For a few weeks after, though Rem and I were still “honeymooning,” he could tell that all was well-up until he had to hold out his plate again, for some “Angie-Act-Right.” Because after all the literal pure, meticulous, and righteous time we took to get here-to our “new level”-and as excited as we both were about it, for me, things took an expected turn. It was as if I was the guy, who got the girl pregnant and he was the girl-crying and wanting to keep the baby yet, I was the guy with the baby inside and he was the girl, crying overtime.
My cup was full and runneth over-and it was hurting him badly. The position I was in was so god-awful. And it hurt me twice to hurt him. It hurt him three times over to hurt me with the addition of his fight-in and effort to do (what he felt) was perfect and right for the both of us.
I get it. But missing my period, for me, was close to a death sentence.
I had been here, done that before.
With “love” of a man and a beautiful life growing inside of me, I had already taken a chance on forfeiting a whole life plan that was not only planned, but that I had trained and prepared for-all because of “love”-only to learn that “love” wasn’t enough when life ‘got in the way’—ultimately, “love” went away. The thought of being pregnant all over again was a nightmare to me that, exactly seven years earlier, I narrowly escaped.
Hell, even since that fateful, “Super Saturday”-cutting off my dad and forcing my mom to insist with me-even my dad was back in my life after having “heard” that I had a baby while I was estranged. The last he knew of me, I was a pre-teen attending a school that he got me into, preparing to fulfill dreams-not filling feet for tiny socks. The best reward out of that situation was learning that I at least graduated on time, was responsible and always held down a job.
So, he was back on board-supporting me financially and back to our (now) irregularly scheduled daddy-daughter lunch and dinner date program.
My dad was so into and on top of this thing with me now and scared to lose me again, such that he was a cross between being my personal assistant and servant at the same damned time.
If I wanted any to eat, wear, or just have any thing, he was on the spot-even if he had to bring it to me on my job, during lunch break.
He secretly wanted to make sure I wouldn’t be in the position to need a man for anything that, I’m sure, in his mind, he felt stepping in to do, would cure.
God forbid, a seven year itch resulted in coming back with baby #2 while he-himself was assisting with supporting me with baby #1.
As a dad-my dad-I could already tell that he had already tricked his own mind into pretty much thinking Lucky was a product of immaculate conception, and, considering the life I threw away and choices I made about my situation; I at least had the sense not to get caught up—again.
Been there, couldn’t relive that.
Been there, couldn’t face that—again.
I narrowly escaped the state of Teen Mom Typicalville, Statisticsville 00000 in ways that many teen moms could only dream of. Had I not had such a strong support net and literal “it takes a village to raise a child” like systems working with me, and waiting on me hand and foot, time and dime; my life would have definitely been nothing more than the teen mom statistic I fought so hard for it not to be. I was able to still have some semblance of teen normality despite being a teen mom.
Between my two aunties, close family friends and my supportive friends; I was able to fight my fight of insisting on graduating at seventeen years old as if no interruptions had happened and is if Santana-my “baby deady” wasn’t even needed after all.
I was good and over him, my old life that was and the parts of it that never did, as well as the life that once was our situation.
I now had a beautiful, thriving, happy child that knew nothing about his “baby deady” or anything bad because he was very much apart of and woven into his mom’s life of all things good for him.
A lot had happened within this [what would have been] seven years bad luck that I escaped.
So all I could say in response to all these people and systems that were, once upon a time, there for me-who certainly aren’t and wouldn’t be this time around-is: “I get it. In hindsight, I knew better, experienced what could have been worse, so therefore, should have done better.”
But the other fact (and reality) was; I was an adult now-not a teen mom with a “thimbletoed” boyfriend. I was a woman with a real man now who wanted his child yet, I was living this nightmare of mine of having only him to rely on-solely making me feel like I was heading for the kind of Teenmomville that I narrowly escaped.
I don’t know.
