She Ain't Worth It ~ Part 2

Here's part two of this story.  Just like last week, this story has a lot of profanity in it. So if you're sensitive about that you may want to steer clear, or read another post (smile).  All feedback is greatly appreciated.

Once Quintina had put on her jeans and t-shirt, she shoved the shoe box under her arm, grabbed her purse in one hand and her keys in the other. She ran down the stairs and out the door. Quin, where are you going? She thought. You know you are not supposed to be drinking and driving. Fuck that, this is not something that I’m gonna let slide.


Quintina got off I240 at the Hollywood exit and went north. When she reached Dalana’s house on Brookmeade, she started beating on the door like she was the police.

“Hold on, goddammit,” Dalana yelled. When she opened the door and saw that it was Quintina, she just stepped back and let her in. “Quin, why are you looking all torn up on your birthday?”

“I’m on a rampage. Call that Tamesha bitch. I got a few choice words that I want to say to her,” Quintina said throwing her purse and keys on the couch. She had left her gun in the car under the passenger seat.

“What happened? She called the house or something?”

“Naw that bitch was in my house, in my bed, fucking my husband.”

“What? How do you know that?”

“The raunchy bitch sent me a tape of them. You remember when I told you that we had set the camcorder set up in the bedroom.” Quintina had started pacing back and forth across the room. Then she went into the kitchen and got one of Dalana’s coolers out of the refrigerator.

“Yeah, I remember. Shit, those are some bold muthafuckas. See, this is your own damn fault. If you hadn’t have been letting Tez get away with all that shit, this would have never happened. They think that you’ll never do anything.”

“I don’t think Cortez knew she was taping it. It looked like he was too torn up to even pay attention to anything she was doing besides freaking on him.”

“Don’t start making excuses for that niggah. That’s what you always do. Whether he knew she was taping it or not, he still fucked her.”

“I know. Get that bitch on the phone.”

“She’s at Schrhonda’s place right now,” Dalana said picking up the phone. “I need to pop some popcorn, this is gonna be better than the Tyson vs. Holyfield fight.”

Quintina was standing in the doorway when Schrhonda and Tamesha arrived. Tamesha automatically got all up in Quintina’s face. She started bragging about how she had Quintina’s man wrapped around her little finger and how she can take Cortez from Quintina whenever she got ready. Quintina tried her best to keep her composure but she couldn’t maintain. She finally got fed up with all the bullshit that Tamesha was shooting off about and suddenly grabbed a handful of Tamesha’s hair and punched her in the face. Then she pushed her out the door and let her fall down the steps onto the concrete carport.

After Tamesha had hit the ground, Quintina noticed that she had a big plug of her hair in her hand. She looked at Tamesha’s head and immediately noticed the patch where the hair had come from. Quintina almost started laughing before Tamesha stumbled to her feet, holding her head and cursing.

“Bitch, you got me fucked up.” Then she punched Quintina in the mid-section, making her doubled over in pain. Tamesha began to rant and rave again while Quintina was trying to recover. She had all sorts of murderous thoughts going through her mind but couldn’t figure out how she could carry them out without it resulting in a 25 to life prison sentence.

“Bitch, Cortez is my man first, hoe. If it wasn’t for your square ass, I would be Mrs. Cortez Robinson. But that’s alright though. I can still get the dick whenever I want it. You think that was the first time? Oh no, honey. We have been fucking since day one. He came over my house the first night y’all met at that basketball game. Yeah, he had you thinking there wasn’t anything between us. That’s just how we do it. Even though he acts hard he can’t live without this pussy. Now, what do you have to say about that?”

Quintina finally straightened up and looked Tamesha dead in the eyes. Tears partially impaired Quintina’s vision but she wiped them away. Quintina felt as if she were moving in slow motion. It was sort of like her body was moving by itself because it surprised even her when she rushed into Tamesha like a bull. When Tamesha hit the ground with a loud thump, she moaned in agony. Then Quintina straddled her and began to repeatedly pound her fists into Tamesha’s face.

She talked to her in a surprisingly calm voice, almost scary. “You know what, hoe? You can have that hoe-ish ass niggahs. I don’t need all this drama. I hope all the dick you’ve been getting over the years has been worth this ass whipping. Both of you selfish motherfuckers deserve each other.”

