Toya is on her seventh home and she’s only 16 years old. Next stop, a residential treatment facility. Toya has no clue what a residential treatment facility is, but she knows she wants know parts of one. So she has to clean up her act. No more cussing, no more drinking, no more fighting and no more internet videos—the kind that got her kicked out of her last two foster homes. She’s just been moved to a new foster home—possibly her last foster home—and all is well. A new home in a new town, but her old ways seem to follow her wherever she goes. Not only that, but one of her fiercest demons has just stalked out of the darkness of her past and threatens to drag her down once again. In order to survive, Toya must do something she hasn’t dared to do in a very long time…trust. Boy Toy is the story of one girl’s journey from the lost to the loved.
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Click here for Discussion Questions |
Many thanks to Lisa W. Tetting - author of The Mistreatment of Zora Langston, who interviewed me about Boy Toy in her blog at lisawtetting.com. Want to read it? Click here.
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sample chapterAt this point in the story, Toya has been working hard to take advantage of her clean slate. She's in new school where no one knows about her past. Until her arch nemesis, Jenelle, humiliates her by exposing to the whole class, the internet video that seemed to haunt Toya everywhere she went. Score one for Jenelle. Now it's payback time. Back in the day, when the Old Toya sought revenge, she took no prisoners. But this isn't the Old Toya anymore...
Chapter 9 You take my rep and I’ll take your man. That was my new motto. I had made my choice. The “clean slate” experiment was officially over. The whole thing was just too hard. It was much easier being the old Toya. I was good at being low down, devious and scandalous. And I was an expert at paybacks. Which is why as soon as my suspension was over, I was busy launching my attack on Jenelle. The cost of destroying my clean slate? One boyfriend. Luckily, Jenelle’s suspension was twice as long as mine, so I had three more days to lay the groundwork on Devon. Not that I needed the extra time. A few minutes of flirting, telling Devon how his T-shirt really showed off the muscles in his back, and I had his phone number. We spoke on the phone that night and every night after. Apparently Devon’s mom didn’t have a problem with girls calling her son after eleven o’clock at night. Then one night, when we had been on the phone for three hours, Jenelle was on the other line. Devon did not click over. I knew I had him hooked. He was all mine. And tonight, he was all mine in my bedroom. Miss Angie and Chelsea were off at Chelsea’s dance recital. I was invited to go, but I told Miss Angie I had some homework to catch up on due to my suspension. It wasn’t a complete lie. I did have work to catch up on, but I wouldn’t dare ask Devon for help. The boy must have taken too many hits to the head while playing football, because he was clueless. The only things he knew anything about was football, girls and TV. So, we sat on the floor in my room watching TV. The Simpsons. Devon loved cartoons–but apparently he loved kissing on me more. He barely even glanced at the TV, too busy kissing and nibbling my neck, his wider receiver-sized hands pawing at me like I was a football. And I was into it. At least, I tried to be into it. But something was missing. Devon was kissable. His lips were full, soft like pillows. Just like the last boy–and the one before that, and the one before that. The same old same old. There was nothing special here. And strangely, I was feeling a strong desire for something special. I kissed Devon harder, trying to lose myself in the moment. This wasn’t about special. It wasn’t about love. It was about revenge. Who cared if my heart wasn’t in it? I did, apparently. As hard as I tried to push out Miss Angie’s words, they kept creeping back into my head. All that mumbo jumbo about planting seeds and watering flowers had really gotten to me. I didn’t think it had. I tried to blow it off. But every time I looked at my window sill and saw my little African violet in a cup, struggling to live, it moved me. I found myself rooting for the poor thing–almost as if I was rooting for myself. I did want that pretty garden. I did want the good seeds to take root and flourish in my life, but I wasn’t sure I could really have it. Was I destined to be every man’s amusement park ride? The girl every boy wanted to screw and no one wanted to take out to dinner and a movie? Would I never be a “decent girl?” “I want you so bad, girl. Man! I can’t wait to…” Huge drops of sweat were dripping off of Devon’s forehead. He had slipped off his T-shirt and was now working on the buttons of my shirt. I barely noticed all of his exertions. The wheels of my mind were churning faster than Devon’s fingers could unbutton. I never really had a boyfriend