“Okay Graham, everything you should need while I’m on vacation should be in this folder. I’ve created an outgoing message on both email and voicemail to contact you in the event of an emergency.”
“I still can’t believe you’re actually going on a vacation and not taking your laptop and cell phone Suzette. In the 10 years you’ve been here…it’s the first. Everyone is talking about it.”
She laughed. “I know Steve, but it’s time, and besides, Timothy has threatened to throw both into the ocean if he even so much as glimpses them. But you know me, I’ll find some way to check in.”
“I think it’s good. It’s about time you took an actual vacation. I can’t wait to meet Timothy. He sounds like a hell of a guy.”
“He is Steve. He is.”
That said, she logged off her computer and arranged the keyboard perfectly centered on the monitor and put the mouse to the left of it. She looked around one last time making sure she didn’t forget anything and put on her coat. She stopped and at her office, her diplomas, her awards, picked up her briefcase and closed the door.
As she walked down the hall her boss beckoned her in while wrapping up a phone call.
“Suzette, have a great time, relax, and please don’t get into any diving accidents. We’ll need you ready to go to help us close that big case that Neil just sent our way.”
“You’re showing your hand Jack. What if you get a call from me on the island telling you I’m not coming back unless I get a huge raise?”
“Then I will have to SERIOUSLY consider it.” He stood up and walked around his desk with his hand extended which she shook. “Have a great trip Suzette. You deserve it. And I want to meet the man who can convince you to finally take a vacation soon okay?”
“Definitely...now, I have to get going because you know I’m not packed and I have a million things to do!”
“Please, I find that hard to believe as organized as you are. But hey…don’t let me keep you. Again, have a good trip…but not TOO good okay? What time is your flight in the morning?”
“6:59 am out of National. We stop in Newark but only briefly and then it’s straight to St. Thomas from there.”
“Well get out of here! Drop us a line when you can, but no more than once a week and that’s an ORDER!”
Laughing, “Aye aye Captain! See you next month!”
On her way out Suzette was stopped no less than six times by co-workers who wanted to make sure she was going to have a good time in St. Thomas and she promised to bring everyone back some sun and sand.
The last person was the receptionist who, in her motherly way and English accent said, “Ms. Suzette, enjoy. Don’t think about work, just think about how lucky you are to have a man that can whisk you away to a beautiful island for a month. Just relax and enjoy letting your man take care of you.”
And just like that…she was out of there and in the elevator down to the parking garage and into the quiet solace of her automobile. The place she’s more herself than anywhere else with her music, with her thoughts. She shook her head and thought of Timothy. Thought about the flight at 6:59 am. Thought of her co-workers, thought of her life. And then…she let the quiet take over and the jazz snake around her as she sank into her plush heated seats.
The few errands she had to run were minimal as she really was the most extraordinarily organized person.
First stop was to her neighborhood cleaners, where she had a jovial conversation with the usual clerk. She’s a good person. Nice, friendly, warm. Second to the pharmacy, third to the grocery store and then finally, she was in her garage.
In her home she put away some of what she purchased at the grocery store and the rest she took upstairs to her bedroom to the mini fridge she’d recently purchased. She put away her dry cleaning and pulled out a bag and packed it and put it on the floor by the bedroom door. Then she activated her alarm and lay down for a few minutes with her thoughts but before you know it she was overwhelmed with all that she had to do and suddenly she became a force of energy making sure her home was dress right dress.
In her office she made sure everything made sense and that anything important was readily available to be found. Hey…you never know what could happen and she’d hoped her brother would be able to get to what he needed just in case. She thought about calling him. Her brother. But that thought passed quickly as it was always an awkward conversation no matter what the topic. He and his perfect wife and perfect kids were probably having their perfect family dinner right now. And besides, she didn’t feel like explaining to him AGAIN who Timothy was.
It was almost ten o’clock before she was satisfied with her preparations and she called once again to double check the cab coming to pick her up before dawn. With everything she could think to do done…she went to sleep and set her alarm clock for 4:30 am.
She awoke at 3:00 am with butterflies in her stomach at the thought of un-chartered waters before her. She knew she had control issues and never fared well in circumstances that were unknown to her. As she couldn’t eat or drink anything, she tidied up more and watered her plants.
At 5:00 am, her cab arrived and she went out, feeling naked. Feeling exposed in the chill early morning air. The uneasy feeling in her stomach started bubbling and when he turned to her at the drop off, he looked her in her eyes and smiled. She asked him for his card and asked if she could call him to pick her up. He said yes and scribbled his number on the back of a dirty card that was someone else’s. She tucked it in the side of her purse and gave him an extra $20 thanking him.
