Fly on the Wall (22 page)

We had been sitting in Applebee's for two hours. I didn't know what type of advice to offer. This was a call for Superman. “So, what are you going to do?”

“What can I do?” She shrugged her shoulders. “What's done is done.”

“Yeah, but you can at least tell Marcus how you're feeling.”

“You think he gives a damn?” She rolled her eyes. “He got what he wanted. He got to fuck another woman right in front of me.” She continued. “He slipped God knows what in my drink and allowed another man to fuck me. Does it sound like he gives a shit?”

“I cannot believe this.” I saw her point.

She was angry. “It's all he talks about now. He loved it, but I don't see how our marriage is supposed to survive.” As though our discussion weren't awkward enough, my cell phone rang. I pretended not to hear it.

“You might as well answer it,” Toni said.

I looked down; it was Theo. “No, I can call him back.” I had to stay devoted to my girl and her situation.

“How are things with you two anyway?”

“Crazy.” I smiled. “I'm crazy about him.”

“Damn,” she joked. “Maybe I need to teach high school.”

“Shut up.” I decided that the change of topic was good for her. “There's a Valentine's Day dance at the school next week that Theo wants me to go to.”

“You going?”

“You must be out of your mind.” I looked at Toni. “I'm not going to a high school Valentine's Day dance with Theo, or anyone else, for that matter.”

“Why not?” She laughed. “Go as a chaperone and sneak a dance under the bleachers like you did last time.”

“No thanks,” I said. “I told him to go. I wouldn't want him to miss out on that type of stuff because of me.”

“So, he can go with a date?”

“You're trying to get him killed. I didn't say anything about a date,” I joked. “I
am
his date. I'm just not going to the dance. After graduation we can dance and frolic as much as the next couple.”

“So, what will you do while he's dancing the night away?”

“Nothing.” I thought about it. “I might catch up on some reading.”

“No, I'll come over and keep you company,” Toni volunteered. “When is it?”

“Next Friday night.”

“I'm there.” Toni pulled her organizer from her purse to jot down our appointment.

Shortly after, it was her cellular phone buzzing. “Oh my, oh my God.” Her eyes widened when she looked at it and then back at me. “I have to take this call.” She grabbed the phone like it was the Florida Lottery Committee confirming that she had indeed won the $63,000,000 jackpot.

“Hello?” Then a long paused followed. “Hi, Derek.” She giggled and grinned. “Yes, I got your message, but it was a little late. Sorry I couldn't call you back.”

I looked around the restaurant until I found the closest TV. Why are these types of restaurants always tuned to ESPN? I mean damn, can I see a music video or two while I'm eating instead?

“You mean next Friday?” Toni looked down at her organizer and then at me with guilt written all over her face. “Hold a sec for me, please.”

“I promise you that the weekend after that is yours,” she whispered to me.

I frowned. “Whatever.” I really wasn't disappointed. Maybe Derek was more of a gentleman than the porno king that Marcus was turning out to be.

She spoke into the phone again. “I can be there. What should I bring?”

“Where are you going?” I asked in a whisper.

“His place,” she mouthed to me then placed her finger to her mouth to silence me. “I can't have you cook without bringing something.” She smiled. “Okay. Wine sounds good to me.” Her conversation lasted another three minutes. “I'll talk to you later.”

I mocked her. “I'm there. I'll hang out with you the night of the dance.”

“I'm sorry, but dick—I mean duty calls.” She smiled. “He wants to start working on our project.”

“Project?” I asked. “You're taking wine and he's cooking dinner. What type of project are you two working on?”

“Paige, I need to do this.” Her dimple was showing.

I smiled. “I'm not mad at you, especially since Marcus is acting like an ass anyway.” I reached across the table to slap hands. “Do you!”

“That's right,” she said.

“Just be careful. You hear me?” She didn't hear me. “Toni, be careful.”

“I will.”

 

 

On my way home, my phone rang. I recognized the number, and I normally wouldn't pick up, but the alcohol had me extra mellow. “Hello?”

“Hey there!” I hadn't heard Doran's voice in months.

“How can I help you?”

“I'm surprised that you actually picked up,” he said. “Normally I get sent straight to voice mail.”

“It's not too late,” I said.

“Ah, c'mon.” He spoke like nothing ever happened. “Can't we be friends again?”

I was blatant. “No, we can't.”

“Why?” He spoke in a solemn tone. “What is it that you have against me?”

“Excuse me?” I slammed on the brakes. “Are you serious?” I pulled over to the shoulder of the road. I can't drink, drive, and be a bitch at the same time.

“Yes, I'm serious.” He cleared his throat. “I sincerely apologize. I tried on many occasions to give you clues about my lifestyle.”

“You didn't try hard enough.”

He snickered. “But if I did, you wouldn't have talked to me.”

“Damn right,” I said with intensity like he was in the passenger seat. “I'm not into that down-low gay bullshit.”

“Bisexual,” he interrupted. “I'm bisexual, not gay.”

“Whatever the hell you are, you all get fucked up the ass, so it's all the same to me.”

“Hold up, honey.” He sounded like an angry woman. “I didn't call you to be insulted.”

“Oh yeah?” I had waited months to get all this off my chest. “Well, I didn't go to your apartment that night to be insulted either, but shit happens.”

“I called because I don't want us working at the same school and not being able to be cordial to one another.”

“Well, we've done it this long. Why mess it up?”

“Paige,” he said, “I'm sorry. It was dumb of me to take you to my place and yes, I should've made you of aware of my sexuality.” He finished up. “I was selfish and wanted to have my cake and eat it too. I wasn't thinking of anyone but me. If we can't be friends, then I at least want you to know that I am truly sorry.”

