Her shoulders rose, then sunk again. “Okay.”
Okay? I waited, but that was it. Just okay. Nothing more.
She slid down from her barstool, then stepped toward me. When she reached her arms forward, I almost stepped back. Not because she’d ever hit me or anything. We’d never gone to that place. It was just that her reaching for me was something that was almost foreign now.
But then, I embraced her. Held her for longer than I could remember doing for very long time. When we stepped back, I looked at her and she looked at the floor. I shifted to the left and she did the same to the right.
“Um….” she said.
“Ah….” I said.
Then after a couple of more awkward moments that should never happen between a couple who’d been married for seventeen years, I said, “I’m thinking about Chinese.”
She nodded. “That will be good.”
I waited. She said nothing else. I asked, “Anything that you want in particular?”
She smiled. “Moo goo ga pan?”
The way she stood there in front of me without any of the drama that accompanied her disease or medicine, gave me a little glimpse of the woman I used to know. The most beautiful and smartest woman who two years out of law school could negotiate multi-million dollar real estate deals over the phone, while she balanced our six-month old son on her hip and fried up bacon at the same time.
She’d been my Wonder Woman then, earning far more than I did, but never making me feel less of a man. We stood together as equals, planning our future, the children we would have, the trips we would take, the business we hoped to one day open together.
It had been that way for ten wonderful years.
“You’re gonna get the usual for the kids?” she asked through my memories.
I nodded. “And an egg roll for Raven.”
“Make that two for her.”
Now, she grinned and I almost…laughed. But I certainly smiled. And leaned over and kissed her before I grabbed my keys, wallet, phone and almost danced out the door.
There were all kinds of thoughts spinning in my head, but they were all captured with this one thought: I didn’t know what had just happened, but whatever it was, it was a great thing.
I slipped into the car and tried to remember the last time Monica and I had chatted like that, like husband and wife making dinner plans, without any arguing, without any tears, without any sadness. Pulling out of the driveway, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d left my home, not wanting to floor the accelerator out of frustration.
Maybe Dr. Nichol’s had given Monica a new prescription. And maybe this meant that all of my prayers for her were being answered.
At the corner of our street, I held my foot on the brake, plugged in my phone, hit my second favorite Luther song and then, turned the ballad that Monica and I had danced to at our wedding into a duet:
My love, there’s only you in my life…
The only thing that’s right.
Luther and I sang Endless Love a couple of times until I rolled my Tahoe to a stop in front of QQ's Chinese Palace. I jumped out of the car, my mind still on Monica and my spirit so hopeful, until I saw the name of the restaurant written in English…and Chinese.
“So, why did you major in French and Italian? I mean, it’s hard enough for me to speak the king’s English.”
Angelique laughed, a soft sound that made its way to my soul. “I would have majored in every language, even Chinese, if I could have. I always wanted to be a child of the world. I wanted to visit every continent, get to know all the people, speak as many languages as I could.”
I was impressed with the expansiveness of her desire. “Wow! That’s me, too, kinda. I mean, I only want to speak English, but I want to travel everywhere.” I paused, thinking about how Monica, with all of her sophistication, never wanted to travel past the Galleria Mall. “How many continents have you visited?”
The entire time that we’d been sitting in this Starbucks, every part of her body seemed to smile at me. From her eyes to her lips; I even imagined that her fingers curled around her cup and made some kind of smiley face.
But now, she cried. There were no tears, but it was like sorrow engulfed her.
“If you don’t count North America….” She shook her head. “I haven’t been anywhere.”
I didn’t even have to ask her the next question; intuitively, I knew why her desire to travel had been held in check. Her husband was choking her the way Monica was stifling me….
“You ready with your order?”
I blinked, not even realizing that I’d walked into the restaurant. Even though this young Asian woman had seen me several times a month over the past few years, she stared at me like this was my first visit and my presence at best annoyed her or at worst, (even still wearing my navy suit and white shirt) made her suspicious.
I gave my normal order: kao pao shrimp, moo goo ga pan, shrimp fried rice, chicken wings and two egg rolls — a dish for each one of us. When I sat on the bench to wait for my family’s dinner, my thoughts returned to my coffee date with Angelique. I’d suggested that we meet at Starbucks because I hadn’t been sure. After we ‘talked’ that first night, I knew that I wanted to meet her, but what I couldn’t figure out was why? Was I just looking for a new friend? Was it because I wanted a friend with a connection? And what did friends with a connection really mean?
I sighed. I wasn’t that cat. From the moment I asked Monica to marry me and she’d said yes, I’d been faithful and knew that I would always be. My vows were serious — for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health….
Sickness and health. This was where I was being tested.
I had no problem with my wife being sick — I was willing to stand by her and with her until she got better. My challenge was I could never tell if Monica wanted the same. Did she want to get better, too?
“Number forty-four!”
