Ex-girl to the Next Girl (22 page)

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, Ocho sent me.”

She then invited me in. She had an old-time velvet sofa and love seat with wood on the armrest.

I handed her some money and she said, “Tell him I said thank you, and I'll bring the boy up to see him.”

“Okay.”

Jahan came down the steps—he was five. “Mi-ma, who is that?”

“A friend of your dad.”

“Tell my dad I want to live with him.”

“Boy, you live with me. Go upstairs or I'll take you up there.”

Chapter
37

A
ndrew was holding my hand as we walked down scenic Penns Landing. Boats were at the dock and the water was flowing back and forth. Across the river you could see Camden, New Jersey and the Aquarium. The sun was just setting as we walked passed it all. I was enjoying the moment. Andrew asked me to blow in his eye because something had flew in it. He bent down and I tried to see what was in his eyes. I blew and blew and then he said it's out, thank you. “What was it?” I asked.

It was this he said holding a white gold, emerald-cut diamond ring.

“What is that, Andrew?”

“Kim, I know we have only known each other for a couple of months, but when it is right, it is right. I never felt like this about another woman—will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” he said as he bent on one knee in front of me.

“Andrew, we just met.”

“I love you, Kim. And nothing is going to change that. We have the same goals, and I want to marry you.” I didn't even care about the ring or its size but it was huge.

“Yes, I will marry you,” I said as we kissed without thinking about it.

 

 

A day later I told my mother that we were getting married and heard the first “Congratulations. Oh my, how soon? When do I have to start planning?”

The thought of going with my mother to get a dress again, and looking at banquet halls, began to feel like déjà vu to me. My mom took over my first wedding. I can't go through that again. I mean, I got the pretty dress, my sisters had their dresses, everybody showed up with money and gifts, and I walked down the aisle—and the wedding never happened. All types of thoughts overloaded my brain and the one that stayed was I can't marry him—not yet. I got in my car and drove straight to his house.

“Andrew, we need to talk,” I said as I rushed past him and took a seat on his sofa covered with Barbie and her accessories.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“We can't get married. We need to talk about us. We never got basic things out of the way. Like, where are we going to live? Then, how about kids? Do you want more? I don't want any—I want my tubes tied. I love my boys, but I don't want any more kids. Will Cianni be enough for you? Will I be good enough for you for the rest of your life? Why do you want to marry me? How do you know you won't get tired of me? Huh? Do you know I was raped in college and Kevin just met his dad? Do you know right before we met I was seeing a psychiatrist. You still want to marry me?”

“I don't care about any of that Kim. I'm not leaving you, for any reason or any thing. I love you. I'm here. How about we sell both houses and buy one big, pretty house with a pool, and a two-car garage, with chandeliers in every room and a big kitchen with an island in the middle,” he said as he comforted me.

“Can we afford a house like that?”

“Yes, we can. I make enough money to take care of us.”

“Andrew, you didn't say how you feel about kids.”

“I'm fine with not having any more.”

“How do you know that won't change?” I asked.

“Because it won't. Kim, what's up with you?”

“Nothing. I just, I just have my mom and everybody planning our wedding the moment I told them we were engaged.”

“Kim, don't be nervous. Listen, if you don't want this big, grandiose wedding, let's cancel it.”

“Cancel it? You mean not get married?”

“No, I want to marry you. I mean cancel the big wedding. We don't need a big parade—we both have been married before.”

“
You
have been married before,” I said, correcting him.

“You know what I'm trying to say. We both spent money before and had that big party. I think what we need to do is just jump on a plane and go get married.”

“Like where, Jamaica. Everybody does that.”

He thought for a moment and said, “Let's take the kids with us. Let's get married in Disney World.”

I laughed. I'm not getting married with Mickey Mouse.”

“No, it will be real informal. The kids will come, I can get my parents to come, and you can have your mom and dad. We'll get them suites and invite our sisters and a few close friends and family.”

“How soon?” I asked.

“As soon as you like.”

 

 

We decided that we were going to start everything immediately. I called my mother to explain everything to her.

“Mom, we have changed plans. We are getting married in Florida, and we are going to buy you and Daddy tickets. There is not going to be a lot of hoopla like there was before at the last wedding. Just us, just family.”

“But what about all my planning?” she said disappointed.

“Mom, I'm sorry, but I want to do it this way. I'm still paying you back for the first wedding,” I said, reasoning with her.

“Okay, well, when are we leaving?”

