We Ain’t the Brontës

by Rosalyn McMillan

  By Friday, I am exhausted. My hope of winning the case seems futile. When I have a conference at Teddy’s office Friday evening, he tries to lift my spirits.

  “Listen, Charity. We talked about this. It’s the attorney’s job to paint a negative picture of you. No one on my staff is surprised by any of their witnesses or what the witnesses revealed.”

  I’m sitting in a navy leather chair opposite him. “I know what you said, Teddy, but I wasn’t expecting that these witnesses would stare at me with such hatred in their eyes. I feel like a gnat that’s about to be crushed when their eyes meet mine. It takes all the chutzpah I can muster to not look away from them.”

  “And I’m proud of you for doing that. You should continue to look those witnesses right in the eye. Half of them are lying anyway.”

  “I know. By the way, James, Ashton, and you are doing a great job of refuting the witnesses’ testimony.”

  “Thanks. I think we know what we’re doing.” He smiles.

  “I wish I did.” I finger a plant nearby and cross my legs. “You know, I wish Lynzee would have taken the settlement I offered her. This trial could ruin both of our careers.” I shake my head.

  Teddy comes around his desk and rests his buttocks on the edge. “I’m going to make damn sure that that doesn’t happen, especially to your career. You’re going to come out of this trial looking like a hero.”

  I look at him with hope in my eyes. “You think you can do that?”

  “Absolutely.” He takes my hand and lifts me up. “Now, it’s time for you to go home and get some rest. Let us worry about the trial. All we want you to do is come to trial looking as pretty as you can and wearing a big smile on your face. Can you do that for me?”

  I stand, smiling. “I think I can manage that. Thank you, Teddy.”

  He walks me to the door. “Good night, Charity.”

  “Good night, Teddy. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  On the drive home, my confidence is waning. Lynzee has thirty-one more witnesses to testify. I only have eighteen. There’s something wrong with that picture.

  The twins will start classes soon and they won’t be in court to support me. I’m already missing their loving faces smiling back at me.

  37

  When I pull into the garage, I immediately turn to where Jett used to park his truck. It still surprises me to see the empty space. I wish that I could snap my fingers and change things back to the way they used to be.

  I put my key in the door and open it. The telephone is ringing. I rush to the desk. “Hello?” I set down my purse and keys and take a seat on the desk chair.

  “Hi, lady, it’s Kai. How did the trial go today?”

  “As well as expected. I’m not looking forward to going back on Monday, though.”

  “I know it can’t be that bad. Lynzee is a real bitch to go through with the suit. I could’ve sworn that she would drop it.”

  “No way. That chick is out for blood and she won’t be satisfied until I’m broke and disgraced.”

  “Don’t get mad, but I e-mailed your attorney. We went to law school in Detroit.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know.” I put on a pot of tea and grab a can of corn chowder out of the pantry.

  “By law, he’s sworn not to disclose any of your business. However, he told me that the trial was going just the way he thought it would and he can’t wait until it’s his turn to put his witnesses on the stand. He also said that he has a surprise witness that even you don’t know about.”

  “I’m still scared, Kai.” I reach for a cup from the cabinet.

  “What are you scared for? Teddy is one of the best attorneys in Memphis. Stop worrying so much. You’re in good hands.”

  I pour the soup in a bowl and pop it in the microwave. “Thanks for your support, Kai. Your friendship is priceless. Especially now.”

  “I value your friendship, too. You know how much I love you, lady.” I can hear the smile in her voice.

  “And I love you, too, Kai.”

  “Alrighty now, back to business. I’ve got some dirt on Lynzee.”

  The whistle blows on the tea kettle. “Tell me quick.” I prepare the tea.

  “Lynzee is hooked on Percocet again.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “No, siree. She must be worried about the suit, or is on a heavy guilt trip for putting you through this mess. In my opinion, her guilt is killing her. She needs that Percocet to cope with looking herself in the mirror every morning.”

  “Damn, I hate that.”

