Torn Between Two Lovers (12 page)

When I showed up for therapy at my usual time, Roberta's receptionist informed me that she'd had to leave unexpectedly and that we would have to reschedule. Her eight-year-old son had fallen on the school playground and broken his arm, so Roberta was with him in the emergency room. I was sorry to hear that, but I wasn't stressing it at all. To tell you the truth, I was thinking about cutting back our twice-weekly therapy sessions to once a week anyway. Things were just getting too intense as of late, and I wasn't sure I could take much more. They called it therapy, but to me it was starting to become more like torture.

I'd originally come to see Roberta for help with my marriage and sexual shortcomings, but now I was coming face-to-face with issues and secrets that probably should have just remained buried. In our last few sessions, she had me talking about stuff that was just way too close to home and totally off topic, as far as I was concerned, not to mention none of her business. Besides, things between Loraine and me had gotten so much better now that we'd had our conversation about my aunt. Where I thought she would be appalled, she actually embraced me, and I was grateful for her love and support. Sure, there was still the premature-ejaculation issue, but now that she knew where the root of the issue lay, she actually seemed relieved. I guess she felt better knowing that it wasn't something wrong with her. It's funny what peace of mind can do, because lately she'd been humming and singing like all her frustrations had been swept away in one night. If she wasn't so close to menopause, I'd swear she was pregnant because lately she almost glowed.

On the way home from Roberta's office, traffic was so backed up that I decided to take back roads home and pick up some Chinese food from this place on Parham Road that the whole town seemed to be raving about. I'd wanted to bring Loraine there, considering how much she loved Chinese, but it would have to be another day.

I'd spoken to her about a half hour ago, and she told me she had some big dinner meeting up in Fredericksburg with a client. Unfortunately, she wouldn't be home until sometime around eleven, so I'd be eating shrimp and broccoli and egg rolls by myself.

As I sat at the light waiting to make the turn into the Chinese restaurant, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, because across the street, pulling out of the restaurant parking lot, I saw the prettiest metallic-blue Cadillac. Now, I'll be the first to admit I like the new Caddies, but it wasn't the car that almost made me break my neck doing a double take. It was the woman sitting in the passenger's seat. I swear she looked just like my wife. Of course, she couldn't be, because Loraine was in Fredericksburg at a meeting.

I watched the Caddie pull out and disappear in the traffic down Parham Road. Now, call it a hunch, a gut feeling, psychic abilities, or just plain curiosity, but when the light turned green, something told me to follow that car instead of going to the restaurant. I drove for almost a mile before I was able to catch up to the Caddie, and when I did, I almost slammed into the back of the car in front of me because I was staring so hard at the Cadillac. The driver made a left turn, and I was able to get a better look at the passenger. She didn't just look like my wife. That woman
was
my wife! My stomach plummeted like an elevator with a broken cable, and my heart pounded in my chest like a jackhammer. To make matters worse, there was no doubt in my mind that the guy driving the car was that son of a bitch she used to mess with. I cut off two other drivers to make a quick left, leaving a trail of blaring horns behind me.

Another half mile or so down the road, I caught up with them again. They clearly had no idea I was behind them, because Loraine was leaning on him and kissing his neck.

So much for our little celibacy pact. Now I knew why her mood had changed and she was so damn happy all the time. While I was in therapy, she was out on the street getting a little sexual healing. Jealousy and rage coursed through my body, escaping through my fist as I pounded the steering wheel.

I thought about plowing my car into the back of Michael's Caddie, but the hand of reason held me back. Instead, I continued to follow them—for what, I wasn't sure quite yet.

I knew there was a good possibility that they were headed to a motel, and as I envisioned the confrontation we would have in the parking lot, I did a quick mental inventory of the contents of my trunk. My golf clubs were still in there. Perfect. By the time I got through with him, Michael's face would be bruised the same shade of blue as his Cadillac, and his car would need more body work than he could ever afford.

I smiled as I imagined myself swinging a nine iron into the windshield of his shiny car, but the feeling was only temporary. As I trailed a few cars behind them, I could see Loraine's hands waving all over the place, the way they often did when she was talking excitedly. Oh, she was all comfortable and cozy with this dude. Suddenly, I couldn't handle this ruse any longer. I couldn't take another minute.

