PATRICIA
My baby sister sat in front of me looking like she had been mugged…hair askew, eyes wild, not speaking, damn near as still as a statue. Celena and I talked every day, either by phone or text, so it was odd to have her go radio silent. After not hearing from her in about three days, I decided to pop up on her. This morning, I used the key that was supposed to be for emergencies and let myself in to check on her.
I found her lying in bed, wrapped up in a blanket like a burrito. Her eyes were bloodshot, clearly the aftereffect of incessant crying. For the first hour that I was there, she stayed burrowed beneath the covers, not engaging in any conversation that I started with her. When I finally convinced her to get out of bed, it wasn’t much better. She got like this though…in one of her moods, typically after something happened that didn’t go her way. She’d been like this since we were kids, burrowing into herself when emotionally charged until she was so filled that she exploded.
It hurt my heart, though, that she hadn’t felt the need to reach out to me. As her big sister, I felt it my responsibility to assuage her pain, be a storehouse for her grief. It’s been this way since we lost mom and dad. Celena was my responsibility…and outside of PJ, we were all we had.
“He left, Patty,” she said suddenly, voice scratchy as if she’d just awakened from days of slumber, “He just fucking disappeared.”
After uttering those couple of sentences, the dam broke and she began sobbing. Instinctively, I moved closer, gathering her in my arms. We rocked back and forth as I rubbed her back in large comforting circles while whispering in her ear for her to let it all out. Now the reason for her state of being was clear. Something happened with that pussy ass motherfucker she’d been dating…Jacob. Just thinking his name caused a grimace to appear on my face which I quickly tried to remove as I pulled back to look into her face. She’d gone silent again, but her shoulders still heaved with sobs and rivulets of tears continuously streamed from her eyes.
It’s not that I didn’t like…actually let me not continue that lie. I couldn’t stand that motherfucker Jacob Parker. He was too smooth for me…didn’t appear to have a genuine bone in his body. But for some reason my baby sis was enamored. I’m sure it was a combination of being hoodwinked by his charm and dickmatized, but Celena was sure he was The One. I was not…for a few reasons—namely because he was slicker than an oil patch on hot pavement. Even my boy didn’t like him and I swear that kid likes everybody. We suffered through him, however, for the sake of Lena.
When she was finally able to gain her composure, Celena ran down the details of the situation with Jacob and I was trying valiantly to stay alert and listen to her, but also was running through my mental rolodex of ways I could bring harm to the dusty motherfucker who dared play games with my blood.
“Patty…” Celena sighed, “Stop. I know what you’re thinking. You’ve got that look in your eye.”
“What look?” I asked, trying to sound completely innocent.
“The same look you had in your eye when I came home in fifth grade and told you that Montriece Jefferson called me an ugly hoe.”
A slight giggle escaped at that jogged memory. I definitely handled her little ass for talking shit about my kid sister. I didn’t play when it came to Celena. Anybody could get it. Even a girl who was several years younger than me.
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop. He…I did this to myself, sis. Once again fell for the okey doke game some nigga was runnin’. Too blinded by what I thought was love to see what was in front of my face. I swear I wish I was more like you.”
“Nope, we’re not doing that. Not today. You don’t need to be a cynical, distrustful old lady. That’s my role. You’re like mommy…you always see the good in people, even when they don’t deserve for you to give them the benefit of the doubt. Don’t let ol punk ass Jake from State Farm take that away from you.”
“He…I…Patty, you know what hurts the most? Beyond having my feelings disregarded and trampled on once again? He fucked with my livelihood, sis. My job could have been in jeopardy because he wasn’t man enough to just end things properly. Their account was a huge one for Urban Current and I was lead account executive on it. To snatch away their business with no warning and everyone knew that we were involved? That reflects so badly on me. Thank God, I didn’t lose my job.”
“Which is why you should let me talk to a few folks I know and let him get paid a visit from some bompany.”
“Oh my god, Patty! You did not just say bompany. Knowing damn well your bougie ass doesn’t know any bloods,” Celena responded, laughing.
