Hail Mary....(Tupac)

Get Into it

   By the the next morning, China and I had a solid plan; we would either win or...we would win. China had to bring me down to earth by reminding me, "This only goes down easy, if Gerald is feeling guilty about how everything ended between you and he.  If he doesn’t feel guilty, or if he was just majorly full of shit, this plan may not work…I need you to prepare yourself for this to not work, Ryndra."

It was just like China to be so black and white about it.  "Look, I’m not trying to hear anything about this not working out…I believe in the plan.  Do you believe in the plan?"  She looked at me silently, unsure.

   "Look China, if you aren’t into the plan, tell me why so we can make it better or create a new one.  This probably seems stupid to you, but I feel like that nigga Gerald took from me.  I also feel like Chimeze feels like he took from him as well.  He says he forgives me, but those are just words…without some definitive action on my part, something that shows loyalty or at least a rejection of 'all things Gerald, things will never be right between Chimeze and I," I stated, looking at her - begging her to get with the idea or make up a better one.

   "Ryndra, desperation in the recipes of a plan, no matter how solid of a plan it is, leads to issues.  He’s dangerous.  Maybe you should just take this 'L' as a lesson vs 'a loss' and keep it trucking.  Love on Chimeze.  Men are simple.  Just be with him all the time.  Suffocate that nigga with your presence and he won’t have a choice but to know you aren’t a snake bitch…"

   I sat down at her desk, rolling it back and forth, to think about it with a huff.  I wasn’t interested in taking any 'L’s;' not 'lessons' and certainly not 'losses.'  I thought my abortion scheme was right on the money; Gerald couldn’t have protected himself during every session he had with my unconscious body.  So I would find out what was what with that, as I couldn’t ask his lying 'big love-ass' for the truth directly…and he would definitely give me the money, seeing as he was so concerned about Odella’s  feelings over mine, I wondered how much would he be willing to pay to keep his asshole activities a secret…

   The emails that I discovered, between he and Odella, spoke of him being a 'step-father' figure to the special needs baby, helping her with the rent and a potentially bigger plan that involved them moving in together, possibly getting married and being a family.  When I checked the time stamps, I found much of this undying devotion and planning happened while Gerald’s ass laid in the bed next to me. You ever been so angry, that all you could feel was your vomit threatening to crash against and through your teeth…well that’s how I felt: to the tee.  My anger was so great that it was stressing me to the point of sickness.  Thinking of how I was forced to 'play dumb' until I got my GRE testing out of the way: I was registered at a testing site, near his place, in Gravesend Brooklyn - somewhere too far away from everything else to travel to from anywhere else.  So I waited until I was finished with the physical testing portion - to confront him. 

   

  When I asked him about Odella, Loreal and the other faceless names attached to the ass-shots sent to his phone, his voice was just as detached as it was now, on the phone, when I called him with China’s blessing and agreement to participate."what do you want from me?", he asked me coldly. "Why are you calling me?", he asked me forcefully."Call me back later", he directed me menacingly, refusing to be specific about what was a good time to call or whether he would pick up the phone at all.

   Eventually, to China’s surprise I wore his ass down and he eventually agreed to meet up with me. That meeting led to him giving me 5,000, for my troubles, transport and a specialized abortion - suited to my illness.  However, there was no abortion; I took the morning after pill the day after he kicked me out of his home - but, 'fuck him,' I thought.  He didn’t need to know that: not now or ever.  Considering I was supposed to cut his ass off, after I received the money, I wasn’t too worried about him finding out.

    I hit my cousin off with 1,000 of that and took Chimeze out to eat at "The Blackstone," this overpriced restaurant with subpar food, because that was where Chimeze said he wanted to go.  Considering he was being a good sport about forgiving me for my lies, the indiscretion, the humiliation and ultimately for breaking a trust that we had cultivated over a three year term, as very close friends: I wasn’t complaining; not about the food and certainly not about the prices.  I wasn’t about to tell him "no"… It was just so odd, spending money on a man – in this manner.  My mom had been infuriated when she learned that he didn’t want to pay for my food on our first official date: "so why are you still in contact with him again," she questioned when I informed her of how I had actually met Chimeze.  Later on, when I informed her that I would usually tip when he paid for a meal, her old school values almost made her faint right in front of me.  Then and there, she said, "Listen, I don’t care what new wave educated feminists are saying; no daughter of mine is homely enough to be paying for her own meals, in any amount, when she with a man who claims to be interested in her.  Don’t ever let me hear of it again!  Not from you, not from anyone.  That isn’t me; therefore it isn’t you.  I wish I would pay….”  She let her voice trail off, as she walked out of the room and up the stairs.  I guess the conversation made her extremely tired, as I was left to assume she had retired for the evening.  I was afraid to follow her, at the time, as my mom has a habit of throwing things at people who displease her - and she was looking at me like she was Andy Pennant, pitching for the Yankees, pre-ascension.  So I left well enough - all the way - alone.

