Love and Happiness

by Ben Burgess, Jr

  For the past six months, every weekend had been like this for me. Chris would have the kids, and I’d party hard, unrestricted, and free. I didn’t care if guys were trying to run game on me. I lived in the moment and blocked all my pain with alcohol and sex.

  My head was still pounding from my hangover when I pulled into my garage. I figured I would use the rest of today to recuperate.

  It felt weird not seeing Chris’s Mustang parked in there anymore. He’d been moving more of his things from the house every time he dropped off the kids, further distancing himself from me. I leaned my head back against the headrest. I sighed and prepared myself to be depressed for the rest of the day.

  I slowly made my way from the garage to the kitchen. I made some coffee, turned on the TV in the living room, and scrolled through all the shows on my DVR. My plan was to catch up on the ones I had missed during the week. As I sipped my coffee, Lindsey called. I thought about answering the phone, but I let the call go to voice mail. My head was throbbing, and I wanted to be alone. But five minutes later the doorbell rang. I got a text from Lindsey saying she was outside. I answered the door.

  “Hey, bestie,” I said.

  “Hey,” she answered.

  She walked in, and we hugged.

  “You want some coffee?” I asked.

  “Nah. What are you doing today?”

  “Nothing. Gonna relax and catch up on my shows. My head’s still bumping from last night.”

  “I actually came to talk to you about last night,” she informed me as she followed me into the living room.

  I had known this was coming. Lindsey was my best friend, and even though she loved me like a sister, she wouldn’t hesitate to check me when she felt it was needed.

  “What’s up?”

  “I know you’re going through a lot of shit, but this has to stop. This isn’t you anymore. You’re better than this,” she blurted as we both took a seat on the couch.

  I ran my hand over my hair and down my face. “This is me. With Chris, I lost who I was. I wasn’t the fun party girl I used to be. My life had become routine and boring.”

  “So, you think getting drunk all the time and partying will improve it? Things have changed, K. You’re an adult now. You have responsibilities and children. I agree, you do need to have fun, but part of life is growing up and leaving that childish shit behind.”

  I stared at my wedding ring. I was too damn emotional to respond.

  “Every weekend, you’re partying and sleeping with guy after guy. Is that really making you happy?” she said.

  I managed to get my emotions under control enough to answer. “I’m not happy, but what am I supposed to do? When I’m home, I’m depressed as shit. Things at work are starting to get a little better, but the whispers are still there. People are still gossiping about me, and it hurts.”

  Lindsey put her hand on my shoulder.

  “I’m divorced, Lindsey. At first, I felt that it was only some stupid paperwork, that in time everything would go back to normal, and that this would only be temporary, like a bad dream. But when I look in Chris’s eyes, I know it’s real. I know it’s over.” My throat tightened. Tears welled in my eyes, and my lips quivered. “That love he had for me is gone. He’s given it to Nadine. He’s happy with her. I’m nothing more than the mother of his children, and I’m scared I’ll never find someone to make me happy.”

  “Karen, you have to let go. You’ll find the right guy for you. It might not happen right away or when you want it, but you will. I want you to promise me something, though.”

  I huffed. “What?”

  “When the right one comes around, you’ll work things out with him whenever there’s a problem.”

  “Of course I will . . . What do you mean?”

  “With Chris, a part of the reason things didn’t work out is that you compared him to too many other men. You compared him to Raheem. You compared him to Tyrell. You even compared him to Jeff.”

  I nodded. She was right.

  “Of course, you want to help your man become better, but don’t try to turn him into something he’s not. Learn from this experience so history doesn’t repeat itself,” she advised me.

  We hugged. We spent the rest of the day talking. It was time I started to apply Lindsey’s advice.

  * * *

  Another six months passed, and during that time I swore off men completely. I didn’t even entertain the idea of dating, because in my mind, finding a good man was like finding a unicorn. I was alone, but I wasn’t lonely. I had my friends, my sister, and most importantly, I had myself. Chloe tried numerous times to convince me to party and fuck my pain away, but I didn’t allow myself to be persuaded. I told her I was sticking with my decision to swear off men, and even though she strongly disagreed, she respected my decision.

  These past few months had shown me I didn’t require a man in my life to be happy. I needed to find happiness within myself first and understand that when the time was right, a man would enhance my already happy life. For years, I had felt I had to find a Prince Charming to rescue me so I could live happily ever after. This whole ordeal with Chris had helped me to break out of that fantasy and had forced me to grow up.

  Things with Chris had improved somewhat. I had had to realize that no matter how much I wanted things to be the way they were or how much I tried to repair our past, things would never be the same with us. The only thing I could do now was make the best of the situation for the sake of our children. Now whenever Chris and I interacted, we weren’t cold and argumentative. We were cordial. As far as Chris’s girlfriend, Nadine, was concerned, I had stopped thinking about her as the woman who took my man. I’d even met her a few times, and she was always pleasant. She was nice to my kids, and while I could never be friends with her, the least I could do was be somewhat friendly toward her.