At the next red light, I swerved around another car and screeched to a halt alongside them, blowing my horn like I'd lost my fucking mind. Michael and Loraine looked in the direction of the sound, at first appearing angry, like they were going to tell someone off for honking at them. But when she realized who she was looking at, Loraine's eyes widened and her mouth flew open. She put her hand over her mouth.

“That's right, bitch! You been busted!” I screamed as I lowered my window. “Get out that car,” I hollered, pointing my finger at her. “Get out the fucking car!”

I could read Loraine's lips:
Oh my God
.

“Is that all you got to say? Get the hell over here RIGHT NOW!” I opened my car door and stepped out. By now, the light had changed, and the driver behind Michael leaned on his horn. Michael moved his car forward. For a second I thought that punk was going to drive away and make me chase him like a maniac through the streets of Richmond, but suprisingly he acted like he had some sense, pulling over to the side of the road.

A few more drivers honked their horns, signaling for me to move, but I just flipped them off. There was plenty of room for them to drive around my car. I had more important things to take care of.

I could see some conversation going on between them as I approached his car. Loraine touched Michael's shoulder as if to say,
Don't do anything. Please don't do anything.
Hmph. She just didn't know. I was ready to beat Michael's ass right there in the middle of the street.

I was about to bang on the windows, but Loraine came to her senses and got out of the car. She didn't even look at me. She just scooted out of Michael's car, walked around to mine, and climbed into the passenger's seat. She had barely gotten her leg in the door when I jumped in and sped off with a lurch.

“I should whip your fucking ass!” I hollered at her. “I don't believe this shit. Here I am going through therapy, trying to keep our marriage together, and you out messing with this man.”

I was surprised at how calm her voice remained. “Leon, it's not what you think.”

“Oh, it's not? Well, then, why don't you fucking enlighten me!”

“We were just having a business meeting. He just wanted to talk to me about some business.”

Was this bitch for real, or did she just think I was the dumbest motherfucker on Earth? A business meeting with a dude she used to fuck.

“Business, huh? I thought you had a business meeting in Fredericksburg with Mary Dupree. If I remember correctly, you was just getting off at her exit.” She didn't have much to say about that. “I can't believe you could do me like this.”

“I'm sorry, Leon. But you gotta believe me; I wasn't gonna do anything with him. You got this whole thing wrong. I love you, baby, and only you.”

I turned my head completely in her direction. “If you don't shut your lying-ass mouth, I'm gonna slap your ass to next week. Now, try my ass if you want to.” It had been a long time since an argument had escalated to this level, but I was done with this whole calm, cool, and collected “let's talk this out” shit. I mean, look how far it had gotten me: a wife who was walking all over me.

I turned my attention back to the road. “We're gonna finish this conversation when we get home.”

I drove the rest of the way in silence. I was so blinded by rage that I don't know how I made it home without running a red light or running someone over.

As soon as I stomped into my house, I went straight for the bar in the family room, where I poured myself a healthy glass of Hennessey. I didn't know what I was going to do. I was two seconds away from whipping Loraine's ass when she came in the house, only I was scared that if I did, I might push her into that bastard's arms for good. As fucked up as it was, I still loved her.

“Leon.”

Loraine came into the family room, looking all guilty. I think she was expecting to get her ass beat, but still, she was holding her head up like she hadn't done anything. It was as if she'd declared,
This is my story, and I'm sticking to it.

I gulped down my drink and took a deep breath, trying to control my fury. “You want a divorce? You want me to move out?”

She stared at me in shock. “No, this is our house, and you're my husband. Neither one of us is going anywhere.”

I poured another drink. “So you gonna tell me what I did to deserve this? 'Cause you told me sex wasn't that important if two people had love.”

“You don't deserve this at all. This is all my fault, but it's all a big misunderstanding.”

“You damn right it's your fault. All I wanna know is how long have you been fucking his ass?”

“Leon, I haven't—”

Before she could spit out another lie, the doorbell rang.

“Who the hell is that?” I bellowed, thinking that whoever it was had a pretty good chance of getting punched in the mouth if they said the slightest thing to piss me off.