before, just sex buddies. Devon would be another buddy. A clean slate? Who was I fooling? My slate was so dirty, even when I tried to clean it, it got splashed with something else. I did enjoy that time, though –those few days when my slate was clean. I had felt good about myself—nervous at first, but I was starting to get my confidence back. Another thing I noticed was the quality of people I had started to draw to me. Positive people. Kids who were about something: Terry and Emily, of course. But then there was Shay and Sharita from the church –who read to kids at the homeless shelter once a week, because they wanted to, not because some judge ordered them to. Dominic, from my gym class who was involved in every club, group, organization and society the school had to offer. He was always inviting me to meetings, but I never got that vibe that he was doing so because he was trying to get in my pants. He said I had excellent leadership skills. Me? Excellent? Leader? Skills? Of course, it wasn’t all positive. Jenelle was definitely the rotten apple in the bunch–a dirty, stinking, rotten apple, with fuzzy mold growing all over her. I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when I popped up at the school with Devon’s arms around me. Sweet satisfaction. Sweet revenge! But would it really be sweet? Sure sleeping with Devon would hurt Jenelle, but so what? This was strange. These thoughts running through my mind. For the first time I was really starting to think about the “C” word. Consequences. Jenelle may be hurt, but she wouldn’t be surprised. If I was being honest with myself, it would be the kind of thing everyone expected a girl like me to do—use my body to get revenge. What would Terry think of me if he found out–when he found out? I would never, ever, ever, ever have a shot at being his girlfriend. If I had a shot at all, that would destroy it all together. And then what about Chelsea? The girl was annoying, but she had been growing on me. What would I tell her? Girl, you gotta use what you got to get what you want. No way. I didn’t want to corrupt that sweet, innocent child. Miss Angie would be disappointed, of course. It saddened me to think about the look on Miss Angie’s face when she picked me up at the school that day. I didn’t want to disappoint her again–especially after all the personal stuff she had just shared with me. I noticed Devon had taken a break from groping me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him dig in the pocket of his jeans and pull out a condom. He snickered, “Always come prepared. That’s what they told me in the boy scouts.” The look of excitement in his eyes. Like a kid waiting in line to get on the roller coaster. I had invited him over to watch TV, but in Devon’s mind I had invited him over for a freak-fest. That’s what he expected from me and I was about to give him no less. What would he say if I said no? If I told him the roller coaster ride would be closed until further notice. He’d be pissed, but who cared? I still might have a shot with Terry. Miss Angie wouldn’t be disappointed. And there would be one less stain on my slate. Then what about Jenelle? No big payback? No sweet revenge. I remembered my grandmother once saying, “Sometimes the best revenge is living well.” Pay Jenelle back by not stooping to her level but by rising above it? It sounded like something I might have heard in Sunday school, but maybe there was some truth to it. Jenelle had pulled that stunt to drag me down, to make me look bad in front of my classmates. What if I came back to school better than ever? Smiled more, laughed louder, showed off some of those “excellent leadership skills” by joining a couple of Dominic’s clubs? Show Jenelle, and everybody else, that no matter what they threw my way, I was coming back bigger, bolder, better than ever! Ah…Sweet Revenge! “What the…” Devon must have been having trouble with my bra, because he stared at the lacey, blue contraption with a puzzled look on his face. The same look he got when the Mr. Chamberlain asked him to work out a geometry problem on the board. Finally, he said: “Can you help me out here?...Toya?” I finally looked at him, really looked at him, as if meeting him for the first time. That smooth, dark chocolate skin. His muscle bound chest, rising and falling with anticipation. I felt his enormous hand on my bra and I saw the look in his eyes–that Yay! I’m-about-to-get-me-some look. I saw his jaw drop when I finally said the words, “I can’t do this.” “I know, man, this bra is crazy.” “No.” I knocked his hand away and started re-buttoning my shirt. “I’m not talking about the bra, I’m talking about this. Having sex with you.” He looked stunned. “What? Why? Is it my breath?” “No, it’s not your--” “I’ve got gum.” “I didn’t say it was--” “It’s okay. Jenelle makes me keep gum with me all the time.” Devon started rummaging through his pockets for the gum, until I grabbed his arm. “Devon, stop. Your breath is fine. It’s