Chapter 20
“Now, I know that you don’t want to, but you need to go see Rosetta.”
I pull the phone from my ear and turn it over twice before I place it back against my ear.
The weekend is here, and I sit with my back against my mattress frame where I have been since making the call to Aunt Emmy.
The idea of going through with Rosetta’s request so soon after getting off work has my stomach in knots.
“Uh, Auntie, are you really suggesting that I subject myself to more torment from that woman?”
“I am. It’s not about Rosetta. It’s all about you. For years, you have allowed her to hinder you and the way you move in life. It’s time that you get some clarity.”
As per her previous call, Rosetta sent me a message to let me know she’s in the city and wants to hook up.
That was yesterday, and I have yet to reply to the message.
I’ve been unsure if I want to waste time going to see Rosetta.
At this point, she’s a distant relative with whom I have no ties, despite her significance to me.
“I’m scared,” I whisper. A lone tear creeps down my cheek, and I let it flow.
“I know. But Bunny, it isn’t healthy for you to continue in this regard.
Based on our last conversation about Rosetta, I imagine that you shut down.
The problem is, you can’t shelter in place forever.
It’s time to come from under this bondage.
Now reach out to Rosetta. When the meeting is over, call or come over.
” Without giving me a chance to push back or reject the idea, Aunt Emmy disconnects the call.
I chew on my lip before I switch to my nail on my left index finger as my mind swirls with thoughts.
Since I know that Aunt Emmy will follow up if she doesn’t hear from or see me in a few hours, I go to the message with Rosetta.
With my mind everywhere, rejection in my belly, and weariness in my spirit, I send a text before I can second-guess myself.
Me:
What day were you wanting to hook up?
My hands tremble slightly once the message is sent, and I exit the thread.
My chest tightens when my eyes land on another unread message from Zakai.
Being in his arms the other day was the comfort I had been missing, but I was too caught up in my dilemma to accept it.
I can only pray that he doesn’t get tired of my efforts to push him away and heed my urging.
Before Zakai, no other man has been around long enough to deal with my present state.
In fact, I have done a great job of not falling in love or giving in to the idea of it.
So, it’s a little out of the norm for a man to show me that he isn’t interested in being temporary in my life.
My body freezes when a chime sounds from my phone.
R. Winston:
Today. I have things to do tomorrow and Sunday, so I need to get this out of the way. Meet me in thirty minutes at that pasta place over on Cruiser Drive.
In typical Rosetta fashion, the original two weeks she wanted me to spend time with her were condensed into this last-minute dinner. I no longer feel any type of way about it when she does it. But the inconvenience of being her inconvenient placeholder often exhausts me.
“See, Auntie, this is why I don’t do this. This woman is so demanding and inconsiderate. How can she not consider what I might be going through? Ugh,” I say as I stare at the selfish words on my phone.
Even through text, I can sense the hostile and nasty way Rosetta speaks, despite our exchange being in written form.
It always amazes me how a woman can be a trash ass individual but have the most audacity.
Then, to make demands as if she has the right to do so.
Rosetta makes my ass itch, and I often want to forget that Aunt Emmy raised me to be respectful.
With my marching orders given, I stand and gather my belongings so I can leave the house.
I have no time to change out of the business attire I wore to work, so I slip back into my heels and leave my bedroom.
My shoulders sag, my back is tight, and my stomach feels vacant, but I walk out of my front door a couple of seconds later.
God, please let this go smoother than our texts or phone calls. I’m tired, and it would be against your will if I slap this woman tonight.
Now, how are you praying for mercy while also issuing a subtle threat? God won’t honor that mess, Caziya.
My conscience chastises me before my thoughts can settle into my psyche.
But the truth is, Rosetta drains the sensible out of me on most days.
Now that I have to see her in a public and in-person situation, I have no clue how this will go.
God knows my heart and prayerfully will forgive me as I navigate this experience.
Luckily or unluckily for me, Olive Garden, or the pasta place as Rosetta calls it, isn’t far from me, and I arrive earlier than requested.
However, I need something to get me through, so I go in, put my name down, and then head to the bar for a quick drink.
While Aunt Emmy likes to pray away all my troubles, I often agree with her methods.
But I need another agent to help me find the right path from the beginning.
“Hello. What can I get for you?” the bartender asks the second I walk up to the bar. I plaster on a smile as I make a request of my own.
“Can you recommend something? I want something that’ll get me to a feel-good place in a short time.”
“Sure can. How about I make you a Long Island limoncello? It’s similar to a Long Island, but our version of it.”
I nod my agreement, and the bartender smiles before going about creating the drink selection as I stare blankly at the TV screen just above the bar.
While I dread seeing Rosetta after so many years, there’s a part of me curious about how she looks.
I also wonder about how she’ll handle me in person.
While she has never accepted me as her daughter, I can’t help but wonder if that will change when she sees me.
It’s different when my only communication with someone is phone calls or texts.
Will Rosetta treat me like a friend in person, or will she exhibit some maternal qualities?
