A Short Story by the Around the Way Girl

Don't Get It Twisted

“Damn, I need a man.” Yamaris thought speeding down the dark street as if she was racing home to a man’s warm embrace. She was driving so fast that she almost missed the newly placed holiday decorations on the marquis that informed all who entered that they were approaching Lords Landing Estates. She spoke out loud to herself and said, “Thank God it’s Friday- fa real.” She smiled as she thought about her chocolate Labrador Charlie and her white Poodle Cuzi anxiously waiting and watching in the front window for her to return home. She drove up to the driveway of her four bedroom Georgian Colonial style house as she had hundreds of times before.

On this cold December night something out of the ordinary stopped her from pulling into the two car garage. As she eased into the driveway, she could see that it was a package that was left by Ray, her regular UPS driver. A familiarity had grown between Yamaris and the UPS driver over the past three years and dozens of deliveries and they’d agreed that when a signature was not required, he would leave packages hidden behind the bushes. The 3’ by 5’ box was sticking out from the neatly trimmed bushes that framed the base of the large bay window in front of the two story brick house. There was no telling why it was just laying out on the manicured lawn, probably the work of the neighborhood cat Maxx. She couldn’t imagine what was in the box because she thought she had received all of the designer shoes and handbags that she’d ordered on line during one of her “down in the dumps” episodes a few weeks ago. She thought, “My shopping addiction is getting out of control again.”

Curiosity about the package and dread about the credit card bill made her stop in the middle of the driveway, shift her smoky granite mica Lexus RX 10 into park and get out to pick up the package. Her eyes immediately searched the box for the label that would reveal which designer was responsible for this latest attack on her platinum credit card. “Whatever it is, it’s going back” she said out loud. Any traces of sensibleness went away when her eyes focused on the Luis Vuitton address in the corner of the big box. It was the Alma Nomade bag that she’d impulsively ordered on line last Saturday night while drinking a bottle of $3 Trader Joe’s Chardonnay. Suddenly her mood lifted and in that moment she knew that she was not returning the bag. “If I could only find a man that could make me feel as good as I feel when get a new designer bag I would be alright”, she chuckled.

She opened the back seat and carefully placed the box as if it was a small child and she was going to drive a long distance instead of the 10 yards into the garage. As she backed away from the car to close the door, she was startled by a familiar stranger. There stood her new neighbor. He had moved in about a month ago and they had said hello a few times in passing as they pulled out of their driveways early in the morning. “Oh, shoot you scared me”, she told him in a voice that revealed her New York accent and louder than either of them expected. “Hey neighbor, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Solomon Garcia” Solomon said with a slight southern drawl and a huge smile revealing milky white teeth against the backdrop of his dark chocolate brown skin. Yamaris extended her hand and Solomon took her small soft hand into both of his and stared intently in her eyes. “Yamaris, Yamaris Gilead”, she stammered. “Hmmm, nice big strong hands”, she thought.

Solomon’s 5’11 and 235lbs muscular frame towered over Yamaris’ petite 5’3 140 lbs body. Solomon looked at his new neighbor from head to toe and did not try to hide his pleasure. He couldn’t remember ever meeting anyone a pretty as Yamaris. His wide open eyes took in her perfectly neat bob that did not have a hair out of place, the expensive but understated diamond cross that lay on her chest , and the silk blouse that next to her skin looked like whipped cream on a caramel macchiato. She wore a virgin wool pencil skirt that showed just enough of her shapely legs that extended to a pair of 3 inch heels. Solomon took in the beauty standing in front of him and though, “Yeah, I’m gonna hit that”.
As they stood in the cold, the classical woodsy notes of Chanel No. 5 drifted out of the shiny car and draped around them like cashmere wrap. Solomon came out of his trance-like state and said “Well I’m glad we finally met. I’ve noticed you on your way to work in the morning. You’re very beautiful; your husband is a very lucky man.” Yamaris flashed her signature smile and responded confidently, “Well thank you very much, but I’m not married.” Solomon feigned surprise at the revelation although her bare ring finger revealed as much when he had squeezed her hand.