Quintina pounded until her arms got tired and her fists began to throb. Once on her feet, she coughed up a big blob of phlegm and spit it in Tamesha’s face. “I hope you two have a wonderful and fulfilling life together.” Then she began walking slowly towards her car. Before Quintina could reach her car door—SMACK, she arched her back in pain and turned around quickly. She saw that Dalana was holding Tamesha who had a bat in her hand. Tamesha didn’t say a word; she just stared at Quintina through her swollen eyelids.

Quintina remembered seeing the bat propped against the wall under the carport when she and Tamesha had come out of the house but was too distracted to worry about where it came from. She knew it hadn’t been there when she first arrived at Dalana’s house. Or was it? She was too tired to figure it out.

“Bitch, I ought to shoot your ugly ass right now but I ain’t trying to be going to jail for no piece of shit like you,” Quintina said opening her car door and sliding in.

Shoo Bugaboo

If you have no idea what a bugaboo is, let me explain. There was a guy that was interested in me but he called too much and he wanted to come over my house all the time and he would constantly asked me when we were going to have sex. The only “date” we went on was when we went down by the river. I sat in the car and he sat on the bank until a rat ran across his foot and made him drop his beer. He was ready to go home after that.

The http://www.urbandictionary.com/ has several different definitions for a bugaboo but this seems to fit my situation perfectly.

I mean this guy was a 41 year old teenager. He would run back and forth from my house to his mom’s house three or four times a day talking about he was board. When I pulled into the driveway, he instantly came outside and walked across the street as if he was sitting right in front of the door or window waiting on me to get home. Sometimes he would be sitting on the porch or in his car watching my house. He said his mother told him that he smothers people and he asked me if I agreed. When I told him yes, he got all bent out of shape.

Never in my life had I known a guy that constantly fished for compliments.

Dude: “I’m ugly ain’t it? Don’t you think I’m ugly?”

Me: “No, you’re not ugly.”

Then he’d turn around with his butt to me.

Dude: “I’m fine ain’t it? My cousin said that all of the men in my family were fine.”

Me: “Well, you’re attractive.”

In all actuality, he was ugly and he was not fine at all. He had hazel eyes but the bloodshot practically made his eyes look like two big brown blobs. Sometimes he would wear the same clothes two days in a row. He smelled like beer every day no matter what time it was. Even when he said that he had just gotten out of the shower, he smelled like beer.

He was also a bum. He had no job and no prospects. Dude couldn’t go job hunting (even if he wanted to) because his license was suspended for a DUI. Plus he hadn’t paid the guy down the street for the car and I think he was afraid he would get pulled over and get the car taken. Every day he asked me or several of the other neighbors to buy him beer when his mama didn’t buy him any. Dude begged for money to add minutes to his cellphone. And I hear he tried to pay his phone bill with a check that he found in the car that the guy down the street gave him. (Not sure how true that was but hey you never know.) One day all I had was a bag of breaded chicken patties in my freezer, about six of them. He begged for those. And came back the next day asking me what I was cooking.

Like I said, I put up with this for a week and a week only. I told him that THIS whatever THIS was wasn’t going to work because he required more of me than I could give. “What do you mean?” he asked. I told him that the constant sex talk was getting on my nerves but it was so much more than that. Don’t get me wrong, if I had really been into him, honey child he wouldn’t have had to ask. But he already knew why I wasn’t that into him. I had told him several times throughout that week until I got tired. Then D started telling him he smelled like beer. It had nothing to do with him hearing me say it because I never said it around D. My son is very perceptive and not afraid to speak whatever is on his mind.

Not a day passed that Dude didn’t ask me when I would have sex with him or why I was acting like I didn’t want him. It was so annoying. Everything about him annoyed me. His walk, the way he talked, his smell, the stupid things he said, foolishness all the way around.

I had never in my life met a guy in his forties with so many strikes against him. And what’s sad is that he thought he was a catch. He really thought he had it going on with his drunk, no job having, begging, want to fine behind.

Goodbye bugaboo and good riddance.

She Ain't Worth It ~ Part 1

I usually don’t write in third person but I decided to switch it up a little bit. I’m revisiting a scene in “Her Leftovers” where Tamesha decides to let her presence be known. WARNING: There is quite a bit of swearing in this story.

~ Let me know what you think. All feedback is welcome. ~


“Quintina, you didn’t have to come to work on your birthday. I told you that you could take off since you did such a good presentation at the conference in Atlanta,” Craig said walking into Quintina’s office with a bouquet of roses and a bag with Happy Birthday printed on it.

