In Due Season, by Ebony Elizabeth Thomas
(The following excerpt was taken from the chapter, "For Old Time’s Sake".
Setting: March 1997, Atlanta.)
(The following excerpt was taken from the chapter, "For Old Time’s Sake".
Setting: March 1997, Atlanta.)
Rochelle came home when I was in the middle of setting up to do Cherie's hair. Humming and cooing into the kitchen, she plopped down into a chair and rested her chin in her small hands.
"What you doing?"
"Getting ready to have a customer over."
"Oh. Guess where I've been."
I shrugged. "I don't know."
"Ring shopping."
I put down the iron I had been wiping off abruptly. "What? You're engaged?" "Not yet. We had a teachers' comp day and Jackson. I made Q meet me for lunch. We went to the mall, and he took me right to Sterling Jewelers'. Asked me, `if you could pick any ring in the store, which one would it be?' Now tell me, what bigger hint do I need?"
I went back to what I was doing. "Sterling Jewelers is not Q's style. Not that there's anything wrong with Sterling's. Reg got my birthday present from there…"
"Of course he wouldn't get it from Sterling's," Rochelle huffed. "He probably wanted to see what design I wanted."
"Usually he's more subtle than that," I said wisely. I'd known Quentin Rice for a very, very long time.
"No need to be jealous," she tossed back. "Oh, I wanted to let you know to start looking for a roommate."
I shot a glance back at her. "What's going on?"
"I'm moving in with him and Mack."
"Are you?" I heard my mother saying, "Why buy the cow when you can have the milk for free?" I'd never moved in with any of my boyfriends. Men take too much for granted as it is.
"I'm over there almost every night anyway."
"I thought you liked your independence, Ro."
She came over to pat me on the shoulder. "One day, you'll understand."
"Maybe," I shrugged. I didn't think so.
"Well, sweetie, I'd love to stay and chat. But I have to go start packing. I figure I should be all moved out in a couple weeks if I take some with me every night."
"You've got to be kidding. What about April's rent?"
She popped her lips. "You still owe me for March, Nicole. Use the money you were going to pay me back with, and I'll consider it even."
Silly witch. That's all right. Hers was coming, and soon. "That'll be fine," I said through clenched teeth, wanting to choke her.
She pranced out of the kitchen. The doorbell rang. I went to let Cherie in. She'd changed into a white top with an argyle print and jeans. Her hair was in a silk scarf.
"Great! You're all set up. I can't wait for you to get your hands on this mess."
At the idea of Cherie's hair being "mess", I rolled my eyes. I led her into the kitchen. "You have any idea of what you want done, or can I have free license?"
"Let's see... I'm not going to Azusa for another month, but I was thinking I wanted a little color. Remember when you dyed it auburn in the fall of `93, and highlighted it with that magenta stuff in `95 for the cover of The Rose and the Lily? Do something creative like that. Did I tell you `I like your hair' at the party?"
"Several times, Cher." I coaxed her to sit down, then took the scarf off her head. Her hair was up in a rubber band... how many times had I told her about that? It splits the ends and causes breakage. "You want a cut?"
She undid her tightly braided ponytail loop. "I want to keep most of the length this time. Ever since I cut my hair four years ago, I've been scissor happy."
Unbraiding, I assessed her hair. It was in pretty good condition, and fell to the small of her back. "You trying to grow it waist length again, or can I take off an inch or two? And how conservative do I have to be?"
"Do what you feel."
I had just the style in mind. She never needed a relaxer, so it wouldn't take as long. I'd seen the color effect I wanted at a hair show in Detroit at Christmas, but never had the chance to try it out.
Rochelle came in as I was applying the permanent gold tint to strands of Cherie's hair using a special cap. She didn't notice us at first, just started opening and closing cupboards in search of something.
"Nicole, I can't find my twist ties. Have you seen..." She trailed off as she spotted Cherie. "Oh, hey, Josephine! Girl, what's been up with you?"
"A lot. God's been good."
