his own head. And two lives are lost over something that’s hardly ever worth it.
That’s
depression. That’s scary.”
Vette gives me a concerned look.
“So, Anya. You’d never go that route with Neil? I mean, he’s my brother and all but…”
“You don’t even have to ask. I have a mouth that I don’t mind using. And that’s about the most violent I can see myself getting. No man is worth going to prison over. Not a one.”
“Not Brian McKnight?” She grins.
“Not even super-fine Brian McKnight.”
Vette and I pick up Reesy from my mom’s, jump back in the car, and head home.
“Did anybody call me?” my daughter yells to anyone who’ll listen.
“I don’t know, silly,” Vette tells her. “We were at the mall, not at home, so how would we know?”
“I’m talkin’ ’bout on the cell phone.”
Vette just stares at me. I shake my head and wonder if it was my genes or Neil’s that make my daughter act this way.
When we arrive at the house, I park in the driveway and notice my neighbors little Tamika Dobson and her mother, Riley. I wave hello to Riley as Vette and Reesy head into the house.
“Hey, hon.” Riley waves. “How ya doing? How’s the hubby?”
Riley always has a genuine smile and is one of the more friendly neighbors on Chatham Island Lane, a street on the southwest side of town. As usual, Riley looks hot. She’s the kind of woman men stop and stare at for as long as possible. Riley has googobs of cleavage and doesn’t mind showing it. Her wrists dangle with silver bracelets, and she loves to douse her entire body with tantalizing fragrances. Vette calls Riley Lil’ Kim behind her back.
“How’s Jamal?” I ask. I hope she doesn’t notice I ignored her question about Neil.
“Oh, hon, he’s tripping as usual.”
“What he do?”
“Umm, he snuck in another pair of pants, some of his nasty underwear, house slippers, and a DVD player, like I wouldn’t notice all his things lying around the house. And Jamal thinks I’m blind, but I know he’s taken over an entire dresser drawer.” She waves her arms back and forth. A half-dozen bracelets ring together like wind chimes.
“Why don’t you just tell him to stop bringing his stuff over?”
“I have, but he don’t listen to me. He’s coming in here all of a sudden trying to play Daddy to Mika. I’m like, ‘Cool, you wanna be down now, but you weren’t hanging around when I was living in that funky roach apartment on the southeast side.’ He just wants to be here ’cause it’s finally sunk in I can make it on my own, no ring on my finger, and without his last name attached. Now he attempts to block other men from being in my life. I tell him, ‘Look, Jamal Gibson, your name ain’t on the mortgage, so I can let any man over here I want.’”
“Go, girl.” I snap my fingers. “And what he say to that?”
“He tells me unless it’s my daddy, he’d bet not catch a man over here, acting like he don’t want our daughter to be around any and everybody.”
“Well, that’s
kind
of admirable,” I tell her.
“It’s not admirable, it’s sickening. That belief has never stopped
Jamal
from creeping around and being with a dozen other hoebags with all they kids by other men. It makes no sense to me, Anya. I’m about to kick his ass out.” She sounds serious, like she’s been contemplating this decision for a while.
“Jamal has his own key?”
Her eyes enlarge. “But I didn’t give it to him. He stole the dupe. And I thought I hid it good. Makes me so mad. He talkin’ ’bout he ain’t got no place to stay ’cause his baby brother getting married. That’s a damned lie. It’s just so wrong.”
“Where is he right now?”
“He probably be back soon with his horny ass, wanting to do a hit-and-run. I ain’t got time for these quickies he likes to pull. I’m telling you, Ms. Anya…”
I sigh and rub Riley’s shoulder. I guess after so many group therapy sessions,
That’s
depression. That’s scary.”
Vette gives me a concerned look.
“So, Anya. You’d never go that route with Neil? I mean, he’s my brother and all but…”
“You don’t even have to ask. I have a mouth that I don’t mind using. And that’s about the most violent I can see myself getting. No man is worth going to prison over. Not a one.”
“Not Brian McKnight?” She grins.
“Not even super-fine Brian McKnight.”
Vette and I pick up Reesy from my mom’s, jump back in the car, and head home.
“Did anybody call me?” my daughter yells to anyone who’ll listen.
“I don’t know, silly,” Vette tells her. “We were at the mall, not at home, so how would we know?”
“I’m talkin’ ’bout on the cell phone.”
Vette just stares at me. I shake my head and wonder if it was my genes or Neil’s that make my daughter act this way.
When we arrive at the house, I park in the driveway and notice my neighbors little Tamika Dobson and her mother, Riley. I wave hello to Riley as Vette and Reesy head into the house.
“Hey, hon.” Riley waves. “How ya doing? How’s the hubby?”
Riley always has a genuine smile and is one of the more friendly neighbors on Chatham Island Lane, a street on the southwest side of town. As usual, Riley looks hot. She’s the kind of woman men stop and stare at for as long as possible. Riley has googobs of cleavage and doesn’t mind showing it. Her wrists dangle with silver bracelets, and she loves to douse her entire body with tantalizing fragrances. Vette calls Riley Lil’ Kim behind her back.
“How’s Jamal?” I ask. I hope she doesn’t notice I ignored her question about Neil.
“Oh, hon, he’s tripping as usual.”
“What he do?”
“Umm, he snuck in another pair of pants, some of his nasty underwear, house slippers, and a DVD player, like I wouldn’t notice all his things lying around the house. And Jamal thinks I’m blind, but I know he’s taken over an entire dresser drawer.” She waves her arms back and forth. A half-dozen bracelets ring together like wind chimes.
“Why don’t you just tell him to stop bringing his stuff over?”
“I have, but he don’t listen to me. He’s coming in here all of a sudden trying to play Daddy to Mika. I’m like, ‘Cool, you wanna be down now, but you weren’t hanging around when I was living in that funky roach apartment on the southeast side.’ He just wants to be here ’cause it’s finally sunk in I can make it on my own, no ring on my finger, and without his last name attached. Now he attempts to block other men from being in my life. I tell him, ‘Look, Jamal Gibson, your name ain’t on the mortgage, so I can let any man over here I want.’”
“Go, girl.” I snap my fingers. “And what he say to that?”
“He tells me unless it’s my daddy, he’d bet not catch a man over here, acting like he don’t want our daughter to be around any and everybody.”
“Well, that’s
kind
of admirable,” I tell her.
“It’s not admirable, it’s sickening. That belief has never stopped
Jamal
from creeping around and being with a dozen other hoebags with all they kids by other men. It makes no sense to me, Anya. I’m about to kick his ass out.” She sounds serious, like she’s been contemplating this decision for a while.
“Jamal has his own key?”
Her eyes enlarge. “But I didn’t give it to him. He stole the dupe. And I thought I hid it good. Makes me so mad. He talkin’ ’bout he ain’t got no place to stay ’cause his baby brother getting married. That’s a damned lie. It’s just so wrong.”
“Where is he right now?”
“He probably be back soon with his horny ass, wanting to do a hit-and-run. I ain’t got time for these quickies he likes to pull. I’m telling you, Ms. Anya…”
I sigh and rub Riley’s shoulder. I guess after so many group therapy sessions,
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