Her unnecessary traumatic experience left me even more baffled. I scratched my eyebrow.Maybe this was some new social media challenge?“Latrice, do you need a glass of water?”
“Well … yeah.” She nodded.
In the kitchen, she downed the glass I gave her in desperation. After finishing it, she said, “Madison, I have a dress for you in my car.”
“Okay.”Got it.Washington had chosen my attire for Judge Gaston’s event.
Latrice’s beady eyes narrowed, damn near ghosting her face. “You’re going to dinner with him?”
“Though irrelevant, the answer is yes.”
“Why?” She shoved the empty glass into my hand. “You gave him up.”
After putting the glass in the dishwasher, I folded my arms. “Why are you here, Latrice?”
“I done told you! Your dress is in my trunk.” She muttered something under her breath while barging through my home to the front door that sounded likeMood Swing Madison.
I stopped biting my tongue. “Girl, why did you pull those Spider-Man moves through the window when you could’ve knocked?”
She stepped back and allowed me to unlock the front door. “I suppose you should know, Wash and I made a bet. He’d take me to lunch if Iannoyedyou by popping up at the window like he did last night.”
Oh, he told her about us? Okay, whatever.
“Next up, dinner. Then he’s mine, Madison.”
“Honey, let me stop you right there. Nothing you’ve said since your morningworkouthas annoyed me.” I chuckled. “You were red as a beet, Latrice.”
“Well, mission accomplished.” She hustled down the steps. “And I’ll enjoy every second of that lunch with your ex-husband too.”
“Aren’t you nearly his momma’s age?”Okay, low blow.“His momma … she won’t like that.”
Latrice shrugged, then shoved the key into the trunk of a late-model Civic.
Dang,Mood Swing Madisonshould’ve had a better comeback ready.
As I waited, I realized I couldn’t be angry with Latrice over the nickname, not really. It was accurate. But in the last year, I had realized a few truths, the most important being that words have power. For example, when you told someone your name, they had power over you. No matter how small. They called your name and you either responded or gave them headspace, especially if you found them annoying.
When someone gave you a nickname … that intensified their power over you. And worse, when they reduced you to adjectives. Those words could be soul-destroying.
Grief-stricken.
Guilty.
Bitter.
Mad.
Childfree.
Heard that one whispered at my son’s funeral. At first, I thought they were oblivious, confusing the messed-up idea of free childcare for life with the fact that I’d trade myown lifefor my son to have a chance. They were not.
Malicious, snotty-ass b?—
I clenched my teeth to prevent myself from transforming into the woman Latrice had labeled me, then assessed the wardrobe bag in her hand. My eyes gawked at the designer label.“Thanks,” I gushed.
Damn, she didn’t buy this thousand-dollar dress, girl.
As Latrice draped the bag over my arms, I added, “Uh, you should know, he wants to hold meagainst my willfor three dates. So, work your magic, then you can be my stand-in.”Or call the police when I’m on my first date with him.Latrice probably wouldn’t report Washington for temporary abduction.
