions.  I knew she would never divulge anything we ever spoke of like past gossiping ex-friends had. She held my brutally honest perspective. She held my trust.

 The evening of February 15, 2008 was no different than any other night, and Lovely was there, like she always had been, every so subtly assisting me with some of my toughest decisions. I had heard the advice from countless outsiders, some good and some horrible), on what I should do about the Mister situation, yet I was still confused. I wrote diligently hoping to find the answer.

I mean like why do I even care? If he wants her then, hell, he can have that bitch, but he silly as hell cause he steady hittin me up , and trying to kick it while he all cuddled up with her on every picture on Myspace.  Damn, Love, I really love him, but I swear to God I’m not competing with no other female for him. I shouldn’t have to do that. Right?

 Mister and I played a peculiar tango. He would talk to me for hours on the phone ever so gently alluding to sexual innuendos, while simultaneously ignoring his relationship with Mrs. He would keep the conversations very playful for most of the time, telling jokes, and talking about things that really didn’t matter. I don’t know if this was a way to protect my feelings, or to avoid a heated discussion either way it pissed me off.

One of his greatest techniques of distraction was to play off of our similarities. For instance, we both were beyond humorous ( I was actually crowned 2007 class clown of Chaney High school ). I loved to laugh, which is why 75% of the time I was easily distracted by a joke or two. We both fell victims to romantic comedies, and our favorite was the movie Brown  Surgar. The tale of Sydney Shaw (Sanaa Lathan), and Andre Dre Ellis (Taye Diggs) being childhood friends , and eventually falling head over heels through their hip hop connection was my modern-day Romeo and Juliet. In the movie hip hop represented their undying love for one another, and somehow I believed Mister and I would overcome our battle and fall madly in love ( I know I watched way too many romantic comedies).

Mister and I quoted lines from that movie to each other all the time. It wasn’t rare for him to randomly ask me, “So when did you fall in love with hip hop”? My answer was contingent upon my mood. I knew what he was really asking me so if I was upset with him I’d respond with “Oh I never loved hip hop I am more of an R&B type of girl,” or if I happen to be feeling him at the moment  I would say something  like “I have always loved Hip Hop from day one,”.

Mister fascinated me. He clearly wanted to be with Mrs. more than me. Contrary to popular belief I wasn’t completely oblivious to that fact, but yet he seemed to constantly insist he remain in my life. No matter how many times I explained my grievance that were politely ignored he made sure that I was aware that he would not stand for it if I cut the relationship off. Every time I told him I couldn’t go on any longer living this way he pleaded that I readjust my thought process. I was reluctant to leave the situation because I believed that he would eventually see the light.

Why can’t he just be with me? I would be the perfect girl for him. We are like so compatible. He said he loved me? Is she really that much better than me?

It was about 10 o’clock on a Saturday night, and I had just gotten done watching Brown Surgar on BET. I’d seen this movie over a dozen times, and I basically knew every line.  It was the last scene when Syd explained on the radio station how much she was in love with hip hop. Miraculously ‘Dre heard her plea over the airwaves, and came rushing to her immediately, and they were finally together because nothing could keep true love apart.

“Nothing can keep true love apart,”, I thought to myself.

With tears in my eyes I began to call Mister.

“What up Big head,”. He said.

“What you doin,”. I uttered in a low tone trying to mask my tears.

“What’s wrong,”? He asked.

I knew I had to make up a believable lie because he would not stop asking me that if he knew I was crying.

“Oh, I think I’m coming down with something. My throat is a little swollen,”. I said with my fingers crossed hoping he would buy it.

“Oh OK. Hope you ain’t caught nothin from nobody,”. He said followed by a bellowed laughter.

I faked a wonderful laugh, and almost surprised myself at my deception. Little did Mister know I was about to lay it on him. I was about to tell him just like Syd had told Dre that I was in love with him, and had always been. Our love was no coincidence it was fate. I wasn’t supposed to wait for him to make the decision I had to tell him the decision was already made. I was a millisecond away from completely exploding when I saw a tear drop land on a page of my diary, and I read a passage I had written over a year ago.

Dear Lovely,                                                                                                        March   12, 2007

Hey Love. It hurts knowing that he’s not here, but worst when I see him near her. Damn I keep telling myself these feeling are ridiculous.

My tear drop caused the ink to bleed, but the smeared words were as relevant to me now as they had been the year before. I told Mister my mother was on the other line, and I hung up.

Mr. and Mrs.: Lovely Secrets Pt. 2 Coming soon……

6 Pills

6 Pills

I was an 18-year-old outlaw. Up until this moment I hadn’t gotten more than a few detentions for minor infractions, but now I was in the big league sitting tough with the rest of the juvenile delinquents. I had gotten a three day suspension for arguing with my one and only arch enemy Jamice.

For two years Jamice and I were at odds with each other. I used my wit and humor to make fun of her whenever my friends and I passed her in the hall way, and she made sure she did the same. The both of us had Chaney High school divided. We were like the female teen-aged version of Nas and Jay Z, and the day in question was Nas’ release of Either. I had put up with enough.

“So I heard you said….” I said as I marched over to Jamice’s locker with balls of fury in my eyes.

I don’t know who I was that day, but those four words led me into the hot seat, and eventually got me suspended for three days. I was livid.

My great aunt, Patricia, picked me up from school. She didn’t say much after I told her what happen. She kind of grunted, and dropped me off at my grandparent’s house. I had been living with my grandparents my senior year. My mother was in Columbus, and my father lived across town.

I walked into the kitchen, and saw my grandma sitting down peeling potatoes.

“Hey grandma,”.  I said making sure I didn’t make eye contact.

My aunt had obviously informed my grandmother of the news.

