Big Girls Do Cry

by Carl Weber

  I picked out the cutest and most high-end clothes I could find.

  When Egypt protested, Rashad said, “Let her get them.”

  After I had tried on many outfits, I said, “Ooh, Egypt, I’m so thirsty. Could you go buy me a lemonade at the lemonade shop next door?”

  While she was gone, I got a whiff of some fresh pastries. “Rashad, you think you could go get me a Krispy Kreme donut over across the way? I’m already getting cravings. I’m almost sure this is it.”

  Rashad grinned and nodded, then left to get my food.

  I almost laughed out loud. I had both of them at my beck and call, and I wasn’t even pregnant for sure yet. I started daydreaming about what it would be like when I did conceive. And if we found out it was a boy, then that would be even better. Rashad was already acting a fool, so I knew I’d have him wrapped around my finger once the baby was on the way. After that, I could promise him more kids, and he would definitely want to leave Egypt. Yeah, things were certainly looking up for me.

  Loraine

  23

  It was five in the morning when I tiptoed nervously up the stairs, carrying my heels in hand. I’d just come back from the waterfall with Terrance, where we’d made love on a blanket under the stars. It was the most memorable night I’d spent in a very long time.

  The sex was good—not earth-shattering, but good. It could have been much better if I hadn’t been so distracted with guilt over cheating on Leon. As much as I wanted to get even with him, a part of me still couldn’t get past the fact that I was breaking vows that were meant to be honored for life.

  I had to give Terrance an A for effort, though. I think he sensed my hesitation, and he sure as hell tried his best to make me see stars. He came damn close too. Regrettably, every time I was on the verge of climaxing, I’d think of Leon. Talk about a mood killer. What that told me was something I already knew: I loved Leon, and deep down inside, I wished it was him who was making me feel that way. I’ll tell you, trying to have revenge sex wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

  Now that I was home and the thrill of the moment was gone, I was kind of glad I didn’t have an orgasm with Terrance. If he had made me come, I might have been, for lack of a better word, wide open. That would not have been a good thing, because in spite of everything, I really did want my marriage to last. But I was also smart enough to realize I’d been so starved for attention that it would be easy to become attached to a man who could bring me the physical joy Leon hadn’t cared enough to give lately. Jerome always liked to say, “It’s easy to confuse good sex with love,” and at this point, a good orgasm might have had me falling head over heels for someone who was not my husband.

  So, I came home feeling like I’d accomplished my mission. I’d set out to get even in order to move on with my life and my marriage. He’d cheated; now I’d cheated, so we were even, although he’d never know it. I wasn’t going to step outside my marriage again—not unless Leon gave me a good reason. As much fun as it was, it just wasn’t me.

  When I walked into our bedroom, Leon appeared to be fast asleep. It was times like these I wished he snored so I could be sure. I glanced across the room to the bathroom door. All I had to do was make it fifteen feet, and I’d be home free. I needed a shower in the worst way. Not that Terrance was a dirty man, but I felt like his scent was all over me. It was a mixture of sweat, sex, and his coconut body oil. I kind of liked it, but I was sure Leon wouldn’t find it very appealing, so I headed for the bathroom and a hot shower. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to walk three feet, let alone fifteen, before I heard the ruffling of sheets.

  “Loraine?”

  I froze in my tracks, turning my head toward the bed. Leon sat up like he’d been awake, waiting for me all night. Please, don’t come over here. Please, don’t come over here. The absolute last thing I wanted was for him to get too close before I had a chance to shower.

  “Hey, baby, what you doing up?”

  “Waiting for you. A little late, isn’t it?” He glanced over at the clock radio. “It’s five o’clock in the morning. Did you forget you have a home?”

  “No, I was out with Jerome. We went down to the NCO Club at Fort Lee.” I tried to answer casually, but if I sounded half as nervous as I felt, he was going to see right through me.

