Imitation of Wife

by La Jill Hunt

  “Doing what? Asking you simple questions that you refuse to answer?”

  “Letting whatever dispute, disagreement, dialogue you and your family had mess with your head. I know that’s what this is. It happens every time you’re around them. Now they got you asking dumb-ass questions.” He took another swig.

  “You haven’t. Answered. The questions, Titus.” She took breaths between her words.

  “Tricia, I have taken care of you and Tank since the day he was born. I work hard, I go above and beyond to make sure both of you have everything you need and most of what you want. I’m a damn good father. I don’t ask you for a dime to pay one bill in this house, which, by the way, is the house you picked out and wanted. I don’t complain, I’ve never put my hands on you, I don’t run the streets, and I bring my ass home every single night. About the only thing I do ask you for is ass every now and then, and at this point, I’m so used to getting turned down, I hardly ask for that either. It is what it is.” Titus stared at her. “You and Tank have been my life for the past seventeen years, and from what I can see, you’ve lived a damn good life because I love both of you. Now you wanna stand here and question whether I’m in love with you? You’re tripping. Now move so I can go watch the basketball game.”

  When he went to go around her that time, Tricia didn’t stop him. She was too stunned not only by what he said, but also by what he didn’t say. All this time, all these years, had they all been a lie? She’d thought her sisters were lying, but now she wasn’t sure.

  Tricia was an emotional wreck, to the point where she was physically ill and hadn’t gone to work all week. Titus had tried to make nice, but she’d iced him out. Luckily, he had sense enough to leave her alone. Not that he had a lot of time to be concerned. Once again, he and Tank spent most of their time at practice. Titus would come home from work with dinner, shower, change clothes, then head over to the school. Tricia spent most of the week either in bed or in the den watching television. On Saturday, her mother encouraged her to go to the doctor to make sure it wasn’t anything more serious. So now, here she was at the urgent care clinic not too far from the house.

  “I don’t think it’s any type of bug or virus you may have contracted either. I see in your chart that you’ve taken meds for anxiety and mild depression. Are you still taking them?” The doctor looked at her.

  “When I need them.” Tricia shrugged. It had been a while since she’d even filled her prescription, mainly because until Titus forced her to go to Tank’s game, followed by his disappearing act, she hadn’t really been stressed or anxious.

  “Well, has anything major happened where you may have needed them and not had them?” he asked. “Everything okay at work and at home?”

  Other than the fact that I just found out my husband has been lying to me for the past seventeen years? “Work is fine.” Tricia sighed.

  “Sounds like it may be something going on at home then.” He said it as if he were talking to himself and not her. “I’m going to recommend you make a follow-up appointment with whatever doctor you’re seeing for the antianxiety and antidepressant meds. Who’s your therapist?”

  “Therapist?” Tricia frowned. “I don’t see a therapist.”

  “Who prescribed the meds for you?”

  “My PCP,” she said with an attitude. “I don’t need no therapist. I’m not crazy.”

  “I didn’t say that you were. But I’m sure when your PCP diagnosed you and gave you your prescription, he advised you to seek additional treatment.”

  Her doctor had suggested that she see a counselor, but he hadn’t mandated it. And since the medicine he prescribed made her feel better, she didn’t.

  “Can’t you just write me out the same prescription?” She frowned.

  “Unfortunately, I can’t. Listen, there’s nothing wrong with seeing a therapist. Drugs do help temporarily, but you need to get to the root of whatever it is that’s really making you sick.”

  “My family,” Tricia murmured, not knowing if she was referring to her husband, son, or sisters, or maybe even all of them.

  “Could be.” Dr. McPherson stood. “And if that’s truly the case, then I would advise seeing a family therapist.”

  “But I feel sick now. My stomach is in knots, and I feel nauseated all the time. Aren’t you going to do something to help me?”

  “I just did.” He smiled and walked out of the room.

  * * *

  Titus called as she was pulling out of the parking lot. “What did the doctor say?”

  “He said you’re making me sick and we need to go to therapy,” she said, twisting the doctor’s words.

