Carleigh rolled her eyes. “Yes, master. I was joking. I love that dick; the way it fits perfectly inside of me. Ain’t no other woman getting that; now or ever.”
“Is that all I am to you? A piece of meat?”
“Oh, Damon, stop being overdramatic.”
I was determined not to allow the weekend to be ruined. I reached over and took her free hand while she put another forkful of food in her mouth.
“Honey, I’m glad we were able to escape. It means so much to me; you and I, alone.” I gazed lovingly into her eyes. “Even though we live by ourselves and don’t have kids yet, it’s still difficult to carve out moments like this … like last night … when we’re so busy dealing with the daily grind.”
Carleigh took a sip of her orange juice. “Damon, you’re the best husband any woman could ever ask for. Sometimes it might seem like I don’t recognize that, but I do. I’m trying to work through all the emotional baggage that I’m boggled down with. I really am.”
“I’m not any of the dudes from your past. I married you. Doesn’t that prove anything?”
“It proves everything!” Carleigh lifted my hand to her mouth and kissed my knuckles. “Lately, things have been crazy, with the mortgage crisis, and you trying to get that website going.”
I cringed a little when she said “that website.” Carleigh must have felt it because she grasped my hand tighter. “I don’t mean anything negative by that, but, it does seem like you’re trying to reinvent the wheel. Those other sites have millions of members. There’s no way you can possibly catch up.”
“I’m not trying to catch up. I’m only trying to get my piece of the American pie. From childhood, I’ve always wanted to run my own business. I didn’t know in what kind of industry for sure, but I was never cut out to take orders.”
“I know that, baby. I’m the same way. That’s why I went into real estate. Picture me trying to pull a nine-to-five in some stuffy office.”
I could see the regret on her face by the time the last word escaped her lips. I was working a nine-to-five.
“So why is it okay for you to be free from the shackles of corporate America, but for me to be trapped there?”
Carleigh let my hand drop out of hers. After an uncomfortable few seconds, she giggled. “Look at us. I may have a lack of restrictions, but, shit, real estate is flushing down the toilet. You’re making over a hundred grand a year, but you’re not happy.”
I chuckled. “It seems like we need to reassess some things, make some changes, so we can be happy … again.”
The insinuation hung in the air like fog. Carleigh was no dummy. “Are you saying that you’re not happy with me? I was talking about your job!”
“I’m saying that happiness is defined by many things. I feel like outside influences are affecting what we have together. You feel me?”
She bit her bottom lip seductively. “Well, didn’t you enjoy last night?”
“Every second of it,” I responded without hesitation, “but sex is only a temporary fix and not a cure.”
I felt Carleigh’s bare foot—she must have slipped it out of her sandal—rubbing up against my crotch underneath the table. I glanced around to see if anyone was looking.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “They can’t see anything through the tablecloth.”
I felt myself getting hard. Carleigh always had that effect on me.
“I wouldn’t mind a temporary fix right now,” she said suggestively, digging her toes into my balls and moving them clockwise.
“Let’s head back to the room.” I used my hand and pushed her foot off me. “I don’t want to have to walk out of here with a hard-on.”
“Too late for that.” Carleigh laughed. “There are only two things that will tame that snake, now that it’s awake. My mouth or my pussy; or a little of both.”
“Both sound good. Let me carry your tote bag.”
“You? The ultimate alpha male, carrying a tote bag?”
I grinned. “Oh, so now you’ve got jokes.”
“Okay, you can carry the bag, but only on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“We don’t go back to the room.”
“Then where do we go?” I wondered.
Carleigh got up, handed me her bag, then started walking toward the door. I had no idea what she was up to, but I hoped it was something rocking-chair memories were made of.
We ended up by a waterfall. The view was spectacular, both of the mountains and of Carleigh. The way the sun shone down on her hair and skin was like a prize-winning photograph.
I sat down on some rocks near the bottom of the falls as Carleigh slipped off her sandals and kicked around in the water like a little girl. She giggled and hopped as she stepped on rough rocks and pounced around, her breasts jiggling in her top.
She stopped and asked me out of the blue,“What?”
“Huh?”
“What are you thinking about over there?”
I grinned. “The good times, all the ones we’ve had and all the ones yet to come.”
“You want a baby, don’t you?”
“Wow! Where did that come from?”
I stood up, took off my shoes, and walked toward her.
“Where did it come from?” I asked again once I reached her.
She placed her hands on my chest and leaned into me. “You keep hinting that you’re not happy.”
“No, I don’t.” I wrapped my arms around her. “We’re both dealing with some things, but that’s what marriage is about … dealing with things together.”
“I figured that a baby might bring some joy into our lives.”
“Carleigh, when it’s time for us to be blessed with a child, God will handle that. It’s not like we’ve been using protection. What’s for us will happen. Until then, it’s me and you.”
Carleigh started trembling, even though it was in the nineties. It was bad nerves. I knew the symptom well.
I gently pushed her back a little and looked down into her eyes. “What is it?”
Carleigh seemed like she was fighting back tears. “I wanted us to have some time together before we started a family.”
“And we’ve had four wonderful years. I’m in no rush, baby. It’ll happen.”
