I AM WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR
My mother had a way of interrogating me. I swear, this woman should have worked for the FBI. She knew how to find your weak spot and go in for the kill.
Don't get me wrong, I love my mother to death, but she can truly drive me crazy with her bourgeois and elitist ways, a trait my twin sister shares with her wholeheartedly, so it is not surprising that they get along so well.
I always feel like the third wheel when I am with them, kinda like that Electric Company song, "Which one of these doesn't belong?"
My mother's favorite pastime is entertaining in her home. My favorite pastime? A mind-blowing orgasm and a good book and I am A-okay. Not my mother; she would not know what to do with herself if she didn't throw a lavish dinner party at least once a month, twice if she really wanted to go all out.
My take on it all? She loves to show off her house and all the expensive things in it. I mean, what's the point of going shopping in Italy, Paris, and Japan if you can't throw it in the faces of your envious friends and family, right?
Growing up in my house was like being on display. I think Mila and I were more like my mother's dress-up dolls than children.
She loved to dress us up and take us out. I had my first pair of Prada shoes when I was five – I didn't know what the hell Prada was, but I was sportin' 'em, like a champ. That was probably the beginning of my shoe fetish. Yes, I believe I owe all that to my mother.
It was around six o'clock when I finally got to my parents' house. I grew up on the South Side of Chicago in a neighborhood called Hyde Park, but following my high school graduation, my parents packed up and headed south, way south, to an upscale suburb called Olympia Fields.
I arrived early with my regular bottle of Dom Perignon for my mom and a box of Cuban cigars for my dad. I was always underdressed. My casual wear never compared to their "after five" attire.
My mother spotted me coming down the hallway. At 57 years old, she was a vision of beauty and was often compared to Diahann Carroll.
"Oh, hello darlin'," my mother said as she gave me an air peck on the cheek. She then continued to scan me up and down. I was wearing my favorite pair of Via Spiga shoes with a pair of straight leg jeans and a turquoise fitted top; I thought I was looking quite nice, but unfortunately my mother thought differently. "Look at you. Couldn't you at least put on one thing with sequins?"
"Does underwear count?" I asked, knowing this would rub my mom the wrong way.
"Oh, sweetheart, don't be vulgar," my mother said.
Mother was very conservative. I often wondered if she and my dad had sex anymore, not to mention if she ever found it in her heart to give him a blowjob.
"Where's Dad?" I asked as I placed the bottle and cigars on the counter, then opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of Evian.
"You know your father; he's up in his study, and who knows if he'll even show his face tonight."
My father was known as the strong, silent type. He didn't say much, but when he did, it was powerful. I often wondered what he said to get a woman like my mother to even look at him.
Then again, as a state Supreme Court justice at age 35, I guess he didn't have to say much at all to hook a woman ten years his junior in search of a financially stable life.
I wasn't in the house for five minutes when I hear, "So Mila tells me you met a man." My mother looked at me, waiting for confirmation.
I choked on my water. "Did she? What else did Mila say?"
"That he is a lawyer and is in the process of opening up his own practice."
I was sure my mother had already Googled the brother and knew more about him than I did, but of course she would never admit to being a secondhand stalker.
"Well, it looks like Mila has filled you in very well," I said.
"Yes, but when were you going to tell me?"
I shifted a little nervously, preparing to blurt out my lie. "Tonight. I was going to tell you tonight, and he was going to come, but he is swamped at work."
"I see," Mother said slowly. "How long have you been dating him?"
Although in truth it was closer to a month, that wouldn't have flown with my mom since she expected to meet any new love interest within the first week of my making his acquaintance, so out popped lie number two: "Oh, just a little over a week." At least I was consistent with the lies.
"Well, I think that's fabulous," she said. "I'm glad you found a man with a career this time."
"What does that mean?" I retorted. I knew where she was taking this and I hated her for it.
"I mean, if you're going to spend some time with someone, why not have it be a man who can financially support you? Dating men without a real job is just a waste."
"Mom, I don't need a man to support me," I said, "I have a job, a good one."
"Yes, I know, but when you have kids you can't work and raise a decent family."
"Oh, God!" I exclaimed.
"A woman should be at home with her kids. Those first four years are the most important, and you see I didn't work."
"That was your choice," I replied. "I like having a career, my own money, my own say."
That hit home for my mother. She looked away, pretending to straighten the gourmet spice rack. I just couldn't keep my foot out of my mouth.
"I'm sorry, Mom."
As usual, my mom acted like nothing had been said. She was good at brushing such situations under the rug. She and Mila definitely had that in common.
"So how is your job going, darlin'?"
I looked at my mom, and felt so sorry for her in that moment. I gave into her rules – we just didn't talk about our problems in this house.
"It's um, going great. Simone and I just landed Bianca as a new client."
My mother's face turned up as if she had just sucked on a lemon. "Sweetheart, who is Bianca?"
"She's a singer and songwriter and she's coming out with her own line of jeans, so Simone and I are working on an intense advertising campaign. It's going to be amazing."
"Well, good, good, I'm happy for you. How is Simone anyway? Did she get my invite?"
"Yes, Mother, she's coming tonight."
"Fabulous. Oh dear, look at the time; I must go change before the guests arrive.
Like I said, your father is in his study, and he would love to see you."
My mother turned to leave.
I stood in my parents' obscenely oversized kitchen, with bamboo wood cabinets, stainless steel appliances, and a host of other decorative touches copied from various interior design magazines,
and thought to myself that money is great and it's comforting and it will buy you all the pleasures of life – but unfortunately, it will never buy happiness.
***
The night was nearly over when I found an opportunity to pull Simone away from the crowd over to a secluded corner, hoping no one could hear.
"I knew it; it was those damn shoes!" Simone said as I told her every single detail about my elevator escapade with Todd.
Simone held out her hand for her twenty bucks. "So much for the 'waiting to get to know him' thing, so pay up, bitch."
I playfully slapped Simone's hand down.
"I don't know what came over me," I said.
"I do. Dick! It happens to the best of us," Simone said as she grabbed her glass of wine and raised it in a toast. "Now that's something I will definitely drink to.
I wish my husband would fuck me in an elevator. Hell, I wish he'd just fuck me period, and maybe then I would stop having thoughts of smothering his ass with a pillow while he sleeps."
"So do you think Todd will think I'm a ho?"
"Let's only hope." Simone grinned.
"Come on Simone, be serious," I pleaded.
"I am being very serious. Listen, you fucking this man only means you liked him and you weren't afraid to show it, period. More women should learn from you."
"So you think he'll call me?" I asked, still not totally convinced.
"If he doesn't, then you call him."
"I can't do that," I protested.
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to look like –"
"A ho?" Simone asked.
"Well, yeah."
"Kai, what is your fixation on looking like a ho? Hell, it's the 21st century; we are in a sexual revolution. Women are finally accepting the fact that it's okay to get our fuck on and if it's with a younger man, even better.
Men have been doing it since the beginning of time, so it's our turn, don't you think? So don't be ashamed if you wanna fuck your man on a first date in the elevator. Be ecstatic and call his ass the next day so you can have part two."
Simone downed the rest of her wine. "If some frigid bitch has something to say, well, fuck her, too." Simone slammed her wine glass down on the table. "Simone has spoken."
"You're crazy, you know that?"
"No, sweetheart. Just horny."
Simone winked and walked away. I looked to the left, then to the right, making sure I was still in the clear.
Simone was 100% right and I knew it; I just needed to hear her validation to convince myself. I couldn't get Todd out of my mind; I knew I had to see him again for part two, just like Si
