Love Won't Let Me Wait Page 10

  The slim, feminine mannered cashier rolled his eyes at me as he walked over to the register. He sucked his teeth and pounded the register keys to ring up my items. I think he was pissed off at me for interrupting his phone conversation.

  The water, Tylenol, and rose came up to six dollars and 59 cents. I offered up a ten-dollar bill, which he promptly snatched from my hand. I started thinking: do I know this bitch from somewhere? Please don’t have this dude make me beat his ass up in here tonight. I kept my cool. He dropped my change on the counter, swished back over to the phone, and continued his loud conversation. He kept rolling his tongue on the roof of his mouth, making this annoying smacking sound, and started every other sentence with “girrll,” drawing out the r and l. I stood at the counter and stared at him. He took the phone from his ear and smothered the mouthpiece into his shirt.

  “Did you want something else?” He asked with animated annoyance. I maintained eye contact and responded with calm.

  “A bag would be nice.” I picked up the rose, brought it to my nose, closed my eyes, and inhaled the sweet fragrance it offered.

  He sucked his teeth and exhaled. He brought the phone back up to his mouth and yelled into the receiver. “Hold on!” Then he sashayed back to the counter, reached underneath and pulled out a small brown paper bag. He snatched the bottle of water off of the counter and dropped it into the bag. I looked up at him. He looked back at me and continued with his angry routine. “Something wrong?” He asked, rolling his neck as he talked.

  “Yeah, could I have a plastic bag please?” My request set him off. He ripped the paper bag down the side and slammed the bottle of water on the counter. I smiled and continued sniffing the rose. Reaching under the counter he snatched a handful of plastic bags off the rack, separated one from the pack and threw the rest on the floor. I again closed my eyes, inhaling the sweet aroma deep into my senses. The cashier rubbed the edges of the bag to create separation, and then threw the Tylenol to the bottom of the bag. Next came the water, it hit the counter with a thud. He grabbed the bag by the handles and held it out to me. I was deliberately slow in taking it from his hands.

  “Thank you,” I offered with indignance. He turned, sucked his teeth and walked away.

  “You’re welcome,” he returned picking up the phone. I turned to exit the store. I could hear the loud pulsating signal that alerts you when the phone has been left off the hook. I guess the person on the other end had tired of holding. The cashier threw a hissy-fit and slammed the phone onto the base.

  I walked over to the magazine rack near the exit and picked up a Sports Illustrated. I glanced over at the cashier. He was glaring at me. The phone rang and he snatched the receiver from the base and answered. I turned and started through the automatic doors. I could still hear him making that nasty smacking sound as the doors shut behind me.

  I climbed into my Jeep and headed out of the parking lot. I got a hearty laugh thinking about my experience with the guy in the store. What was with all the attitude homeboy was giving me? All pissed off at me for requiring him to do his job and ring up my items. Sure, I antagonized him some, but he started with the attitude as soon as I walked into the store. I laughed all the way to Shannon’s.

  I arrived at Shannon’s condo and parked in the handicapped space right in front of the stairway leading up to her apartment. Jeff the guy who used to live below Shannon is a paraplegic. He moved out about three months prior so I wasn’t worried about inconveniencing him. But there was still the threat of getting a ticket, or worse having my truck towed.

  I climbed the stairs and peeked through the semi-open blinds into her living room. Shannon was curled up on her sofa her pink comforter pulled snug under her chin. I tapped on the glass with my keys. Shannon didn’t stir an inch. She had given me a key to her apartment a couple of weeks prior but I’d never used it, and didn’t plan to now She claimed to have given it to me to avert having to climb out of bed every time I decided to drop by in the wee hours of the morning.

  Shannon is a heavy sleeper and I always wound up standing at the door knocking for ten minutes before she finally heard me. I however believed her motivation to be of a different genus. I hypothesized her motive for giving me the key was an expectation of my handing her a key to my place in return. Women are sneaky like that. Even the simplest gesture has a greater underlying purpose. Be scheming like a mug. I wasn’t about to fall for that shit though. I don’t give a damn how long I have to stand out in front of her apartment knocking; I’m not using that damn key.