“What if I told you that I’ve kind of prevented it from happening?”
“Prevented it how?”
She bit her bottom lip and moved away from me.
“Prevented it how?!” I yelled, as all sorts of things rushed through my head.
“I’m on the pill,” she whispered.
I shook my head. “I must be hearing things. It sounded like you said that you’re on the pill.”
“I’ve always been on the pill.”
“You’ve been taking birth control pills all this time and you never thought to discuss it with me?”
“I …”
“You what?!”
“I was going to tell you. When the time was right.”
“So now is the right time?” I headed back to the rocks where I’d been sitting before, to get my shoes.
“Where are you going?” Carleigh called behind me.
“Away from you!”
Before I knew it, she was behind me, pulling on my shirt. “Please, Damon, let’s talk about this.”
I turned and glared at her. “What’s there to talk about? Our marriage has been based on a lie, and not a little one. Children, Carleigh. You decided on your own to control when we could have children. My mother has been asking me when we were going to give her a grandchild. My friends have been asking.”
“I know that,” she said, lowering her head. “I made a mistake.”
“A mistake is when you forget to turn off the faucet and the tub overflows. A mistake is when you take machine-washable clothes to the dry cleaner’s. A mistake is when you spill grape juice on the carpet. Playing with my emotions is not a mistake.”
A flood of tears was streaming down Carleigh’s cheeks by that time. ?
??Please forgive me, Damon. I love you. You know that I love you. We can work this out.”
Most men would have walked away and left her standing there. Most men would have cursed her and banished her to burn in hell for eternity. But I was not most men. I was one of the last good ones.
“Carleigh, for the life of me, I don’t understand why you’d do this. I’ve never given you any reason to feel like you have to keep secrets from me. If you didn’t want to have children yet, you should’ve told me.”
“You’re right, and it’s been balled up inside me like a knot all this time. I’ve been trying to find a way.”
“Why didn’t you stop taking the pills?”
She fell silent. We both realized that it was a logical question.
“If you had stopped,” I said, “there would be no reason to tell me now.”
“I’m going to stop … right now … today. I hadn’t planned to tell you, but I had to. I do need to know if you really want a child though. Do you?”
“Of course I want kids.”
“But the real estate market is shitty and you’re trying to get that site up and running. Don’t you think we should be more financially stable first?”
“We’re not destitute, Carleigh.” I waved my hands around at the picturesque surroundings. “Look at where we are—at a resort. If we can afford a weekend here, we can afford a child. I make a decent living.”
“But you’re not happy.”
“You keep saying that I’m not happy. How can you determine how I feel?”
“It’s written all over your face, Damon!”
As I analyzed her words, I wondered if she could be right. Was it possible for a man to have so much and still not be content?
Carleigh fell down on her knees in the water and placed her hands over her face, trying to hide her shame. She was like a broken doll, and I had to put her back together, which meant keeping my own emotions in check.
I knelt down and picked her up, carrying her to the grass. I laid her down and she took me off guard by pulling me on top of her and burying her tongue in my mouth. Her kiss was intense, needy. I had to meet her needs. She was my wife … for life.
We made love in the grass, beside the waterfall, that day in the mountains. It was the closest we had been in years. We tossed around naked in the grass, covered by pollen and insects. Nothing mattered.
Then we walked hand in hand into the waterfall and made love again, standing up against the rocks as the water cascaded down our bodies.
Brooke
August 10, 2007
SO how are things going?” Destiny asked as we shared the huge chocolate-chip-brownie dessert at Red Lobster in New Carrollton, Maryland. “You and Patrick still involved in your passive-aggressive kind of love?”
“Very funny. I’ve been giving you daily updates,” I replied, shoving another spoonful of fudge and vanilla ice cream from the top into my mouth while Destiny tackled the brownie itself.
“Exactly! Every day when you call, it’s something new.” She paused. “By the way, thanks for keeping your promise to me thus far.”
“It hasn’t been easy, but I’m trying.”
“I’m glad you didn’t kill Mrs. Sterling that day she showed up at your crib. That was some soap-opera-meets-Jerry-Springer-type shit right there.”
“Hey, don’t knock my Jerry. He deserves an Emmy.” We both laughed. “Patrick’s mother is fortunate that I’m not a violent person.”
Destiny gave me a serious stare. “Have you ever thought about hurting Patrick? Honestly.”
“What woman hasn’t contemplated killing her man at one point or another? I’m normal.”
“I have to admit that I’ve lain in bed next to Harold quite a few nights, wondering what he would look like with a bloody stub in place of his dick. I’ve even thought about using his balls as tea bags. Wonder what that shit would taste like.”
“You are sick!” I shook my head at her, then giggled. “Okay, here’s my honest answer. Yes, I’ve thought about it, but not since early July. Before then, I was having constant flights of the imagination involving him and various harmful devices. I hated having sex with him because of the way he would talk down to me about my weight.”
Destiny looked at the dessert. “I confess that I’m not trying to lose, but are you?”
“I am, but sweets and fats make me feel better. I’ve only been to the gym once or twice since I met you there. I guess my diet is starting tomorrow, too.”
