Nervous

“Hey, you!” I called out to him as I stood up on the balcony so he could see me.

He looked up just as he was hitting the keyless entry button on his key chain to unlock a black Mercedes SLK 320. “Yes?” he asked.

I didn’t say anything. I just ripped off Jon’s pajama top, followed by her bra. Then I stepped out of the pants and underwear. I stood there naked, just staring at him seductively. Then I closed my eyes and started swaying my hips to imaginary music and palming my breasts. I heard the beep again as he locked the car, followed by his footsteps coming back up the walkway toward the building. The shit was just that easy.

31

jonquinette

I hesitated before I knocked on Momma’s door. I had no idea how I would break the news but it had to come out. I needed her, more than ever.

She saved me the trouble of knocking when she suddenly swung the door of her condo open. She was startled and slapped her right hand across her chest.

“Hello, Momma,” I said, faking a smile.

She took a deep breath and sighed. “Jonquinette. What a pleasant surprise.”

“You really mean that?”

“Yes, of course I mean it. I was on my way out to the store but come on in.” She turned and walked back into her place, leaving the door ajar for me to follow her. “In fact, I’ve been getting frustrated because you haven’t returned any of my calls.”

It was true that she had left several phone messages, both at home and at work, but I just couldn’t bring myself to call her. Dealing with the drama from Darnetta and Mason had been bad enough and I didn’t think I could deal with a lot of drama from Momma.

“I’m sorry,” I told her. “I was out of town for a while and then when I got back, some things happened.”

Momma eyed me suspiciously. “What sort of things?”

“Can I sit down?” I asked as I walked into the living room. Her place was immaculate as always. I was hoping I wouldn’t catch her at a bad time, with a man in the house, and it appeared that I had lucked out.

“Jonquinette, stop acting like you’re some sort of stranger.” Momma laughed. “Of course you can sit down. My home is your home.”

I plopped down on the sofa and she took a seat in the armchair directly across from it. “What if I am a stranger?” I asked her.

She leaned her head to the side in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“I said, what if I am a stranger?”

Momma seemed irritated. “You’re not making any sense. You’re my daughter. I gave birth to you, so how could you possibly be a stranger?”

I picked up a photo frame off her end table. It was a picture of the two of us at my college graduation. In retrospect, I guess it was a picture of the three of us. Momma didn’t say another word to me. A heavy silence just hung in the air like thick smoke.

“I live inside this body and I feel like I’m a stranger,” I finally said.

She laughed again, this time uneasily. “You must be overheated. You’re acting delirious.” She got up from her seat and started walking away. “Let me go into the kitchen and get you something cold to drink. I made some freshly squeezed lemonade, your favorite.”

I tossed the picture onto the sofa cushion, jumped up, and grabbed her by the elbow. “Momma, lemonade isn’t going to cure this.”

“Cure what?” she snapped at me.

“My illness.” We stared at each other while I searched for the words to say. “Momma, did you never figure it out or did you just choose to ignore it?”

She yanked her arm away in anger. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She took off toward the kitchen anyway and I was right on her tail. I refused to let her walk away from the situation. “I won’t cut any corners with this. Momma, I have MPD.”

Momma took two glasses out of the dishwater and started to get an ice tray from the freezer. She paused and asked, “MPD? What the hell is that? Some sort of venereal disease?”

“No, Momma. MPD stands for Multiple Personality Disorder.”