My mission had been accomplished. I threw her off track slightly and got a laugh.
“You don’t know who I know. I get around, little girl.”
Celena wiped her face and stared at me. I kept a serious mug on until the curious glance she leveled upon me made me break down in laughter, too.
“I’m serious, sis,” I said, “Give the word and I’ll make his life a living hell.”
Celena sighed and shook her head.
“I just…I want to put that all behind me. And take some time off from dating. Because these men…they’re…I just need a break.”
“I keep telling you they’re only good for two things…fucking and retrieving things off high shelves.”
“Something is wrong with you,” Celena laughed again, “But I recognize what you’re doing and…thank you.”
I stayed with Celena for a few more hours, not leaving until I was convinced that she was on the road to being all right. Knowing how the pain of heartache can fester like an open wound, I made sure to send back up reserves over to her place once I left to retrieve PJ from the birthday party that he was attending. Between me, and her friends Devorah and Cadence baby sis would come through this stronger and better.
***
I couldn’t shake the feeling of heaviness that lingered in my chest from when Celena said she wished she could be more like me. I was a carefully curated persona of a person in her eyes—fiercely independent, the necessity of being tied to one man for life non-existent. We’d both grown up in a household with two parents that was a toxic environment. My father was…well let’s just say he wasn’t exactly the man anyone should aspire to be. While he’d never laid a hand on my mother physically, he had her trapped in emotional bondage as he ran roughshod over her heart. There were countless instances of women showing up on our doorstep with children in tow, claiming that my father had sired them. My mother’s love for him was unwavering, however, no matter how many times he embarrassed her.
I grew up thinking that I wanted to be nothing like her and hella distrustful of men. What I said to Celena wasn’t a lie; they were only good for few things. But I also wasn’t fully immune to being ensnared by the charms of a charismatic man, which was the root cause for one of the biggest secrets I’ve held onto for the past eleven years. Since then, however, I’d wised up…and kept my heart to myself, using men in ways that satisfied my physical yearnings, but never any emotional entanglement. Which is why JON.com was the perfect set up. So hopefully my damn profile would be approved by now, I thought as I logged into my email account on the iPad. To my surprise—and relief, honestly—not only had my profile been approved, but I had an inbox full of potential matches.
I clicked on the profile of match number one—Randy…who looked like the spare Jackson with whom he shared a name. Reading his profile it was evident that not only would he and I not be able to connect in any way, but that he was also likely a stage five clinger. Who in the hell writes a long paragraph about the qualities of his perfect woman on a site that’s essentially a hub for one-night stands?! That would be a hard no.
Bachelor number two looked vaguely familiar to me, but I couldn’t figure out why. So I clicked his username—Bakerman— to view his picture at full size. As soon as it loaded, my heart—and pocketbook if I’m being completely honest—quickened. It was the fine ass bakeshop owner, Damon. That night he dropped Patrick off, we’d flirted a little and I thought he was interested and I kind of expected him to say something more, but he didn’t make a move. Guess sending this message via JON was his way of testing the waters. I read his message and smirked.
I’ve got the perfect cure for that drought. –Bakerman
His message was accompanied with the emoji eyes and a wink. I rolled my eyes, trying but failing to hold back a laugh. I couldn’t decide on a name when setting up my profile, so I ended up using the name of the song that was playing at the time, which just happened to be Beyoncé’s “Love Drought”. I mean the sentiment was accurate because it’d been so long since I’d had some that I felt like I was going through a damn drought. And honestly, I had full confidence that the Bakerman could absolutely cure it.
Really? You’re going full corny, already?
The app quickly pinged with a reply.
I got you to respond, so I’d say the corny worked. How you doing tonight, beautiful? –Bakerman
I tried not to let myself feel too giddy at the quick response, but I was a little geeked that the attraction wasn’t one-sided. My B.O.B., Mahershala, wasn’t doing the job like he used to and I needed some real live man meat to take over.
I’m doing as well as can be expected.