Yamaris started to shiver, but tried to ignore how cold she felt because she wanted to see where this was going, after all, “I am a woman and I have needs”, she thought. Yamaris was distracted by the dogs barking in the background and she looked towards the window. Solomon glanced down and noticed Yamaris’ nipples protruding through her blouse. “You must be freezing, we should get out of the cold” Solomon announced. “Would you like to come inside for a drink?” Yamaris said taking both of them by surprise.

Solomon raised his right eyebrow and thought, “Damn I didn’t think it would be this easy”. “Sure, why not”, he responded. Having just returned from coaching a basketball game, Solomon was wearing a warm-up suit and it was not helping to contain the erection he was fighting. He followed her into the house and through the laundry room which opened into the kitchen where he had to duck to avoid bumping into the expensive looking cookware that hung from the ceiling. Yamaris motioned to him to wait there while she continued into the dimly lit, stylishly decorated living room. “I’ll be right back, make yourself comfortable” she motioned towards the sofa.

Solomon’s mind was racing while he stood in the living room looking around. He picked up a heavy silver tone frame that held a picture of a Yamaris sitting on a man’s lap with her arms wrapped tightly around him. “Probably her brother.”, he thought. “Did she really just invite me in for a drink?” he asked himself as he heard her open a door to let the dogs out into the backyard. Solomon could not believe his luck. “I was going to wait at least a few weeks; maybe even take her out to dinner first!” he whispered to himself. He frantically patted himself down looking for his wallet and praying that it held a condom when he realized that he had left his wallet in his car. “A fine independent woman like that is going to have condoms of her own”, he assured himself.

Yamaris was so excited that she ran up the carpeted stairs 2 steps at a time with Charlie and Cuzi following right behind her. “I was going to wait few days ; maybe even cook him dinner, but this works out just fine!” she whispered to Charlie and Cuzi who were running in circles around her. “I’ll be right down. I’m changing into something more comfortable. I’m kind of nervous; I mean I barely know you. I hope you don’t think I’m too forward”, she yelled down to Solomon while she quickly changed into her grey velour Juicy Couture track suit.

“Oh no, you’re fine”, he yelled back up to her. “I guess the jump off will be right here in the living room since she didn’t invite me upstairs. I sure hope this doesn’t get complicated since we live right next door to each other”, Solomon thought.

She glanced at the silver picture frame resting on her vanity table that held the black and white photo of the love of her life, Sean. “I wish you were here Papi so I wouldn’t have to go through this”, she said aloud. Yamaris commanded Charlie and Cuzi to stay and they obediently healed next to one another. The investment in obedience school was well worth it she decided. She couldn’t have Charlie and Cuzi in the way right now. Yamaris checked herself in the mirror and decided to put some lip gloss on before she ran back downstairs.

When she walked into the living room in her bare pedicured feet, Solomon imagined himself sucking on her toes while she moaned and groaned in ecstasy. She sat down next to him and the plush couch seemed to swallow her up. Yamaris was sitting so close to Solomon that when she asked him what he’d like to drink, he could feel her minty breath on his face. Staring into her eyes, Solomon requested Hennessy. The fact that she was staring back into his eyes without flinching was turning him on even more. Solomon’s imagination had already fast forwarded to her being on top of him staring at him just as intently. “Well you are in luck, because I do have some Hennessy in the bar”, Yamaris cooed. “Come on into the kitchen with me while I fix your drink”, Yamaris playfully pulled on Solomon’s sleeve.
Once they were in the kitchen, Yamaris got on her tippy toes and reached towards two snifters on the bottom shelf of the glass front cabinets. Recognizing that in her bare feet she couldn’t reach the glasses, Solomon eased up behind her and reached over and grabbed the two glasses. “Thanks”, she giggled.

