CHAPTER 6: REAL DEAL

                I woke up early the next morning at 7am. I wanted to make a big breakfast and exercise before the munchkins woke up. I went in the basement to ride the exercise bike. It was a wobbly old thing. It was missing a left side pedal and sounded like the wheel would roll off at any moment. I burned more calories trying to ride it with one foot than I would anything else.

                After making breakfast and working out, I finally took my Calgon moment and soaked in a brown sugar scented bubble bath for thirty, long, much needed minutes. I could hear Kyra running through the house looking for me.

                I put on my robe and walked out to reality.

                "Good morning, mama," said Jerell clinching to my thighs.

                "Good morning, baby. Are you ready to eat breakfast?"

                I fixed their plates. Ty and my stepson were nowhere in sight. They were probably upstairs sleeping because Ty didn’t sleep with me last night. The kids and I sat down to eat. While they were acting silly at the table, I began to get excited about our evening!

                I’m going to a concert! I’m going to a concert! I sang to myself.  I couldn’t wait to see Alicia Keys and hear my song Secret Diary. I sang the chorus out loud. My babies joined in, "...your secret is safe with meeee!"

                While Jerell and Kyra played, I went in the bedroom to set out my gear and accessories for the concert.

                "Good morning," said a small voice behind me.

                It was Junior standing in my bedroom doorway.

                I glanced back, glued on a smile, and cheerfully replied, "Good morning."

                Darn, I was hoping to get some time with my babies before he got them all revved up. Oh well, I would close my door and get dressed. I looked back and he was still standing there.

                "You want something, honey?" I questioned.

                I wished he would go play with his brother and sister instead of watching me. He hesitated for a moment before replying.

                "My mama has a robe like that, but it’s shiny...and it’s pink. She has house shoes to match, too."

                Thanks for all that unwanted information. I really didn’t want to know all of that. I couldn’t stand when he compared and contrasted what I wore or did with what his mother wore or did. I didn’t want to know. Junior seemed to say it in a “my mommy has better stuff than you” tone. It had been a while since the last time I heard something like this. He did it more often when he was younger. One time he even told me his mother had the same lingerie I had, but he referred to it as an "outfit." At that point, I stopped letting him stand around in my room when my closet door was open. Ty came around the corner.

                "I think I’m going to take Junior shopping before he leaves today,” he commented.

                I didn’t respond right away. I just glanced over at him like "Ugh!" Why does he get a shopping spree? There were plenty other ways to spend time together than to go buy stuff. It wasn’t his birthday or a special occasion.  Ty was beginning to make an expensive habit here. If it wasn’t him taking Junior shopping, then it was someone else in his family coming to do it. Now, my stepson expected someone to whisk him away to the mall or some other store so he could get whatever he wanted every time he came to visit. And not one item purchased and brought back to our home was intended for neither one of my two kids. I thought we were all supposed to be family though? Guess again.

                Half of the time he left whatever they bought him in his room, still in the bags that they came in with the price tags attached for weeks and sometimes months before he touched them again. Did that sound like a child who absolutely needed another shopping spree every other weekend?

                "Where do you think we should take him?" he asked me as if it mattered.

                "I don’t think I will have time to go, I have to do some cleaning up before the concert tonight." I said confidently. I knew my excuse was valid.

                I had to get out of the “shopping spree for Junior because I have to take him back home early this weekend so he could spend time with some other man” guilt trip. Ty immediately left the room with Junior following closely behind. Oh Lawd, he probably had an attitude with me now. Why was it that I couldn’t refuse to go with him on his “spoil my son” mission without him getting upset with me? That was his mistake, not mine. Spend time with him, not money.

                We already saw money leaving our household in child support every paycheck. And my boy didn’t come here twice with the same outfits on. Not to mention he had just about every new toy that came out, anyways. Why couldn’t we all head to the park after breakfast? We could if Ty wouldn’t have promised to take his son shopping. Maybe I could convince Ty into going to the park instead of the mall. I walked out into the dining room area where he was placing their plates on the table.

