door. To my surprise, it’s not Sasha. Jakim decided to stop by—unannounced.
“What’s up, Shana?” he says standing there smiling.
“What the fuck do you want, Jakim?”
“What, I can’t stop by no more?”
“No, you can’t just be stopping by. Why are you here?”
“I just came to see how you were doing,” he says.
“Niggah, I’m doing fine without you. I know what you want, and it ain’t happening. Go get your dick wet with one of your trifling hoes down the street,” I angrily state.
“Shana, it ain’t even like that….”
“Niggah, didn’t I hang up on you just this morning?! Didn’t you get the fucking hint? Bye!” I shout. I try to slam the door in his stupid-looking face, but he blocks it with his foot.
“C’mon, Shana, I’ve been thinking about you. I’ve missed you, baby,” he says with his foot still jammed in between the door.
“Move your foot, Jakim!” He’s still standing there, pleading. Damn, is my pussy that good to niggahs? I can’t really get that mad with him, because I know I still love him. He’s my heart, but he needs to know that I should come first in his life. He thought we were going to break up and he’d be able to fuck other bitches. Then when he got done, he’d come running back to me, begging for forgiveness. No! It doesn’t work that way. I got too much respect for myself. I’m not one of these stupid bitches in the street he can game and have his way with. After being together for two years, he should’ve known better. He should’ve known how I get down. But I guess he wasn’t taking notes.
“Jakim, I ain’t playing with you. Please move your fucking foot!” I continue to shout.
“What’s going on out here?” my mother asks, coming out of her bedroom tying her robe together.
“Fucking Jakim won’t leave the door!” I scream.
“Jakim, respect my daughter’s wishes and leave here,” my mother calmly tells him.
“But I just want to talk to her, Ms. Banks,” Jakim says.
“It’s obvious that she doesn’t want to talk to you right now, so do yourself a favor and come back and speak to her another day. Don’t get her more upset than she already is,” she tells him.
Jakim backs off, removing his foot from the door. He apologizes to my mother for the noise and disturbance he’s caused. He then stares at me and leaves. I stand in the doorway and watch him drive off in his black Nissan Maxima before closing the door. I turn around and see my mother standing there watching me, and watching Jakim leave.
“You still love him,” she says. “I can see it in your eyes.”
“Yeah, right,” I try to deny.
“It’s okay, Shana. We all go through the same problems with men. It’s just knowing when and how to deal with them,” she advises before going back to her bedroom to her own damn man.
My mother sees right through me most times. She knows that I’m still in love with Jakim, and she knows how stubborn I can be. But he fucked up and needs to be taught a lesson.
Just as I’m about to give up on that bitch, Sasha, showing up, the doorbell rings again. I go open the door, and there’s Sasha standing in the doorway smiling.
“Bitch, you know what time it is?!” I shout.
“Yeah, and your day ain’t wasted,” she quickly responds.
“Fuck you!”
“Yeah, I love you, too. C’mon, let’s go.” She grabs me by my shirt and pulls me out the door.
As we’re driving, listening to music and staring at cuties, Sasha says, “I saw Jakim turn off your block. What’s the deal wit dat shit? I thought y’all broke up.”
“Yeah, we did. But you know, he’s still sweatin’ a sista.”
“Word? I saw him with that bitch, Theresa, the other day,” she says, sharing unimportant news with me. “He was all hugged up with her in the park and shit.”
“Well, thank you for that useful bit of information,” I unpleasantly say to her. She could have kept that kind of news to herself.
We pull up to Mickey D’s, because I haven’t had anything to eat since those two sausages I had for breakfast. Sasha wants to pull through the drive-thru, but I prefer to go inside; the drive-thru always fucks up my order. I persuade her to park and eat inside; we’re in no rush to go anywhere. As soon as we enter the restaurant, three niggahs start clocking me. I just turn my head and ignore ‘em. Only one of ‘em is cute, but his shoes are jacked up. Sasha pays them no attention either. She just stands on line with me and looks up at the menu. I turn around to see if they’re still gawking, and yes, all three of them still are. I just sigh and continue to stand on line. As we approach the counter, I can feel the bitches who work here hating already, some of them staring and screwing up their faces at us. I place my order with the cashier, who has a bit of an acne problem on her face.
“Yo, do they still got that game where you connect the dots?” Sasha says loudly enough for everyone to hear.
“You’re wrong, bitch,” I say laughing. The cashier looks up at us in disgust and continues to take our orders. She looks like she doesn’t want to be here. Me, personally, I could never take a job at McDonald’s and get paid minimum wage.
“I don’t wanna see any foreign skin floating in my Pepsi,” Sasha goes on, causing me to laugh again. We’re so wrong, not much caring that we’re probably hurting her feelings. But she never says anything back to us; she just keeps on being polite and filling our orders. A few people on line with us think we’re funny, while others look on with disapproval and shame.
We receive our food and go and look for a table. “Yo, shorty, let me holla,” I hear someone whisper. I know which one of the three guys is trying to call me out, but I don’t answer. I just sit down at a table and look the other way.
“Yo, Shana, look at them three sorry bums over there clocking us.”
“Yeah, I already saw ‘em.” We continue to eat, laugh and make fun of the three guys who’ve finished their meals a while ago but remain at their table, probably trying to cough up enough courage to approach us.
“It’s a damn shame how some men can be so soft when they see pussy. A scared man can never get none,” I say.
Sasha is dying laughing, almost choking on her drink. She gobbles down her last bit of fries and we’re ready to leave. We get up and head out the door, still ignoring the three guys. They follow us out into the parking lot, and one of them finally gets the courage to shout out, “Yo, shorty, come here. Can I chat with you for a minute?” And it’s not the cute one. It’s the black, monkey-lookin’ muthafucka!
I just keep walking to the car. He should’ve been figured it out, but he keeps coming toward us, thinking he’s going to get some play. As I’m about to get in the car, he grabs a hold of the passenger door, preventing me from closing it.
“Excuse me!” I yell.
“I’m sayin, though, a brotha can’t get no love from y’all?” he asks.
Seeing him up close is even worse. His lips are dry and cracked. His skin is so black it looks purple. His clothes are wack and dirty, and his hair is nappy. Shit, I could go on with so many things that are wrong with him. “Ee-ill, niggah,” I say looking up at him in disgust. “Did I look like I was interested?”
“Blackie, please don’t touch my car,” Sasha adds. He looks over at her for a second and then focuses his attention back on me. I don’t even want him near me, and he has the nerve to be trying to talk to me as his two friends stand by and watch.
“I’m