It was like I was living forward and thinking and feeling, backwards.
We were going through it during these few weeks-my, or him, having no idea the twist of fate coming his way. Not knowing, we were wasting time with fear vs. power and pride struggles: Him-applying pressure by not being home and available to me over the weekend, and me-fighting with him about my fears and reasoning-hoping he would see things my way, at least for now.
Rem was very hurt about my deciding so quickly. He felt like all the answers that I didn’t give him the first night we consummated the relationship, he certainly got when conception occurred-because now, we were at a strange intersection. He was so angry at me and thought that his being demonstratively upset with me would be enough to make me change my mind. But not even the fact that I was with a man that was truly-madly-deeply-in love with me, wanted to marry me, treated me well and cherished me-was a perfect enough reason for me. I had been-there-felt that, been-there-done that too; the whole sha-bang. I couldn’t get tricked into: “A Wonderful Fucked Up Life: Part Two.”
Though I truly-madly-deeply loved Rem, secretly, I was not ready for the responsibilities as mapped out by him without a baby, so, I sure as hell could not see doing it with one.
So, I panicked, reminiscing about the: 100 watts, 80 watts, 60 watts, 40 watts, 0 watts Santana epiphany.
The final conflict was among us.
We met at Rem’s house to talk this thing over. It was so time-capsule surreal. There I was, in my innocent years of life-teen mom pregnant and living a true to life and lyrics of a Madonna “Papa Don’t Preach” video-worried about what my very own papa would preach if, or when he was to find out that I was preggers.
Here I was-a woman now-with my man, literally living out the last for 1 minute and 20 seconds of the same damned video, with the same damned walls between us, looking about like the same damned stances-trying to figure out what to do, or with walls and space between us.
The opportunity was now, because little would we know, the ‘never’ after now was literally upon us…
Rem stepped came from behind his wall first:
“Angie. Why are you taking me through this? You are blowing the fuck out of my mind…”
I didn’t respond.
“I don’t want to be in a position to resent you. That’s killing me. Please…don’t, Angie.”
“I don’t want that, Rem. That’s killing me,” I returned.
“Rem, I’m going through a lot right now. I’ve been through a lot. I don’t want to go through ‘a lot’-no more,” I replied.
“Angie. I need to make you understand that I am not no sucka-ass, thimbletoed ass lil’ young boy with teen spirit angst and insecurities that runs away from my responsibilities. Is my baby’s mother in need of anything?” he asked.
“No,” I replied.
“Is my kid in need of anything?” he asked.
“No,” I replied.
“Do you know that if my baby’s mom found her a good man today, I would still be in my child’s life and financially support for my child?” he boasted.
“Knowing you, I know you would,” I replied.
“Then what’s the problem Angie? Listen to what you just said…What’s the problem?”
I didn’t respond.
“You don’t believe me when I tell you that I got us? You don’t believe me when I tell I’m gonna marry you? Let’s go get married. Let’s go get a new place-together-start fresh,” he challenged.
“Rem….You’ve got pride, I wanted proof of all this-pre baby, not during, and especially because of ‘baby.’ I want a smooth ride, not shotgun—because of a last minute situation. You don’t want to resent me by staying with me if I don’t have the baby yet, I don’t want to be secretly resented for your being forced to change your “life” plans because life ‘happened.’
Who wins here, Remy? Who?” I asked.
“Forced? I’m not forced, or pressured. Angie. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I will always love you. I had plans to marry. My mom knows. My uncles know, Hell, even my child’s mom, knows. I am and even ‘before baby’, he quoted with his fingers……“have always have been serious about you, Angie. And marrying you now, still won’t change the fact that I still love you and wanted to marry you ‘before baby.’ Past tense is just present-tense now, because we have a present—if you let it be,” he said, poetically.
This was the part where he knew I’d soften.
I returned: “Remy your mama even said you were always so serious about everything since you were a young boy. She was not lying, I chuckled.