“So I heard you got kicked out of school today,”? My grandmother said. “Yea, the girl is crazy, and it wasn’t my fault,”. I replied.

My grandmother, never missing a beat peeling those potatoes, squinted her eyes a bit, and gave me a look that said she had heard that line before.

She didn’t say anything, but I got the point.

I called my mother, and told her the news. She gave me a similar kind of nonchalant, but disappointed reaction.

“You know better than that,”. She said.

I never told my father because, quite frankly, it never crossed my mind to mention it to him. It wouldn’t be the first time he didn’t know something about me, and besides, no one else cared so I figured everything was fine.

I was in day one of my suspension at the mall with friends (I know I really must’ve learned my lesson) when I got a call from my father. Unbeknownst to me my suspension and a few other things had caused a war on the home front.

“Why didn’t you tell me you got suspended,”? He asked.

“ I don’t know,” I replied.“ I didn’t think it was that big of a deal,”.

I answered his questions in a civil manner while I thought “ Umm I didn’t fucking tell you I got suspended because I don’t fucking live with you, Duh. I mean, what were you going to do call my grandparents, and tell them to send me to my room,”.

“You tell me everything else, but you didn’t think to tell me that huh Eartha,”? He asked.

I was silent, but I was extremely agitated. I was at the mall minding my own business, and now this man was bombarding me with such an unnecessary confrontation.

Before I could attempt to pretend like I might come up with an answer for his rhetorical question, my mother beeped in on the other line.

“Eartha,”. She said in a tone that I knew all too well. Someone had really pissed her off, and I hope my dad hadn’t called her and gotten her all riled up when she and I had already made our peace with the situation.

“Yea Ma,”. I said.

“Have you talked to your father,”? She asked.

“Aww, damn he dun got to my mom with this BS,” I thought.

“Yea I talked to him,” I said. I got mentally prepared for war. I was ready to remind my mother that she couldn’t renege on our previous conversation just because my dad had gotten mad. That was just simply unfair.

“Well did he tell you he just cussed me out,”? She asked. “Whhhhhhhhhat,”? I yelped loud enough for everyone in the shoe store to look at me. I wasn’t expecting to hear that.

“Yea, I called him because granddad been complaining about having to take you to work, and he didn’t get the child support check because it doesn’t come the last week of December, and your father made promises he hasn’t been keeping,”. She said.

It was true. My father hadn’t been taking me to work, and I had explained the money situation to my gradmother a few weeks ago, and I thought everything was okay.

“So what did he say to you,”? I asked

“He called me all kinds of names, and left me a long message on my voicemail,”. She said. “He said you hated me,”?

 I could hear the hurt in my mother’s voice even though she tried to hide it.I was disgusted. I couldn’t believe my dad had repeated words I had said two years ago in a fit of rage, depression, and, more importantly, confidence. I never meant for my mother to ever hear those words no matter how mad I got, and now he had just pissed me all the way off.

“How dare he say that to her,”? I thought.

I confronted my dad, and things didn’t end well at all. I vowed I didn’t need him anyways, and his absence there after wouldn’t faze me either.

I got back to my grandparent’s house, and got ready for work. I didn’t mention anything to my grandmother, but I knew I knew the subject would come up soon. I didn’t know sooner would happen so quickly.

My grandfather and I rode up Market Street like we always did in silence when he took me to work, but this time things were a lot tenser. Immediately he let me know why.

“You know everything cost. I am getting older, and I can’t be taking you to work every day. The money didn’t come this week,”. He said.” So what happen,”?

“It doesn’t come on the last week of December,” I said. ( I knew way more about child support than I wanted to)

“Well where is ya dad,? He asked, but I remained silent. “He said he was going to be helping out,”.

“Where is your moma,”? He asked, again I said nothing. “You eat, you wash your clothes, you know all that cost money,”. He said.

I was always afraid of my grandfather, and whenever he yelled at me I drifted into another realm. My body hadn’t moved, but my mind left the moment he uttered “You know everything cost”. I had gone off into a land I hoped I could claim as my own one day. My mind floated to a place where I could possess some peace, and not be talked to like I was the cause of the entire world’s problems, or be questioned about a fucking child support check.

My grandfather was always a stern man, and I felt like he hated me the most out of his grandchildren. I knew it wasn’t his responsibility to allow me to live with him that’s why I worked, and made sure they never had to give me anything extra. I couldn’t be held responsible for broken promises that weren’t kept by father.  No one was asking me how school was, or how my game went.I already felt like a burden, but now I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was. I was embarrassed, and hurt, yet I remained silent.

In front of everyone I was a varsity volleyball athlete, who always had the newest clothes, and shoes. I made sure to smile, and keep a good front when inside I was lifeless. My mother wasn’t there to comfort me, and I wasn’t about to tell my grandma anything. My father was living his picture perfect life on the East side with a new family.

I was too young to have to deal with this shit. I didn’t know what these people wanted from me. I was a good kid, paid room and board, wasn’t pregnant, worked and played sports, but somehow I still felt like that wasn’t enough.

I didn’t eat that night after work. I told my grandma I was too tired, and went to my room. I hit the floor within seconds. My eyes burst with tears that I had held in tight since I had spoken with my grandfather. I was emotionally drained.

“Why do I have to go through this,”? I cried out to God when I saw six pills on my dresser. I don’t know how they got there.

I was done with the façade. I had worn the mask trying to make everyone around me feel comfortable while I chocked on my own silent pleas for help. I didn’t believe my problems were big enough to warrant concern up until now. I gazed at the six anonymous pills, three small white ones, two blue, and one yellow.

“You don’t have to go through this anymore,”. I thought.

I ran to the bathroom and let the faucet run until my plastic cup was full. I caught a glimpse of my reflection, and all I could see was strife. Pain was written all over my face.

