Ex-Terminator Life After Marriage

by Suzetta Perkins

  “After working for several software companies, I branched out and started my own: Thomas Technology Solutions. I have been very fortunate, and I don’t apologize for saying I owe everything that I am and that I have to God.”

  “All right, now. That’s what I’m talking about,” Rachel said. “Me and my God.”

  Marvin studied Rachel for a moment before continuing with his story.

  “I don’t want you ladies to get any ideas or think I’ve got my nose up in the air. I suddenly feel like sharing how good God has been to me. Not only did He bless me with the opportunity to start my own firm, but within a two-year time frame, I was able to enjoy a healthy income of $500,000 a year and maintain a portfolio of stocks, bonds, and mutual funds.”

  “Every girl needs to know that her man has bank,” Claudette interjected. “I ain’t mad at ya. Wouldn’t mind sharing it with you.” She batted her eyes. “Sorry for the interruption.”

  Marvin smirked. He didn’t like loud-talking women. Claudette was the kind that would have your business on the gossip net, telling every head she shampooed what her man had done for her. He shook her image from his mind.

  “After my business took off and I was in the best financial position I had been in a long time,” Marvin began, “I knew that my life was not complete. I was a hardworking Black man whose ultimate goal was to reach the pinnacle of his career but I needed that someone to share it with. I hadn’t dated much and wasn’t sure if my old lines were still twenty-first century.”

  Rachel smiled.

  “I met my ex-wife, Denise, while on a speaking engagement in New York. When I laid eyes on her, I immediately fell in love. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of that girl. We corresponded for a month or two, but found that we couldn’t be away from each other. After a six-month romance, I proposed.

  “Denise is very attractive, sophisticated—and very high maintenance. She has her hair, nails and feet done every week. Even after I married her, I showered her with gifts from the best stores, wined and dined her at the most fabulous restaurants, bought her the most elegant home in the most upscale neighborhood. But what I really wanted was children, and every time I approached Denise about it, she kept putting me on hold…her career, her figure…”

  “I understand that sister,” Mona said, cutting in on Marvin’s train of thought.

  “It would have been all right, Mona, if my wife hadn’t assured me before we got married that she wanted children as much as I did and that she would be more than happy to be our baby’s mother. I’m not a nag, and I didn’t want to start being one. I had given my heart and soul to this woman…not just to please her but because I wanted to give her the best of me.

  “My sisters told me I was a fool to lavish her with everything she wanted and everything I wanted her to have. I’m sure Denise came to expect these things, but she was always so appreciative.

  “She missed her friends in New York, though, and the fast-paced life she’d led. She would often fly home to see her family and friends, and while I didn’t begrudge her that, I think I was a little jealous. A couple of times I went with her to New York, as I often made presentations there. Sometimes my business partner, my cousin Harold, would go and that way I had someone looking out for my best interests.

  “Three years passed and no baby. Denise became involved with a lot of the high-society folks in Atlanta and became an event planner for a lot of big names—that’s how I met Mona: She catered a big shindig I had a year-and-a-half ago when my company reached another milestone on our way to Fortune 500 status. Denise was the perfect wife in every way—except for not wanting to disfigure her body for the only gift I ever asked for.

  “About three months after the party, Denise announced that she would be in and out of New York to plan this big celebration for her family reunion because her grandmother was going to be eighty years old. It was a bad time for me to go because I was in negotiations for two lucrative contracts with some major players. Plus, I also had a large contract pending with a major New York corporation about the time Denise was heading that way. I really wanted to be part of closing that deal, but I sent Harold instead since there was no possible way for me to be in two places at one time. Harold had negotiated many contracts for us, so I was very confident in his work.

  “I received a call late on a Thursday afternoon to say that the deal was on but they needed my signature as well as Harold’s and they wanted the ink to be dry by Friday. I had no other recourse than to catch a flight to New York.