“We are so young and you are so fun but yet, you got such a serious side about you,” I said.
“This is serious Angie. I have a right to be serious. And I’m not going to let your charm and your way make me fall back into seeing things your way. I already know what’s going to happen,” he said, assuredly.
“What’s going happen?” I challenged.
“For fear of losing you…no…correction: Leaving you. I’m gonna give in to you-just to keep you….some ole sucka shit. I know I would, for you. But I know that I am going to resent you…and I don’t want that…because I love you,” he sighed and continued:
“I’ve got to put the pressure on you for at least a couple of weeks…I’ve got to resist you to let you decide if your fears are worth losing what we have. Because I’m in love with you, you are about to weave this web around me seeing doing things your way and I’m going to resent you…and I don’t want that kind of energy between us. You feel like feel like heaven to me…I can’t deal with that mixture.”
I began to cry uncontrollably.
“Rem I’m so stressed out right now. My nerves are shot to shit. And I don’t want you to hate me…” I returned.
I could never ‘hate’ you…no more than I would ever leave you for anything but this…a rash, unfair, and unnecessary decision.”
Agitated, he grabbed my jowls with the anger of an overhand pinch and grab but instead, underhand grabbed me beneath my chin to bring me closer to him: forehead to forehead. Nose to nose. Heart to heart:
“Angie….It’s blowing my MiiiiiiIND that I’m even having this debate with you! We are so natural. I didn’t mean for it to happen. You didn’t mean for it to happen. We didn’t ‘plan’ for this to happen. We just let the moments happen-naturally. I’m sleeping with a woman who I was for sure would be the mother of my child, if anything were to happen,” he explained.
“Now, life is here-MY seed…in YOU,” he said, pointing at my heart like he always would, and too, this time—my tummy.
“You’re taking me through some shit, too!” he grunted.
I don’t want you to be stressed. I need you to be happy, and healthy. Let’s pull this together and get on the same page, now!” he insisted.
“This is not some high school relationship gone bust. You are a grown woman now, with child-like fears. I’m a grown man and I know what I gotta do. And I’m ready. These are the kinds of obstacles, and minor set-backs that adults go through every day. The adult thing here is to work around and continue, as planned! he asserted.
I felt so bad-reminiscing the day I told him I might be preggers. He was soooooo happy. Those eyes of his sparkled like diamonds between his eyelashes, but when they met the stoic look on my face, for the first time in the history of our relationship-that sparkle froze. And it had been that way, ever since. The confusion on his face now, was just like it was-then. I knew he was just as stressed and heartbroken as me.
Our roles were clearly reversed-and like a scene out of The Fly.
Here, this man was standing-pleading with me as if he was the end result of some science experiment gone bad where, somewhere before that end result, we conceived a child that I refused to keep:
The pressure was on. Remedy refused to go back and forth with me on the issue.
He leaned up against the sink and held me closely to him. It felt like goodbye of a different kind. He was so nervous. He spoke his peace:
“I remember when I first made love to you-you promised me…” he sighed…
“No regrets…no regrets, Remy…” you promised me, Angie, he sulked and choked.
Just like that same moment, we cried and kissed each other with tears riding down our faces.
In my mind, this time however, I replied: “I won’t let you down.”
In my mind, I gave him the answer he wanted to hear. But, where my mind was playing trick on me-I knew in my heart that my sanity wouldn’t be able to withstand being a single parent twice and that I would have to put all my trust in Remy. I just wasn’t ready to chance a possibility.
With an appointment date on the table, plus Rem’s timetable ticking by the day, a decision that would either have an expiry date or a ninth month due-date had to be made.
Lots happened between that appointment date and Remy’s deadline: A strange, cruel twist of deadly fate stepped in as the final decision maker of all the back and fourth, going through the motions and emotions between us both.
