“My name is Stanford. How do you do, Ms. Arleta? It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. You’re a pretty little thing,” he says with his eyes on me, and my stomach clenches as my appetite runs for the hills.
This roller coaster is going to be more emotional than the R&B classic suggests.
I have to agree with the statement that echoes in my mind because although my relationship with Rosetta isn’t romantic, it is a toxic love that often traps me in the ups and downs we’ve had over the years. The hostess calls out my last name, and I follow another server toward our designated table as my mind spins.
“So what’s new with you, Arleta dear? Are you dating? Mi amour and I have been together for, I don’t know, maybe three months or so, but things have been so refreshing,” Rosetta asks after countless seconds pass once we’re at our table.
“I-I uh.” I can’t land on a single thought to answer Rosetta’s inquiry, but it doesn’t seem to bother her as she continues talking about herself.
“No worries, child. It’s not important anyway. I have been enjoying showing mi amour this little city and where I used to go to find men. Thank goodness I had the sense to discard thosefools like old garbage.” Rosetta laughs, and the sound twists my stomach as a revelation hits me like a ton of bricks.
Oh my God! Is this what I’ve been doing to the men in my past? Or what I’m currently doing to Zakai? No. No. Please, God. I want love. Jesus! I choose love. I can’t—I can’t become Rosetta.
“Earth to Arleta. It’s rude to sit here like a bump on a log,” Rosetta says, and a wave of nausea hits me as I grip my stomach.
“I uh—I’m sorry, I’m not feeling well. C-can we re-mm-reschedule for another day?” My words are choppy as my stomach clenches and aches with a vengeance.
“Oh no, child. I only have this point in time. But go on because I don’t want me and my man catching whatever you have.” Rosetta frowns while her hand shoos me like a fly.
“Right. Uh, have the day you deserve, Rosetta,” I say and practically trip over my feet to exit the table and make quick work of getting out of dodge.
I almost rip my driver’s door off the hinge when I reach my car and climb inside. I exit the spot in shambles as a steady stream of water flows down my cheeks. My destination is straightforward and routine as I steer my car toward the place I always rely on to pull me out of whatever fog I find myself in. The little bit of liquor I had did nothing to consume or buffer the many darts that hit me in a short time. I need Aunt Emmy because I don’t want to be like Rosetta.
Fifteen minutes later, I walk into Aunt Emmy’s house and nearly fall into her lap with tears on a steady flow down my face. Today, she doesn’t have to pry anything out of me as my words flow like a waterfall.
“I just left Rosetta, and I need you to pray because I can’t be like her, Aunt Emmy. Please pray. Please,” I sob.
“Shh, Bunny. I have been praying since I knew the meeting was going to happen. Now, tell me what happened.”
For the next minute, I run down what took place with Rosetta and every emotion I currently feel. Once again, Rosetta has drained me, but I know that after this reset with Aunt Emmy, things can only get better.
“Areyou sure you want to keep Kiki that long?”
Ma’s lip curls, and her right hand rests on her waist as she holds Kiki’s hand with her left.
“Boy, if you don’t hug and kiss your baby so we can be on our way, I’m gonna know something.”
“Bye, Daddy. Luh you,” Kiki says before I have a chance to respond to Ma’s directive. Her free hand waves, and her smile is wide, which brightens her face and pulls at my heartstrings.
“Wow. You leaving me, Kiki?” I poke my lip out, and my traitor of a daughter laughs while she bobs her head up and down. “Okay. I love you too. Be good for Mimi and Poppie.”
“I will.”
I step out of the way after giving Kiki a hug and kiss before Ma escorts her out the door. The minute the door closes, silence echoes around the house like a sheet of ice that blankets a tree after a snowstorm. Now that Kiki has left, my mind returns to the woman who I hope will reach out to me. I let Caziya know that I’m here whenever she needs or wants me, but right now, I think that isn’t going to come any time soon. I have never dealt with a woman with the familial damage and issues that Caziya has, so I’m unsure what else I can do for her.
What happened to Mr. Spontaneity, you mentioned being for another woman? Why haven’t you taken time to show Caziya beyond texts and calls that you’re here for her?
“Damn.” The statements that hit my mind have me ready to kick my own ass because I have failed the woman I claim holds my heart.
Although I have sent several messages and made various calls, I have yet to let my words translate into action. But other thoughts enter my mind, and I nod in agreement because it’s the truth of what I feel.
You can’t do for Caziya what you did for someone else. Showing versus telling can only be done when the woman hasn’t gone radio silent and demanding space.
“How long am I supposed to let space set the tone for this brand-new ass relationship before I walk away?” I ask, despite being home alone and Caziya being the only one who can give me the answer.
My eyes land on a couple of dolls, an educational game, and a pair of little girl’s shoes with a heel when I return to the living room. Wordlessly and desperate for a distraction, I clean up the small mess Kiki left. Then I sprinkle some carpet freshener on the floor and set my robotic vacuum to clean the floor. With that task complete, I move on to the kitchen to put the few dishes in the sink in the washer. Since I have been hit with a cleaningbug, I go through the process of scrubbing down the floors in the kitchen, hallway, foyer, and bathrooms.
Once that’s done, I move on to washing, drying, and folding Kiki’s and my dirty clothes before I feel accomplished enough to sit down on my bed. Before I can get comfortable or decide on my next move, the doorbell sounds. My forehead wrinkles, and my nose twists because I’m not expecting anyone. I stand with a frown and exit my bedroom to go answer the door. It only takes me a second or two to reach the front door and disengage the locks. When I pull it open, my head goes back slightly as Caziya’s weary eyes peer into me, and she fidgets with her fingers.