me.” “You? Your breath smells good.” “Will you stop talking about bad breath!” I snapped. “I’m trying to tell you something.” “What?” Devon slipped into smooth operator mode and slid his arm around me. “What is it, baby?” “It’s me. I can’t do it with you Devon. It’s wrong.” “Wrong?” “Yeah. I mean, you and I both know the only reason I’d be doing it is to get back at Jenelle.” Devon tipped his head back and let out a loud cackle. “Is that what this is about? It’s okay, baby. You can use me. I don’t mind.” He leaned in to kiss my ear. I pulled away. “No, it’s not fair to you. Or to me. I don’t need any more drama in my life.” “There don’t have to be no drama, girl. Jenelle don’t have to know what we do.” I buried my head in my hands. I could tell this was going nowhere. Saying no to Devon was like giving him a shot of Viagra. Now he was massaging my shoulders. And he smelled so good. Calvin Klein's Eternity for Men. I could feel myself weakening. If I was ever going to take a stand, I had to do it now. It was time for drastic measures. I held Devon’s hands in mine and looked deeply into his eyes. |
“I love you, Devon,” I said, and could immediately feel Devon’s hands turn ice cold. It was working already. In addition to the tips, another thing I picked up while working in Miss Angie’s salon was relationship advice. The best way to cool off a man who wants to have sex is to talk about love or religion. If that didn’t work, cry. I hadn’t been listening enough in church to talk about religion, so I thought I’d give love a try. “I didn’t plan for this to happen, Devon,” I said. “But I really do love you. I want us to spend every moment together.” “Toya I-I…I mean, J-Jenelle and--” Devon stumbled over his words, barely remembering how to speak. “I know. I know. You’re with her. It’s my loss.” I tried to say with a straight face. “But can’t you see? How can I make love to you then watch you walking down the hallway with her, holding hands and stuff, on Monday morning? It would break my heart.” Devon let out a deep sigh, speechless. Then he jumped up so quickly, I thought he was going to bolt for the door. He paced the floor, scratching his head—as if it would bring the right words to surface in his mind. “Listen, I--” “You don’t have to say it. I know you don’t feel the same way.” I rested my head in my knees so he couldn’t see me laughing.” “Aw, don’t cry.” “No, I’m okay. I’ll be okay.” My voice was muffled by my knees. I lifted my head and whimpered, “You’d better go now.” Devon’s head hung low as he turned and slowly walked to the door. He put his hand on the door knob and my heart leapt. It had worked. It had actually worked. Then he stopped. Devon rested his head against the door then sighed. “I can’t.” “You can’t what?” “I can’t leave you like this.” Uh oh. I quickly straightened up. “No, no. You go on. I’m fine. See, I’m better already.” I flashed him a big cheesy grin. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Toya. I can see right through you.” “No, really…I’m not pretending.” Devon walked back to my side, with a look of determination. “Truth is…I love you too, Toya.” “You what?” “I love you, girl.” Now it was my turn to forget how to speak. I sputtered. “Huh?…B-but, what…what about J-Jenelle.” “She’s gonna kill me. She’s gonna kill us both. But I don’t care. You’re so much nicer than she is. And when we talk on the phone, we talk about real stuff–football and X-box. Jenelle only wants to talk about shopping.” Devon rushed over and took my hand in his. “And you never yell at me or call me names like Jenelle. Last week when I forgot it was our eleven month anniversary, she called me a big, dumb Jock-a-saurus” “That’s a pet name! She only does that to show you that she loves you.” I couldn’t believe I was actually defending my arch enemy. “Nah. That’s not love. What we have…it’s true love.” This was not going well. I almost wanted to have sex with him just to get him to shut up. I didn’t want to mess with the boy’s head. Maybe the truth would come in handy here. “Listen, Devon…I’m not really--” A thud interrupted me. “What was that?” Me and Devon whispered in unison. Next came the unmistakable jangle of Miss Angie’s keys. “My foster mom. She’s home,” I hissed. “I thought you said she wouldn’t be home--” “I know what I said. I guess she changed her mind.” The thump, thump, thump, of Chelsea’s lead feet on the stairs followed. “You gotta get out of here.” “I can hide in the closet.” “Uh-uh…with my luck, she’ll come up here and head right for the closet looking for her tennis racket or something.” I gripped Devon’s arm and dragged him to the window. “Trust me you do not want to mess with Miss Angie. You think Jenelle is scary?” “Okay, okay…” Devon’s body was dangling half out the window, half in. “Hey. Aren’t you going to kiss me goodnight?” Suddenly Chelsea burst through the door, saying, “Don’t laugh, I got stage fright. Threw up before I--” Panicked, I shoved Devon out the window with one hard push. A yell, tree