The List (4 page)

I stepped into the hallway, coughing. Erika looked up from her desk. I was sure I looked crazy—tears flowing from my eyes, stooped over wheezing, trying to get some fresh air.

She came running over and pounded me on the back. “What's wrong with you?”

I waved her away. “I'm fine,” I gasped.

“You're not fine. Are you choking on a peppermint? Do I need to do the Heimlich?”

“Really, I'm okay.” I tried to stand up and look normal. I took a deep breath and set off another coughing fit.

Erika took me by the arm and headed toward my office. I was creating a stir in the hallway.

“No,” I croaked.

She stepped inside and attempted to pull me in. Instantly, her eyes started watering, and she started coughing. “What the . . . ?”

We both stumbled back into the hallway, in coughing fits.

“Why did you”—Erika's question was cut off by a cough. “Why in the world would you”—She coughed again.

I shook my head, not even trying to answer.

She walked toward the break room and waved for me to follow. When we got there, she grabbed a cup and filled it with water. She handed it to me, then poured another. We both drank. The coughing died down.

“Why in the world did you empty a can of air freshener in your office?” Erika looked around and leaned in close to whisper. “You had a bean burrito for breakfast again?”

I laughed. “No, silly.” I took a big sip of water, crumpled my cup and threw it away. I walked back toward my office to avoid answering her question. But before I got out the door, I knew I was busted.

“Oh,” I heard her exclaim. “Oh, uh-huh. I get it.”

As I walked down the hallway, Erika broke into song again.
“Dum da da dum. Dum da da dum.”

Somehow I knew that stupid song would be in my head the rest of the day, as would the nagging thought—Jason Hampton was single and available.

A
ngela, Lisa, Nicole, and Vanessa sat around the table staring at me, waiting for me to spill it. My stupid list.

We were at Nicole's for girls' night. Her luxury penthouse condo in Buckhead pretty much said everything one needed to know about her. The two-bedroom palace felt like something a celebrity should live in. High ceilings, hardwood floors, a small, sexy kitchen with stainless steel appliances, granite counter tops and recessed lighting made us feel like we were cosmopolitan girls in a scene from
Sex and the City
. We crowded around her small breakfast table.

Nicole never cooked. She always picked up something from one of her “she-she-pooh-pooh” restaurants with elegantly named foods that exercised the taste buds, things like goat cheese and sun-dried tomatoes, and spices like rosemary, dill, and cilantro.

Nicole set out some glasses and pulled a bottle of San Pellegrino out of the refrigerator. I frowned. I knew it was supposed to be chic and all, but I never understood why she paid so much money for some sour-tasting fizzy water.

Angela poured herself a glass and squeezed a lemon wedge into it. Lisa did the same. I gave Nicole a look, and she pulled me a bottle of Dasani out of the refrigerator. Vanessa held out her hand, indicating that she wanted one, too.

“Well,” Lisa said, “tell us about Mr. Wonderful.”

All eyes were on me. I felt ridiculous, but I knew they weren't going to let me out of it.

I flapped my piece of paper and cleared my throat. “To begin with, the essential must-have's.” I twisted the cap off my water and scanned my short list. “He has to be a man of God, completely submitted to God, in love with God and all about God. I think that shrinks my choices to a very small pool right from the jump.”

Vanessa frowned. I couldn't tell if she disagreed with my statement, or whether she didn't like the appetizer tray Nicole placed on the table. “I wouldn't say that. There're plenty of godly men out there.” She looked over at Lisa. “And they're not all married.” She looked at me again. “Remember, let's not be negative about this.”

I nodded. “Okay, number two—he needs to be financially stable. He doesn't have to be rich or anything, although I wouldn't send him packing if he was. But he
has
to be able to manage finances. Third, he has to be a good father to his kids or potential father to my future kids.”

Lisa's eyes widened. “You'd marry a man that already has kids?”

“Uh, yeah. I'm trying to be realistic. I'm thirty-five years old. I'm not sure of the likelihood of me finding a man without kids.”

“Yeah, but you're supposed to be putting what you want, not what you'd put up with because you think you'd have to.”

I thought for a minute. “I love kids, though. I feel crazy that I don't already have some. So, if he has some, that would be okay with me.”

Lisa shook her head and gave me a look of pity. “Clearly you've never dated a man with kids. You wouldn't be saying that if you'd ever dealt with some crazy baby mama drama.” She looked around the table for someone to agree with her.

