Should Have Known Better

“Look, I don’t want to sound like some kind of evil sociopath. I am all for disclosure, but the truth is that men like Reginald are gone,” Sasha explained. “They just don’t want to get married anymore. They want to play around. They want to love you. But the responsibility that comes with marriage just isn’t something they desire. I get that. But I need to do what’s best for me. I’m not getting any younger.” She flicked at her breasts as some sort of example, but they looked pretty firm and high to me. “Implants,” she whispered.

I looked at her boobs again with my mouth aghast.

“Really?” I mouthed.

“Really,” she mouthed back.

I shook my head and forced myself to look away from her breasts.

“But what about the ones who are marrying?”

“Please; they’re either weak and depending on the woman for whatever reason, on the down low and hoping to hide, or expectant fathers—let’s hope mine is the latter,” Sasha joked.

“Sounds like you have it all figured out,” I resigned.

“I’m not expecting anything from anyone. I make enough to support me and my child. He can dip if he wants.”

Short on rational things to say, I smiled and replied, “Well, I’m sure looking like you do, you’ll find one to stay in no time.” I tossed one of the blond curls hanging lazily from Sasha’s head back behind her ear.

“Oh, yes, Blondy catches them every time,” Sasha said.

“Blondy?”

“Yeah, my wig. Men love it.” She pulled the wig off and showed off a head of tight black nappy curls that hardly stretched beyond the tips of her ears.

I actually gasped, remembering how many times I’d looked at and studied and envied those curls when I saw Sasha on television.

“It’s a wig?” I quizzed, amazed. “A wig?”

“Yes, a lacefront. Cost me $7,000. Some white girl in Cali cut off all of her hair for me.”

“That’s a lot of money.” I fingered the thing on the bed between us. It looked something like a blond Yorkie or cocker spaniel.

“And well worth it,” Sasha said. “If a nice car is a chick magnet, Blondy is a dick magnet.”

I don’t know when I decided to go back to my bedroom after sharing my grandmother’s quilt and two bottles of dark red wine with Sasha, but I did. My feet were ripened watermelons. My head was a pumpkin ready to be plucked from a patch. Everything on me felt heavy and weighted. And every step I took beyond the last brought me closer to sleeping on the cold hallway tile—funny how cold floors look so comforting when you’re inebriated.

I nearly fell into the bedroom door instead of pushing it open with my hand. What was right in front of me wasn’t quite as close as I’d thought and when I tried to straighten up and consider that maybe the doorknob was farther away, it was two inches closer.

“Ouch,” I groaned, hitting my hand against the space above the doorknob and then cracking my forehead on the wood when

I tried to console my aching thumb. “Shit!”

Embarrassed by the sound of myself cursing so loudly in the middle of the night, I looked around for witnesses and then laughed at my suspicions.

“Who’s out here, Dawn?” I joked with myself. “No one! No . . . one!”

I finally managed to get ahold of the doorknob and attempted to sober up before walking into the bedroom.

“Get it together, Dawn,” I scolded myself firmly before turning the knob and opening the bedroom door just a little to see if Reginald was still asleep.

In a flash, I saw that the bedroom was dark, but the television was on. I didn’t look directly at the screen. It was hanging on the door beside the wall. But I heard Sasha’s voice and saw the colorful lights patterned on the bed.

Beneath the mosaic reflecting onto our comforter, I saw Reginald’s eyes wide open. The comforter was up to his neck. Something that looked like a teepee was erected near his midsection. I was quiet for a second, listening to Sasha’s voice and watching the top of the teepee rise and settle.

I thought to say something; I don’t really recall what it was, but just the idea of shaping my drunken thoughts into a sentence made me stumble and fall into the cracked doorway.

Reginald was obviously surprised and he shot up quickly like the bed had turned to fire.