“I just wanted to look over these reports before I turned them in. I’ll be leaving after lunch.” Quintina’s attention was focused on the computer so she didn’t see what Craig was carrying until she looked up. “What’s that you got there?”

“Oh, the guy just dropped this off so I decided that I would bring it in for you. Cortez is so romantic, I wanna grow up and be just like him,” Craig said wiping away imaginary tears.

“Thanks Craig, with your silly self.”

“No problem Mrs. Robinson,” he said as he walked out of her office and closed the door behind him.

Quintina played it cool until her boss walked out then she pulled the light blue bag with white letters on it to her and pulled out the white and blue tissue paper. Cortez must have gotten somebody to help him with this because he’s never took the time to find tissue to match the gift bag, she thought. When she had finally gotten all of the tissue unraveled, she found a video tape. I wonder what’s on it. Dalana did say that she told Cortez that I wanted him to learn how to strip for me; maybe that’s what it is.

When Quintina got home she ran straight to her bedroom so she could look at her present. She put the tape in the VCR and walked over to the nightstand and pushed play on the remote. At first she just saw Cortez laying on the bed smoking. That ain’t no cigarette, that’s a blunt, I’m gonna kick his ass. Then she saw a dark skinned woman get in the bed with him. What the fuck? They began kissing and touching each other. He turned the blunt around and put the lit end in his mouth and put his mouth to her nose and blew the smoke in. I can’t believe this shit. I need a drink.

Quintina paused the foolery and went downstairs to the kitchen and pulled Cortez’s bottle of vodka out of the freezer. She got a Sprite out of the refrigerator and poured some of it into a plastic blue cup. She had intended on making her drink half liquor half soda but she decided to grab another cup and fill it to the rim with vodka. She took a swallow of her drink. It burned going down but it wasn’t nowhere near as uncomfortable as it would have been under normal circumstances. She was already on fire.

When Quintina got back up to her room and restarted the tape, the first thing she saw was the woman get up and go over to her dresser and pick up the bottle of Motion Lotion that Quintina and Cortez used quite frequently. Quintina finally got a good look at the skeezer and realized that it was none other than, Tamesha. That bitch! Tamesha got back into bed with Cortez and opened the bottle pouring some of the strawberry flavored lotion on her hand and rubbing it on his penis. Then Tamesha lowered her head and filled her mouth. I can’t believe they’re doing this in my house, in my bed. I want to kill them so bad, but neither one of them are worth going to jail over.

Quintina had finished her drink when she noticed that there was music playing in the background on the tape. Then, as if right on cue, Tamesha pulled away from Cortez’s groin and walked over to the radio. She turned up the volume a few notches, looked at the camera, then sauntered over and turned her ass to the camera. No that bitch didn’t just jiggle her flabby ass butt cheeks in my face. She went over and climbed on top of Cortez, facing the camera so Quintina could see the expression on her face. …Still in love with… Quintina threw her cup toward the TV, barely missing the screen.

“Our fucking wedding song! Aw, it’s on now,” Quintina yelled out loud. She reached under the bed and pulled out the shoe box that she kept her loaded .45 millimeter in and put it on the bed so she would remember to take it with her. But first she had to change into her beat down clothes.

Relationship Stance: Traditional vs Modern

I guess my view of how a relationship should be is in between traditional and modern. I mean, every guy I date knows how to cook so we take turns doing that. As far as working and paying bills, I think we should do that together as well. I’ve never had the desire to be a housewife, but I would have liked to stay at home with my son his first two years but I wasn’t in a position to do so because I’m a single mother. I had a career before my son was born so I couldn’t just stop working, I didn’t have that big of a support team.


My original plan was to be married before I had a child but that didn’t transpire, so I’m making the best of it. Now I have one guy who seriously wants to marry me but he has no job and he lives with his mom. He’s never lived on his own, well let me clarify that. He’s had roommates, live-in girlfriends, a brother and cousins that he’s shared a place with. There was never a time when he was the only one responsible for taking care of all the bills. I have a problem with that. I’ve worked continuously since my last two months in high school (17 years ago) and I have lived on my own for more than half of that time. Yeah, it is hard out here for a sister but I do what I gotta do.

