As she leaned over the kitchen sink, scouring the pots from dinner and rinsing the glasses, she glanced over her shoulder at him. Reclined in front of the TV, he had a satisfied look on his face and she knew that it was because of the awesome dinner she had just prepared. This made her smile, knowing that he was here with her now and as soon as she finished with the dishes she would curl up beside him and and they'd spend the rest of the evening alone, together.
After towel drying the dishes she stacked them in the cupboard and then looked down at her hands. Her fingers were all wrinkled from saturation and the polish had long since stripped away from her nails, with only the remnants lining her cuticles. She sighed, was this really her life now? She couldn't recall the last time she had a manicure, as false nails were not conducive to cooking and he just loved her baked chicken with rice and peas and gravy and potato salad on the side. Not to mention the last time she went clubbing or to a street dance with her friends. She couldn't remember the last time she saw her friends. Sure they talked on the phone but no parring. Couple-dom had sucked the fun out of her life. She no longer went shopping or to the gym because she had to rush home from work every evening so he would have a cooked meal when he got home from work. Now, her weekends were spent grocery shopping for Sunday dinner and because of this her hair was badly in need of creaming and recolouring. The book she had started reading a month ago still sat on her bedside table, collecting dust. She was beginning to lose herself, every activity she carried out now was centered around him and his happiness. And even though she loved having him around, she was slowly forgetting who she was before him.
Suddenly she felt a sharp pain; her chest tightened, her heart began to race. She couldn't breathe. Gripping the edge of the counter she began gasping for air; sharp squeals that gradually grew into chest heaving.
Startled, beau of the mo' leaped to his feet and attempted the Heimlich maneuver, figuring she was merely choking on a chicken bone. At which point she pushed him away and ran to the bathroom, slammed the door, put down the toilet seat and sat with her head between her legs. Her mind swam as she caught her breathe and tried to come to terms with what was happening to her. It wasn't asthma, she knew that for sure and she had no allergies which would cause such a reaction. She had cooked the same meal a month before so it had nothing to do with the ingredients. Still, there was only one variable which had changed since then. It was him.
In every relationship there is sacrifice, understood; but more so it should be a compromise on both parts. However ever since his girlfriend migrated and he decided she was worthy of his full attention she felt herself sinking deeper and deeper into a situation beyond her control. She had been in relationships before of course, but this one was unplanned for. She couldn't even remember making the conscious decision to be with him. It just happened. One night they were having they're regular booty call session, she came, he came and then he rolled over and fell asleep. She sat up in bed for a good 15 minutes staring at him in disbelief. Normally he'd rush to put back on his clothes and go home to his girl then she'd take a long warm bath, light up her spliff and reminisce on his hands all over her body. But here he was, still, in her bed, fast asleep, snoring at that! What the hell was going on? Scenarios ran through her mind as his chest rose and fell with ever breath and then that loud noise, like a lawn mower. That night she found it difficult to sleep. She was on the left side of the bed now but she had long since grown accustomed to sleeping in the middle of HER bed. Eventually she curled her body into his, pressing herself against his warmth and allowed his snoring to lull her to sleep. For her, this was the beginning of the end.
When she finally emerged from the bathroom he was nestled back in front of the television. She made some lame excuse about needing air, took up her car keys and headed out the door. It slammed behind her, he didn't follow.
As she turned on the engine, Tanya Stephens' 'Gangsta Blues' track 8 started.
“Wifey please come tek him back”
How appropriate. She had to laugh at herself. Tanya had summed it up quite accurately. She imagined his past girlfriend at the salon with her girls, getting a manicure, pedicure and her hair done pitying the fool that was now with him.
“One girls trash is a next girls treasure”
Then she looked at her own reflection in the rear view mirror. She had allowed herself to drop off of form. Her eyebrows were badly in need of a plucking and she could see her roots grinning. It was all her fault. She allowed the prospect of ownership distract her from a vow she had made years ago.
The Matey Pact: Never get involved. Keep them at a distance. And last but not least NEVER fall in love.
But the truth was that she did fall in love with him. His silly jokes, the way the water cascaded off of his body in the shower, the way he would brace her against the tiles easing his way deeper and deeper inside of her, when he carried her to the bed and rocked her to sleep every night. She had to admit she loved being spoilt by him, having a buddy at her disposal at all times but now his newness had faded, the novelty had worn off.
She was tired of his dirty clothes everywhere and definitely tired of having to wash them, washing machine or not. She was tired of him being everywhere, in the bathroom when she wanted to shit, in the fridge when she wanted a drink, in the bedroom when all she wanted to do was sleep. But what she missed the most was her privacy. Her time alone.
She took a left turn, shifted into a lower gear then braced herself for the many potholes that riddled the road to her secret hideaway. She needed to clear her head. Some time to think. Wasn't this what she always wanted? A man to call her own? As Tanya sang, the doubts came riding on the treble and cleft: he never really said that he broke up with his old girlfriend as far as she knew he could still be communicating with her via e-mail, phone calls whatever. Was she just setting herself up for heartache?
Fuck. She needed a spliff to calm her down. She parked the car beside the stall, took a bills bag and a rizzla from the yute inside and started her trek to the ends. This place always helped her to reflect. Not only was it a magnificent view but it was secure from any unnecessary disturbances. Neither Digicel nor C&W had signal up there. It was complete serenity. She settled into the rocking chair on the balcony, pulled the large hollow block of wood, which served as an ashtray, closer to her and put her feet up on the ledge. As she picked the seeds out and tossed them over the ledge she thought of the past year. The bad elements she had weeded out of her life, the resolutions she had made. She placed the remains into the grinder, twisting it clockwise then anti-clockwise. It took her just under a minute to build the spliff. She lit it, tilted her head back and let out a puff of smoke with a sigh. This was it.
