The Blackbirds (5 page)

“Slow your roll. Don't put down a broom and expect me to jump over it just yet.”

They laughed.

Kwanzaa asked, “Does he know what went down and how you handled it?”

Destiny twisted her lips. “Not yet. Like I said, he knows me as Kismet Kellogg. It's hard to tell how much of my past I should reveal, and when, or even if I should ever bring that incident up again.”

Ericka nodded. “Don't blame yourself for what others did to you.”

“I never imagined I would ever let a man touch me again after that.”

Indigo ranted, “Fuck them all. Fuck the judge. Fuck the court system.”

Ericka sighed. “They blamed the victim. It's the way they blame the rioters for the riots, but never acknowledge the conditions that led to the riots. People don't riot for the hell of it and you didn't do what you did for the fun of it. The courts did you wrong. The law reads the same to all, but is not distributed evenly and fairly. You had extenuating circumstances in your case.”

Destiny said, “Ericka, let's not beat a dead horse. I need to put that behind me.”

“The courts don't see black people as humans, only as animals. You're a brave woman, Destiny. I never would've had the guts. I would've rolled into a ball and died.”

Indigo burbled, “If you had been a white woman, you would've been given the key to the city, taken to lunch by the governor, treated to Disneyland by a senator, picked up in Air Force One so you could shake the president's hand, dropped off in New York to sign a million-dollar book deal, then flown first-class back to L.A. for a bidding war to a movie about your life. So anyone who looks down their nose at you because you have brown skin, dick 'em with a dagger.”

Kwanzaa took over the conversation. “So, you're seeing someone. You have a bae.”

“Kwanzaa, with all you were going through, I didn't want to bring it up.”

“I'm miserable and you didn't want to tap-dance in the place happy.”

“Well, yeah.”

“It would've been like blowing an air horn at a funeral.”

They laughed.

Kwanzaa said, “Don't worry about me, Destiny. I want to know all about the guy. I can be unhappy for me and happy for you at the same time, because you know I'm good at multitasking.”

Destiny smiled. “I'm really digging this guy. He's smart, handsome, and lots of fun to be around. Not looking for a husband or anything. I'm just enjoying myself. I'm finally dating. Feels good to kick it with
a man and . . . and . . . being—
feeling—
like a normal woman feels for a change.”

Ericka said, “You deserve some love. You had a six-year gap between . . .”

“It's okay for us to say it. I was raped. I was drugged, raped, and videotaped. I'm just glad they didn't have smartphones. Every bitch at the party would have recorded the crime.”

“Didn't mean to— Wasn't trying to take you back down that ugly road. I was thinking about the last couple of guys you tried to date. Neither one of those were worth a cold cup of coffee.”

Destiny said, “It had been a long time since I was awake and voluntarily had sex with a man. It's really exciting to know I have a guy I can go kick it with, talk with, watch sci-fi stuff on television with, and just have sex with, or make love with, or whatever we're doing.”

Ericka said, “It's called fornicating. If he puts it inside of any hole, you're fornicating.”

Kwanzaa smiled. “Glad you met someone new, Destiny. You're my favorite geek. Somebody needs to be happy. Keep it covered and hope he's not as trifling as Marcus Brixton.”

Ericka added, “Or my ex-husband. You have no idea what preachers' wives go through. Too many see him as a second-tier deity and want to have a child of God. But this is about you.”

Destiny said, “Really didn't expect it to last this long, but I've met his best friend, and we've had double dates. So not only have I lied to him, but I have also lied to his best friend and his friend's girlfriend, or jump off, or whatever she is.”

Indigo asked, “Have you met his family?”

“No, not yet. I keep making up excuses to not meet them. I don't want to keep lying.”

“Every lie takes you away from truth. You're digging a deep hole.”

“I know. I have callused hands from digging. It's stressful, keeping the lie. Now I will have to call a group meeting and tell him and his best friend and his buddy's girl about . . . you know.”

“What's his name? We need names to make sure we never bump heads or get played.”

“Hakeem Mitchell. Graduated from Crenshaw High and went to Cal State Northridge.”

“Hakeem? Is he Muslim?”

“Nah. Nondenominational.”

Ericka groaned. “Oh, boy. And which church does Hakeem attend?”