Over the years, I’ve found myself in relationships with guys that didn’t have a job when I met them but I got with them anyway thinking that maybe I could help them get on their feet. I learned the hard way that some guys really don’t want to work. They rather stay at home and keep the house clean and cook while the woman goes to work. This is where my traditional views come in. I do not consider a man the head of my household if he cannot pay the house note. Some women have a problem with allowing the man to make most of the decisions for the household, but I don’t if I believe that he will do what is best for the family. I mean, if we have been together for a while and the guy loses his job, I won’t kick him out because he has shown me that he wants to pull his weight. Of course, he’s gonna have to go do something to bring in some money: cut grass, wash cars work at McDonalds—until he finds something better.

I talked to a lady on Twitter a few days ago and she said she shared my views with a couple of guys and they said they couldn’t be with a woman that couldn’t hold it down. Now that made me mad because either she or they didn’t read all of my tweets or those guys are just bums. I go to work every day and I work too hard and put up with too much mess at work to come home and look up in the face of some guy that can’t even pay the damn phone or cable bills. That makes me hot all over. If the fact that I won’t take care of a man the reason why I’m single, I’ll be single for life. I’m not teaching my son that he’s supposed to stay at home while his wife goes to work every day. They should be working together to have something.

Despite my traditional views, I don’t even think it’s a good idea for a woman not to have some kind of job. She needs to be selling Avon, doing hair or babysitting to bring some money in. My dad always told me that an idle mind is the devil’s workshop. This means, if a person doesn’t have anything constructive to do, they will be thinking of all kinds of devilment to do.

These are my opinions but everyone is entitled to their own. Please share your views with me.

Once Was Blind ~ Part 2

“This is Roshelle’s first night out and you know she wants to spend some time with me,” Darnell said. He had called me at work so I couldn’t curse him out like I wanted to.

“Do you want to come over and hang out with us?” he asked.

I declined. I knew she wanted to have sex with him and I wasn’t about to sit there and watch them, and I definitely wasn’t going to participate in any freaky stuff.

My dad helped us move that next day. Once we got most of the furniture into the house, we all just sat around trying to catch our breath. I went in what was to be Darnell’s room, to think about what I had gotten myself into when Daddy walked in.

“Hey, Baby?” he asked.

“What’s up?”

“You know you can always come home when you want to, don’t you?”

“Yeah, everything’s all right though.” I wasn’t’ ready to let my dad know that I had royally screwed up, but I think he could read my expression anyway.

“Well, you have a key, so you can come get some air whenever you need to,” he said as he hugged me.

Roshelle spent the night every Monday and Tuesday. Darnell would ask me to help her dry him off when he got out of the shower. I always refused. I already had to deal with the fact that my man was sleeping with another woman, in the very next room; there was no way I was going to act like I was happy about it. I remember a couple of conversations Darnell and I had about his dream of marrying an older woman who was an ex-hooker. So, whenever I looked at Roshelle with spandex clung to her heavy-set body, I wondered why I was even there. I often took Darnell outside to talk about some of the things that made me uncomfortable. Like the love letters she left around the house. Especially one that went into graphic detail about how much she enjoyed performing oral sex on him (I guess that’s why she didn’t bother to wear her false teeth that much).

“Like it, like it, or dislike it. You can roll whenever you get ready,” he would say in response to my complaints. It was as if he didn’t even care if I was happy or not. It didn’t matter that he was only working part-time for a guy who threatened to fire him every week, when I’d had two steady jobs for several years and I paid the majority of the bills. It didn’t matter that his family and friends loved me, but couldn’t stand Roshelle. It didn’t matter that I had stuck by him for his last three years in prison, and all she could do was write him letters for a year and a half. None of that mattered. He felt that he had tried to make other people happy for most of his life. I realized that I had been doing the same thing myself and I was sick of it. So one night, when he had returned from Roshelle’s house, I was in my room packing. When he walked into my bedroom, I snatched my car keys from him and put them in my pocket.

“Don’t you ever snatch anything from me,” he growled. He raised his hand as if to strike me, but I hit him first. He pushed me down on the floor. I got back up and started taking my boxes to the car.

“So, you’re just going to change horses in the middle of the race?” he asked, walking behind me.

“I don’t feel like hearing that pimp shit tonight. Leave me alone.”

“You don’t tell me what you feel and don’t feel. I tell you what you CAN feel and CANNOT feel.”

I wanted to scream but I didn’t want to wake up his children. I wanted to tell him that I had wasted my time and money on him and that I hated him for putting me through all of that nonsense. It felt like I was going to have a heart attack and a stroke trying to hold in all of my emotions, but I made it through.

