Sweet St. Louis

  Then they were silent again. Sometimes, silence was not bad. It could tell you if you were comfortable with a person. Ant and Sharron obviously were, because neither of them were forcing the conversation. Sharron wasn’t even a phone person. But Ant was. He used the phone to break the ice, so that when he came face to face with a woman, he could jump directly into more intimate things. But with Sharron, her multifaceted questions made it seem as if they were picking up from nowhere. It was what rappers called freestyling: an unplanned flow that tested your skills to the fullest. That was what made Sharron such a turn-on to Ant. He could never work his straight magic with her. She was indeed stretching out her pieces.

  “Are we having a hard time hanging up or something? Because I have some early runs to make tomorrow before work,” Sharron said with a chuckle.

  “Your day is no earlier than mine,” he told her.

  “Yes, but I have to take public transportation. All you have to do is drive your car for about ten minutes,” she answered.

  “Five minutes,” he teased. “Aw’ight, well, I’ll let you go to sleep then. And I’ll call you tomorrow. I just felt like calling you up before I crashed tonight.”

  “And I’m glad that you did. I always look forward to your calls.”

  Ant grinned and thought, Yeah. I got her too, before they hung up. And when he crashed soon after in his comfortable bed, he thought about how nice it would be to settle down with Sharron. All he had to do was continue to enjoy her company, and then make up his mind, once and for all, that he would stay put with her. Like he mentioned earlier in the barbershop, men did possess the power to stay.

  But thinking about progressive decisions has always been easier than executing them. Sometimes things just seem to get in the way. Big tests, if you want to call them that. Hurdles to overcome. Relationships, like everything else in life, have plenty of them. Hurdles. So just when everything is going well, you can always predict a few unexpected twisters to swoop down and throw you for a loop.

  “The telephone is for you,” Nadine informed Sharron. She was behind the register at the airport gift shop.

  Sharron, understandably, had grown hesitant to answer the phone around Nadine. They remained less than friendly to each other since their testy encounter, weeks ago. It wasn’t as if they held any grudges, they were just in two different ballparks of maturity.

  “Hello,” Sharron answered, guarded. She wanted to make the phone call as short as possible to keep Nadine’s nosiness at bay.

  “How are you doing, Sharron? I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

  It was Mr. Married Man! Sharron was so shocked she nearly dropped the phone. He had made himself disappear so easily that she had all but forgotten about him.

  He said, “I told myself, or at least I tried to, that I would move on and do what I needed to do with my family, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  Sharron was speechless. With her silence, she figured Nadine would soon work herself into a frenzy of wonder while she rang items at the register. So Sharron forced herself to at least mumble, “Unh-hunh, I see,” in response. The last thing in the world she wanted her co-worker to know about was her short-lived relationship with a married man. That would make her seem just as naive, whether she’d known that he was married or not. In fact, since Sharron had known that he was married, that made her feel worse!

  “Now just hear me out for a minute,” he was telling her.

  Sharron expected a lecture and swiftly cut him off. “This is a real busy day today, so I’ll call you about it when I get home,” she told him. She was ready to hang up the phone on him but her manners did not allow her to be so brutal, which gave him time to continue.

  “Sharron, I would have never called you if my feelings for you were not as strong as they are. I guess I realized how attached I felt to you while we were apart.”

  If she could have thrown a pot of hot water on him right through the telephone, she would have filled up a bucket instead and scorched his ass from head to toe!

  “What I’m telling you is that we are very busy right now,” she repeated. And they were, because air travel picked up a great deal in the midst of the summertime, especially after grade schools had let out. St. Louis International was an absolute mess with traffic.

  He said, “I understand that. Just hear me out for a second.”

  She was tempted again to hang up on him.

  “I’ve already purchased a ticket to fly down this weekend, and I just wanted to let you know so that we can sit and talk to each other face to face.”

  “Why?” she asked him. Why in the world would I want to do that? I don’t even want to remember you. Just go the hell away! she thought frantically.

