Four: Stories of Marriage

by Nia Forrester

  Brendan waited only three minutes before someone appeared. Even though cloudy and indistinct through the stained glass, it was definitely Mila.

  She opened the doors until she and Brendan were only separated by the gate, and it was then that he saw that her jaw was swollen on the righthand side. His surprise must have showed on his face because Mila gave a wry smile.

  “Turns out that white girl can fight,” she said, as she unlocked the final barrier. “Who knew?”

  Brendan looked at her, saying nothing.

  “You’re here, so I guess you heard.” Her voice was flat.

  Wearing a pink Juicy Couture sweat-suit and with her hair up in a messy ponytail, Mila looked like any woman might, chilling around the house. There was nothing in her demeanor to suggest she was at all shaken up from having been clocked in the face and incarcerated, however briefly.

  “Where’s Justin?” Brendan asked.

  Mila stepped aside to admit him into the foyer. “You’re not gon’ fire him, are you?”

  “Yup.” Brendan made a popping sound with his lips.

  “Brendan,” Mila said imploringly. “How long we known each other?”

  “A good long while. So, you know that when I’m playin’ it’s clear that I’m playin’. And when I’m not? That’s clear too.”

  “Over something I did?” Mila demanded, arms akimbo. “You’re firing him over something I did.”

  “If I could fire your ass, Mila, I would.”

  Jamila rolled her eyes and turned toward the stairs. “Justin!” she yelled.

  Then, giving Brendan one last dirty look, she sauntered out of the room and toward the rear of the townhouse.

  Seeing who was waiting for him, Justin paused at the top of the stairs and took a deep breath before descending. He, like Mila was dressed in sweats, but with a white undershirt. He looked like crap.

  “Lemme grab some shoes, man,” he said when they were standing face to face. “I think we better walk the block for this conversation.”

  Once they were two houses away, Justin spoke first.

  “I fucked her.”

  Brendan exhaled a rush of breath. “Man …”

  “I know,” Justin said. “I know. But it was like a non-event. Just …”

  “Why, man? For what?”

  “I don’t know. The novelty, I guess. I mean, look at her.”

  “Yeah. Well, you know what has to happen now, right?”

  “Yeah. But if you could give me a break and lemme keep the severance package …”

  “I’m suspending you, Justin. I’m not letting you go.”

  Justin stopped walking. “You’re n…”

  “I should. But in case she comes at us with some harassment mess, I don’t want it looking like I fired you because you did something wrong. As far as I know, what happened with you and Simone was consensual. I mean … it was consensual, right?”

  “Of course, man! Of course.”

  “You lied to me before … Is the shit done, or …?”

  “Yeah. It’s been done. It never got started. It was just one of those late night at the office type things where nobody even got fully undressed. Just some …”

  “Why though, man? I mean it. Mila’s ass is high-strung as fuck, but that woman would do anything for you. She would kill for you.”

  Justin gave a laugh. “She sure tried.”

  “You think this is a joke?”

  “Nah.”

  “You got a family, man. How you gon’ let anything come before that?”

  “I didn’t. I don’t. Nothing comes before my wife. And that’s word.”

  “For real? You got a funny way of …”

  Brendan stopped, mid-sentence, and mid-step.

  Justin stopped walking as well and stared at him. “B, you a’ight?”

  Brendan turned away from him.

  “Thirty days,” he said, looking over his shoulder as he trotted toward his car. “I don’t want to see you back at the office till that time is up. And if I hear you been in touch with Simone Wolfe for any reason, I will throw your ass in the Hudson River. And then fire you for real.”

  22

  We should have done this sooner, huh baby? Look at that!”

  Tracy clutched Layla against her, masking her own apprehension by pretending to marvel at the view from the helicopter. Layla was holding on to her just as tightly, her eyes wide with amazement rather than the terror Tracy was feeling. If she, Layla and her unborn baby died in this thing, it would serve Brendan right.

