Ex-Terminator Life After Marriage (5 page)

“I
’ve got my own successful catering business, I ride around in a bad Jag, and I have a forty-two-hundred-square-foot home overlooking a beautiful lake. Does it look like I need a man?”

“You go, girl,” Claudette said, while Ashley and Rachel traded glances.

“So the question becomes, what am I doing here? The answer is simple. I am here to help you divas—and this one pitiful man—move on with your lives.”

The group erupted in laughter.

“If you don’t need a man,” Sylvia interjected, “why is it that every time I look around, you’ve got one either strapped to your bosom or sniffing around you like bees to honey?”

“You answered the question, honey. It’s the nectar, and you can interpret that any way you like.”

“That’s not a hard one to figure out,” Claudette said.

“Don’t hate, Claudette.”

Mona paused, blinked her eyes and shifted her body several times. She began to rock back and forth on her heels, as if contemplating what was to come next.

“When I was with Timothy, we were so young. Well, I was nineteen and Timothy was twenty-three. Anyway, I grew up in a wealthy family, sheltered by two older brothers and two older sisters. They treated me like a porcelain doll—too fragile to be touched. I had to be protected from all the elements—and that included the boys who tried to date me. So when I met Timothy that first year in college, I fell hard because I had been forbidden all my life to experience what it was like to have real male friendship.

“Timothy was from Trinidad-Tobago. He was a little dark for my liking, but his speech was smooth as butter. I spent a lot of time watching those lips and listening to the tone of his voice without ever really paying attention to what he was saying. I’m sure I fell in love with his rich, sexy voice that played out in Dolby stereo with lots and lots of bass that pulsated through every vein in my body. Oh yeah, I had died and gone to Heaven because he was definitely the man of my dreams.

“I wanted to take Timothy home to meet my family, but being from an old Creole family, I knew they would have issues with his color and possibly his age. Plus, Papa wasn’t about to let anybody into the family that didn’t bring a fortune with them.”

Mona lifted a handful of her dreads off her back and let them fall before continuing.

“My sisters and brothers all have lucrative careers and married money. That suited Mommy and Papa both. When I told them that I was interested in the culinary arts they frowned at me. Papa said he wasn’t wasting any money on me going to school to learn how to cook. He told me to take a good look at my siblings and what their lives had become because they understood honor among family.

“I was not like them. Papa could never understand that. They didn’t like Timothy either. Papa swore up and down that Timothy crossed the gulf in a banana boat, got a free ride to Xavier and preyed on rich girls so that he wouldn’t have to go back to live in a thatched-roof mud hut. Papa never gave me the opportunity to tell him that Timothy came from class and had a good upbringing; he judged the outward appearance. That’s when I made up my mind that I was not going to be ruled by Jean Claude DePaul Baptiste’s iron hand. After I received my business degree, Timothy and I eloped to the chagrin of my fine, upstanding family.

“Timothy and I left New Orleans for Atlanta. Atlanta was a thriving city for blacks when we came here in the late eighties. My husband was going to medical school to become a surgeon specializing in obstetrics and I was studying at the Le Cordon Bleu College of Culinary Arts. Visions of becoming a renowned chef pulsated through me. Life seemed new and fresh for both of us. I didn’t need Papa’s money. My man and I were going to make it on our own.

“I remember the day that turned out to be a turning point in our lives. I was still in culinary school, and I became very ill. At first I thought I might have inhaled too much of the five or ten spices that I was using to marinate a pork shoulder. It could have been the smell of the fresh meat. At any rate, it felt like someone was dancing on my stomach muscles, twisting them every which way until I was unable to contain the contents inside of me. I sought refuge and comfort at the porcelain bowl in a back restroom used by all the students. A friend of mine named Suzette found me in a heap on the bathroom floor and tried to pull me out of the stall so I could get some air. Sweat poured down my face, and when I opened my eyes, Suzette was staring at me with a strange look on her face.

“‘Mona, are you pregnant?’” she asked.

“I gasped. Children were the farthest thing from my mind at the time. I was in the middle of my first year in culinary school, and whether I spoke to my family or not, I wanted to show them that I would not be just some ordinary cook, holding down the eggs and bacon in a greasy spoon. No, I would be a chef in the most prestigious restaurant in Atlanta.

