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“Oh, well, so much for a morning in bed,” I said, swiveling my feet around so that they were hanging off the side of the bed.
Today, I was supposed to be working on my new CD, “A Dangerous Way to Love,” that was due out next month. I had a few more songs to add to it, and since sleep had slipped through my fingers with Jayne’s upsetting call, I decided to head into the studio.
I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom to shower. This album was personal. It was about the ways men have handled my heart in the past. Some claimed to love me but left me feeling like a dagger was implanted right inside my chest. In truth, these men never knew how dangerously close they had come to me ending it all...for them.
While Jayne was the spirited soul of us two, she put up with the most from men. I was the type to quietly give my all, but once I felt unappreciated, I checked out of the relationship emotionally. After that, it wouldn’t be long before I was gone physically.
Take Lamont. I loved that man through and through. Instead of reciprocating that love, he put me down at every turn. I would tell him about a lively studio session, and he would say I was wasting my time on a stupid hobby when I had a good career as a teacher. He didn’t believe in me, and it showed in the way he talked to me.
One day, without warning, I moved all of my belongings out of his apartment and packed up all of his things from mine and shipped them to him. I changed the locks, my number, and refused to speak to him again. When he caught up with me at one of my performances, I had the bouncer put him out. My events were only for those who believed in me.
Lamont wasn’t the man who taught me how to let go, though. That title went to my first love, Wayne. The way Wayne used to look at me, the way we looked at each other, it was a masterpiece in itself. I really thought we had the real thing, and we did. But once we became an item, I quickly realized he had a harem of other women with whom he shared the “real thing.”
Walking away from Wayne shattered everything I thought I could feel for a man. The man I had trusted for years didn’t love me the way I thought he did. Every man that came behind him immediately got profiled as being insincere.
Jayne’s call sparked some deep thoughts about love and inspired a new song. I drove over to the studio with the lyrics playing in my head.
“Men always want it all. Even as they make the tears fall. They don’t treat us like the queens we are. We travel the world for them, near and far. But they don’t appreciate the diamond in the rough. They never do, and it’s so hard, so tough. He wants the diamond in the rough every time. But won’t do what it takes to make her shine. Never going the extra mile that it takes to be mine…”
The song flowed from my mind to the track an hour later, and I stood there humming the tune, thinking about how love has an expiration date. Parental, romantic, platonic friends, in every type of love someone either walks away or dies. There is always a fitting time to say, ‘the end.’
At this point in my life, I had mastered this art, and I hoped Jayne would find the wherewithal to come to this place with Ned, and soon.
Chapter Three
Bruiser
Family Ties
“Hey, Bruise, thanks for coming over to do this for me. Your mother’s been on me all morning,” my pops said, then kneeled down beside me with his cane still in his hand.
At the ripe age of sixty-one, my father still looked good. Lately, though, he wasn’t as fast as he used to be. I was there to change Mom’s flat tire, a chore that used to take him mere minutes. Now, he had to have assistance.
“It’s nothing, old man. How have you been doing? Looks like you’re walking a little slower than usual. Plus, I can hear your bones cracking.” I made light of his physical changes, but it was humbling to watch my father grow old.
“Ah, you see, that’s the privilege of becoming a senior citizen, young man. Keep living, and you’ll get that privilege too.” The fine lines of his forehead showed off his years as he frowned as if a pain had hit him. “Just enjoy being young, Bruise, that’s all I can tell you. Ah—”
He growled as he attempted to stand up. Once again, his back, or whatever other bones affected, started screeching as if they needed oil.
I tossed Mom’s damaged tire to the side and wiped a sheen of sweat from my forehead. Ever since my father had back surgery last year, I had been helping out with odd jobs he could no longer do. We were a tight-knit family, and I loved being there for my parents. So, this was nothing. It did my heart good to be able to help out.
However, there was a time when things were fucked. At nine years old, my whole world changed for the worse when the police snatched my father out of our home and locked him up. He had been the type of father that was there for everything. He took care of his family. He protected us.
Then, one day, he came home from work bloodied and bruised. I would never forget that day that left me curious and terrified at once. All I wanted to do was help my father.
“What happened, Rowe?” my mother screamed, and from the horrid tremble of her voice, I knew this couldn’t be good.
“Daddy, what’s wrong?” I chimed in.
“Go up to your room, Bruiser.” I got the nickname Bruiser for the strength that I always possessed. Even when I was five years old, I would rough up the younger kids in my class without even trying. My cousins, who came over to spend the night, had no chance. I sent every one of them home bruised up. My real name was the same as my father’s, Rowland Cunningham, Jr., but he started calling me Bruiser.
“But Mom,” I complained. I wanted to stay downstairs so that I could hear what happened to my father. I was afraid for him.
“Bruiser, you heard what your mother said. Go to your room,” my father’s bark was so vicious that my feet immediately started moving down the hall and up the stairs toward my bedroom. At the top of the stairs, I peeked my head through the rails and listened as he explained to my mother why he was covered in blood.
“Nelly, this little kid came into the store today. He had to be about sixteen years old. He was trying to steal a soda and some candy, and—”
He paused his speech. His next words hung in the air in suspense. I thought something else had caught his attention. But that wasn’t it. He was staring far off into the room, remembering.