  That was a terrible thing to think. She didn’t want to die, of course. Just make him suffer a tiny bit. And if anything happened to her and Layla and the baby, her husband wouldn’t suffer a ‘tiny bit’, he would never recover. She knew that. Even if he had been selfish enough to go running off on some non-errand in the middle of a family vacation, she knew they were his world.

  Tracy was actually quite proud of how she’d taken it. When Shawn delivered the news about Brendan taking off—without telling her first, no less—she had responded calmly. At first. And then she decided that if he wasn’t going to participate in the family getaway, there was no point in having one, and she and Layla may as well go home.

  Rather than impose on someone to drive them back, she’d asked Chris to book them a charter flight with Blade. Just half an hour and they would be back in Midtown, and she and Layla would go to the condo for the night, and then to Brooklyn in the morning.

  Leave Lay-Lay at least! Riley pleaded before they left. We’ll take her back with us. She’s having such a good time.

  But Tracy declined. She had spent too much time away from her daughter as it was. When they got back to the condo, she would order in, and call the grocery around the corner to deliver ice cream and treats. She and Layla would have a night together in bed, eating poorly and watching television.

  Tracy expected that sooner or later Brendan would figure out where they were, or Shawn would tell him. But she didn’t need to worry about that. He’d made his choice when he decided to take care of work first. And she was making hers—quiet time with her baby girl, who for the time being was an only child.

  Involuntarily, Tracy’s hand fell to her still flat abdomen, and she smiled. Sometimes, she thought she felt a tiny flutter, but it was far too soon for that, so it was probably just butterflies, the excitement at being a mother again. Maybe that was why she wasn’t really angry with Brendan; she was too happy.

  Or maybe, all her work with Dr. Greer was paying off after all.

  Layla loved the condo. Even though they seldom took her there anymore, she enjoyed it whenever they did. Brendan joked that she thought it was a hotel. This time, as soon as they crossed the threshold and the door was shut, she tugged her hand free of Tracy’s and ran toward the spiral staircase that led to the loft, beginning to climb it.

  “Up!” she squealed, like someone about to go on a carnival ride. “I want to go up!”

  “Wait, baby!” Tracy said, dropping their bags.

  Visions of her daughter in a crumpled heap at the bottom, with a broken arm or worse, sent her charging after Layla just as she made it up the first two steps. The sound of her mother’s voice caused her to hesitate, and she looked over her shoulder with wide eyes, waiting to hear what the source of danger was.

  “Take your time,” Tracy said, forcing herself to be calm. “You can do it, but you have to be careful.”

  And then she stood at the bottom, waiting until Layla climbed two more steps, then a third, and then a fourth. She followed her, a few steps behind, maintaining a smile so that Layla would not see her nervousness. But at the top of the staircase, she couldn’t help but exhale a long, shuddering breath.

  “Good job!” she said with feigned cheerfulness. “Look what you did. All by yourself!”

  Layla smiled and ran over to the living area, climbing onto one of the sofas, and sitting on it with her arms and legs spread. Her dirty sandals smudged the fabric, as she bounced up and down, openin
g and shutting her legs like someone making a snow angel.

  Turning away, Tracy went to see what was in the fridge. It had only been a few days since she’d been here, so it wouldn’t be empty, but the likelihood of there being juice boxes was slim to none. While living here, Tracy had subsisted on little more than wine, water and coffee. She was right. There was little in the fridge that would be suitable for her child. So, she reached for the phone and prepared to order dinner.

  After ordering their food, Tracy carried Layla back downstairs where she stripped them both down and led her daughter into the shower, because there was no bathtub in the condo. Though it had only been about five hours since they’d both gotten ready for the beach party, there had been time in the sand for Layla, and a sweaty forty-five-minute wait before they got their charter flight.

