Finding Mrs. Wright Page 3

  If I could spend the rest of my life without sex, she would be the last female I would ever deal with.

  Three

  I looked at the clock for the third time in fifteen minutes. Actually stared at it to see if the secondhand was broke. The day was dragging by and I was about to go straight out my mind with boredom. Every day I came to work—all day—I had to remind myself how thankful I was to have my job. Especially in such a bad economy.

  My cell phone rang. I looked down at the caller ID and answered the phone with a smile. “How’s my second favorite girl?”

  “Wonderful, how’s my baby doing?”

  “I’m good, Mama. Everything okay?” I looked at the clock again, almost hoping she was calling to tell me she needed me to come get Brianna early. Luckily, I wasn’t one of those parents who raced through traffic every evening because their afterschool program charged a dollar a minute after six o’clock. My mother picked my daughter up from school every day and helped with her homework. Even fed her dinner if I got off too late.

  I kept Brianna Monday through Thursday and Shauntae had her Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. When we first made the arrangement, Shauntae was angry to have to keep Brianna on the weekends. After a few weeks of trying to manage homework, science projects, and the simple act of getting Brianna to school on time every morning, Shauntae relented.

  I had mad respect for all the single mothers of the world. My parents made a big sacrifice to help me with my daughter. If it weren’t for them, there was no way I could have made it on my own. But there were strong women all over the country holding it down by themselves every day.

  “Everything’s fine, Devon dear. I was calling to let you know I have fresh collards on the stove.”

  My stomach grumbled just thinking about my mama’s cooking. “Thanks, Ma. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  I logged onto NFL.com to check the standings from Sunday’s games. Most days, I finished any work I was assigned by one or two in the afternoon, and then spent the rest of the day looking busy so I wouldn’t get assigned any extra work. Not that I minded working. It was just that if I did more work, I wanted the raise and promotion to go with it. Luckily, I was in the back of our department’s office space and there was little traffic by my desk. I also had my computer turned at an angle so that someone would have to work hard to see my monitor.

  “Hey, Devon.”

  Dang. I had hoped not to hear that seductive, silky voice all day. I looked up and there, standing in the entry to my cubicle, was who had to be the most desperate woman on the face of the earth.

  “Hey, Theresa. What can I do for you?” I minimized the football stats and pulled up a program I had finished earlier, hoping to look busy enough for her to leave. Soon.

  “I was hoping you could give me a little help with this project.” She walked closer to my desk and bent over, exposing even more of her breasts that were, in my opinion, already way too exposed for a workday. I didn’t bother to give them a second glance. They had been lowered into my face so many times over the past few months since Theresa had joined the IT department that they no longer held my interest. The first few times she put her twins in my face, I had to admit, I was captivated. But the unsubtle hints, sexual innuendos, and inappropriate touching that came with the peek-a-boo made them not so attractive.

  “I’ve been stuck on it all day and you’re the only person around here smart enough to help me figure it out.” Another played-out tactic. Someone needed to tell this chick that if a man is interested, he’ll come after you. If he’s not, no amount of free boob views, flattery, and accidentally dropping stuff on the floor to bend over and get it would change that. She reeked of desperation—a scent not at all pleasant to the male nose.

  I kept my eyes glued to the numerous pictures of Brianna sitting on my desk and pinned to my cubicle wall. There were other pictures of my parents, my sister and her husband, and their kids. I tried never to make eye contact with Theresa. She was the kind of woman who could read into any gesture, smile, or look. I didn’t want to give her any reason to think I was feeling her.

  My cell phone rang. It was Regina. Which was worse? Having to deal with her or Theresa and her relentless advances? I opted for what I thought would be the lesser of the two evils and held up the phone. “I need to get this.”

  “Okay, but don’t forget about me, Devon. You know where I am.” She spread her lips into what I guessed was supposed to be a sexy smile.

  I answered the phone. “Hello?”

  “Devon?” Regina’s voice was muffled and I could hear sniffling.

  Dang. For real? Dang.

  “Yeah. What’s up, Regina?” I tried to put the right balance of firm but not too mean in my voice. I had gotten used to the two-week drama that always came after a break-up. Crying phone calls, chicks showing up at the house—one even got bold enough to come to my job. I had picked my women well enough that I hadn’t had to deal with any bricks through my windshield or my car being keyed. Thankfully, I had never dealt with that level of crazy. Well, other than Shauntae, of course. She had her own brand of crazy going on.

  “Sorry to bother you, but . . .” She sniffed deep and long. How long had she been crying? “I was wondering if . . . if we could get together to talk this weekend?”

  “Regina . . . I don’t think that’s a good idea. Like I said last night, I think it’s best if we let things go.”

  “I don’t understand how you can do this. What’s wrong with you? To be all into somebody and then just cut them off . . . There has to be something wrong with you.”

  “What are you talking about?” I tried to keep my voice low. The small maze of cubicles in my department didn’t allow for much privacy.

  “Did some girl break your heart or something? Did you lose somebody and now you can’t love someone else? I mean, what’s wrong with you?”