  I was jolted back to the present when my tire pressure light came on after I hit two huge potholes on the road. My car started shaking and sputtering.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screamed. I was driving to work, and now I knew I was going to be late.

  I steered my car onto the shoulder of the expressway, out of the way of traffic. I slapped the steering wheel in frustration.

  “Fucking great!” I yelled.

  I called Chloe. No answer. I called Lindsey. Her phone went straight to voice mail. I remembered she always turned her phone off when she was teaching. I called Vivian and Judy, but no answer. As a last resort, I called Chris.

  “Yeah? What’s up?” he answered.

  “Are you still home, or are you already in the city?”

  “I’m in the city. Why?”

  “My tire blew out, and I’m stranded on the side of the road.”

  “Our . . . You should still have triple A on your car. Look in the glove compartment. You should find all the info in there. That should help. I gotta go.”

  “All right. Thanks.”

  He ended the call. I followed what he’d said to do, and discovered that our fucking AAA had expired. I stepped out of the car to assess the damage. It was fucking freezing. While I was surveying the tire, a black BMW 6 Series pulled up next to me.

  The driver rolled down his window. “Excuse me, miss. Do you need some help?”

  Any other day, I would’ve told the dude to keep stepping, but it was too damn cold to have an attitude.

  “Yeah. These two massive potholes came out of nowhere, and now I have a flat.”

  “Do you have a regular spare or at least a doughnut?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that stuff.”

  “Do you mind if I check your trunk?”

  “You can, but I don’t think there’s one in there.”

  He parked behind me, put on his flashing lights, then climbed out of the BMW. I popped my trunk for him. He fished around inside, raised the lid on the compartment underneath, and found a doughnut spare tire and a jack.

  “I can help you put this on if you want,” he said as
he pulled out the doughnut and the jack.

  “Please do.”

  He knelt down and got to work on my tire. It had been a while since a guy had caught my eye, but this one did, so I checked him out a bit. He was tall, about six feet five, and he had a mocha-colored complexion. And he was in decent shape and fine.

  He wiped his brow when he had finished changing the tire and stowing the flat one in my trunk. “There you go. That should get you where you’re going, at least temporarily.”

  “Thank you so much.” I reached in my purse. “Let me give you a few dollars for your time.”

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  “No, no. Time is money,” I insisted.

  “Seriously, I’m good.” He pulled out his wallet and handed me a business card. “I own an auto shop not too far from here. When you want to replace that tire, stop by. I’ll take care of you.”

  I was tired and stressed from this early morning tire bullshit, so I thought about taking the day off and handling this tire right away. I needed a mental health day from work, anyway.

  “Are you headed to your shop now?” I asked.

  “Yup.”

  “Would you be able to help me replace the tire now?”

  “Sure. Just follow me.”

  The only reason I was being bold and agreeing to follow this random stranger—random fine stranger—was that I’d driven past his business before, so I knew it existed. I called my job, told my supervisor, Roger, I had car trouble and needed the day off, then followed Mr. Handy and Handsome to his shop. Fifteen minutes later, I was inside the shop’s waiting room.

  “All right, Mrs. . . .”

  I had my gloves on, so Mr. Handy and Handsome couldn’t see my wedding ring, but I corrected him. “It’s Ms., and my name is Karen.”

  “Well, Ms. Karen, my name is Andre. Please have a seat, and my men will take care of you.”

  He talked to his staff. I saw them nod, and then one of them drove my car into the garage. I sat in the waiting room for about two and half hours, reading the magazines that were around, drinking coffee, and playing games on my phone. Finally, Andre reappeared with paperwork in his hand.

  “Karen, can you come into my office for a minute?”

  “Coming.” I followed him into his office and sat in the chair in front of his desk.

  “How much is everything?” I asked.

  “Well, for starters your front brakes were shot, you badly needed an oil change, and your windshield wipers were beyond worn. We took care of all those for you, but we also needed to replace both of your front tires. I gave you a break with everything, so I’m only charging you two hundred seventy-five dollars. The tires alone cost that much.”

  “Thank you for that, but this isn’t what I fucking need right now. I didn’t know tires were that damn costly.”

  He stared at me. “I guess this expense isn’t good for your budget, huh?”

  I sucked my teeth. “No, it’s not.”

  He shifted in his chair. He looked uncomfortable. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. I’m not trying to be rude or come on too strong, but how about you go out to lunch with me today, and we’ll call it even?”

  I gave him the side eye. “Excuse me? It sounds like you’re trying to pick me up.”

  “I am . . . sort of. Look, you seem nice. I work all the time, and I don’t get to meet a lot of nice, attractive women. I’m just asking you to bless me with your presence for lunch. That’s all. If you have a good time, maybe we can exchange numbers and have dinner sometime. If not, at least you’ll have a free lunch, and you’ll have your car fixed for free today. It’s a win-win.”

  He was right. Either way it was good for me. If he was an ass, I’d never talk to him again, and I’d still have my car fixed and a free lunch. If he behaved himself and proved interesting, maybe I’d let him take me on a real date. Maybe. I had a feeling he thought I’d be an easy piece of ass. If he believed that, he had another thing coming. I hadn’t touched a man in months and had no plans to break that streak now.