  Putting shower caps on them both and turning the water on the rainfall setting, Tracy let Layla play, and run in circles in the large shower while she got clean. Then she handed her daughter her washrag and showed her how to mimic what momma did to get clean. By the time they were done, and getting wrapped up in towels, Tracy could see that her daughter was going to be asleep before the sun went down.

  And sure enough, Layla’s eyes grew heavy as Tracy dried her, and were completely shut by the time she pulled her favorite pink princess nightie over her head. Moving Layla to the center of the bed, Tracy sat on the edge and put on her lotion, braided her hair and turned on the television, keeping the volume low.

  Well, so be it. She would have a quiet night at home with only herself for company.

  That was alright, too.

  Just as she was pulling on a pair of black leggings, remembering that she would have to greet the delivery person or concierge at the door, she heard the sound of keys, and then the door opening and shutting once again.

  Before she had a chance to compose herself, she looked up and there he was.

  When Tracy’s phone kept sending him to voicemail, Brendan called Riley. And it took some doing to get her as well. He was already on the Southern State Parkway when she finally picked up and let him know.

  She’s gone, she said. Took Layla about an hour and a half ago or so?

  What do you mean took her?

  Home, Riley said. She said she was going home.

  And then it was a toss-up, deciding which of their homes Tracy might have gone to.

  The condo, I think, Riley said, ending the suspense. Because she took a Blade charter into the city.

  She took a ‘copter?

  Yup. I guess she really wanted to get out of here, Riley said with only the slightest bit of reproach in her tone.

  It had taken him almost another hour to get to Manhattan. After he parked, and on the way up to the condo, he’d run into a delivery guy in the elevator, and realized they were headed to the same place. Brendan paid the guy and took the bags, one of which contained Thai food, and the other, two cartons of Thai rolled ice cream.

  Leaving them in the foyer, he headed for the bedroom, not sure what the temperature would be when he encountered his wife.

  Tracy looked up as he entered, mild surprise in her eyes, but nothing like displeasure. In fact, she looked happy to see him.

  In the center of the enormous bed, their daughter lay, spread out on her back like a starfish, her hair fanned around her. She was the color of cinnamon, and her pink bud of a mouth was open while she slept. Her chubby feet were bare, and looked to Brendan so, so small.

  He stared at her for a few moments and his eyes welled up from a feeling so strong that it felt like a punch to the gut. Layla Marie Cole was beautiful, like her momma. Getting her here had been arduous, but now, he couldn’t imagine life without her.

  Tracy followed his gaze, glancing over her shoulder.

  “We took a shower and she was out like that,” Tracy said snapping her fingers. “I don’t think even the smell of dinner is going to wake her. That is the smell of dinner, right?”

  She rose from the bed and tried to walk past him, but Brendan grabbed her by the waist.

  “Hey,” he began. “Look …”

  “Brendan …” Tracy leaned against his arm. “It’s … I don’t feel like having this conversation again, do you?”

  “It doesn’t have to be a conversation, I was just going to say …”

  “That you’re sorry. That you really do mean to put me and Layla first. That your mission back into the city was important and couldn’t be avoided. I know what you were going to say.”

  He looked at her, momentarily silenced. Not just because she had taken the words out of his mouth, but because of the way she’d said them. She sounded weary. The way he used to sound. And yet, not pissed. She wasn’t angry at all, she was earnestly, honestly sick of having this conversation.

  “Let’s just have dinner,” she said, prying herself loose, and heading out to the sitting room. “There’s more than enough for both of us.”

  They ate downstairs, in case Layla woke up looking for them. After putting the ice cream away, Tracy brought utensils downstairs and they ate directly from the cartons, sitting opposite each other. With feet up on the coffee table, Tracy babbled about the beach party, about how much she liked Turner’s new girlfriend, and her suspicion that something was going on with Shawn and Riley.

  Brendan watched her, but she didn’t seem to be holding a grudge about him having left Southampton and causing their time away to be cut short. He listened until he couldn’t stand it anymore and had to bring it up again.

  “Why didn’t you just stay since you were having a good time?” Brendan asked.