I glanced up at the woman shouting from the counter like we weren't cooped in this tiny restaurant and couldn't hear each other thinking. Jumping up, I gathered the bags and hopped back into my car. As I drove, this time I didn’t turn on my music. I wanted the silence so that I could just think about home. I was so encouraged by the way I’d left Monica — with a smile, with a hug. Some would look at that as nothing, but to me, it was a small victory. It gave me hope for tonight — a pleasant dinner with the kids and then, dessert…in our bedroom.
For the first time, I could see it and I could say it: Monica was trying. And that meant there was something that I had to do.
At a stoplight, I grabbed my cell phone, and opened the Words With Friends app. Monica had made her move, and now, I would make mine.
I sighed as I looked at the current game that I was playing with Angelique. All I had to do was resign, then block her — and that would be it because she didn’t have my phone number, she didn’t know where I lived. It had been real, it had been fun, but this would be the end.
When a horn blared from behind me, I jumped and glanced up. The light had turned green. I tossed my cell back into the cup holder on the console and hit the gas. I’d take care of this later — I’d delete Angelique from my life when I got home.
CHAPTER 6
Angelique
“Just do it,” I whispered, looking down at my cell phone.
Sitting at my desk, I had the Words With Friends app open and was really surprised that I didn’t have a message from Blu. We’d messaged back and forth for hours yesterday after we’d left the coffee shop. But then all of a sudden, it stopped last night.
I wasn’t sure if it had stopped because of him or me. I had sent the last message, but then, I’d turned my phone off because it was getting to be too much. Just reading Blu’s messages made me want to see him again. If I didn’t stop, my next message was going to be: Let’s meet at the gas station.
And since that was just ridiculous, I had turned off the phone to stop myself from acting like a fool.
<
br /> After that, my Foundation became my distraction. I’d worked and waited in my office for Preston to come home. And hoped that my husband could take my mind away from my friend-with-a-connection.
It was after nine when Preston finally found his way to the house we shared, but by that point, my annoyance level was at its apex. My plan had been to just stay in my office until I thought Preston was asleep; I was sure he’d never notice that I wasn’t beside him in bed.
But then, Preston had come looking for me. Leaning back in the chair where I’d been sitting last night, I closed my eyes and remembered:
I felt him standing in the door jamb, but I kept my eyes on my computer screen, tapping away as if I were writing the next great memo. But all I was doing was an old typing exercise that I’d learned back in high school, the home row: a;sldkfjgh — I typed that over and over until Preston said, “Hey babe.”
“Oh,” I said as if I were surprised by his presence. The way Preston looked at me made me think that one day I might want to consider taking acting lessons. But I played it off. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”
I wanted that to be an insult. As if he were so insignificant in my life that I wasn’t listening for him because surely, I hadn’t been waiting for him. I wanted him to feel as irrelevant as I felt that I was to him.
“I understand.” He paused and I wondered if he really understood what I’d just said and what my words meant. He said, “You look busy. Working on something big?”
When he craned his neck to get a peek at the computer, I hit the F1 button, darkening the screen. “Nope,” I said and spun my chair to face him. “Nothing big. Nothing important.”
His eyes were sad as he nodded. “I’m really sorry, babe.”
“For what?”
“For all of this,” he said. “We haven’t had dinner together in a couple of weeks.”
“Ummm…your timetable is off.”
“Has it been longer?”
I nodded. “Way longer and I didn’t think you noticed.”
His eyes widened as if my words surprised him. “Are you kidding me? I always notice when I don’t get to spend enough time with my beautiful wife.”
My hard heart melted — just a little.
He said, “I’m really tired….”
I kept my expression the same even though I wanted to roll my eyes and ask what else was new.
But then, he reached for me. “But, will you come to bed with me?”
There was no way for me to keep a straight face now. Not with the way my heart pounded with anticipation. He wanted to go to bed with me? I mean, yeah, we slept in the same bed every night, but this was an invitation, though a bit formal.
He pulled me up and into his arms. I inhaled his fragrance and felt his hardness, then exhaled. It had been too long, I was so ready.
He said, “I have to get up early, but I just want to hold you.”
Maybe I wouldn’t need those acting lessons after all because my body was like plaster — I held back my disappointment as he took my hand and led me into our bedroom. We undressed in silence, and then, he gave me what he promised — he laid on his back, opened his arms, then folded me inside his embrace.
I wanted so much more, but this was a huge start. Because Preston had come home tonight and searched for me. He saw me. He hadn’t been on the phone, he hadn’t been checking his calendar, he hadn’t been reading proposals or plans. All he wanted was me…..
Opening my eyes, I looked down at my phone again. That move by Preston meant that he was trying. And that meant that I needed to do the same.
I tapped on the app. The score was 232 to 209, my favor and it was my move.
My move needed to be to resign and then block Blu. I needed to end our connection so that I could plug-in to my husband once again.
“Just do it,” I told myself again. “Resign. Block.”
I sat there for a few more moments, then sighed before I tossed the phone back onto my desk. Why didn’t I want to just unfriend Blu? It wasn’t like I really knew him. It wasn’t like we were really even friends.
Sitting there, I massaged my temples, thinking once again, about last night. And how Preston had made that effort and how I needed to do that same. Then…I got an idea. I sat for a few moments more, thinking it through.