I know it sounds foolish, but I still miss him sometimes, but not enough to go back. Darnell and Roshelle made me mad enough to kill, but I’m not going to give up on finding a good guy. I just have to keep my eyes open.

Don't Wear Your Welcome Out

I have mixed feelings about people having their single friends and relatives around all the time when they are in a relationship or married. I mean, if a person is a cheater they are gonna cheat but I don’t want to give them opportunity to do it right under my nose. This sounds kind of crazy and paranoid but let me explain.


This guy I know told me that he and his live-in girlfriend hardly ever have time for just them or just them and the kids. His girl always had her single sisters, cousins or girlfriends over to the house or Ty and she would go over one of the single lady’s houses. He said that at any given time, one of the ladies would bend over in front of him or make a big production of lifting up their blouses when they pull their pants up. One actually said, “He better not sit by me cause I might have to take him from you.” He finds it flattering in a way, but the subtle and outright advances also make Ty uncomfortable. He feels his girl brings him around her family & friends to rub the fact that she has a man in their faces. From what he’s told me about her, I’m sure he’s right. I kind of laughed to myself thinking of him as a trophy boyfriend. I told him if he didn’t want to be around the ladies all the time that he should tell his girl. If he didn’t have the guts to tell her, I told him to just grin and bear it, making sure he kept his hands and other body parts to himself.

I’m a hugger, and this one guy that I lived with a while ago used to bring his friends over and I would hug them when they came in and when they left. I mean I hug folks at work all the time so it wasn’t because I wanted to do them, that’s just how I greet people that I’m cool with. One day my boyfriend told me to stop hugging his friends because they might want to screw me. I looked at him like he was crazy because I didn’t know they thought of me in that way. To keep down confusion, I just said hello when they came in and went into my bedroom until they left. Of course then he said they thought I was acting anti-social so they started meeting at his brother’s place. *Shaking my head*

When I was in my late teens and early twenties, I had friends that were married. They were ladies from my church that I used to like to be around because they told me stories about their lives before they became saved, sanctified and filled with the Holy Ghost. Some of those chicks were really something else, Playboy bunnies and everything. At least that’s what they told me. Anyway, I would hang around them most of the day, but when their husbands came home I would leave. I mean I wouldn’t just rudely jump up when they guys walked into the house. I would have maybe a five or ten minute conversation with them and then I would make my exit. At that age, I had sense enough to know that hey, this guy has been gone all day and he probably missed his wife. He may have wanted to spend some time alone with her or his wife may have wanted some “special” time with him that couldn’t wait until bed time.

I’ve known a number of friends and relatives that have slept with their friends’ mates and it caused and still causes nothing but confusion. I mean, if you’re having a dinner party or some other type of get together, it’s cool to have people over to the house, whether single or married. I just don’t think that folks should just be camping out at your place like it’s a bachelor’s or bachelorette’s pad when you have a significant other.

This is just my opinion, I could be wrong. What’s your viewpoint?

Once Was Blind ~ Part 1

A year ago I was trying to adjust to Darnell being on the town instead of living in the prison he was in when I met him. You know how you look back and try to focus on what was good about a relationship? Well, I’m sorry to have to admit, I felt better when he was locked up than I did during the three months we lived together. The harder I tried to overlook the things he did, the more my patience wore thin.

My name is Yolanda Reynolds. I thought that I would be married by the time I turned thirty, but Darnell Oliver not only wanted to be my everything, but everything to every woman he met who had a little change in her pocket and who was easily persuaded. Persuaded to do what? Well, just about anything under the sun.

He wanted his women doing everything, from stealing and selling clothes and jewelry to being a part of the oldest profession. Yeah, you know what I mean, prostitution. My former fiancé was a pimp and proud of it. I admit that I tried things his way for a while, but I guess I didn’t have much street value, so he didn’t try to make me quit my day job to pursue full fledge tricking. I thanked my Heavenly Father for making me fat, and for giving me the strength to leave him before Darnell had starved me to death and forced me to be a full-time whore, whether I liked it or not.

Darnell’s mother, Darlene, and I worked together. She and I had been pretty good friends when she introduced me to her son. The first time I talked to him on the phone, Darlene and Darnell had called me on 3-way. Darnell and I exchanged addresses and promised to write each other at least once every couple of weeks.

His first letter was accompanied by a package the size of a toothpaste box. I, being the type of person who loved receiving gifts, unwrapped the light blue package. When I opened what was indeed a toothpaste box, I found a dozen fake miniature roses of assorted colors. Then I opened the letter which said that the roses were better than real ones because they would last forever. I thought that was sweet gesture. As I held the letter, it dawned on me: I had agreed to date a convicted felon on his seventh year of a ten year bid.