I went back into my room, picked up the pills and turned off the lights.

I was petrified, but If I did this quick everything would be over soon.

The pills melted in my hand now soaked from my tears when I swallowed them whole, and followed with a quick gulp of water.

“Forgive me Jesus,”. I said aloud.

I lay on the ground wrapped in a white quilt covered in bold red hearts (it was my favorite) unsure of what I was waiting on. A few minutes later my eyelids got heavier until they were completely closed.

I woke up in the same clothes I had fallen asleep in. It was still dark outside. They were still damp from my tears. I hopped up, turned on my bedroom lights. I frantically looked in the mirror grabbing my face. Besides two swollen eyes, and an allergic reaction from the carpet I looked pretty normal. I felt my chest to see if my heart rate was abnormally beating. It wasn’t. I looked at my alarm clock, and it was 3:30 a.m. Five hours after I had made the biggest mistake of my life.

I got off the floor, and a small grin appeared. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all.

Childhood Memories: Little girls never forget.. Wedding Bliss

I strolled down the concrete street like any other day coming home from Woodland Elementary school. I knew a few friends, but I always enjoyed the serenity of walking alone up the street to my house. I was only 8-years-old, but I understood the value of quality me time.

I passed the neighbor in the black and white cottage-styled small home. I loved to walk past her, and she if she was tending to her garden or not, usually she was. I heard the echoed voices of children’s laughter, and horns from the countless cars that drove down the street. As I approached my house two seconds later my mother greeted me with an unusual smile on her face.

Either I was in trouble, or she was just weirdly happy today. I had been cursed with women’s intuition even at an early age.

“Hi mommie,” I said.

“Hey, Eartha come sit down I have some good news for you,” she said.

“Your cousin Alicia is getting married, and she wants you to be in her wedding,” my mother said with glee.

“Really?,” I asked. “You sure she really wants me to be in her wedding,”?

“Yea, she really does,” My mother said.

I had never spoken to my mother in detail about how I felt about being in a wedding, but, in my mind, weddings were the equivalent of a little girl’s prom. I was young, but I noticed all the pretty little girls my age were in someone’s wedding as flower girls. I didn’t fully comprehend the value of marriage, but I was smart enough to observe the importance of a wedding. I wanted, so badly, for someone, anyone to consider me beautiful enough to carry their flowers down the aisle on their special day. I was ecstatic, and finally I wasn’t invisible anymore.

“Wow,” I said.

“Yea, Aunt Carol said you are going to hold your cousin Alicia’s wedding dress as she walks down the aisle,” my mother said.

It was a far cry from being a flower girl, but it was something, and I was delighted to be given the privilege to be in my first bridal party.

It was the eve before my cousin’s wedding, and I would bet anything that I was just as excited as she was. My mother had bought me the most gorgeous white two piece ensemble that I’d ever seen. My eyes lit up when she first unraveled it from plastic. The jacket was all white, and completely lace. It had pearl buttons, and was fitted in the waist. The skirt was also remarkable. He was, too, lace and it stopped at my knee.

I told any and everyone I came into contact with that I was going to be in a wedding. It was like I’d been told I was the greatest little girl that had every lived, and now the rest of the world agreed, and no longer did I have to wonder because it was official. I was stunning.

The Wedding day

I was up by the crack of dawn. I woke everyone in my grandparents’ house up. I don’t know why everyone was so sleepy anyway. “Didn’t they know there would be a wedding today,”? I thought.

 I ate a full breakfast, but didn’t get my usual seconds because I didn’t want to be too full. I had a big day ahead of me. I showered, and began getting ready.

 I felt like a solider being dressed in his uniform for the first time when my mother put on my suit. It was like the old Eartha didn’t exist anymore. I was something new, something gorgeous.  I was something to be adorned.

 My great aunt came by to put the finishing touches on my hair. My head still hurt form the burns of the straightening comb from the previous night, but I still made sure I slept like a perfect angel so there wouldn’t be a strand of hair out of place.

Fumes of burnt hair accented my grandmother’s kitchen, but I was finally complete. I had my curls, my outfit, and my mother even let me put on red lipstick. The only thing that was missing was my glass slippers, and my fairy godmother, but I imagined I would have even given Cinderella a run for her money that day.

 I looked in the mirror, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was something like amazing.

“I am pretty,” I thought to myself still unable to actually verbalize it.

I took a few pictures with my mom, and my grandmother, and we headed to the church. I didn’t know how this day could get any better.

I walked into the white building trimed in gold gripping my mother’s hand. I quickly scanned the place in search of my cousin Alicia. We both had something to be happy about today, and I hadn’t gotten the opportunity to even thank her for asking me to be in the wedding, after all.

My mother, and I looked for her a minute or two, but we couldn’t seem to find her.

I assumed she was far too busy getting ready to be bothered so I sat in the hallway in the church when a few seconds later I saw my cousin LM. She was the epitome of pretty, which was nothing new. Her hair was tied up  in a curly pony-tail, and she had on a ruffled white dress with a pink ribbon around her waist. She skipped through the church holding a bouquet of white lilies.

“She was the flower girl,”. I thought to myself.

LM was always in someone’s wedding. She was perfect and flawless. Because we were exactly the same age I always felt like I was always in direct competition with her and no matter how I tried she always won. She had better clothes, better hair, and my family just seemed to generally like her more. I knew there was no comparison. LM was just better by far.

I could feel my entire body tense up as she skipped closer, and closer to me without a care in the world. Jealously enthralled my body, once again I had come into second place to her. She was the flower girl that everyone would gaze in awe over, while I hung in the back like a second-class citizen holding on to the back of my cousin’s down like a simple peasant. I couldn’t help, but feel like shit.

