At midnight, I was startled out of my sleep by loud banging. Even though I was sure it was Michael, I was still shocked to see him when I opened the door.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “I’m not waking Samantha, so come get her in the morning.”
“I just needed to talk. I’m tired, Stacy,” he said. “It’s been a long, exhausting day.” He stared at the ground and kicked the carpet, like a kid preparing for a scolding.
It was 12:31 and he had chosen this time to become a three-year-old. Patience, Stacy!
When he looked up with tears in his eyes, I got scared. Now, Michael’s not a thug, but he wasn’t soft. In our years of friendship, I had never seen him cry.
“Okay…calm down…what happened at Heather’s?” I guided him to the couch.
We sat down and Michael stretched out, laying his head on my lap. This was different for us, but felt natural. I started massaging his head of tight soft curls, something I’d never done.
“I just can’t get this shit right, it’s been so hard since Mom died and no one’s happy.”
Then, he sobbed, and I stayed quiet, just stroking his hair. This was good, a breakthrough. Like I said, he was still affected by his mom’s death, having never shed a tear – at least not in public.
His tears made me think of his mother – and the last conversation we’d had.
I’d gone to visit her and she’d sent Michael away so that she and I could talk. I was nervous about it, at first. But then, she had put me at ease before she shocked me with her words.
“Would you like some tea?” she asked when we were alone.
“No, Ma’am. I’m fine.”
“Why’re you calling me ma’am? You’ve been calling me mom for five years. Don’t get brand new.”
I chuckled.
She said, “I just needed some one on one time with the woman who should be my daughter-in-law.”
My mouth opened wide.
“Shut your mouth, girl.” Then, she went on to tell me how while she thought Erica had the best intentions, she would never be able to take care of Michael and that I could.
“I don’t have much time left.” She held up her hand when I began to protest. “It’s fine; I’ve lived a good life and I’m tired. But I just had to talk to you about this. I had to tell you that my son doesn’t know it, but he’s in love with you.” My shock was showing, but she continued, “There are going to be some rough days ahead for Michael.” She took my hand. “Take care of my son. What I would love is for the two of you to get married, but honestly baby, just be there for him. Be there when he needs to navigate this, when he needs to break down….”
I heard his mother as if she were in the room with us now, and I just let Michael cry. He cried until he had no tears left, and then turned over and stared up at me.
He remained silent for a few moments, then, “Seriously, will you be my wife?”
All the other times he’d asked me, I laughed. But this time, it was so crazy and profound and weird…watching him cry and thinking about the words of his mother.
He sat up and we hugged, until Michael began to kiss me. He kissed my neck first, then my cheek, my forehead, and my eyes. I shuddered when he held my face with both hands.
Looking into my eyes, he said, “Trust me.”
Two simple words that weren’t simple at all.
I didn’t even know I was crying until he wiped away my tears with his gentle fingers. We shifted, and I was on Michael’s lap and our faces were so close, our noses almost touched.
I tried to pull away, but he pulled me closer.
“I’m in love with you, Stacy,” he whispered. “You’re my best friend, the strongest woman I know, and I want to spend my life healing your pains and proving that you are making a great decision to trust me.”
For the first time since my engagement, I wanted another man to touch me. I leaned forward and kissed him. And then, our bodies shared an intimate beautiful conversation that was timely, but long overdue….
2010 – I’m Married Now
It was crazy that Michael’s daughter was almost seven. She was my favorite little person, and I was pretty sure I ranked higher than her mom. With the back and forth with her parents, I had been the most consistent person in her life.
“Yes, Samantha, we should be there around six.”
I hung up and smiled. This was a good time in all of our lives. Michael and Erica had completely parted ways and he and Heather had gotten it together, though they hadn’t married yet. But they’d created a great space for Samantha.
“Honey, who was on the phone?”
I looked at my husband of two years. And in those few seconds, I thought about the wonderful journey that our marriage was.
I bet you thought I’d be living happily ever after with Michael. Well, we tried, but it didn’t work. The morning after our night of passion, we talked about a relationship, but the sheer number of people who would be hurt by our actions, outweighed our desire to take our relationship to another level.
That was for the best because though Michael and I loved each other, in the spirit of who he was, he had to build a life with the mother of his child.
So after we had our moment, which was a great moment, we decided to stay on the friendship track and love the people who deserved to have us be the best versions of ourselves.
The Present – Here and Now
And that’s where we ended up….me, with William and Michael with Heather. Yes, they finally married.
Michael is truly the ex I never had. The stars just didn’t align for us, but that never stopped me from keeping my promise to his mother – I would protect him, from this space of friendship. It is far more challenging than you would think, but it’s a journey I wouldn’t trade for the world.
Christina Grant is a writer, hopeless romantic, and believer in fairy tales!
BEST EX EVER
By Meredith E. Greenwood
Tiffany knew her man was up to something the minute she whipped her Nissan Xterra into the extended circular driveway. Even from the inside of the vehicle, the smell of country fried ham, fresh-baked croissants, and cinnamon apples consumed her nostrils and almost made her mouth water. Keith had gotten up extra early to fix his famous “sunrise surprise” breakfast. She closed her eyes and imagined every six feet, five inches of his shirtless, chocolate body standing at the stove. She smirked and thought about how she loved sneaking up behind him while he cooked and grabbing his…
“Wait, is that caramel vanilla coffee I smell?” Tiffany mumbled to herself. She rushed up the stairs to the front door and gave and explosive knock.