“A baby. What was I going to do with a baby? Timothy was not overjoyed but didn’t quite dismiss the fact that a baby would be a part of our lives; after all, babies would soon be his world day in and day out. A baby would disrupt our time together, especially since we would be in very demanding professions once our careers began to take off. What little time we would have had for ourselves would now have to be shared three ways.

“I began to daydream about the growing embryo inside me. Somehow, the idea of bringing a new life into the world struck me as my greatest invention. It would be better than a crepe Suzette or chicken Florentine. This new formation, flesh of my flesh, would take on the likeness of Timothy and me.

“As the weeks went by, I would rub my tummy every hour on the hour, fantasizing how labor would be and what my baby would look like. Although there was no visible sign on the outside that a baby was growing inside of me, I knew. I could feel my breasts preparing for the glorious day. I would cup them and rub my nipples as I stared into the room that would soon be turned into a nursery.”

Marvin fidgeted in his seat.

“After awhile, Timothy seemed to take to the idea, often replacing my hands with his as I rubbed my stomach. We would talk about who the baby would look like—him or me. Then Timothy began to distance himself. I knew that Atlanta hadn’t grown on him in the way it seemed to embrace me, but I figured in time everything would be all right.

“Timothy spent more time away from home. We were still newlyweds, and I hoped that we could spend as much quality time together as possible before the baby came. Morning sickness was almost nonexistent in my pregnancy except for the day I puked in the toilet and nearly fainted. I always felt like a million dollars.

“Culinary school was going well, but my marriage was another matter. Timothy stopped coming home, stating that he needed some quiet time to study. Our home was modest, but there was enough space that privacy was his for the asking.

“I was still in my first trimester, and one night—it was a Friday—I began to have some minor cramping. I needed my husband. I couldn’t call my parents, since we were estranged. I called Timothy’s cell phone and couldn’t get him, so I called the school. They told me that he had gone to New Orleans—and I was supposed to be with him! I couldn’t believe my ears. I dropped the phone and began to cry. Somehow what was supposed to be my little miracle also disappeared. I lost the baby. You may call me cold, but I stripped that life off, strutted my stuff and never looked back.

“No, I never looked for him or tried to call him until he received a piece of mail at the house from Immigration. I felt I had every right to know what was in the envelope. My eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. He had applied for a green card because of his marriage to me. Can you believe that?

“I was pissing mad and for the first time in a month I called my nonexistent husband on his cell. A woman answered the phone. She had a distinct Caribbean accent. It could have been his mother. My breathing stopped for only a second, and when I got up enough nerve, I spoke.

“‘May I speak to Timothy?’

“‘Who may I ask is calling?’ the woman asked.

“‘It’s his wife,’ I replied briskly.

“There was silence; then the voice, now shaky, spoke. ‘I don’t know who you are or what kind of trick you’re trying to play. I’m his wife. Timothy and I have been married for ten years.’

“In my best Caribbean accent I told her, ‘Tell Timothy that his other wife lost their baby and he has papers here from Immigration.’

“The woman hung up the phone. I didn’t blame her…in fact I had no beef with her at all. Timothy did her a disservice, but he was my husband, too, and I was going to get to the bottom of this. I didn’t turn my back on my mother and father’s advice about marrying Timothy for it to come to this so soon after we were married.

“Oh, Timothy called, hot as molten lava from an active volcano. There was nothing that man could say to me. Not once did he say he was sorry. I turned him in to Immigration and if they deported his ass, I don’t know because that life was over. I began to live life for me, Jacqueline Monique Baptiste. I loved Atlanta, and I made it home. Men have come and gone, but I’m happy with Mona just the way she is. I didn’t spend time crying about spilled milk. I took a rag, wiped it up, threw it in the trash can and moved on to greener pastures. I haven’t looked back since. And life has been good.

“So, sister Mona is here to help you get over the hurdles and pass on some survival skills. These little meetings are fine, but I say don’t take no stuff and get whatever is coming to you. I’m finished and I don’t need a group hug.

