Missed Anniversary..

Her legs were crossed indian style on her california king amidst the vast space of her downtown Boston condominium.  The tears that rolled her cheeks barely escaped soiling her lips and instead fell harmlessly to the pillow that she held onto tightly. Today was January 28, 2011. She would never forget it. This same date had life altering relevance 5 years ago. 

The memories never left her, nor did the box of pictures, letters and small artifacts that she collected leading up to that day. She never forgot the phone call that came in from the Boston Police Department. 

Eric was 24, vibrant, spontaneous, loving and all of the great traits anyone would search for in a fiancé. He embodied it all to Kenya. The police sheriff described him in a slightly different light. The shoot out he was involved with 3 hours prior to the phone call laid out a scene of horror, anger, and mischief. Even the local news department didn’t use the most flattering words. She remembered watching channel 4 the next morning and reading the words “Homicide Avenue” burned across the screen, describing the very street she lived on. The report said that a young man, named Eric Sampson, or as the streets called him, E- Class, had murdered four people, including a child in cold blood before later being shot by police as he attempted to flee.

She didn’t care about their portrayal. To Kenya, he’d always be her E bear.

It always seemed to rain on January 28. Today was no different. Moving on was difficult. The first three years were nearly unbearable. Eventually the tears went from hourly to daily. Daily to Weekly. Weekly to Monthly. Monthly to annually.

Dave helped.

His arrival in her life couldn’t have come at a better time. As a level headed family man, he didn’t provide the same dramas that Eric did. He was a welcome change.

He strolled through the bedroom door after a hard day at the job. The Chinese food he picked up on the way home saved Kenya from having to cook a meal. His smile went from wide to tight in seconds, filled with concern. He dashed over to her and nearly spilled his food in the process.

“You Ok, baby? What’s goin' on?” he asked, genuine worry filled him throat.

“Nothing.” She replied. Her answer was harsh. Short. Curt.

His eyes led him to the box. The various pictures from the small photo booths throughout Boston were scattered across the bed. Eric’s hand written notes were opened and unfolded revealing a love that was supposed to last forever. The barrette Eric bought her with his last $5 sat untouched next to a stack of movie ticket stubs which were gently rubber banded together. The magazine that had wedding gowns circled and vacation trips planned went untouched and the mystery black 8mm videotape remained alone and nondescript.

The box of Kleenex stumbled to the floor as Dave stood up. It was a complete accident. Although not one he really regretted. He left it there on the floor as he walked back towards the kitchen. Suddenly the urge to eat and be with his woman changed.

If a woman can’t be completely with you on an emotional level, is she really with you? He wondered as the remote control rest in his hand. Atlanta Housewives lost some of its luster as he listened to her shed additional tears through the thin walls. His jacket wasn’t far away and with an anger building in his chest, neither was the local bar.

IS DAVE WRONG TO FEEL A CERTAIN WAY?

HOW LONG IS KENYA’S GRIEVING ACCEPTABLE?

Nevada Nightmare..

I’ve never been one to feel bad for people who do foolish things, whether to themselves or to others. Foolish is as foolish does. In the same sentence, selfish is as selfish does. Everyone is described by their actions.

So as I read a CNN report of “embattled” Councilwoman Donna Fairchild and the violent crime she committed, I could only see the selfishness in her, and likely in women as a whole.

Your wife always tells you, I’m sure that it’s better to do things together than alone.

Let’s go to the mall together, she likely says.

Let’s go visit my mother together, is what I’m sure she decrees.

Let’s go to the bank together to check our balance, she says just to remove you from whatever comforts you have found.

But our friend Donna here, takes that a bit further.

Beloved…. I’ll pause while you catch the sarcasm…. Councilwoman Fairchild decides that not only are the mall, bank, and heinous mother in-law visits joint ventures, but that death should be included in the list.

Police Chief, Douglas L Law. of the Mesquite, NV police department was called by Donna and informed that there was a murder suicide in her home. Of course, Donna didn’t mention that her husband, likely just after that visit to mothers, was laying on the floor with a bullet wound to his head courtesy of Donna herself who would soon after pull the gun on herself.

Motive?

How dare he not want to go to the mall together and watch me try on 13 pairs of shoes but buy none. How dare he want to only call the bank rather than take the 30 minute drive down and physically see a bank teller. How dare he complain about driving 6 hours to visit mother and then complain more when my mother offered him advice on how to live his life.