Ciara was at my door-banging, out of breath and bringing me the bad news-the worse news I didn’t expect to hear that took me allllll the way out:
“Angie…why you aint answering your phone?! I’ve been calling all afternoon! I caught the BUS over here…so glad you’re home.”
“What’s wrong! I pierced into her and asked-frightened.
“Remedy is dead!”
As if he had a common name like “John” I was hoping that she was telling me some news about some “John Doe” who found a ‘remedy’ for something, yet met his demise, unfortunately.
But no, it was my Remedy and no amount of “no’s” I could yell, cry and muster up could turn away the news that was just handed to me.
I feel to my knees right where my heart dropped and asked “HOW! And how do you know!?”
“Girl…you know his uncles’nem live on my side of town and it’s all out there! It happened last night! I found out this morning! My cousin was there! They rushed him to the hospital. Some people said he was in critical condition, other’s said he died. Call his people, call over to the hospital NOW!
I called. Got patched up to the room. His uncle answered:
“It’s Angie…It’s Angie. Hi…where’s Remmmmm?” I squealed…hoping to hear that he was stable and going to be okay with whatever I still hadn’t the details on as yet.
“Baby…baby…He didn’t make it. He didn’t make it. He died this morning…He didn’t make it,” said the uncle, regrettably-delivering a nightmare that I refused to imagine. He confirmed that the tag on John Doe’s toe was indeed tied around a wonderful human being…MAN named Remedy Rison-MY remedy to everything and kept me tamed, and same.
He passed away earlier that day. I was crushed to a million little pieces: truly, madly and deeply. I could not believe it. My mouth hung open in total disbelief just thinking about how senseless it was, and how such a beautiful man could be slighted of his chance in this world that he was so ready to take on.
“What haaaaaaaaaaaaapened?” I pleaded…
“Some cat shot him over at the rec center…I will give you the details about everything later babe, it’s a lot going on over here,” said Unc.
Is his mom there? I asked
“She’s on her way,” Unc answered.
“Remy and I….” I paused…fighting hard to hold back the words…
“Just take my number and keep me posted on everything. I need to see him, for myself. I’m so crushed right now. We had a lot going on…you just don’t understand,” I cried.
I then gave him my numbers to keep me posted on what would happen next.
The street’s deadly deets:
He got killed-senselessly-shot several times by an older guy who was heated over a neighborhood-friendly game of ball, rising testosterone and “disrespect.” The guy got upset during the game and they argued repeatedly. A shoving match followed.
Later, Rem tried to make a joke of the whole thing by adding his brand of almost serious humor and making jokes of things to ease the tension. That didn’t work.
After the game, Rem had tried to reconcile their differences but like a lil’ bitch, the guy refused to accept. When Rem was about to leave the rec center, the guy approached him, telling him that he felt “disrespected,” and from there-began to pump bullets into him-as if they were mere words or quips flying.
Rem then fell to the ground and tried to hide underneath a car for safety.
The guy ducked under the car and shot him repeatedly, some more. He then ran around to the side where Rem lay helplessly, to empty the chamber out in Rem’s face but was out of bullets by that time-they were all inside of Rem. The guy began to run away while the police and ambulance was being called where upon arrival; they found Rem balled up into a knot gasping for air saying: “help me man, help me, I’m ‘bout to die, I’m ‘bout to die.”—expressed Ciara, who’s cousin was there…hearing the last words and last breath of life of what would have been my baby’s dead daddy: Sister or brother of Lucky’s-the child who too, is formerly known as my baby’s deady.
Just…fuck the luck of my love life. I shook my head and cried. That’s all I could do to shake the shame and the pain. Rem should not have been taken away, regardless.
I sobbed uncontrollably, helplessly, just thinking about the past couple weeks and the time we wasted-arguing about our situation and, that, at this moment in time, was much-ado about nothing; especially as compared to now. Of all the time we spent together, I couldn’t help but obsess about this misfortune happening on a day that we would have either been on the phone, or most probably him cuddled up under me with my singing our favorite songs: “Show Me” or “I’m Coming Back.”