  “The NCO Club closes at two. Mind telling me where you been?” The tone of his voice made me feel like he knew exactly where I’d been and what I’d been doing. I racked my brain trying to remember if there was anyone in the club who looked familiar, someone who might have called Leon to tell him about the man I was hugged up with on the dance floor.

  “We went to the Waffle House to get something to eat. I guess I lost track of time.” I turned to head for the shower, hoping our conversation was over.

  But it wasn’t. “The Waffle House, huh?” he said skeptically.

  I faced him again and crossed my arms over my chest. I tried to sound exasperated by his questions. “Yes, Leon, me and my gay friend went to the Waffle House. Do you have some sort of problem with that?”

  “No, I just—”

  “Oh, I see. You afraid some man other than you might see me and want me?” He looked a little taken aback by my change in demeanor, and I suddenly felt empowered as I realized how well this tactic was working. “All right, I was in a secluded park screwing some man under the stars. That make you feel any better? Would you like some details?”

  Okay, for the record, I couldn’t believe I’d just said that either. But the way things were going, he wasn’t about to let up, so I took a page from the playbook used by so many cheating men: Go on the offensive and take the focus off yourself, quick. I’d just taken it one step further by admitting the truth, without him realizing I was admitting the truth. Pretty good reverse psychology, don’t you think?

  He tried to play it off with a laugh. “No, I’m not afraid of anything.” Then he tried to assert his manliness one more time. “But you got a home. Don’t come through that door after three in the morning again, or—”

  “Or what?” My defiance was no longer part of an act. Husband or not, I hated when people threatened me. “I’m a grownass woman, and I stopped having curfews when I was eighteen.”

  “No wife of mine is going to be running the streets until five o’clock in the morning. Or have you stopped being my wife too?”

  Uh-oh, he was taking this in a direction I didn’t want to go. This was not the time for a long discussion about the state of our marriage, especially not when I was still covered in the scent of another man.

  “Leon, it’s late. I’m tired. I wanna take a shower and go to bed. I don’t wanna argue with you.” I started to walk toward the bathroom, but he pulled the sheets back and stepped out of bed.

  “Well, I do.”

  I was struggling to keep calm, but his voice had taken on a little too much bass, and I was afraid this might escalate into something physical in a hurry. I stepped into the bathroom, but he was right behind me.

  “If we have to argue to get this thing straight, then we will.”

  “What do you want from me, Leon?” I was leaning against the sink, still trying to keep my distance.

  “I love you, Loraine. I want my wife back.”

  I had to pause for a moment, because I was so confused by his sudden change. I fully expected the screaming to start at any moment, but all of a sudden, he was speaking to me almost like he might start crying or something.

  Then it dawned on me that he might be faking. Maybe this was some sort of trick. Maybe he knew something, and he thought that he could lull me into confessing if he faked vulnerability. I decided my best plan of action was to stay the course. If I changed my attitude and showed some weakness now, he would know something was up.

  “Oh, now you want your wife back. You should have thought about that before your nasty-ass bitch left her panties in my bed.”

  He raised his hand, still with that sad look in his eyes. “Loraine, I swear on my dead grandmother, I have
no idea where those panties came from.” Wow, he was really working hard. He never swore on his grandmother—unless he really wanted me to believe him. Too bad I didn’t.

  “So, what, did I pull those panties out my ass or something? Where did they come from?” Every time I talked about those damn panties, it brought me right back to the moment I found them.

  “I don’t know.” He had the nerve to sound aggravated, and I was about to go off on him for it, but just that quick, he switched gears again. “I really don’t know, but what I do know is that I love you, Loraine. I love you, and I don’t want to lose you. Please don’t throw this marriage away.”

  I looked in his eyes. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he was telling the truth. I guess that’s when my conscience kicked in. What was I getting so upset about? I’d had my night of passion with a hot young man. I’d gotten my revenge. No need to take things too far when I wasn’t entirely innocent myself anymore. Besides, this was the first time in more than a year that he’d said he loved me without me having to say it first.

  “Loraine, I don’t want to fight anymore.” He sounded sincere.

  “Neither do I.”