"Well, just praise Him!" Rochelle said mockingly, plopping her butt down in a kitchen chair.
"That's exactly what I love to do. What about you?"
"I'm good. I finished my master's last year and just applied for an assistant principalship. Did you ever get your bachelor's?" Which was mean, because Cherie had gotten so sick during her last semester she couldn't graduate when she'd intended.
"As a matter of fact, I did. I graduated from Clark Atlanta in the summer of `94, and last December I became an ordained minister."
"So now you're officially `Reverend' now. How cute. After the deals I've been told you swing on a regular basis, I would have thought you'd have gotten an MBA."
Cherie laughed, which she usually does whenever someone is being overtly nasty. "What good will another degree do me? God has three hundred and sixty degrees, and then some. As long as I'm hearing from Him, my business decisions will be sound."
"Isn't that nice. I've been following your career as an old friend. Is it true that Arista offered you a three record deal to cross over into pop, and that you were considering it?"
"A rumor. Don't believe everything you hear, Rochelle."
"Oh. So I shouldn't believe that you haven't been dating seriously for the past three years?"
"Like I said, don't believe everything you hear."
Rochelle leaned forward with narrowed eyes. "Nothing gets to you, does it? Little Miss Perfect. I wonder what would happen if your oh-so-holy peers and fans learned about some of the skeletons in your closet. Would they think you were so angelic then?"
"Look, trick, you got about five seconds to get out this kitchen and go on about your business," I snapped. "I told you about this sh-- the other night!"
"Nikki," Cherie protested with a little shake of her head.
"Girl, if you don’t keep this head still... and Ro, on second thought, keep your a-- right there. We’re gonna get this all out in the open right now."
"Whatever. I ain’t got sh—to say to this b----…"
"That is just fine with me, hon…"
"Both of you, shut the hell up. Personally, I’m sick of it. Y’all used to be tight. Now you’re enemies. And over what? Come on!"
"She’s not my enemy," Cherie shrugged. "I just pray for her."
"Cherie. You got one more time to move your head," I interjected calmly.
Calm is not a word I’d use to describe Rochelle at that point. "See! That’s exactly what I’m talking about! She always did act like she was too good for something… and Josephine, you need to keep the prayers for your damn self. Least I ain’t jonesing for my cousin."
"Nikki, can you put me in a plastic cap so I can rinse this out at my house? I am so not in the mood for this…"
Finished putting the color in, I was ready to regulate.
"No. I want you to stop avoiding sh--, Cherie. Did you ever confront her about what you saw Valentine’s Day `94? Did you tell her that you were tripping off the fact that she was kickin’ it with your ex almost before you were out the way? Did you tell her how you felt when she kept Q away from the hospital when both you and your baby were in serious trouble? And you better not sit up here and tell me that you didn’t care.
"And Rochelle, stop raising hell. You’re on a serious guilt trip, cause you know you’re wrong. Yeah, the past is the past. But the fact remains that in the beginning, Cherie was your friend and Q was her man. That was some low down dirty sh-- that you pulled and you know it. Everybody knows that Q is yours now. You don’t need to flaunt it."
Rochelle stared at me.
Cherie was silent.
Then Rochelle jumped up. "Of course you would be on this b----'s side. You all got history and sh--. That’s all right. I’m about to be up out of here anyway. At least I got something to look forward to tonight." She got up and stood right in front of Cherie’s chair. "All ten inches of it." Pause. "Bye now."
I glared at her as she left. "I remember your aunt used to always say, `You never know somebody unless you live with `em.’ Honey, Rosemary Petion never lied."
"Rochelle Curry did with her ‘ten inches’," Cherie said with a secret smile, then quickly sobered up. "Thanks, Nik. For reading both of us."
"Girl, what’s a friend for?"
I had her stand up so I could pull the chair toward the sink. "Nikki?"
"Yeah, babe?"
"Now that she’s moving out, what are you going to do?"