Ironically now, no remnants of Remedy was coming back-ever again and there, I was left with the remembrance of his having shown me what a real man was like. I was crushed-knowing that I would never meet anyone like Rem ever in life again. Nobody was like him.
He died not knowing what, if anything I was going to do with that appointment or not. He died not knowing what was happening to me.
Now that he was gone, I had nothing left of him for real, forever now. He had a whole world to conquer-and he had no plans on resting then yet, so senselessly, he was laid to rest anyway. The timing, the taking, and the irony of all this was just too much to make sense of.
On the way to the funeral, while in the car with Ciara the sounds of the words playing on the radio: “And girl…you know…that I would never hurt you…And girl you know…there aint nothing I wouldn’t do for you….So baby don’t…don’t ever doubt my love ‘cause it’s true…. Baby hold on to me…see I’m a special kind…a man that is hard to find…told you a thousand times…baby hold on to me…you’d better…you’d better,” Eddie and Gerald Levert were strumming my pain and singing for Rem, to me-the words. It stung me to tears.
At the wake, I was still too stung and now, too stunned to cry.
While there, I had finally met the mom who I would talk to on the phone many-a-days at while at Rem’s house. His mother was a Muslim woman. She was covered from head to toe, wrapped in all white as she sat in the front pew surrounded by his many female cousins.
I kneeled to introduce myself and pay my respects to Remedy’s mom: “Hello to you. I am Angie, Remedy’s close personal friend that used to be over to the house all the time. I’ve talked to you on the telephone a few times,” I whispered in her ear.
Startled and with a look of total familiarity, she quickly looked up at my pitiful face, stood up and hugged me tightly; rocking me back and forth as the tears rolled down my face.
“Everything is going to be okay Angie. It’s going to be okay baby. I’m so sorry,” she consoled. She had NO idea that my tears were, too, for the loss of the reason to need to exchange phone numbers with her. She had no idea of the pits and pangs, guilt and shame of wondering would Rem had even been at that rec center if he and I weren’t having issues.
There I was, finally looking in the face of the woman that brought Rem into this world-the same woman who Rem would be on the phone with-excited for us to meet. I can still hear him say “Mom this is Angie. I’m going to marry this girl and I can’t wait for you to meet her. We are getting our lives right-and together…” he would look at me to confirm that I was still in this relationship with him—on the same page.
I could still see his sparkling eyes looking at me and speaking to this same woman, now, in front of me-on the phone: “This is the one I am going to spend my life with…I decided Ma. I love me some her. I can’t wait to make her happy,” he would say-looking at me as if everything to his mom was a deposit on a life assurance policy where there was no way I could renege or withdraw-because now, we had a witness. And what better witness could there be than a man’s mother? I could see the hope in his eyes.
Now, with his eyes closed shut, there he was-just a few feet away from me, laying in a casket that I was terrified to walk up to just yet.
After tight hugs from the uncles, I spotted BabyMama at the end of that row in the pew right behind Remy’s mother. I gave her a respectful nod before finally mustering up the courage to walk up to Rem laying there lifeless. This was not like him. No life.
I needed to see for myself this John Doe. No…Rem. No…John Doe.
No…I looked down at Rem and I had to face the fact that it was him, lying there.
It was really Remedy lying there looking not so much as at peace, but like his last living expression on his probably was: “This was not supposed to happen. What am I doing laying here like this? But I will just lay here.”
It was like an outer body experience for me-something hard to digest.
He was all wrapped in all white with two Muslims standing at the front side of his casket like they were on guard. Impulsively, I reached out to touch Rem’s face and they told me that I could not touch the body. That’s when tears burst out from my face. I couldn’t see his eyes sparkle or touch his face. That was much too much for me. I needed so badly to just pinch him to prove to myself that this was all just a dream. My face must’ve told it all:
“I’m so sorry, but his body needs to remain pure and untouched. I’m so sorry,” the one man whispered to me.