“Thank you, Doran.” I faked a smile. “By the way, while I have you on the line, I'm working on a story for the school's paper, and I have a question for you.” I did, and I dragged it up from the pits of hell. “What pleases you most about sucking dick?”

“Writing a story for the school paper, huh?” he asked, unmoved.

“You think it's
too deep
for the paper? Well, I have another idea.” I was enjoying myself. “How about fliers posted around the school early one morning before the students arrive?” I was too legit to quit. “I don't accept your a-fuckin'-pology, and I don't want to be your friend.”

“You inconsiderate bitch.” His words shocked me, but not as much as what followed. “What pleases me about sucking a man's dick is probably what pleases you about fucking an eighteen-year-old boy.”

The tables had turned faster than the speed of light. “What?” I shrieked.

“You wanna play hard ball?” he yelled. “Let's go. Let's fuckin' go.”

“Making up shit? Wow, you really need to get a life.” I tried to make light of it.

“No, you need to get one. I followed you home back in November after a game, hoping to apologize to you,” Doran said, “and lo and behold, Mr. Three-Pointer himself was in your driveway with an overnight bag, and his car was there all night long.” He then asked, “Remember that?”

“No,” I lied.

“I know about you.” He laughed. “What do you have to say about that?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” I denied his claims.

“Theodore Lakewood,” he spelled it out more, “your student, and the collector of detentions. I know what's going on between the two of you.”

“Wow, that's a pretty interesting rumor.”

“Is it? Is it?” he asked. “Well, let's see how that'll do on fliers posted around the school.”

I was embarrassed. “You won't—”

He interrupted me. “Paige, I honestly hadn't planned on telling anyone about you. However, the minute anything about my lifestyle leaks out, your reputation and your job are history,” he said and hung up.

“Shit!” I screamed. “Shit, shit, shit!” Pissed off at the world, I pulled back onto the street and drove home as though I had road rage against the road.

Once in the house, I paced the floor, extremely worried. So far, two people, two of the last people in the world I wanted knowing my business, knew all of the gory details. I looked in the mirror in search of a solution to my problem. Was I desperate or falling in love? Was Theo really interested? For all I knew, I could be his sugar momma, the foolish older lady, so frantic for attention that she was willing to do for him like she had for no one else.

I picked up the phone and dialed.

“Are you all right?” my mother asked in a worried tone like most would after receiving a call at almost midnight.

“Not really,” I answered.

“What's wrong?” She went on, “I told you not to mess around with your breasts, letting them cut you here and there. I told—”

“I'm physically fine, Ma. I just have a lot on my mind.” I sighed. “I needed someone to talk to.”

“Like what? What's bothering you?” She continued. “You not thinking about doing anything crazy, are you?”

“No.” I laughed. “I'm not sitting here with a gun, a knife, or a bottle of pills. I'm just in a situation, and the only way to avoid it is to get out of it.” I paused. “And I just can't see myself doing that.”

“If it's costing you pain, sweetie, then you better.”

“But it's not,” I tried to explain. “The root of the problem is also the root of my happiness. At the same time, if I let go of it, all of my problems would be solved.”

She asked, “You not on something, are you?”

“What?”

“Drugs? That's what it sounds like.”

“Ma, I'm not on drugs.” It was almost funny. “I can't believe you would think that.” Getting off of drugs would be ten times easier than asking that boy not to call me or come over anymore.

“So, what are you talking about?”

I contemplated telling her. “Nothing.”

“No, something is bothering you. Now, tell me what it is,” she demanded.

I sighed and thought about it. “I'm seeing this guy.” I confessed that much. “He's a lot different than any other man I've ever dated, and because of that, I can't tell anyone about him.”

“Is he married?”

I rolled my eyes. “Now, you know I don't play that game.”

“Oh, 'cause I was about to let you have it,” she said. “What? Is he white or something?”

“No.” If that were my only problem, I would just take him to a tanning salon.

“Is he a hermaphrodite?”

“Hermaphro-who? No, Ma!” I shouted. “Where did you get that from?”

She giggled. “Baby, those are the only three things I wouldn't want for you.” She explained, “A married man, because what God joined together, let no man put asunder.” She paused. “Now, I'm no racist, but I don't want you with a white man because when you piss him off he might mistakenly call you a nigger, and I'd have to jump off in his ass, 'cause ain't nobody gon' think they better than my flesh and blood.” She paused again. “Finally, I want you to hurry up and have some grandbabies, or at least one. So, although God made them, too, I can't have you with a hermaphrodite.”

“Ma, you have issues.” I laughed.

“I'm serious, Paige. Other than those three, you can bring anybody home to us.”

“How about a crack head?”

“Yep, just call before y'all come so that I can hide all my good stuff.” She chuckled heavily.

“I wish it was that easy,” I said.

“Paige, you only live once. You're not living for people. It's your life. Do with it as you like. This isn't one of those stupid Hollywood movies either, where when you die you get sent back to make your wrongs right, or for a little extra time with the people you care about.” She added, “If he makes you happy, then to hell with what others say.”

I sat silently a while. “Thank you.”

“I don't need you down there in Florida fretting about anything.” She added, “This is going to worry me.”

“No, Ma.” I continued. “I don't need you up there in Minnesota fretting about me. I'll be fine.”

“You sure?” she asked.

“Positive.”

We talked more about everything from recipes to the city renaming one of the main highways after Ronald Reagan. “Child, please,” was my comment. When we hung up, it was after two in the morning on the East Coast and my bed was calling me. Though I answered it by resting my head on the pillow, I really wanted to call Theo. However, so that he would believe that I had a life outside of him, I told him that I was going to a club and probably wouldn't be home until late. The last time I checked, Applebee's didn't have a dance floor, and though the music streaming out of the speaker was oftentimes too loud, they didn't have a DJ either.