"Well, I need a roommate like yesterday. I’m still not ‘gainfully employed’, as my mama puts it, and I have to come up with mucho dinero by the first."
"What about Reg?"
"Cherie, how long have you been knowing me? Reg is not my ATM. I mean, I considered asking him for the money last night. But Reggie would try to use this as an opportunity to force me to move in with him. And I am not about to shack. My hands are tied, though. I admit it."
"How much are you talking?"
"Seven hundred and fifty. Cher, I’d pay you right back soon as I could."
"Nikki, shut up. You are my sister. Consider it a belated birthday gift… or the price for this tight hairstyle you’re about to whip up on my head."
"Shoot. Wish I could do some more of these $750 hairstyles. You gonna hook me up?"
While I did her hair, we sat and talked the way that long-time female friends do. I told her all about Reg. She told me about A Chord’s last tour. Sure, there were some awkward places in the conversation when she would go on and on about God, or when I would get down to the nitty-gritty about my life. But overall, I’d say it was a heart to heart.
After I was done, we heated up two-days old Chinese and reminisced over a tape that I’d made back in the day. Keith Sweat. New Edition. Christopher Williams. Freddie Jackson…
"We’ve only been out of high school seven years, Cherie. Doesn’t it seem longer than that?"
"Yeah, I know. It seems like I’ve lived a lifetime in just the past five." She looked at the time. "Quarter to nine. I guess Reg’ll be here soon."
"That’s right."
"You guys are really getting serious, aren’t you?"
"I think so, Cherie. For the first time in my life, I think I might be in love."
She smiled. "Then be happy, my dear."
"Thanks, Grandma Josephine. Your time is coming, though. Sooner than you think. You know all you have to do is say the word, and Mr. Minister Claude’ll race you to the altar…"
"I’m not holding my breath." She picked her keys and Coach bag. "I can have the cash for you tomorrow, or just write a check now…"
"Check, please. I’ll give you the money I have on hand now, and then give you the rest after I’ve cashed these birthday checks. I’ve gotten into a little trouble at the credit union… had to write a couple of rubber checks…"
"Nicole Sydney Ferguson, you better not ever do that again as long as you live and know where I am."
"I’m not your charity case."
"It’s not even about that. Do you think I’ve forgotten everything you’ve done for me over the years? After everything we’ve been through…" She was pulling her checkbook out of her purse. Opening it, she scribbled my name on the "pay to the order of" line, added the next day’s date, and signed it. "Here."
I stared at it, tears filling my eyes. "Cherie, this is unnecessary."
"No, it’s not. You’re so worried about this rent that you've forgotten that you have other bills. Do you have money for your lights, car note, or groceries?" I shook my head. "Case closed. Keep your birthday money, and don’t worry about when you’ll be able to get it back to me."
We both stood up. Not saying anything, we headed toward the door.
All of a sudden, she hugged me and whispered, "This one’s for old time’s sake, my sister. I love you. God loves you, and He’ll always make a way if you just let him into your life."
That’s when I really started crying.
Reg was a little late. All right, he was a whole lot late. It was after eleven by the time he sauntered into my house. I was pissed, and was ready to let him know.
"I paged you three times. Haven’t you ever heard of a phone?"
"Don’t start, Nicole." His speech was a little slurred. I was concerned and rushed over to take his coat.
"What’s wrong?"
He shook his head. Shrugging off my embrace, he laid down across the couch. I sat down on the leather arm.
"Reginald, baby, talk to me. Is everything okay with your family? Your mother’s not sick again, is she?"
No response.
"Your sister begging you for money again?"
"Family’s all right."
I sighed. "Reg, why don’t you just quit this job? You don’t have to put up with this."
He sat up abruptly. "Yeah, I do. You know what I learned today? You can’t trust anybody but yourself."
I pressed a kiss on his lips. "You can trust me."