  “I know you don’t want to see her hooked on that shit again, but I’m told it’s too late. Her habit is worse than last time. She’s getting weekly shipments into Memphis from an old doctor in L.A. Sooner or later she’s going to have to go back to rehab.”

  “If Mama was alive she would slap the shit out of Lynzee.” I remove my bowl of soup and get a spoon out of the drawer.

  “If Aunt Katherine was alive, Lynzee would have never filed this suit.”

  “You’re right.” I swallow a tablespoon of soup. “Have you heard anything about Tyler? Her baby should be due in a couple of months.”

  “No. I don’t hear too much about her. I know that she’s still planning to go to school.”

  “Good for her.”

  “I believe her husband has gotten a job at a Jiffy Lube. He’s working full time and will also be going to school full time. It appears they’re trying to make it.”

  “Odds are against it,” I say and take another swallow. I sit back and sip on my tea. “Still, I wish them the best.” Lynzee’s apparent hatred of me is not going to change how I feel about Tyler. She’s family.

  I finish my soup, rinse out the bowl and stack it in the dishwasher.

  “Is April still working for the airlines?”

  “As far as I know.” I make a second cup of tea. “I know that Jett can’t afford to take care of her.”

  “Ouch.”

  “My ass. Things didn’t have to turn out like this. You know, I used to feel bad about the whole thing. Now I’m angry. I’m angry at Jett for giving up on us. I sensed that something like this would happen. That’s why I didn’t want to tell him. Secretly, he’s always wanted a daughter.”

  “My, my. Do you think he knows that she’s gay?”

  “I doubt it. Jett is homophobic. He can’t stand gays and lesbians. When he finds out, I feel sorry for April. He’s going to turn his back on her like he did me.”

  “Payback is hell, and Lynzee’s got it coming too.”

  “That’s too bad. May God have mercy on our souls.”

  The next morning, a knock at the front door wakes me up from a deep sleep. I put on my housecoat and hurry to answer it. When I open the door, I see a man standing there with a piece of paper in his hand. Oh, no. Not this shit again.

  “Mrs. Charity Evans?” he says all businesslike.

  “Yes.”

  He hands me the paperwork. “You’ve been served. Have a good day.” He skips down the steps to his awaiting car.

  I shut the door and go to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. I have no idea what this petition is. Then, before I can fill up the tank with water, it hits me. Jett. He’s filing for a divorce. I slam down the coffee pot and open up the papers. I read quickly.

  It’s all there in black and white. Jett wants a divorce. I cup my hand over my mouth to stifle a scream. How could he?

  I sit down at the table and read the entire contents. He’s leaving me the house, furniture, and artwork. His only request is money—half of the money from my last two contracts.

  “That greedy son of a bitch,” I say to myself. “How dare he?”

  I make up my mind to call Jett. If he doesn’t answer, I’m going to keep calling until he does.

  I dial his number and as expected, get his voice mail. I keep dialing every thirty minutes. By noon, I’m pissed and ready to stop by his job. He’s going to talk to me either by phone or face to face. A confrontation between us is long overdue
.

  I’ve taken a shower, dressed and cleaned up my bedroom. Since Jett’s been gone, I started a bad habit of laying my clothes on the chaise lounge. The room looks a hot mess before I clean up behind myself.

  Finally, I get a call on my cell. “Hello.”

  “It’s me.”

  “I got the papers today. I think we should talk.” Lord knows I got the blues.

  Jett’s voice is firm. “There’s nothing to talk about. This farce of a marriage is over.”

  “Tell me to my face. Either you come over here, or I’ll come to your job. Which will it be?”

  38

  “I don’t know why you insisted on a meeting, Charity. I don’t respect you anymore. It’s that simple.” Jett extends his long legs and crosses them at the ankle. He looks at me with disgust on his face.

  We’re sitting out on the lower level patio of our home. Twenty huge pots of variegated flowers are spaced along the sixty-foot edge. I prepared a pitcher of iced tea. Jett’s is halfway gone. I’ve barely touched mine.