Yamaris poured the cognac slowly and waited for Solomon’s indication to stop pouring. When the glass was ¼ full, Solomon raised his hand. Yamaris cleared her throat and said, “Before you have your drink, I’d like to ask a favor of you.” “Um, sure”, Solomon replied hesitantly. “Well, my garbage disposal is broken and since it’s the weekend, I won’t be able to get it serviced until Monday. It’s just clogged and I have the instruction manual and everything. All you have to do is remove one section of it, clear out the clog and replace it. It should only take an hour or two”, she said tilting her head to the side as if that would soften the request.

Solomon instantly lost his erection. “Who does she think she is?” he wondered. Solomon’s thoughts were all over the place, “She’s got a lot of nerve asking me to repair something in her house. We JUST met and she’s not ALL THAT. This chick is nuts.”
When Solomon recovered from the initial shock of her request, he put his drink down on the marble countertop so angrily that the glass hitting the marble created a three note melody. More concerned with her glassware and her countertop than Solomon’s reaction, Yamaris shouted “Uh, what’s the problem?”.

Suddenly Solomon’s southern drawl was gone and he announced, “Look, I don’t know anything about fixing garbage disposals and we just met. Besides, that’s not what I came here for”. Visibly irritated, Solomon headed for the door. He turned around to face Yamaris and said, “No offense, but you might want to pay someone to do that.” Yamaris threw her head back, laughing and said, “Whatever you came over here for; you might want to pay someone for THAT!”

The end.

Cheaters DO Win!

When we were children, our parents and teachers told us that “cheaters never win”. Well that’s a damn lie, because apparently cheaters DO win. Everyone has either cheated, been cheated on, or knows someone who has. Us ‘regular’ folks deal with this practically on a daily basis but lately there have been several high profile cheaters in the news. Among the politicians, we have an athlete sprinkled in the bunch.

CHEATER	LOSS
Eliot Spitzer, Governor of New York	Lost his governorship, BUT his wife stood by him and he is an independently wealthy man.
Mark Sanford, Governor of South Carolina	Wife said that he regained her trust and that they would save their marriage.
John Edwards, Presidential candidate	His wife has forgiven him and taken him back; they are working on their marriage.
Steve McNair, Quarterback	Lost his life but was still hailed as a great man and great football player at his memorial service.

Now obviously, McNair suffered the greatest possible loss, his life. I don’t want to discount the fact that McNair was murdered and arguably, no one deserves that fate for a transgression such as infidelity. But he is no longer with us and is not suffering, however is family is left to suffer.

The commonality between these cheaters is not simply that they are public figures who cheat, but that they all leave in their wake humiliated wives and families. Their wives have to deal with the shame and embarrassment often felt by the victims of illicit affairs and their children inherit tainted legacies.

Today Oprah Winfrey interviewed the wife of former Virginia Senator John Edwards. It was a painful interview to watch. Although the story broke back in the middle of 2008, Elizabeth Edwards was still stuttering as she answered very personal questions about her husband’s affair and it’s affect on her and her family. You could tell that she was still having trouble even verbalizing the situation. She seemed to talk more freely about her terminal cancer prognosis than about the affair that her husband had. It was apparent that although she’s written a book about making the best of what she has right now, she is still having difficulty speaking about her husband’s indiscretions.

We’ve been hearing these stories about cheaters and the blaring common denominator in all of them is that the cheaters come out on top- even after they are caught. Other than the public humiliation, there are no substantial consequences for the cheater such as losing the one thing that they all (except for McNair, because he can’t comment) claim is the most important thing to them- their wives and their families.

The fact that there are no consequences is as good as condoning cheating. The sample of high profile cheaters that actually got caught and exposed in the media is probably a small fraction of the folks that actually cheat and do not get caught.