“Whew!” Mona sighed as she looked around at the group. “Glad I got that off my chest. Didn’t intend to go there, but there’s something about purging your soul…Ex-Files, if that’s what you like to call it.”

M
arvin looked around at the ladies. Everyone was still caught up in Mona’s Academy Award-winning performance. Her little act didn’t get past him. Deep inside that exterior was a woman who wanted to be loved and had something to give in return. Mona painted over her loneliness with coats of self-confidence and expensive things to show the world that she had arrived and couldn’t be touched. Marvin remembered how she’d thrown herself at him at one of the events she’d catered for his company, even though she knew he was married. Mona was very attractive but not the kind of woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

He coughed into his hands.

“It’s time for our fine brother to share his files.” Mona laughed.

Marvin felt like daggers were penetrating his whole body as the ladies stared back at him. It might have been easy for Mona to stand up there and rattle on about the demise of her marriage, but Marvin truly loved his wife.

“Ladies, this is more difficult than I imagined. I didn’t know I would be put on the spot and have to divulge my pain.”

“You don’t have to,” Sylvia cut in. “Share what you want us to know. You may only want to tell us why you chose to come here tonight.”

“I appreciate that, Sylvia, but I think I want to share with someone how I’ve been feeling these last few months. I know we men are supposed to be macho, but I’m a real man with real feelings, and I’ve been hurt badly.”

Marvin looked out and latched onto Rachel’s eyes. She looked away fast as if she had been caught spying into his soul and was afraid of the repercussion. Marvin panned among the other ladies, wrung his hands, and dropped his head slowly without uttering a word. He looked up again and saw as much pain on the ladies’ faces as he felt in his heart.

“If you don’t feel like saying anything…,” Sylvia said.

“No, I do. It’s just hard getting started.”

“Just pick a place in your life that was good and start there,” Sylvia suggested.

His lips and mustache moved, but nothing came forth. Marvin beat his hand with his fist and sighed.

“Maybe if I take my coat off I’ll be able to breathe.” Marvin laughed uneasily. He took off his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. His muscles appeared to bulge through the soft fibers of his blue shirt.

“Take it off, take it all off,” Claudette screamed.

There were short bouts of laughter.

“I’m a simple brother. What you see is what you get.”

“I like,” Claudette hollered out. Rachel rolled her eyes at her.

“So uncouth,” Mona said, shaking her head.

“I had a good upbringing—wonderful parents and three sisters who doted on their brother. My cousin, Harold, was my best friend and business partner,” Marvin said.

“I had three aspirations in life. They were to go to college, own my own business, and find the one woman in the world that would love me as much as I loved her, who would share my dreams and visions for the future while I acknowledged hers, and have a family.

“After working for several software companies, I branched out and started my own: Thomas Technology Solutions. I have been very fortunate, and I don’t apologize for saying I owe everything that I am and that I have to God.”

“All right, now. That’s what I’m talking about,” Rachel said. “Me and my God.”

Marvin studied Rachel for a moment before continuing with his story.

“I don’t want you ladies to get any ideas or think I’ve got my nose up in the air. I suddenly feel like sharing how good God has been to me. Not only did He bless me with the opportunity to start my own firm, but within a two-year time frame, I was able to enjoy a healthy income of $500,000 a year and maintain a portfolio of stocks, bonds, and mutual funds.”

“Every girl needs to know that her man has bank,” Claudette interjected. “I ain’t mad at ya. Wouldn’t mind sharing it with you.” She batted her eyes. “Sorry for the interruption.”

Marvin smirked. He didn’t like loud-talking women. Claudette was the kind that would have your business on the gossip net, telling every head she shampooed what her man had done for her. He shook her image from his mind.

“After my business took off and I was in the best financial position I had been in a long time,” Marvin began, “I knew that my life was not complete. I was a hardworking Black man whose ultimate goal was to reach the pinnacle of his career but I needed that someone to share it with. I hadn’t dated much and wasn’t sure if my old lines were still twenty-first century.”

Rachel smiled.

“I met my ex-wife, Denise, while on a speaking engagement in New York. When I laid eyes on her, I immediately fell in love. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of that girl. We corresponded for a month or two, but found that we couldn’t be away from each other. After a six-month romance, I proposed.