branches crackled, then a clunk. I peeked out the window just in time to see Devon climbing back to his feet. “Oooh!” Chelsea howled like a siren. “You had a--” “Shhhh!” I slapped my hand over Chelsea’s mouth, just as Miss Angie barged in the room. “What in the world is going on up here?” “Nothing,” we replied, innocently. Miss Angie stood there with her hands on her hips and I realized how it must look: Me standing there holding Chelsea in a headlock, my hand clamped over her mouth. I slowly released the girl. “Um…Chelsea was about to throw up and I was helping her hold it in.” Chelsea nodded her head vigorously. “Uh huh. But, I think I’m okay now.” She breathed out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Whew! Thanks Toya. That was a close one.” Miss Angie folded her arms and said, “I thought I heard someone yell.” “It was a cat,” we answered, a little too quickly. It freaked me out, a little, that me and Chelsea were so different, but in the heat of the moment came up with the same lie. Chelsea added, “Uh…there was a cat outside, howling. I think it was in heat.” Miss Angie stared at the two of us as if reading our minds. We looked guilty. Though, of what, she couldn’t even imagine. Chelsea had only been in the house for thirty seconds. Not nearly enough time to get into trouble. Finally, Miss Angie gave up on the mind reading. “Well, whatever… Chelsea, I put a glass of ginger ale on your night stand. Drink it and then go take your shower.” “Yes Mommy,” Chelsea said then disappeared. Miss Angie turned her eyes to me. “You get your homework done?” “Most of it. How was the recital?” “Fine. What we could see of it. Chelsea got sick just before she was about to walk on stage.” “That’s a shame.” “Well, last year she threw up in the car on the way to the recital. So, at least we’re making progress.” Miss Angie walked over to the window and peeked outside. Nothing but trees and houses. “I’m going to check on Chelsea. Goodnight, Toya.” “Goodnight.” As soon as Miss Angie left, I flopped on the bed and exhaled. That was a close one. It was a good thing Devon played football. Any other boy falling out of that window would have still been laying there with a broken leg, just waiting for Miss Angie to come down and break his neck too. My cell phone chirped and I nearly leaped off of her bed, startled. Clutching my chest with one hand, I picked up the phone with the other. A text message. Devon: “I luv u, gurl!” 
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Book Club Questions
Want to start a Boy Toy Book Club? Here are some questions to get you started.
1. When we first meet Toya, she has just arrived at her seventh foster home in five years. What kinds of adjustments has she had to make in her life in having to move from house to house to house over those five years? How has it affected her?
2. We know that Toya was attracted to Terry from the moment she first laid eyes on him. Yet when she had to chance to hang out with him for the first time and braid his hair, she ended “stabbing him in the head with a comb?” What did Terry do to upset Toya that day? In spite of that rough beginning, why do you think Toya and Terry became friends so quickly?
3. When Toya called Terry for the first time, she encountered his mother—who was not pleased that Toya had called her son so late at night. Before hanging up on Toya, she told Toya “…you are not a decent girl.” Those words seemed to haunt Toya throughout the book. Why do you think those words stuck with Toya for so long, even though others had said far worse things to her?
4. What was it about the Toya’s fight with Jenelle and the video that had upset Miss Angie so much? In what way did Miss Angie see a part of herself in Toya? What significance did the African violet plant have for Miss Angie?
5. Toya had the perfect opportunity to get revenge against Jenelle by stealing her boyfriend. At the last moment, however, she couldn’t go through with it. Why not? What affect would it have had if Toya had actually gone through with her plan to get revenge on Jenelle?
6. Why do you think Toya agreed to see her mother, Tamika, after she had been out of her life for so long? How did running help Toya get through the stress she was feeling in the days leading up to her visit with her mother?
7. Through the photo albums that Tamika gives to Toya, we get a glimpse of Toya’s family and what her life had been like before foster care. How would you describe Toya’s natural family?
8. What motivated Mr. Rick to approach Toya that day as she walked home from school? Why do you think Toya decided not to tell anyone about her encounter with Mr. Rick?
9. Toya never seemed to be a shy person at any point in this story, so why do you think chose to go through the pretense of the “mystery date” with Terry instead of just telling him she wanted to go out with him? Why did Emily’s suggestion that Terry might not be excited about the thought of Toya as his mystery date cause her to freak out?
