Sisters and Husbands (6 page)

The only things amiss in the bedroom were Kevin’s suits on the bed, and they wouldn’t explain the weird noises she’d heard.
She decided to do some sleuthing. It might have been something as innocent as Kevin straightening out his closet. She certainly
hoped so. But she needed to shake this nagging thought.

She entered the house from the side door, walked through the disarranged kitchen, and headed up the stairs to the bedroom.
Kevin was likely in the recreation room, watching a movie. She moved quickly to his closet and opened the door.

Her eyes scanned the large closet and finally focused on two black suitcases and a black leather duffel bag in a corner. Kevin
normally stored his luggage on the shelves at the top of the closet; they looked out of place there on the floor. She stepped
inside, lifted one of the bags, and was surprised to realize that it was not empty. She lifted the other two. Same thing.
All three bags were packed.

She stooped down and opened the duffel bag to find Kevin’s socks, underwear, and toiletries. She placed one of the suitcases
flat on the floor and flipped it open. It was packed with Kevin’s clothes—slacks, shirts, sweaters. She was about to open
the third bag when she heard a sound behind her. She turned to see Kevin standing in the doorway to his closet, a scowl on
his face.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked gruffly.

“You mean, what the hell are
you
doing?” she countered. “What is all this?” She gestured toward the bags.

“What the fuck does it look like?” he snapped.

She frowned. “Are you going on a trip?”

“You could say that. A permanent one.”

She was dumbfounded. Did he mean what she thought he meant? She was too afraid to ask, too afraid of the response she might
get.

“I’m leaving and I won’t be back,” he said pointedly, as if he sensed her reluctance to go there and wanted to get it all
out.

Evelyn stumbled from the closet and back into the bedroom. She didn’t need to hear this, not now. Not ever. Yes, they were
going through a rough patch. But leaving? How had it come to this? She faced him as he exited the closet. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m very serious. I’ve had it with all this, Evelyn.” He jerked an arm through the air, indicating the spacious master bedroom
and bath, with the matching designer bed linen and drapes, the soaking tub and the Kohler bath fixtures. “The kitchen remodeling—that’s
the last straw. I can’t deal with this crap anymore. Or I won’t.”

Evelyn stared at him. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This antimaterialistic fad he was going through—quitting
his job, giving away all this clothes, shaving his head—was one thing. Now he was about to walk out on her? On two and a half
decades of sharing their lives, with absolutely no warning whatsoever?

“You wanted all of this as much as I did until recently, Kevin,” she protested, struggling to keep her voice calm. “You seem
to forget that. Now all of a sudden you decide you don’t like it anymore, and you think you can just pack and split? That’s
not right.”

“What’s not right is this lifestyle.” He gritted his teeth. “Make more, want more, buy more. Trying to act white. That’s all
you fucking care about now, Evelyn. You didn’t used to be like this.
I
didn’t used to be like this. Sadly, this is what our lives have become.”

Evelyn watched in horror as he walked back into the closet, grabbed the two suitcases, and placed them on the floor in the
bedroom. He went to retrieve the duffel bag, and it was all she could do to keep from grabbing the suitcases and putting everything
back in the drawers and closet where it belonged.

“You’re leaving now?” she asked when he came back out. “Right this minute?”

He sighed. “I was going to tell you this tonight and leave later in the week, but I figure I might as well go now.”

She swallowed hard. “But… where will you stay?”

“I rented an apartment in College Park, but I can’t move in until Wednesday. I’ll just stay in a hotel until then.”

He hastily changed into a fresh white T-shirt and picked up all the bags, then paused and looked into her eyes. For a split
second Evelyn thought she recognized the old Kevin. The one who
saw
her when he looked at her. The one who listened to what she had to say when she spoke. The one who genuinely cared about
her feelings.

Then in an instant he had brushed past her without another word. She followed him. “Kevin, you can’t just walk out. This is
wrong.”

She paused and watched as he moved down the stairs. He obviously had no intention of listening to her. “Fine!” she yelled,
leaning over the banister. She was so tired, so weary of all the antagonism between them. “Go ahead, leave. Bastard! I don’t
give a damn!”

