One guy in particular, I had become keen on. I nicknamed him B. We talked every night about anything and everything. We spoke about comedy, friends, being from Akron, what life was like, and mostly why we were single. We entertained the idea of being in a relationship and became good friends. I was mentally attracted to him, which was what I needed at that time. A real connection was what I had yearned for. He seemed to be cool, sweet, caring, and kind, but we only spoke in the evening and at night. I assumed it was because he worked all day and wanted to be free to speak with no limits. That part was true but not because he was working all day.
The local radio station would be celebrating their anniversary a month later after we decided to casually date to see what the phone conversations would bring. I invited him to be with me, attend, and, you know, do whatever. I wanted to get down. Four months after giving birth to Brooklyn’s little brother, I was ready to live. I thought I was free enough from Lyulle’s cusps to go on a date. I dared not ask him to babysit, so I needed to improvise—more like devise—an impenetrable plan to have a little fun. Anytime I wanted to go out, I’d always make arrangements for the two boys. It did not matter if it was one evening or a week. I’d invite an aunt down to my house, or I’d travel up the highway to take them to visit their relatives. It seemed like a lot to have to do just to enjoy life, but I did it. I would not dare ask Lyulle to babysit his own kids or just spend some time with them while I went out and socialized, chilled, thought, got my hair done, or whatever the hell I wanted or needed to do. For this date and weekend of fun, I’d invite my whole family down to attend the event and visit me and the kids and my possible love interest. I was in need of a good time, and I’d do what was needed to make it happen and, of course, not tell Lyulle anything. It wasn’t any of his business anyway.
The weeks passed swiftly. B and I became closer, and I anticipated this event as if it was my own party. I’d picked the hotel we’d all stay in. I’d found a nice restaurant to eat at. B paid for dinner and offered to buy me a gift. I didn’t need anything, just a good time. His presence in my world was enough of a gift, and I’d be more than accommodating. I was so ready.
Gem, my god-sister, my cousins, and my aunties all arrived just as planned. The boys would be with the family, and I’d be having a nice time with B. Brooklyn’s li’l brother was still breastfeeding. They stayed on the hotel floor below us. Everything was really convenient. B arrived at the hotel at around 6:00 p.m., which was perfect timing. We’d leave for dinner at 7:00 p.m. sharp so there was plenty time for a prelude to what I had planned for him that night, and sample him, I did. He was pleased. He brought his first cousin with him on the trip. I’d brought my god-sister to dinner to keep his cousin occupied. She was not into him. She preferred a softer touch …
B was nervous at dinner, and I could not understand why. I was all over him, flirty, cute, bossy, and sexy, hair and lip gloss poppin’. I wore a black spandex-style T-shirt with a white-out picture of Marilyn Monroe I’d purchased from Spencer, white skinny jeans, and those same red patent leather pumps with gold heels from the night out with Dion almost two years earlier. My lip gloss matched Marilyn’s red lipstick in the photo on my T-shirt, and my red-and-gold pumps completed my perfect look. Everything was great. I was happy and having a really good time.
It was nearly 8:30 p.m., and I was hardly close to finishing my meal. I was too excited to be out to eat. My cell phone began to ring. None other than Lyulle was calling. I excused myself to the ladies’ room.
“Hello,” I answered.
“Hey.” His voice was clear and bright, chummy even. “What’s up with you?” he asked me.
“Nothing, just out. What’s up?”
“Where y’all at?” he was inquiring now.
“I’m out at dinner,” I told him.
“Where are the boys?” he questioned.
“They are back at the hotel with the family.”
“What restaurant y’all at?” Another question.
“Out here in Westerville somewhere. Oh, excuse me,” I said to one of the ladies in the restroom who wanted to dry her hands with paper towels from the rack where I was leaning. I thought to myself, All of the other paper towel racks, and she had to use this one.
“You don’t know where y’all at?” Lyulle questioned again.
“Yes, I know where we are.”
“Who was that?”
“I am in the bathroom. There is a lady I bumped into. She’s drying her hands.”
“Why are you in the bathroom?”
“I came in here to talk to you. To take your call,” I answered as politely as I could muster due to the rising levels of agitation radiating from my belly.
“You can’t talk in front of them?”
“I can. It’s just loud out there,” I assured him.
“What hotel are y’all staying at?”
“We are up north.”
“Okay. Where?”
“Out here in Westerville. Why do you want to know? The kids are safe. I am too. What do you want?” I asked, genuinely perturbed and inching more and more toward vexed by the millisecond. “You are asking me a lot of questions.”
I did not want him showing up to where we were to destroy my fun and rain on my parade. I could count on him to do so wherever I went, just like a gray cloud hovering over only me everywhere and anywhere I went, waiting to burst, leaving me drenched, wet, and cold. I refused to allow him to do that to me that day. I hated when he asked me a million and one questions about anything. Perhaps I did not want him to know. I did have that right, and I respected his privacy, so I did not ask him many questions about his personal life. I especially did not ask questions I did not want the answer to.
I hung up the phone and returned to dinner. We’d enjoyed the rest of the night, and I did my best to ignore Lyulle until this weekend came to a close.
The radio station’s party was not until the following day. I needed to get the finishing touches to my outfit. I went to the mall the next morning and the store and got breakfast and did whatever I wanted to do. For that weekend, I deserved to live a little.
