Taste of Reality (4 page)

“First of all, you shouldn’t even be thinking about getting a divorce. You should look at your marriage as something permanent. Everybody has problems in their relationships, but nothing is too hard to work out.”

Monica did this all the time. She saw everything as a fairy tale, and I always made it my business to point out why she was wrong in her thinking. This of course was one of my worst personality traits, proving people wrong, and the one thing she didn’t like about me on most days. But nobody was without fault, and what mattered was that she still loved me like a sister, anyway.

Still, I couldn’t resist making my next comment.

“Then why did you divorce Xavier, if marriage is supposed to be so permanent?” I asked, smiling.

“Whatever, Anise,” she said, dismissing me.

“That’s what I thought.”

We both laughed until she spoke again.

“But seriously, you and David can work this out if you want to. It’s not like either of you are sleeping around with other people, like Xavier was. And as far as I’m concerned, any other disagreement or problem can be fixed.”

“Maybe. But who’s to say whether it can be or not, because we both know every man isn’t like Marc.”

“No, I admit, he is a wonderful person. Almost too good to be
true when I dwell on it for too long. Sometimes when he’s sleeping, I stare at him and wonder what I did so great for God to bring him into my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier, but the tough part about being this happy is that you spend at least a quick moment every day wondering when it’s all going to blow up in your face.”

“You shouldn’t think that way, because we all deserve some happiness.”

“I know, but every now and then, I can’t help thinking about the fact that he had a drinking problem before I met him. He hasn’t even drunk beer since I’ve been with him, but still, I sometimes worry about it.”

“I can understand that, but you just have to believe that everything is going to be fine.”

Monica opened her mouth to speak again, but the phone rang.

“Shoot, I forgot to bring out the cordless. I’ll be right back,” she said, darting into the house.

A warm breeze swept across my face, and I closed my eyes savoring the moment. I sighed when I thought about the problems in my life. If my grandmother were still alive, she’d tell me to say, “Hallelujah anyhow.” She’d tell me that I should stop complaining and thank God for waking me up in my right mind, for giving me all the necessities I need to survive and for keeping me in good health. Which I did all the time, because I was extremely gracious toward His blessings. But even though I wholeheartedly believed that God never placed any more on us than we could bear, it really was starting to feel like it. I was so terribly overwhelmed, and for the most part, just plain miserable. I kept asking myself what happened to the life I lived barely two years ago. I wasn’t having much success with my career back then either, but at least I’d just started a new position at Reed Meyers, and David and I were happier than ever. We did everything together, and we took more trips to Jamaica,
Mexico, and Hawaii in one year than most couples did in a lifetime. Then I became consumed with trying to get ahead in the business
world, and David started working much longer hours, sometimes calling to say it was too late to drive all the way home, and that it would be more convenient to grab a hotel room instead. His company was generous enough to pay for it, but I noticed that his overnight stays in Chicago eventually became more frequent as time went on and his two-day business trips turned into weeklong conferences. I’d questioned him a number of times about how limited his time was at home, but he always responded by telling me that traveling was part of the business, and that he had no choice in the matter.

I didn’t know whether he was telling the truth or whether he used those excuses as a means to disguise what he was really up to. I knew he was upset about my not getting pregnant, but it just seemed to me that there was something else bothering him. Like there was something or someone else distracting him. Maybe it was just my imagination or maybe even the guilt I kept feeling for not doing everything I could as a wife to make him happy. But I couldn’t avoid the fact that he wasn’t being the best husband either. The least he could do was give me the support any husband should give any career-oriented wife who was possibly being shafted by her employer. I had basically remained the same in terms of my values and morals in life. He, however, had changed completely with this whole why-can’t-I-be-white mentality, and I didn’t see how I could ever get used to it, now or in the future. But maybe he’d be willing to change if I calmly explained how derogatory his thinking was. Maybe
I needed to spend more time focusing on my own faults as well and doing everything I could to try and be a better wife. Maybe it was time I stopped dwelling on my career issues for a while and spent more time acknowledging what David needed as my husband.

Monica stepped back onto the patio with the cordless phone in one hand and closed the door with the other. She laid the phone near our drinking glasses and eased her body back down on the chaise.

“That was Mom calling,” she said.

“Really? How are she and your father doing?”

“They’re both fine, and from what it sounds like, they’re spoiling Tamia worse than they did last year. Which means she’ll have to be brought down to the proper level when she returns home. They let her get away with murder, and somehow she fixes her little mind to think that the rules are the same here in Mitchell.”

I laughed because I remembered doing the same thing as a child when I visited my grandparents.

“You know how it is when grandchildren spend time with their grandparents,” I said. “It’s hilarious if you ask me.”

“Yeah, because you were probably one of those same brats yourself.”

“You’re right, and I must say I’m proud of it.”

We laughed and continued talking about everything imaginable. We enjoyed our time together, and I hated when the sun finally rested to the west of us, because it meant I had to go home and face David. It meant I had to prepare for another awkward evening in my own household. But there was no sense in trying to prevent the inevitable.

So I went home and vowed to do all I could to make things right between us.

It wasn’t even nine, but surprisingly, David was already home. When I walked into the kitchen from the garage, he was sitting at the wrought-iron-trimmed breakfast table eating ice cream. I glanced at him and then away, unsure if he was still angry.

I sat my purse on the island the way I always did when I arrived home and turned toward the hallway leading to our bedroom. My first thought was to ignore him, but my heart was too heavy to continue this silent combat we were unnecessarily engaged in.

“Hello, David,” I said, stopping in front of him.

“Hi.” He spooned another helping of ice cream from the bowl in front of him.

“David, how long are we going to go on like this?” I asked.

“Go on like what?”