  I don’t have anything to hide, but I don’t like the idea of any female having free access to my crib. That’s the last bastion of my independence and I am not ready to give that up just yet. Standing out in front of her apartment in the cold, heat, rain, or snow at four or five in the morning waiting for her to open the door is a small price to pay for my privacy.

  I knocked on the door for about five minutes before Shannon finally heard me. She dragged herself off of the couch and wobbled over to the door. She opened the door, turned and started walking towards the bedroom, slow and unbalanced, all the while rubbing her eyes. I shut the door behind me and turned the knob on the deadbolt. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a tall, thin glass from the cupboard. Then I removed the cap from the bottle of Dasani water and poured it into the glass.

  I walked over to the sink and filled the plastic water bottle halfway with water, placed the rose in it, and set it on the counter. I tore open the package of Tylenol and popped them both into my mouth, picked up the glass of water and drank a mouthful. After washing down the aspirin I began making my way towards the bedroom all the while continuing to sip water from the glass.

  Shannon was already back in la-la land when I entered the room. I set the glass of water on the nightstand next to the left side of the bed where I always slept, stripped down to my boxers, and slung my slacks and shirt over my forearm. In the closet, I put them neatly on a hanger right above my shoes and grabbed a towel off the top shelf.

  After taking a quick shower, I slid under the covers and snuggled up to Shannon. I reached around her and placed my hand on her stomach. Sleep came a calling, and I was more than happy to oblige.

  In the middle of my sleep, I was abruptly awakened by Shannon’s home phone ringing off the hook. I let it ring a few times expecting Shannon to hear it and pick up. After about the sixth ring, I reached over and shook her. She rolled out from underneath me, reached over at the nightstand and fumbled around on top of it before finally finding the phone. She answered with a scolding hello.

  As the person on the other end spoke up, Shannon’s voice became hushed. A fragile whimper searching for the reassurance of privacy. She kept whining to the person on the other end repeatedly declaring that she was sleeping and in no state to converse. I rolled over and turned my back to her. I glanced over at the alarm clock; it was five-fifty a.m. I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

  It felt as if I had been asleep for less than five minutes before I was jarred awake by Shannon’s phone again ringing in my ears. I glanced at the clock; it was six twenty-seven a.m. I sat up in the bed. What kind of jerk thinks it appropriate to repeatedly call another person at six in the morning on a Sunday? An obviously clueless jerk with no consternation about interrupting the sleep of their suffering target. Damn, can a brother get some rest?

  Shannon pulled the covers back and sat up in the bed. I got up and walked into the bathroom. I lifted the toilet seat just as Shannon was picking up the phone. I reached over and shut the bathroom door. When I was finished, I washed my hands and splashed a handful of water in my face. Then I grabbed my towel of the rack on the back of the door and dried off. I stepped out of the bathroom feeling a couple of liters lighter.

  Just outside the bathroom doorway I stopped and stretched. Shannon glanced over her shoulder at me. She stood up and turned to face me. There was an uneasy look in her eyes. She then sat down on the edge of the bed with her back to me and continued her w
hispered conversation. I grabbed a q-tip from the dresser top and walked back to the bed.

  I sat on the bed with my back pressed against the headboard and the covers pulled up to the mid-point of my chest. I reached over and began to rub Shannon’s shoulder. The counter clockwise rotation of the q-tip in my ear was soothing. I closed my eyes. Shannon abruptly stood up and walked out of the bedroom into the living room.

  I opened my eyes and studied her. Her conversation seemed to be increasing in intensity. She paced from one end of the living room to the next as she talked. Every so often, on one of her trips across the living room she would switch the cordless from one ear to the next.

  I began to wonder if Shannon had been confronted with some crisis. Maybe something had happened back in Baltimore. Shannon’s mother has high blood pressure and was periodically ill as a result. I recall her telling me that her grandmother and one of her aunts died of breast cancer.