The sloppiest cheater of them all, McNair, probably did his wife a favor. McNair’s wife actually comes out to some degree, ahead of the game. She is free of a cheating man and she and her children probably inherit his entire estate while Edward’s wife is stuck with the cheater and as she battles cancer, and will likely have to share her family’s income with his mistress and their suspected illegitimate child produced from his affair. Edward’s wife admitted that since his exposure, he has continued to lie about seeing the “other woman” and she couldn’t even bring herself to discuss the possibility that a child was involved. I hope that she is not surprised that he is STILL a liar, because he knows that there will not be any consequences for this crime against his family. After being exposed he lost nothing, so I guess cheaters do win.

Know Your Role

The other day, I was talking to a male friend of mine, who happens to be married, about why marriages don’t seem to last these days. I told him that I think that marriages don’t seem to last because people do not know their roles.

I believe that the man is the leader of the family. He is the President, the CEO, and Managing Partner. Now, the caveat to that statement is that he must be a true leader with integrity and having the best interests of the family in mind at all times. On the same token, I believe that the woman is the Vice President, First Lady and second in command. Should the husband not be able to perform his duties at any time, the wife should be able to step in at a moment’s notice. I know that some people might think that this all sounds old fashioned, and really, it is. But old fashioned used to work and the status quo doesn’t seem to.

Whoever made up that ‘Superwoman’ nonsense was just wrong for that. And we bought into it! We bought into living in mini mansions and driving expensive cars, taking exotic vacations, and financing our whims. We bought into living beyond our means and needing two incomes. As a result, we lost sight of our roles and what is really important. We work to be able to pay for day care and be away from our children and families the entire day just so that we can work some more.

Men should work to support the family financially and women should take care of the home. In order for my theory to work, the husband must be able to support the entire family on his own. If a woman is performing her wifely duties, the husband’s life is made that much easier. She should be his cheerleader and biggest supporter. All he has to do is focus on earning a living and being awesome at whatever he does. The children should always be clean, happy, and healthy. The home should always be spotless, clothes clean, meals freshly prepared and the sex always hot.

If a woman is working forty plus hours a week – how is she supposed to perform her wifely duties well and live a healthy and happy life? How can a woman be expected to work a full time job and then come home and take care of the kids, cook, and then give her husband phenomenal sex- all of which amount to another full time job? Yeah, good luck with that. It’s the law of triple constraints- pick 2 because 1 is going to suffer.

For men who don’t know their role:

Don’t expect your wife to look like a celebrity sex symbol.

Don’t compare your wife to Beyonce- the “hottest chick in the game” if you are not the biggest baller in the game. It is Beyonce’s job to have a banging body and to look the way she looks. If you are not making enough money so that your wife can stay home and work out all day with a personal trainer and have a salon in the house and a make-up artist on call, then you should not expect her to look like Beyonce. Note: if you cannot provide those things, then a ‘Beyonce’ will not have you anyway.

Don’t expect porno level sex from your wife.

If you are not making enough money so that your wife can stay home, do cardio and pump a little iron between naps, then do not expect marathon, nasty, Heather Hunter type sex. After working for 9 plus hours and then commuting for 2 plus hours a day, nobody feels like performing sexual acrobatics with or for you.

Don’t expect seven course gourmet meals.

If you are not making enough money so that your wife can stay home and cook all day- don’t expect dinner to be sitting on the table with steam coming up from the mash potatoes and iced cold sweet tea in the glass when you walk through the door tired and hungry. She will be tired and hungry too.

Don’t expect a clean house.

If you are not making enough money so that your wife can stay home and clean all day or supervise a housekeeper, then you cannot expect to come home to a clean house. What you should expect to see is her panties on top of your drawers on the floor where you stepped out of them the night before. She is just as tired as you are. And don’t be annoyed and argue that because she is a woman, she should not be messy. She’s performing the role of man (working a full time job) and should have the same privileges.

For women who don’t know their role:

Don’t expect your husband to make baller type money.

Don’t compare your husband to Jay Z if you are not the hottest chick in the game. Keep your nails done and your wig right, and your body tight. If you are not keeping his life simple and his stress level as low as possible, he can’t do his best to support the family. Note: If you are not taking care of yourself, then a ‘Jay Z ‘ will not have you anyway.

Don’t expect porno level sex from your husband.