"Mm-hmm. Anyway, you remember that brother I told you I was supposed to meet with on your birthday? I actually had lunch with him last week. Thought I could trust him, and said more than I should have about our boss and the powers that be. Well, this morning Steve Rosen called me into his office and told me what I said at that lunch meeting verbatim. He said that everyone knew about it, and word is I’m supposed to be getting the pink slip before the end of the month."
"Oh, my God. Well, you can always find another job…"
"Where, Nicole? Who the f--- is going to hire me when I have to list St. Luke’s Hospital as one of my references?"
"Maybe they won’t fire you, baby. That’s just hearsay."
"Steve has the boss’ ear. He was at the meeting when ‘brotherman’ relayed that sh--. My boss got embarrassed in front of the entire executive board. There’s no way in the world he’s going to give me another chance. Steve tried to talk to him, but he wasn’t trying to hear it."
"Sounds like this Steve guy would have been a better mentor. That’s what I always tell people. Just because someone’s black, doesn’t mean they have your best interests at heart…"
"Oh, so now you have all the knowledge, don’t you, Nicole? Shut the f--- up. You can’t tell me sh--. Not when you ain’t got no job and living off your roommate."
I almost hit him. "Don’t you tell me to shut up. Don’t you take this out on me. I got enough problems as it is, with Rochelle moving out in the middle of my job search…" Oh, no. I did not mean for that to get out.
"Rochelle’s moving out? When were you going to tell me?"
"I just found out today."
"So, when are you going to leave?"
"I’m not going anywhere. I’ll just get someone else to move in with me."
The scowl on his face disappeared. A seductive look replaced it. "Why don’t you let me move in?"
"No," I said firmly.
"Then I’ll have to convince you."
"I’d like to see you try… whoa!" For he had pulled me down onto the couch. Pretty soon, the frown on my face was all gone. His kisses reminded me of rain… nourishing, refreshing, and a little sad.
"What’s this?" he asked, reaching down to retrieve a piece of paper that had dropped from the coffeetable during our horseplay. It took me a couple of seconds to recognize it, but when I did, I tried to snatch it out of his hands.
"Give me that!"
"A blank check? No wonder you aren’t trying to have me move in. You got your own little bank. What’d you tell that woman? You were destitute? Why would she do this for you?"
"Stay out of my business." The check was still out of my reach.
"What did I tell you? If you need money, you come to me!"
"Reg, give it here!"
I finally grabbed for it. But he was still holding on tight. The ivory slip ripped, and I ended up with about a third of it.
He shrugged. "Oops. So much for that little plan." Balling up the other two-thirds, he threw it in my face.
That was it. I slapped him as hard as I could.
What happened next shocked me, because I didn’t see it coming.
The next thing I knew, I was on the floor. Holding my throbbing left temple and cheek in my hand. In shock. My bubble had burst in mid-air, and I felt my heart shattering into a million tiny pieces.
"Oh, baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you that hard. I was trying to get you off of me. You were getting so angry. See, now you’ve come to your senses. Come here."
He says he’s sorry. After all, I did hit him first… and he’s tired. From somewhere far away, I felt him cradle me in his arms, attempt to erase the pain he’d caused with his touch, then his body. But inside I was crying, this time not from happiness, but from sorrow. For the first time in our relationship, I just wasn’t there with him.
After he was asleep, I stole away to the bathroom. His fist had left a bluish black imprint on my sand colored skin. I reached for my makeup case, and smoothed foundation on. This’ll work. No one will be able to tell. Satisfied, I cleaned it off carefully and returned to bed to devise my plan. In the morning, I would tell him he could move in. If Cherie noticed the money wasn’t gone and asked about it, I’d tell her that my mother decided to help out after all. Or that I underestimated the amount of money I had after all. Anything but the truth.
Reginald and Nicole. The perfect couple. At least, that’s what everyone thought. That’s what I wanted them to think. That’s what I had believed until tonight.
My only fear was that one day that stranger in Roberta Flack’s song would somehow find out, and expose my dark secret over the strains of a guitar in a smoke-filled lounge…
Killing me softly.