  “I love you. Do you still love me?” He may not have been telling the truth about the panties, but I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe he loved me, and only me.

  “I never stopped loving you. I just want the old Leon back.”

  He smiled. So did I, and for that moment, we were connected in a way we hadn’t been in a long time. He closed the distance between us, reaching out his hand. I took it, and he pulled me in close, holding me tight.

  “I love you so much.”

  “I love you too.” He started to kiss my neck and ears, and it felt so damn good.

  I was totally lost in the moment; I’d completely forgotten that I still hadn’t showered, until he said, “Mmmm, you smell so good. Is that a new perfume?”

  Suddenly I felt nauseated. My back stiffened, and my eyes were now wide open. I could feel his tongue licking my neck. What usually turned me on was making me feel sick to my stomach. I didn’t know where he was mentally, but I sure as hell wasn’t enjoying this anymore.

  I tried to push him off me, but he wouldn’t let go. “Baby, let me go take a shower, and I’ll be right back, okay?”

  “You ain’t going nowhere. I want you just the way you are.” I felt one hand slide under my blouse to fondle my breast as the other unzipped my skirt from behind. His hands were in so many places; he was like an octopus.

  “Baby, please let me take a shower. I’ve been at the club dancing, and everything is sweaty—including down there,” I added for emphasis. I took hold of the hand going into my skirt to stop him.

  “When we finish, we can take a shower together. Come on, Big Sexy. When we first met, we used to have sex the second we hit the door after a night of dancing.” He was determined. The hand that was in my blouse was now pushing down my skirt below my hips.

  Dear Lord, I did not want to have sex with Leon after I’d just had sex with another man. That would be too nasty. But the way he’d just professed his love to me, how could I tell him no? Besides, we hadn’t had sex in almost three weeks. If I turned him down, he’d get suspicious.

  “Leon, please. I just want to take a shower.” By now my skirt had hit the floor, and my panties weren’t far behind. I tried once again to push him away, to no avail.

  “I don’t care if you’re a little funky down there. When we got married, you said this was my pussy and I could have it anytime I wanted. Well, I want some now.”

  How the hell was I supposed to respond to that? Think, Loraine, think. It was times like these I wished I could phone a friend. I was sure Jerome could help me find a way out of this mess.

  And there it was, the answer to my problem. As soon as Jerome entered my mind, I knew exactly what his advice would be. He’d say, Get on your knees and suck his dick. A good blow job will put his ass right to sleep. I was going to have to buy Jerome lunch on Monday. He was helpful even when he wasn’t around.

  I hadn’t given Leon a blow job in quite some time, even though I did enjoy giving them. I loved the power it gave me over a man. And I must admit I’d become pretty skilled at giving head after Jerome showed me how to deep-throat a banana about seven, eight years ago. When we first got married, I would have Leon doing the Spider-Man, I would suck his stuff so well. Then, around the time Leon started with his pre-ejaculation nonsense, Jerome suggested I stop giving him blow jobs. He said that sucking on him before we had intercourse may have had a lot to do with his lack of staying power. I was desperate for a solution, so no more blow jobs for Leon. Unfortunately, I don’t think he even noticed as long as he got his shit off, and after a while, neither did I.

  “Okay, Leon. You want me, you got me. But first you gotta let Momma suck on her chocolate lollipop first.”

  I guess Jerome was right; men don’t turn down blow jobs, because Leon let me go right away, grinning from ear to ear. I reached down to the thin material of his pajama pants and pulled them down. Out sprang Mr. Man, who I very eagerly took hold of as I slid to my knees.

  Less than five minutes later, I was in the shower and Leon was in the bed fast asleep.

  Isis

  24

  I’d just come out of the shower, my body wrapped in a large bath towel, when I heard Rashad’s car pull into the garage. He’d probably gone down to the 7-Eleven to get the morning newspaper and some coffee. I hurried downstairs to the family room so I could greet him with good news. Minutes before, I’d taken my temperature, and from all indications, I was ovulating, which was important if I was ever going to get pregnant. We’d all been disappointed when my period showed up a few weeks after my first insemination, but this time, I was determined things were going to be different.