So as the smoke cascaded above her face, drifting away with the wind, she mused on how she was going to get herself out of this situation, before she got any deeper. Devising her escape, she decided then that the best thing to do would be to get rid of him, because she could not pinpoint a viable reason for her to just leave him. Yet she had felt the constraints of commitment and it had suffocated her, literally. She needed space to breathe. This would not be the end of her, however the spliff had set with the sun and she knew it was time to go home.
She pushed her key into the door and stepped into her one bedroom apartment, all the lights were off and he was gone.
-------
Getting rid of him wasn't going to be easy. Early the next morning she saw 17 missed calls and 5 erratic messages on her phone. Apparently he was frantically trying to find her while she was M.I.A. The first message read: “r u ok? Am worried” the last: “oh shit r u ded?”. He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but he sure knew how to screw.
She laughed out loud and turned over in the bed. That night she started out in her regular position on the left side but throughout the night she gradually made her way to the center. With the pillow still between her legs she yawned and stretched, it felt good to have her bed to herself for once. Following a ray of sun, which peered in through the window, to the large clock on the wall she noticed it was only 7 in the morn and a perfect day for the beach. So she sent out the S.A.S. (Sun And Sand) to her girls and in a matter of minutes it was set. It was a girls day at the beach. No men equaled unlimited girl talk not to mention no hitching which meant they would actually get to the beach before noon for once.
Keri had the largest igloo as well as a man that worked for J. Wray and Nephew, so she was in charge of the libations, Nala, the ras, was in charge of none other than the herbal refreshments as well as the fruits, Sash dealt with the music as she always had the latest tunes courtesy of her producer boyfriend and Deena, “the head cook and bokkle washer”, brought the fish and bammy they were planning to fry on the beach.
She brought the umbrella, the beach chairs and the jokes, she always did.
45 minutes later they were on the coast of St. Thomas heading towards their secret beach spot: A cozy little nook they had found years ago after they decided that the UWI beach wasn't worth half the hassle it afforded. Umbrella set up, towels laid out, and bodies well oiled they settled in for a hassle-free day at the beach. It was as if nothing had changed. Nala and Sash set out for the water first as per usual while Deena and Keri fired up the portable blender and got started on the Pina Coladas. If it was one thing, these girls knew how to drink.
Two batches of pina colada, 3 spliffs and well into the first batch of strawberry daquiris, the sussing began.
It started with the latest update on “Video Light”. Now that wasn't her real name, but they had all given her that nickname after a video of her was broadcast on the latest bashment station. Seemingly she had gotten into some altercation of the sort with her “man” and his other woman, while at Stone Love's umpteenth Anniversary. Story had it that Stagga Man, the baddest DJ at that time,
had entered the dance with his “fiancée” only to be accosted by some jealous female, Ms. Video Light herself. But they all knew the true story, and it was no better.
VL was an entertainer tetteh, she always was. So when Stagga Man first tune did buss she decided it was in her best interest to stop ignoring his affectations and give in. Needless to say, a relationship ensued and run it's full course. She even got a drive off of the new Benz, before they repossessed it. But all good things must come to an end, and VL realized this the hard way when she went over to his apartment one night only to find another girl in her place.
Her friends were the ones who consoled her through that ordeal, plotting revenge on him. Why do you think they repossessed the car in the first place? Well, after swearing his demise, would you believe that VL, after just two weeks, decided that it was just a misunderstanding and took him back. Now Love may blind, but apparently it is also dumb and deaf. VL and Stagga Man would break up and get back together constantly. Then came the TV debut. Here is how the real story went.
VL and Stagga were going through another “rough” patch and so the girls decided to go to the Stone Love Anniversary together. As the five hottest girls in the dance the video light was stuck on them, much to Nala's dismay cause she couldn't get to light up her spliff plus the bright light was fucking up her meds. But VL, of course, was loving every minute. Her plan was that Stagga would see her there and realize how much he loved and needed her and they would get back together as usual. So you can just imagine her shock when in walks Stagga with none other than woman # 2 on his arm. Before they had any chance to hold her back, VL had already backed off the shoes and the right foot was already in transit in the air, destination: woman # 2's forehead. Then the cursing began. It's funny how Alize and Hennessey can retard any prior sense of discretion and decorum. From that moment onwards she was and has always been known as 'Video Light'. At a distance of course, because Deena was the only one who still maintained contact with her.
Now word on the street had it that she and Stagga were back together and Deena informed them that they were living together in VL's apartment and she had a new job which was supporting Stagga's habits. So much for true love.
After a hearty laugh and updates from everyone else it was her turn.
She started with a deep sigh, “Bwoy, I really needed this, trust me.”
There was resounding accordance.
“I think I had a panic attack yesterday to rhattid.”
With this, everyone turned to face her, eyebrows raised, waiting to hear the full story. She was always the level-headed logical one. After giving them the full bill and receipt, they all agreed that what she needed was time away from him.
They all knew quite specifically the perils of making the transition from matey to wife. You see back in their hay day they were known as the Infamous Matey Crew.
