Authors: Anita Doreen Diggs

The Other Side Of the Game (7 page)

BOOK: The Other Side Of the Game

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Chapter 16

ASHA

S
aundra came over after work. Although we both have pretty faces, looking at the two of us, no one would guess we were sisters. She is tall and dark skinned and while I prefer my sleek page boy hairstyle, she wears hers in shoulder length dreadlocks. But it is the way she dresses that makes me want to run screaming from the room. If she isn't draped in a caftan with clogs on her feet, it is handmade dashikis with sandals or boots.

As she walked into my apartment, the foreign scent she was wearing threatened to overwhelm me.

My nose wrinkled. “What kind of perfume is that?”

“It's cocoa-mango oil.”

She sat Indian style on the floor and gave me a beatific smile. It was the kind of grin usually seen on the faces of Moonies, Branch Davidians or other cultists. While I dashed around getting rid of my work gear, she just sat there totally absorbed in knitting something. The needles clicked and some green yarn slowly coiled itself out of her huge handbag. The work caused her many silver bangles to jingle. The folds of her long black cape formed a beautiful umbrella around her and was the perfect base for a forest green and yellow dashiki that she proudly wore with an elaborate matching headwrap. When I dropped my briefcase on the sofa, she lifted her head and exposed her gorgeous set of straight white teeth in a one hundred-watt smile.

“What's up, girl?”

“Randy bought me a dog.”

“Aw, that's nice; where is it?”

“I locked him in the bathroom.”

“All day? That's horrible!”

“Whatever. That mutt is not tearing up all my shit.”

“You're awful.”

When I opened the bathroom door, a series of weak yelps indicated my pet had anxiously awaited my arrival.

Saundra immediately snatched him. “He's so cuuute! What's his name?”

“I don't know.”

“You gotta give him a name,” Saundra declared. “Look at him . . . he's so precious.”

“You think of a name while I feed him.”

When Saundra gets around animals, she goes nuts. Her house is a combination of Noah's Ark and the botanical fucking gardens.

I couldn't help but smile at the puppy as he scampered around anticipating his meal. “How about Sparky?”

“That's too hard. I want something soft and feminine.”

“But it's a boy dog, Asha.”

“I don't care. I've just decided that his name is Peaches.”

Saundra's mouth twisted in disapproval.

I decided to change the subject. “What are we having for dinner tonight?” I asked.

“Indian, Thai? . . .”

“Chinese. Let me wash up first.”

“Can we go to West Fourth Street first?”

I'd been expecting that request. “No.”

While I practically live at Bloomingdale's, Saundra always wants to go poking around in some seedy little thrift shops. The girl lives for grandma-length skirts, foreign textiles and eccentric jewelry. It's amazing that just six years ago she used to be a miniskirt and leather pants-wearing club kid who didn't give a damn about anything except having fun. Now she's a spiritually conscious vegan with ancient words of wisdom constantly dripping from her lips.

After showering, I jumped into a pair of tight fitting boot cut jeans and my favorite clingy maroon sweater. I walked back into the living room to put on my boots and was appalled to find Peaches on the couch resting near Saundra.

“What the hell . . . get off the couch!” I screamed and gestured at the scared pooch.

He hopped down and looked at me with confusion.

I saw Saundra's mouth turning down at the corners and I wasn't in the mood for a goddamn PETA speech when this fleabag was on my nice leather couch.

“That was completely unnecessary. He wasn't hurting the couch,” she said, snapping her fingers for Peaches to come over to her.

“Whatever. Let's go,” I snapped.

“Asha, can I ask you a question?”

I rolled my eyes in frustration because I didn't want my treatment of Peaches to become the subject of the evening. “What?”

“Did you put those jeans on with a spray gun?” She laughed.

“You're so silly.”

We decided to go to a nice restaurant around the corner from my house.

A couple laughing softly, holding hands and a couple of drunk Mexicans leaving the billiards room were the only people who gave the block life. Next to the Chinese restaurant it was the opposite. A noisy crowd of people was standing on line waiting to get into a karaoke bar next door and some teenagers with a boombox stood in front of a rollerblade shop blasting techno.

To our relief, as soon as the glass doors of the restaurant closed behind us, the noise vanished, leaving us peacefully to the light tinkle of traditional Chinese music. We were greeted cordially by a tiny woman with a short haircut and escorted to a small red booth by the window. The restaurant was dimly lit, warm, and practically empty except for the oil paintings of magnificent pagodas and bronze life-sized statues of ancient Chinese gods.

Saundra and I caught up on three weeks worth of gossip while we ate. As I sipped my tea, I noticed twinkles of mirth in Saundra's dark brown eyes.

“What's on your mind?”

“I'm thinking about how you're using that poor man.”

“Randy?”

“Duh, yes, Randy,” she said, badly imitating my soft voice with her deep one.

“I don't
use
anybody. I can't help it if men give me things because of the way I look.”

“You know you don't care about them but you'll take and take and take. Have you no conscience at all?” Saundra asked as if we hadn't had this dialogue half a dozen times already.

“No, I don't rob or steal. They like giving me things.”

“They're giving you those things in the hope of a commitment.”

“That's not true in every case. Brent is a married man and Randall would have to be out of his mind to think that I'd be willing to walk into a lifetime of money worries just because he can screw.”

“What about Nick?”