  “Because I have too much to say to you to do it all over the phone. And I just want you to know that they are all good things about us. Us as a couple.”

  She couldn’t ask him, What about your wife and kids? She couldn’t call him an ASSHOLE! And she surely couldn’t scream, Are you out of your FUCKING mind! like she wanted to. Not with Nadine standing right there in front of her at the register. The gossip would spread throughout the airport quicker than a hurricane. So she just sat there and took it, like a boiling pot of spaghetti rumbling to explode.

  “Okay, so call me tonight then,” she said, hanging up the phone before he could spit out another word. She had to do it. But then she got nervous about it. What if he calls back?

  BLUP, BLUUUUP!

  An outside call. Sharron’s hand met Nadine’s at the receiver.

  “Customers,” Sharron hinted with seniority at the job. In other words, get your ass back to work! she thought.

  Nadine got the message and let go. If it was for her, Sharron would hand it over anyway.

  “Sharron Francis, please.”

  “Speaking,” she answered.

  “Why would you hang up on me? This is childish. All I’m asking you to do is hear me out. Do you realize how difficult of a situation this is for me? My wife and I are separating.”

  So what? Do I care? NO! That’s your damn problem! Sharron snapped in her mind.

  She asked, “Are you purposefully trying to get me fired? I mean, I know this isn’t much of a job to some people, but it is a job to me. So I’ll call you later on. Okay?” she pleaded.

  “Are you promising me that call?” he asked, twisting her arm.

  “Yes,” she answered, if only to light your ass on FIRE when I get home! ASSHOLE! she snapped to herself.

  “Okay,” he told her. “I’ll talk to you then.”

  Sharron hung up for the second time and wanted to call it a day. Five minutes on that phone with Mr. Married Man, who was attempting to make her life as difficult as he had made his own, seemed more like five hours! She was noticeably drained, and looking at the clock.

  “Almost five o’clock,” she mumbled to herself. “Three more hours to go!” SHIT!

  Closer to seven, when she had finally gotten a chance to calm herself down, Nadine was calling her to the phone again.

  Why do I always seem to get phone calls whenever I’m in this damn gift shop?! she asked herself, referring to the shop where Nadine worked, close by the airport’s entrance. Sharron tried her best to spend less time in that shop by working quickly whenever she was there, but it didn’t seem to matter. And she wouldn’t dare to tell Nadine to take a message like she could do elsewhere.

  Damn this girl is a pain!

  “Hello,” she answered the phone again. This time she was expecting trouble.

  “Why are you avoiding all of my phone calls? I thought we were much closer than that. I can’t believe this.”

  It was Sean Love. What else could go wrong? Sharron hadn’t exactly been avoiding him, she was just too wrapped up in her time spent with Anthony to get back to him. Nor was she anxious to do so. She didn’t feel like talking to him right then either, especially after she had calmed her nerves from the first sneak attack.

  She said, “How about
I just fly up there to Chicago for a weekend? Would you like if I did that?” she asked sarcastically. She no longer cared about Nadine overhearing. She dared her to run her mouth. She even gave the cashier a stern eye to send her a message.

  “Would you be willing to do that?” Sean asked her.

  “Call me at home,” she told him.

  “Why, so Celena can tell me that you’re not home again?” He sounded as bitter as he was the last time Sharron had spoken to him.

  “I’ll be in tonight,” she lied to him. Actually, she was developing other plans. She wanted to get away and think, to recuperate from the day’s drama. In the meantime, she would let Celena handle the phone calls however she wanted.

  “You’re getting off at eight o’clock again?” Sean asked.

  “Yes.”

  “So you’ll be home by nine?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I’ll call you then. Okay? And you’ll talk to me, right?”

  Sharron said, “No, I’ll just answer the phone and breathe.”

  “Hmmph. Very funny. So how has everything been going for you otherwise?” he asked her.

  “Call me tonight, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  “All right then. I’ll talk to you later on. Hopefully.”