“Like this. Giving each other the silent treatment, arguing like we hate each other, and not spending any quality time together.”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

He wasn’t helping the situation in the least.

“I know we don’t agree on a lot of things, and that we’ve grown somewhat apart, but I don’t want us to continue like this. I want things to be better between us. I’m miserable all the time, and I’m tired of feeling all this pain.”

He looked at me but didn’t respond.

“Don’t you have anything to say?”

“Not really, because every time we have a conversation, it always turns into a sparring match. So what’s the point?”

“The point is that I’m tired of going through this day in and day out. I’m having all these problems at work, and then I come home to either an empty bed or an argument with you. And I’m telling you, David, it’s becoming way too much for me to deal with. Sometimes I feel like I want to scream or like I’m having a nervous breakdown. I feel like everyone is against me. I know you don’t understand my job situation, but I’m still your wife, and the least you could do is be here for me,” I said with tears in my eyes. “Do you hear what I’m saying, David?”

“I’m sorry.” He stood and walked toward me. “I’m really sorry.”

He pulled me into his arms, and I cried the way I’d wanted to for weeks. It felt good being held by my husband, the man I’d been so happy with and so in love with in the beginning. I wished we could erase all the disagreeable moments we’d shared and start our marriage from scratch. I wished we could make things better than they ever were.

I lifted my head from his shoulder and gazed into his eyes. “David, I don’t want us to continue the way we are, because I do still love you. I know it may not seem like it, but I do. I need you more than you realize, and I need you to love me back.”

He was speechless, but he looked at me in the most genuine way. Then he rested the palms of his hands, one on each side of my face, and kissed me. I tried to remember the last time we’d been this intimate, but I couldn’t.

He kissed me aggressively, almost like he wanted me to know he was in control, and I loved every second of it. We’d been struggling against each other for so long that I’d forgotten what it was like to be with my own husband. I’d forgotten what it was like to be with a member of the opposite sex.

Finally, he pulled away, took my hand and led me into our bedroom. I kicked off my sandals, and he pulled my T-shirt over my head, unsnapped my bra and kissed my lips again. I pushed down his khaki shorts and removed his polo shirt. We kissed erotically for a long time, until he leaned my body back onto the bed and removed the jeans and satin underwear I was wearing. He kissed me passionately again, and I moaned when he took one of my breasts into his mouth and massaged the nipple of the other. He pushed both my legs above my chest and eased inside me. He stroked in and out of me, maybe six or seven times, and then he bellowed with pleasure almost instantly. We both breathed deeply. Him, from having the orgasm he’d just experienced, and me from trying to have one myself, before it was too late. I was somewhat disappointed, but tonight I was just happy to feel so close to the man I was married to.

David rested on top of me for a few minutes and then pecked me on the lips. “It’s really been a long time, hasn’t it?” he asked, smiling.

“Too long. Way too long for two people who are married.”

“All I can say is that I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. And more than anything, I want to try and save our marriage. We both have things we need to change, and no matter what’s going on with our careers, we have to make a conscious effort toward spending more time together.”

“I agree.”

“Maybe we should take a trip somewhere,” I suggested.

“Maybe. Maybe we can plan something for next month.”

“I’ll check with our company’s travel service tomorrow.”

David moved his body to my side, and I laid my head on his chest. He caressed the top of my head in silence for a long while, and I could tell he was deep in thought. But I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to spoil the moment. I felt more relaxed than I had in months, and I was thankful that we both wanted to reconcile and keep our marriage intact. We’d been through a lot and would have to work hard to fix things between us, but I was willing to do whatever it took. I was independent and, yes, even stubborn at times, but I wanted to make David happy again. I wanted to be more like the wife he wanted me to be. I wanted our relationship to exceed both our expectations.

We held each other close, and I finally spoke.

“I love you, David.”

“I love you, too, and more than anything, I want you to know how sorry I am for everything,” he said, sounding more apologetic than I’d ever heard him in the past.

“I’m sorry, too,” I said, and raised my head to look at him.

Then I kissed him like it was our final opportunity to be together. Because from this moment on, I wanted us to live each day as if it was our last.

D
AVID HAD LEFT
bright and early this morning, and while I wanted to take a hot, soothing bath in the Jacuzzi, I settled for a shower because I was running late. We’d held each other most of the night, and it felt good being able to sleep hour after hour without tossing and turning with anger and worry. Lately, David had been turning his back to me and sleeping so close to the edge of the bed that a tiny tap on his back would have sent him crashing to the floor.

There were many mornings when he hadn’t even told me he was leaving, and the only way I knew was that I heard the security system beep three times when he opened the door separating the garage and kitchen. Something he never would have done a year ago, because he always kissed me before going out. He’d been acting almost like he didn’t have a wife, like he lived alone, like I didn’t even exist. I’d felt so empty without him, and I hadn’t been sure how much longer I’d be able to tolerate his hurtful rages of silence. But things were finally changing, and I couldn’t have been happier. I couldn’t wait to schedule our much needed getaway to wherever.

I finished drying myself from shoulders to toes, smoothed roasted hazelnut lotion across my body and sprayed on a splash made of the same scent. In my walk-in closet, I pulled out my navy blue skirt suit. I’d decided last night that today would be the day I completed the job bidding form, printed a copy of my résumé outlining all of my in-house accomplishments and submitted my official application package to Jim. I knew he wasn’t going to be happy, but he would just have to deal with it. There was a chance that things were going to get ugly, but I decided that somehow, it was going to be well worth it in the end. The way I saw it, there were only two ways to go with this. They could either promote me or give the job to someone less qualified, and I could either be happy with their decision or file a discrimination lawsuit against them if they didn’t do what was right. I preferred an amicable outcome, but I was willing to fight Jim, his supervisor, Lyle, and Reed Meyers all the way
to the finish line if I had to.