They didn’t understand. They didn’t understand that if there was any life left in him or any life from his spirit to breathe life into me in this most broken moment of my LIFE right now, the purest thing between us was our tears. I needed the warmth of my tears and my hands to touch his face. They just didn’t understand…
When I walked back to my seat, I spotted the girl from the rowdy high school that hated me so badly: Heckla. Turns out, she too, was his cousin on his father’s side. I wondered why I never thought about it-she had his same last name. But then too, at that time, Rem and I were just close friends who happened to work together at a few different marketing spots in town.
She spoke to me, then reached out to hug and apologize to me: this time, two times.
“I’m sorry that we never officially met and I’m sorry that we have to meet like this. I’m so sorry for your loss. It’s mine too, boy…” she said, shaking her head.
“Thank you. I appreciate that. I appreciate that, I whispered twice-back to her while she consoled me…and I consoled her.
I finally made my way down to the second pew to BabyMama, who could finally rest her eyes from averting back and forth as I talked to everyone in the pews in front of her-probably wondering if I had it in me to look her in the face and say something to her, too.
Well I did, and I shared a hug of condolence with her: “Take care of, and hug Madison for me,” I said to her.
She replied: “I didn’t want to bring Madison, but he understands what’s going on,” she said to me.
She then took out a picture of Rem sitting down holding Madison on his lap.
Rem looked so handsome, so happy. Madison was such a mini version of Rem-all about the eyes.
I kneeled down to her, gave her my contact info and asked if, at her leisure, I could get a copy of that photo of Madison and Rem. She assured me that she would—but that never happened…
The guy that killed him just didn’t know what he took away from me. Rem was smack dead in the middle of FATHERHOOD…in the middle of LIFE…in the middle of LOVE. And now, outside of an obituary and material things around my apartment that he gave to me and bought for me, all I had left of him were many lessons and the kind of love I had never experienced before.
No more traces of Rem, for never, for sure…just…gone.
I sulked and sobbed for weeks trying to pull myself together.
If there ever was such a thing as a true to life “Ghost” moment, I wanted it. Because I knew Remedy would never have left me out here in this
I fantasized of some Whoopi Goldberg character reaching out to me to inform me that Rem was trying to reach me, not resist me, resent me, or regret me. I needed some sign.
I needed some sign that rather than a light and spiritual one; a technological one when later, a change in times afforded me to at least see Madison all grown up with his daddy’s
entire face, smile, eyes, lips, and fingers used to write a wall full of deep thoughts, feelings and life plans-just like his daddy. Just like his daddy, he was so young to be so preoccupied with such deep thoughts, daily. Things he would say would be the same type of stuff Rem would. His incessant use of the word “sucka” and “sucka shit”-just like Rem would. “You have no idea how much you are your daddy’s child,” I would say aloud. It brought tears of joy to my eyes, down to my cheeks-watching Rem reincarnated in this life. It was weird….like Rem, himself was writing on that wall. That was my “Ghost” moment. I got it…
No, I didn’t forget that BabyMama lost Rem: Too-and while he loved another woman: Me. So yes, it hurt for me to see that I could tell that BabyMama carried a little bit of bitterness about Rem when I would see Madison express himself and mention Rem. It hurt to know that she probably didn’t give Madison the best version of his beautiful, virile, sexy, wonderful, intelligent, ambitious, manly, mature father. Quite frankly, in defense of her, she probably didn’t even have a best version to give, seeing as though his best version was given to me. I understand that.
Regardless, I at least got a chance to view Madison mention wishes of having had Remedy around and express his disdain for gun violence which, in another strange twist of fate, was the same exact way and scenario by which Madison himself, died young—just like his father did. And an eventual wall full or RIP’s and anecdote’s about his personality that was painfully, obviously, just like Rem’s.