  “I’ll play nice and have lunch with you, but I’ll follow you to the restaurant in my car,” I told him.

  “How do I know you won’t drive off and ditch me?”

  I shrugged. “You don’t.”

  He laughed. “Fair enough.”

  Although the thought did cross my mind to ditch him, I followed him along Route 110 to Blackstone Steakhouse. He opened the door for me, which was a plus, and pulled my chair out when we sat at our table. I loved that he was gentlemanly, but I figured he was just running game. Raheem had put up the same façade when he was courting me.

  “Order whatever you want,” he said as we gazed at our menus.

  I gave him a small grin. “I plan on it. You invited me out to lunch. I didn’t expect to have a limit on the price of what I could order.”

  He laughed. I didn’t even crack a smile.

  “You look nice today,” he said after he closed his menu.

  I sighed. “Thank you for the compliment. I’m flattered, but I’m not up for games. Compliment me when you mean it. If you want to get to know me, be real and honest with me.”

  “I meant what I said. Trust me, I’m not into playing mind games, either. If you allow me to get to know you, you’ll see that I’m a genuine brotha.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “So, do you work around this area?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I work for National Grid. Are you married?”

  He looked at my hand and noticed my wedding ring. I still hadn’t taken it off after all this time. “Divorced. You?” he said.

  “The same. Was your divorce a hot mess or peaceful?”

  “Uh, a hot mess.”

  “Why?”

  He fidgeted. My direct questions made him nervous, and I liked that. His discomfort could help keep him honest or at least help me to decipher if he was bullshitting. It wouldn’t be much, but his answers would expose little pieces of himself to me and would let me know what type of man I was dealing with.

  “You want the politically correct answer or the truth?”

  “Humor me. Give me both.”

  “The politically correct answer would be, we grew apart. The truth is, I cheated on her because our marriage lacked passion. I could lie, but I want to be real and honest with you.”

  I nodded. “Keep going.”

  “You want to know more about my old marriage?”

  “Yup. If I know why it failed, it’ll help me to see if you’re worth dating or if history will repeat itself. We both established that we don’t want to waste each other’s time.”

  “Fair enough . . . She never gave a shit about anything. She was always nonchalant. She had no dreams, hobbies, or passions. I couldn’t live like that. I didn’t want to break her heart completely and leave her, so I cheated.”

  Now I was the one shifting uncomfortably. “Did she ever find out?”

  He looked pained by that question. “No. To this day, she still has no idea. The woman I cheated with was married. I thought she shared the same feelings I had and was going to leave her husband, but she had a change of heart and decided to stay with him. The damage was already done for me, though. I had already ended things with my ex.”

  “Does this ex of yours have a name?”

  “Does it matter?”

  I nodded. “It matters to me.”

  “Her name is Qiana.”

  “Cute name.”

  He shrugged.

  “You have any kids?” I asked.

  “She didn’t want any. She had her tubes tied before we married, and never told me. I found out one day, when we argued over the possibility of starting a family. All right. You’ve been asking a lot of questions. It’s my turn.”

  I didn’t have to answer shit. He was the one pursuing me, but I humored him. I sighed and said, “Ask away.”

  “Do you have any kids?”

  “Yup. I have twin girls.”

  “Cool. Do they live w
ith you?”

  “No, they stay with my ex-husband, but I see them almost every day.”

  “Does this ex-husband have a name?”

  “Chris. Now back to you. Why didn’t you try to get Qiana back after things fell apart with your side piece?”

  He cringed when I said, “Side piece.”

  “If I’d gone back to her, I’d have only ended up cheating on her with someone else. It wouldn’t have been right, and I didn’t want to continue being a liar and a cheater.”

  His pain echoed my pain. I told him about Chris and the horrendous saga that had led to our divorce. I felt oddly comfortable talking to him. I felt like he understood me because we had similar situations. He explained that his divorce had made him into a better man. He was more ambitious, wanting to expand his business to more locations, and true to himself. He had promised himself that if he were ever to marry again, he’d marry the “right” woman for him. It was still too early for me to determine what kind of man he was, but so far, he had my attention.

  * * *

  In the weeks that followed, Andre and I went on more dates. He was good company and someone I could vibe with. He was easy to talk to, he made me laugh, and he understood I was in no rush to enter a relationship.

  Overall, he was a good guy. He was someone with whom I could have dinner, catch a movie, and go to functions when I needed a male companion. He was a deep brother. Mentally, he stimulated me, and that was a huge turn-on. What I liked about him was also what I feared about him. The things he would do and say had the power to create a false sense of hope, and I didn’t want to get hurt. I wished I could stop the feelings that were blossoming, but I couldn’t help it. They were there.

  On our sixth date, we kissed. It was at the company Christmas party. I usually brought Chris to the party, but that was over. I didn’t want to go alone, so I took Andre.

  “It’s good to see you, Karen,” Roger said when we bumped into each other.

  “Thanks. It’s good to see you too. This is my . . . uh . . . friend Andre.”