I couldn't stop my body from trembling as I watched Leon stomp into the house. I stood outside, cursing myself for being so stupid. Dammit, was I ever going to catch a break? I still couldn't believe he'd caught Michael and me together. He wasn't even supposed to be on that side of town. He was supposed to be at therapy. Why the hell did I push Michael so hard to take me to that Chinese restaurant? If I had just listened to him, we'd be up in the Marriott getting our groove on right now with a lot less drama.

I stayed out there for a while, trying to gather the courage to go into the house. Leon and I had gotten into our share of domestic altercations over the years, but it had been me who couldn't control my temper. I'd always lashed out at him first. This time, he was madder than I think I'd ever seen him, and I had a feeling the situation could get dangerous. I'm not gonna lie; I was so afraid of what he might do that I considered running. But it was my carelessness that had gotten me into this mess, and now I had to go inside to try to clean it up.

Don't get me wrong; I felt bad that Leon's feelings were hurt. But right now, my first priority was to calm him down so no one—not me, not Leon, and not Michael—got physically hurt. If that meant going in there and lying my ass off, then that's what I would do.

Who knew where my marriage stood now. I didn't want it to be over—I knew that much—but now that I was back with Michael, I didn't want to give him up either. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I'd known I would eventually have to make a choice, but dammit, I wasn't ready to make it yet. As I stumbled up the walkway on shaky legs, I had no idea which way this conversation would go. All I knew was I had to start somewhere, preferably without violence.

In the living room, Leon was pouring himself a drink. I wanted to tell him to move over and pour me one, too, but I needed a clear head if I was going to talk my way out of this one.

I kept a safe distance away from Leon as he finished his first drink. A bit of the tension seemed to leave his shoulders as he poured himself another, and I figured it was safe to start talking.

“Leon.” I took a few cautious steps closer to him. I'd already mapped out my escape route to the bathroom if things suddenly got out of hand. My heart felt like it was trying to push its way out of my chest, but I used every trick I'd ever learned in the business world to practice the art of “never let them see you sweat.” I needed Leon to believe I was calm. Only an innocent woman would be calm in a situation like this, right?

“You want a divorce?” he asked. “You want me to move out?”

His words threw me off for a second, but something behind his eyes told me he didn't really want me to answer yes. I felt a glimmer of hope.

“No,” I told him, “this is our house, and you're my husband. Neither one of us is going anywhere.”

His hands were unsteady as he poured another drink. “So you gonna tell me what I did to deserve this? 'Cause you told me sex wasn't that important if two people had love.”

We went back and forth a few more times, with him accusing me of lying and me swearing that everything was all a big misunderstanding. This approach was clearly getting us nowhere. He was hurting, and not ready to let go of it yet. He didn't want to believe I could be innocent.

Then I had a brilliant idea. It was time for me to go to therapy. Not that I felt like I had any problems—certainly nothing as serious as Leon's past—that needed to be worked out; I just knew that offering to see a therapist would stop this conversation in its tracks and buy me some more time.

I was about to offer this solution when I was interrupted by the ringing doorbell.

“Who the hell is that?” he snapped.

He started to come out from behind the bar, but I stopped him. Thinking fast, I handed him the bottle of Hennessey. “Look, I'll get the door. You just try and calm yourself down. Have another drink.”

“That better not be that nigga!”

That's exactly what I was afraid of.

“He's not stupid,” I said, praying I was right. “Why would he come here?” I trudged to the door, hoping it was UPS with some of the HSN stuff I'd ordered.

You guessed it. It was Michael standing on the other side of the door, and I had to put my hand up to stop him from rushing into my house as soon as I opened the door.

I stepped outside and shut the door behind me. “Michael, what the hell are you doing here? I told you I could handle this.”

I looked down at his hands, which were shoved into his pockets, and it scared the crap out of me. “Oh, no,” I gasped. When Leon first pulled up beside us, yelling and screaming, Michael shocked the hell out of me by pulling a gun out of his glove compartment. Would you believe he was about to get out of the car and confront Leon with it? I had to beg him to put it away and let me get out of the car alone.

I looked into his eyes, searching for a sign of his intentions. Did he plan on using that gun now? I took his arms and pulled him down two steps to the walkway, as if it would make a difference to get him that little bit farther away from my front door. “Michael, what are you doing here?”