                "Bay, maybe we can take the kids to the park, and then we won’t have to go too far or rush." I suggested, pausing for a response.

                He didn’t seem to be paying me much attention. He was cutting Junior’s pancakes.

                "We should still have time to go to the park after we get back. I’m just gonna take him to Foot Locker to get him some new shoes. He says he wants a pair of black and white Air Force Ones." Ty said stuffing his face with his breakfast without looking up.

                I rolled my eyes. "Oh, O.K.," I said.

                I went back to the bedroom and closed the door. I should take the kids to the park by myself. Naw, he would probably get upset about it. But he didn’t even consider my suggestion. That was why I let them do their thing while I did mine. Good thing we had the concert tonight. My mom was watching Jerell and Kyra overnight. I wanted to be able to get my groove on post concert tonight, so I better be nice. After a couple hours, Ty and Junior left for the store. It seemed like they were gone all day. I was ready to take a nap with Jerell and Kyra when they returned.

                "Are you ready to go to the park?" Ty asked when he came through the door.

                I looked at him like forget it. I was tired. Junior was bouncing around. He couldn’t wait to show off his new Air Force Ones.

                "Look Carmen. Daddy got me the new black and silver Air Force Ones! This is my favorite color,” he said spinning around to model his new shoes.

                I was on the couch watching with little expression. I had one kid under each arm, my sleepyheads.

                "Well, Ty, we are going to take a nap for about an hour or so. You two can go if you want."

                Jerell must have heard Ty say something about the park, because he rubbed his eyes and sat up.

                "I want to go, too, daddy!" he said.

                I directed him to get his shoes on then I carried my sleepy Kyra into the bedroom where we could close the door and sleep in peace.

                The phone rang. I was trying to ignore it, but the person kept hanging up and trying again. I got up to check the caller ID. It was Romi.

                "Hello" I answered, annoyed.

                "Hey girl, it’s Romi. How you doing?"

                "Fine and you?"

                "Girl, we’re on our way to get Junior in about thirty minutes. I gotta get his hair cut and buy him an outfit for the WWE match tonight. He doesn’t have anything decent to wear."

                "O.K. They went to the park but I‘ll just call Ty to bring him home."

                "Alright girl, I’ll talk to you later."

                "Bye."

                A new outfit? He must’ve been going to a photo shoot at the wrestling match. Come on, Junior told us two weeks ago that his mama took him shopping for new clothes. He doesn’t have anything decent to wear? Whatever, it ain’t my money. Most likely, it was Ty’s. She’ll want to buy her son something to match his new Air Force Ones. As a matter of fact, they probably planned that. I wouldn’t be surprised if Romi told him to ask his daddy for new shoes and she would buy him an outfit to go with them when he came back. It was probably a conspiracy. I knew that may not be the case, but it sure does work out that way, huh?

                I called Ty and told him what Romi said. Then, I went to lie back down. I didn’t want to see how he was going to let Junior leave without requiring him to clean up any mess he made in the room he shared with Jerell. Plus, I was too tired to be fake for Romi when she came. When I woke up from my nap, Junior had left. He could have at least said goodbye.  I didn’t want to deal with it anyways. Sometimes my husband would try to "push" us together after "keeping" us apart the whole weekend. It didn’t make any sense. I knew that my relationship with my stepson could have been better, much better. But I wasn’t going to force the issue. Let it flow. Oh well. I quickly perked up thinking about going to the concert. I hated to admit it- but the truth was, I was happy we could get back to normal.

                A couple years ago, Simone and I met up at my house to walk the kids to the park. Simone brought her two daughters with her. At this time both of our youngest children were fairly young infants.

                As we walked, we both complained about our relationships.

                "Something is in the water," I said, "I think all men are trippin out right about now."

                "I don’t know why he doesn’t understand that I need him to help out more, at least take my oldest daughter while I deal with the baby. Damn."