“Hi Eartha,”. She said, but before I could respond someone grabbed my arm, and I could hear yelling.

“Eartha get your coat,”. My mother screamed. “We are leaving,”.

I didn’t know what was going on. Why were we leaving, and why was my mother screaming and embarrassing me? I didn’t want to leave. Sure I hadn’t gotten the best seat in the house, but it was still a seat. I had come all the way from Mansfield to Youngstown to be in this wedding.

“Eartha sorry, but apparently you ain’t good enough to be in this damn wedding,”! My mother blurted out as family members, and strangers began staring at her.

We were standing in the middle of the doorway at this point, and everyone was looking at my mother, and I. I didn’t understand what was going on, but her words pierced my insides like  Swiss army knives.

I felt my entire body go numb. My little feet ran as fast as they could across the burgundy carpet into the bathroom as tears soaked my eyes. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Where was my cousin Alicia,”? I thought. “

Swoosh. The bathroom door flung open quickly, and I was greeted by about five women covered in elegant white dresses with flowers, and bows in their hand .I looked to the right , and there stood my cousin Alicia dressed and covered in all white, and diamonds. She illuminated the room, but her face didn’t match the occasion. No one’s face did, for that matter. There was a cold stillness in the room. The kind of awkwardness that is present when you walk into a room where people were just talking bad about you. For some reason, I felt ashamed. I looked at my cousin Alicia with pleading and teary eyes. I knew she wanted me in the wedding.

Before Alicia could mum a word to me I felt someone clinch my chin with cold hands. My tears dripped in between my cousin Tamia’s   thumb and forefinger as she proceeded to twist my head in the direction she was standing. She crouched low to get to my level, and was about less than an inch from my face when she uttered a sentence that left imprints on my soul like feet in the sand. It was a sentence I will never forget.

“Eartha, stop crying this is all your fault,”. She said.

I  felt like I was a deer  surrounded by a circle of wolves in the wild. I felt like I had committed the worst atrocity known to man, and they all were seconds away from stoning me. The only problem was that I didn’t have a clue as to what I had done. I was devastated. I didn’t understand anything that was happening. I just wanted to leave.

I ran out the door screaming and crying. I just wanted to find my mother and get the heck out of that sanctuary. These people were cruel, and whether they realized it, or not, they had just completely demolished an 8-year-old’s self esteem, which already hung by a thin, and fragile thread.

I could still hear my mother yelling, and cursing out anyone who would listen. I nudged her towards the door hoping we could just leave. I was crying so hard my beautiful white lace ensemble looked more like a used dishrag.

We proceed to walk to my grandparent’s house, which was only a block away when my uncle stopped us.

“Come on Sheila, don’t go,”. He said.

I really loved my uncle, but I couldn’t have disagreed with him more. Those people in that building of God, were acting more like demons, and I just wanted to run away from it all.

“Don’t listen to him Sheila,” I thought.

She turned around, and I wanted to die. We were almost home free.

My uncle escorted my mother and I back into the church. It felt like leading us right into the pit of hell. People were staring at us like we were common criminals.

At this point it didn’t matter what happened. The damage was already done. I didn’t feel beautiful anymore, and I’d wished I could go back to simply being invisible.

No one ever explained to me what transpired that day, and I never spoke to either cousin about how their actions murdered my self esteem.  Everyone seemed to keep going through the motions as if nothing had happened. I sat in the back of the church on a wooden chair with eyes as red as cherries, and extremely swollen. I was delirious, and as my cousin said her vows, I too, made a silent promise to myself that I would never be in anyone’s wedding ever again.

Mr. and Mrs. Pt.4: Reminiscing

Thump. Thump. Thump. My foot tapped on Ce Ce’s sandy- colored hardwood floor. I chewed on the top of a black pen, while I sat glaring at her Dell computer screen contemplating what I was before my eyes.

“Can we still be friends,”? I read in my head.

I thought about deleting the message without reading it. Mister was the most bold and arrogant he had ever been. I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to even contact me, let alone ask such a ridiculous question, after he watched me lay down every ounce of myself to him. I showed every emotion brewing within my soul in that driveway the night before, and he was silent, but now he wanted to communicate over the internet. Now the words that had temporary paralyzed his tongue had mysteriously resurfaced, and he was compelled to tell me something that was supposed to ease my troubles.

My integrity, pride and self –will and esteem were all forfeited about six months after the basement party incident. I had nothing left, but an aching, yet dull pain that lay dormant until I saw him and her together. He’d taken me way past embarrassment and way past anger. I was lost. I figured I had nothing to lose or gain. He couldn’t take anything that he hadn’t already robbed me of. I was working off of pure curiosity so I decided to just opened the message.

Can we still be cool? We dun been through too much, and I’ve known you for too long. We always been cool, and don’t listen to your friends ‘cause I know they all in your ear.

The only thing I was grateful for was that he hadn’t apologized. For some odd reason that is what stood out the most in my mind. I was just happy that he didn’t apologize for doing what he always wanted to anyways. The message was already an insult, in itself, but an apology might have driven me to show up to his house, and wreak havoc.

Ce Ce was on the opposite side of her room talking to one of her many suitors. Everyone knew she had a main, yet boys lined up to play boyfriend No. 2 for her like it was a badge of honor. I didn’t know what drug she was selling to these teen-aged junkies, but I know I wanted whatever she had

 “So Mister wanna know if we can still be friends Ce Ce,”. I said.

“What,”? She yelped.

“He just sent me a message asking if we could still be friends because we have been through too much,”. I explained.

“Is this fool out of his damn mind? He gone play you for that bucket-head greyhound dog lookin chic, and then ask can we still be friends”? She questioned.

“I don’t know,”. I said. “I can’t believe he would just come at me like that,”.