The audacity.

Wait, no. The article goes on to say that the embattled politician was under investigation for code of conduct violations for drum roll please…

..“filing the $94.60 mileage reimbursement request with the city for a January 4 Nevada Development Authority board meeting she allegedly did not attend”

According to an item on the council agenda.

Mileage reimbursement? Really?

I sometimes like to pause for dramatic effect, but it’s always lost on a blog.

So let me get this straight. Woman does wrong at work, thought she got away with it, got caught, had an emotionally jarring breakdown because of being caught, killed husband and then herself in that order.

Remind me again of the errors of the husband?

I remember, it was marrying a woman like Donna.

A woman who is selfish, as evidenced.

Crazy, as evidenced.

A manipulator, as evidenced.

Now tell me why a selfish, crazy, manipulative woman can possibly get married? Wait, sorry, it happens every day.

Find me ONE woman that doesn’t embody at least 2 of these 3 traits.

Don’t worry, I’m patient.

Until then, I hope the remaining members of this family wake up from their Nevada Nightmare.

Taken While Mistaken..

Their family living room was tattered and destroyed. The couch was flipped exposing its ugly underbelly and the beautiful family portraits which 20 minutes ago adorned the cream painted walls were now bunched in a corner as if they were yesterdays trash. The Comcast remotes were thrown against the wall and would never work again, while the house phone lay on the street corner after being thrown from a window. Doors were slammed and screaming commenced.

Arguing back and forth was futile Dwayne decided and kept quite as he began to reconfigure his dismantled living area.

Her voice could still be heard from the bedroom as she packed her bags.

“And I’ll tell you another thing, asshole. I’m not coming back this time. Don’t call me. Lose my number.”  Candace yelled out making sure the neighbors in their condo took notice.

Dwayne nodded his head and hoped she was telling the truth. He was tired of arguing. Them being separated was for the best. When it got to the point where you are fighting in this manner, and you don’t know what you did wrong, there was no way to go but down.

He ignored her voice which infuriated her even more.

She stormed out of the room dragging a Louie Vutton suitcase behind her.

“Why Dwayne?! Why?! You got me looking like a damn fool with these chicks!” she barked as she stood 3 feet away from him.”

“Yo, I don’t even know what you’re talkin about Candace. That’s real talk. But I ain't gonna sit here and argue with you. The neighbors will think we’re crazy.” He said in a calm voice which only added lighter fluid to her flame.

“You’re stupid and you think I'm stupid too. You know you had some bitch call you late last night! You was sleep and I just happened to hear your phone ringing in your jacket. I answer and the bitch was like “ Can I speak to Dwayne?! Speak to Dwayne for WHAT?! At 3:00a!??” her words were news to him.

He honestly didn’t hear the phone ring and certainly wasn’t messing around with anyone.

“Why are you going through my phone? Where is my phone?” She pulled it from her purse and threw it at him. His catch was miraculous and he quickly opened it to see a name that he recently added.

He looked back at Candace and back at his phone.

“Yo, you’re crazy. Regina?? This is my cousin! We just reconnected on Facebook. She lives in California which is why she called at that hour. There’s a time difference!” he responded honestly.

“Enough!” the tears of anger poured down her face as she stormed up against him inches from his face.

Everything happened so quickly.

The palm of her hand connected squarely against his jaw and rocked him back at least two feet.

The slaps continued and quickly transformed to punches.

He felt himself snap as he grabbed her by the throat and pushed her up against the wall. The colors changed in her face as the sirens pulled up, thanks to a neighbors call.

He released her and watched as she ran for the man dressed in a blue uniform. The man quickly reached for his handcuffs and headed for Dwayne.

The tears were enough but the pointing did more to convince the officers that she was a victim.

She smiled as he was pushed past her towards the squad car.

Who is the victim here? Was Dwayne wrong? What’s the public perception of a situation like this and is it the right one?

Support System..

He pushed away from the computer briskly as the frustration built on his face. The words weren’t coming together as he’d wished and he was certainly less than satisfied with the mixture of words which haphazardly designed the previously blank white page. The multitude of destroyed copies littered the floor beneath his feet and the third opened red bull can signified a long night ahead. His well lit apartment cast a great glow down upon his work station, but cast very few ideas.