10. Toya finally revealed the truth to Miss Angie about being stalked by Mr. Rick. In what way was the response different this time than years earlier when Toya first told the truth about Mr. Rick? How was the response the same?
11. Toya had just experienced a great victory in the courtroom, celebrated with a fabulous dinner and experienced the excitement of seeing Miss Angie and Mr. Kevin finally becoming a couple, but that night all she could do was think about her mother. Why was she so worried about her mother? What did the decision to start calling Miss Angie now Mom-Angie say about her feelings about her mother?
12. Everything was perfect for Toya’s first official date with Terry, so why was she so unhappy? Why did Terry’s gift make her feel worse instead of better? What was it about her conversation with her Mom-Angie that calmed her down?
13. After reading the letter from Granny Jean, do you think it’s possible for Toya to have a relationship with her new little brother? With her mother?
1. When we first meet Toya, she has just arrived at her seventh foster home in five years. What kinds of adjustments has she had to make in her life in having to move from house to house to house over those five years? How has it affected her?
2. We know that Toya was attracted to Terry from the moment she first laid eyes on him. Yet when she had to chance to hang out with him for the first time and braid his hair, she ended “stabbing him in the head with a comb?” What did Terry do to upset Toya that day? In spite of that rough beginning, why do you think Toya and Terry became friends so quickly?
3. When Toya called Terry for the first time, she encountered his mother—who was not pleased that Toya had called her son so late at night. Before hanging up on Toya, she told Toya “…you are not a decent girl.” Those words seemed to haunt Toya throughout the book. Why do you think those words stuck with Toya for so long, even though others had said far worse things to her?
4. What was it about the Toya’s fight with Jenelle and the video that had upset Miss Angie so much? In what way did Miss Angie see a part of herself in Toya? What significance did the African violet plant have for Miss Angie?
5. Toya had the perfect opportunity to get revenge against Jenelle by stealing her boyfriend. At the last moment, however, she couldn’t go through with it. Why not? What affect would it have had if Toya had actually gone through with her plan to get revenge on Jenelle?
6. Why do you think Toya agreed to see her mother, Tamika, after she had been out of her life for so long? How did running help Toya get through the stress she was feeling in the days leading up to her visit with her mother?
7. Through the photo albums that Tamika gives to Toya, we get a glimpse of Toya’s family and what her life had been like before foster care. How would you describe Toya’s natural family?
8. What motivated Mr. Rick to approach Toya that day as she walked home from school? Why do you think Toya decided not to tell anyone about her encounter with Mr. Rick?
9. Toya never seemed to be a shy person at any point in this story, so why do you think chose to go through the pretense of the “mystery date” with Terry instead of just telling him she wanted to go out with him? Why did Emily’s suggestion that Terry might not be excited about the thought of Toya as his mystery date cause her to freak out?
10. Toya finally revealed the truth to Miss Angie about being stalked by Mr. Rick. In what way was the response different this time than years earlier when Toya first told the truth about Mr. Rick? How was the response the same?
11. Toya had just experienced a great victory in the courtroom, celebrated with a fabulous dinner and experienced the excitement of seeing Miss Angie and Mr. Kevin finally becoming a couple, but that night all she could do was think about her mother. Why was she so worried about her mother? What did the decision to start calling Miss Angie now Mom-Angie say about her feelings about her mother?
12. Everything was perfect for Toya’s first official date with Terry, so why was she so unhappy? Why did Terry’s gift make her feel worse instead of better? What was it about her conversation with her Mom-Angie that calmed her down?
13. After reading the letter from Granny Jean, do you think it’s possible for Toya to have a relationship with her new little brother? With her mother?
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An Excerpt From: Fear of Falling ...And Falling Again
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I know most people would simply go to the virtual pet store, order up a pet, and boom! An hour later, they’re a pet owner. If I’m going to find a four-legged friend to cuddle up with and keep me company until Gen-Mate decides to be kind to me, I feel like this is a decision I need to make in person. I may have decided to leave my future spouse in the hands of science, but my choice in pets will be based on good ol’ fashion instinct. At least I can still have control in some areas of my life.