“Be friends. Be friends. Ain’t nobody trying to be his friend,”. I said.

“Right. Because if he sure didn’t look like he was ya friend last night,”. She said.” Standin there lookin stupid as hell,”.

Mister was right though. We had been through a lot together. Things were clearly not good at this point, but I had fallen for the better half of him, and although he had morphed into a professional moronic narcissistic ass hole, somehow I couldn’t forget about those better days.  I couldn’t help, but reminisce about when he used to call me every night. I missed the charming mister, who almost broke his neck running to me after he caught me crying in senior home room. I wanted to get to know the dude with the sense of humor, who met me in between classes in the hallways to cuddle. I missed that guy, and I was desperately wishing for his return to glory.

Smack! My day dreams were interrupted as I fell to the floor. Ce Ce’s computer chair was a dinky unreliable appliance that I warned her would hurt someone one day. Of course, that person had to be me.

Ce Ce laughed at me, and dammit I had to laugh at myself too. My only alternative on the eve of such a horrible night  was to cry.

“Throw that damn chair away,”. I said. I dusted myself off and sat on her bed.

“What I tell you last time you said that? I will, as soon as you give me the money to buy a new one,”. Ce Ce said.

We laughed. We talked, and I tried to keep my mind off Mister. He had taken more of my time and energy than I would have liked these past two days, and I needed a break for a second to rejuvenate myself. I needed a distraction, and lord knows my best friend was great in that area.

 I was going to write Mister back, but he would have to wait until I felt like it. It wasn’t like I didn’t have plenty of others I could have pursued. I needed to dust off that black book. It was time to go to work.

Ode to Zeek: Until we meet again

 I had never seen that much fog in my entire life in Youngstown. It was an incredible. I was thinking about calling Ce Ce, and maybe try to get into some trouble tonight, but crime shows and popcorn had taken over me. I would be in tonight, and, oddly, I wasn’t even mad about it.

Horatio was seconds away from catching up to the real killer on CSI Miami when my phone rang. It was my cousin Zeek.

Zeek was about a year and half older than me. We had grown up together, and I and his sister LM were attached at the hip. We all were really like brothers and sisters, or, at least, that what it felt like to me.

“Hey what’s up Eartha,”? He asked. He had pep in his voice. He just seemed a little happier than usual tonight.

“Hey Zeek. I’m not doing nothing just chilling,”. I said. “What you doing tonight,”? I asked.

“Nothing,”. He said. “I probably just stay in for the night, what about you,”?

“Me too, “. I said.

“Why don’t you come over, you ain’t been around here in a while,”. He said.

My cousin LM (his sister) and I were not on speaking terms, at the moment. Teen-aged hormones, and girly mood swings were to blame so I hadn’t been around really to visit. I was glad to see Zeek had noticed my absence though. He was always the one who tried to be the mediator between me and his sister.

“I’ll be around soon,”. I said.

“Ight,”. He said.

We said out goodbyes and hang up.

Four hours later my coma-like sleep was interrupted by a phone call.

“Who is calling me this late,”. I thought.

What I heard next was unimaginable.

In a treary-filled, half audible and screaming plea I heard my cousin LM’s voice pirecing through the other end of the phone.

“Zeek is dead Eartha,”. She yelled over and over again.

I hung up.

My phone rang again, and LM continued screaming “Zeek is dead, my brother is dead,”!

It was too surreal. This wasn’t a prank call. I walked over my mother’s room, handed her the phone, and crouched down in my hallway rocking back and forth. I was hoping this was all a dream. I didn’t believe what I had just heard. They were wrong. Why would they say such things about my cousin that weren’t true?

My mother walked over to me with a somber look on her face, and said “Eartha, Zeek died a few hours ago in a car crash in Millcreek,”.

“No he didn’t, Ma,”. I said. “I just talked to him, and he said he wasn’t going anywhere,”.

“He said he wasn’t going anywhere,”. I repeated over and over again in that dark hallway rocking back and forth. “They were all liars,”. I thought.

 The next day came, and everything was a blur. I went over my grandparents’ house, and my grandmother finally convinced me of the unconceivable. She told me Zeek was gone, and for the first time I had to believe it.

My aunt’s house never looked so unpleasant. My mom and my grandparents pulled up in her driveway, and there were about twenty cars outside her house. It was the worst day of my life.

I walked in and said nothing. I ran straight up to Zeek’s room because I knew he was still alive. I looked around his black and gold Pittsburgh Steelers inspired bedroom, and looked for any sign of him. I smelled his clothes and I looked under his covers. “Zeek was here,”. I thought.

I collapsed in the middle of that room.  I was unable to understand what was going on. I had just spoken to my cousin.  I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye .How was this possible?

I cried. I cried, and I cried some more until my aunt B came to comfort me. She had just lost her son, yet here she was consoling me. You could see the hurt though her beige eyes, but she was strong.

“It’s okay, Eartha,”. She said as she swayed me back in forth.

She held me in her arms while I cried myself into oblivion. I was lost. I was only 15-years old, and he was only 16-years old. We were good kids. We didn’t deserve this. How could I ever recover?

“Maybe if I had of just gone over there yesterday things would have been different,”. I thought.

Everyone in my family was blindsided by such a tragedy. It was beyond the unexpected. My cousin LM and I comforted each other the best way we could. Zeek and her were basically twins because they were less than a year apart so I can’t imagine how she must have felt. We were both devastated.

I was furious with God. I had been told he was a merciful God, who loved us so much that he gave his only son, yet he had taken away my innocent cousin. Zeek was a good boy, and there were plenty of murderers and killers out here still breathing. Why wasn’t his life spared?

The funeral was a blur. My body lay limp as my mother held me in her arms in the pews. She gave me Benadryl to calm my nerves because I was on the verge of a heart attack it felt like.