After about two weeks of talking on the phone and exchanging letters, I was ready to meet Darnell face to face. I knew who Darnell was soon as he walked into the visitation room. I recognized him from the pictures of him around Darlene’s house. The guy who reached to hug his mother was a lot thinner than I expected. I had figured all guys gained weight when they went to the pen from lifting weights all day. He had a big gold-tooth smile on his face when he looked at me. As Darnell wrapped his small, but muscular, arms around me, I resisted the urge to touch his shoulder length jheri curl. At that point, I hadn’t known what he had done to get himself locked up, but when I looked at the one inch, perfectly manicured nails and snakeskin cowboy boots, pimping came to mind.

During the first two years of our relationship, I visited Darnell every week, twice a week during the holidays. If my car needed servicing and I couldn’t go see him, he told his mother or brother to bring me.

To make up for the fact that he couldn’t see me on an everyday basis, he was the first man to remember my birthday every year. I sent him money and accepted his calls three times a day. He had friends that would give me money for the phone bill when I needed help. He sent me cards and little notes every Valentine’s and Christmas. He even sent me a mother’s day card and signed it, “My children’s mother to be.” I got to know his entire family including three of his children and their mother. They all made me feel like part of the family. No matter how often my friends looked at me and told me that I should have known better than to get mixed up with a convict, I didn’t listen. I didn’t even tell my dad that Darnell was locked up, because he would have been the very worst critic of all; not just because I was his daughter and he wanted the best for me, but because he had done a decade in prison himself. He knew that everybody didn’t learn from their mistakes.

There were a few times when I said to myself, “This is stupid,” and I wouldn’t go see Darnell or put money on his book. When he would call, I would instruct my roommate, Lolita, to tell him I wasn’t there. I sometimes went out with other guys to try to forget about Darnell, but then he would call on one of his friends 3-way and tell me how much he missed me and that he would be there when I got through running around with all those “nothing –ass niggahs”.

During one of those breakups, Darnell met Roshelle Price through one of the other inmates. Roshelle was ten years older than Darnell, which made her fifteen years older than I. She made her money as a hooker and a clothes booster. Why couldn’t I have left him alone then? Because she ended up going to a federal prison and I didn’t considered her empty promises as a threat to the plans Darnell and I had made together. I didn’t take me long to realize how persistent she was.

After my roommate moved out and I was struggling to pay bills on my own, Darnell convinced me to move in with his mother and we would get our own place when he got out.

Darnell was out a whole week before I knew it, and the $900 he asked me to send to him, before his release had already been blown. His second night home, he screwed some girl in my bed while I was at work. I knew this because I saw an open condom package under my pillow. I should have packed my bags then, but I just told him when we moved out of his mom’s house, that I wanted my own room. We stayed with Darlene a month before we found a house.

Government Shutdown

A number of blog ideas were flowing through my head the last couple of days—getting to know new people, backtracking with an ex… Not so unusual for me, I decided to go in a totally different direction. This doggone government shutdown is weighing heavily on my mind. I’m usually not a political minded person, but this stuff right here is getting on my nerves. I work for the part of the federal government that some people love and some hate—IRS—and as you know THE DAY is fast approaching. This year we have until April 18 to file and/or pay our taxes. As an employee, this date as well as the last day of this month, are crucial times for getting work completed.

The shutdown could also affect the issuing of refund checks (I'm glad I filed in February).



If we are shut down for a couple days to a couple of weeks, we may or may not get paid once the budget is passed. That’s what’s bothering me. I appreciate my good government job which is why I’ve been there for 14 years. As crazy as things get around there, I would love to have a few days off but being off without pay is not something I look forward to.

I was 19 years old and had no idea I’d be working for the government back in 1995 and 1996, the last time the government shut down. The politicians say that was the reason why former President Clinton was elected to a second term. I don’t know how that had anything to do with the cost of tea in China but instead of the senators fighting over whether the shutdown will benefit the Democrats or the Republicans they need to come to my service center and talk with the so-called non-essential people who don’t make hundreds of thousands of dollars a year. Then they would see that what’s important is the fact that we could miss one or more pay checks. Depending on a person’s financial situation, that could cause a major problem when it comes to paying the bills for however long we are off.

