Olivia glanced in the rear-view mirror to make sure she appeared presentable for the kids. She tucked a few stray pieces of hair behind her ears before smoothing the sides with her hands. To maintain her natural appearance, she applied a touch of lip gloss on her full lips. Now, she felt prepared to face the potential war zone.
Olivia surveyed her surroundings in the parking lot before opening the door. A rain-soaked, mangy cat sat on the grass grooming its mud-caked fur. The animal didn’t pay any attention to Olivia with the one eye it had when she got out of her car. She tipped on her toes across puddles to make her way to the sidewalk.
A couple of men stood underneath the overhang by the stairwell. Each held their early morning choice of beverage. Bottles of beer. They took sips in between the words exchanged with each other. Olivia overheard part of their heated conversation as she approached.
“But what has he done for the African American community?” One man in baggy faded blue jeans with suspenders and a plaid shirt questioned with an emphasis on each word.
The other man swiveled his head left and right several times in frustration. His San Antonio Spurs jersey fit snug around his thick waistline. “Man, don’t come at me with that ish. You know good and well; President Obama has done a lot for our community and our country. Quit trippin’. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. once said, ‘Nothing in all the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.”
“I ain’t even gonna waste my time voting.”
“You keep being foolish, we’re gonna end up with some unqualified Bozo the Clown in the White House next time. At least vote to make this country a better place for those ten kids you got. Quit trippin’ man.”
They paused long enough to acknowledge Olivia when she passed by. “Good morning ma’am,” the suspendered man greeted her with a snaggletooth smile. They gave her a pleasant head nod.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” she replied with a slight bend of her head in the familiar way Black people often do when passing each other. She heard them pick up on their argument where they left off.
A variety of dogs barked behind the closed doors of the apartments Olivia passed on the way to Malcolm’s place. “Goodness, it sounds like a kennel around here.”
Dogs were Olivia’s greatest fear. She became afraid after a red Irish Setter chased her as a child selling Girl Scout cookies.
Other than Christian complaining about having to use a small TV to play on his Xbox 360 in a cramped room, she had no idea about what their home would look like.
Olivia arrived at the apartment and knocked three times. The sound of two dogs barking above the sound of a loud TV caught her off guard. She snatched her hand back as if they were on her side of the door. One woofed like a huge canine and the other yipped as if it was a smaller one.
Malcolm nor the kids ever mentioned they had pets. “Oh shoot. I bet his woman brought these animals with her. They better not jump on me or I’ll scream bloody murder.” She backed away from the door and turned to position herself to bolt in case a dog dashed from the apartment.
She heard Malcolm’s voice, “Trixie. Tex. Get away from the door. Simone put the dogs in your room. Your mom is here.” The click of a deadbolt unlocking and the slide of a chain occurred at the same time.
The door opened and Olivia maintained her runner’s position. She strained her neck to peer behind Malcolm to make sure the dogs were gone. Satisfied when she heard their muffled barks most likely on the other side of a closed door, she turned forward and glared at him.
“You didn’t tell me you had dogs now.”
“Well, you never asked,” Malcolm snorted with a mocking grin. “Come on in, chicken.”
“Malcolm, you know I’m afraid of dogs. You should’ve put them away before I arrived. Promise me they won’t get out.” Olivia hesitated to enter the apartment. She peeked around him to make sure they weren’t lurking and waiting to devour her.
“They’re in Simone’s room and won’t get out. Come in.” Malcolm waved her inside. He swayed his head back and forth as if she should be ashamed of being scared.
“For someone who is crying broke, how do you afford to care for two pets? I don’t understand the logic at all,” Olivia
chided and walked in the door. The musty smell of an old apartment, bacon grease, and dirty dogs wafted into her nostrils. ESPN blared from a TV sitting on top of an outdated floor model television.
“Don’t start with me, Olivia. I’m not in the mood. Have a seat.”
“Your so-called fiancée isn’t here, is she?”
“She’s in the bedroom, Olivia. She isn’t planning to come out.”
“She better not. I would’ve preferred your fiancée wasn’t’ even in the apartment. That woman has no business being part of this conversation with our kids.”
“Look, Olivia. Whether you like it or not, she is my fiancée. I don’t want to argue with you. Sit and I’ll be back.” Malcolm sauntered through a hallway leading to a room where she heard a door open and close.
There wasn’t space for Olivia to sit on the dog hair covered sofa if she wanted to. A grungy blanket appearing to be gray, although it may have been white in a former life, laid across the back. Celebrity gossip magazines, along with empty bags of chips were strewn on and around the couch.
Olivia approached the kitchen table and considered sitting on one of the wooden chairs. Plates with leftover pieces of egg and bacon were in front of two of the seats. Bowls of