“This weekend—start packing.”

E
ven though me and Malik are hot and heavy, I find myself thinking about Erick all the time. I guess I should be happy that I have someone that is so good to me, but I think I still love Erick. I'm going to give Erick one more chance—if he don't go for it, then fuck it. I love him. I want to get with him. I picked up the telephone. I was about to call him and tell him how I felt and how I think we should be together, but before I had a chance, a text message from Malik came through. He was saying that he missed me and wanted to see me. I messaged him back that I missed him, too. I have to admit that it feels good to have someone in my life that is about me. I decided not to call Erick—instead, I dialed Malik.

“I want to see you. You going to stay with me tonight?” he asked.

“Yeah, I'll stay with you tonight. I'll be over,” I said. I took a shower, lotioned my body, and rode over to Malik's house. He had all the lights out. I knocked on the door and he pulled me in. He had a comforter on the middle of the floor, surrounded with candles, white wine, cheese and crackers. He opened a bottle of wine and handed me a glass. I took a sip.

“What's this for?” I asked.

“I was just thinking about you.”

“Thank you. That was so thoughtful.”

“You're welcome,” he said.

I thanked him again by kissing his lips. He kissed me back and laid my body on the comforter and devoured every inch between my legs for an hour. It was so enjoyable, I couldn't even move or speak. He then just held me and told me all he wanted to do was please me. That is so what's up. Erick who?

 

 

I awoke in the middle of the night, and Malik told me to be quiet. He was hunched down, peeking out the window.

“What's going on?” I said, wondering why I had to be quiet.

“It's my ex-wife—she is crazy. She is knocking on the door.”

“Well, go answer the door,” I demanded.

“No, if she knows I'm home, then she will break out the window.” It seemed strange that Malik was hiding from his ex-wife, but he said some people don't know how to let go. After about ten minutes she left and we went back to sleep.

I
was so suspicious of Malik “Mister Creep-Creep.” He hadn't come home yet. I called his phone and he didn't answer. I talked to Ocho for a little while, then I went to sleep. I awoke around three in the morning. He wasn't home yet, wasn't answering his phone, and hadn't called. I decided I was going to ride over to Jarrod's to see if he was there so he couldn't lie and say he was over there. I drove up to Jarrod's house—all the lights were off. I tried peeking in, but it was pitch-black and I couldn't see anything. I knocked on the door a few times. Nobody came to the door. I thought I heard somebody, so I knocked again. Malik could not tell me he got drunk and spent the night over at Jarrod's, or he was helping him move.

 

 

The next day I went through my day like nothing was wrong. Malik has to come home and explain where he has been and what he is doing. And when he does, I'm going to cuss his ass out and then find out what is going on with us.

I wasn't going to stay home and sulk over him. I decided I was going to do something for me and went to the hair-and-nail salon. I called and called, and still he didn't answer—he was treating me how he used to treat Kim like a nut jawn, sucker, a nobody and I'm not feeling that. He got to be messing with somebody else, but who?

After my nails were dry and my natural hair was done, I felt better about myself. My hair was growing back nicely and I looked good. If Malik couldn't appreciate that, then Ocho or someone else could. I entered the house and I saw some of Malik's mail sitting on the kitchen table. He must have just left, because the television was on and the cordless was off the charger. I was so mad that I'd missed him. I ran up the steps and saw a bag full of his dirty clothes. I opened the bag and saw a note that read,
You are a special man. I am enjoying our time together
. It was signed
Nadine Clark
. I stared at the note. Who the hell was Nadine? I ran back down the stairs to call Malik, but instead of calling him I pushed Redial on the phone to see if he'd used the phone. A woman answered the phone and said, “Thank you for calling John Master Middle School. How may I help you?”

“Excuse me, what is this?” I asked. The woman replied a John Master Middle School.

I hung up the phone. Who was Malik talking to at a middle school? I thought about the name on the note and pressed Redial again. “Excuse me, is there a Ms. Clark there?” I asked.

“She is in class—I can't disturb the class. I can take a message for her.” I got the address and went up to the school. I didn't stop at the office. The hall aide assumed I was a parent, because I asked her which way to Ms. Clark's room and she told me second floor, room 207. I walked right into her classroom. There was another woman and her talking—they were eating lunch, reading magazines. I looked at them for a moment, trying to decipher which one was dealing with my husband. It couldn't be the older one—it had to be the young, big girl.

