| One G-String Short of Crazy |
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Derrick Tolbert handed the valet the keys to his BMW along with an extra ten dollars to
make sure he’d park it far away from other cars. The last thing he needed was some
dings on his baby. Like a parent eyeing his child being led away by a kindergarten
teacher on his first day of school, Derrick watched as the attendant carefully drove off
with his car. He waited a moment to listen for the squeal of tires. When he didn’t
hear the telltale sign of abuse, he strolled off, whistling. A Mercedes is next, he
thought.
In Chicago, where there were more Michael Jordan clones running around per capita
than in any other city, Derrick had his own flavor and he made heads turn. Just half
an inch over six three, two hundred fifteen pounds, with more muscles than a World
Wrestling Entertainment wrestler and the color of a ripened mango, Derrick was
gorgeous.
He sauntered into his favorite restaurant and the maitre d’ immediately escorted him
across the room to his table. En route Derrick waved and smiled at more people than
a campaigning politician. Chicago’s African-American lawyer population was
sizeable, but he knew most of them, and it looked like they all were eating at the
restaurant tonight.
Halfway across the restaurant he could see Darla, his girlfriend sitting stiffly as
though she had a pole for a spine. He slowed his steps, not looking forward to what
he had to do. He nervously tugged at his collar and glanced longingly at the bar.
“Man up,” Derrick ordered himself, causing the anxiety to disappear just as quickly as
it came. As soon as Derrick made it to the table Darla’s stance immediately relaxed.
“Hey,” she gushed, then hopped up, threw her arms around him and kissed him so
hard that he was sure she had bruised his lips.
“Umm, hi baby,” he said, pulling away. “Thanks for the enthusiastic welcome.” He
rubbed his hand across his mouth.
“Did I hurt you? I’m sorry. Let me make it better,” Darla murmured as she inched
closer to Derrick’s mouth.
“I’ll be okay,” Derrick assured her as he moved his lips out of kissing range and
pecked her on the forehead before landing into his seat. “What a day,” he moaned as
he signaled the waiter and ordered a martini.
“Bad day, baby?” Darla asked, and Derrick shook his head.
“Quite the opposite—it’s been a phenomenal day. One that’ll go down in the Derrick
Tolbert Hall of Fame.”
Darla’s eyes widened and she fixed a pointed gaze on him. “Wow. That sounds
exciting! What happened?”
“I got the job.”
Darla pursed her mouth in concentration. “At Steinbeck and Holmes? That’ll be nice
since it’s downtown.”
“Not that one?”
“Oh, then the one in Houston?”
“No not that one,” Derrick answered slowly.
“Whew. I was afraid that we were moving. Which one then?”
“Atlanta baby! I’ll be lawyering in Atlanta!”
“I love Atlanta! The weather is a thousand times better. And I might run into that fine
Michael Vick. So when are we moving?” Darla asked, grinning up at Derrick
expectantly. His jaw dropped so far down that he couldn’t pick it up. Darla’s eyes
widened with disbelief. “You’re not going to take me with you?” she asked, her voice
quavering with hurt.
Derrick began squirming in his seat as though he was on the witness stand. “You
have your job and I know how much you love it.”
“It’s only a job, and I can find another one in Georgia. It shouldn’t be too hard to find a
job as a software engineer. So many companies are headquartered there—Coca
Cola, UPS and Home Depot. And there are tons of smaller companies.”
“I wouldn’t want you to do that—not for me,” Derrick said, his brows furrowed with
irritation. “Besides, all your family is here.”
“They would love to visit me in Atlanta, especially momma. Atlanta has the best
shopping. And Daddy would love to see the Falcons play, Nathan could check out
Morehouse, he’s thinking about becoming a doctor, and—”
“I don’t think you should come with me,” Derrick blurted out.
“You don’t think I should come with you?” Darla repeated. “You’re breaking up with
me?”
“Well no…”
“Oh, so we’re gonna try the long-distance thing?” she asked, relieved.
“Well, no, I won’t have time for that. I’ll need to focus on my job. I’ll need to figure out
my next step.”
“So you are breaking up with me?”
Derrick began fiddling with his drink, then: “I guess I am.”
“I love you, Derrick,” she said quietly, her words ringing with desperation.
“I love you too, baby,” he insisted.
“So why are you leaving me?” Darla tearfully asked as their two-year relationship was
becoming another piece of black history.
“Don’t cry,” he softly pleaded. “This opportunity is too good for me to pass up. My
salary will be doubled, the company is gonna give me a —”
“I don’t care what you’re going to get,” Darla hissed, her tears gone and her eyes as
cold as a Chicago winter day. “Answer my question. Why are you leaving me? I
thought we were going to get married. We even looked at rings.”
“You looked at rings,” Derrick said, exasperated, then blew out a stream of air.
“Listen, let’s not have this conversation here. Let’s go back to my place and talk in
private. We can get our dinner to—”
Darla vigorously shook her head. “I want to talk about it now. Why-are-you-leaving-
me?” she bluntly asked.
Derrick shifted nervously in his seat. Tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth,
rang in his ears. But not if it hurts someone. “I’m not leaving you. I’m leaving
Chicago.” There, he thought, satisfied. But his smugness was short lived.
“Why Derrick?” Darla asked, the tears returning. “Just tell me the truth. Is it the sex?
Is it the way I drool at night? Is it the way I look?” She looked him squarely in the eyes
then asked, “Is it someone else?” Derrick shook his head. “Then what?”
Derrick silently regarded the woman who had been at his side for the past two years.
She was gorgeous, almost flawless, but she reminded him of vanilla pudding.
Together they had as much spark as a water-logged Eveready battery. “Because I’m
not in love with you,” Derrick admitted. Darla let out a strangled wail. “Shit! Darla, I’m
sorry.”
“All those times, you told me…and you just told me ten minutes ago that you loved
me. I don’t believe it,” she whispered too dazed to cry. “So it was all fake? Us?” she
said pointing to Derrick, then to herself. “So we weren’t real?”
“We were real!” Derrick insisted. “And I do love you…but not the way you want me to
love you. Not in the way you deserve to be loved.”
“So why drag it out for two years, Derrick? Why couldn’t you have told me six months
into it? Hell, a year into it? You’ve wasted my fucking time!” she spat.
“I’m sorry,” Derrick whispered helplessly.
Darla stood up on wobbly legs, planted her hands on the table and looked directly
into Derrick’s eyes. “I’m sure you’ve heard the saying: What goes around comes
around,” she continued without waiting for his response. “Well, life is gonna sucker
punch you so hard that it’s gonna turn you inside out.”