I choose an orange and white Calico cat. I know Ma told me to get a dog—she was only half kidding. But I certainly don’t want some furry monster drooling all over me and my pretty tiled floors. As soon as I see her, there is an instant connection. The way she looks at me with those piercing green eyes, like she’s saying: I don’t know why you keep walking by me. You know you want to pick me up. And so, I do. I pick her up and she curls up into my arms, purring for me the most beautiful melody. Sold!!! I call her Love. Yes, it’s kind of sappy, but this whole Gen-Mate drama has me in an emotionally fragile state. I can see it now. I come home and Love greets me at the door. I’m having a bad day and Love cuddles up on the couch with me. I’ll never eat dinner alone again, because Love will dine with me every day. Man, was I wrong! Love hates me. I come home after a long day at work, Love runs the other way. I sit on the couch and wait for her to cuddle with me, she walks right by me, to the other side of the room, and stares out the window. I’ve tried six different brands of food—really expensive food—and she turns up her nose every time. As she struts away, she let out a tiny meow, as if to say, “somebody get meowt of this place!” What happened to the sweet, little ball of lovin’ that wooed me at the animal shelter? I’m starting to feel like I’ve been set up. Like my girl Love took some advice from her shelter friends. “Listen, you wanna get out of here, girl?” one of the other cats probably said. I bet it was that smokey gray one with the two different colored eyes. “Here’s whatcha do. Find a mark. Preferably a lonely woman. Give her ‘the look.’ And when she picks you up, lay it on real thick. Rub up against her and purr real sweet. You’ll have her eating out of the palm of your paws.” And Smokey was right. Here I am, giving it my all—all my heart and my money. Desperate for just one minute of Lady Love’s time and attention. In return, all I get is her furry cold shoulder. “Why did you get a female?” Aries says to me, as we’re on the way to the vet. Things are so bad between me and Love, I decide to get her checked out. To see if there’s actually a heart in there. “Females are the worst. They’re so cold and aloof.” “I swear she wasn’t like that in the shelter. She was all warm and affectionate.” “Was she really warm and affectionate, Annie? Or did you just see what you wanted to see?” At this point, I’m not so sure. Because I’ve seen no trace of the love in Love since the shelter. The vet says she’s okay. A perfectly healthy, cold and aloof European Short Hair cat. “Why didn’t you get a dog?” says my mother. After I drop off Aries, I pop in to check on her. She had gone off the grid again, plotting her next move in the Tech the Halls campaign. She would have been furious at the idea of me checking up on her, so I come under the guise of introducing her to my new cat. Not surprisingly, Love takes to Nova like a long-lost friend. Love curls up on my mother’s lap and purrs so loud, I can barely hear my mother say, “I told you to get a dog.” “Seriously, Ma, do you really see me as a dog person?” “No, but I don’t see you as a cat person, either.” She strokes Love in long deep strokes from her ears all the way down to her tail and the cat practically moans. I feel like yelling: Get a room, you two! Ma adds, “Maybe a fish. I see you more as a fish person.” “I had fish, remember? They died the day after I got them.” “Oh yeah! That’s right. Well, you’ve had Love for three weeks now and you haven’t killed her. So you’re doing something right.” “Ma!” I nearly burst into tears. “What? I’m sorry. I was kidding. You know I was kidding.” Then really I do burst into tears. Love can’t stand my weeping. She hops off Ma’s lap and disappears. I slide right into her place, plopping my head on my mommy’s lap. Now that her hands are free, she rubs my back. “What is it, honey?” I know she’s just kidding, but that’s just it. “This is serious for me, Ma. I’m hurting and you don’t even care.” She’s speechless. “I-I…What do you mean I don’t care? You’re my baby girl. Of course, I care. I just want you to be happy.” “So do I.” “You want to be happy, so you get a cat as a placeholder until you get a man. I never raised you to need a man for your happiness.” “I don’t need a man to—” “You don’t? From Grayson to the man-of-the-week on those dating feeds to now letting some computer pick your husband for you.” “I’ve got news for you, Ma. It’s the twenty-third century. Men are back in style. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means, unlike you, we like men again.” “Yeah, you like men. The problem is, you like any ol man. You let them pop in and out of your life—out of your bed, with no regard for what they’re all about? Their passions. Their future plans. How those plans fit with yours.” I pick my head up from her lap and just stare at her. “Are you seriously giving me advice on how to pick a husband?” She sighs. “Lord knows, I’m no expert. But even you have to admit, you’re getting off course here.” “What course? What does that even mean?” “It means, ever since your friends started getting married, you’ve put yourself into this competition to find a mate. It’s not about finding love. It’s about keeping up with the Lionesses.” “That’s crazy.” |
