not my cup of tea, but I kept my mouth shut to keep the peace. It was so rare to have a night like we just had, I considered it might still be a dream, in reality it never happened. Terri knew my dream; to be on the road and recording. She had to know, because she has been hearing it since the first time we had a conversation. I was crystal clear about what I wanted to do, and then came love. The idea of me on stage used to get her all worked up, but now it just seemed to be a lightning rod for drama.
“What? A brother can’t have his dreams?” My dreams are my gift to the world. She lives her dream every day and I have supported her from day one. Her quest is to become a power broker in the field of education.
As the years slipped by, changes occurred to each of us. I often put a question to the “Sexy Eight”, as I call them. The group consists of Terri, Kenya, Dorothy, Gloria, Valarie, Bonita, Tia and Janet. Sometimes my mom and my mother-in-law would join in and make it the “Twisted Ten”. Every now and then, they women come over to the house for a book club meeting and a very small cookout. Somehow, most of the time, the meeting degenerates into a full out, tipsy, man-bashing session. I always strategically butt in at the end of their meetings and ask them thought provoking questions to try to get them to rethink their current twisted philosophical position and instigate some good arguments. The last question I hit them with was a killer.
“Pretend you are in the market for a good man, and you frequent a public park to exercise a couple of times a week. One day you noticed this good-looking man and eventually he approaches you. His conversation is engaging and insightful. He is well-groomed, smells good, and makes you laugh like crazy. His teeth are clean, and he has a career with a county division, and he gives you the utmost respect. You began to date and you are falling for him. Your girls know something is up, but you keep the relationship under wraps, because you wanted to be sure that it is the real thing. One Friday, you and your girls decide to play hooky from work and do the day spa followed by lunch. In the middle of your lunch at the cute little sidewalk cafe’, a garbage truck rolls by and you see your heartthrob hanging off the back of the truck, waving at you. Would you joyfully acknowledge him and point him out to your girls or would you pretend not to see him?”
Six of them mumbled to themselves for a moment, especially Terri. I could always count on the real sister to step to the front. That’s right, my girl...Kenya Dixon.
“Yes, I would stand tall and holler right back at him,” stated Kenya with absolute conviction and no hesitation.
“Why he gotta be a garbage man? Why can’t he be an X-ray technician? Why can’t he be a school teacher?”, are the recommended changes to make my question more comfortable.
“Why a brother got to be any of that?” I thought doing my best to keep my mouth shut. “A good man is not what they want.”
Hell, the smartest man and woman I know never completed high school. My grandma Lucille (Big Mama) was as sweet as they come and knew good from a thousand miles away. Sometimes I would throw in a bald headed, short, fat, ugly brother into the equation. Now don’t get me wrong. I am in no way, shape or form trying to place all of the blame and poor judgment on women. There are a lot of brothers out there doing the same thing. But somehow, the final decision never rested on what was real about the person who was standing in front of them vying for their companionship.
I respect Terri’s dream of becoming a Marva Collins-type teacher, but ever since we got deeper into our marriage, she began to try to dress me differently and pick my friends, tell me who could come over to the house, and make me take the career path that she prescribes for me. I’m down for making money, but teaching is a stepping-stone for me. I love the kids, but I know that my mission from God is to affect the world positively with my music. I see a lot of brothers and sisters just doing whatever it takes to get by. I believe that life is about more than just getting by. So, whether Terri wants me to be a big star or not, I’m going to follow my dreams, no matter what.
The water in the shower stopped. The food I prepared is on the tray I’m carrying like a seasoned waiter. I’ll have it in place on the bed before she dries off and returns to the room. I put the tray on the bed, and take off my clothes so I can get into the shower before the dreaded conversation starts up again. Opening the door to the bathroom, the fog from the shower is thick enough to be in the opening of a Hollywood horror movie. Terri, has one foot on the toilet seat, and is bent over drying her foot. Walking up behind her, I touch the crack of her butt with the head of my erect love muscle. Startled, she stood at attention like a soldier.
“Boy, you scared me!”
“Who else is in the house but you and me?”
Her face looked like she was about to transition from happy to mad. It didn’t take much to change her mood. I stood in front of her with a wide stance, as if I were getting ready to fight.
“Oh, you act like you want to do something. Ain’t nothing between us but air and opportunity.” She tried to hold back that grin that was sneaking across her face.
In my most lusty voice. “Go ahead, I dare you to make me late for work! I don’t think you have what it takes!” She laughed and tried to step by me.
“I made you something,” I said as I held her for a few seconds to kiss her on the lips.
She only offered me her cheek before she left to go into the room. I hated it when she offered me her cheek. What the hell is that about? I remember when I used to kiss her full on the mouth, in the broad open daylight standing at the city bus stop. I should have known something was up when she pulled back during the kiss at the end of our wedding ceremony. I’ve been tracking all of the subtle signs of change over the years. I saw the storm coming, but I didn’t know how to get out of the way.
Stepping into the shower, I narrowly avoided stepping on the wet bar of soap. I have asked Terri time after time to put the soap back into the dish after she uses it. If I didn’t know any better, I would think she was trying to take me out by having me slip down and hit my head. I heard the door squeak as it opened.
“Thanks for the breakfast.”
“Anything for you baby.” I know it’s only a matter of moments before she starts in on me again about that job jazz. Under my breath, “5, 4, 3, 2,1”…
“So, what do you think about that job opening?”
“Did I just tell her I would do anything? Damn!” I keep my mouth shut for fear of saying the wrong thing. Hell, any man with half a brain knows that when his lady wants him to do something that he does not want to do, everything he says is all wrong, unless he is saying yes. A young married fool would misconstrue her last utterance as a question. This line of verbal exchange was almost as lethal as, “Does this dress make me look fat?” or, “Do I look fat to you?” What self-respecting man would even step willingly into that steaming pile of dog poop?
“Chapman!” she snaps. “Do you hear me talking to you?”
“Yeah baby, I had some soap in my eyes. What did you say?”
“I was asking you what you thought about the job down at the county office.”
“I’m not sure baby. Like I said, I need to look it over and see if it is something that I would be interested in doing.”
“Sweet, you got the qualifications and military experience. You will be making around seventy thousand dollars a year. That’s a long way away from what you make right now. We can move up and do some other things with the extra cash.”
An awkward silence settled into