  “I flew in and signed the papers before ten a.m. I hadn’t called Denise yet, but I was sure she was staying at our town house on Long Island. I rented a car and set off to find my wife.

  “I arrived at the town house; the parking lot was deserted—it was almost the middle of the day, and I figured everyone was probably at work. I was sure Denise was catching her breath before all the festivities that were to take place that evening.

  “The blinds were still drawn when I entered the town house, even though I thought Denise would be up by now. I dropped my suitcase and briefcase on the floor in the living room and proceeded up the stairs. I walked into the bedroom and could hear the shower running, and I licked my lips in anticipation of jumping in with Denise and kissing her all over. Just as I was about to put my hand on the knob, the door opened and out walked Harold naked as a jaybird, drying his head with a towel.”

  “No!” Mona shrieked. The others gasped.

  “You should have seen the look on my former business partner’s face.Shock wasn’t the word. It wasscared to death . His whole body turned blue-black from fear. It was disgusting to see him that way. I was so angry, if I had a knife I would have done a Lorena Bobbitt on him.

  “But Harold wasn’t the person I came to see. I marched into that bathroom as Denise came out calling Harold’s name. I’m not a violent man—‘God-fearing’ is what my church members say about me. But that was the first time I had hate for Denise—pure, unadulterated hate. I asked her why. Why with Harold? I had given her the world. I never complained about a thing even though there were some things I should have stood my ground about. I loved this woman, and now she had desecrated our marriage, desecrated the vows we made before God and man. I felt as if I was in the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve. I caught both of them in their nakedness. And she claimed she was planning a feast for her family. Yes, she was making a spread all right, but it was her…her…her legs that she was spreading.”

  Marvin’s body began to convulse and he began to cry. “I loved my wife. I was willing to do anything for her. All I wanted was the perfect family,” he wailed. His chest heaved in and out while he gasped for breath.

  “Enough,” Sylvia sighed. She went to Marvin and held him and began to cry, too. Soon there wasn’t a dry eye in the place.

  EX-hale

  Marvin’s testimony zapped all the strength that was left in everyone’s body. Well, almost. Claudette had enough strength left to make it to the patio to light up a cigarette and get in a few puffs. Various conversations about the evening’s events were taking place, but Marvin had put his coat back on and was ready to bid good night.

  Someone tapped his shoulder and he turned around to look into Rachel’s face.

  “You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?” Rachel asked.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I noticed you’re still wearing your wedding ring.”

  “My heart says I do, but every time Harold’s nude body flashes in front of me, I turn into a madman. It’s hard, though, to just forget the good times we shared as husband and wife—even when infidelity’s involved. I read my Bible daily, and I was willing to forgive her, Rachel, but Denise thought it would be better if we dissolved the marriage…she was pregnant with Harold’s baby.”

  Rachel’s face turned from calm to anguish. Her mouth gaped open, but no words came forth. Finally she was able to say, “So, are your wife and Harold together?”

  “No, they aren’t. I find little
comfort in knowing that. Every now and then my sisters give me little tidbits they hear since I bought out Harold and fired him from the company. I have not heard anything about Denise or her baby. If I never see Harold again, I’ll be fine.”

  “I want to thank you all for coming tonight,” Sylvia said. “I’m sure it wasn’t quite what you expected, but it has done me so much good to talk. I hope you feel the same way. We need to meet once a month and chart our progress. If you want to get together in the meantime, I’m open.”

  “Let’s have a ‘ladies’ day at the spa,” Rachel cried out. She turned and looked at Marvin. “I didn’t mean to leave you out; you can go along with us.”

  He chuckled.

  “That sounds like a nice idea, but I’ll pass on the spa. I do have a suggestion, though. Maybe we can do a ski trip this winter. We have five months to plan.”

  “I don’t ski,” Claudette said.

  “I don’t, either, but I’d like to try,” Rachel said. A sly grin crossed her face.

  “I love to ski,” Ashley interjected. “I won’t be able to do any skiing because of the baby, but I’m all for going.”

