Newspapers / Elizabeth City State University … / Dec. 7, 1993, edition 1 / Page 6
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6 The Compass Tuesday, December 7,1993 ^ By Heather Ehaughn ^ TT am a woman of the nineties. V ^ I Women my age are more knowl- ^ edgeable thanour mothers were when they were our age. We know self- defense tactics, we carry little condom cases in our purses, and some of us can evenchangeflattires. Butevenwithallof this, it is sometimes difficult for us to face the truth. Take me, for instaiKe. I didn't want to face the truth of what was happening to my marriage. But it nagged at me until I couldn't avoid it any more. I finally realized I had to stop pretending a chilly Thursday night last April. As usual, I was rushing home from a dayofclassesatEastemState.Theevening traffic was enough to make the Pope^ curse, but I managed to get home before thecreditsrolledonmy favorite talkshow. Oprah was chastizing some brother with acurland chintzy jewelryabouthisboast- ing^bouthisrriiffl^ir£d^ties.Hedaimed he loved his wife but sometimes he just needed "somethin' extra." Of course, the well-endowed hostess and the many sis ters in the audience were outraged, and they let him know about it. Finding this amusing, I smiled as I poured salt into the boiling pot of water. ~~~~ Then the wall moimt rang. I stared at it as it kept on ringing. Fiction a little late. Or it could be Kdsha asking what I was planning to wear to the Nightlife. Maybe it was Marvette calling just to say hello, and that she'd see me later at tli« club. "Hellor A pause, then the expected dial tone. "Dammit!" I slammed down the re- ceiver and took a long breath. The voiceless caller was really wearing my patience thin. I kept telling Isley that we needed to change our number be cause this person could be another Sonof Sam. Being a tj^ical man, however, he my concerns "a woman's hyste ria," and told me to chill out. ( His attitude locked my lips because I never mentioned the calls to him again. I tried not to let the phone call distract me from my dinner preparations, but it hung in the back of my mind l&e cob webs. Bv the time Isley came through the front door of our apartment, the ham burger was done, and the noodles were firm enough for eating. Lookingathishandsomedarkfaceand thickbuild mademeappreciate my wom anhood. "Hi, baby," he said, kissing me. "Good day?" Isley shook his head. "Naw. But I'm not gone let it worry me. Baly, it's Thurs day night. Y'know what that means. That sauce smells delicious," he said, of the simmering spaghetti sauce thick with green peppers and oregano. Isley was an eighthgrade math teacher at one of the district's worst schools. East Street MiddleSchool,aff^onately called "East of Heir by faculty and students. It I mm 9 was the academic battleground for pre- teens of theFog, Cortex Park and Lc^gan Place—ugly blemishes on River City's claim that you could walk the streets at night "Want to talk about it?" "No," he said, as he peeked at the noodles. "It will just lead to a,^^ "We won't fight." "Iknowwewon'tbecausewenotgonna talk about it. Okay?" "Well, can I say somethii^?" He shook his head. . ^ "Whynotr Isley laughed as he unbuttoned his dark blue rayon shirt underneath his leather vest. "I know what you gone say, Gatina. You gone say how much you hate that I work there, that every morning yu get worried up when I leave the house." "It's true. I mean, baby, the Board was really impressed with you. Hobbinson Junior is the best school in this city, this countiy. And you turned it down? Can you imagine how good that would look on your resume?" "Stop, Gatina." ■" ^ "But Isley..." "Gatina! 'Tm just scared, Isley.' "Don't be, baly. Sometimes you just have to go with your gut. Not a day goes by when I don't think about becoming a statistic while trying to teach those kids that y equal x. Shit happens, Gatina,'and there's nothing nobody can do about it." Undressing, he walked out of the kitchen to the master bedroom to take a shower. I warned him that dirmer would get cold if he took too long. "Start without me." I wrinkled my rK»se at the idea of eatir^ Ij^^one again. Lately, I had been eating y lovingly prepared meals alone be- luse something more important called from the table—^like Centavis, his frat brother and football buddy wanting to catch a game on the bigscreen TV at Shake/s Sports Qub. Or some brothers om ttie old days of Eastern State grid iron could call up and suggest drinks and pool at Shakey's. I was determined to make this Thurs day rught our night, so I picked up the phone to call either Keisha or Marvette imtil he got out of the shower. As I put the phone to my ear, I heard a woman's voice on the line: "Sometimes Brian, I just don't know what to do with you. You know that she's going to be there. Nobody misses the Thursday night Theme." "1 know that. Sweetheart. But it's a risk that I'm willing to take." She sighed. 'T don't know, Brian. What if she sees me? Then what? Are you fi nally going to tell her?" "But she won't," he said. "With that crowd, you wouldn't be able to find your shadow. So don't worry. I'll just say— jU-j hold otv Gatina!" I nearly dropped the phone. "Yes!" ( "I smell something burning in there!" \ The garlic bread was still in the oven. With trembling hands I quietly replaced the receiver to the mount^ aadle on the wall. Feeling faint, I leaned against the refrigerator to keep from falling. "Gatirui?" "O.K!" I called out, my voice all shakey. "I got control of things." Afterafewminutes,Iheard the shower. Isley was singing "Hey Love." I slid into the chair at the table arvl picked at the plastic fruit setting, in the middle of it. I / just sat there for almost an eternity, my I mindblank,myspiritrunningonempty.| Wearing his purple and black poUa _ ‘ dotted robe ar>d a pair of black slippers, Isley sat down to a Heineken with his ti^. He didn't stop humming until he noticed my silence. "What's wrong? Upsetabout thegarlic bread?" I remained silent. 'Til still eat it. Charcoal is good for you. I've heard." i "What would you call eating burnt garlic bread, Isley? A risk, maybe?" SUSP ICI 0 N Isleystoppedtwirlingthesauce-soaked rKxldles around his fork. "Is this a trick question?" ^ j. I shook my head. "I mean you always talk about taking risks, you know. So wouldn't you con sider eating burnt garlic bread a risk?" Isley was silent. "Baby," he said in a low voice. "Eating burnt bread is not risky." "Or do you mean, not risky erwugh?" "Gatina." "Do you love rt«?" "What is with you?" "Do your "Of course." "I want to hear you say it. How hard is it? I love you. There I said it. What about you?" "That is kindergarten shit you talking, Gatina. You know tfiat I love you. If not, I wouldn't have married you." "Kindergarteners knownothing about love between a man arxl a woman, a husband arKi wife." ^ "I didn't mean it like that." "I know what you meant, Isley." ^ I left him sitting alone as I showered V*' and changed. By the time I slipped my hosed feet into platform shoes, I had con vinced myself I was being paranoid about the telephone call. My husband, the man who promised to love, honor and cherish me forever, last Valentine's Day could be planning a rendezvous with another woman. To accuse him was absolutely ludicrous, and I refused to waste arK>ther million brain cells on the idea. Didn't I just hear that man say he wouldn't have married me if he didn't LOVE ME? Besides, the TNT and Keisha and Centavis were waiting, so there was no timetodwelluponthepossibilitythatmy ■ ■
Elizabeth City State University Student Newspaper
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