Single Mama's Got More Drama

“I’ll think about it,” I lied. I wasn’t against the idea of going to church. Eli and I used to go together sometimes. What I didn’t want was my sister trying to hook me up between hymns.

“Don’t just think about it,” Nikki said. “Do it.”

“Later, sis.”

“’Bye.”

Once I hung up with Nikki, I called Carla and asked if she wanted to go to the zoo with the kids.

“Oooh,” she said. “That sounds like fun.”

“Meet you at your place for noon?”

“You’re on.”

2

I was just about ready to head to Carla’s place when my phone rang. Leaving Rayna in the doorway, I ran into the living room to answer the phone.

I snatched up the receiver. “Hello?”

Nothing.

“Hello?” I repeated.

A few more beats of nothing passed, and then I heard the dial tone in my ear.

I replaced the receiver, figuring someone had dialed the wrong number. No sooner was the receiver back on the hook than the phone rang again. I picked it up before it could ring a second time and said an exasperated, “Hello?”

Again, nothing.

“Stop calling me and get a life,” I said to whomever was on the other end of my line. Really…prank phone calls? Twice in a row wasn’t an accident—it was an asshole.

I was just about to pull the receiver from my ear when I heard a faint voice. A whisper of something, but so low that I couldn’t make out what the person had said.

“Who’s there?” Was it actually not a prank call and simply a bad connection?

And then I heard the voice again. Definitely a whisper, but loud enough this time that I could make out what the person had said.

Bitch.

“Who the hell is this?” I demanded. But even as I asked the question, I realized I knew who it was.

Tassie Johnson.

“If that’s you, Tassie—” I began, but the dial tone suddenly blared in my ear.

I slammed down the receiver, convinced that the person who’d called had been none other than Tassie “The Bitch” Johnson. The woman had to be close to forty, but it was clear that she got off on behaving like she was still in junior high.

Oh, I hated her. Hated her with a passion. Instead of Tassie trying to understand that Eli had lied to me about her existence, and accepting the fact that I hadn’t “stolen” him from her, the woman was out for blood. She was living in the multimillion-dollar mansion that Eli had bought while he’d played for the Atlanta Braves. I’m sure she had cars, expensive jewelry and expensive art. Along with her Atlanta home, there were no doubt second and third homes in other cities.

Tassie Johnson didn’t need my condo.

The only reason she was interested in it was because she wanted to make me miserable. Punish me for having been with the man who no longer loved her.

If her petty behavior with me was any indication, it was no wonder she had pushed Eli away. Of course, that didn’t justify Eli’s not telling me about her or the children they’d had together.

I checked the caller ID for the number of the person who had called, certain I’d see a 404 area code. But all it showed was Private Name, Private Number.

That wasn’t surprising. And it didn’t matter. I knew it was Tassie trying to get under my skin. And because I knew that, I didn’t let the phone call bother me.

I headed back to Rayna, who was waiting patiently in the foyer. At two-and-a-half, she rarely waited patiently, which only proved how excited she was to get on with our outing.

“Okay, sweetie,” I said. “Mommy’s ready.”

The phone rang again.

“For crying out loud,” I muttered. I debated not answering it, but if it was Tassie again, I wanted to give her an earful before she had the chance to hang up.

I charged into the living room. Before picking up the receiver, I checked out the caller ID. Seeing my sister’s cell phone number, my anger dissipated and was replaced by confusion. It was minutes to noon. Hadn’t she gone to church?

I put the receiver to my ear and said, “Nikki?”

“What do you mean, I’m unbearable?” my sister asked, and now my eyebrows shot up.

“What?” I said, not at all understanding what was going on.

“Are you forgetting why we have to renew our vows in the first place?” she went on.

I got it then. She obviously wasn’t talking to me. “Hello? Nikki?”

Nikki groaned in frustration. “Vanessa, will you talk some sense into Morris?”

“Nikki, what’s going on?”

Nikki didn’t answer. I heard some shuffling sounds and the faint sound of gospel music. But I also heard the sounds of traffic, making me wonder if they were in the car. If so, the music had to be coming from the radio.

“Hello?” I said.

“Hello?” Morris’s voice.

“What’s going on, Morris?”

“Your sister and I can’t agree on this whole second wedding thing.”

“It’s not a thing,” my sister said in the background. “It’s about our reaffirming of our vows because you fucked up!”

“Nice post-church talk,” I muttered. The minister must not have reminded the parishioners to abstain from cursing, I thought wryly. Morris didn’t hear me, however, because he and Nikki were now bickering back and forth. I caught snippets of, “We’ve been through this,” and “So in your mind everything’s fine?”