                "I know what you mean. I’m feeling like a single mother. The baby hollers and it seems like I’m the only one that hears it."

                We made it to a bench in the park just as our babies began to fuss. As we soothed them, I happened to look up and saw Junior with his teenage cousins. They were walking over to the basketball courts near the playground.

                "There goes Junior." I said, pointing him out.

                "You think he sees us over here?" asked Simone.

                "Yeah, I’m sure he’ll come over." I assured her. I put my hand up waving at him. I yelled, "Junior! Junior! Hi, Junior!"

                He walked about five feet in front of us. He stopped and looked right through us.

                "Hi, Junior!" we said in unison.

                Junior climbed up the slide in front of us and sat at the top looking over the playground. We looked at each other and gasped, with our mouths dropped wide open. Did he just ignore us? This whole scene blew my mind because if my husband were with us, he would have spoke and rushed over to greet us. But now, when it was just the baby and I he didn’t give us the time of day. Simone broke the shocking silence.

                "Gurrl, no he didn’t just dis us like a grown man would," she whispered, "Is this normal?"

                I quickly shook my head.

                "Not usually," I whispered back, "I usually can’t keep him away from the baby. He could have at least acknowledged that we were calling him..."

                I paused with some disarray, "Maybe he’s not in a good mood."

                We both looked over at him. He was swinging on the swings. His back was to us. It seemed like a dream. That was Junior, wasn’t it? I thought I remembered what the boy looked like. Maybe I made a mistake. I looked again. Yeah, that was him. He had Ty’s uniquely shaped head. I was getting confused. Should I go up to him and ask what’s wrong? What if his mother told him to treat me like that when he saw me out in public? Wait a minute she couldn’t be that petty. Could she? It was a stretch to think that way, but his reaction was bold though. Simone and I got the babies packed up to head back to my house. On our way out of the park we passed by him as he headed towards the basketball court.

                I stopped the stroller as we headed in his direction.

                "Bye, Junior. See you this weekend!" I said, waving.

                This little guy just kept on walking like he didn’t see or hear anybody. What was up with that? Should I have jumped in front of him or what? I swear my husband would never believe this. My in-laws? They would claim I was lying.

                This incident just confirmed to me that my relationship with my stepson was in jeopardy. Could he really be jealous of the baby and only seemed interested for his daddy’s sake when he came over? It was a possible argument. Whatever the theory, it changed my view of where I stood with him. How would things be the next time he came over?

                Well, truth be told- it was as though the incident had never happened.

                I took a shower and got ready while Ty was playing with the kids.

                "I’ll drop them off while you get dressed," I told him. I got their shoes on and grabbed their prepared bags. Ty kneeled down for kisses goodbye.

                "You look nice," he said looking up at me.

                I needed that, I really did. I began to feel nervous as he watched me switched up the stairs in my heels. I winked at him.

                "I’ll be right back."

                On my way over to my parent’s house, all I could think was- will we have enough time to get our groove on before it was time to leave for the concert?

Chapter 7: THE CONCERT

                The concert started late as usual. Black folks can’t ever start on time. The opening act for her was some local chic. I couldn’t remember her name. She definitely needed more practice with live performances though. I think she was nervous because her voice was trembling like a yodeler. I guess she tried to pull it off like she was blowin’. But the atmosphere was so live that we hyped her up anyways.

                "Are you enjoying yourself?" I whispered in Ty’s ear, when I sat down after dancing to the chic’s Neosoul rendition of Giving Him Something He Can Feel.

                Ty wasn’t much of a dancer so he sat in his seat looking all GQ during the show (like some down-south-barbeque-grilled-smoked-rib-tips delicious). When the lights came on for the set change, I noticed that the performance hall was packed. I saw all kinds of people from work and from back in the day. I just waved or smiled hello.

                Colette, my friend from work came over to chat during intermission. Ty got up, scooting out the row. When I turned around, I saw him talking with some female. She didn’t look familiar, at first. No, let me take that back, it was the female that was eyeing me outside the dry cleaners on Friday.