  “Let’s talk about respect. You’ve disrespected me more times than I can count. Namely, you had sex with Lynzee without protection. You might as well stop lying about it. I know the truth. You hate wearing condoms.”

  “I may have slipped up a time or two when Lynzee and I were intimate, but—”

  “You should have told me about you and Lynzee before we were married.” I’m getting mad now.

  “Nobody knew. Not even your mother. I thought it was best to keep it that way. When you and I got together, Lynzee had moved to North Carolina. Thinking about her and my relationship was the last thing on my mind.”

  “That’s some bullshit, Jett. I should have been told the truth. The people you’ve been intimate with before you strike up a relationship with someone is important. Especially if that person was your new lover’s sister. If I had known, I wouldn’t have dated you, let alone married you.”

  He straightens and takes a gulp of tea. “I realized how you would feel. That’s why I kept silent about it. You meant everything to me back then.”

  “Oh, back then.”

  “Yes. I don’t feel the same way about you anymore. I never knew that you would keep a secret from me that could possibly change my life.”

  “Your life! You mean my life.” I glare at him. “Your love child that you claimed you didn’t want in the first place has ruined our marriage.”

  “No, you ruined our marriage by lying to me.”

  I stand up and move in front of him with my hands on my hips. “No, you’re the one who lied first. Why don’t you admit the truth?”

  “It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done. I’ve got a daughter that I’m proud of. I only wish that I could have been involved in her life sooner.”

  How dare he act like he deserves the Father of the Year award? I move away from him. Maybe trying to salvage this marriage is a mistake. I turn my back to him.

  “If that’s all you want, I’ve gotta get back to work.” He stands.

  The bitch in me comes out. “Did you know that April is gay?”

  He looks like someone slapped him. “How would you know that?”

  “Lynzee told me.”

  “I don’t believe it.” The look on his face is pure fury.

  I knew I hit a hot spot. Then thoughts about the divorce decree surface. “About the divorce—”

  “What about it?”

  “I’m not giving you a dime. You and your daughter can live off of your salary. I don’t owe either of you nothing.”

  “You’re not being fair. I read all of your books and even helped you edit them.”

  “That was years ago. You stopped, remember?” My smile is coy. “You haven’t helped me on my last three books. You lost faith in my writing abilities. You thought my career was over.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Bullshit. You wrote me off just like Lynzee did. Hell, for all I know you two could have been comparing notes behind my back.” My head aches. I rub my face with my right hand and take a deep breath. “You’re right, Jett. This was a bad idea. I don’t know why I would want a man who’s clearly got his priorities mixed up. I think you better go.”

  He walks toward the steps and then turns back around. “You’re wrong about the money. I’ve been married to you for almost thirty years. I deserve to leave this marriage with something other than my clothes.”

  “The only thing you deserve is the frozen vegetables in the freezer.” I open the sliding door to the patio. “I’ll see you in court.”

  After Jett leaves, I go into my room and lay on the bed. I have a long cry. Jett never mentioned love not one time. Has he stopped loving me so quickly? Do his feelings for April trump our love for each other, and his love for his sons? Was I wrong not to tell him about April for so long? I know that I’m feeling sorry for myself, but I can’t help it. I’m feeling lonely and sex deprived. For a woman my age, that isn’t a good mix. I should be sitting on an exotic island drinking non-alcoholic margaritas.

  I fall asleep and see Jett’s snarling face in my nightmares. I awaken with sweat beads on my forehead. I go into the bathroom and wash my face and hands with cold water.

  I hate to admit it, but seeing Jett depressed me. I wanted him to take me in his arms and tell me that everything is going to be okay. I wanted him to tell me that he wants to stay married and keep our family together. I wanted him to assure me that April would never come between us. I wanted him to act like the caring and mature man that I fell in love with.