If you are not holding it down at home and keeping his stress level down, don’t expect him to feel like breaking you off after a long hard day at work. After working for 9 plus hours and commuting for 2 plus hours, nobody is going to feel like turning you out.

Don’t expect romantic dinners in five star restaurants.

If you are not fixing great meals on a regular basis, he has not motivation to surprise you with a nice dinner out. He’s too tired from working all day and then coming home to wash a couple of loads of clothes so that he’ll have clean drawers to wear to work the next day.

Don’t expect a clean house.

Expect to see him step out of his clothes and leave them where they lay. He’s tired from working and he’s a man that is not being taken care of.

Marriage is a partnership and a series of tradeoffs. I think that if people
define and agree on their roles and responsibilities it might be easier to stick
it out through the tough times.

Michael Jackson- The King Of Pop

When I woke up this morning, about 2 hours late, I was exhausted. I had this sad, drained feeling I’ve had the morning after a loved one has passed away. Yes, Michael was a loved one. Yesterday, when I heard that Michael Jackson had died, I went through a series of emotions and even became teary eyed. I was in the library and a black woman walked up to take her place on line. She was crying and frantically dialing her cell phone. We made eye contact and she blurted out “Michael Jackson just died!”

I called my mother right away and asked her to tell me it wasn’t so. I asked her to tell me that Michael Jackson is not dead. I called my Mom in Florida for two reasons. One reason is because my parents are retired and keep the television locked on all of the cable news channels all day. Second, because that’s who I call when something important happens to me. At the time, I couldn’t really identify what I was feeling or why I was so affected. The feelings were familiar though.

Michael Jackson was like that brother or cousin, that did time, or lived an ‘alternative’ lifestyle, or turned his back on the family but when they die, hey- they are still family. So the family buries them with dignity, some folks whisper about the bid he did or the time he was arrested or the allegations of jack-assery, and move on. But you love them anyway, because they are family. Michael was part of the Black family. He was an extraordinary artist and it is because of that people all over the world loved him but Black people love him and claim him as our own even though at times he did not claim us.

I have to admit that I haven’t been an ‘active’ fan of his persona for many years. The media reports of his personal life really depicted the life of a tortured soul. I always remained a fan of his music and tried to remember him with his jheri curl, dark skin and wide nose that he seemed to hate, but we all loved so much. The scary looking face that had become his, to me was not the real Michael Jackson.

As I go through my day, I am hoping that the folks that I work with that feel entitled to vocally criticize President Obama in the office don’t feel equally as entitled to vocally disrespect Michael Jackson’s memory the day after his death. I’m fully aware of the allegations of bad acts on his part, but like our other cousin OJ Simpson and his deceased ex wife, I’m also aware that he was never convicted of a crime.

Farrah Fawcett also died yesterday and I was saddened by her death as well. It wasn’t the same sadness that I felt about Michael Jackson’s death, but sadness none the less. Farrah Fawcett represented a carefree time in my life when television was fun and benign. Farrah was also a role model for developing a brand for oneself and making her dreams come true on her terms and showing the world that she was a great actress and not just a “pretty face”. Just like Michael Jackson, her face and behavior became progressively unattractive over time, but again I chose to remain a fan of her acting and remember her pre-botox and plastic surgeries.

Prior to her death she released a documentary memorializing her struggle with cancer and her fight for her life. The film showed her at her weakest and most unattractive state. What was remarkable about the documentary is that she wanted to bring attention to the type of cancer that she had-

anal cancer. What is sad is that the media down played the anal cancer spin and didn’t give it the attention that it should have received because anal cancer is a personal, embarrassing topic. I’m not sure why it’s so embarrassing since we all have anuses.

What folks need to know is that the risk factors for anal cancer include having human papillomavirus (HPV), having many sexual partners, and having receptive anal intercourse (anal sex). You have to admire a person that would say to the world “I have anal cancer”.
So the world is less two significant souls today. I hope their souls rest in peace because they have earned it.