  “Why do you think?” she asked, sucking a long rice noodle between her lips, leaving a ring of curry sauce that she licked away. “I was annoyed with you. But don’t worry, I’m not anymore.”

  “You’re not?” Brendan asked, skeptically.

  “No,” Tracy said looking him in the eyes. She shrugged. “You’re going to do what you’re going to do. I don’t have any control over that. But I can control how I react. And anyway … once Layla and I got here, I was kind of happy to be home, just me and her. We haven’t had a lot of time lately …”

  Brendan opened his mouth and she stopped him with a raised hand.

  “I know. My fault. But tomorrow we can all go home, and ... things will be back to normal.”

  “Normal,” he echoed.

  “Yeah.”

  “What does that mean exactly?”

  Tracy laughed. “What do you mean what does that mean?”

  “I just want to know if this is a trick or something.”

  “No trick. I’m coming home. And I’m sorry I was gone so long. But I think I … I know things will be different.”

  “How’re they going to be different?”

  “Why do I feel like you’re quizzing me?” she asked, still smiling.

  “‘Cause I kind of am. I just want to know that we’re not going to get home and you’ll flip on me or something.”

  Tracy’s face fell a little. “Okay, there’s some … precedent for why you might think that. I admit it. But I’m committing to you, here and now, that I will not flip on you.” She held up a hand. “Scout’s honor. I will not flip on you, or try to change you, or …”

  “First of all, you weren’t a scout. And second, you’re too mellow right now. It’s worrying me. Is it because of the …”

  They hadn’t even talked much about the baby. The baby. Brendan’s heart thumped just a little harder.

  “Maybe a little? But the truth is, I was here alone for a while, and it gave me time to think, time to work some stuff through with Dr. Greer. Maybe there’s some things I wish were different. But I can’t make you do any of it. So, I’m just going to focus on the things about our life that I love. And let everything else take care of itself.”

  Brendan stared at his wife, not knowing what to say, or which way to turn his mind.

  Tracy extended a hand across the table toward him, and for a moment he thought she wanted t
o shake on it. But when she took his hand, she just squeezed it.

  “It’s not that complicated, Brendan. I love you,” she said. “I love our life. And I’m ready to come home.”

  23

  Hey Trish. She there?”

  “No. Sorry, Mr. Cole. It’s Thursday, remember? She has that weekly appointment?”

  Right. Thursday. The sacrosanct Dr. Greer Thursday. Trish had no idea where Tracy went on Thursdays, but she had learned, as Brendan had, that come hell or high water, Tracy did not miss her weekly appointment.

  “Right. I forgot.”

  “Did you need …?”

  “Nope. Just thought I’d let her know I was coming home around three today, and thought she’d be with Layla.”

  “If you want to relieve me early that’d be great,” Trish said. “Because she’s actually not going to be back until after five today, she said.”

  “After five? Did she say …?” He stopped himself, feeling foolish that he had been reduced to interrogating the babysitter about his wife’s whereabouts. “Never mind. Yeah, I’ll be there to relieve you early. Thanks, Trish.”

  Hanging up, Brendan pinched the bridge of his nose. He had a meeting with Justin at one-thirty and intended for it to be his last one for the day. Since it was his first day back after his suspension, Brendan intended to read dude the riot act and let him know in no uncertain terms that his next slip-up would be his last.

  But now that meeting felt unnecessary. If Justin didn’t already know he was skating on thin ice, then he was too dumb to be working at So Def to begin with.

  Brendan stood, gathering his iPad and phone, and heading for the door. His assistant tried to flag him down as he left, but he ignored her, and kept walking.

  In his car, he sat still for a few silent minutes before starting the engine. He didn’t even know where he was headed. Since he’d just spoken to Trish, it would be weird to show up just a half hour later, and besides, Tracy wasn’t there. Not that he needed her home, but … shit, he preferred it. There was nothing wrong with that, was there?