   Prior to the cheating, Chimeze had just taken over paying for our dinners, and started to act like we were dating for real - but post cheating, I felt like I had some making up to do; the same way a man, in the same situation would.  He was probably the only man that I would allow myself to openly spend money on, because I knew that as badly as I needed Gerald to pay for hurting me, Chimeze needed me to pay for my guilt, to assuage his manly pride.  I accepted my wrongs, and was all about being as accountable as I could. Money was the easiest part of this game.

 

   We did a lot of local traveling in an attempt to spend time getting to know one another and reclaiming the closeness and honesty we once shared.  In Maryland, he reminded me why he was my favorite person to eat in new places with, now that he had gotten to know me; my likes and dislikes - he had a way of making me feel shiny in public.  When he smiled, I felt my whole world stop.  I loved introducing him to the culture of "crabs".Apparently, African people , in general, are unfamiliar with 'crab life";  I had fun breaking them open and teaching him how to know which parts had the most meat.

   In Philly he reminded me why he was my absolute favorite person to sleep next to; I loved the way he knew to lock me in his embrace to keep me from being the karate kid, while sleep, all night long.  Even though there was a sensual aspect that we lacked as a couple, his ability to read me and calm me into slumber - for the night - was epic.  As we went out on numerous movie outings, walks, to dinner and brunch; I was reminded of a time where I could tell him anything, and I was trying my best to get him, to get us, back in that space. 

   Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all trips and Ryndra-financed dinners, we had a lot of issues over my indiscretion, but we were working on them…slowly, but surely. If nothing else, my illness and the challenges placed in my path, within my lifetime, taught me -over and over again- that the best things take time, patience and consistent work. Chimeze was worth it, to me ; I didn't see myself living happily without him; we would just have to work on things as they came up. Including his penchant for taking to other people about me, and using social media as a place to 'air it all out"-even when he didn't know it all, to air it...

   When leaving my rooming house, three months after putting the  cheating, lying Gerald and the money-yielding false abortion story behind me, I found him waiting for me - in the lobby.

I felt his presence, as soon as I stepped off the elevator.  The lobby was simple, with a twenty-four hour mail room operator, who monitored the various cameras positioned about the building, and maintained: "I am not security or any kind of doorman,"in his thick slurrish Guatemalan accent, whenever asked.  "If you need your mail, tell me your room number.  If you are visiting, please show identification, and sign the book.  That is what I do, I look at identification and I direct people to sign the book.  I don’t hold open doors and I don’t record complaints.  That’s what that number is for," he would end his recitation, pointing to the sign on the wall that gave the email and phone number for the offices that managed the building. 

              I had moved in the rooming house, as a Segway to get into another apartment.  That can be a rough thing to do, especially if you are coming off of an eviction: "Save your breath…I am sure you are a lovely tenant, but why should I take a chance on you…when I don’t have too," said the landlord of the stabilized unit, boasting three bedrooms and two bathrooms, on the upper east side, interviewing college students/ freelancers and other young adults (under 35)  to do the roommate bit.  I remember being annoyed, because I had revealed my eviction, and the nature behind it (gentrification), when I applied and paid the fee for the credit check.  I was annoyed, and almost didn’t answer the phone when he called me, an hour later.  I was on the crosstown bus, getting ready to head back to my mother’s home, eating a sandwich out of napkins.  I wiped my hands on the blue seat in front of me so I wouldn’t get grease on my phone's screen:

"Hello, Ms. Wright?"   

"Yes," I replied cautiously and politely, thinking he had possibly changed his mind about considering me for 1/3^rd of the unit.

 "I am sorry that I can’t offer you tenancy in my unit.  I don’t do tenants with evictions; most NYC landlords have the same policy, no matter the circumstance…"

 He went into a solid, but unhelpful explanation of why, but I wasn’t interested.  If I wasn’t getting the apartment, I was over him and this conversation,

 "Thank you for considering me, Mr. Reinberg.  I have to go,” I stated firmly, seconds away from pressing the 'end call' button, when he interrupted me:

"Ms. Wright, just give me a few more seconds of your time," he demanded, rustling through, what sounded like, paperwork.