  “I think that’s a great idea,” Sylvia said. “What about you, Mona?”

  “Whatever the crowd wants to do, I’m in.”

  “Marvin, if you check on the location, cost for transportation and hotel, I’ll do the rest,” Sylvia said. “Is everyone in?”

  “Yes,” everyone agreed.

  “When are we doing the spa thing?” Ashley asked.

  “How about two Fridays from now? We’ll take off from our jobs and make it our day,” Rachel said.

  “I have a doctor’s appointment that day,” Ashley replied. “But I could still join you later in the afternoon.”

  “No,” Sylvia said. “We can change it to another time.”

  “You go on and tell me how it is,” Ashley pressed.

  “I can’t go, either,” Claudette said. “Fridays and Saturdays are my busiest days at the shop.”

  “Okay, everybody. We have a ski trip and a spa day in the works. Now let’sexhale and close the files for tonight,” Sylvia said.

  Everyone thanked her for a great evening. Under the commotion of good-byes, Marvin asked Rachel, “May I walk you to your car?”

  Rachel grinned.

  The Road to Recovery

  Abrilliant sun shone in the spring sky just as the weatherman proclaimed. Temperatures in the high eighties and low nineties were predicted for the week and air conditioners would be working overtime, although it wouldn’t officially be summer for another two weeks.

  Sylvia jumped up from the table with the last of her bagel still in her mouth and an empty coffee cup on the table. She stretched her arms upward to the left, then the right and brought them down slowly in front of her, exhaling as she did. She lifted her arms again and locked them together, twisting her torso from side to side. When she finished her stretches, she walked to the small TV that sat on the brown granite island that sat in the middle of her spacious kitchen.

  The kitchen was a mauve color with black and granite marbleized tiles creating a border between the black electric appliances and the large oak cabinets that adorned the walls. The kitchen boasted a large pantry, large enough for four adults to fit inside.

  Sylvia had enjoyed whipping up gourmet meals for her husband in this kitchen, but today was not about him. For the first time in a long time, Sylvia felt rejuvenated. Last night’s meeting had been a success. It had made Sylvia rethink her present state of mind. Hate, anger and distrust now had been replaced with joy, jubilation and rebirth—blessings.

  T. D. Jakes’ voice came from the TV. She sat down and brought one foot onto the chair and hugged her knee as she listened. She found him captivating and hung on to his every word. He admonished husbands and wives to love each other as Christ loved the church. Love begets love, and when you reward each other you honor God. Sylvia looked away. Then T. D. Jakes’ voice rose to a crescendo. “Women, men who have been betrayed, mistreated, let down, and kicked to the curb by love, get up now and raise your hands toward Heaven, for you have been loosed to love.”

  Sylvia jumped up from her seat and raised her hands. “I’ve been loosed to love,” she repeated over and over. “I’ve been loosed to love.” Again, she felt the high she had experienced the night before. No more pity parties for her. She had just been given the key to new life, new hope and possibly new love if she’d just believe.

  “I’ve got to get up from here and go to church,” she said with enthusiasm.

  Turning off the television, she looked at the digital clock on the microwave. It was ten a.m. She had enough time to make it to Mt. Calvary. Sylvia ran through the shower and put on a loose-fitting, rose-colored, silk chemise and a matching long jacket. A pair of Joan and David rose-colored pumps completed the outfit. She swung her hair from side to side, pleased with Arial’s work. Sylvia applied makeup, took one last look and started to get Adonis’ approval out of habit. She threw her hand forward to dismiss that thought, and walked out of the door.

  Her neighbor, John Hendricks, was mowing his lawn when she exited the house. He nodded in approval. Sylvia smiled back and climbed into her BMW, showing more thigh than she intended. Mr. Hendricks continued to smile until Mrs. Hendricks wandered into the yard with a pair of gardening shears, catching Mr. Hendricks’ attention. Sylvia laughed to herself. Old Mr. Hendricks couldn’t do anything for her even if he was younger and single.