I, somehow, managed to say a few words at my cousin’s funeral.

“I wanted him to come back, but I know that would have been the greatest injustice I could give my cousin,”. I said as I stood at the podium staring at hundreds of familiar and unfamiliar faces.

I can still remember the day vividly as I watched them lay the casket in the ground. I still can’t fathom the words to adequately describe the pain and anguish I felt.

All I could do was remember the days when we were younger. The baseball games I attended of his, the hide and go seek games we played in the background, us teasing each other and so many more. I remembered his smile. The way he spoke. How he walked. Every moment we ever spent together seemed to flash before my eyes at that moment.

Everyone in the city knew what happen, but I wanted people to know who Isiah ZeekThomas truly was. I wanted the world to know about the day he sang Boys II Men’s “Moma” to my aunt, and how he always had a way to make you feel good. He was my cousin, but he felt more like an angel. He possessed a heart of gold that I wish the world could have seen. He wasn’t your typical teenager. He was so much more.

I miss him dearly. I never really spoke to anyone about the tearful nights I spent trying to figure out what happened, and how I vowed to never forget him.

I would have never guessed that seven years ago I’d be having the last conversation with Zeek.  I would still give my last breath just to go back in time when we were kids in the back yard playing foolish games. I don’t know why God called him back home, but the Terrell/Thomas family will never be the same without him.

I remember you Zeek, I ‘ll never forget you, and until we meet again know that I love you!                                                                                                      Sincerely,

                                                                                                               Your cousin, Eartha

Mr. and Mrs. Pt.3 : $ Sold Your Soul

I thought I was prepared to start a war against Mrs., but I was all talk and no action. I didn’t do much more than make a few snide, yet clever, remarks via Myspace, roll my eyes, once or twice, when I saw her, and, of course, talk continuously about her inferiority.  I couldn’t stand her, but I didn’t hate her enough to engulf myself into a full-fledge campaign to take her down. I had a life to live, but I still cared about Mister. I was confused, dazed and caught in a world where I really had no significant place; after all, Mister had made that quite clear. However, our last conversation had incited an enormous amount of anger that I’d never seen in myself before.

Up until now my love affairs had been strategic. Never had I ever fallen prey to the usual peer gossip most of my friends had been exposed to, and even if I had, I rose above it. Somehow this situation was the exception. It was like everyone had bought tickets to watch my year-long demise, and occasionally add in their two-cents, which I never asked for, and for the first time their words cut like a knife slicing away my self esteem.

“I mean, Eartha got the body, but Mrs., looks better,” An unimportant spectator once said.

Yes, I heard it all. I recall being told to leave Mister and Mrs., alone and let them be,” by an acquaintance of mine. From the outside looking in I was the mistress. I was the female unwilling to accept the truth that Mister didn’t want me, had never wanted me, and for whatever reason, I just didn’t quite measure up to Mrs., in his eyes.

 What people didn’t see, or know is I wasn’t the mistress, nor was I some crazy girl unable to recognize defeat, but I had been fooled, and somehow gotten caught up in a web of lies, deception and unloyaly. No one saw the long letters from Mister of how sorry he was, the call records of late night intimate conversations, or the connection scented through the air when we spent time together. No one knew how I’d reached out to Mrs, who was also a childhood friend I’d thought I could trust. No one knew anything, yet somehow, their opinions had me standing in the middle of nowhere fighting for my reputation and a supposed love. Hell knew not the amount of fury boiling within me, and on a hot summer night in Youngstown I finally got the release I needed.

Friday Night

It was the night before my graduation party, and I wasn’t enthused about it at all. I didn’t really want to even have it, at this point, but it would all be over soon so I would just have to survive with coke and smile until it was over.

It was about 11 pm. Ce Ce, another friend, and I had been driving around the city all night with nothing to do, and nowhere to go (typical Friday night for teenagers in Youngstown). No one was trying to go home so I made a call.

“Hello,”. Mister said. His voice was groggy, and his sentences slurred, but I ignored it because I hadn’t heard his voice in months.

“What’s up?,”? I asked. “What you doin,”?

“Nothin. Where you at,”? He asked.

“I’m out and about,”. I said. “Where you at,”? I asked.

“I’m over my brother crib, come through,”. He said, and like the fool I was, I went.

Mister and I hadn’t talked for months, yet it was as if we never missed a step. I pulled up in to the address he’d given me , and he was already outside.

“Are you drunk,”? I asked.

His eyes were low; his movements were much slower than usual. And he had a sly look on his face  I was unfamiliar with.

“Are you drunk Mister,”? I asked for a second time.

“No,”. He replied. We both laughed at his blatant lie. I didn’t have much else to do so I had no problem with joining in on his game.

Ce Ce dropped me off, and said she would be right back to get me after she made a personal runoff her own. Everyone was into lying that I night I guess.

I sat on his porch, and we chatted.

“You look nice,”. He said.

I had just come from a party. I wore gold trimmed blue-jean Bermuda shorts, with a white halter top that tied around my waist. I had on gold and straw high-hell pumps with a brown bandana.  I wouldn’t have come by at all if I didn’t already know I was cute.

Thank you,”. I humbly replied.

We laughed and talked for about ten minutes when his phone rang. It was right by me, and he was half drunk so I figured why not answer it.

“Hello,”. I said.

The voice on the other end of the phone was a voice I’d never forget.

“Hello, can I speak to Mister,”? Mrs., asked in a meek tone.

“Yea hold up he’s right here next to me,”. I said. I purposely highlighted Mister’s proximity to me.

“What up,”? He said.“Naw, Eartha over here right now,”.