“I just came to see if you were all right.” He pulled his hands out of his pockets, with no gun in sight. That made me feel a little better, but I still needed to get him out of there in a hurry.

“I told you I'd call you when I got a chance.”

“That was half an hour ago. He could have killed you by now.”

“Well, I'm not dead yet, but if you don't get out of here, I will be. You're only making things worse by being here.”

“Look, I don't want you to stay here tonight. That guy's unstable. He didn't hit you or anything, did he?”

“I'm fine, Michael. Please, you have to go. I can handle this. I'll call you later. I promise.”

“You promise!”

I could feel a rush of air as Leon opened the door behind me. He saw Michael and went ballistic. I ran up the steps and shoved my hands hard against his chest to stop him from going any farther. I planted my feet firmly on the ground, struggling to stay upright as Leon grabbed my shoulders in a painfully tight grip.

“You fucking disrespectful bitch! I know you ain't got this nigga standing outside my house, talking to you like I ain't even here!”

“Leon, this is not what it looks like.”

“What do you think, I'm fucking blind? This is exactly what it looks like. This high-yellow nigga just followed us home! But that's all right. I'm gonna put a cap in your ass, nigga, and the law won't say a thing, because you trespassing.”

Leon was talking a lot of shit for a man who didn't own a gun, and I was scared Michael might put him in his place by pulling out a real weapon.

Fortunately, he restrained himself, only issuing a warning. “Loraine, you best tell this man to stop threatening me or you'll be burying him instead of divorcing him.”

“Oh, God.” I could feel it; we were only seconds away from some real tragedy. I kept my hands on Leon's chest but craned my neck around to speak to Michael. “Please don't do anything stupid. Just get outta here. Please!”

“Get out my way! I ain't scared of that punk-ass motherfucker.” I had both arms wrapped around Leon's waist at this point, but he was still inching closer to Michael. “What's wrong, sissy boy? You hiding behind a woman because you afraid you gonna get your ass whipped by a real man?”

Michael laughed. “I know you didn't just call me a sissy and challenge my manhood, Minute Man.”

It took a second, but when Michael's words sunk in, I no longer had to restrain Leon. All the fight went out of him like a deflated balloon. He was defeated without even one punch being thrown.

“What did you call me?”

“You heard me, Johnny Quick. I probably wouldn't be here if you could last more than a minute or two.”

I turned and screamed, “Michael, shut up!”

Leon was looking at me with tears glistening in his eyes. “How could you? How could you tell him, of all people, about our…my personal business?”

“Leon, I…I…” I couldn't answer because I didn't know what to say. Michael had straight up put me out there, whether or not he'd done it on purpose.

“You want her, you can have her,” Leon said, pushing me toward Michael.

I tried to wrap my arms around him, but he slapped my hands away. “Leon, please don't do this.”

“Loraine, come on,” Michael said from the walkway. “You heard the man. He don't want you.”

I spun around, looking Michael dead in the eyes. “Get out of here! Get the fuck outta here! Nobody asked you to come here.”

I turned back to Leon, pleading, “Baby, please. I'm sorry. Don't do this. He doesn't mean anything to me!”

“I may have issues, but I don't want your pity. I do have some pride. I'll have my lawyer draw up some papers.” He turned to go into the house.

“No,” I screamed. “I don't want no fucking divorce!” I refused to believe that things had really reached this point.

Leon stopped and turned around, and when I saw the look in his eyes, I knew that whether or not I liked it, I had to make a choice. His eyes weren't filled with tears anymore. “What about him? You ready to give him up?” He pointed at Michael.

“I'll do whatever it takes. You're my husband; he's not. We took an oath to be together for better or for worse, till death do us part.” I couldn't, wouldn't, look back at Michael, because unfortunately, I meant every word of what I had said.

“Then get your ass in the house. This shit ain't over yet.” I couldn't tell if the threat was directed at me, because he was looking at Michael as he spoke. “Now you can get the hell off my property. Your services are no longer needed.”

“Loraine,” Michael called out one last time.

“Go home, Michael, and please don't try to contact me again. I don't want to hurt my husband any more than I have.” With that being said, I walked in the house to deal with the consequences of my actions.