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Jasmine
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Argh! How could I have been so careless and let time slip away? I knew Toni would be pacing and cussing because I was late, especially since we had to drive nearly two hours to get to Fort Washington and Lord only knows what Friday evening traffic would yield.
During the WNBA basketball season, a group of friends took turns hosting parties to watch Washington Mystics away games, those that are televised anyway, but that is a different story for another day. This gave them a chance to stay connected with the Mystics while they were on the road and an excuse to get together. West coast away games usually started later in the day which gave everyone time to get settled, eat, and relax before tipoff. But it wasn’t like Toni’s friends were ever prepared to start anything on time. Most of them had a distant relationship with punctuality. But Toni ALWAYS had to be at so and so’s house on or before the designated time.
Because of my girlfriend’s proclivity to be on time, necessary in her line of work managing an HIV/AIDS advocacy organization, but unhelpful for me personally, I didn’t know how many times I ended up helping with last minute preparations at other people’s houses. Hell, I was tired! I’d been working all week and didn’t feel like helping cook, arrange snacks, or set food out. When I got a chance to rest, the last place I wanted to be was sitting in a thick, smoke-filled basement watching people drink, “party,” and laugh at nothing particularly funny.
I didn’t travel in the same social circle since the D.C. lesbian scene was much different from Baltimore’s. In the same vein, my interests were vastly different than Toni’s friends. If it wasn’t for her, I probably wouldn’t have crossed paths with them. Truthfully, I really didn’t like most of them and therefore, most of our interaction was superficial. “Partying” was their euphemism for smoking weed or if you asked them, it was their way of releasing creativity or managing chronic pain. I was skeptical to say the least and suspected that the more private parties included extra-curricular shenanigans involving scantily clad women dancing for dollars. What damn affinity Toni had with any of it, I will never know. Dear God, I shouldn’t have to lie. I simply didn’t want to go!
I pulled into the driveway and the front door was already open. Ugh, this was not going to be good. I opened the car door and immediately heard Toni yell, “I thought you were going for a quick walk. You’ve been gone a long time, I started to leave!”
I should have stayed longer then, I was having a better time there anyway.
“We are going to be late... I’m driving.” All said without taking a breath. I knew at that point I definitely didn’t want to go, and I damn sure didn’t want to be in the passenger seat strapped into what was about to become a low flying aircraft. I got motion sickness riding that erratically.
I took a deep breath and tried to count to ten, but I responded at seven. “Leave for what? The game? The nonsense? What are you so interested in getting to?” I demanded to know a little louder than I meant to.
“We are supposed to be there at seven. Are you ready?” Toni responded.
“I will be in ten minutes,” I ignored her sucking her teeth as I walked past. If I didn’t ignore the sound, we would have kept arguing. I was still fuming as I brushed my teeth and washed my face. I kept thinking, why am I doing this?
***
Just as I thought, when we arrived the basement was already filled with smoke and the lights were dim. The only people here yet were the core group of party animals. Some rapper was bragging about his bitches and hoes on the stereo and an unwanted uneasiness in the pit of my stomach that I had come to associate with hanging out with Toni and her friends took hold. More and more, I despised this whole scene. I could think of twenty different things I would rather do on a Friday night, including watching paint peel, but Toni wanted me with her.
At least that was what she always said although we were usually not in close proximity at these functions. Besides, if I could avoid smelling like a chimney from my hair down to my beautifully pedicured toes, I did. More often than not, I felt like a showpiece. She liked me to accompany her so the doms knew that I was off limits and to make them jealous. Sad, in the most objectifying way possible I know. But I tried to make myself useful and help in the kitchen with the other “good wives.” It’s funny, growing up watching my mother take care of my father and brothers hand and foot, I said I’d never be that submissive to a man. Guess I should have considered the same gender in the equation as well.
At first, these parties were tolerable; at least that’s what I remember. I was so in love with Toni that my judgment, looking back now almost ten years later, was probably skewed. We used to dance, play cards and dominoes, gossip about who broke up, and who was sleeping with whom this week. Some of her friends changed girlfriends like some of us changed panties—and not the expensive ones—so it always made for interesting comic relief.
I saw Toni differently then. She seemed to be more settled and stable than her friends. We prided ourselves on our solid relationship. Two college educated, professional women that had a lot going on other than trying to screw half of the female population in Baltimore or D.C., lesbian or not. Little by little though, the draw of the parties became more about smoking weed and drinking rather than truly enjoying each other’s company. My gut sensed that T’s idea of a Friday night was different.
“Hey girl!” Stephanie, the only friend I had amidst this crowd, interrupted my trip down memory lane and perhaps into my future.
“Hey,” I said with a warm smile.
“I thought you were supposed to put the finishing touches on the crab salad. You over here deep in thought. And judging by the size of that smile, it’s more than you being happy to see me.”
“No, I’m not deep in thought and what smile?” I lied, trying to hide the physical manifestation of joy that the thought of T brought.
“Well, whatever it is, we can talk about it in a few minutes, but we need to finish the food before the natives in the basement get restless,” Stephanie reminded me.
“Girl, it’s nothin’, just listenin’ to the activity that’s all.”
“Uh huh...you can’t fool me. We’ve been through too much shit together. I’ve been able to read you like a book since eleventh grade.” Stephanie didn’t wait for my response. Instead, she grabbed the bowl of crab salad, placed it on a serving tray with crackers and headed downstairs. “I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder.
Shit! I was not in the mood for one of her therapy sessions tonight. Stephanie was a clinical psychologist with specialties in educational and counseling psychology. She was the only person I knew that was more adept than me to get people to talk about themselves to divert the focus from herself. We had been analyzing each other since high school when I complimented her on an extraordinarily short mini skirt with matching pumps. The girl had a fabulous sense of style even then and I adored her strong self-assuredness.
