Chapter Fifty-Nine
Fifty-Nine
So that’s the story of how we ended up in the Brooklyn Hospital emergency room two days before Labor Day.
Oh, sure, I could have given you the short version, but then you would have missed out on all the good stuff in between!
Little Eric came back from basketball camp the next day. I swear he looked as if he’d grown six inches!
We all spent Labor Day with Noah and his lover, Zhan. They look good together and seem to be very much in love. And he’s a good guy; he totally understood when Noah shared his “little problem” with him.
A month later and after some prodding, we finally got the entire version of Chevy’s involvement with Abimbola and Cassius.
She claims that she’s learned her lesson and is working on changing her selfish, senseless, money-worshipping ways.
I guess having to sit on a rubber doughnut for three weeks will do that to you.
But I’m not quite sure she’s totally sincere; why, just the other day when we were strolling through the Village I caught her ogling a Pucci scarf in the window of a high-end boutique.
She has to appear in court next week in order to clear up her warrant situation. Crystal got the attorney who works with AIW to represent her pro bono, and he feels that he can get her off with just a slap on the wrist and a year or so of probation.
In the meantime, she’s still living with Noah, but he’s barely there and, in fact, seriously thinking about selling the house and moving to England with Zhan. He’ll be missed, but that’ll give me a reason to finally get my fat ass on a plane!
Crystal is still beautiful and successful. The insurance money she received from the flood and the little she borrowed from her bank account allowed her to renovate the entire apartment, and it looks even more fabulous than before.
She gets lonely sometimes and has confided in me that she doesn’t know when or if she’ll ever be able to let someone get as close to her as Kendrick did.
I told her that her Prince Charming is out there, the two of them just haven’t found each other yet. She knows it’s true; she just likes to hear someone say it every now and then. In the meantime she’s decided to train for the New York Marathon, which brings things around to me.
The Wednesday after Labor Day I received a call from the weight czar Miriam. Right off she began ranting, raving, and belittling me, and once again I found myself sitting there like an obedient, emotionally abused child, just taking it.
I looked around and saw the place I had made into a home.
Turned and looked at my big beautiful son, who was standing at the stove frying franks.
Thought about where I had come from and where I was going and realized that this bitch didn’t fit into my life—past, present, or future.
I calmly said, “Miriam, if you call my home again, I’m going to come up to your office and put my foot so far up your ass, you’ll be able to taste the sole of my aerobic sneaker in your mouth. ”
And, with that, I hung up the phone.
Not too long after that, I saw on the news that someone had finally blown the whistle on Calorie Counters, hitting the company with a ten-million-dollar harassment lawsuit.
I was watching with glee as they brought Miriam Baxter out in handcuffs. She looked exactly the way I pictured her. Built like a man, face like a bulldog, and a military haircut. She growled at the cameraperson and head-butted the reporter who kept pushing his microphone in her face.
I’ve since joined Jenny Craig and have lost two pounds!
Little Eric and I spend a lot of time looking through college brochures. He’s excited that we’ll be attending college at the same time. He tells me how proud he is of me for making the decision to continue my education and even throws in an “I love you” every now and again.
His father is coming around more often to be with Little Eric. It’s slow going, but they’re starting to warm up to each other, and I’m glad for that.
I’d been hinting around to Crystal that I was beginning to feel guilty about sleeping with Eric and was thinking about cutting him off, so to get me to go the extra mile, she gave me a gift.
A nine-inch-long, candy-striped vibrator!
The first night I used it, I came so hard and screamed so loud, the neighbor above me banged on the floor and screamed, “Keep it down! Damn!”
After that night I named the vibrator Mandingo and knew that Eric would never get another drop of my loving again!
Anyway, it was time to stop fooling around with him. I realized that we were tempting fate each and every time we’d been together, because the last time we had sex, the condom broke. Now if that’s not a sign from God, I don’t know what is.
My period’s not due for another week, but I’m not worried. Really, I’m not . . .