“Between slaving for Hank at that rusty-ass diner and school, you are a hermit, damn near.” Destiny glanced at the magazine. “You know, Obama is making other men look bad.”
I closed the magazine and glared at her. “What do you mean by that?”
She held her palms up defensively in my direction. “Ease up. I mean that in a good way. He’s destined to become the most powerful man in the United States, one of the most powerful men in the world, and he still has date night with his wife. He even takes her out in different cities. If Barack can make quality time for Michelle, and their kids, other men have no excuse.”
I snickered. Every once in a while, Destiny came up with a gem of wisdom. “That’s a damn good point. You should do a blog on that topic.”
“A blog? You’re tripping. I don’t know how to do a blog, and no one gives a shit about what I have to say anyway.”
“I give a shit and blogging is simple. Everyone’s doing it. It’s the best therapy in the world, really.” I sighed. “I even have a blog.”
Destiny eyed me suspiciously. “So you feel like you have to type your thoughts on the internet instead of talking with me, or other people you actually know, about them?”
“Now you’re being overdramatic. I blog about funny shit that Tony does at the diner, how amazed I am that so many men are on the down-low, how much of an asshole Hank can be, how tough school can be, that kind of stuff.”
“I’m so sick of hearing about that down-low shit.” Destiny sat back on the sofa, glanced at her watch, and sighed. “Men today have it hard because too many women assume they are fucking other men.”
“Destiny, I hear you, but you should see some of the men that Tony picks up at the diner. In a million years, I would never peg some of them as rump wranglers. They come in there with women and act like they are head over heels in love and then let Tony break them off in the bathroom or slip them his number. It’s a damn shame, I tell you.”
“Are you serious?” Destiny asked in amazement. “Tell me you’re making this crap up!”
I shook my head. “I see it with my own eyes, all the time. Being on the down-low is nothing new. It’s just a more familiar term today. There was a song called ‘Boys in the Boat’ in the thirties that used that term, but that song was about lesbians.”
“Get out!”
“No, for real. Someone named George Hannah made it. People use it more now to talk about how men have sex with other men and then bring diseases home to their women.” I paused. “It’s a scary-ass world out there.” Destiny was staring at me, making me feel uncomfortable. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because you spend way too much time on the internet. That’s become your best fuckin’ friend.”
“That’s not true, but I do enjoy surfing. We’re in a great age. Instead of having to look things up in an encyclopedia, everything is readily available on the Web. Think about it, if it were not for the internet, none of us would even look up one-hundredth of the stuff we learn about on there. That’s how I keep up with the news and the latest gossip.”
“And that’s how you express your feelings, on your blog.”
“I vent about life.”
“Your feelings, just like I said. Why can’t you talk to me?”
“Destiny, I talk to you all the time. Don’t go there. I know you’re always here for me.”
“So why the blog?” She seemed offended that I had a blog.
“I blog because it relieves stress. It’s like keeping an online diary but the names and places have been changed to protect the innocent, and to keep my ass from being fired.” We both laughed. “I have about thirty followers. Not sure where they came from or why they would want to follow my boring behind, but they do. It’s no big deal.”
“You need to do a blog about how to pretend you love one man when your heart belongs to another.”
A frown immediately overshadowed my face.
“Never mind,” Destiny said. “I know you’ll never admit your feelings for Damon.”
“I haven’t even spoken to Damon.”
“That doesn’t mean shit. I haven’t spoken to Harold in two weeks and I love him just as much as I always have.”
We fell silent. Destiny was thinking about what had gone wrong with her relationship with Harold. Actually, his actions—cheating on her—were nothing new. Destiny’s refusal to accept it was new. She had surprised me when she came home one day and announced that she was “sick of his shit.”
I could tell that she was having a hard time dealing with the breakup, even though it was about time she put her foot down. She was hoping to drown her sorrows by allowing another man—probably Wesley after the sensuous Punany Poets performance—to knock a hole in her pussy. I couldn’t fault her for that; I was fucking Patrick on the rebound from Damon, even though he was never officially my man.
“Harold can kiss your monkey,” I said, trying to make light of a heavy situation. “I’m so glad that you’re dating someone else. I can’t wait to meet Wesley.”
“Shit, now you’ve got me scared to go out with him.”
“Why?”
“What if he’s on the down-low?”
I chuckled. “I’m sure he isn’t.”
Destiny sucked her teeth. “Brooke, two minutes ago, you were talking about how men come in the diner with their chicks and then want to break Tony off. Now you’re so sure about Wesley. Please, I’m not sure about a damn thing.”
“Most men still love pussy, Destiny. Relax and have a good time tonight. Going out with him doesn’t mean you have to fuck him, even though, knowing you, you will.”
Destiny tried to seem upset, but ended up bursting out laughing.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve, hooker. How long did it take you to give up those drawers to Patrick again?”
“Twenty hours and forty-seven seconds from the time I laid eyes on him,” I said sarcastically, then giggled. “That’s why I know you’re going to fuck until the sun comes up. It takes one to know one.”