   "Yes, here it is, he continued.  "There's this rooming house on 78^th and Riverside Drive that I think you should take a look at.  I know you may not have considered this, but I know a lot of people who have worked their way up from an eviction, by living in a rooming house and establishing a solid rental history.  Also, keep in mind that the Upper West Side is a very nice area to live in and this could be a good situation for you," he finished off - giving me the full address, cross streets, and managing agent's name.

   I decided, that since I was already closer to that area than I would probably be within the next week, It'd be better to see 'what was up' with this place-before heading home.  When I got there I was unimpressed by the lobby, and it’s attendants - but when I saw the room, with a few other people there for an "open room" viewing, I immediately  pulled the managing agent aside and agreed to pay the deposit and first month’s rent - locking it in.  I remember, Chimeze was extremely proud of me and thought that I had shown extreme foresight and made a great decision.  He really liked the area, and was a little bummed out when I found a full on apartment, less than six months later, even though this would mean no longer having to share a kitchen or bathroom and having three times the space. 

   Real estate doesn’t sit in manhattan, not even in the less desirable areas, and having put down a deposit - it was too late to consider making a decision to maintain the room; I only heard the ridiculousness out from Chimeze, because he was my Chimeze.  Any one elses Chimeze would have had to shut up with the negativity and longing for what was now past. An apartment will always be better than a room and a shared bathroom and kitchen situation. Considering the bedbug and Ebola situations that were on the rise, all over the City , I was  ready to go. I needed more control over my personal abode than the rooming house offered; I needed to be comfortable enough to take a bath and not be worried about the horder next door, with the lower bunk bed full of news paper and only 1/16th of the floor open for walking. 'What if there was a fire in there? No ma-am , no ham and no cheese; live your life and be a hoarder, but don't be my next door neighbor ,while being that.', I thought to myself , while politely watching Chemize flap his gums about the benefits of UWS living.  I only wished, I didn’t have to wait a month, for the management to check my credit and background, to do so. 

   If I hadn’t had to wait for that, I wouldn’t be standing,  looking at the back of Gerald's head, in the dated rooming house lobby, with mirrored doors that showed him staring at my reflection; confrontationally staring directly in the eyes of my reflection.  It was too late to run back upstairs; he had already seen me, and "Mr. Not Security” probably wouldn’t do much to get in the way of a purposed and enraged 6’3, line-backer-built Black man, not signing "the book."  Furthermore, any attempt to flee would only cement whatever ideas he had about my disappearance, the abortion, the money, Chimeze and not to mention  those high definition videos, and  pictures I had sent of our previous 'familiar outings', and 'passionate innings' at his home.  Those images in their non-descript manilla packaging, in addition to our extensive, and quite salacious, text messaging history had probably reached Odella’s home and office,  about a month ago.  Turns out, the 5,000 windfall wasn’t enough pain to inflict on him, not for me anyway; so without consulting China or Chimeze, I did a little bit extra on my own.  So, I guess he was here to follow up that extra I did.

   Squaring my shoulders, and adopting a blank face - quickly erased all of my messages from Chimeze, as I approached him, as he was known to be intrusive with regards to my personal technology . i didn't want Chimeze to know that I had taken it far enough for Gerald to be moved to this, especially since I didn't discuss my intentions before carrying them out.I figured the best way to not have to discuss the turn of events with Chimeze would be to keep him uninformed about the turn of events. Strangely enough, I had a new reason to extoll the virtue of my rooms upper west side location, as it pretty much assured me that while Gerald might have a lot of harsh words for what I did, he wouldn't dare kill me mid day, in broad day light on the Upper West side .

  I saw him motion to me from outside the building and after taking a deep yoga breath, I ultimately followed his lead - through the glass doors out of the rooming house, unsure of what was to follow…

***

   Deep in thought, about how the past had led to the now, I noticed the banging, door kicking and incessant buzzing of my intercom had ceased. However, checking my watch, I realized that over thirty minutes had past and the police had yet to show up for my '911' call. I wasn't surprise, this was apparently how they treated domestic violence victims in my area. We called. They showed up when they felt like it. We would fill out reports and they would act as if the abusers crazy had roots in something we had done or something we were not doing. The whole act , that's what I would consider it-an act, was quite time consuming and annoying. Mind you,  Gerald may have broken out after I called the police, but I was stuck in the house until they made time to inquire about my emergency, have me fill out pink dyed incident reports, and leave me with a kicked in door-literally holding on by the locks I had installed , less than a month ago-feeling no safer than before.

MOOD