The National Treasury Employees Union (NTEU) reps passed out fliers at work giving us information on how to send our congressional representatives a message: “Just say ‘NO’ to a government shutdown and severe budget cuts.” I’m not sure if this will have any effect on Congress’s or President Obama’s decision, but I would like to think that it would.

When we didn’t get our yearly raise and were told that we probably wouldn’t get one for another two or three years, I just shrugged and said, “Oh well”. I couldn’t miss any money that I never had. But I go to work every working day other than three vacation weeks out of the year, so I expect to get my regular paycheck.

When the Democrats and the Republicans finish playing this game of chicken, we’ll see if the government will be shut down Friday evening. 

If I get furloughed, can y'all let a sister hold something?  LOL just kidding, I'm good.

An Understanding

“Where the hell is Phillip’s medicine? It wasn’t in his bag,” Jarvis yelled into the phone.

I was rocking the baby, trying to soothe him, but I knew that his earache was getting worse.

“This is the second time that you’ve forgotten it. Do I have to come to your house and pack his bag my damn self from now on?”

That’s what you get for having a baby by a young, dumb, white girl, I wanted to say but I didn’t. I was his wife and wives were supposed to be supportive, no matter nuts their husbands were. The fact that she was white really wasn’t a big deal to me because dumb came in all colors.

“Now when I sue you for full custody you’re gonna say that I’m being low down. Whatever. Gennifer, just drop his ear medicine off at mom’s house and I’ll go get it.”

I decided to take Phillip into the kitchen to find him a snack to get his mind off of his pain. Before we reached the doorway, Jarvis screamed, “I bet’ not give you my address, you think I want you to bring your drama to my doorstep?”

I sure the hell didn’t. I almost got locked up fooling around with that broad. I told her I was there for him before she got there and that I’ll be there when she was gone, so she got hot. Hell, it was the truth. Jarvis and I had known each other since ninth grade. We weren’t high school sweethearts or anything but we were good friends. If we had not lost contact a little after graduation, she would have never gotten into the picture.

When he first told me about Gennifer, I figured they would get married but she turned out to be too crazy for him to handle, so he had to cut her loose. Unfortunately, she was pregnant when he’d called it quits. I told him to try to make it work with her but he didn’t want to, saying that he should have been with me in the first place. So there I was, Mrs. Jarvis Anderson, aka Boo Boo the Fool, trying to make the best of a very awkward situation.

“Sonia, come ride with me,” Jarvis said walking into the kitchen where I stood. “I might kill that girl if I go alone.”

“Okay. I wish you wouldn’t let her upset you so much,” I said handing the baby to him. I went to the living room closet to get our jackets. I put on mine and took Phillip from Jarvis, giving him his jacket as well. Jarvis watched me as I got Phillip ready.

“I think you take better care of my son than his mama,” he said as we got into the car.

“I love this handsome little guy. I mean he looks just like you, except he’s more light skinned, has nicer hair and prettier eyes.”

“Are you trying to put the moves on my boy?” I just giggled and hugged Phillip to me. I was glad Jarvis was back to his old self again. He and I hardly ever argued, so it was unusual for me to see his bottom lip poked out.

It was too bad that our good moods didn’t last long. Gennifer’s car was still in Mrs. Phyllis’s driveway when we pulled in front of the house. It looked as if Gennifer was getting ready to back out, but I’m sure she made it her business to be there when Jarvis got there on purpose, hoping to get a few moments with him, without me around. Oops, her bad.

Jarvis blew the horn to get her attention before he got out the car. As he walked over to her car, I could tell that old girl was getting ready to chew Jarvis out. I hoped he would keep his composure.

“What do you want? And why doesn’t your wife have my baby in the child seat? Is she trying to kill him or what?” she yelled loud enough for me to have heard her in our backyard six blocks away.

When Jarvis looked back to see if I heard her, he saw me getting out of the passenger seat, so I could put Phillip in the back. As soon as I sat him down, he began to whine. “He needs his medicine,” I yelled to them.

“Bring me my baby, he just misses his mommy,” Gennifer said impatiently.

I picked Phillip up and again and walked over to Gennifer as she got out of her car. When I put the baby in her arms, he began to cry louder. By the time Mrs. Phyllis had let me in the house, the baby was on the verge of bursting a blood vessel and his face was almost as red as a tomato.

“What’s wrong with that child? He looks like he’s fighting for his life. Look how he’s clawing at that gal’s face.” I picked up the medicine bottle from the coffee table and went to stand behind Mrs. Phyllis as she stood at the door looking out. We both giggled when Gennifer thrust Phillip into Jarvis’s arms.