“Wesley’s ass is borderline late, and you know something else about me. Fifteen minutes late and he’ll be standing downstairs looking like BoBo the Clown because Homey don’t play that.”
“You and that damn In Living Color.” Destiny had the entire DVD collection of that Keenen Ivory Wayans show. It was a good stress reliever and funny as all get-out when you were drunk or high and watched it. “What times does the show start at the Black Box?”
“Eleven.”
It was only a little past nine. “You still have plenty of time to eat and make it there.”
“I wonder if Wesley eats pussy,” Destiny blurted out. “Harold eats a mean pussy. I’m not sure if I can date a man who doesn’t get the munchies.”
“I’m going to speak that into existence for you.”
“You’re crazy!”
“Seriously, if you speak something into existence, it will happen.”
“What are you going to speak into existence for yourself? That you can force yourself to care about Patrick again, or that Damon leaves his wife for you?”
“I do care about Patrick, Destiny. I may not think the earth revolves around him like I used to, but I still care. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be dealing with him at all.”
“And Damon?”
“What about Damon?” I hoped that she would drop the subject, or that Wesley would ring the buzzer downstairs. After a few seconds, I gave in. “Damon’s not leaving his wife, nor do I want him to leave her. I want Damon to be happy. He deserves it.”
“And so do you.”
“Not at the expense of someone else’s misery, I don’t.”
“Do you think he would leave her if you asked?”
“I don’t know and I’ll never know because I’ll never ask. Can we let this go?”
Saved by the bell!
The buzzer from downstairs started going off and Destiny jumped up from the sofa, excited, and ran to the intercom. “Wesley?”
“Yes, love. It’s me,” he said in a thick British accent.
“I’ll be right down.”
Destiny blushed and ran down the hallway to get her purse. I was relieved; the topic of Damon’s leaving his wife upset me. I felt like such a bad human being. Part of me still yearned for his touch. Life was cruel.
Destiny reappeared, headed for the door, but paused. “Brooke, I’m not one to suggest that you become a home wrecker, but I don’t want to see you settle for Patrick as some sort of consolation prize. Didn’t you say that Damon and his wife are having problems? If she doesn’t appreciate him, or the fact that he saved her life, then she’s a coldhearted bitch and doesn’t deserve him anyway.”
I stared at Destiny, at a loss for words.
“I’m not suggesting that you carry on some affair behind her back. I’m telling you, you need to go to that man and confess how you really feel. Unless you do that, you’ll always wonder what could have been.” She sighed and held the door open, fingering the frame nervously. I could tell that, even though what she was saying made her uneasy, the words were coming straight from her heart and were meant to make me think more clearly. “I don’t want you to have any regrets. Yes, he married her, but that was before he ever laid eyes on you. Maybe he was simply loaned to her temporarily; maybe you were loaned to Patrick. I’ve known you since forever, and I can see right through your facade. You love Damon, and we both know that.”
Destiny left and I exhaled the breath that I’d been holding in the entire time she had been talking. A moment later, I tossed the magazine on the coffee table and rushed to the window in time to see Destiny getting into Wesley’s car. He was driving a Benz. Nice! I couldn’t get a great look at him but I could tell that he was handsome. They looked cute together. I was happy that she was opening her mind to the possibilities outside of Harold. At the end of the day, she would probably go back, like I did to Patrick.
Patrick! I had no idea what to do about him. He was expecting me at his place by midnight, the booty-call hour. Time after time, I was succumbing to his sexual advances, all the while fantasizing about Damon. I thought about what Destiny had said. No, I was definitely not a home wrecker, and I couldn’t open up to Damon about my true feelings. What if he did leave Carleigh for me? I would never have a clear conscience. If he and I were going to end up together, their marriage would have to end for a reason other than me. I felt horrible, like a person waiting on a heart transplant. For me to truly live, their marriage would have to die.
Damon
October 7, 2008
I’D never felt like I had the gift of discernment. I’d heard many people speak of it, particularly people from the South. How they could sense something about a person or a situation. How they could feel an event that was about to happen. That had never occurred with me … until the Tuesday morning when everything in my life changed.
I’d forgotten my briefcase in Carleigh’s car. We had ridden together on that Monday because we attended a play after dinner at the Warner Theater in Washington, D.C. She was still asleep, so I took her keys off the kitchen counter and went out to the garage to get it. I opened the passenger-side door and reached over to the backseat for my briefcase. Then I spotted it. A foil packet on the floor in the back, halfway tucked under the seat. It was like it had fallen from the driver’s seat and slipped down through the crack between the seat and the armrest, landing back there. I didn’t want to believe it. My eyes had to be playing tricks on me.
I took my briefcase and closed the passenger door. I was almost back in the house when I froze in my tracks. I had to go back and see it; there had to be an explanation. A reasonable explanation.
A few moments later, I was sitting beside Carleigh on the bed. She was sleeping soundly. We had made love the night before. It had been intense and we had made a connection—or so I thought.
Carleigh stirred in her sleep, then gradually opened her eyes. She must have sensed my presence. She turned her head slightly and saw that it was past nine on the alarm clock.
“Damon, you’re going to be late.”
I didn’t respond; just stared at her.