As if that wasn’t surreal enough, watching snippets of Heckla intercept Madison’s wall writings turned into nothing when, shortly after Madison’s death, she died in her sleep. That other “Ghost” reared its ugly head in ways I didn’t imagine, expect, have answers–or a Whoopi for…
All I had was what I knew for sure: That every single remnant of Remy was gone for good-between us and outside of us. And who would’ve thunk it. Along with having gotten that gift of a Ghost moment I wanted, I would be tortured all over again later in this situation of a life I was left living and forced to go on without the love of my life, never again.
It was like a line clear out of a Lauryn Hill song-strumming my pain with her fingers, singing my life with her words: “They’ll make you now…then take you down—and make you face it…if you’ll slit the bag open, put you a pinky in it and taste it.”
Because after the death of Rem, years later and a few years apart, as a result of some strange social media summoning, I watched Rem’s son Madison and Heckla e-die right before my very snooping eyes. It was as if God putting life on fast-forward…
…letting me get glimpse in and slip my pinky finger in and taste the energy of Rem through life belonging to him-growing up-right before my prying and crying eyes. Then just like that, slid the savory sample off the desk and if to say “Carry, on…there’s nothing more (and nobody else) to see here”—all in an effort to give me what I longed for—then forced me to move on.
SNEAK PEEK FROM THE UPCOMING/NEXT EXCERPT:
His mother hadn’t made her way downstairs during the meeting and spirits but boy when she did; she
made her presence known in the worse way. It was like she was waiting on at the DOOR.
It was like she set me up-knowing she had NO plans, place or place setting for me at that damned table to be blessed on that night. She played this whole scene out in her mind; I could feel it-the moment she walked down the steps. I could read the transmission of her energy as much and her face was becoming more and more familiar to me-each step she took down those stairs.
Talk about familiarity breeding contempt. When she sashayed down those steps, she hadn’t even reached the bottom before turning her head to the right and down at me. She locked eyes on me and squinted with a look of familiarity-verifying I was just the one she wanted to see. I could tell that it was “me” she was expecting me-all the way down to the pace that she tread that damned staircase-giving off a vibe that of out of everyone in the house, she already knew something that was about to go down that no one else in the house knew nothing about.
When she reached the bottom to face me, she looked at me as if I was over for a visit tonight to have a pow wow with her about her husband with whom I had some torrid affair with.
She pierced into me as if I was that same woman who, as well, once boiled a rabbit in her kitchen and
once stood in her home with a knife in my hand-cutting into my thigh and shaking like I had Tourettes Syndrome.
That moment she waited on-to look me in the face-was so strong that she forgot to speak—or, didn’t even plan too.
She lost all her manners and formalities. Everyone in the room could feel the tension. Even
THE ABOVE-POSTED EXCERPTS ARE FROM THE NOT YET PUBLISHED PREQUEL / BOOK 2 “Angie Situation” series/trilogy
BOOK 1- PUBLISHED:
TABLE of CONTENTS
- The Roots of Picked Fruit 17
- The Precocious Ripening 33
- Ripe & Ready. Gangs, Bangs & Pangs 39
- The Queen Bee in Me 63
- Another Level. Blossoming. Beautiful. 80
- TGGF, Male Model & Me 101
- TGGF & Me 112
- Divorcing Dad 124
- You Know Who 130
- First Flings First 139
- In the Lion’s Den 170
- Cold Shoulders and Frozen Dancing Feet 195
- Pills & Frills 204
- You Know What: I Told You So 209
- Dichotomies & Dazes 228
- Situations, Decisions & Transitions 241
- Up, Out & Away 244
MEET the AUTHOR Q & A 254
READING GROUP GUIDE 257
SNEAK PEEK into book2 (“Angie Situation NAIVETE’” )’s CHAPTER ONE 260
OTHER BOOKS BY ANGELA SHERICE 269
ABOUT the AUTHOR 270
Media Maestro .
Writing Rhinoceros .