She gripped her stomach and waited for the door to open. It was time for another pep talk.
“Tiff, get a hold of yourself.”
There was no time for lusting over the meal that she’d awakened to many mornings. There was no time for memories either, because at that very moment while she was still on the exterior side of the large glass front door of Keith’s four thousand square foot lake-front house that they’d found and decorated together, her boyfriend of six years was on the inside; and he clearly had no plans of letting her in.
Tiffany balled up her fist and banged on the door extremely hard, definitely harder than she had the first seven times; and once she reluctantly accepted the fact that her knuckles were starting to bruise, she finally allowed two heart-crushing realities to slap her in the face. One – she had not been invited to breakfast, and two – there was another woman on the other side of the door and inside with her man.
If I could just get the double-paned window to open, I could stop whatever was about to happen, and get my man back.
Deep down she knew it was time to give up, but something equally as deep wouldn’t let her.
“Ouch!” She struck the window, forgetting about the condition of her hand. She was so delirious with rage that it never occurred that she really was trying to break the glass.
“I don’t care about
this stupid window!” she screamed. Tiffany had stopped thinking about consequences a long time ago; not even Keith’s alarm system would stop her. She was willing to do whatever it took to get inside; and that’s why she was pleased with herself when she had the brilliant idea of climbing over the back fence and peeking between the slats of the wooden window blinds. If I can’t get inside, maybe I could at least see inside.
Thirty minutes had passed. Fifteen minutes of banging on windows and doors, five minutes of the neighbors pretending to water their already perfect lawns, five more minutes of Bruno – Keith’s Dog – barking at her, and five whole minutes of accepting defeat. All of that carrying on had left Tiffany in the same place where she’d started, back in her car. The only difference was that she was headed to her own house… alone, wet, soggy, and cold. Yes, soggy. During her attempt to break in, Tiffany had received a text message. She started to ignore it, but checked it, hoping it was Keith texting to tell her he’d finally opened the front door.
It was Keith, but it wasn’t the message she was hoping for. She let out a string of curse words when she read it:
GO HOME. STOP ACTING CRAZY. CALLING PO-PO’S. SMDH
Tiffany wasn’t worried. She knew Keith would never call the police on her. She wasn’t going anywhere, that was until he turned on his sprinkler system. Everything in her wanted to ignore the fact that the dripping wet hair hanging over her eyes and face had her standing there looking like a deranged, psychotic stalker. But, she couldn’t ignore it. While the downpour of water soaked into her clothes and washed away all of her hopes, tears soaked her face and Tiffany realized that she had officially hit an all-time low.
With sulking shoulders, Tiffany stomped back to her SUV. She hadn’t thought about any outcomes. As a matter of fact, she hadn’t thought at all. She just loved. She loved hard. Tiffany had given Keith the best six years of her life.
“It’s my fault,” Tiffany whispered in defeat. She shifted her weight in her bed and adjusted the elevation of her remote-controlled mattress. She’d already been in bed all day Monday and Tuesday. She’d rejected and ignored every telephone call, email, and text. She’d only picked up the phone once and that was to call the office claiming to be sick. It wasn’t a complete lie, because she did feel like she was dying. Tiffany hadn’t had a single bite to eat; in fact the only time she’d moved was to use the restroom and to grab more tissue for her tears.
Maybe I shouldn’t have worked as many hours last week, or maybe I should’ve cooked more often. Or maybe I should’ve given Keith half of the house deposit like he’d suggested, then maybe I’d be living there with him and none of this would’ve happened. Did I do enough?
These were the things that played over and over in Tiffany’s mind. And even though she had not gotten any definite answers from repeatedly asking herself the same antagonizing questions, she knew one thing. It was her fault that Keith had cheated.
“I hate him. I hate my boyfriend,” Tiffany fussed and rolled out of bed, dragging herself to the restroom. “He’s not your man, he’s your… ” She stopped mid-sentence and plopped down on the commode. She was frustrated. She had called Keith everything from an excuse maker to an extremely unfaithful jerk, but even with their history and his constant infidelity proving that he had never been exclusively hers, she still couldn’t bring herself to call him that two letter word, her EX. It just didn’t make sense. And that’s what had Tiffany still sitting there when she heard someone calling her name. Keith.
The knocking at the door was like a drum, and Tiffany was drawn to its rhythm. She hurried up, left the restroom, fixed her sloppy ponytail, and ran full speed toward the front door. Keith was screaming and knocking and Tiffany’s nerves made her struggle to unlock the door. It never once occurred to her why he was there, all that mattered was that he was there.
Tiffany took one more hard suck on the peppermint she’d grabbed from the hallway table. She hadn’t brushed her teeth in three days and just in case Keith greeted her with a kiss she wanted to be ready
Tiffany, stop! He cheated on you! She reminded herself. Attitude, girl, attitude! She swung the door open.