“Jazzy! Jazz? Baby come here for a minute,” Toni screamed from the basement stairs.
“God, I hate when she calls me that,” I mumbled.
“Jazzy?” The footsteps were getting louder as she reached what I assumed was the top landing. “Jazz! I know you heard me girl. Come here for a second.”
“What is it Toni?” I said disgusted, but still moving in her direction. She grabbed me around the waist, pulled me to her, and planted a kiss on my lips. A few years ago, I would have been instantly turned on by her cockiness, but right now I was trying to ignore the taste of Corona and burnt ash.
“What’s the matter baby?”
“It’s...” I started.
Toni continued without waiting for an answer. “Pat and Peaches invited us down to watch the Mystics’ game next Friday, the season’s heating up you know.”
“I thought the game was in Indiana,” I said trying to choose my words carefully knowing full well that by the time they were all drunk out of their minds this time next week, I’d be otherwise engaged. I hoped I would be staring into someone else’s eyes and doing my best to prolong time spent with that fine, intelligent life form.
“It is, they’re having some people over to watch it on digital. They have the sports package.”
“Oh.” Damn satellite has been the source of many of my problems.
“Yeah baby!” she exclaimed trotting back down into Satan’s den, “It’ll be fun!”
Goddamnit! See that’s what I was talking about. We used to discuss these things. At what point did she stop soliciting my opinion and start being my social coordinator?
***
Without too much of a Stephanie inquisition, although she sensed something was different, I managed to have a little fun. My inner diva was in full effect tonight and the “family” couldn’t keep their eyes off me. The doms were drooling, and the femmes were jealous. Don’t hate me because I can still send the “children” into a frenzy.
But even worse than going to these damn parties was the drive home and impending request for sex. Like usual, Toni was high and drunk and foolishly wanted to drive home. And like clockwork, she got loud and irritated in the process of us fighting for her car keys. Finally winning the battle, I got in the driver’s seat, took a long, deep breath, and put the key in the ignition. “Phew...I survived another Friday night,” I whispered.
“What’s that Jazzy?” Toni slurred, having reclined the passenger seat all the way back so she could sleep on the way home.
“Nothing.”
***
As I came into the kitchen the next morning Toni asked, “What did you say about going to Pat and Peaches’ house on Friday for the game?” I hesitated, knowing that I would need to come up with a plausible excuse for why I wasn’t going with her. At least with me not there, Toni didn’t have to worry about how many beers she drank or joints she smoked. But my excuse had to be good. I stalled, “Remember I told you I have a seminar, and a couple of us are going for drinks afterwards?”
“How come you can drink with everyone but me?” she asked. I smiled before I replied, but the voices in my head screamed, “BECAUSE I ALWAYS HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT DRIVING AND THERE’S NO REASON FOR BOTH OF US TO BE DRUNK.” I verbally replied, “I try to have a good time with you too.”
Hmmm... The house smelled like a wonderful blend of basil, rosemary, and oregano. Toni was making the best smelling spaghetti for what I assumed would be tomorrow’s dinner. One thing I couldn’t complain about though? She did most of the cooking, and her damn spaghetti was so good that when my mother asked, ‘who made the spaghetti’ and I replied ‘Toni,’ she was at our house within minutes with plastic bowls like she ordered take out.
***
When I walked in the office Wednesday morning, I must have been smiling absentmindedly because Paula said, “You sure can tell it’s ‘Hump Day’, people just look more relaxed and pleased for no reason at all. Or do we have a reason for smiling?”
“Nope, just happy the weekend is almost here,” I responded.
“You and Toni have plans?” she asked trying to get into my business.
“No,” I said as my face fell slightly, the gravity of what I may be contemplating coming into sharp focus. An old saying went something like, ‘don’t start what you don’t plan to finish,’ but elders imparting that wisdom didn’t take into account that “life” happens. Even though I swore my relationship with Toni would be different, it seemed to be going the way of others before it. While I mentally understood that all relationships needed maintenance, our relationship had grown tired, and I had grown tired of trying. I may as well be honest with myself; I wasn’t happy and had not been for a long time. I could have easily blamed it on Toni, but truth be told, I had just as much weight to bear for the relationship’s degraded state.
As our relationship matured, I just didn’t feel like dressing up in lingerie and setting the mood to have a little sex. Of course, it wasn’t all about sex, but sometimes I didn’t want to have to entice Toni. I wanted to be wanted... Was that the beginning of the relationship’s end? A thousand revelations came to mind. I stopped trying to pick out the right outfit. I wasn’t beating my face to look ‘natural’, cool, fresh, or sexy. Our walks stopped. I slacked on cleaning the house. She stopped bringing home “just because flowers.” I no longer received mid-day “Hi, I was thinking about you” phone calls. Her extracurricular activities—smoking and drinking—eventually made her unattractive to me. The accumulation of all these things cracked open the door of new possibilities; like the possibility there may be someone better out there for me.
Even when Toni and I had those god-awful heart-to-heart talks, things only changed for a few days, or weeks, at best and then it was back to business as usual. In my formative years, I routinely heard that you had to work just as hard at a relationship as a full-time job. Toni’s retort to that usually was, “Yeah, but no one wants to do hard labor.” I didn’t particularly like what I was planning to do Friday, but weirdly I felt both powerless to stop it and empowered to discover what comes next. I mean really, T was hot, and she had definitely sparked an interest and energy that I long thought was dead. Apparently, it was simply dormant. But do I let smoldering kindling progress into the slow burn that I suspect may follow? What the hell was I doing?