I shrugged. “Nick has promised me a beach house. I'll decide what to do about him after I get it.”

“You are a walking karma time bomb, you know that.”

“Whatever.”

I took another sip of my tea and looked at Saundra's soft dark face. It had that
I'm warning you
look on it that she always gave me whenever she saw disaster. Her long ebony locks grazed her shoulders like beautiful threads of yarn. The small silver nose ring and her sterling hoops glimmered with every flicker of the red candle on the table. I decided to speak first so she wouldn't think her threat shook me.

“So how're Phil and Evelyn?”

“They're fine. She still wants to get married but Daddy says that my wedding is enough for him to think about right now.”

“How long does she plan to wait? It's been six years and every year Phil comes up with another excuse. She needs to kick his ass to the curb.”

“I know.”

“Your father is not the type to change without a kick in the ass.”

“You got that right,” Saundra answered dryly. “He's a stereotypical cop, content with coffee and donuts.”

“Phil is built like a tank. It's hard to believe he eats so much junk food,” I observed.

“He works hard enough to keep in shape, waking me up with that damn NordicFlex machine.”

I daydreamed for a moment about Phil's wonderful body and the crush I used to have on him in high school. He has the most amazing chest, with big muscles and sexy, deep-chocolate skin. When I used to visit Saundra, the highlight was seeing her father in his gray sweatpants lifting his weights, occasionally pouring water over his bald head to keep cool.

“Asha, I need you to help me plan the wedding. Yero and I are going to choose the place but I need a woman's help with all the other stuff.”

“What about Evelyn?”

“I want my sister.”

She gave me a loving smile and it felt so good that tears pricked the back of my eyelids.

“I want you to be my maid of honor, too. Will you?”

I patted her hand. “Of course, baby.”

Maid of honor! I'd have to buy a fabulous dress. Nothing off the rack. It would have to be couture. Who was going to come up with the two or three grand? Brent or Nick?

I was snatched back to reality by a pint-sized waiter shoving a menu in my face.

“I don't need a menu, thanks. I'll have the sweet and sour chicken with white rice,” I said, handing it back to him.

“What about your dress?”

“I'm cool. I started sketching some designs for my wedding dress yesterday.”

“Lemme guess. It's gonna be made of recycled burlap, a mosquito net for a veil and you'll carry a broccoli stalk bouquet?”

“Oh, you're funny, Ms. Armani. I don't think it'll be that haute couture.”

The waiter was looking impatient. “Would you like something to eat, miss?” he asked eagerly, turning to Saundra.

“I'm not sure yet, let me see . . .” Saundra trailed off, wrinkling her forehead in concentration. God does that get on my damn nerves. What the hell is she thinking about! She doesn't
eat
anything. The only choice she can make is to have her seaweed baked or fried.

“I think I'll go with the mixed vegetables, brown rice, and a spring roll without the shrimp.” She smiled.

“Why do you do that?” I asked.

“What?”

“You study the menu,
knowing
you're only going to eat vegetables, anyway.”

Saundra was exasperated. “I've told you that I'm not going to eat anything that has a face or a spirit. But I still like to know how my vegetables are going to be prepared, so I study the menu.” She sighed heavily.

Saundra and I are not as close as we used to be. This type of shit is the reason why.

Chapter 17

SAUNDRA

T
here's just something about peppermint soap and lavender oil that soothes the soul. The fallen leaves were rustling around outside as I soaked in the bathtub and it reminded me that we would all be turning our watches back in only a week. Soon it would be Halloween. Asha would need me then because it was the one day of the year she found hard to get through. Every trick-or-treater reminded her of the fetus who died six years ago. It was the day her demons danced.

Did Mama do the right thing?

Abortion, except in the case of rape or incest, is wrong. But I understand Mama's fear. She was always preaching to us: Go to college, get established in a profession before you get married, don't depend on the state, relatives or anyone else for money, and never have a baby until your act is together and the foundation of your life is strong. Mama was deathly afraid that one or both of us would turn out like her.

The funny thing is that if mama was alive now, she would be proud of me for earning a bachelor's degree, hate my holistic lifestyle and call me a fool for not chasing the almighty dollar.

Asha has some education, a good job and money in the bank plus her friend Nick took her to a Caribbean resort last week. She called me to say that the place boasted a European spa, golf, scuba diving and eleven gourmet restaurants.

Her cell phone broke a few weeks ago and Brent bought her a new one that makes mine look like a tin can. She said it is a Samsung A670 with both digital and video cameras plus high speed Internet access.

Asha has light skin, a tiny body and small bones just like Mama, but if she were alive, Mama wouldn't approve of Asha, either. The fact that Asha plans to stay single for the rest of her life and never have children would sadden her.

Maybe we can never satisfy our parents.

For example, Daddy has never said a word against Yero and is always kind to him, but I have a sneaking suspicion that he would be happier if I were getting married to someone with a more traditional job. A lawyer, a doctor, or banker.

Maybe we just have to make ourselves happy and let the chips fall where they may.

“Saundra!”

It was Daddy, yelling from upstairs.

“What?”

“Can you come to the phone?”

“Who is it?”

“Yero.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“I'll be right down.”

I threw my robe on without bothering to dry off, ran down the stairs as fast as I could and picked up the receiver in the living room.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Saundra.” His voice sounded dull and tired.