“Why are you looking at me like that? What’s wrong?”
“I was thinking. Maybe we should take a pregnancy test today.”
Carleigh giggled. “For what? My period’s not late.” She touched my hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll get pregnant soon enough. It’s going to take some time.”
“It’s going to take even longer if you’re still taking these.” I threw the empty birth control packet on the bed. Carleigh looked like she was about to faint. “Care to explain?”
I don’t know why I ever bothered asking such a silly question. I yearned for her to come up with something that made sense, but it was all going to be a lie.
“Where did you get that?”
“Oh, don’t answer my question with a question, Carleigh.” I stood up and started pacing the floor. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me, again.”
“That’s not mine! Where did you get it?”
Okay, I’ll play along! “The packet was in your car, on the back floor.”
“Oh …” Carleigh giggled. “You’re so silly, Damon. Those are old. I haven’t been taking birth control since we went on that Virginia getaway.”
“Really?” I glared into her eyes. “So they’ve been in your car ever since?”
“Yes, baby. They were probably crammed under the seat or something, fell out of my purse, and slipped out. I mean, think about it. How often are you in my car? I never look in my backseat, so those could have been there for a couple of years.”
“But I clean out your car, Carleigh. I detailed your car last week.”
She was speechless and struggling to think of another lie.
“I vacuumed and cleaned every inch of your car, last week!”
She lay back down and propped up a pillow so she could turn on her side. “You’re being ridiculous. I don’t have to listen to this nonsense. I am not on birth control. Maybe there’s something wrong with you. Ever thought of that? I might not be able to get pregnant because of you.”
I needed to hit something, but it wouldn’t be Carleigh. Instead, I punched a hole in the bedroom wall. That got her attention.
She leaped from the bed and stared at me. “What the fuck was that all about? Now we’ve got to fix it.”
“The wall can be fixed. This marriage can’t.”
She was breathing heavily as she continued glaring at me.
“You’ve told your last lie to me, Carleigh. Your last fuckin’ lie!”
I walked out of the bedroom and she followed me in her black silk teddy. “Damon, where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“Away from here! Away from you!” I yelled over my shoulder.
“You can’t walk out on me!”
She grabbed my prosthetic arm and swung me around. Then she acted repulsed that she had touched it.
“You still can’t deal with the fact that my arm is gone, can you?” She sighed and stared into my eyes, still breathing heavily. “It’s gone, Carleigh. I can’t get it back. But that doesn’t make me any less of a man. If anything, it makes me more of a man because I stood up for you. That doesn’t matter to you though. All you can see is my flaw. The perfect man is no more.”
“That’s not true, Damon.”
“Yes, it is true.” I leaned against the wall in the hallway and slid down to the floor, holding my head in my hands. “You’re shallow, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
She came and sat down beside me, trying to get me to look at her.
“Damon, we can work this out.”
“No, it can’t be worked out. Twice you’ve made the decision that I shouldn’t be a father. You’ve deceived me and I can’t trust you ever again.” I did look at her then. “You can’t even admit it now. We both know that you’ve still been taking birth control. Yet, you’re prepared to sit there and attempt to tell me bald-faced lies. What d
oes that say about our marriage, Carleigh?”
She didn’t say a word. She sat there shaking her head and fighting back tears.
“You can’t dictate my life, not like that. I want children. I’ve always wanted children and you know that. My mother has been waiting on a grandchild the entire time we’ve been married. I’m her only child, so you think it’s cool to deprive her of ever having that as well?”
“I’m sorry, Damon. I won’t take them anymore,” Carleigh whispered, as if that would make a difference. “Let’s go back to bed and make a baby right now. I can even go get some of those drugs so we can have twins. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t leave me.”
“Why shouldn’t I leave? Then you won’t have to be ashamed of me around your friends. Your mother can stop encouraging you to do better.” She drew in a deep breath. “Don’t play dumb. Even before I lost my arm, she never thought I was good enough for you. Now you can go find a man who’s worthy. Maybe your friend Arnold can pass the miserable old broad’s test.”
Carleigh had the audacity to get angry at me then. “Don’t talk about my mother like that!”
A lightbulb went off in my head. “Are you fucking him?”
“Fucking who?”
“Are you fucking Arnold?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Damon.”
I started laughing. Not sure why. Maybe it was easier than crying. I never thought that Carleigh would cheat on me, but after my feelings for Brooke, I now understood that anything was possible.
“What’s so funny?”
“I wanted to sleep with Brooke. I did. I wanted her, but I told her that we couldn’t be around each other anymore. That I had to be faithful to you, my wife.”
“You fucked her!” Carleigh exclaimed. “You’ve been cheating on me and now you’ve got the nerve to accuse me!”
“It’s amazing how I’ll say one thing and you’ll hear another. Like that time you came after me with that knife, after I outed Jordan’s scandalous ass. She tried to fuck me and you heard the complete opposite.” I stood up off the floor. “No, I didn’t make love to Brooke, but I wanted to. I didn’t because I respected our marriage vows and was determined to make things work.” I looked down at Carleigh. “Now I realize that I gave up the wrong woman.”