I didn’t have a shred of respect left for Mrs., but I knew even she wouldn’t stand for such lack of respect. I knew seconds later I would hear her screaming through the phone in a fit of rage for his complete lack of consideration. I knew she and her girls would probably meet me over here in seconds to finish this squabble for good, and I was kind of anticipating it. To my surprise, before I could finish my text to Ce Ce for back-up Mister had hung up the phone amicably with her like all was well in the world.

“Naw, I call you tomorrow. Eartha over here right now,”. Mister said.

I couldn’t believe my ears. I didn’t know whether to smack him, or applaud him for finding such a cooperative and spineless idiot. Hell, I should’ve slapped my damn self. I didn’t know what to do, so I just played it cool, and continued the conversation like he hadn’t just spoken with public enemy number one.

I had to help Mister get into the house. He was stumbling all over the place. I asked his brother how much he had to drink, and my inquiry was just met with a burst of laughter. Apparently, Mister had drunk so much he was banned from the liquor cabinet for the rest of the night.

“What have I gotten myself into,”? I thought.

We managed to get upstairs into a bedroom with a king sized bed. I laid on top of him, and we kissed for hours, while I tried to get a few questions in about his and Mrs., status.

“So, what’s up with y’all Mister,”? I asked. “Is she who you really want to be with,”?

“Who I’m with right now”? He asked, while placing his index finger on my lips to hush me.He was being allusive on purpose.

We laid there for hours, and talked. I didn’t think he would remember much, and honestly I was just happy to get this one night without dealing with reality. Like that Kelly Price song goes “You belong to me for just one night, as we slept the night away,… as we lay,”.

Saturday Night

 My graduation party wasn’t that bad. I actually had fun, and my friends support made it worthwhile. Mister had come to see me alluding to another night cap, and Ce Ce had her mother’s truck for the night so we could go to the festival. I was excited, and over joyed. Nothing was going to rain on my personal parade.

It was late, and Ce Ce, me and a few of our other friends packed her mother’s small burgundy four-seater, and headed home after the festival  when we  passed Mister’s house.

“Hey ain’t that the Mrs.’ car out front of Mister’s house,”? One of my friends asked.

I looked for myself, and that did look like her car.

CeCe pulled around and we parked next to it.

 To my astonishment not only was It was her car, but they were both sitting in it!!!!

“I called Mister to no avail, but he finally answered for CeCe(as if she wasn’t in the car with me).

“Ummm Mister, can you come out and talk real quick,”? She asked.

Seconds later he and I were face to face.

“What the fuck is wrong with yo ass,”? I asked. I pleaded with him, and I was determined to hold back the tears mounting in me, as an attempt to leach on to the thread of what dignity I had left.

“Did you forget I was just with you last night,”? I yelled.

He just looked at me with this stupid facial expression unable to create the slightest bit of an excuse.

I knew I wasn’t going to get much from him so I hopped back into the truck slamming the door behind me.

Humiliation describes the situation the most accurately. My mind was racing; I thought I had lost the war. My friends, will all their good intentions, advised me on going back to confront Mrs. I obliged.

We rushed back to Mister’s parking lot seconds later. I told Ce Ce to call Mister again, and tell Mrs. to get out of her car. I saw her walking towards the truck, and visions of me running her over clouded my mind. She walked with ease as if she had nothing to fear. I wanted to slap her, spit on her, beat her to smithereens, but due to this thing called class I simply got out the car, and used my wit.

“So yesterday you call him, and I answer the phone. He tells you that you can’t come over because I was over there, and that doesn’t bother you,”? I asked.

“We just talk we aren’t official,”. She said.

“Who gives a fuck if you are official or not,”! I screamed.

“He let another girl answer his phone, and y’all had plans to hang out, and he declined because I was over there,”. I said. “So this doesn’t piss you off,”?

“At first I didn’t know about y’all, but you did. He knew about the both of us, and you knew about me so I look unaware, he looks like a pimp so what do you think that makes you look like,”? I asked.

“STUDID, DUMB cough cough like an IDIOT,”. My friends added from the car while hysterically laughing.

“He asked me not to tell you, so I didn’t tell you,”. She said.

“Mrs, Ive known you since we were like 10-years-old, so when I asked you if y’all talked I thought he was trying to play us both, but you sittin up here lying for him,”. I said.

Mister stood there with his arms folded in between us like a referee. I watched as he allowed me to chew her out, and said nothing. One word from him actually saying who he was choosing could have ended this entire fiasco, but it seemed like he enjoyed it. In reality, I think he was only there to ensure I didn’t take my heel and pound it in her skull spilling blood all over his parent’s driveway.

“If he told you to jump off a cliff right now, would you do it,”? I asked.

“No,”. She said unaware of the rhetorical question I had just posed.

“You know what, you dun sold yo’ soul to the devil to get him, so you can have him,” I said.

I got back in the car after dropping an epic and poetic line as I left my heart shattered heart on that street. My friends were full of excitement praising me for handing Mrs.’, her ass to her on a platter she couldn’t refuse. They were  both dead wrong, but I would’ve traded her my moral high ground to be sitting in that car with Mister any day I heard my friend’s voices, but the sound of my pain pounding through my soul like snare drums drowned out their words . I didn’t need any other confirmation of the inevitable. Mister had made his decision a long time ago.

The next day I was got on Myspace to delete Mister as a friend. It was a small step to deleting him from my life completely. I looked at my messages, and there was his picture with the subject that read “Can we still be friends,”?

Mr. and Mrs. Pt. 2: Dressed in insanity

My older cousin was a psychology major at Wright State University. I loved asking her about human behavior. She the closest thing I had to an expert and she willingly indulged in my random and slightly ignorant inquiries. On one of our many trips along  route 71 north we got on the subject of insanity.