“He's not at your ex-husband's church. He goes to Agape by the Fox Hills Mall. He asked me to go with him, but I can't. I take the helmet off and someone might recognize me.”

Ericka nodded. “That's your fear. Public humiliation, in front of him and his family.”

“I can imagine people coming over to me calling Destiny, or asking if I am ‘
that monster
.'”

Ericka agreed. “That would be a scary moment. Pretending to be Kismet, then outted as being her synonym, in the house of the Lord.”

Destiny said, “Would be hard to lie on sacred grounds.”

“Wasn't for my ex-husband. Wasn't for his flock of mistresses either.”

Destiny hummed. “Would hate to turn my back for a second, then for someone to walk up and tell Hakeem my name and past, before I told him myself. Then everyone would start throwing holy water on me and hope I'd burn like the wicked witch in
The Wizard of Oz
.”

“She melted.”

“Whatever.”

“But they would want you to burn.”

They laughed, all except Indigo.

Ericka said, “Glad you have a bit of sense of humor about it.”

Indigo said, “You shouldn't have to hide the parts of you that you feel are broken because you think someone is incapable of loving you as is. No one is perfect. No one.”

“I don't need a lecture right now, okay? People have made me feel unwanted, sad, depressed, and guilty. I'm in university. I'm late getting started, but I'm there, taking a full load. My dad is ill. I'm working hard day and night to pay my bills. And now I have found a moment of happiness. I need this right now. Don't ask me to be like you, Indigo. My life has never been like yours and it never will be. Let me be me.
This is me right now.
This is as strong as I am right now. Just be happy for me.”

Indigo said, “Why didn't you just tell the man your real name? People are either going to accept you or not. End of damn story.”

Destiny shook her head. “What I went through, it's not something that's easy to bring up. With most of these guys, you get more respect or empathy points if you say you had cancer.”

Ericka shook her head. “Not always. People tend to think you're the walking dead.”

“Oops, sorry. I didn't mean to trivialize what you went through. My dad has cancer now, and I just spoke too fast, without thinking, like I do most of the time.”

Kwanzaa asked Destiny, “How is your dad doing?”

“He said that some nights it feels like he's in a house filled with fire and smoke and there are no windows, no doors. I can't imagine being that miserable, a prisoner inside of my body.”

Ericka said, “Your body turns on itself. There is a civil war going on inside of you. You're trapped on the battlefield between disease and medicine, and there is no escape.”

Kwanzaa said, “That sounds horrible. My grandparents died from cancer. My dad went through a lot.”

Ericka said, “When you love someone, you go through what they go through. Having cancer showed me what my marriage was made of. Showed me even though we filed joint income taxes, I was in that marriage alone. He wanted no part of the disease or the suffering.”

Destiny said, “Thanks for dropping off my dad's meds last week, if I didn't thank you.”

Indigo said, “This is going to blow up in your face.
Ka-boom
. You hear me?
Ka-boom
.”

“Whatever.” Destiny took a breath. “Give me your cell phones so I can become your female James Van Der Zee once again. All of y'all need to get on the same side.”

Kwanzaa, Ericka, and Indigo slid Destiny their phones.

Kwanzaa said, “What about you, Ericka? I know you've been lying.”

“Lying about what?”

“I don't believe you're celibate. I bet you're seeing one of the teachers at your job, or messing around with one of the parents. You're
sneaky, and sneaky people are the freakiest. We just found out Baby Face Jones has been getting some almost every night, what about you?”

Destiny laughed. “What are you, the neighborhood vulva monitor? Get off our areolas. And I'm not having sex every damn night.”

Indigo said, “Don't make my birthday sad and say you have a secret lover too, Ericka.”

“Do you have to always be a hater and have to outdo everyone at everything, Indigo?”

“
Yes
. But I'm an achiever, not a hater. Everything I do should both inspire and motivate you. Watch me and learn to do better.”

Destiny and Kwanzaa mocked Indigo's accent and sent playful boos her way.

Indigo chuckled and splayed her fingers at both of them. “
Ma ba mi soro
.”

An older guy, a man who was at least eighty and using a walker, stopped by to pay them a compliment, said it was like seeing Mariah Carey, Janet Jackson, Lupita Amondi Nyong'o, and Iman Mohamed Abdulmajid breaking bread at the same table. Indigo was impressed that the man could both remember and pronounce African names. He told them he had traveled around the world, but had never seen women as beautiful as the four of them. He said they were all fine as wine and he would like to take them for a ride on a private plane so he could sixty-nine them one by one. In harsh whispers, Destiny, Indigo, and Kwanzaa cursed the disrespectful old man out.