“Keith, what are you doing here? I hope you don’t think you can just come over here and… don’t you know I am the best…”
“Best thing I’ve ever had. I know. I miss you. I love you,” Keith interrupted.
And that’s all it took. Tiffany couldn’t speak. Her neck had stopped rolling and her finger had stopped pointing. With just those words, she had drowned in the sea of sexiness standing in front of her. She examined his face; his eyes looked as if he, too, hadn’t slept much in the past few days. It looked like he’d grown a few more gray strands of hair in his perfectly lined goatee. The grays didn’t age him one bit, but gave him a distinguished look that drove Tiffany crazy. And that’s just what she was…crazy. She took three steps backward to keep from falling into his arms. But Keith moved in closer and towering over her five-foot stature, he leaned down, and with his lips, he literally took the life right out of her.
Tiffany didn’t know what happened next. Somewhere between Keith giving his sad “I’m sorry… she is just a friend… you caught me off guard… I just didn’t want things to escalate any further” apology, the past no longer mattered. Keith grabbed her hand and led her to the shower.
Thirty minutes later Tiffany was clean, refreshed, and satisfied. She rolled over and kissed Keith’s forehead. No side chick or one-night stand could ever replace what they shared. Things were going to be better this time. Why? Because the two of them had history and a bond that couldn’t be broken. Keith was genuinely sorry, and despite his slip ups, she was and would always be the best thing that ever happened to him. Point blank. Period.
Lord knows I should’ve filled out one of those blue prayer cards again, but I’m tired. Church service was almost over and Tiffany had sent up a few extra prayers this particular Sunday.
Tiffany shifted sideways in her seat and turned up her lips as her stomach summersaulted in disgust. It wasn’t enough that the elderly usher standing at the end of the pew beside her smelled like a mixture of evergreen, Vicks salve, and mothballs, but Tiffany was also disgusted because over the past four months, not much had changed with her and Keith. They argued every day; they’d only gone out once. Things were just as bad, if not worse than before the incident at his house. Keith wasn’t as affectionate as he’d been and he was away on business a lot.
“Lord, help,” she whispered.
Tiffany tapped the hand of the usher and signaled for a prayer card. That was one of the traditions at the church where she regularly attended with Keith. Every Sunday morning, two baskets were passed up and down each pew. The first basket was for tithes and offerings, and the second was for prayer requests. Tiffany had probably placed over three hundred cards in that basket over the past six years, anonymously of course. She figured that whoever read hers either didn’t have a direct communication line to God or maybe they just read her cards for sheer entertainment. Still, Tiffany filled out her card and thought about the numerous times she’d begged Keith to write down prayers for their relationship, to no avail. She’d just have to pray harder for them both, she told herself.
The basket stopped in front of her, Keith leaned into her ear, “Did you say a prayer for me, Baby?”
Tiffany dropped the card and as Keith wrapped his arm around her, she nestled in beneath him. Had her prayer been answered that quickly?
After the deacon prayed, Keith gently guided Tiffany down the center aisle to the altar. Tiffany smiled. Why did it have to feel so good having Keith’s palm resting on the lower part of her back? She knew God himself couldn’t be happy with the distracting thoughts in her mind. But, she couldn’t help but count her blessings. Regardless of the uneasiness she’d been feeling lately, all that mattered was that she was with Keith, in the House of God, holding hands during family prayer. FAMILY. No matter what or who came and went, Keith was her family. Her soon-to-be husband.
Their pastor had just finished praying for newlyweds when he was led to say a special prayer for all couples considering marriage. And that’s when Tiffany’s confirmation from God came in an unexpected way. When the preacher quoted “He who finds a wife, finds a good thing,” Keith not only said, “Amen,” but he squeezed her hand. That was all the hope Tiffany needed.
Tiffany burst into tears. As the preacher finished praying, she prayed along with him. She prayed for forgiveness for not having enough faith in God and His promise to give her the desires of her heart. Despite the affairs and separations, the desire of her heart was standing beside her and gripping her hand. Tiffany’s loud prayers blended with wedding colors, numbers of bridesmaids, November or maybe December wedding, and if she’d calculated correctly, she and Keith should be married in approximately five months, three days, four…
“Tiffany! Tiffany!” Keith called to her as he shook her arm.
“I do,” Tiffany answered, then snapped back to the altar where she and Keith were the last two people left standing. “I do love you, Jesus,” she quickly said, trying to recover from her gaffe.
Tiffany had drifted off to another place and didn’t realize that altar call was over.
Keith’s eyes shifted between the pastor and Tiffany. With force and embarrassment he pulled Tiffany back to their pew, and she gladly followed her man. None of the side-eyed stares mattered. As she sat down beside him, she thought of all the wedding planning she’d do while Keith was away on business for the next three weeks.
As the choir sang, rocked, and brought the congregation to their feet, Tiffany made sure she gave an extra praise for the miracle that was being performed in her love life. She clapped, bounced, and rejoiced at the thought of finally becoming Mrs. Keith Fredricks.
The Ex Chronicles Page 6