  I was silent for a second, wishing I had chosen to deal with Theresa and her twins rather than deal with this. “Regina, I’m busy at work. I can’t have this conversation right now.”

  “Come on, Devon. Don’t try to play me. You finished your work two hours ago and you’re either checking football scores from yesterday or playing Sudoku.”

  My bad. I had definitely let this broad too close. Note to self—three months with one chick is long enough. “I’m on my way out. I need to pick up Brianna from my mom’s house.” With Regina showing up at the house last night, I wouldn’t put it past her to come to the job. She needed to think I was leaving. “I’m going to hang up, now. Please, don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

  I heard her crying loud sobs before I hung up the phone.

  Regina’s questions echoed in my head for the rest of the afternoon. And no amount of football stats or back-to-back Sudoku games could chase away the memories that forced me to admit that she might be right.

  I leaned back and patted my belly. “Thanks, Ma. I needed a good, home-cooked meal.” She had prepared a feast of fried pork chops, collard greens, cornbread, and black-eyed peas, and I had put a serious hurtin’ on it.

  “I know, baby. That’s why I put a little something special on the stove.” She nodded her head toward my father.

  He stood and patted Brianna on the back. “Come on, baby girl. Let’s go finish watching that Hannah Montana movie. You know she’s my favorite.”

  I watched as Brianna and my dad trooped into the living room. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought I was being set up for one of my mom’s heart-to-heart talks. She carried the dishes to the sink with a look on her face that said she was in deep thought, trying to figure out how to say what she needed to say.

  I needed to escape while I could. “Well, thanks for a great dinner.” I pushed back from the table. “I’m gonna have to break up this little movie party. I gotta get Bree on home.”

  “Sit down for a second, Devon. I need to talk to you.” Her voice held a mixture of love and concern.

  There was no escaping now.
I should have seen this coming when she called and said she had collards on the stove. If it wasn’t a big booty and a smile, kissing and rubbing up against me, it was some good, down-home cooking. Women always knew how to get to a man.

  The look on my mom’s face let me know it was something serious. Knowing her, she wouldn’t be able to talk until she had at least cleared the dinner plates. I would have helped her clean the kitchen, but I knew she wouldn’t let me. She was seriously old school where women did the housework and men provided.

  Sitting there, watching her put away the leftover food, reminded me of my childhood. Almost every night, me, my parents, and my older sister sat at the table for a home-cooked meal and family time. On Sunday mornings, my dad made us the biggest, fluffiest pancakes for breakfast before the whole family went to church together.

  Somehow my parents had found a home here similar to the one where I grew up in Memphis. It was a modest, four-bedroom, two-story house in a well-established neighborhood in Ellenwood. They purposely found a house about twenty minutes from mine. Not close enough to infringe on my privacy, but close enough to get to me and Brianna quickly if they needed to.

  My mom loaded the rest of the dishes into the dishwasher and finally expressed the thoughts behind the pensive look on her face. “I’m worried about you and Brianna.”

  “We’re fine, Ma. I don’t want you to worry.” I thought for a second, hoping she wasn’t getting at what I feared the most. “Is she getting to be too much for you and Pop? Do I need to put her in the aftercare program at the school? I don’t ever want to be a burden on you guys.”

  She came back to the table with a bowl overflowing with warm peach cobbler. That sweet, peachy, cinnamon smell had been calling my name since I first walked into the house. “You know we love Brianna and wish we could have her around all day every day. Don’t you dare think about putting my grandbaby in an afterschool program. We would do anything to make sure she has a good life and turns out right.”

  I knew it was true. After Brianna was born, they came for an extended visit when she was about a month old. I had moved Shauntae in with me after somehow convincing myself that we could raise our daughter together and make one big happy family. After my parents saw Shauntae sleep through feedings, leave Brianna in a wet diaper all day, and scream at her for crying too much, they announced they were moving to Atlanta. They said it was because they wanted to be close to their newest grandchild to watch her grow. I knew it was because they, like me, were scared as to what would happen without responsible, caring adults in Brianna’s life.

  “That’s what I’m concerned about, Devon. Brianna’s starting to act out some. I don’t know what’s happening at her mother’s house, but . . .” She shook her head. “Her English is deplorable, her eating habits are savage, and she actually sassed me today. I had to send her for a timeout.”

  “I know, Ma.” What else could I say?

  My father walked back into the kitchen. “She’s out like a light. Does that child sleep when she’s at her mother’s house? Every Monday when she’s here, she can hardly stay awake. I tell you what, after she’s been with her mother for the weekend, it takes a few days to get her back right.”

  He looked at my mom, his eyes asking if she had gotten anywhere with me. She pressed her lips together and gave a little shrug of her shoulders. After almost forty years of marriage, they could talk with their eyes and gestures as well as they did with their mouths.

  “What you gon’ do, son?” I had thought my father came to rescue me from my mother, but it looked like they were in this together. My mother went back to the stove to fix him some peach cobbler.

  “What can I do, Pop?”

  “Take her to court. Get your daughter.”

  “They’re not going to give me custody over her mother.”