“Lay, how do you know when a person is insane,”? I asked.

“Insanity is the act of doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results,”. She said,

I was stunned. I expected a more poetic answer.  I expected to hear something convoluted and mysterious. I didn’t predict I’d hear such simple words. It made me think about all the crazies I’d probably passed walking down the street. More importantly, it made me think “Damn I’m insane,”.

For the past year and a half I had run into the same wall with Mister and his Mrs., yet every time I got the same unfavorable outcome it was like it was zapped out of my memory completely, and I was prepared to hit the same wall even harder. No matter how many times I was disrespected, disregarded and humiliated I was never deterred me from whatever goal I was trying to achieve. I was eloquently dressed in the most beautiful insane couture gown paid in full by my own yearning heart.

I was headed back from Atlanta from my month-long vacation, and I was eager to see Mister. We never completely lost contact, and after reading the card he had left on my porch a month ago ,a hundred times, I had fallen for him all over again. I was able to hold in my emotions for him for over a year, but I had to tell him how I felt. I thought that since Mrs. was in the picture too much was at stake. Telling him the truth would be enough to get him to toss her aside like yesterday’s garbage, and everything would be back to normal, so I did what any 18-year-old would when they are trying to fight for love. The day before I left Atlanta I sent him a Myspace message.

Mister I’m sorry I never told this before because I have been feeling like this for a long time, but I love you. I always have. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to scare you off, and I figured we were too young to be in love anyways. I didn’t want to believe it, but it’s the truth.

I hesitated before sending it. I loved him, or so I thought. He needed to know, but was it too late. Should I have told him earlier? It took me about ten minutes, but I decided win or lose I was true to myself to the end.

The ride back home seemed extra long, and everything from the trees to my seat belt seemed to remind me of Mister. I felt like I had gone into a time warp and everything was moving in slow motion.

After a trip full of butterflies, anticipation and worry I finally got to a computer. I was scared. I clicked on my messages and saw a message from him that simply read “I’m gone call you,”.

I was ecstatic. Mister was going to call me so that meant everything would be good, even though, I had just witnessed numerous photos of Mister and Mrs. showcasing their every move. There was a whole album dedicated to their time spent together. There were pictures of them at parties, holding hands, etc. Seeing these pictures reminded me of a situation between the three of us that occurred just two months ago that I , so desperately, had tried to forget.

2 months earlier

  It was a normal Saturday night basement party, and everyone who was a part of the  “In Crowd” was in attendance. I was on the phone with Mister, who was already at the party, and he was waiting on me.

“I’m on my way dude,”. I yelled through the phone trying to compete with the base from speakers.

“Where you coming from,”? Mister asked.

“I don’t know. You know I ain’t good with directions, but we pulling up now,”. I said.

I don’t know how, but we got disconnected as I walked across the street into the party. I didn’t call back because I was about to see him anyways. I walked into the party maneuvering through the dark crowd full of rump-shacking teenagers, but I couldn’t find Mister. I tried calling, and got no answer.

“Aye, you seen Mister,”? I asked any and everyone.

I was about to just give up, and join the rump-shacking of my peers when I looked in the corner. What I saw will be forever carved into my memory. He was sitting on white clothes dryer hovered over her, but gripping her tiny waist. She was standing in between his legs holding him tightly as if they were the last on the Titanic just before it submerged under the ocean. They sat there oblivious to me standing less than a foot away getting front row seats while they played tongue twister.

I could feel the blood surging through my veins, and my heart rate pulsating through my body. It was right in front of my face, yet my vision and my consciousness were disconnected.

“How could this be happening just after seconds of him talking to me,”? I thought.

I didn’t talk to anyone. I didn’t tell my friends. I walked up the stairs and sat, alone, in the kitchen until the party was over.  I wasn’t ready to deal with what I had just witnessed. I couldn’t move.

I was nervous. I sat in my room anticipating his call, while the feelings of the basement party lingered in my soul like I was right back there all over again. I was helpless. I didn’t want to let him go, but I didn’t want to be a fool either. Clearly he was still talking with her, and clearly they were engaging in an intimate relationship that they deemed worthy enough to put all over the internet for the world to see, including me. My mind was in a whirlwind. My heart and head were in a battle, and rational thoughts were losing. I thought I could change the situation. He said he would call so that meant he was about to apologize, and make amends. After tonight Mrs. would be out of the picture, and he would demand that she take every single picture down from her Myspace page because Eartha was in town.

My thoughts were interrupted by my Trey Songz ringtone “I can’t help, but wait.”. It was Mister.

“What’s up,”? He asked.

“Nothing just chillin, and laying down,”. I said.

He got right to business.

“So why didn’t you tell me this earlier,”? He asked.

“Because I was scared. I didn’t want to look all thirsty for you,”. I said.

“You know what,”? He said. “I love you too,”.

I didn’t need a mirror to see myself smiling from ear to ear. I felt special. Somehow the same guy that had took my heart and demolished it into thin air was magically rebuilding it piece by piece, but within seconds I was back to ground zero after his next statement.

“I wish you would’ve told me sooner because I love Mrs. too,”. He said.

“What the hell was this,”? I thought.

Here I am finally expressing my feelings, and he tells me he is in love with another female too. “Is that even possible,”? I asked.

“I don’t know. I just am,”. He replied.

I was flyer than her. I was more popular, I believed, than her, and I know I was smarter. We had history together so this decision should have been easy for him.

“I want to still talk to the both of y’all,”. He said.

Now any sane person that shows any inclination they may own brain cells would have immediately said Adios, but ,as I mentioned previously I was insane, because at that moment instead of walking away, and dealing with the harsh truth that he was choosing, I shifted every bit of energy I had to destroying Mrs.

Part 3 coming soon!!!!