Kwanzaa cursed him in Spanish.

Destiny snapped, “
What de rasshole
. I'm young enough to be your great-granddaughter.”

Indigo said things of equal disgust in Yorùbá.

Ericka added enough profanity to almost give the ancient freak a heart attack.

They finished breakfast at CJ's, marched toward the parking lot venting and complaining about pathetic Bozo-the-Clown-looking octogenarians on walkers offering women oral sex.

They climbed on iron horses, revved engines, sped in the traffic on La Brea.

As Destiny and Indigo whipped their CBRs through traffic, Kwanzaa and Ericka their passengers, horns blew, the sounds of men flirting and fantasizing about taming a biker girl and making her just another pregnant woman driving in a four-wheel cage. Fifteen minutes later they were inside the Promenade at Howard Hughes Center at Happy Nails and Spa, all side by side in spa chairs, magazines in their laps as Vietnamese women gave them luxury spa manicures and pedicures before starting on their European facials.

Destiny said, “The magazine I'm reading says most women fantasize about a three-way.”

Indigo said, “Then you need to stop reading that magazine.”

Kwanzaa said, “I've fantasized about that.”

“No, you haven't.”

“Depends on the dudes. Or the dude and the girl. Depends.”

“No, you wouldn't.”

“Do you think I'm that boring?”

At the same time Ericka, Indigo, and Destiny said, “Yes.”

Kwanzaa laughed. “It's on my bucket list.”

Indigo said, “At the bottom. Under the bucket. And then you'd have to dig ten feet.”

Ericka asked, “Since we're doing girl confessions, and I know my husband did at least one while we were married, which one of you sneaky freaks has actually done a three-way?”

No hands went up; they looked at each other, wondering, waiting, and anticipating.

Kwanzaa asked, “Okay, who has had a one-off?”

Ericka groaned.

Destiny said, “No, you did not have a one-off. You're my saint. You were a preacher's wife. You used to be my babysitter. I look up to you. Please, please, please, don't let me down.”

Ericka groaned again. “I had a moment and gave a stranger five seconds of summer.”

“When you were married?”

“Nah. Before I married. I was out of the country. Met an exotic man.”

Kwanzaa, Indigo, and Destiny harassed Ericka until she started to talk.

Ericka told them the one-off had happened when she had gone to Buenos Aires when she was twenty-one, fresh out of university, right before she had met her ex-husband. She arrived there on a Monday, had eaten a steak empanada and gone to an Internet café in the affluent section of the city named Recoleta, an area that was as busy as Times Square, with miles of shopping. She was having trouble with the keyboards because they were configured for Spanish and South America. This local guy had come to help her, an Argentinian who was about twenty, a few inches taller than her, hazel eyes, soccer player legs, and Channing Tatum's abs. They walked through the Recoleta cemetery, saw Eva Perón's tomb, had lunch at McDonald's, browsed a bookstore, went to the movie theater, went to Floralis Genérica, then kept strolling down Libertador Avenue, passing embassies, and sight-seeing in the cultural center of the city.

Kwanzaa said, “Will you just get to the good part?”

Indigo said, “Let her tell her story.”

Ericka told her girls that they ended up near the zoo, but didn't go
inside. Ericka said that by then the jet lag had kicked in, so she told her new friend that she was tired, did that more with body language than actual words, and he escorted her back to her hotel. He held her hand the entire way. He was attracted to her, and she was attracted to him. It was strange being attracted to a stranger, a man she knew nothing about. She had never been with a non-American. The mystery was the attraction. She had never been with a man who wasn't categorically black. She was in a place she couldn't be judged. Back at her hotel room, they made out, then showered together. He went down on her, and she regretted all the years she had spent learning everything but Spanish as a second language. He didn't speak much English. And the middle school and high school Spanish she had learned sounded nothing like the Spanish he spoke. But they met in the middle and worked it out.

Ericka said, “Don't judge me. I was barely twenty-one. I was supposed to explore life and love. We spend most of our lives trying to figure out who we want to be when we grow up.”