  In the midst of my thoughts, on one of her trips across the living room, Shannon noticed the rose sitting in the plastic water bottle on the counter. She walked over to the counter, picked it up, drew in and released. With that breath came a temporary reprieve from her tension filled demeanor. She turned and looked back at me seated on the bed. Her tense face eased into a smile. I smiled back, and for a brief moment I felt relief. Felt like everything was okay. But as quickly as it appeared her smile returned to a worried frown. She placed the rose back into the bottle and continued her endless pacing of the floor.

  I threw the q-tip into the wastebasket near the nightstand and rolled onto my side, adjusted the pillow under my head and closed my eyes.

  I felt Shannon ease into the bed behind me. I turned over and glanced at the clock, seven fifty-one a.m. She lay with her back towards me. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

  “Baby, is everything okay?” Shannon didn’t answer. “Shannon, who was that?” Shannon rolled onto her back and slid her fingers through her matted hair.

  “Everything is okay, just some stuff with my family.” Shannon’s reply was filled with anxiety just like everything else with her as of late.

  “Well what’s going on?” Shannon seemed to be searching for a response.

  “Shay and her boyfriend got into a big fight last night.”

  “Is she okay?” I propped myself up on one elbow. Shannon seemed to relax some.

  “Yeah, she’s alright. That was my mother all excited blowing stuff out of proportion as usual.” As Shannon began to relax, I did as well.

  “Well, what happened?”

  “I don’t know, ma was all hysterical, I’ll have to find out from Shay. But from what I gathered from moms; Shay went over to his apartment and found him there with his ex. One thing led to another and Shay got into it with the girl. Momma said something about Shay biting the girl in the face.” Shannon said with a giggle. I lay back in the bed.

  Shannon’s younger sister Shay is one of those chicks you do not want to piss off. In the more than seven months I have been dating Shannon, I have personally seen her whip ass on more than a few occasions. One time she beat this dude down outside a club in Baltimore. The guy was all embarrassed making excuses and talking about how his momma raised him not to hit women. Now how is he going to say some shit like that when he got a couple of solid blows in during the fight. Shay ate those licks and kept on digging off in his ass. That shit was funny as hell. It was supposedly something about him grabbing the butt of the chick Shay was with.

  Now I always thought Shay was into the same gender thing but Shannon says she’s not. “She just think she hard,” is how Shannon would describe her. “Trying to be a thug.” And since she has that boyfriend, I figured Shannon must be right. Then again she could be bisexual.

  “Man, your sister is one mean chick,” I told Shannon. She giggled in agreement. “Remind me never to screw you over. I don’t need Shay leading the Mahoney posse down from Baltimore looking to lynch my ass.” Shannon laughed and rolled over next to me, her body meshed with mine. I closed my eyes and sleep was even better to me.

  I awoke to the alluring smell of breakfast drifting in from the kitchen. I sat up in the bed and stretched. I could see Shannon busy over the stove through the partially open bedroom door. I smiled at the satisfying rear view. Shannon’s purple nightgown rode her curves like the ocean rides the California coastline.

  I climbed out of bed and walked into the bathroom. After brushing my teeth, I walked out into the kitchen, crept up behind Shannon and hugged her around the waist, my chin resting on her shoulder. She had pancakes, sausage, and grits happening. I could get used to mornings like this. I smiled at the thought.

  “What are you smiling at?” My smile broadened. “Damn, you’re in a good mood this morning. What’s that all about?” I didn’t respond. I kissed her on the cheek and walked into the living room. I plopped down on the sofa and picked up the television remote. Should be a game or two on. Twelve-thirty, Sunday afternoon in the middle of November is prime time for NFL football.

  The Fox Pre-Game Show was on screen when Shannon walked over to me carrying a plate of food in one hand and a glass of apple juice in the other. Damn, this is the type of treatment cats would kill for. No way in hell I was going to let Shannon get away. Not a chance.

  “Well damn, Kalem, you’re still over here cheesing. What’s got you all happy this morning?” I took the plate from her hand and set it on the end table. I led Shannon by the hand around the sofa and sat her down on my lap. She gave me a confused stare.