  “I doubt that’s what he said.”

  “I’m serious. And I think he may be right. So I’m going to find a therapist for us to go to counseling as a family.”

  “Nope, that ain’t happening. You may go to see a therapist, but I’m not. I’m fine and so is Tank. I’m not gonna even disrupt his life with that all because you’re tripping over some bullshit-ass question as a result of an argument with your sisters,” Titus responded.

  “It’s not about you and Tank all the damn time, Titus. It’s about us,” Tricia said.

  “What about us? Was something wrong with us before this weekend?”

  Tricia remained quiet. Until her sisters made the statement, she really didn’t have a problem with anything, well, not anything major. But the fact that he couldn’t or wouldn’t answer the question was still disturbing her. Certainly, a therapist would put him in a position where he would have to at least give her an answer and, if need be, show him his obvious neglect and disrespect by not only refusing to answer but causing her undue stress.

  “We’re going to therapy.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see. Anyway, I’m glad it’s nothing serious. I’ll pick up pizza and bring it for dinner. You on your way back home?”

  “No, I’m not,” she told him, suddenly feeling the need to release the tension she now felt in her chest. “I’m going to the mall.”

  “You’re going to the mall on a Saturday? Damn, see? You’re feeling better already. No therapy needed. You got your favorite kind of therapy: retail.” He hung up.

  * * *

  “That’ll be $222.11,” the woman who’d rung up her purchases in Lane Bryant told her.

  Tricia handed her the store credit card, which was also paid for by Titus. After paying, Tricia put the card back in her wallet, gathered her bags, and walked out of the store, almost bumping into someone. Tricia opened her mouth to cuss out whoever it was, but the woman apologized before she could say anything.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Oh, Tricia.”

  Tricia realized it was Sylvia Blackwell, Peyton’s mother. “Hello. Sylvia, right?”

  “Yes. How are you? How is Tank? I heard about his being selected as a McDonald’s All-American. That’s incredible. I’m sure you’re excited about that.” Sylvia smiled. She was a pretty woman, average height and build, thick hair pulled off her face. She was wearing a red sweatshirt with sorority symbols on the front. Another woman who was with her wore a jacket with the same symbols. They both wore black leggings and tall black leather boots and carried just as many bags as Tricia, from various stores.

  “He’s good. And yes, we’re quite excited.” Tricia nodded.

  “This is my best friend, Lynne. Lynne, this is Tank’s mom, Tricia.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about your son and the fabulous prom plans.” Lynne smiled.

  “Prom plans?” Tricia frowned.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve told Peyton that those upscale ideas that she and Tank have will be scaled back. Pictures on a yacht? I don’t think so.” Sylvia laughed.

  “Aw, come on, I think the photo session on the yacht was a fabulous idea.” Lynne giggled, then asked Tricia, “Don’t you think that’s cute?”

  Tricia had no idea what they were talking about. She felt the heat climbing the back of her neck, and she was uncomfortable. She considered laughing a
s if she were in on the joke, but she didn’t have the energy or desire to be fake, so she simply said, “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

  The two women glanced at one another, and their laughter subsided. Sylvia gave her an apologetic look. “Oh, Tank asked Peyton to be his prom date the other week. And he agreed to attend hers. I thought you knew.”

  “No, I didn’t,” Tricia told them.

  “Well, with the upcoming All-American Game and decision day coming up, Tank probably hasn’t had time to tell you. But I will definitely reach out and get with you to discuss logistics and details. I still have your number,” Sylvia said.

  “It was nice meeting you, Tricia. Congratulations to Tank again,” Lynne said.

  “Thank you.”

  The two ladies walked away, laughing and mumbling. Tricia imagined they were probably talking about her for some reason or another. She looked down at her own outfit: a Disney sweatshirt, ill-fitting jeans, and sneakers. Her braids were tucked into a bun at the back of her neck. She pushed her glasses up on her nose and headed to the food court. There seemed to be a line at each and every restaurant, and she stood in the center of the madness, trying to decide whether to endure the shrieks of the crying toddler throwing a tantrum in front of the hibachi spot, or just leave. Her cell phone rang, and she answered.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, Tricia. How are you?”

  “Hi, Everett. I’m okay.” She’d considered calling him to apologize for everything that had happened during their last phone call, Tank’s rudeness, and her confused mumbling, but she was too embarrassed.

  “That’s good to hear. I was just calling to check on you. You seemed kind of upset last week.”

  “I’m sorry about that. I was in the middle of a moment when Tarik gave me the phone. And I’m sorry about his attitude, as well.” Tricia walked over to a nearby empty table, set her bags in one chair, and sat in the other.

  “Hey, no apologies needed for either one of you. And Tarik didn’t have an attitude at all. He’s a great young man who knows exactly what he wants, and that’s a good thing. Not something to apologize for.”

  “I appreciate that. I tried talking some sense into him, but, I mean, I don’t want you to feel as if you wasted your time.”

  “I don’t think that at all. As a matter of fact, I have something for you.”

  “You do?” Tricia said.

  “I do. I’ll be in town early next week. If you’d like, we can meet up somewhere, or I can drop it off at your house.”

  Tricia thought about the reaction Titus would have if he saw or found out Everett was at their house, and she quickly said, “We can meet up. It’s cool. Just let me know when and where.”

  “Great. I’ll call you later in the week. Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Tricia. And again, thanks for at least allowing me to talk to Tank about his opportunities at Burke. You’re a great mom.”

  “I appreciate that.” Tricia smiled. By the time she got off the phone, her entire demeanor had changed, and she felt better than she had all week for some reason. Her phone rang again, and this time it was her mother.

  “Hey, Ma,” Tricia said, deciding to leave the crowded mall.

  “Hey, baby. Are you okay? I’ve been calling and calling you.”

  “Yeah, I was under the weather a little this week, but I’m better. I’m leaving the mall.”

  “Shopping always makes you feel better,” she said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I don’t know, Ma. I went to the doctor, and he suggested that we go to family therapy, but Titus doesn’t wanna go.”

  “Why do you need to go to therapy? Y’all having problems?”

  “No, well, I don’t know.”

  “Tricia, now you listen to me and you listen good. Ain’t no point in trying to fix nothing that ain’t broke. You said yourself you got a fine husband, a good son, and a nice family. You ain’t have no complaints all this time, so why you complaining now?”

  “Mama, I asked him if he was in love with me, and he ain’t answer. He had the nerve to act offended.”

  “I don’t blame him. I knew when them girls said that to you, it was gonna be a problem. Now look at you, being sick, trying to make him go to therapy.” Her mother sighed. “You can’t make a grown man do nothing he don’t wanna do. Especially one who ain’t got a reason to do it. Not answer no questions, not go to therapy, nothing.”

  Tricia didn’t say anything. The light mood she felt moments before answering the phone was now gone, replaced by thoughts of Titus and his refusal to go to therapy, and now her mother telling her what she should or shouldn’t be doing. Even more so, what she couldn’t do.

  “Tricia, you there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here, Mama.”

  “You hear what I’m saying?”

  “Yes, Mama.” Tricia sighed, walking out of the mall, now feeling sick all over again. She looked across the parking lot and saw Sylvia and her friend laughing as they got into a black Volvo SUV. She thought about the plans her son had for prom and suddenly smiled. “Mama, I gotta go. I’ll call you back tomorrow.”

  Chapter 20

  Sylvia

  “Syl, what’s wrong?” Lynne asked.

  Sylvia sat staring at the message on her phone that she’d just received that left her stunned and confused. She held the phone out so Lynne could see what she saw. “What the hell?”

  “Girl, what?” Lynne sounded just as confused. “What happened? I’m so lost.”

  “Me too,” Sylvia said as she tried calling the number that the message came from, but it went straight to voicemail. She hung up and tried dialing it again. Same thing. This time, she left a message. “Hey, Tricia, this is Sylvia. I just got your text about Tank not being able to attend prom. I’m sorry you and your husband have decided that he can’t attend, and I was hoping we could maybe talk about it. The kids have been looking forward to this, and I don’t want them to be disappointed. Please give me a call back.”

  “Did I miss something?” Lynne looked at her.

  “If you did, I did too. I mean, you were standing right there and were part of the same conversation that I was. Maybe she’s feeling some kinda way since Tank didn’t tell her, but that’s no reason for her to say he can’t go.” Sylvia said as she drove.

  “I think she’s on some bullshit. You know Titus wouldn’t do this. He ain’t like that.”

  Sylvia nodded in agreement. “I don’t think it’s him either. It makes no sense.”

  “Lord, Peyton is going to be so hurt. She probably doesn’t even know about this,” Lynne said.

  Sylvia knew this was going to devastate her daughter. Despite being under punishment, Peyton was still excited about both upcoming proms and all she talked about. Sylvia was even beginning to enjoy the endless dresses Peyton sent pictures of.

  “Probably not. I mean, we just talked to the woman, what, an hour ago? This is ridiculous. Nothing could’ve happened that fast.” Sylvia instructed Siri to call her daughter via Bluetooth.

  “Hey, Ma.” Peyton’s joyful voice came through the speakers of the truck, a sign that she had no idea she no longer had a prom date.

  “Hey, baby. What’re you doing?”

  “Trying to convince Dad to take me to the hair store,” Peyton said a little too loudly, as if she was wanted to make sure her father heard her.

  “Your father’s home, I mean, there?” Sylvia frowned. She hadn’t seen nor verbally spoken to Garry since he abruptly left before she got home from their therapy session. They’d texted, but it had been very stiff. And he hadn’t mentioned coming back, nor did she ask.

  “Yeah. He got here about an hour ago,” Peyton said.

  “Oh, okay. Well, where’s Aunt Connie and Jordan?” Sylvia asked.

  “In the kitchen making something. You know how buddy-buddy they are,” Peyton said with noticeable sarcasm.

  “Peyton Janelle, that was uncalled for. You’re already skating on thin ice. You should be in there wi
th them, getting some lessons from Aunt Connie yourself.”

  “You ready?” Garry’s voice was in the distance.

  “I can’t. I’m going to the hair store,” Peyton said, “Did you want something, Mom? Why did you call?”

  Sylvia had almost forgotten why she’d called her daughter in the first place. “Oh, nothing. Peyton, have you talked to Tank?”

  “No. He’s training really hard for the game next weekend, so he hasn’t really been available. But I did let him know he was invited over for dinner once this All-American stuff is over.”

  Sylvia looked over at Lynne. “Okay, honey. I’ll see you when I get home.”

  “Okay. Bye, Mom. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  “See? She has no idea, and I can bet you that boy doesn’t know either,” Lynne told her. “Are you gonna tell her?”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Sylvia sighed as she took a screenshot of the text and forwarded it to another contact in her phone.

  “About Peyton or about Garry or something else?” Lynne asked. Her best friend knew her very well, and Sylvia appreciated that she picked up on the fact that the answer she’d given applied to multiple situations she was facing right now.

  “Pick one,” Sylvia replied.

  “Hey, you know I get it. Hampton showed up at my house last night, Garry shows up at yours today—”

  “Wait, what? Hampton showed up? Why? Better yet, why are you just now telling me this? We’ve been out shopping all day, and you’re just now saying something?” Sylvia almost stopped in the middle of the highway they were traveling on.

  “I was gonna mention it when we went to eat, but I got a feeling we’re not going, so now is just as good a time as any, I guess.” Lynne shrugged.

  “Why the hell did he come over? What did he want? Did you screw him, Lynne, and don’t lie to me.” Sylvia tried to keep one eye on the traffic while looking over at Lynne to see if she was going to tell the truth.

  “Hell no, I didn’t screw him, Syl. You know better than that. And he said he came over to check on me because I’d been on his mind. Some bullshit. He only stayed for about thirty minutes. He was on his way to a date with some thot.”