In light of? –Bakerman
In light of not having been properly dicked down in one hundred and seventeen days and climbing the walls currently. In light of being so turned on by the mere appearance of your face on a computer screen. In light of wondering if what they said about hand and foot size is true since your hands dwarfed mine when we shook at that soft launch opening. In light of you and your dick being mere miles away and me not having access to it. All of that is what I wanted to say. However, I went with a more tame response.
Pent up…frustration.
I can also help with that…–Bakerman
Oh yeah? How’s that?
The answer’s in my name, sweetheart. I got plenty of treats…you gonna make some time to come see me and get some? –Bakerman
You gonna make it worth my while?
Wait…are we talking about sweet treats or…? – Bakerman
I was definitely not thinking about sweets in any fashion and quite frankly not up to beating around the bush, so I just stated my intentions plain.
I’ve been told that it’s sweet, but you’d have to decide that for yourself.
I’ve always had a helluva sweet tooth, gorgeous. You let me know when and where I’m taste testing. – Bakerman
Well hell…
I was a half a second from inviting him over to my place immediately before I remembered that PJ was here and I barely knew this man. A couple of quick interactions did not make this level of thirst appropriate or necessary. I sat for a few minutes before responding to him. I needed to slow my roll. While I worked out what I was going to say in response, my iPad dinged, informing me that I had another new message from Damon.
Cat got your tongue? Kitchen too hot, can’t stand the heat? I come on too strong? – Bakerman
Instead of responding to any of those inquiries I shot back a message with my ten digits. Put up or shut up was the name of the game. I knew that I wanted him and was going to allow myself to have him. Why delay the inevitable with this back and forth on a website? Almost instantaneously, my phone rang. I looked down to see a jumble of unfamiliar digits and hesitated in answering for a brief moment. I just knew he’d text instead of call, but look at him proving me wrong. I took a minute to gather myself and not sound too giddy when I answered.
“Hey there.”
“Dame Patterson, calling to schedule a taste test,” his baritone rumbled.
I giggled briefly before responding, “Daaaang, a girl can’t even get a proper courting before you’re tryna sample the goodies, huh?”
“Well…when they’re being offered, who am I to say no?” he countered.
“Touché.”
A brief moment of silence lingered before we both began speaking at the same time. He truncated whatever he was about to say and insisted that I speak first.
“So…I usually don’t do this, but…” I paused, not sure of how to continue this sentence.
“Are you about to break me off with a preview of the remix?”
“What?” I said, laughing because I was caught completely off guard.
“Oh we aren’t doing the intro to the remix to ignition. My bad,” Damon responded, humor lacing his tone, “Look, I think I know where you were going and before you give me that ‘I’m not this type of girl’ speech, know that I’m not looking for you to drop down and get your eagle on by command. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in you in that way at all, but I definitely would like to get to know you better, if you don’t mind.”
“I…um…yeah I’d like that, Damon. But…I mean, I’m also not opposed to us getting to know one another…in the biblical sense. I want to be clear with my intentions.”
“Well, this conversation did begin on JustOneNight.com, so I kind of figured what your intentions would eventually be. However, you still seemed to be a little skittish, so you know…I erred on the side of caution.”
“It’s not like…I’m plenty accustomed to the whole FWB situation, but I didn’t want to come off as a thirst bucket, you know? I could make you work for it a little bit,” I teased.
“Oh I’ll definitely be putting in work, sweetheart,” he responded, his voice lowering to the deep rumble from when we were first introduced, “So what’s your scheduling looking like? Can you fit me in?”
The double entendre wasn’t lost on me as I chuckled in response. I grabbed my iPad scrolling through my week to see how soon we could actually get together. The only evenings I had open were Tuesday and Thursday of this week. All others were filled with client dinners or being Patrick’s shuttle.
“Is Tuesday too soon?” I asked, biting on my lip hoping that the answer to that would be no. It was the day after tomorrow.
“Nah, I should be able to work that out. Wanna meet up at Imbibe? Around seven?”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said, around a yawn.
“Aight, well I won’t keep you. Sounds like you’re about ready to lay it down, so I’ll see you on Tuesday.”
“Until then…”