  “You’re not going to flip-flop on me are you?” I asked.

  “What? Flip-flop how?”

  “Ah come on now, don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” Shannon laughed. She placed her free hand on her chest.

  “Really, I don’t. I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “You know how you women do.”

  “No, I don’t, tell me, how do we do?” I took the glass of juice from her hand and placed it on the table next to the plate of food.

  “Okay…so you meet a woman and start dating her, and for the first couple of months everything is perfect. They will pull out all the stops for you. Breakfast in bed, bomb sex, massages, all that fly shit. Then as soon as they get you hooked they flip-flop on you. No more breakfast in bed, sex is straight up missionary. Every now and then she’ll throw you a bone and get on top. From the back is out of the question and of course if you even think about asking for some oral…just don’t. You might as well call her momma a bitch. Either way you are asking for an ass whipping.” Shannon burst out laughing. I continued.

  “Of course she is going to expect you to keep going downtown, but don’t expect her to reciprocate. That’s not right!” Shannon continued laughing. She buried her head into my chest. “See that’s why you’re laughing. You know that I’m telling the truth.” Shannon sat up and shook her head in denial.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah right.”

  “Well I haven’t flipped or flip-flopped or whatever you call it, on you have I?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Well then, stop complaining and enjoy it.”

  “You haven’t flip-flopped yet but that doesn’t mean anything. You might still have some issues.”

  “You and your theories. What issues are you talking about?”

  “The women who don’t flip-flop on you usually have some other bullshit going on.”

  “What are you talking about? What other stuff do we have going?”

  “It’s like this. Anytime you have a seemingly perfect girl, and six, seven months go by without her flip-flopping on you, you better watch your back.”

  “Oh, really,” Shannon chuckled.

  “Yep.” “I know what I’m talking about.” Shannon laughed again.

  “Well enlighten me, Dr. Love. Since you are such an expert on relationships, why don’t you impart your knowledge to me?” I ignored her sarcasm.

  “It’s lik
e this,” I started. “If your girl flip-flops on you, you get to see the real her. Then you can make an informed decision about whether you want to stick it out or bounce. The sooner she flip-flops the better. But the ones that seem all perfect, now those are the ones you have to look out for. Those are the ones that have secret lives, like a husband and kids back home, or I used to be a man type shit.” Shannon bent over laughing. She clutched her stomach for support. Her laughter egged me on. “They’re the type that’ll drop some shit on you like I’m pregnant, for your best friend.” As soon as I said it I wished I could take it back. The laughter in the room died instantly. Shannon sat up on my lap, reached over and picked up my plate. She turned and handed it to me, then stood up and adjusted her nightgown.

  “Your food is getting cold; you better hurry up and eat it.” I struggled to think of a way to reclaim the jovial mood that preceded my aberrant statement without letting on that I knew about her being pregnant. The burn of regret lingered long after the last word rolled off of my imprudent tongue.

  “Hey, baby, did I say something to upset-”

  “No.” Shannon interrupted. She half-heartedly smiled before walking towards the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to talk about it right now okay.”

  “Shannon, if there is something you want to, or we need to talk about its okay. I can handle whatever it is.” I hadn’t planned on discussing her pregnancy right then, but I figured it was as good a time as any. Shannon leaned on the counter contemplating my proposal. She seemed about ready to respond when her phone rang. Goddamn, what’s up with all the phone calls?

  Shannon looked at me for a second before grabbing the phone off of the wall in the kitchen just to the right of her head. She said hello, walked to the back end of the kitchen, stretching the phone cord to the limit, and leaned against the door to the pantry.

  I turned and picked up my food. The grits were as cold as a plate of crushed ice. I stood up and walked over to the microwave in the kitchen. As I neared I heard Shannon whisper into the handset. Then she abruptly walked back to the counter and put the phone on the base. I started to inquire about who was on the other end of the line but changed my mind. None of my business I reasoned. I placed the plate in the microwave and set the timer for a minute and thirty seconds. I turned and faced Shannon.