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“Asha doesn’t like Asha.”
“What?”
“I don’t have any feelings about your sister one way or the other. So, you’re wrong. I don’t dislike her. But if Asha liked herself, she wouldn’t be hitting the sheets with every man that crosses her path.”
“Do me a favor, Yero?”
“What?”
“Cut the dime-store psychology. You don’t know Asha at all.”
“I know that if Derrick liked black women, he could hit it within an hour of meeting her.”
That did it. I stood up and mushed him in the face with a large piece of naan. The hard Indian bread crumpled into his eyebrows and moustache.
Yero glared at me. I glared back.
“In the future, don’t ever put your hands on me. I’m serious, Saundra. Don’t ever hit me again.”
He was right. It was no way to start a marriage. “I’m sorry, baby.”
He grunted.
I reached forward to brush off the naan and he pushed my hand away. “Let’s go,” he said testily.
“But we haven’t had a meal yet,” I protested.
Yero narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know what your problem is today but if you want a husband, you’re playing the wrong game now.”
I’d had it with his attitude. “Is that a threat, Yero? Are you threatening not to marry me?”
“No . . . I’m just saying watch your hands.”
What game was he talking about? What did he mean . . . the wrong game? When was I ever playing ANY game? Did he think I was one of those pathetic women who played stupid games with stupid rules just to get an engagement ring placed on the third finger of their left hand? “Yero, I don’t care if I never get married at all—to you or anyone else.”
“Thanks a lot,” he replied bitterly.
He looked hurt and all of a sudden I wasn’t mad anymore; but he stood up and threw his napkin on the table before I could say the words that always worked magic between us.
“Saundra, I grew up watching my parents hit each other.”
If I had hugged and kissed him at that exact moment, maybe things would have turned out differently. We would have made it to the motel and the events that took place later that terrible night would not have happened. But I’d never heard this story about Yero’s parents before and that fact plus the anger in his voice just threw me off course.
So I just stood there saying nothing.
“I can’t believe that you physically attacked me, Saundra.”
“Yero, look . . .”
“You know what . . . I don’t feel in a motel mood anymore. Let’s just go.”
Yes, I was wrong to hit, but when he decided to end our evening, I got mad. “Fine, Yero!”
We didn’t speak to each other on the way home.
When he pulled up in front of my house, I jumped out of the car. As he drove off, I started to calm down. After all, the fight was my fault. Asha did behave like a hot piece and there was no point in me losing my man over her loose life. Should I call Yero right away or give him time to cool off? I’d ask Daddy. His car was in the driveway and Evelyn’s was not, so that meant he was alone.
I took the stairs two at a time.
