Before I could put the dog down and jump on her, she turned and walked away, looking as calm and collected as she had when I’d first laid eyes on her.
I wanted to throw something at her: a rock, some scissors, darts, some of Pookie’s shit. But I was standing there stunned, flabbergasted, aghast. Hell, I thought women like that only existed on television. I needed backup quick.
Julian didn’t speak to me the entire walk back to my place. We stopped at a little grocery store to pick up some dog food, but that was the extent of our conversation. I was beginning
to feel like I’d made a huge mistake, walking up on him in the park like that. I mean, I didn’t know if they were dating or what. All I had on him was a shared ice cream cone. Miata had made it clear that she knew he had a girlfriend. She didn’t look even a little bit surprised when I said I was his girlfriend. Maybe I was wrong; maybe I was being childish and risked losing him altogether.
I slipped my key in the door when we got back to my place and just as I was about to apologize for my little stunt, Julian grabbed my arm.
“Don’t go in,” he said, pulling my arm away from the door. “I have to talk about this first.”
“Okay,” I answered, certain he was about to break up with me.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Julian looked into my eyes and I could tell he was sincere. For the first time since we’d left the park, I looked at his face and noticed that his eyes were red. “I would never hurt you and I’m just mad you had to find out about her like this.”
“Who is she, Julian?”
“I did meet her at the hospital, like I said.” Julian took a deep breath and put his hands in his pockets. “I only wanted to be friends at first but she wanted more. She made a pass at me and…I guess I just went for it.”
“But why? What do you see in that girl?” I asked. Other than the fact that she was going to be a doctor, which, if they got together would make their union the eighth of its kind in the James family—something I always knew Julian wanted—she just didn’t seem like his type.
“I don’t know. She’s just different—not what I’m used to.” He paused. “But it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t mean anything to me. I just hope you can forgive me.” Julian took Pookie Po from my arms, put him on the ground, and pulled me close to him. “You forgive me, baby?”
“Yes,” I said. I closed my eyes and vowed never to bring up the incident again.
“Earth to Troy…Earth to Troy,” Tasha said. I opened my eyes to find both her and Tamia looking at me intently.
“No,” I answered, remembering that night at my apartment. “No, he doesn’t love her. He loves me.”
“Exactly. That’s just what I wanted to know,” Tasha announced.
“And?” Tamia asked.
“And…my point is this: Troy loves Julian, Julian loves Troy, and Julian doesn’t love Miata.” Tasha counted off each of the points on her hand.
“So why is he in there with Miata?” Tamia jumped in again.
“Exactly, and what’s Troy going to do about it?” Tasha said, whipping her head around to look at me.
“What’s Troy going to do about it?” I asked, referring to myself in the third person—Tasha’s rationale does that to you sometimes.
“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do…. Oh, I’ll tell you what you’re going to do,” Tasha said, sitting back in the center of the backseat. She sounded like the Wicked Witch of the West putting together a plot to kill Dorothy. “You’re going to take her man.”
“Now I know you’re crazy.” Tamia tried to turn the ignition again. “We’re leaving. Where’s your car, Troy?”
“No, listen,” Tasha said, stopping Tamia from turning the ignition. “Troy gave us all of the facts. This is real love. While Julian is confused right now by that hoe, what they share is real love. I don’t know about you, but I believe her. I believe her and I’m going to support her.”
“No, you want Troy to be desperate and chase some man around. That’s childish. I say, and I do believe I’m the only sane one in this damn car right now,” Tamia said, looking at me, “I say, if Julian loves Troy he’ll come back to her on his own. She’ll have him if she waits.”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about, Tamia. Why do we always have to wait? I don’t know about you ladies, but I’m tired of waiting to exhale. I’m ready to beat down that hoe! She clearly has some kind of voodoo spell over poor Julian.” We all laughed. “All I’m saying is, anything worth having is worth fighting for, Tamia. Like how I fought for my husband,” Tasha said, waving her wedding ring in the front seat.
“You didn’t have to fight for shit with Lionel. He loves you so much he’d drink your bathwater,” Tamia said. She had a point. Lionel loved two things: basketball and Tasha. He showered her with all of the love any woman could desire—the one thing I know in my heart she was in search of when she jumped in that car and left L.A. all those years ago. Due to her insecurities, Tasha was used by old boyfriends, but Lionel adored her. And he wasn’t a bad catch either. He was Haitian and Peruvian and had the kind of impeccable dark chocolate skin that you had to look at twice to be sure the man wasn’t wearing some kind of makeup. He was well over seven feet tall, with a hunky build and had the cutest dimples I’d ever seen on a grown man. He was more than easy to look at. While I was sure a baby was nowhere in the near future for him and Tasha, between the two of them, when it did happen, the baby would be born with the kind of unearthly cuteness that would make all of the other babies born on that day refuse any nursery photos.
“Yeah, how do you think I made that happen? Lionel loves me, but Lionel has a dick. We had some drama along the way, just like everyone else. I’m not stupid. Now, listen to me, ‘smart girls.’ When you meet a man, you plan your outfit, what to eat so you don’t look stupid at the table, when he can kiss you, when you will accept another date, and when you will invite him to your bed. You plan everything,” Tasha said.
Tamia and I couldn’t help but nod our heads along with her. She sounded like she was giving the “get-a-man gospel.”
“So why not plan a way to get and keep your man? That’s our damn problem. We get a man and stop damn planning. Stop getting our nails done, complimenting him, dressing nice, talking about interesting things. Pretty soon, we stop planning interesting things to do in the bedroom. You know what happens then?” Tasha pushed her head back into the front seat. “Your man ends up at some damn half-fancy black restaurant with a bitch named after a fucking cheap car. And why?”