  “Sure they will. That girl is crazy and any judge in his right mind will see it. If she even shows up to court. I know that girl talks a lot of stuff, but if you actually sued her for custody, she wouldn’t fight. She doesn’t have any money for a lawyer anyway. If you stop paying her child support, she won’t be able to afford anything. That’s what you need to do. Cut off her check and take her to court.”

  “I can’t do that right now, Pop.”

  “Why not, Devon?” My mom brought a heaping bowl of cobbler and set it in front of my dad.

  “You guys know why not.”

  Pop banged his fist on the table, causing both bowls to bounce. The clinking spoons made my mother jump. “You and your pride, boy. You gonna lose that child over some foolish pride.”

  “Lose her? Shauntae can’t take my child from me. And we all know she doesn’t want full custody.”

  “I’m not talking about custody, boy.” Pop tapped his temple with slow, deliberate taps. “She’s taking your child right here.” He looked at my mother, then back at me. “When we picked Brianna up from school today, she had her shirt tied in a knot at the bottom, showing her stomach. She had made a little ring from the tinfoil in her lunch bag and had it stuffed in her belly button. She and some other girls were doing a hoochie dance and singing one of them durn hoochie songs from the radio.”

  I clenched my fists and looked at my mother. She nodded and said, “As we were driving away, she pointed to a little boy and said he was her boyfriend. She said only the pretty girls in her class have boyfriends and she knew how to keep hers.”

  My father shook a long finger at me. “I’m telling you, the longer that child is exposed to her mother and her friends, the more you lose her. No telling how many no-good men she got hanging around. You don’t know what’s happening over there on the weekends. What if—”

  My mom cleared her throat and slightly shook her head.

  My father paused before continuing. “I’m just saying, she’s young. This is a critical age. If anything happens to her over there, it could mess her up for life. And even if it’s nothing serious like that . . . still. Her mother’s values are going to ruin that child. And because you’re too proud to let us pay the lawyer fees, you’re just going to sit back and watch that happen.” He pushed the bowl of cobbler away from him.

  It wasn’t like they were rich. My parents lived on their retirement and social security. They had been frugal when we were growing up, putting aside almost all of my mother’s teacher’s salary while the family lived on my father’s factory manager’s salary. There was no way I was going to let my parents spend a dime of their savings on a court case I probably wouldn’t win. “It’s not pride. You guys already do so much for Brianna. You gave up your whole life and moved here for her. I can’t ask you to do anything else.”

  “You’re not asking us, we’re offering.” My father reached for my mother’s hand. “Son, don’t you know there’s nothing in the world more important than family? The older you get, the more you’ll realize it. Money, success, wealth, whatever. It don’t mean a thing without family.”

  My mom reached over and took my hand. “That’s the other thing we wanted to talk to you about.” She looked at my father and then looked back at me. “When are you going to think about starting a family? You turned thirty-five this year.”

  “What? Where is this coming from?” My parents had never been ones to push me about getting married. In fact, when I had mentioned marrying Shauntae after Brianna was born, they both refused, saying it didn’t make sense trying to fix a mistake with a worse mistake.

  “What Brianna needs is a good mother,” my father said. “A real mother. And you need a good wife. I don’t understand you turning out this way. We raised you in a good, stable family to be a family man. This here . . . it just ain’t God’s way. All this here with your daughter and Shauntae . . . it’s because you stepped out of God’s plan. God intended for men and women to get married. You had sex outside of wedlock and ended up having a baby by a woman you can’t be in the same room with, let alone marry. You can’t even say that girl’s name. How you end up having a baby by her?”

  I had nev
er told my parents the circumstances under which Brianna was conceived. That was a story I planned to take to my grave. It was too embarrassing. Although, letting them think I had actually chosen to have a lifelong relationship with Shauntae by having a child with her wasn’t any less embarrassing.

  My dad continued his sermon. “Devon, your life is all out of order and you need to get it straight. Now I know my son. It’s not like you haven’t had sex since that child was born. Which means you’re still outta God’s order. Until you do things God’s way, nothing in your life is gonna go right. Nothing.”

  My father slowly pulled his bowl of cobbler back in front of him and dug around in it with his spoon. “You don’t even take that child to church on Sunday. She’s at her mother’s house seeing God knows what when she should be in church somewhere.” He shook his head. “Never thought I’d see a grandchild of mine not brought up in the house of the Lord.”

  My parents had raised us in church my whole childhood. I went up until I left for college. When they were no longer making me, I didn’t feel the need to go. Honestly, church was always boring to me and I didn’t see the point.

  “What kind of values are you instilling in the child? When she grows up and turns out to be just like her mother, you won’t have no one to blame but yourself.”

  That stung. I thought my mom saw it in my eyes. She patted my dad’s hand to get him to calm down a little. “What he means, dear, is that we want the best for Brianna. And we want to see you happy,” she said. “The way things are . . . you just don’t seem happy.”

  “Aw, Ma. I’m cool. I mean, we all know Shauntae is crazy, and I really will consider taking her to court to get Brianna. But for real, my life ain’t that bad.”

  “But it’s not as good as it could be.” My mother took my father’s hand and smiled at him. “Your father and I want you to have the same happiness we’ve had all these years.”