Indigo said, “Same day you met him you had a one-off?”

“Two hours nonstop, then a short layover, followed by another hour flight.”

Destiny said, “That was slutty.”

“Good and slutty. He started with the tongue, and ended with the tongue. His tongue wrote the sweetest essay, was as detailed as a dissertation.”

Kwanzaa asked, “Why didn't you bring your
se habla español
marathon man back to California? I bet you and him could've made some real pretty babies.
Porteños
are mad sexy.”

“It was what it was, nothing more. It was amazing. Was being wild and carefree.”

Destiny asked, “You used condoms?”

“Of course. And was still nervous and had myself tested when I made it back home. I had wanted to go to a clinic there, but I was too ashamed to be an American getting tested for STDs.”

Indigo asked, “You go down on him?”

“While he had a condom on. I did a little somethin'-somethin'.”

Indigo said, “Smart girl.”

“Now. I've confessed. Don't judge me. Let's move on to the next girl confession.”

Indigo laughed. “This is fun. Finding out how freaky my friends really are sure is fun.”

Ericka said, “This magazine says that at least one out of four women has had some sort of same-sex sexual experience. I know I haven't. Which one of you chicas have? 'Fess up.”

Destiny, Kwanzaa, and Indigo shifted in discomfort, but no one answered.

Ericka repeated, “C'mon now. Nobody? Really? Not one of you had at least a girl kiss?”

They laughed as massage chairs hummed and kneaded backs and spines.

Indigo took a deep breath and said, “Dammit. That question, of all questions. Really? I mean freakin' really?”

Ericka leaned forward. “You're joking. Indigo, you? You're the one out of four?”

Destiny stared at Indigo's expression. “Oh, my God. She's dead serious.”

Kwanzaa stopped blinking. “No way, Little Miss Africa. You were with a woman for real?”

Indigo sighed. “I hate this game. Dammit. Yes. I went somewhere over the rainbow.”

Kwanzaa shifted. “Look at the hypocrite. This is about to get real interesting.”

Destiny asked, “Why haven't you ever mentioned that you're bisexual before?”

Ericka wanted to know, “How many times?”

Indigo answered, “
Twice
. Not bisexual. Crept over the rainbow and hurried back home to Auntie Em. No place like home. Now will you nosey bimbos calm down and get your nails done?”

Destiny said, “We need a better word than
bimbos
. Bimbos are stupid bitches.”

Kwanzaa asked, “Were you in Oz for two days, or two times, or for two orgasms? How was sharing key lime pies? Did it turn into a pie-eating contest? Don't get quiet now, birthday girl.”

Indigo hummed. “Well, I tried to get all oral the first time.”

Kwanzaa scrunched. “Yuck. Coochies are ugly.”

Destiny laughed. “Mine isn't. Yours might be atrocious, but mine is awesome. Hakeem Mitchell told me mine looked and tasted so good it he wished he could give it five stars on Yelp.”

Ericka asked Indigo, “You liked going down on her? What was that like for you?”

Indigo said, “It was a long time ago. She liked me, wanted me like that, and I guess I was being nosey and wanted to see what the hoopla was all about. I mean, all these parades and the two doctors on
Grey's Anatomy
made being with a girl look like it was so yummy. I see it on television all the time, they have women with women almost on every show nowadays. I mean, there are more gay people on television than black people, so it was in my brain and I guess I started to wonder if all that was worth marching for. She had a boyfriend and her child lived with the father. She's married now, matter of fact. I ran into her and her husband not long ago when I was shopping at Sprouts. We didn't say anything about it. Just said hi and bye and kept it moving. Her husband doesn't know, and as far as I know she doesn't go there anymore. She was gentle in everything she did,
until
the strap-on.”

At the same time Ericka and Kwanzaa said, “Strap-on?”

Destiny said, “
Damn
. You took that to another level.”

Rapid questions came from Destiny, Kwanzaa, and Ericka.