                I ended my conversation abruptly.

                "It was nice seeing you girl. We’ll talk on Monday." I said dashing off.

                I gave her a hug then excused myself across the row to my husband who was holding two drinks in his hand.

                "Hey, which one is mine?" I said butting in and giving him the “who’s this?” look.

                He played it off by focusing on the drinks. He was trying to act like he didn’t know the difference between Cognac and an Amaretto sour.

                I watched him as he fiddled. My heart raced at what was going on.

                "Hi, I’m Carmen" I said flashing a fake smile.

                "Hi, I’m Portia. Nice to meet you," she said extending her hand.

                I ignored it.

                Portia was a Latino-looking girl, but truth be told, I don’t know what she was. All I know was her stringy-long-greasy-poorly-dyed brown hair appeared to be staining her ugly polyester halter top, while she was all up in my husband’s face.

                "We work together," Ty answered. He cleared his throat, "She’s a secretary at one of our regional offices. Her boyfriend and I have actually played ball at the gym together."

                I nodded, truly uninterested in anything else he had to say and more interested in- where is her boyfriend then? And why did I have to introduce myself?

                "Enjoy the concert," Ty said directing the comment to her. He guided me back down the row.

                Portia smiled and walked off. I still have yet to see if she was with a boyfriend or what.

                When we sat down, I asked Ty what was up with that.

                "What do you mean?" he asked, slouching and sipping on his drink.

                "Never mind, I don’t want to mess up our night out. I can’t wait for Alicia to come out, can you?" I asked him.

                "Me neither," Ty said grabbing for my hand.

                I snatched away. I didn’t want to hold his hand because I was beginning to get heated inside. Did he just brush me off with an “I don’t know what you’re talking about” comment? What was going on here? I sat in my seat hoping the soulful songstress could create an atmosphere that would put me back into my good mood. And I didn’t want to hear none of those sad love songs either.

                The lights dimmed and the concert began again.

                Nobody sat still while Alicia blew the roof off!

                Ol’ girl had at least six outfit changes. Her talents ranged from piano solos to acapella to choreographed dance moves. And I have to be honest I wasn’t sure she could dance, but she was hot!

                It was all around a great performance. My feet were killing me. Although Ty was pretty stagnant, he couldn’t sit down either. Alicia was on fire!

                On the ride home, I was hyped and a little freaky. I rubbed the back of Ty’s neck as he drove.

                "Did you want to stop by the liquor store and get a bottle of Alize?" asked Ty.

                "Oh yeah. Let’s get some strawberries and whipped cream too."

                Ty smiled and licked his lips. He reached over and rubbed my thighs as he pulled into the 24-hour grocery store parking lot.

                Can you say throb? That’s all I felt in between my thighs. He left the car running as he went inside to get our stash.

                I fidgeted with the CDs looking for some mood music. I came across Luther, R. Kelly, and Mary J. Bilge. But, I must admit, when I saw our old Keith Sweat CD, I couldn’t resist. It was on!

                He came out to the prelude for I’ll Give All My Love To You.

                "Aw, you got that song on!" he said smiling at me.

                I nodded and leaned over to kiss him on the lips.

                He turned his head and gave me a side kiss. That was strike one. You know the sound you hear when someone scratches a record. Yeah, that’s how it was.

                "Humph," I said as I sat back, crossing my arms.

                Then, I thought about it. I don’t want to end this night on a sour note. I already let the "friend" at the concert go. I decided to let it go. It was petty anyways.

                We pulled into the garage still bumping Keith Sweat. Ty got out of the car in silence, carrying the bag up to the door. His mood seemed depressing. It was bringing me down.

                "Did you have your house keys?" he asked.

                "They’re not on the car key ring?" I responded nicely, but I was annoyed.

                He checked his pockets. Looking dumbfounded, I decided to dig through my little imitation Prada purse for my key.

                As we waited for the garage door to open, the freaky mood that Alicia Keys set up for us was dying down.