  I dry my face and go upstairs to my office. I’m irritated as hell. I can’t seem to find my speaking engagement notebook. I’m supposed to speak at Lemoyne-Owen College on a Sunday, but I’m not sure if it’s this week or next week.

  For the next thirty minutes, I tear up my desk and file cabinets looking for my notebook. It’s nowhere to be found. For some reason, I can’t seem to find the Rolodex with my booking agent’s number on it. By now, I’m fuming. Has somebody been going through my things? I haven’t changed the locks since Jett left. Maybe I should do so now.

  I pick up the Yellow Pages and scan the advertisements. I find a couple that will change locks twenty-four hours a day. I call the one closest to my home.

  Within an hour, EZ Locksmiths are doing their thing on six doors that keep my home safe. When they finish, I pay the technician $228. I feel a little more comfortable knowing that Jett can’t walk in and scare the shit out of me. I should have done it when he first left, but I always believed that he would only be gone for a few days and come back home.

  I’m feeling cocky now. Fuck Jett. If he wants a divorce, then so be it. Who’s to say that I can’t find a better mate? A better lover? A more attentive man? A better provider?

  Immediately, I think of Herman. Like I’ve been suspecting and Kai agreed, maybe Herman isn’t really gay. I decide to call him. I need a distraction before the trial starts again on Monday.

  Sitting at my desk, I dial his number on the home phone. “Herman, it’s Charity.”

  “Hi. I was expecting a call from my neighbor, Josh. The flood lights are out in our subdivision.”

  “Oh. Maybe I should call back later.”

  “No, Josh can get it handled. I’ll call him when you and I finish talking. Now, tell me what’s happening with you. I don’t want to hear about the trial. I’ve already read about it in the papers.”

  “Good, ’cause I don’t want to talk about the trial either. It only makes me angry.” I smile to myself, feeling like a naughty girl. “What are you doing tonight? Would you like to come over for dinner?”

  “Sure. What time?”

  “Around six. And Herman, bring a bottle of champagne.”

  “You sure? I thought you didn’t drink anymore?”

  “I didn’t. But I did that to keep Jett happy. Now I’m on my own and I can do what I want.” I’m lying. I stopped drinking for my self-respect. But now, I’m discovering a new me, and this one doesn’t want to
believe that alcohol can control her life.

  “I don’t know, Charity. I think you had to stop to keep from killing yourself. I don’t want to be responsible for getting you started drinking again.”

  I play with the telephone cord. “Tell you what: I’ve got some wine downstairs. I’m going to pour me a glass when you hang up. So, consider yourself not guilty, okay?”

  “What’s with you?”

  I smile. “Jett was here today. We talked about the divorce. It’s over. Now I want to celebrate. Is that cool with you?”

  “Yes. Okay then. I’ll be there at six.”

  I hang up the phone and traipse downstairs to the wine rack. I get out a wine glass and select a bottle of Bordeaux. I’m rusty, so it takes me a few minutes to get the bottle open. Having success, I pour half a glass and take a seat in the living room. I turn on the CD and listen to Beyoncé. In minutes, the wine slices through my body like fire. I relish my newfound feeling of freedom and finish my glass.

  With the music still playing, I pour another glass of wine. This time I start to dance. I’ve been asking Jett to take me dancing for years. He says that saved people aren’t supposed to dance and go to parties. I beg to differ with that. Saved people can enjoy some of life’s pleasures too.

  Funny, I don’t feel like I’m getting inebriated. I feel like I’m freeing my soul of unwanted baggage.

  Then I think: dinner. What am I going to cook? I haven’t gotten groceries since the twins left. I go into the kitchen and check the freezer. There are a few packages of chicken wings and a box of frozen fish sticks.

  “That won’t do.” I need to go to the store. I go into my room and retrieve my purse. I collect my keys and head out to my car. Minutes later, I’m at Schnucks supermarket selecting two large lobsters. That done, I stop by the butcher’s counter and pick out two porterhouse steaks. I drop a bag of salad mix in my basket, select a bunch of fresh flowers, and head for the checkout.