She checked in and sat facing the entrance to the area she was sittin. Watching, waiting and then…they called her name and led her to the back.
She took off her clothes...dressed in the gown, extended her arm for the vinyl bracelet that would identify her while she was there. Every new person she came in contact with asked her her name and what she was there for, procedures to insure no malpractice issues arose.
Suzette Cummings, Radical Mastectomy for treatment of breast cancer was her answer.
Five times now. The only five times that she’d ever spoken it aloud. Her doctor came in and went over the procedure one last time.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” he asked.
“It seems we parked in the wrong spot and he went to move the car.”
“Okay. Does he know where to go when he returns?” he asked?
“Yes. He’ll be in the family waiting area probably working like crazy on his Blackberry.”
Both her doctor and the anesthesiologist laughed at that one. Guilty as charged in man-land.
She counted backwards from ten and was gone.
________________________________________________________
1. Does Timothy exist?
2. Why would someone who obviously has such a great rapport with people be truly alone to deal with something so difficult?
3. What kind of rift would make someone not call a family member?
4. Is she morbid? Selfish?
5. Would you do this?
6. COULD you do this?
That's just it. I don't consider "US" black bourgeoisie because therein lies the problem. It's like...we're living a normal, REGULAR life but for black people...that's a HUGE DEAL because we're SUPPOSED to all be ghetto. (AS IF!)
In my world GHETTO people are the anomaly...not us and, unfortunately, the media has perpetuated it differently for so long...that even WE don't think people like us are normal. WE get it into our own heads somehow that we're better than most black people because most black people are supposed to be ghetto CUZ THAT'S ALL THEY SEE!
Seriously...how many of US live like that? Now I mean yes...it exists...BUT IT AIN'T MOST OF US! Most of us are working hard, taking care of our families, going to church (I know, I know...lol), investing our money, preparing for our retirement, being educated, making moves AND DOING THE DAMN THING ON A REGULAR BASIS.
Just about every black person I willingly associate with is JUST. LIKE. ME. And I gotta lotta friends and "friends."
It irks me when men get kudos for taking care of their kids. HELL...THAT'S WHAT THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO DO! Ain't nobody giving you a damn cookie for going to work and providing for the children you made hell. YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DO THAT! AND IF YOU'RE NOT...YOU'RE NOT A MAN! But the world has said that black men don't take care of their kids and yes...again...I know some don't...but some men of ALL races don't either. SO...if you're a black man who is...you have been brainwashed into thinking you're doing something special WHEN YOU AIN'T DOING ISH SPECIAL HELL!
Those of us who are living our lives as responsible adults don't deserve extra praise either. It's what we're supposed to do and what a whole lot of us have been doing for GENERATIONS. The ghetto people are the oddity here folks...not us. WE ARE NORMAL! The media needs to get this and yes...we ourselves need to get this too.
We've been hoodwinked...lead astray...run amok and we need to get our minds right around this now...RIGHT NOW! The longer it's considered normal for black people to be ghetto and for (what I call) NORMAL black folks to be considered SPECIAL CASES...the longer we're going to keep having the same damn problems.
And the longer the entertainment ROLE MODELS are NOT people like us and are instead people who are GHETTO...shit...we might as well just stick our heads in the sand and hide.
The Puff Daddy's of the world and his take on his "baby mama" ish? NOTE I NEVER SAID A WORD ABOUT IT. That damn "Essence" article came and went and I REFUSED to acknowledge it. Humph. Why?
THAT ISH WAS GHETTO.
All the soap in the world couldn't wash away that ghetto...but think of how many young men wanna be like Puffy. Humph. HUMPH!
The Puff Daddy's and Keisha Cole's are SELLING US OUT. Not those of us living responsibly. IT'S THEM. They have SOLD US OUT so that their ghetto ish can seem NORMAL AND THEY CAN GET RICH SELLING A DANG CD AND SOME CLOTHES! They don't give a flying fug what the overall damage they are doing to young black kids is. Why? Cuz it's making THEM and only THEM (and their industry) money. And then...they go to their mansions with their maids and send their kids off to prep school in the morning with a nanny and a driver WHILE KIDS ARE WALKING AROUND SINGING..."I shoulda cheated! I shoulda been in da club! I shoulda cheated!"
THEY HAVE SOLD US OUT! THEY ARE THE SELL OUTS! THEY ARE NOT...KEEPING IT REAL.
Lawd...I done made my pressure go up writing this one.
Okay...I ain't talking no mo. I'm shutting up now. Again. This time fo sho. Yup. Quiet. Locked the key...and threw it away. Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh.