“Rhonda, what, what, what are you doing? Linda? Why would you do that?”
“Do what, Lewis? I just asked if you wanted to tell your kids about your friend named Linda, that’s all.”
The kids look at me with confusion on their faces. Mark speaks up first.
“We know Ms. Linda, your co-worker right, Dad?”
The color from Lewis’s face drains.
“Oh yeah, she’s the one who had that big cookout one year when we were younger and me and Malik went with Daddy. I think Mark was sick or something so Ma you stayed at home with him, but remember I got a big gash on my knee and had to go the emergency room to get stitches? I was pushing Malik on the swing and tripped and fell on some glass. That was a long time ago, though.”
My mind starts to rewind back to the time when Melanie had to get stitches in her knee. I shake my head. Lewis told me they were at a cookout of one of his buddies, not once did he mention this was Linda’s cookout. I remember the incident clearly because he brought Melanie home first and she was so upset because of all the blood. Lewis didn’t think the cut was deep, but I insisted he take my child to the ER while I stayed home with Mark who was coming off of one of his drug binges.
I realize how stupid Linda and all of her friends thought I had to be, the wife sitting out in Goochland County without a clue, while he spent most of his time in town, courting Linda. Not to mention taking my kids around her, something I didn’t know he’d done. I wasn’t going to address that in front of the kids. Then again, it wasn’t worth addressing at all at this point. But Lewis could see the fury on my face. It’s one thing to disrespect me, but to drag my kids into it reaches another level of low down.
“Yeah, that was a long time ago, Mel. You know what? The reasons why your father and I are divorcing don’t matter anymore. I will just say we have grown apart over the years and decided this would be best for both of us.”
“I can’t believe this. You wait until you get old to decide to get a divorce. Who’s going to look after you, Ma, when me and Mark are busy with our own families?” Malik says, not realizing the insult.
“First of all, I’m not old. Second of all, I will be just fine looking after myself. I plan to sell this big house and get me one of those lovely condos overlooking the James River when I retire in five years.”
“SELL THE HOUSE?” they all yell this at the same time, even Lewis.
“Yes, sell the house!”
“Wait a minute, Rhonda, we didn’t talk about selling the house. This is our home, our kids deserve this house be handed down to them.”
He’s such an idiot. We have three kids and one house. How does he plan on handing one house down to three kids? Oh, I get it, they wait until we both keel over and die so then they can sell the house and reap the benefits of the proceeds. I don’t think so. Besides, this hasn’t been a home for him in quite some time. He spent his time laying his hat around too many places.
“Lewis, my dear Lewis, this house will be sold in five years, period. Now if you want to buy me out, you know, give me my share of what I put into it, and you stay here, that’s on you. But trust and believe, when I retire, I’m leaving. In the meantime, you need to find somewhere else to go.”
“Ma, this is crazy, I mean are you going through menopause or something?” Melanie asks.
I roll my eyes at her.
“Lewis, stop acting like this is new to you. We had this conversation several times and you know it’s been long overdue. Kids, we both love you very much, but we don’t have the love we used to have for one another anymore. Your father, well, he has other interests now which don’t include me. Life is too short for me to sit out here in the middle of nowhere in this big house by myself while you all are off living your life. I’m not saying that to make you feel bad, I just want you to know it’s time for me to look out for Rhonda. I took care of all of you for so long, now it’s time for me to take care of me. Don’t you think I deserve to be happy for a change?”
Mark turns away from his father and stares at me. A light bulb seems to go off in his head. Keeping his eyes on me, he asks his father, “Dad, are you having an affair with Ms. Linda?”
“Boy, take your time now. Remember, I’m your father.”
“Mark, how could you ask him that?” Malik yells.
Then all three of them are going at it with each other.
For probably a minute, Lewis and I let them go at it before Lewis yells, “Be quiet, all of you! I don’t care how grown you all are, you are still our children. The bottom line here is your mother and I are going our separate ways. Period. That’s it. I plan on moving out in a couple of weeks so we can file for a legal separation. I’m going to be the man right now and say it’s all my fault our marriage fell apart and I take full responsibility for the pain I caused your mother. Everything else is between me and your mother.”
All of the kids seemed to have a revelation at the same time. One by one, they leave his side and come to stand by me. I never wanted them to have to take sides in all this, but Lewis asked for it when he tried to put on the show for them. Bringing up Linda wasn’t part of the original plan either, but his childish behavior brought that on.
“Dad, how could you? All these years you preached to us about honesty and integrity. What happened to yours?” Mark asks.
“Boy, I already told you to stay out of it.”
“No, forget that. I remember once I came home from rehab and you made me feel like the biggest failure there was. ‘Son your integrity is one of those things you have complete control of and without integrity no one will stand to be around you’. Remember telling me that? So how can you preach to me about my integrity when clearly you don’t have any? See, I always knew there was something up with that Linda woman. She slipped up once and said something to you and she said ‘our son’. I remember. You tried to make me think I didn’t hear what I heard. So don’t preach to me about integrity.”
“What are you saying, Mark? Her son is dad’s son? He’s our brother?” Malik says.
Well, now it feels like we’re in the middle of a Lifetime movie. All that’s missing is the sappy music playing in the background. Poor Tracey has taken her baby to the family room out of the middle of this mess and my other grandbaby has been grabbing handfuls of birthday cake, eating it.
Lewis has the look of defeat in his eyes. He wants to raise his white flag, but it’s too late. Instead of staying the course with the divorce announcement, he wanted to make me out to be the bad guy. I had no intention of taking the rap for his foolishness. I just wonder if he will continue to deny fathering Linda’s child.
“No way. Is it?” says Melanie.
Lewis struggles with the decision to tell the truth or lie. I would imagine telling the truth would make him feel better, lift the invisible burden he’s carried all these years. It amazes me how he creeped around for so long, but stood firm with his lying to me about being faithful and having an outside child. Why was it so easy for Lewis to lie to me, but when it came to his children it wasn’t so easy?
Everyone waits for Lewis to respond. Mark has since pulled his chair closer to mine and wrapped his arms around me. The silence seems to go on for an eternity but when Lewis hangs his head, we all knew then. My sensitive child is now in tears, I’m sure thinking about the same betrayal she felt from her son’s father. There was no way her father would do something like this. Not the only man she put high on a pedestal. Malik is in denial, shaking his head at the mere thought of his father betraying his mother in this way.
“Yes. Linda’s son is my son.”
“Oh, Daddy, how could you!” Melanie shrieks.
“Kids, believe me when I say, I’m okay,” I feel the need to say. “For years I’ve tried to shield you all from my unhappiness and insanity for the sake of keeping you all happy. But I had an epiphany this morning when I woke up as a sixty-year-old young woman. I still have a lot of time left and I don’t want to spend it protecting your father, pretending to p
lay married when the marriage died a long time ago. Don’t cry for me, I’ve cried already. Don’t be angry for me, I’ve done that, too. Be happy for me because today starts my journey of true happiness. Your father has to handle his own demons but at the end of the day, he’s still your father so don’t hold a grudge. Be thankful we were able to give you all a great life as children. I don’t know what the future holds for me. I might be too old to marry but I’m too young to bury, that’s for sure.”
Feeling those three wrap their arms around me was my reassurance that things were going to be alright. Sure I was nervous about a future that didn’t include Lewis, but I knew whatever my future was, I would finally be content.
LaKesa Cox is the author of three novels, After the Storm, Water in my Eyes and Fetish for a Blue Skyy. She resides in Henrico, Virginia and is currently working on her next novel. For more information, check out her webpage at www.lakesacox.com.
That’s the Way Love Goes
By Adrienne Thompson
“I want a divorce.”
As I sat at the foot of our king-sized bed, I wasn’t sure what shocked me more, the fact that my husband of twenty-five years had just uttered those words, or the fact that they’d slid out of his mouth so smoothly.
“Things just ain’t the same between us no more,” he continued.
I was only half-listening, because my eyes were glued to his stomach. He’d gained weight over the years and now had the physique of a middle-aged pregnant man. And he had the nerve to be leaving me? Really? Shoot, I kept it tight. Hit the gym five days a week. I’d lost count of the number of men who would hit on me nearly every time I left the house, and he wanted a divorce? The hell?
“I still love you, but I’m not in love with you. I mean, I thank you for being there for me over the years…”
I knew this was coming, though, so I don’t even know why I was shocked. If I really thought about it, I think the first clue was one Sunday when we went out to eat after church and this Negro was sitting there putting ketchup on his fries. In all the years I’d known him, he’d never liked ketchup.
I even asked him, “What heifer got you putting ketchup on your fries?”
And you know what he did? He just sat there looking like a doggone deer in headlights, talking about, “Woman, you need to stop tripping.”
Mm-hmm, I knew I was right.
“This is hard for me. It was… it was a hard decision for me to make, but I really think it’s for the best.”
Negro was standing up there like he was God’s gift to the world, like he didn’t snore so loud that sleeping with him was akin to sleeping with a grizzly bear. I mean, really, after I carried his kids, two of which weighed close to ten pounds (I don’t have to tell you what that does to a woman’s nether region), he had the nerve and audacity to leave me. Me! Mm-hmm, I knew when he bought the motorcycle something was up. Probably got him a young little hood rat stashed away somewhere and she’s got him thinking he’s the bomb-dot-com. Poor girl probably has no idea about his little blue pill dependency.. I closed my eyes and slightly shook my head, scoffed under my breath.
“I know you’re upset, Kell. I know this seems unfair after all these years…”
Unfair? Unfair? I’ll tell you what’s unfair, me giving up on my dream of being a caterer so I could follow him to Bumfuddle, Arkansas, so he could coach golf at the local college. And speaking of golf, how was he going to act like I didn’t spend years upon years stifling yawns and shaking the numbness out of my feet as I watched the world’s most boring sport all because I was trying to support him. Humph!
“I want you to know there’s no one else…”
Yeah, there is.
I opened my eyes in time to see him sit beside me on the bed. He fixed his sympathetic eyes on my face and said, “Is there anything you want to say? I know you’re upset, and I want to be here for you, to listen. I still love you, Kell. I always will.”
I tilted my head to the side and responded with, “When are you leaving?”
He frowned and released a quick breath. “Uh… well, I thought we should tell the kids first — together, the both of us.”
“Tell them what?”
“That-that we’re separating.”
“Marcus, the kids are all grown. It’s not like they’ll need to decide who they’re going to live with or anything like that. You can tell them on your own and if they want to talk to me, they can call or come by and I’ll confirm that you want a divorce.”
“O…okay.”
“So when did you say you’re leaving?”
“I didn’t say. I mean, there’s no rush, Kell.”
“Well, dear, yes there is. You see, there’s no way I’ma reside in the same house with you after that little announcement you just made, so I think you should go ahead and pack a bag and get on to wherever it is you really want to be.”
He just sat there, dumfounded. Not a word passed his lips for a full five minutes. So I said, “You need my help?” and stood from the bed. I crossed the room to the closet and pulled out the biggest and best suitcase we owned — my gorgeous Louis Vuitton Zephyr 70. Although I knew I’d be paying that credit card purchase off from now into eternity, I didn’t mind letting him take it. On second thought, I’d bought it with one of his credit cards so it was rightfully his. I smiled a little as I pulled it from the closet.
“Here you go,” I said as I set it on the bed next to him. Then I left the bedroom and was back in a matter of minutes with his favorite set of golf clubs. “I know you’ll need these for work and everything,” I said.