He crossed the foyer silently, and she grabbed the banister to catch her breath as he walked out and shut the door behind
him. She straightened her shoulders, pulled herself erect, and willed her breathing to slow down.
One, two, three,
she counted to herself.

Twenty minutes later, she realized that the sky had gone dark and that she was still gripping the banister so tightly her
fingers ached.

I
think you’re making a terrible mistake taking Otis back, Valerie,” Beverly said as they sat on the covered patio having lunch
together on Monday afternoon at Phillips seafood restaurant on the Baltimore Harbor. Valerie had delivered the news to Beverly
over the phone the previous night. After giving it a lot of thought she was going to give Otis another chance. Beverly couldn’t
believe what she was hearing, but she had resisted the urge to call her best friend stupid, dumb, an idiot, and a whole lot
more. Instead, she insisted that they meet face-to-face during their lunch breaks the following day.

Beverly had decided to drive to the restaurant, even though it was only a mile from her office at the
Baltimore Sun
to the harbor. Parking at the harbor wasn’t a huge problem as long as you were prepared to pay to park in a lot. And driving
would allow her more time to stay at the office and continue editing the feature article she was working on about the musicians
who would be appearing at the Merriweather Post Pavilion in Columbia, Maryland, for this summer’s concert series. Editing
the annual feature about the concert was one of Beverly’s favorites tasks at the
Sun
. The series always attracted some of the biggest names in music, such as Roberta Flack, Jill Scott, Sheryl Crow, and Duran
Duran, and this year would be no exception.

“You don’t need to act desperate,” Beverly added after the waitress placed a bowl of steamed littleneck clams in front of
her and a plate of crispy calamari in front of Valerie. Valerie was wearing a white cotton short-sleeved shirt, and Beverly
could detect the faint outline of a bruise on her friend’s upper arm where she had hit the wall when Otis shoved her. Valerie
was light-complexioned, and Beverly could tell that the bruise had looked much worse when it first happened. It was appalling
to think of her friend being hurt by the man in her life.

“I’m not acting,” Valerie said. “I’m forty-one years old and I’ve been single for more than twenty years. I
am
desperate.” Valerie had gotten pregnant and married—in that order—right out of high school, so she postponed college for
a couple of years. By the time Valerie and Beverly met at Hampton University, Valerie was divorced and living in Newport News,
Virginia, with her parents, who were helping her raise her baby daughter, Olivia. Although Valerie had done a good job with
Olivia, who had graduated from college and gotten married herself about a year ago, life as a single mom hadn’t left Valerie
with much time for a social life of her own. And a part of her resented that.

Valerie took a generous sip from her beer. “I’m so tired of being alone I don’t know what to do, and I ain’t ashamed to admit
it.”

“I don’t get it,” Beverly said. “You have a lot to offer.” Even if her friend was a little kooky and dressed like a hippie,
with long flowery skirts and cotton blouses, she had recently dyed her hair a striking jet black. She had a nice job as an
artist at a graphic design firm. “You’re attractive. You’re artsy. You’re fun to be with. I could go on and on. You don’t
have to settle for some asshole who smacks you around like this.” Beverly gestured toward the bruise on Valerie’s arm.

“How many times do I have to tell you that he did not hit me? Otis never hits me.” Valerie flicked her wrist as if to brush
the bruise aside. “This is nothing. It’s almost gone. And I know he didn’t mean it. He just got a little emotional. I was
needling him, so in a way it’s my—”

“Hey,” Beverly said, snapping her fingers in Valerie’s face. “Cut the bull. This is me. He shoved you and you fell. Your arm
is black and blue. That’s violence, in my book.”

Valerie slapped Beverly’s hand out of her face. “He didn’t really hurt me. And he apologized yesterday.”

“If he didn’t do anything wrong, what’s he apologizing for? Huh? You’re making excuses, girlfriend, and you know it. Even
before this happened, I didn’t think Otis was right for you.”

“Aha, now we get down to the real deal. You just don’t like him. Well, why not? He’s always been nice to you. He has a good
job as a programmer.”

“So what? A lot of men have good jobs,” Beverly countered. “That doesn’t automatically mean that they’re good men.”