Martha watched him pace around the room while she simultaneously watched the Heroes marathon playing in front of her on the large HDTV dangling from the wall. She tried to focus on her favorite characters movements as to not get overly involved in his project. His incessant pacing gradually and likely purposefully pulled him directly between she and the NBC series she’d been waiting weeks to see. The State Farm commercial caused her to speak as she dashed for a can of orange soda in the nearby kitchen.

“Something wrong, Ant?” she said, knowing the answer but trying steer clear of the conversation. She knew he wanted to discuss it.

“Well, now that you ask. There is. I just can’t piece this together. I’ve been struggling with it for weeks now.” He thought back to the novel he’d been working on and wanted it to be just perfect.

With the safety of the ceramic wall dividing she and Ant, she rolled her eyes with confidence. She opened her big mouth months ago in pushing him to try something that his heart desired. Although he had dreams of becoming a New York Times best seller, his writing ability didn’t match the ideas that filled his head. She strolled back around the corner, with a semi smile on her face.

“I was hoping maybe you can give me some inspiration or something, you know.” Ant wondered about his next steps. He’d always sought her tips to salvage his confidence in taking on this project. Months had gone by with very little to show, and his stronghold on fulfilling his secret life desire was waning.

With one eye focused on the commercials playing on network television, she dashed over to his computer and read the few words that were scattered on his page. Some levels of amazement set in as the words entered her thought process.

                               “ Jeremy was scared. He didn’t not know what he shoulda did and he didn’t know anybody that would help him. He needed help.

                                He jumped in his car and press the gas. The gas made his car go fast. The wind went into the car because the window was down.”

She wanted to smile at his amateurish attempt at novel hood, but forgot that she was part of the reason he’d entertained this idea in the first place.

Chase your dreams, she said. You can be anything you want, she said. Now she regretted even uttering the word, book.

“Honey this is great, keep up the good work.” She watched the smile come across his face, as she jumped back to the couch just in time to catch the next segment of her favorite show.

He pulled his chair back up to the desk and continued to write.

Can you positively support someone in a venture, that they are obviously not good at?

Who should take the burden to inform someone that what they want to do, they probably shouldn't?

Is Martha right in pushing him to write or should she have shut him down?

Celebrity Fit..

Antoinette sat on the couch repainting her nails as he strolled in with a large cheesy smile on his face. The crisp suit and tie Adrian wore hugged his body close and highlighted every amazing feature about him.

She could watch him all day. Just sit there and look at him and never move. He was her fantasy in every word. She loved that she could claim him as her own.

“Hey babes, what’s REALLY good!?” he was more than excited as he placed his briefcase down on the floor near the extra large plush couch.

“Nothing much Adrian, got off early, came home to catch Maury. Sounds like you had a good day. “ she replied as she stood up to kiss him on the cheek.

“Damn sure did!” he said as he pulled a bouquet of daisies from behind him.

“Happy Thursday” he said softly.

She jerked back in surprise.

“Wow, thanks babes. Now tell me what you want…” she replied.

“Why it gotta be all that?” he asked in a mock surprise.

“Cuz don’t nobody know you better than me.”

“Ok, well there is something HUGE that came up today. Peep game.” He sat her down and looked deep in her eyes. Every following statement was true from the heart and genuine.

“You know I love you right?”

Her eyebrow arched as she responded.

“Mmm Hmm.”

“Well I got tickets to a show tonight.  A play downtown.”

“Good news, babe. So what you don’t want me to go. It’s cool, I know you probably wanna go with you boy or something.” She said trying to be understanding.

“Nah nah, it’s not that. Well kind of . See, I won them from a radio show. It’s the show with Gabrielle Union and they said I get to meet her backstage!”

Her mind wandered as he spoke.

“Remember that conversation we had when we were first dating about what celebrity we’d LOVE to have sex with if the chance ever came up?”

She just looked at him.

“If that chance comes up, I wanna take advantage. Will you be mad about it? I mean it won’t be anything besides that. Just that.”

Her mouth creaked open as the words came from her heart.

What would your response be? Should he have even asked?

The Necessary Third Wheel...

He stood over her, with more than six inches to spare. His deep brown eyes bore down on her with an anger that she’d never witnessed from him before. Warren’s words were overflowing with pain. Oversaturated with heartache.  Kiana’s stance was firm, one that she couldn’t change. One that she wouldn’t change. Not for a man. Even if the man was as important to her as Warren was.