He just sat there, his eyes shifting from the suitcase to me and back.
“But this is your bag,” he said softly. “Your favorite bag.”
I nodded. “Yeah, but it’s okay. I’ll get another one eventually.” With the alimony your lowdown behind is gonna pay me.
He reached over and unzipped the suitcase, then he let his hand drop and raised his eyes, fixing them on me. “You don’t have anything you want to say or ask, Kell?”
He wants me to ask him who she is and where he’s going. “No, I think you’ve made yourself perfectly clear.”
He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and cleared his throat. “Well, I mean… don’t you think we should talk about this?”
I frowned slightly as I leaned against the door. “Talk about what, Marcus? You just told me that you love me, but you’re not in love with me and that you want to leave. We’ve already agreed that you’ll tell the kids and since I don’t work, it stands to reason that I’ll stay here and you’ll be the one to leave. That about covers it?”
“Damn, Kell. Twenty-five years and you ain’t gonna shed a tear or nothing?” He said it so softly, I almost couldn’t make his words out.
“I don’t see you crying, Marcus, and you were with me those same twenty-five years,” I rebutted.
“You got somebody else or something? Is that why you’re so eager for me to leave?”
“You got somebody else or something? That why you want a divorce?”
“I already told you that’s not it.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You gonna answer my question, Kell? You been cheating?”
I folded my arms over my chest and shook my head. “You tell me you want a divorce and then accuse me of cheating because I’m not pitching a fit? Have you lost your mind, Marcus?”
He leaned forward, his brown eyes glued to me. “I’m just saying, I expected more of a reaction. All these years we been together. We got kids and grandkids, and you act like you don’t even care about me leaving!”
“Wow, okay.” I crossed the room, opened one of his dresser drawers, and pulled out the stack of underwear I had washed and neatly folded earlier that day. Then I tossed them onto the bed. “Let me help you pack,” I said.
“Who is he, Kell?”
I rolled my eyes. “Good grief.” I reached into another drawer and grabbed a stack of crisp white t-shirts. You could still smell the c
ombination of Clorox bleach and Downy fabric softener. “Here,” I said, shoving them toward him.
He snatched the shirts from me and muttered, “I don’t believe this…”
“That makes two of us.”
I stood by the door and watched as he huffed and puffed and shoved his underwear into the suitcase. He looked up and stared at me for a moment, then said, “Do you still love me, Kell?”
I shrugged. “Does it matter?”
His mouth hung open for a second. “Yes, it matters!”
“So was that what was supposed to happen? You were supposed to inform me of your intention to leave me and I was supposed to tell you how much I love you, beg you to stay?”
“No—I mean, yes—I mean, just tell me if you love me.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to know!”
“Why?”
“Just answer the question, Kell,” he pleaded.
I stood there for a minute, took in my tall, honey brown-skinned, handsome, albeit a little overweight husband’s appearance. Remembered how thrilled I was all those years ago in college when he asked me out on a date, how after we’d been together for a while I would mindlessly scribble “Marcus and Kelly” on my notebooks, and how my heart leaped when after a year of dating, he proposed.
I remembered how he wept when I told him I was pregnant with our first child and how small Little Marc looked in Marcus’s arms shortly after he was born. I remembered the births of our other three kids, the late night feedings and early morning risings. I remembered twenty-five years of meals cooked, beds made, and dirty drawers washed. I remembered weekends alone at home with the kids while he accompanied the golf team to some tournament or while he went on some recruiting trip. I remembered the snide remarks I’d endured from his mother who I always knew never liked me. I remembered “till death do us part,” “in sickness and in health,” “for better or worse,” and the one that made me want to throat-punch him, “forsaking all others.” I thought about the last twenty-five years I’d spent loving him and making love to him, and the only answer I had for his question was to turn and leave the room.
The Ex Chronicles Page 2