Yes! This would work. This would be wonderful. This would help me to unconnect from Blu and reconnect with Preston.
I glanced at my watch, then calculated the time in my head. If I got started now, the timing would be perfect. I jumped up and dashed into our bedroom.
* * * * *
This was a big move, I knew it. But it was a winning move. It was a bit out of character for me. Perhaps Sheryl’s, definitely Cassidy’s style. But that was part of the excitement. I was a desperate housewife ready to be bold.
I swung my car around the curve, pulling into the downtown parking structure for the building where Wake Forest Investments had their offices. It was Friday, just about noon, so it wasn’t difficult to find a spot. I stuffed the bottle of wine into my tote before I jumped out of my SUV. Then before I took a step, I tightened the belt on my trench coat, making sure everything was in place.
The heels of my stilettos clicked against the concrete of the parking lot and with each step, I got more excited. By the time I strode into the main elevator, I was giggling.
This reminded me of the old days. When we’d first gotten married. On so many Fridays, I’d stop by Preston’s office and we’d sneak away for a quiet lunch…or a nooner in his car. My hope was that this would jog Preston’s memory all the way back to our olden days.
I pushed the bottle of wine down further into my bag before I stepped off the elevators on the seventh floor. I was still smiling wide as I looked at the huge gold letters — WAKE FOREST INVESTMENTS — and the cheery receptionist chirped, “Hi. May I help you?”
My smiled dimmed a bit. I didn’t remember her name, but I at least remembered the receptionist’s face from the Christmas extravaganza that Preston and his partners held last year. Clearly, though, as Preston Mason’s wife, I wasn’t memorable at all. That might have something to do with the fact that I never visited Preston here at the office. I didn’t like this place. What wife celebrated her husband’s mistress?
“I’m here for Preston Mason ,” I said, deciding not to reintroduce myself to the woman. There was no need; I wasn’t here to bond with her.
"Do you have an appointment?"
Okay, let me back up. I didn’t reintroduce myself because I was sure that once I said Preston’s name, she’d remember that I was his wife. Did she even remember that he had a wife?
“No, I don’t have an appointment.” My fake grin was so wide, my cheeks were already aching. “But since I’m his wife, I don’t think I need one.”
My words, my tone were sharper than they should have been. It wasn’t this young lady’s fault that I wasn’t part of the Wake Forest Family.
“Oh,” she exclaimed. “I’m so sorry.”
“No worries. I’ll just go back,” I said, hoping that Preston’s office was in the same place. I’d only taken a couple of steps when she called out.
“Wait.” She sounded as if she were really trying to stop me. When I swiveled just a bit to face her, she said, “Maybe I should call him first?”
Since she was asking, I said, “No, I’m good. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see me,” and tugged on the belt to my trench.
I’d wanted to approach his door with a kind of saunter, a walk so sexy that by the time I sashayed into his office, my intentions would be so obvious. But I’d been a bit distracted by the receptionist and my thoughts returned to how removed I was from Preston’s life as I tapped on his door.
I pushed the door open at the same time that I heard a giggle. I frowned, until I stepped inside. His secretary, Ashley, sat opposite him and they both looked up as I walked in.
It was a good thing that I hadn’t opened my coat.
“Angelique,” Pr
eston said, popping up from his chair. “What’s wrong? What are you doing here?”
“Uh….” I glanced at Ashley.
I knew my husband, so these were the words I expected from him. And I had my answers ready. But I couldn’t answer the way I wanted to with Ashley sitting right there. And she made no moves to get up and get out.
“Angelique?” Preston called my name.
“Uh….” My eyes darted from my husband to his assistant. “Uh…..”
Ashley said, “Maybe I should leave.”
You think?
Still, she stayed in place for a few moments before she gathered a couple of files, smiled at me, and then walked out, closing the door behind her.
Preston stepped from his chair and rounded his desk. “So, what’s wrong? What are you doing here?”
With a breath, I put down my tote, then, yanked the belt of my coat.
“Angelique?”
Wait! The trench was supposed to snap open. I had practiced it at home. But instead, the belt did just the opposite. It tightened around my waist. “Uh….” Looking down, I had somehow knotted it. Ugh! How had I done that?
“Angelique, you’re worrying me.” He took a step closer.
I fumbled with the belt, thinking that now, instead of the acting lessons I thought I needed last night, I really needed to find a stripper as a mentor instead.
With a couple of more tugs, yanks, pushes and pulls, I snapped the coat open.
Preston blinked. “Oh!” He stepped back and my hope was that he did that so he could get a better view.
I sucked in my stomach, brought my leg forward in a pose, and then wondered if I could find stripper lessons on-line.
“Oh!”
“You like?”
He said, “Uh…yeah…but.”
Moving toward him, I shook my head. “No buts. Unless….” I grabbed his hand. “You’re touching mine.”
He smiled. “What’s gotten into you?”
I wrapped my arms around Preston’s neck. “I miss you, baby,” I purred.
He raised his arms into what I expected to be an embrace. But instead, with his hands, he pushed my arms away. “Uh…”
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