Angela was her usual quiet self, and sat munching on one of the funny-looking appetizers from the tray. Vanessa shrugged like she had no idea what Lisa was talking about.

Nicole shrugged too. “I've dated men with kids. Let me remember.” She scrunched her eyebrows and thought for a moment. “None of them had full custody. One of them had a cool relationship with his child's mother, so it was never an issue. Wait a minute—they were too cool, and it was an issue, because they ended up getting back together.” Nicole frowned. “And the other, his ex-wife had moved out to California, so he didn't get to see his kids often.”

Lisa grabbed a couple of appetizers from the tray. “All I'm saying is I've dealt with enough baby mama drama and bad Bebe kids that my list requires that a man have no children.”

We all looked at Lisa like she was crazy.

“No children? As in, kids are a deal-breaker?” Vanessa asked.

She nodded.

“Ummm, Lisa, you're thirty-eight years old,” I said. “What are the chances?”

“It's possible. Look, I believe in telling God what I want, then trusting Him to bring it.” She folded her arms resolutely, as if there were no further discussion on the issue.

Nicole rolled her eyes. “I thought Michelle had a disconnect with reality. Anyway, Michelle, how many kids would you put up with?”

Vanessa frowned.

I shrugged. “I don't know. I'm guessing no more than two. Or if they're grown and gone, he can have as many children as he wants. Or if he's a great guy with three well-behaved children, I could see dealing with that. It depends on the situation.”

“Okay, that's fair. What else?” Vanessa asked.

I had tried to wait, but I was starving. I picked up an appetizer—a weird, triangle-shaped, breaded thing with some type of filling. “He has to be intelligent, so we can have great engaging conversations.” I took a bite. Wasn't bad. Tasted like teriyaki something.

“College-educated, professional degree?” Angela finally joined in the conversation.

“Uh, I guess. I mean, I would think he would need a college degree to be intelligent enough to keep up with me.”

“What if he didn't, though? What if he never went to college, but is a smart guy who reads books all the time, and learned everything in the school of hard knocks?” Angela leaned forward, as if challenging me with the question.

“I never thought of that,” I said. “I guess I wouldn't require a college degree, if he was smart enough.”

“Are you sure about that? Like, would you date a bus driver or a cook or construction worker?”

I always wondered what made Angela decide to talk. She'd sit silent for up to an hour sometimes then, suddenly, something would interest her and she'd come from that private little world of hers and become totally engaged.

“Sure. As long as he's intelligent, well-rounded, and godly.”

“Yeah, right.” Lisa gave me that look of hers again. “You would date a construction worker? You would date a man that makes less money than you?”

All of us stared at Lisa. I said, “Ummm, yeah. Once again, I'm trying to be realistic. I make a nice bit of money and plan on making much more. It's possible that I'll make more than him. As long as he's not insecure and can handle it, I'm cool.”

Lisa shook her head. “Call me old-fashioned. I think a man should make more money than a woman.”

Nicole opened her mouth with disbelief. She started to say something, but then shook her head.

“What?” Lisa asked, as if she didn't sound completely ridiculous.

Vanessa looked at Lisa as if she had new understanding about her singlehood. “What else, Michelle?”

“That's about it. I'm not too hard to please,” I said in Lisa's direction.

“That's all?” Nicole asked. “What does Mr. Right look like?”

I shrugged. “I don't know. I'm not particular about looks. It's more of what's on the inside of a man that matters to me.”

Nicole chuckled. “Really, now?”

“Yeah. I mean, he should be pretty all right-looking, I guess. I can't see finding a perfect man who's godly, intelligent, financially stable and great father material and rejecting him because he might have a few extra pounds around his waist or because he doesn't look like Taye Diggs.”

Vanessa nibbled on a teriyaki triangle and then said, “So if he was three inches shorter than you and weighed four hundred pounds, you'd love him just the same?”

I winced. “Uh, I guess.”

Angela broke her silence again. “That's what you think now—that you're not shallow enough to be concerned about a guy's looks. Just wait until you date someone and he's not the cutest in the world. All of a sudden, everyone else will look cute and sexy, and he'll look uglier and uglier to you.”

Everyone turned to look at Angela.

“What? I'm being honest. I know I'm not the prettiest girl in the world and don't have the most outgoing personality, but still, I want a guy that I find attractive. He may not be a model, but
I
need to think he's cute.”

Vanessa put on her concerned therapist face. “You don't think you're pretty, Angela?”