  Sharron hung up the phone once more and thought, Not hardly will I be home for that! I’m gonna make sure I stay out as long as possible tonight.

  Then she called Anthony to see what he would be up to for the evening, only to find out that he had left early from work. He usually worked late.

  Hmmm. I wonder what he’s up to, she mused. She called and left a message at his apartment to get in touch with her as soon as possible.

  Sharron arrived home before nine and checked her phone messages to see if Anthony had called her back. Once she found that he hadn’t, she wasted no time changing into a pair of blue jeans and a red knit tennis shirt. Then she called for a taxi. Her destination: the skating rink on Lindbergh Boulevard for time to herself. However, as she waited with her skates in hand for the taxi to arrive, she anticipated the phone ringing, hoping for Anthony’s last-minute call, so that he could join her. She felt attached to him and was not looking forward to being alone.

  Man! How did this happen? she asked herself. Sharron rarely had regrets about enjoying her own personal time. It was usually Celena who couldn’t stand being alone. So Sharron talked herself into it, going skating by herself, like she used to do. She decided that it would be a good thing. However, as soon as she arrived at the skating rink and laced up her skates, she felt all alone again.

  I will not call him, she told herself. I will not do it!

  Twenty minutes later, she was on the phone again, hanging up on Anthony’s machine.

  “Where the hell is he?” she mumbled, pissed and insecure.

  Then she caught herself. “I can’t believe this. I can’t even skate by myself anymore,” she stated with a chuckle. What the hell is wrong with me? she thought. This is exactly how women lose men, by clinging to them and losing their own personal space. I should know better than that by now!

  Nevertheless, she was tempted to leave Anthony another message on his machine to meet her at the skating rink.

  No, that doesn’t make any sense. I don’t even know how long I’m gonna be here, she reasoned.

  “Excuse me, you’re not here by yourself, are you? A fine black woman like you. Tell me you’re not here by yourself,” a tall brown man asked. He even had the nerve to look good. Real good! And he could skate well at that.

  Sharron looked into his pleasant face and said, “Okay, I’m not here by myself,” and skated off, leaving him in the wind.

  Why did I just do that? she questioned. I’m not even like that. Now he’ll think that I’m stuck on myself. Damn, I just can’t win! Would Anthony do the same for me, if a good-looking sister stepped up to him? Where is he right now?

  She caught herself worrying again.

  Oh my God! This is terrible! What is happening to meeee! DAAAAMN! she agonized. She forced herself to skate it off.

  Yeah, this is typical of my life, she continued to muse, rounding the skating rink. I’m just changing songs with flashing lights and different people, and all I’m really doing is skating around in circles, whether it’s fast or slow, backwards or forwards. This love shit is a trip! It really is.

  As she skated, she decided she needed to hear a song that fit her mood, and made a request with the DJ in his elevated booth that overlooked the skating floor.

  “Do you have Lauryn Hill?!” she shouted up at him.

  “Lauryn Hill? Of course I got Lauryn Hill,” he answered. “Which one you wanna hear? ‘Doo Wop’?”

  “No! Do you have ‘Ex-Factor’?!”

  He grinned and said, “Oh. So you got a love jones in here.”

  She smiled back at him and responded, “Yeah, don’t we all!”

  “In two songs, I’ll put it on for you,” he promised.

  “Thank you!”

  When she returned to the floor, she noticed that good-looking brother with the skating skills watching her every move.

  What if I just made friends with him? she questioned. What would be so wrong with that?

  Before she knew it, Lauryn Hill’s ode to love hit the speakers and sunk into the minds and souls of every skater on the floor.

  Where were you-uuuu … when I neeeed-ed yuuuu?! Where were you-uuuu …

  “Did you make a request for that?”

  That handsome-ass tall brown man was right back in her face again. His breath even smelled good. Like peppermints. Unless you didn’t like the smell of peppermints. But it sure beat the smell of cigarettes or marijuana. Peppermint breath was a good first impression.