She giggled. “I’m happy being me, and if Harold doesn’t like it, he can move the fuck on.”
“Harold doesn’t harp on your weight. Not like Patrick does with me.”
“Harold wants me to break his ass off with great sex. As long as I’m doing that, he doesn’t care if I’m as big as his whole damn house.”
“So that’s why you don’t care about your size?”
“Oh, I care, but not because of what he thinks. I care because of health reasons.”
“That’s my main thing, too. I have a coworker who was recently diagnosed with all kinds of ailments, and she’s not even thirtyfive yet.”
“I’ll bet she’s had a rough life.”
“Yes, she has.”
“Thank goodness we both come from decent families.”
“Not according to Mrs. Sterling.”
Destiny and I had been raised together in Northwest, D.C. Her father was an electrician and my father a plumber, which meant that neither family had to pay for those types of bills. Our parents were the best of friends—extremely close. Her parents still lived in the same home, but mine moved into an apartment after Daddy fell on hard times for a year or two and they couldn’t keep up with the mortgage payments.
Mama was heartbroken when we had to move. My brother, Jacob, who was three years older than me, enlisted in the navy because he didn’t want to encumber them with additional bills for college tuition. He occasionally wired money to help out but pretty much lived in his own world. His one serious relationship ended short of marriage. Now he was playing the field, for all we could tell. Every time he called either my parents or me, he was vague and avoided discussing women altogether.
“Mrs. Sterling needs to ride back out on the broomstick she flew in on,” Destiny said.
I laughed. “From your mouth to God’s ears.”
“How are your parents?”
“They’re great. I’m going by there for dinner.”
“After this big-ass lunch?”
“I know, shame on me,” I said. “I’ll bet Mama is going to cook up a storm, too. It’s Friday.”
“If she makes any of those collard greens, potato salad, or bread pudding, let me know. I’m coming through.”
“After this big-ass lunch?” I said jokingly, repeating her words.
Destiny smacked her lips and waved our waitress over to get the check. “I can’t believe they gave you a day off from that diner.”
“If they legally didn’t have to, they wouldn’t.”
“Why don’t you work for Patrick in some capacity? I’m sure he can hook you up with an administrative position at his firm. He’s a partner and—”
“I will not do that. I won’t be that dependent on him. Even though I live with him and, technically, he supports me, I pay my basic outside bills. I’m going to start searching for another job. I’m not dumb.”
“I never said you were, Brooke. You’re the smartest chick I know.”
“I fucked up in college and I don’t have anyone to blame but myself. I had a full academic scholarship and blew it on partying and trying to please a man who meant me no damn good.”
“Geesh, let’s not conjure him up. I want to be able to keep my food down,” Destiny said.
“I agree. Let’s leave that past in the past … for good.”
After dinner with my parents, I decided to drive past Patrick’s firm. He told me that he would be working late and that’s why he couldn’t come with me. Mama was disappointed. She hadn’t cook
ed the collard greens, potato salad, and bread pudding Destiny had craved, but she had put her foot into what she did fix. We had pot roast with vegetables and gravy, egg noodles, and chopped salad. She made a homemade apple pie for dessert. I was determined to hit the gym the next day.
When I was less than a block from the front of the firm, I spotted Patrick’s Bentley pulling out of the underground garage. I started to blow my horn, but decided it was pointless. We were both on our way home so I would see him there. I needed gas and planned to stop at the Exxon closer to home. Trailing behind him about a quarter of a mile, I debated whether to call him on his cell to tell him to stop so he could pump the gas for me. It was nighttime and I was always apprehensive about doing it after dark. My finger was on the talk button to speed-dial him when he turned right onto Sixteenth Street, headed toward Maryland. He should have kept going and made a left onto South Capitol Street.
I had this instant pain in my stomach, alerting me that something was off-kilter. Where the fuck is he going? I asked myself.
Ten minutes later, Patrick turned off onto one of the streets in an upscale area of Washington known as the Gold Coast. I cut my lights and continued to follow him down the narrow, dark street. He pulled into the driveway of a majestic home at the end of the street, right next to the dead end sign. The word dead jumped out at me because if he was going to see some other bitch, he was going to be one dead motherfucker.
I sat there, about five houses away, with my lights and engine off, as Patrick got out of the car, locked it, and headed to the side door of the house. Instead of knocking, he took a set of keys out of his suit pocket and unlocked the door. I was weak. This shit was not happening.
Mrs. Sterling’s words flooded through my head. She had made an outlandish comment when I said that I shared Patrick’s bed with him every night. She had said, “One of his beds, dear. One of his beds.”
“I know this bastard does not have another house!” I screamed into the steering wheel of my Toyota Corolla. “What the fuck?!”
I reached for my cell phone and started to call him to curse him out, but I stopped. I dialed Destiny, but she didn’t pick up; it went right to voice mail. I was hyperventilating as I said, “This is Brooke. We saw each other earlier today so I don’t owe you a daily phone call, but I need to talk. Call me when you get this message.” I paused, sucked in a deep breath, then added, “Oh, if something should happen to me … any something … I want you to know that you’ve been a wonderful friend to me and I love you.”