“I don't have a Halle Berry face and Beyoncé body like Nicole. And I don't have perfect skin, a great smile and exciting hair like Michelle. And I'm certainly not a model like Lisa. Like Michelle said, I'm trying to be realistic. A guy I can pull won't be as cute as what any of them could pull.”

Now we all had concerned looks on our faces.

“Angela, you're pretty. What are you talking about?” Nicole looked almost disgusted.

“Yeah. Okay. Let's face it. I'm a pretty nerd,” Angela said.

“Well, there has got to be some fine nerds out there. We'll just have to find you one.” Nicole leaned over and hugged Angela.

Angela laughed and pushed Nicole away. “A fine nerd?” She thought about it for a second. “Okay, I could do that.”

We all laughed.

“Well, I ain't gon' lie.” Lisa put her hands on her hips. “I want me a fine man. He has to be at least six-three, athletic and chiseled, great face, nice skin, nice hair or shiny bald. We'll be one of those stunning couples with beautiful children.”

“How deep does the rabbit hole go, Alice?” Nicole asked Lisa.

“Huh?”

“This wonderland of yours. No
wonder
it's been nine years.”

Lisa's eyes widened. She looked as if Nicole had slapped her. Funny how none of the rest of us reprimanded Nicole. It was another one of those times when she said what everyone else was thinking.

“I guess I'm an equal opportunist when it comes to men,” I said. “I like them in all shapes, sizes, and colors. Just as long as he feels like God to me.”

“Feels like God?” Angela asked.

“Yeah.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “Whenever I spend time with God, He feels so sweet. I can feel how much He loves me. I always tell God I want Him to break off a piece of Himself and come down here and marry me.”

Nicole looked at me like she had looked at Lisa only minutes before. “Ummm, Jesus already came and died, and unless you're buying that ‘DaVinci Code' mess, he didn't have a wife and kids.

“I don't mean Jesus Himself. I'm just saying, someone who's so full of the Spirit of God, who has died to himself and let Jesus take over—so much so that he feels like God. He'll love me like God loves me. I hope I'm not sounding like Lisa, but I don't think that's too much to ask. Is it?”

Everyone sat silent for a few minutes, pondering my words.

Vanessa finally answered. “I know what you mean. That's how Michael was. When he held me in his arms and told me how much he loved me and would never let anything happen to me or the kids, or when he would wake me up with sweet kisses every morning, telling me how beautiful I was and how blessed he was to have me as his wife . . . I always felt like God had sent a part of Himself to earth to love me.” Vanessa sighed. “It's not too much to ask, sweetie. In fact, make sure you hold out for that. That kind of love is the most precious thing on earth, and everyone should get to taste it. Even if only for a little while.”

Nicole arose and slid into the seat next to Vanessa. She took her hand in hers and squeezed it tight. Vanessa laid her head on Nicole's shoulder. Angela took Vanessa's other hand and held it.

The room was silent. We could almost feel Vanessa's pain, raw and hollow, hanging in the air.

Vanessa sat up. “Lisa, you know I love you. But I think you should let go of this ideal man you've got made up in your head. I know God is a miracle worker, but what you're asking for isn't realistic. He sounds like something in a book or in the movies. You have to be willing to accept a man with flaws who may not look perfect, be rich, and have no children or issues from previous relationships. I think Michelle has the right idea in looking first and foremost for him to have the heart of God.”

Vanessa turned to me. “Michelle, I think you've got a great start on your list, but it's missing some things. I guess you'll fill things in as you go, but try to be open and not rule out guys in five minutes. You may have great instincts, but you have to be careful about underlying internal stuff, like fear making you reject someone before you even give them a chance.”

She turned to Angela. “And you, my sweet beautiful Angela, I want you to look in the mirror every morning and tell yourself how beautiful you are until you believe it. From this point on, you're not allowed to say anything bad about yourself or compare yourself to anyone in this room or on television or anywhere else. Okay?”

Angela nodded. “Okay.”

Vanessa turned to Nicole. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Underneath that tough, raw, honest, blunt exterior of yours, you are one of the most loving people I know. Are you gonna keep that all for yourself and us?”

Nicole shifted in her seat. “I . . . I'm just . . . I've just been . . . I don't know.”

Vanessa squeezed her hand. “I know you think you're a strong, independent black woman who doesn't need a man, but what about some man out there that needs you—his helpmate? Loving, strong Nicole, who won't pull any punches, will always tell him the truth, but will love him so much, he'll believe he can take over the world. Think of what you're depriving some wonderful man of. Just because you're afraid of being hurt again.”