  For starters, Rashad and I were the ones who were going to deal with the doctors alone, without Ms. Micromanager, who had gone on a business trip to Virginia Beach for the weekend. Now, for the first time in two months, I didn’t have to worry about Egypt hovering over me and worrying me to death about how much sleep I was getting or what foods I could eat. Ever since we started this artificial-insemination process, she’d been dictating like she owned my womb or something.

  “Rashad!” I yelled as soon as I heard the door open, startling him so much that he almost dropped one of the two coffee cups he was carrying.

  “Hey, Isis, I brought you some coffee,” he said casually, as if I weren’t standing in front of him practically naked. I had to stop myself from smirking, because I knew he was dying to rip the towel off me. I’d always loved teasing him. It made our sex that much more passionate. The only difference this time was that he was trying to be somewhat well behaved because he was married, so it would take a little more work to get him to loosen up. That was no problem, though. I had a plan that was sure to be successful.

  “Thanks, but guess what?” I said, holding out a thermometer for him to see.

  “Oh, Lord. You’re not sick, are you?” The look of concern on his face was sweet.

  “No, silly. This is a good thing. I’ve been tracking my temperature ever since I got my period two weeks ago, and this means I’m ovulating.”

  “Oh, shit. For real?”

  “Look for yourself.” I waved the thermometer in his face. Conveniently, my towel dropped from around me. “Oops.” I pretended to try to stop it from falling, but when it hit the ground, I waited a few seconds so he could get a good view before I bent over to pick it up. I wrapped myself up again, leaving the towel low enough that my breasts were practically spilling over the top. Then I acted like nothing had happened, bringing his attention back to the thermometer.

  “You see what I mean? Ninety-nine point one.”

  Just as I’d expected, Rashad’s eyes were not fixated anywhere near the thermometer. They were glued on my DDD breasts as if he had forgotten just how perfect they were.

  “Boy, you better give me one of those cups before yo
u make a mess.” I casually took a coffee out of his hands, then glanced at his crotch, where his penis was bulging against the material of his sweatpants. I turned around to set the coffee cup on an end table, bending extra low so he could get a good view between my legs.

  My plan was working perfectly. He wanted me as bad as I wanted him, but I still had to play along with this charade. If I jumped on him now and he started feeling guilty later, he would blame the whole thing on me. I was not about to have this explode in my face. No, I would just have to entice him until he made the decision on his own to come back to me.

  “Umm, don’t you think you should go put some clothes on?” His voice had taken on a lower tone—one I remembered well from the past. He was trying to keep his composure, but it wasn’t working, because his hard dick had already given him away.

  “Stop trippin’, Rashad. Ain’t nothing here you ain’t seen before,” I said flippantly.

  “That was then and this is now. Things are different and you know it. Now, go cover yourself up.” It was cute the way he was trying to act all faithful and everything. He might do a better job if he kept his eyes off my titties, though.

  “Fine, I’ll cover up,” I said as he sat on the sofa.

  Instead of leaving the room to get dressed, I sat back on the arm of the sofa next to him. He sighed, but I knew it was just to hide the fact that he was dying to reach out and touch me. Mr. Cover Yourself kept stealing glances at my breasts as I spoke to him.

  “So, you still didn’t tell me. What should we do about the fact that I’m ovulating?”

  “Oh, shit, that’s right. We better hurry up and get you to the clinic.” He tried to stand up, but I placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him in his seat.

  “Yes, we should, but it’s Saturday. The clinic is closed.”

  “Damn.” His face fell.

  I felt a little bad that he looked so disappointed, but it had to be done this way for my plan to work. This was the one good thing about Egypt being so controlling. Rashad let her handle all the details. She would have known that the clinic always had someone on call in case you were ovulating during hours they were closed. Rashad, on the other hand, didn’t know this, which was just how I wanted it.