                Finally, the door opened. Ty walked in and put the bag on the counter. He walked back to the bathroom.

                "What is going on?" I mumbled to myself.

                Instead of moping, I got out our dusty champagne glasses from the cabinet and a bowl for the fresh strawberries.

                "I’m getting some tonight," I whispered to myself while arranging the goodies.  I did a quick "push-it" dance.

                Ty came out of the bathroom, but never did come back into the kitchen.

                Twenty minutes later, I decided to put on some music or something. I was getting sleepy but I didn’t want to miss my chance to get my groove on.

                He came out of the bedroom with a wife beater and boxers on.              

                "That was a good concert, huh?" he asked.

                "Yeah, I didn’t know she could dance like that."

                I was hesitant to point out my preparation or the fact that we were about one moment away from jumping each other’s bones until we got home.

                He looked over, noticing the goods. He grabbed a strawberry and a glass before rubbing my back.

                Mmm, I closed my eyes. Yes. Let’s get down to business. I unzipped my boots and took in a long deep breath. I just wanted to embrace the moment.

                "Did you have your Alize yet?" Ty passed my glass over.

                I took three huge gulps.          

                "Dang, Carmen. You’re gonna pass out, girl!" he shouted, smiling.

                "No, I’m not. It’s good." I said reaching for more.

                Things seemed so awkward. I didn’t know what we would end up doing next. He led me to the couch. I hoped this would be the beginning of our erotic night together.

                Instead of letting the music play, Ty turned on the T.V. I leaned over to lie on his chest. He stroked the side of my body as we sipped our drinks.

                The more we sat, the more we drank. Eventually, the more we drank, the more we touched each other.

                Ty shut off the T.V. then he shut off the music.

                Hold up. I didn’t want to make love to pure silence.

                "Why did you turn off the music?" I asked whispering in his ear.

                He answered while we kissed, "Because it’s too loud. I don’t want to get a headache since I’m drinking."

                I sighed and rolled my eyes in my lids. That was stupid. But, I didn’t say anything. I just wanted to taste his juicy lips in mine.

                The foreplay was probably about five minutes long. Ty was so buzzed he pulled off my gaucho pants and jumped right in. It took another six minutes from there.

                Don’t get me wrong, it was sweaty and heated but super quick. By it being that quick I didn’t even get to a climax yet. Let alone my big O. I was disappointed. As a matter of fact, I felt used. My disappointment turned to anger.

                "Let me up," I said, pushing him away. He knew better than to sell me short like that. I was not a happy camper, my fuse was lit. I locked myself into the bathroom and sat on the toilet in tears. "What happened to us," I wondered aloud. Ty learned early on in our relationship that reaching my climax was necessary for my happiness with our sex life. This was becoming far too common for us. The changes we were experiencing in our sex life were beginning to be painful.

                Ever since our first sexual encounter together, I must say, Ty was laying the pipes right. I was reaching my orgasm about eighty-five to ninety percent of the time, excluding the occasional quickies that were more fun than orgasmic.

                But since Ty and I began having children of our own, in the last couple years, my O experiences had been decreasing drastically.            

                I blamed a lot of it on me having kids. My body changed and I hid myself from him. I was afraid for him to see my chunky rolls and huge pouch under my belly button. I guess you could say I would push him away from embarrassment of how I looked. My body went from a perfect ten (Yes, Ty said I had the bomb body) to about a six or seven.

                Another contributing factor to our poor sex life was his negative comments comparing my kids to his son. "Junior never whined like that" or "What’s wrong with Kyra? Junior never ate like that!" or "Junior was potty trained by now." Why would he do that? It pssted me off and eventually turned me off.

                Those remarks projected to me that I wasn’t doing my job as a mother. It hurt me to think that my man did not think I was doing a good job as a mother. Deep down, I knew he probably didn’t mean exactly what he said, but what did he mean? I did not know because he did not share his true feelings and thoughts with me. What he was expressing to me was anger, but anger about what?