Before I could say something to them, the lady wiped her mouth and said, “Can I help you?”

I said, “Yes, hi, I'm looking for Ms. Clark.”

“Oh, you have the wrong room—she is in room 209, the next classroom over.”

“Okay, thank you,” I said. I walked in the room—this time my heart was up.

“Are you a parent, because I have to pick up my class from gym. I set conferences up before and after school,” the woman said, writing something on the board and dismissing me.

“No, I'm not a parent.”

“Then who are you and how can I help you?” she asked as she paused from writing.

“You can help me by leaving my husband, Malik Moore, alone.”

“Your husband?” she said, frowning.

“Yes, my husband. Don't act like you don't know. I know he has been staying out with you. You are so wrong. You're in here teaching kids, and you are involved with married men. They should fire your ass. I will tell you one thing—you better stay away from my husband,” I yelled as I moved closer to her and she backed away.

“Malik never said anything about being married. He told me his ex-wife was giving him a hard time with his visitation of his son,” she said.

I had to laugh. “Well, let me tell you something. I'm Malik's wife and we don't have no kids together. His baby mom has a baby for him. I'm his wife, not his baby mom, or girlfriend, so leave my husband alone or—”

“I didn't know Malik was married. I have been to his house and he spends the night out with me.”

“That's because I work at night. And you're spending the night at his friend Jarrod's house not my house!”

“Well I didn't know. I find that real hard to believe that you are still married to Malik,” she said with an attitude.

“So you are saying I'm lying?”

“No, I'm saying can you leave my class. You said what you had to say.”

I thought about choking her for trying to play me. She was dealing with my husband. I was ready to choke her when I heard the two teachers come into the room.

“Are you okay, Ms. Clark?” they asked.

“Yes, I am,” she said, embarrassed.

“You sure?” the older woman asked.

“Do you have a pass? You stopped at the office, right? If you didn't, you are trespassing, and I'm going to call the cops and you are going to get locked up,” the younger one said.

I looked them all over and decided it was time to go. I left the school. No need to hit her or get arrested. She seemed like she really didn't know that Malik was married. I called Malik as soon as I got a few blocks away from the school. He finally picked up.

“Malik, where are you? You have to come home,” I cried.

“What's wrong, baby? Are you all right?”

“No, just come home. It is an emergency.”

“What's wrong, baby?”

“Just come home
now
.”

“I'll be right there, baby,” he said.

 

 

I beat Malik home, I was so mad. I wasn't going to give him a chance to explain himself. Here he was, fucking around with some bitch and shit, and our house is not in order. He must be out of his damn mind. I went to the closet and grabbed all of Malik's suits and threw them down the steps. Then I took a handful of shoes and threw them down—they fell and rested on top of the suits. I didn't even get a bag to put his shit in. As I threw his belongings down the steps, I stumbled upon a duffel bag. I opened it and in it was a digital camera with pictures of naked women in all types of positions. A cellphone, handcuffs, a phonebook with all these women's numbers in it. Letters, receipts for strip clubs and hotel rooms. Malik had been cheating all along. The moment Malik came home, I blasted his ass.

He took a look around at all his stuff at the door and said, “What is goin' on, Shonda?”

As calmly as I could, I said, “Malik, who the fuck is Nadine?” He had the stupidest look I'd ever seen on his face.

Then he said, “Nadine who?” His face was telling on him.

I was so aggravated with him, I just said, “Listen, Malik, I went up to her school. I already know everything.”

“I don't know what you are talking about.”

“You don't know what I'm talking about.”

“No, I don't. Why do you have all my stuff down here on the ground like this?”

“Because this marriage is over.”

“For what? What are you talking about? Shonda, listen,” he said, grabbing my arm.

“Get the fuck off me. Malik, it's over. You are a liar and a cheat. Look at all of this that I found,” I said dumping the duffel bag.

“I'm not a cheat. That stuff is not mine, it's Jarrod's. I don't know any Nadine. Plus, you know what? You're not all that innocent either, Shonda. You been doing shit, too! I'm not stupid.”

“No, I haven't, and we're not talking about me. We're talking about your cheatin' ass,” I screamed.

“I'm not a cheater,” he yelled.

“Yes, you are, and I don't want to be married to you no more. You are a lying bastard. I want you out of my house, Malik. You have to roll. Right now. Take your shit and get out.”

“Fine—we don't have to be married, but this is my house—I'm not moving anywhere. You move,” he said.

