Choices

 

“Anthony, take Cairo’s car seat out Issac needs it for tomorrow.” 

That was the beginning of the end for me.  Imani was taking my godson’s car seat from the back of my truck; a car seat which had been stationary in my vehicle for nearly the entire year.  Driving him to doctor’s appointments, shopping malls, family and friend’s houses … and now that car seat is being taken out.  Symbolically, I know it’s more than Issac needing to use it, it’s because I will not be needing to use it any longer.  I sit there not saying a word, barely moving.  My wrist turns the key in the ignition off and I open the driver side door and get out.  I get out of the truck for various reasons … truthfully, for one reason only – the reason why the car seat was being removed in the first place.  As Anthony brings the car seat into the backyard he walks off into the distance and goes behind a tree to pee.  I take the car seat and walk up the backdoor steps, trying to make myself useful.  I feel it … I am not meant to be here any longer.  Maybe just for tonight.  Maybe just forever.

            Anthony tells me he has it and I shake my head ‘no’ – I don’t want to let the device that keep’s the child I’m helping to raise safe in the back of my Ford Explorer out of my grasp.  And its heavy, but I refuse.  Finally carrying it up the steps and dropping it on the floor in the kitchen.  All three of us stand there for a second, but that second is so icy and so unwelcoming I am not entirely sure why I did not leave at that moment.  Imani’s energy is passive aggressive… passively she says nothing to me, but aggressively she’s letting me exactly how she feels.  I stand around lost, uncharacteristically waiting in the living room while the two of them tuck Cairo into bed.  I hear her say, “say goodbye to Genna.”  And I say goodbye from the living room, without seeing his face and without his seeing mine.  I’m almost afraid to speak because I think my silence will make me disappear into the black couch unnoticed.  I’m waiting stupidly – welling to throw everything away for nothing.

            Anthony exits the room, closing the door behind him.  He stands there with the stance like ‘so why are you still here?’  And for the second time that night I’m wondering the same thing.  I should just leave but I am so confused.  I’ve been confused for weeks.  Not sure if I am coming or going and right now I should be going home.  He’s the so-called brother of my ex-girlfriend.  Not related, but close enough to be considered a brother.  No one bothered to tell me this until after we slept together the first time.  And I didn’t bother to change the current situation after I was told who he was either.  But all along he knew about my history with this family and he could care less, which was one of the reasons of many as to why I should stop having sex with him.  But I don’t stop, but I stopped doing a lot of things.  I stopped calling Imani as much.  I stopped seeing my godson everyday.  I stopped doing what I would normally do to take the spotlight off of what I was newly doing with someone I shouldn’t be doing anything with.

            “Imani’s going to sleep and I’m tired too, so what’s good?”  ‘What’s good’ – that was his little code.  I half-heartedly tell him to go to my car as usual per routine.  We leave the house and walk across the street.  I turn the ignition on, put the car into drive and he asks me why?  I tell him, “I’m not having sex with you right across from her window.”  And so I drive up the block some … park, but forget to turn the car off.  “You treat Anthony like a God because he has a dick.  I am sick and tired of your fucking attitude.  I can see how you push people away.”  Is the text message I receive from Imani as I wait for Anthony to unbutton his pants.  I already feel bad enough because I know I’m wrong and I won’t stop myself.  Nonetheless, I disregard her text because I think she’s being absurd.  Her accusations have no merit, nothing between her and I have changed and if I wrote anything back it would be callous and uncaring.  She’s completely wrong and she’s even more wrong to wait for me to leave with him before she tells me how she really feels.  We’ve been friends for over a year, I take care of her son, I dated her sister --- we are closer than this message would imply.  “Who is that?”  Anthony inquires with a level of entitlement that was out of place for our kind of relationship.  “A friend.”  I brush the message off as unimportant as I climb into the backseat and wait for him to do the same.

            “I’ll see you later.”  I’m entirely unimpressed with that statement Anthony makes before he closes the door and walks away from my truck.  I’ve stopped liking Anthony a long time ago.  The day of the Superbowl party when he had a female friend come visit him.  They drank alcohol I purchased and kept in the closet for safekeeping as Imani, Tisha and I went to the grocery store to buy food for the family.  Then they ate McDonald’s she brought for him in Imani’s bedroom, leaving shortly after to smoke weed in the backyard.  I stopped liking him then … but I was still having sex with him now.  Not even knowing why exactly.  As I adjust my blouse and climb back up front, slip my seatbelt on and realize I left the car running the whole time, I look back at the message -- “you treat Anthony like a God because he has a dick.  I am sick and tired of your fucking attitude.  I can see how you push people away.”  I think about that for a second. 

I too can see how I push people away.