  “Yeah, I requested it,” Sharron told him.

  “You wanna sit down and talk about it? My name is Damani. Damani Richardson,” he said, extending his hand to her while they skated forward.

  She politely declined his hand and skated alongside him, giving him her undivided attention.

  “Where are you from?” she asked. He was not from St. Louis. She could tell. He was a player from another place, with a different style about him.

  “Cincinnati,” he answered, smiling. “Why? You can tell?”

  She nodded. “Yeah.” And why not sit down and talk to him, if just to amuse myself while I’m here? “I’m not from here either. I’m from Memphis,” she told him.

  “And your name is …?”

  “Sharron Francis.”

  “So, would you like to sit down and talk about it, with no strings attached, to a stranger. At least until we get to know each other,” he added with a confident smile.

  She smirked, knowing better, and was tempted to do it anyway, with no strings attached, to a stranger. So she agreed to it.

  “Sure. Why not?”

  He led the way to a table, while reaching out again for her hand. A hand that she still refused to give him. At least not until they got to know each other. Which in Sharron’s case was unlikely. She was only being nice to him. Anything else was off-limits. Unless she was with Anthony. Because strangers don’t touch. And women were protective that way.

  Plans for an immediate and long-term future are nice to have, but the world rarely runs as smoothly as we would all like it to. And we can say anything. But actually carrying out what we plan is a whole different story. As we know from popular American athletes, retirement can be an extremely hard thing to do. Many times, help is needed to uphold that decision. Sometimes we receive that help in mysterious ways. So when the month of August rolled around, and all seemed well again for the two lovebirds as they waited in line for popcorn, drinks, and candy at the Northwest Plaza movie theater on a Saturday night, another hurdle was presented in the form of an old temptation. Dana Nicole Simpson.

  “Do you know her or something?” Sharron asked Anthony when she noticed the intense stare of a woman who presented a challenge to a browner sister. Because the lighter shade of b
rown, when connected to a pretty face and an all-about-me attitude, was legendary for the heartache of black American men, even as the new millennium approached.

  Anthony looked in her direction and said, “Yeah. I know her.”

  Dana was still with her tall new love, as Ant was with his new love. Nevertheless, she was making Sharron feel uncomfortable.

  “Well, why is she staring like that?”

  Because she always got something up her damn sleeve, Anthony thought, nervous about it himself. He hadn’t set eyes on Dana in months. He didn’t need to see her when around Sharron either. He cared about Sharron too much to put her in that position. Dating a man known to many women was indeed nerve-racking.

  But it was too late for an escape, because Dana had spotted them. And as soon as she got a chance to break away from her man, she walked right in their direction to say what she had on her mind.

  “Hey, Anthony. Good to see you.” She gave Sharron a nod and smiled at her.

  “How you doin’?” Anthony responded, reserved.

  “I’m being good. How ’bout you?” she asked him with a lingering grin. When talking about the use of words, Dana could use the fewest and still get her point across.

  Anthony nodded, hoping that Sharron didn’t hear it the way he heard it. “I’m doing all right,” he said, anxious to move on.

  “Well, I’ll see you around,” Dana commented. She slid away as quickly as she had arrived, and headed for the ladies’ room.

  Sharron had a thought to follow her inside and whip something on her just for being a slick-ass. However, women like Dana knew how to say or do just enough to bite and get away with it. Any response to it on Sharron’s part would have appeared irrational. But she still had a question or two for Anthony, no matter how much she tried to let the incident slide.

  “What did she mean by that?” she asked him.

  Of course, he had to play the know-nothing role. “What did she mean by what?”

  “I’m being good. How ’bout you?’” Sharron repeated, word for word. Evidently, she did understand that there was an underlying message.

  Anthony took a deep breath and decided to use the best policy for a change. The truth. He said, “We used to talk, and we both had other people that we dealt with. But now she’s supposed to be committed. So, what she was saying was that she’s still committed, and she was basically asking me if I was.”