Indigo snapped, “Dammit, be quiet and let me tell the whole damn story.
Uninterrupted
. Geesh. It was her idea, but I didn't have any objections. She was attracted to me. She asked me out on a date and took me to the Lobster restaurant in Santa Monica. It was so damn strange letting a girl take me out, but I went. We went out to dinner one night and then went back to her house. She took the lead and did everything. She started touching my nipples and sucking them. I tried to fight it, but her touch was feeling good. It took twenty minutes of her touching and pulling my nipples before I reached over and started sucking her nipples. We ended up in the bathroom, in the shower. She made me stand with my legs spread open and she got down on her knees. The shower had six showerheads and she knew how to use those things very well.
Her wickedness. She sucked my breasts and put a showerhead down there, and that did it for me. I closed my eyes, and pretended a man was doing it, but her touch was different. A woman knows a woman better than a man, I can tell you that. Most guys I've dated have had beards or stubble. She was smooth. So, we did it that one time, and I thought that was that, but a week later she sent me a text and asked me if I was free for dinner again. She sent me a winky face. The winky face made me smile. So, we went out to the Lobster again, sat and talked normally, as if we had never been intimate, and after, I went over to her house again. The moment we got in the door, she was touching me, kissing me, on her knees. This time she had bought an African porn DVD, a strap-on, and liquor. I thought we were just going to touch each other like before, and she'd use her mouth, then we'd do that scissor thing again. I can't believe I'm telling you this. I could go to jail for this. My mother and father would beat me like I was in
Twelve Years a Slave
.”

Indigo stopped talking, twisted her lips, shifted side to side, sighed, closed her eyes.

Ericka, Kwanzaa, and Destiny waited.

A second later, Indigo continued. “I guess being with a tall woman was her ultimate fantasy. She admired Nigerian women. It was her strong desire to be with a Nigerian woman. So, that night she wanted to role-play, wear a strap-on and imagine she was a guy, and she wanted to pretend she was a guy doing a sexy girl and get into some headboard banging, hair pulling, sweaty, sloppy, neighbors-writing-hate-notes kind of sex. I didn't like what she did.”

Kwanzaa mumbled, “Jesus.”

Destiny shushed Kwanzaa.

Ericka shushed Destiny, then said, “What did she do that you didn't like, Indigo?”

Indigo took a breath. “Okay. Well. She was doing it to me doggie-style, which was fine because that way I couldn't see her and imagined she was a man, despite her small hands on my waist, but she got aggressive and started twisting me and turning me and the positions got to be too much. It was a like a gym workout. She kept asking if the wood was good, so I started making all kinds of fake noises like it was the best fake
penis I'd ever had. She kept asking me if I liked her big fat dick. She wanted me to give head to that thing. She had lost her mind. I was done. I was just in it for the tongue. Then I showered and left. We never discussed it. We ran into each other in Manhattan Beach a few times, even talked on the phone once or twice. Then a long time went by before I ran into her at Sprouts. We barely chatted. It's like it never happened.”

Kwanzaa asked, “Someone we know?”

Indigo said, “No one present, if that's what you're asking indirectly, Kwanzaa.”

“Just asking.”

“What did she look like?”

“She looks like a mixture of Zadie Smith and Leona Lewis, to be honest.”

Kwanzaa said, “Wow. I bet y'all could've made some pretty babies. People would have thought you were the dark-skinned nanny, but those babies would have had some good hair.”

The girls laughed.

Ericka asked, “How did that even happen?”

Indigo said, “We met at the Barnes and Noble in Manhattan Beach, by chance. I used to hang out there. She heard my accent, and then I heard hers, and we both talked about our countries, and Africa in general, how we wished all the nations were united, and Africa would rule the world. So, we talked literature, politics, and we talked Africa.”

“She's Nigerian too?”

“She's African, and that is all I will say. I will not name her country. She is brilliant. She knew things I have yet to learn, and as we sat in the coffee shop, she seduced me with her intelligence. I could tell then she was being more than the normal friendly. It was cute. It scared me too. She was so much like the woman I want to be when I am older. Her wanting me, I think that turned me on. A woman excited me. I'm so over that.”

Kwanzaa and Ericka stared at her, stunned by the admission.

Ericka asked, “Are you telling the truth, or is this one of your jokes?”

Destiny said, “That rodeo show Indigo described sounds about right, Ericka.”

Kwanzaa groaned. “You too? Is that also included in your catalog of depravity?”

Ericka asked, “Destiny, child, are we running at fifty percent on that pop quiz?”

“Did you see me waving my hand in the air? No, you did not. Indigo is the one of four.”

“Then how would you know what
sounds
right?”