“What have you been doing to him?” she yelled nearly in tears herself.

“We’ve been taking care of him and loving him, the way you should be doing.”

Phillip calmed down and looked over his little shoulder at his mother. His small hand went up to his earlobe and began twisting and turning it. I took that as my cue to return outside and rescue both of my men from that woman, before things got any worse.

“Can you have kids?” Gennifer burst out, as I approached them.

“Why do you ask?” I responded, as I put the drops in the baby’s ears.

“I was just wondering if you were going to have any children of your own or if you were just going steal my son away from me.”

I would be a much better mother than you, I wanted to say, but one look at the expression on Jarvis’s face said not to even go there. I took Phillip to the car and fastened him in the car seat. I handed him his sippy cup from his bag. He looked out of the window and watched his parents as he drank his juice. It was a good thing he wasn’t old enough to feel embarrassed by his mother. I envied his innocence.

It was Phillip’s third birthday. Mrs. Phyllis and I were out in her backyard putting balloons and streamers on the wooden privacy fence. We were waiting for Gennifer to bring Phillip over so we would have him ready before his little daycare friends arrived. She was late, as usual. Jarvis had not made it either, but he had called to say he would have to work a little later.

The party was well underway, when I received a phone call that I felt would send me to my maker. The police told me that Jarvis had been dropping off one of his coworkers, when a motorcycle got into his lane, coming down the wrong side of the street. Jarvis dodged the guy but ran right into a large tree that pretty much totaled his truck. My sweetie was unconscious.

“Phyllis,” I screamed, trying to keep my composure, but failing miserably.

“What is it, baby?” I just handed her the phone.

Once I had gotten myself together and sent everyone home, Gennifer and I got into the car. We rode in silence except for her crying. Mrs. Phyllis stayed at the house with Phillip. I drove because I was the more coherent one. I felt as if I had drunk a bottle of Novocain that made my whole body numb. I wanted to smack Gennifer, and put her out of the car, for all of her melodramatics, but I controlled the urge. I did feel sorry for her because she was alone, except for Phillip. I didn’t know much about her, but I did know that her attitude had a lot to do with her relationship status.

The doctor didn’t want me to see Jarvis at first but when I got through cutting up sideways, they let me in. They wouldn’t let Gennifer come. I don’t think she would have been able to see him like that anyway. I nearly stopped breathing when I laid eye on him. One of his legs was up in a sling and his handsome brown face was covered with cuts and bruises. I dropped to my knees, and prayed until the nurse came to tell me it was time to go.

When I explained Jarvis’s condition to Gennifer she cried twice as much as she had earlier. “What are Phillip and I going to do if something happens to Jarvis? I can’t take care of him by myself. I know I give him a hard time about everything, but I still care about him.”

“Gennifer,” I said putting my hand on her shoulder. She looked up at me. “No matter what happens, and Lord knows I hope he’ll be all right, but if something does happen to Jarvis, I’ll always be there for you and Phillip.”

“But…”

“No buts. When I married Jarvis, you and that little boy became my family too. I could never turn my back on you, no matter how crazy your ass is.” That girl was speechless for the first time since I’d known her and it made me smile through the tears in my eyes. We sat there and held each other for a long time. I felt all of the animosity that had been between us melting away.

Jarvis came out of his coma after a week and a half. When Gennifer and I went to pick him up, he did a double take. “What’s the business? Y’all must have gone crazy while I was half dead.”

“No, we just came to an understanding,” I said.

“What kind of understanding?” Jarvis asked suspiciously.

“That if you died, we would move in together.”

“What the …?”

“Just kidding, baby, calm down,” I said kissing his face.

“Sonia and I called a truce. I’ll try not to give her a hard time and she will try not to kick my butt if I slip up,” Gennifer said.

“It’s about time. Does that truce extend to me too? I wanted to bust your head a couple of times myself.”

“Damn, y’all violent,” Gennifer laughed. “Yes, I promise not to get you riled up either.”

Who knew that Gennifer and I would have become friends? She had hated me since day one. I really thought she would revert back to her old ways after a while, but she didn’t. I guess she finally understood that there was no reason for us to have any animosity against each other because Phillip was the most important person in all of our lives and that it was important for us to get along, for his sake.

With her attitude under control, maybe could find her a good dude to keep her occupied.