“Denise is very attractive, sophisticated—and very high maintenance. She has her hair, nails and feet done every week. Even after I married her, I showered her with gifts from the best stores, wined and dined her at the most fabulous restaurants, bought her the most elegant home in the most upscale neighborhood. But what I really wanted was children, and every time I approached Denise about it, she kept putting me on hold…her career, her figure…”

“I understand that sister,” Mona said, cutting in on Marvin’s train of thought.

“It would have been all right, Mona, if my wife hadn’t assured me before we got married that she wanted children as much as I did and that she would be more than happy to be our baby’s mother. I’m not a nag, and I didn’t want to start being one. I had given my heart and soul to this woman…not just to please her but because I wanted to give her the best of me.

“My sisters told me I was a fool to lavish her with everything she wanted and everything I wanted her to have. I’m sure Denise came to expect these things, but she was always so appreciative.

“She missed her friends in New York, though, and the fast-paced life she’d led. She would often fly home to see her family and friends, and while I didn’t begrudge her that, I think I was a little jealous. A couple of times I went with her to New York, as I often made presentations there. Sometimes my business partner, my cousin Harold, would go and that way I had someone looking out for my best interests.

“Three years passed and no baby. Denise became involved with a lot of the high-society folks in Atlanta and became an event planner for a lot of big names—that’s how I met Mona: She catered a big shindig I had a year-and-a-half ago when my company reached another milestone on our way to Fortune 500 status. Denise was the perfect wife in every way—except for not wanting to disfigure her body for the only gift I ever asked for.

“About three months after the party, Denise announced that she would be in and out of New York to plan this big celebration for her family reunion because her grandmother was going to be eighty years old. It was a bad time for me to go because I was in negotiations for two lucrative contracts with some major players. Plus, I also had a large contract pending with a major New York corporation about the time Denise was heading that way. I really wanted to be part of closing that deal, but I sent Harold instead since there was no possible way for me to be in two places at one time. Harold had negotiated many contracts for us, so I was very confident in his work.

“I received a call late on a Thursday afternoon to say that the deal was on but they needed my signature as well as Harold’s and they wanted the ink to be dry by Friday. I had no other recourse than to catch a flight to New York.

“I flew in and signed the papers before ten a.m. I hadn’t called Denise yet, but I was sure she was staying at our town house on Long Island. I rented a car and set off to find my wife.

“I arrived at the town house; the parking lot was deserted—it was almost the middle of the day, and I figured everyone was probably at work. I was sure Denise was catching her breath before all the festivities that were to take place that evening.

“The blinds were still drawn when I entered the town house, even though I thought Denise would be up by now. I dropped my suitcase and briefcase on the floor in the living room and proceeded up the stairs. I walked into the bedroom and could hear the shower running, and I licked my lips in anticipation of jumping in with Denise and kissing her all over. Just as I was about to put my hand on the knob, the door opened and out walked Harold naked as a jaybird, drying his head with a towel.”

“No!” Mona shrieked. The others gasped.

“You should have seen the look on my former business partner’s face.
Shock
wasn’t the word. It was
scared to death
. His whole body turned blue-black from fear. It was disgusting to see him that way. I was so angry, if I had a knife I would have done a Lorena Bobbitt on him.

“But Harold wasn’t the person I came to see. I marched into that bathroom as Denise came out calling Harold’s name. I’m not a violent man—‘God-fearing’ is what my church members say about me. But that was the first time I had hate for Denise—pure, unadulterated hate. I asked her why. Why with Harold? I had given her the world. I never complained about a thing even though there were some things I should have stood my ground about. I loved this woman, and now she had desecrated our marriage, desecrated the vows we made before God and man. I felt as if I was in the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve. I caught both of them in their nakedness. And she claimed she was planning a feast for her family. Yes, she was making a spread all right, but it was her…her…her legs that she was spreading.”

Marvin’s body began to convulse and he began to cry. “I loved my wife. I was willing to do anything for her. All I wanted was the perfect family,” he wailed. His chest heaved in and out while he gasped for breath.

“Enough,” Sylvia sighed. She went to Marvin and held him and began to cry, too. Soon there wasn’t a dry eye in the place.