“No, that’s truth. The truth is, the child I raised has never been obsessed with finding a man. Never cried over not having a man—”
“I’ve cried! I’ve cried a lot. I just wouldn’t dare do it in front of you because you’d call me weak…or just make a joke about it, like you did today.” My mother knows me so well. She knows she’s pushed me close to my breaking point. She dials it back. Squeezing my hand, she says, “I know I can be tough on you…but it’s just because I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.” “I know.” “And I know you just want to be happy. But honestly, honey. The happiest I’ve ever seen you was when you were running your business and making—” I pull my hand away. I’ve heard this speech before and I wasn’t in the mood to hear it again. “I know you don’t want to hear it. But it’s true, Annora. You were doing it. You were doing your thing. Designing homes. Positioning yourself to build the dream building, the Emerald—” “The Diamond.” “That’s what I meant, the Diamond. The Diamond.” She lets out a little snicker. “I remember the first time showed it to me. In Cape May, remember?” “Of course I remember.” “You were seven years old and you sculpted it out of sand with your tiny, little hands…” Her eyes always get all dreamy when she remembers the ancient days when I was still moldable. “I said, ‘what’s that you’re making there, honey.’ And you said, ‘I’m making—”’ “Making the future, Mommy,” I say along with her. “You were missing your two front teeth and you looked so cute. So sure that you were going to make it happen.” She sighs and adds, “I hate that you let that Grayson rob you of your dream.” “He didn’t rob me of anything.” “You haven’t done the one thing you were passionate about since you broke up with him. I call that robbery,” as she says this, Love returns to her lap. It’s like they’re ganging up on me now. “No more lawsuits, no threat of bankruptcy, no more having my name dragged through the mud. I call it survival.” “You were made to do so much more than survive, Annora.” She looks so earnestly into my eyes, I want to look away. But I can’t. “Live. Live each day to the full. Love the people God has put in your path. Pursue your passion. Love will find you.” “Love may find me. With Gen-Mate, love is guaranteed to find me.” “There are no guarantees, Annora,” Ma replies. And Love has the nerve to meow in agreement. Love sleeps peacefully the whole ride back up to my skyrise. As soon as I walk inside, set her carrier down and flip open the latch, Love makes a break for it, disappearing up the stairs. I should’ve left her in the Bottoms with my mother. Those two couldn’t have been a better fit if Gen-Mate had matched them, personally. Speaking of Gen-Mate, it’s been a few weeks since I’ve checked my beta-mail. After my talk with Perrin, I figured it was probably best for my sanity—as Libra would say—if I took a little break from it. I had used my junk beta-mail for Gen-Mate, anyway, so it was no big deal to go weeks without checking it, unless I was looking for free porn or sexual performance injections, which for some reason always cluttered that beta-mail account. Three weeks should be enough time to be chosen by somebody. I hold my nose and wade through the all the junky beta-mails until I find it. The most recent message from Gen-Mate. I click on it. Nothing. Still no mate. I don’t understand this! Was this some cruel joke? Was someone trying to mess with my head? Who would hate me this much as to put me through this torment? I stumble into my bedroom before the waterworks start again. Love is sprawled out on my bed, preening herself like the Queen of Sheba. As soon as she sees me, she scatters. My mother raised me to be strong, but I feel myself breaking. Rejected by Gen-Mate. Rejected by Love. The Jones streak, or should I say the Jones curse, must have mutated with my generation, so that, not only do our marriages not last past ten years, my generation must have devolved into not getting married at all. I give up. It’s too hard. Too hard to keep my heart open like this. It’s not just about the three fruitless months on Gen-Mate. It’s the years invested in a lie with Grayson. And the seven-year void in between. I let it all out. In the privacy of my bedroom, in my luxury condo, I bawl my eyes out. Ugly tears. I sob into my pillow, near hyperventilation, certain that I’ll never stop, because it seems this pain has no end. I notice a strange sensation. Movement on my bed. A light furry ball resting in the space beside my armpit. I hear Love’s gentle purr. Purrrr…Purrrrr…Purrrr. A slow and easy cadence. It’s not long before my breathing slows down to match the rhythm of Love’s purr. I realize something about this little gift I brought home from the shelter. Love may be elusive. Love may be complicated. But when I really need her…Love is here for me. |