“I'm not moving. You are going to get out!” I screamed as he walked toward the door.

“Shonda, whatever,” he said, throwing his hands up at me and walking out the door.

“That's all you got to say is
whatever
?” I said.

“Yeah, whatever. You say I'm cheating and I know I'm not, so whatever.”

“So you just going to leave while I'm talking to you, bitch.”

“Stop calling me names, Shonda. Ain't nothing else to be said. You don't want to be married, fine.” And he walked out the door.

I was so mad. Malik is lying, saying he don't know the bitch. Then he tried to say this bag doesn't belong to him. Then he's just going to leave out while I'm talking to him. Oh hell, no. I'm done. I can't take his shit no more. No more. Malik wants to cheat on me, I got something for his ass. I got to get his ass out. I called Tae up, filled her in on today's details, and then asked, “How I'm going to get this bitch out of my house?”

“I would change the locks and put his stuff out.”

“That's what I am going to do. Okay, I'm going to call you back. I am going to call a locksmith.”

The locksmith came and changed the locks. I paid the man and started taking all Malik's stuff and placing it on the pavement in front of our house.

 

 

Malik came home. I heard him put his key in the door and that's when I screamed, “I changed the locks, bitch.”

“Let me in, Shonda,” he said, bamming on the door.

“You don't have nothing else in here. Everything you own is out there.”

“Shonda, open this damn door or I'm going to break this door down.”

“No, go move in with your teacher. Go live with that bitch or one of the other bitches you deal with. I got a man, anyway—how you like that? He got money too unlike your broke-ass.”

“It's okay—I know you was out there. I don't know why I even married your ass. You ain't nothing. Don't nobody want you,” he yelled.

“That's what you think. I got a good man.”

“Where he at? Tell the dude you about to get fucked up. Open this door.”

“No, leave or I'm going to call the cops.”

“Call them—my name is on the lease, too! You can't just kick me out the house.”

“Oh yes, I can and I did.” Malik stopped knocking, so I peeked out the window and saw Jarrod pulling up, helping Malik gather his stuff.

“I told you not to marry her ass. That she wasn't shit. Look at what she's putting you through. Leave this crazy bitch alone. She's not worth it man,” Jarrod said.

I was ready to cuss his ass out and tell him to mind his business, but I wasn't about to open the door. Malik collected whatever could fit in his car and left. I dialed Tae back and she told me that I could go and get a restraining order on him and he would get kicked out immediately.

I made sure Malik was gone before I walked out the door. I got in my car and went downtown to the Justice Center to get the protection order from abuse. Tae called me back and said, “Shonda, if you want them to give you an emergency protection order, you have to tell them that Malik is kicking your ass or is not going to work.”

“Okay, so what should I say? He punched me in my face?”

“No, they're not going to believe that because you don't have any bruises. Just say he's been threatening to kill you and punched you in the stomach.”

“All right.”

“Listen, Shonda, you can tell me to mind my business, but you're not doing all this for that dude in jail, are you?”

“No.”

“Just making sure, because it wouldn't be worth leaving your husband for.”

“Tae, this man is cheating on me. I only started cheating on him because I knew he was cheating.”

“All right, girl—be careful. Call me when you get out of there.”

 

 

A guard told me I had to go downstairs. I was acting like I was so upset when I entered the room. A woman with a gray suit and red, curly hair asked how she could help me.

“I need to speak to someone about my husband,” I said.

“Yes, I can help you.” I sat down and told the lady a made-up story about how Malik hit me all the time and how he violently told me he was going to kill me.

“What did he say he was going to do to you exactly?” the woman asked.

“He said, ‘Bitch if you leave me, I'm going to kill you.' And then he bammed the door and I called the cops. I'm scared—I think he might kill me.” Then, just to make sure she knew I wasn't playing, I told her that he has a gun.

“He has a gun?”

“Yes,” I said. Then she wrote something down and said, “I'll be back.” I sat nervously—I hope she believed me. I think I sounded right and believable. The woman came back and said, “Mrs. Moore, I need you to sign this.”

“Sign what?” I said, grabbing the paper.

“It is the statement that you just gave me. The judge is about to approve it.” I signed the form and moments later, the woman came back out and said, “Here's your protection order. It will go in effect immediately. Be careful.”

I thanked the woman for her help. I called Malik and told him that he could pick up his restraining order at the 19th District police station, and if he came anywhere near my house, I would call the cops and have him arrested.