We went back to the room I’d secured for B and I. For some reason, I thought he’d understood I was trying to get my swerve on that night, but he did not. B’s cousin stayed in the room with us, and B had not even tried to make a pass at me. He did not touch me in a sexual manner. He had asked me for a hug and kissed me earlier that evening, but that was it. He is not into me, I thought to myself, or maybe he was trying to seduce me with that standoffish behavior. I was confused, but I understood to give him room to fall. Anyway, we slept, and when we woke early, I let him know that I had a few errands to run—I was going to the mall—and that we’d meet back up in the afternoon well before it was time for the party.
I left shortly after Lyulle began to call my phone again. I answered.
“What’s up? Why do you keep calling me? You don’t want anything. You do not ever call me this much to see what I am into. As soon as I want to have some fun, you’re on my back about what?”
“Where are you?”
“I am at the bank,” I answered him.
“I am about to pull up.”
Click. He hung up.
I shared with those who were with me that I was having a problem with my kids’ dad. “He is about to come here to the bank. He is angry. I have no idea what he wants. He just said he’s pulling up.”
My family was one on one. That meant they kicked high into kickass mode—all women and all ready to beat his bitch ass if need be. That was all they were waiting to hear. I was overwhelmed. My potential love interest was waiting for me at the hotel, and here I was, fighting with this nigga who does not even want me. I began to feel awful inside.
I walked into the bank, and he walked into the double doors behind me.
“I need some money, man.”
“You need some money? How much money?” Imagine the haughtiness in my query.
“I need two thousand dollars.”
“Oh, I don’t have that for you.” I looked at him and motioned toward the entrance.
“You don’t have it, or you don’t have it for me?”
“I don’t have it, and I don’t have it for you,” I clarified. “You always do this, Lyulle. Why didn’t you tell me before now?”
He and I were in a full-out argument, and I shared with him what was clearly on my mind. Sadly, I had no words for him. I walked away, furious. I walked away and into the bank. I walked behind the desk and into my manager’s quarters. This took place at my job, right out in the entrance. He was emasculated and embarrassed—I was right—and on my turf, with my people. There was no way he could win. He conceded, but he continued to call me to badger me all weekend.
My manager had been watching the argument on the camera in the back of the branch. He’d saw the couple out in the entranceway arguing and stated to the employee near him, laughing, “Man, she is telling him off.” He’d had no idea it was me, but now he did. He was now privy to what I was dealing with and offered comfort to myself and my family.
While shopping, after leaving the bank, I received a call from B.
“Hey, J-Baby.”
“Hi, Bee. I’ll be back at the hotel in about an hour.” I was thrilled to hear his voice. “How you?”
“Not too good.” His energy and enthusiasm were low.
“Oh yeah? What’s up?”
“I have to leave. My daughter’s mother has gotten into a fight. Someone has threatened her. She has my daughter. I have to go get my daughter. I do not know what is going on.” He became frantic.
Hurt, I replied to him, “I understand. Yes, go be with your family. That is what is important. Promise me you will come back and we will share time.”
He agreed, and we hung up.
No doubt, I was confused, frustrated, and hurt. I was confused because she didn’t have anyone who could rescue her while her “baby daddy” was out of town, and I was frustrated sexually. I had no love, and I was hurt because I felt I did not have a significant other who would drop everything to come and be with me or share in chaotic circumstances. My kids’ father only created chaos for me, so I guess I was a little green eyed too. Nonetheless, I was determined not to let my weekend plans be destroyed. I went to that party, and I had a ball.
Lyulle had pestered me to no end over those two days. He’d managed to convince me to allow him to come up to the hotel where we were. I slept with him. I was horny and upset, and he’d wanted to sleep with me. I haven’t the slightest idea why, but I wanted to get laid. I’d convinced him he had nothing to worry about coming to the hotel. There would be no problems for him. I was in the room alone, the kids still with the family. I had actually decided to let the boys go to Akron with the family for the week just to give myself a little break. Lyulle was not having it. He did not want the kids to go with the family. He did not want a repeat of the custody battle or anything of the sort. I was destined to be in the house in my free time with the children and working during the day, all with no thrill, no chill, no excitement, no life, and no love coming or going. The sentiment of this was depressing. I was living a depressing lifestyle. I felt defeated. My kids were my responsibility, and working was how I supported us, myself and the kids, but beyond that, I was lonely, desolate, and unhappy.
A few weeks had gone by since my uncanny weekend with B. Lyulle and I were getting along okay, more or less, since then. We would not be together though, was my mantra.
I had become repulsed by the idea of being in a committed relationship with him. Thoughts of him throwing my birthday cake across the kitchen the year before and thoughts of him kicking the iron down the stairs because it was sitting there—all of these pitiful emotional outbursts made me hate him. He was disrespectful as hell, and he would show his malice toward me whenever possible.
Still, I did not want to lie to him when we conversed about B. I should have simply stated to him it was none of his business and left it at that, but he’d never let that shit fly. I made the conscious mistake of telling him of my true feelings for B. I shared with him that I really liked B, that I’d had an encounter with him, and that I thought he had a girlfriend or still messes with his baby mama though, but who doesn’t, right? I poked sarcastic fun at Lyulle.
Lyulle was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. He’d be sweet but turn evil in the blink of an eye. It was the evil moments that I remember mostly because I was afraid of him, like in that moment. He was vexed and tried to make me do to him what I had done to B in that hour before he and I had gone to dinner. I started to perform but was sickened at the thought and told him I couldn’t perform it because I was not in the mood. The reason that I had even begun to do it in the first place was because of the fear of not doing it. I did not want or need him to hurt me. Thankfully, he did not, but he did leave my presence. I was okay with that too.