“You said you loved me, you said you cared about me” his words charged from his mouth like horses chasing a rabbit from a starting gate.

“You know I do.”

“Then what’s with the bull? Why do I have to keep seeing this dude around here.” His question was justified. Monte’s presence was daily. Whether it was Monte dropping Kiana off at home, or Monte picking her up for a meeting, or Monte meeting her at the local elementary school a few blocks away. It was guaranteed that they saw each other daily which certainly rubbed Warren the wrong way.

“We’ve been dating for 2 years now.” He continued “I’m sick and tired of these daily meetings with him. Obviously I know the situation between you two. Obviously I understand that he has to be around. But what about me! What’s obvious about me?!”

Kiana was caught between a rock and a hard place.

On one hand was the man she’d grown to love over the past 24 months. The man who’d been there for her when times were hard and life seemed uncertain. The only man who really seemed to even genuinely care for her. The wedding proposal two weeks ago was something she’d waited her entire life for and it was an eternal dream for her to be call Mrs. Warren Wallace.  His happiness was the second most important thing in her life.

The first was Kialana. The female that shared Kiana’s eyes, Kiana’s lips , Kiana’s large forehead, and most importantly, Kiana’s residence. This was the first time in her life where having an 8 year old daughter seemed to pose a problem in her relationship with Warren. Warren had done a masterful job of stepping in as Kialana surrogate father, in her real fathers absence.  Of course, now that her father, Monte was back and trying to make amends, someone would be left in the cold. The finger of isolation was beginning to be focused on Warren.

Monte fought valiantly with Kiana to be in his daughters life and when she finally agreed a burden was lifted from his shoulders. That same burden however was placed on Warren shoulders. Monte met with Kiana every day it seems, at least in Warrens’ eyes. Whether it was for doctors appointments, school meetings, park ventures, or random dinner requests, it was too constant for Warren’s liking.

His slid his coffee brown leather jacket over his large arms and headed for the front door. Kiana was left in his wake.

His last words were poignant before the door closed behind him.

“Eventually, you’re gonna have to choose. I can’t live like this. Either you’re my girl, or you’re his. Let me know.”

Is Warren wrong for feeling a way? Who is the Villain here?

Sexual Seconds

“I’m coming to you, man up. I wanna let you know the score.” Jerome said to Mike as they stood within feet of each other in the cramped living quarters.

A friendship for over twelve years had developed into more of a brotherhood, one that had never been challenged until just now.

“What’s the deal, homie?” Mike said, pouring a glass of orange juice and partially reading over the local sports page as the words came from Jerome’s mouth. Most of them were missed until the name, Miranda came out of his mouth.

“Wait, wait. What did you say?” Mike asked needing clarification.

“I’m saying I saw Miranda out at Slades the other night. We ended up having a few drinks and just talking. Nothing more happened. I know your history.” Jerome answered.

Mike thought back to the times where Miranda was more than just a small story. She was his life. His girlfriend for 18 heavenly months. The woman he’d dreamt of until his own discrepancies cost him her companionship.

“But ummm…. We been chatting, you know, via text, or whatever. And she wanted to go out, kick it, see that new flick with Johnny Depp, you know.”

Mike thought about the treachery that he felt in his soul. Was it really his place to speak on it? Words took on a life of their own.

“So what you gonna do?” he asked.

“Like I said, I wanted to come to you man to man. She’s a good chick. I wanna see where things can go, but I needed to check with you first, kinda for a peace of mind, so to speak.”

Mike thought about how the emotions in him were bubbling over a raging fire that could have only been lit by the devil himself. The answer in his soul was an obvious no. The audible version came out a little different.

“Yea man.” He forced a chuckle. “You know these birds, cuz. Plus you know how I do. I don’t remember em, I bend em back and dismember em.”

The dap they shared was enough to seal the situation.

The anger continued and Mike knew it was only a matter of time before their friendship, a brotherhood years in the making would never be the same.”

Is Mike right in his decision? What would you do?

Bachelor Party Tales

“So how was your night, Maurice” she quizzed me as the phone was pressed against my check, separating my skin from the pillow in which it was placed.

“Fine.” I tried to push out, my voice still raspy from the Hennessey shots from last night’s crazy bachelor party.

She wasn’t too happy about the people attending, and she’d be even less happy about the number of strippers that filled the room.

They certainly spent no expense, getting two strippers from every nationality to make sure the evening was unforgettable.