Between the drink and my mind that’s been on a loop since I made the decision to give in to this meeting, time catches me quickly.
My phone chimes with a new message as soon as I finish my drink.
It has effectively given me a slight buzz, and I believe I can now handle whatever comes my way during dinner.
R. Winston:
Where are you? I thought I told you to get here in thirty minutes.
Well, so much for this going without incident or a shift in my resolve about the type of woman Rosetta will be while we break bread.
I swallow the remaining contents of my drink, grab my purse, and leave the bar as I head toward the front entrance.
Unfortunately for me, I have no idea what Rosetta looks like, so I have no way of knowing who I will be searching for.
I walk up to the hostess desk, ready to ask if someone named Winston has also requested a table for two.
“Lord, I should have known Emmy would have rubbed off on you. Is this how you come to meet me for dinner, Arleta?” That voice halts my steps, and I nearly trip over my feet when I turn to see an older version of myself standing directly behind me.
Damn, her hateful ass has got the nerve to be pretty. Why couldn’t she look like a frog tap-danced on her face, leaving permanent warts in its wake?
“Are you just gonna stand there blinking like a fool? Hug me, child,” Rosetta snarls.
So much for my liquor courage. This bitch.
I swallow over the lump in my throat and remove the space between Rosetta and me to embrace her.
The pitty-pat taps on my back cause a chill to enter my bloodstream from the coldness of the hug Rosetta gives me.
I choke back the sob that I would ordinarily release at the reminder of Rosetta’s inability to show love toward me.
Before I can do so, Rosetta steps back, and her gaze shifts to an older black man.
“Mi amour, this is Arleta. She and I are related. Arleta, this is the man who is my life and the one my heart beats for. Go on and greet him like Emmy taught you some manners.”
I take a step back like Rosetta slapped the taste out of my mouth, and all I can do is wave at whoever this man is. The description Rosetta gives about who he is to her, in comparison to mine, staggers and wounds me.
“Rosetta, my pet, you didn’t give her my name,” the man tells Rosetta, and I fight my gag reflex when her eyes flash with stars.”
“I did. You’re my mi amour,” Rosetta gushes.
I’m gonna be sick.
“My name is Stanford. How do you do, Ms. Arleta? It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. You’re a pretty little thing,” he says with his eyes on me, and my stomach clenches as my appetite runs for the hills.
This roller coaster is going to be more emotional than the R&B classic suggests.
I have to agree with the statement that echoes in my mind because although my relationship with Rosetta isn’t romantic, it is a toxic love that often traps me in the ups and downs we’ve had over the years.
The hostess calls out my last name, and I follow another server toward our designated table as my mind spins.
“So what’s new with you, Arleta dear? Are you dating? Mi amour and I have been together for, I don’t know, maybe three months or so, but things have been so refreshing,” Rosetta asks after countless seconds pass once we’re at our table.
“I-I uh.” I can’t land on a single thought to answer Rosetta’s inquiry, but it doesn’t seem to bother her as she continues talking about herself.
“No worries, child. It’s not important anyway.
I have been enjoying showing mi amour this little city and where I used to go to find men.
Thank goodness I had the sense to discard those fools like old garbage.
” Rosetta laughs, and the sound twists my stomach as a revelation hits me like a ton of bricks.
Oh my God! Is this what I’ve been doing to the men in my past? Or what I’m currently doing to Zakai? No. No. Please, God. I want love. Jesus! I choose love. I can’t—I can’t become Rosetta.
“Earth to Arleta. It’s rude to sit here like a bump on a log,” Rosetta says, and a wave of nausea hits me as I grip my stomach.
“I uh—I’m sorry, I’m not feeling well. C-can we re-mm-reschedule for another day?” My words are choppy as my stomach clenches and aches with a vengeance.
“Oh no, child. I only have this point in time. But go on because I don’t want me and my man catching whatever you have.” Rosetta frowns while her hand shoos me like a fly.
“Right. Uh, have the day you deserve, Rosetta,” I say and practically trip over my feet to exit the table and make quick work of getting out of dodge.
I almost rip my driver’s door off the hinge when I reach my car and climb inside.
I exit the spot in shambles as a steady stream of water flows down my cheeks.
My destination is straightforward and routine as I steer my car toward the place I always rely on to pull me out of whatever fog I find myself in.
The little bit of liquor I had did nothing to consume or buffer the many darts that hit me in a short time.
I need Aunt Emmy because I don’t want to be like Rosetta.
Fifteen minutes later, I walk into Aunt Emmy’s house and nearly fall into her lap with tears on a steady flow down my face. Today, she doesn’t have to pry anything out of me as my words flow like a waterfall.
“I just left Rosetta, and I need you to pray because I can’t be like her, Aunt Emmy. Please pray. Please,” I sob.
“Shh, Bunny. I have been praying since I knew the meeting was going to happen. Now, tell me what happened.”
For the next minute, I run down what took place with Rosetta and every emotion I currently feel. Once again, Rosetta has drained me, but I know that after this reset with Aunt Emmy, things can only get better.