  Church was dismissed, and Sylvia was still in good spirits. The pastor’s sermon, “Don’t Let Satan Steal Your Joy!” was still on her mind. She got in her car, waved to a few acquaintances and drove away.

  Now that she was on her natural high, she wondered what she would do with the rest of the day. Her daughter, Maya, was still playing newlywed with her husband, Carlos, so this was not the time to be around them. She could stop by her parents’ house, but her mother would get on her nerves ten minutes after she arrived.

  She continued to drive and as she saw the after-church crowd—families five to six deep—pile into restaurants for their lunch, loneliness began to tug at her heart. Just at that moment, the pastor’s message flashed by on a marquee in her subconscious: “Don’t Let Satan Steal Your Joy!”

  “It is resolved,” she said aloud. “I’m going to fix myself a great meal and enjoy my own company.”

  Sylvia crinkled her face. There was nothing in her refrigerator except for last night’s leftovers, and she didn’t want that. She saw a Food Lion and pulled in. There were others dressed in Sunday frocks migrating to the store for a last-minute item they had forgotten to get to complete Sunday dinner; Sylvia felt she was in good company.

  Sylvia looked in the rearview mirror and applied a tad bit of lipstick. She always had to look her best. She slid her tongue across her teeth for extra measure and, finding that all was well, got out of the car and headed for the store.

  Colorful vegetables drew Sylvia in. Ogling over them, she touched each one as if it were a cashmere sweater or a pair of Prada boots. Yellow and white onions; red potatoes, sweet potatoes, baking potatoes, white potatoes; romaine and iceberg lettuce—so many varieties to choose from. She had forgotten how many since she ceased shopping the day Adonis walked out of her life. She’d been relying on takeout. That was about to change because she deserved to treat herself to the best, whether she cooked or a handsome gentleman offered to take her to the restaurant of her choice. She picked up some fresh broccoli and put it in her cart.

  Clickety-clackwent the shopping cart as Sylvia glided through the store like she owned it. She rolled past the pork section, the poultry section and stopped in front of the beef section and picked up several porterhouse steaks and a filet mignon. She examined them, finally settling on the filet mignon.

  She wheeled the cart forward, headed for the steak sauce. She moved down the aisle as if she were on a mission and nearly bumped into her pastor.

  “My, Sister St. James, we’re in a bit o
f a hurry,” Pastor Orlando Goodwin said.

  “I’m so sorry, Pastor. My mind was on what I needed at the moment so I could hurry up and get out of here. I really enjoyed the sermon this morning.”

  “Well, thank you, Sister. And how have you been doing? I haven’t talked with you much, especially since your divorce.”

  “I’ve been doing pretty good. I have a support group that started, and I think it’s going to be a great help to me as well as others.”

  “Umm, a support group for divorced women. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but quite a few of our young people are opting for divorce instead of trying to make a go of their marriage. It’s so sad.”

  “I know. Marriage doesn’t seem to have the same staying power it did in our parents’ generation.”

  “You’ve got me to thinking. I’d like for you to stop by my office next week. Call my secretary, Louise, and make an appointment. I think you can be an asset to the young women in our church.”

  “Okay, Pastor. I’ll do that. Have a good day, and give my regards to Sister Goodwin.”

  “I will.”

  Sylvia watched Pastor Goodwin until he wheeled his cart off the row. A smile illuminated her face as she stood in the middle of the aisle digesting his request.He’s going to ask me to start a support group at church, she thought. She barely had her own life together, but if this was God’s way to help her through her trials, she was going to let Him help. She felt good and wheeled her cart to the frozen food section.

  “Dessert to top it off,” she said aloud to no one.

  Sylvia leaned over the refrigerated bin and pulled out a Turtle Pie—full of calories and chocolate.

  “Dessert would be nice,” came a familiar voice that made Sylvia nearly topple over into the bin.