“Mmm Hmm,” she contended. “ I know it was for Tre, so I’m sure he had strippers in there.” She left the statement open ended hoping that I would offer information. I used the allotted time to clear my throat and try to determine what time of day it was.

“Well?” she questioned seconds later, realizing an answer wasn’t forthcoming.

“Well what?” I asked finally leaning and losing a breathe as my eyes focused on the ungodly hour of 10:00 am, knowing that I didn’t lay my head until 7:15 am this morning.

“Was there strippers there? You know I hate strippers and don’t get me started on the last time you were around strippers, and I almost had to cut a bitch.”

The answers filled my head like sand in a playground. Only one true answer would suffice this situation

“Nah, we was just sitting around playing cards.  Benny and them was bugged out, drunk and wildin’ out. Good time.”

My answer was a lie, true. The lap of my jeans still have an obvious evidence trail, not that she’d ever know.

No harm no foul.

So RR readers, is Maurice wrong? What would YOU have done?

Politics as Usual..

Of course by now, we’ve all heard of the John Edwards story and all of the fall out. A wife who has passed away, children in mourning and a husband without a wife. Of course by now, we’ve all created our own opinions. Of course by now, we can guess which side those opinions are swayed towards.

How about looking at life from a different perspective for once.

No. we are not John Edwards, the politician, supporter.
No. we are not John Edwards, decision maker, supporter.

We are however John Edwards, man in a relationship supporter.

Let’s look at some of the story. A man is in a relationship, fact. The woman that he is in a relationship with wasn’t attending to his needs, fact. Now, basic logic, regardless of creed, gender or preference is that if one is not happy in their relationship, they will assuredly find it elsewhere.

It’s no different than you at home. You’re not happy with the way your relationship has progressed. You’re not happy with the direction of the relationship. You’re not happy with the sex life of the current relationship. It’s only natural that you take a outward look at ways to be happy.

Sure, he may have been selfish.
Sure, his timing may be abhorrent.

But…

The obvious fact of the situation, is that he isn’t as big a villain as we’d like to make him out to be. He’s a man that made a bad decision at a bad time. Just like some of us have.


So I ask RR readers, what are your thoughts on this situation? Were his actions warranted?

CAUGHT

So I parked a block down near my neighbors house in a well thought out effort to surprise Natalie on a strange Wednesday night. Working overnight at the Downtown Post Office had left our relationship void of some much needed “us” time. 

Asking the boss for a night off was more of a requirement than a favor. He saw the stress in my eyes. It’s been building. The days of arguing and fighting over miniscule topics was getting to me in the worst way. He understood.

After punching out at 11:00p and stopping at the local liquor store to grab her favorite bottle of Moscato, I found myself standing in front of our wooden door fumbling with my keys by 11:40p. Hopefully her nightly schedule of Atlanta Celebrity Housewives at 11:30p held true, in which case she’d be sitting on the couch in the cherry silk bathrobe I got her for Valentine’s day two years expired.

The key burst through the lock and the air smelled of grapefruit juice and vanilla air freshener. Of course, her 4 inch heels were left haphazardly in the short walkway which led to the foyer. The beautiful butterscotch leather jacket was tossed recklessly over the chair back and her purse dangled harmlessly from the same chair. 

My eyes scoured the room and the fluorescent glow from the large HDTV informed me that in fact her show was televised and I was right on time. The back of her head peeked over our ridiculously tall couches and her flowing black ponytail dangled over the rear, unadvised of my presence. The volume was much too loud for my slight noises to be recognized. Her head titled back just a touch. Her mouth opened slightly as if life was moving in slow motion. Laughter must be forming I thought to myself as I watched her mannerisms.  I strolled forward in my blue and white one piece suit, dusted from the few hours I did put in at the office and as I reached her and stretched out my hand to touch the golden brown skin on her shoulder, I peered down.

The chocolate dude kneeling in front of her looked up at me, as if I didn’t belong here. As if I was in the wrong location. As if I was trespassing on his territory. Trespassing on his time.

The worlds pause button was enacted as the volume of ideas danced through my head like kids around a Christmas Tree. Their voices were audible. Faded. Garbled. Mangled, even. But definitely audible.

Natalie looked up with one word leaving her mouth.

“Baby?!”

So I ask RR readers, what are your thoughts on this type of situation? What was I to do?