“Oh? Where are all these gainfully employed men hiding, Bev? Please share. ’Cause I’m having a real hard time finding ’em.
That’s why when I get one, I want to hold on.”

“I admit it’s not easy to find them. I never said it was easy. But they’re out there. I got one.”

“Yeah, thanks to me.”

Beverly frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m the one who introduced you two. Or did you manage to forget that?”

Beverly nodded, surprised at the bitter tone in her friend’s voice. She was only trying to help. “No, of course I remember.”

“You’re one of the lucky few, Bev. You got yourself someone who looks good, works good, and
is
good. And I admit, I’m jealous at times.”

“Don’t be, Valerie. Just find
yourself
someone who looks good, works good, and is good. Otis always struck me as the chauvinistic type. You know, cocky, arrogant,
condescending. The ‘you’re my woman, you better behave yourself’ type.”

“He’s forty-eight years old and he can be a little hot-tempered and old-fashioned at times,” Valerie said. “But he’s really
sweet to me when he wants to be.”

“So was O. J. Simpson to Nicole, no doubt.”

“Ouch! That’s not fair. Otis is working on his temper.”

Beverly scoffed.

“And our charts are beautifully aligned, you know. Our moons are really compatible. There are a few problem areas, mainly
with Venus, but at least I know about them and I can deal with them. I can make this work, Bev, trust me. I just need to be
patient with him.” Valerie leaned in close to Beverly. “And did I ever mention that he’s hot as hell in bed?”

“Only about a hundred thousand times since you met him.”

Valerie giggled. “I can’t help it. There’s something about a dark-complexioned brother with a shaved head that gets me going.
I cannot lie. I get wet just thinking about him going down.”

“Valerie, please. I’m trying to eat here.”

Valerie laughed and put her finger to her lip. “Okay, I’ll shut up.” She picked up her beer glass and drained it.

It upset Beverly to realize that her best friend was so blind to this dude. Beverly was convinced that he was bad news, a
poster child for dangerous men who mess up women. “I just don’t understand why all it takes is a little sweet talk and some
good loving from a brother to turn us into pitiful pushovers.”

Maybe she had become too self-righteous now that she had a good man, Beverly thought. She could definitely remember when she
wasn’t much more clear-eyed or levelheaded about men herself. Still, she wanted so much more for her best friend than what
her friend seemed willing to settle for. Beverly shook her head with sadness.

Valerie reached across the table and patted Beverly’s hand. “I know you have my best interests at heart. But you don’t have
to worry about me. I can take care of myself. I told Otis that if he touches me in anger one more time, that’s it. I’ll find
me somebody else.”

Beverly smiled thinly. “I hope you really mean that. I don’t want it to come to that, but if it does and you don’t walk away,
I’m going to kick your ass myself.”

“Deal.” They slapped a high five across the table. “How is Julian these days? I haven’t talked to him since he left last month
to take that new job at the video game design firm out there near Baltimore.”

Beverly smiled broadly for the first time that afternoon. “He’s good. He loves it there. We’re good. What can I say?”

“Say a little prayer of thanks that your best friend introduced you to him. The brother is one in a thousand—heck, one in
a million.”

“Amen. We definitely agree on that much.”

“So he makes video games now?”

Beverly nodded. “He animates the scenes and characters in the games.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“He works his butt off, but he’s happy there. And when a man is happy he makes his woman happy.”

“You Jordan women definitely got it going on in the man department,” Valerie said. “You and Julian, Evelyn and Kevin. It even
looks like Charmaine finally got her act together too.”

“Tyrone seems good for Charmaine,” Beverly said. “I’m so happy for her. It took her a while to get it right, but she did.
And it might take you some time, but you will if you don’t…”

Valerie held her hand up and Beverly paused. “Hey, knock it off, okay?” Valerie said. “I’m perfectly happy with the man I’ve
got, thank you.”

Beverly made a motion and zipped her lips shut. “Fine.” She wasn’t going to push anymore. But obviously it didn’t take much
to make Valerie happy, Beverly thought sadly, if she was content with Otis. Still, she would keep those thoughts to herself
for now. Valerie had made up her mind, and no amount of talk was going to change it.