by Candice Dow
My phone rang, and it was another 301 number. I wasn’t in the mood to speak to an employer. I was jumpy and anxious to know something. I waited for another five minutes. Finally I cleared my call log, left my phone in the bedroom, and headed back downstairs.
Kenneth stood in the kitchen like he’d seen a ghost. His eyes shot over to the large, sharp knife that I’d just sliced the tomatoes with. Mine followed. I was perplexed. It was as if I was confronting a stranger. I sensed fear, so stepped back. “What’s up, baby?”
His shoulders and chest inflated and he snatched the knife from the counter. He hadn’t mumbled a word. I said, “Baby.”
Like an angry lion, he charged at me. I rushed to the front door and tried to unlock it. My brain couldn’t figure out why he was coming after me, and I yanked at the doorknob. It wouldn’t open. I turned to face him, to plead with him. Before I could speak, his hand was around my neck and he lifted me off the floor. I tried prying his hand from my neck. He yelled, “You went to Nicaragua with Devin!”
I tried shaking my head. He said, “Don’t fucking play with me, Clark.”
He raised the knife and the point headed for my head. My life flashed before my eyes. I saw the knife darting toward me. Then a loud sound of it piercing through the door startled me as I looked at it from the corner of my eye. He let go of my throat and my body dropped to the floor. He yanked the door open and walked out. I got to my feet and hobbled after him. “Kenneth! Kenneth!”
“Go back in the house.”
“Baby, please.”
I grabbed his arm and he pushed me away, nearly knocking me to the ground. “Leave me the fuck alone.”
“Let me explain.” He looked at me. I felt his pain. “Please, baby. Let me explain.”
He wiped the sweat from his face. “Explain what, Clark? You’ve been fucking him our entire marriage.”
“No, I swear.”
“You think I’m supposed to believe you? The goddam reporter just told me y’all had an on-and-off affair for ten years.”
“You have to know that’s a lie.”
“Why the fuck should I believe you? Tell me that—why the fuck should I believe you?”
I looked him in the eye. “Because I believed you. I never once asked you if what Raven said was true, because I know the man I married. And you should know me.”
“Marriage doesn’t mean shit to you, Clark.”
He headed back toward the house and I stood there and watched him stroll back down the street. Tears rolled down my face. I didn’t know what to do or say. I followed him down the street and before I made it to my house, the door slammed. When I tried the door, it was locked. I banged frantically, before realizing that I could just enter the code into the garage. When the door rose, my heart pounded. I wondered if I should go in or just stay on the steps. I didn’t have keys or a purse or a phone, but I wasn’t sure it was safe to be in there with him alone. I walked back to the front of the house and sat on the steps. My head rested in my hands, and I wondered if I had willed this to happen. I wanted adventure. I wanted exhilaration, but it wasn’t worth it. I wanted to go back to a stiff, regular life.
As I sat there, crying uncontrollably, Mia’s silver Hyundai Accent swerved into the driveway. She jumped out of the car and ran to me. “Are you okay, Ma? Taliah called me and said y’all were fighting outside.”
Taliah was a girl across the street. I was slightly embarrassed, but I couldn’t focus on that at the moment.
“What’s going on?” Mia asked.
I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk about it.
“Did that girl do something else?”
“It was me this time, Mia. It was something I did.”
She adjusted her teeny-weeny denim shorts and sat on the brick steps with me. “Whatchu mean? What happened?”
It pained me to say it. I couldn’t find the words, so I just shook my head.
“Where’s Daddy?”
“He’s in there, but he’s very angry.”
She looped her arm through the Louis Vuitton doctor’s bag that I’d handed down to her and stood, pulling her keys out. I jumped up. “Mia, you shouldn’t go in there.”
“He can’t be that angry.”
She put her key in the door and I stood behind her. The door swung open and I crept in her shadow. I wanted to be sure the coast was clear. She walked into the family room and called him hesitantly before I peeked around the corner. He had yanked the phone out of the wall. She trotted over to him and I stepped into the kitchen to see his response.
She hugged him. “Daddy, are you okay?”
He wept in her arms, exposing a side of him that I’d never seen. “Mia, my life is fucked up. I don’t have anything. I’ve lost everything.”
She kept repeating, “It’s okay, Daddy. It’s going to be okay.”
“We’re going to lose our house. I won’t be able to pay for you to go to school. We have nothing. All I have is you, Mia.”
“Daddy, Mommy’s here. She’s not going to leave you.”
“She’s not your damn mother! How many times do I have to tell you that?” he snapped.
My heart shattered and I couldn’t believe my ears. I knew he was angry, but the way he said it let me know they’d had this conversation in the past. Not her mother. Mia’s biological mother left her with Kenneth when Mia was five and went off to marry some guy and then some other guy after that. She had only been a casual presence in Mia’s life. From the beginning of our relationship, I had been there day in and day out: her first period, her first boyfriend, her first everything.
I walked closer to him and tears fell from my eyes. “How could you say that?”
The emotion in the room forced Mia to cry, too. “Daddy, please.”
“Please nothing. Ask her, Mia. Ask her! Ask her to tell about how she’s been fucking somebody else our entire relationship.”
She gasped and I looked at her apologetically. “Mia, that’s not true.”
“Daddy?”
“Check out the Washington Post. It’s all in the paper today.”
Mia glared at me. I shook my head, but her expression told me she believed him. I didn’t get the benefit of the doubt she’d given him. I guess blood was thicker than water. Kenneth slouched back into his seat and dropped his head in his hands. Mia’s deep-set eyes pierced through me. Her chocolate skin was red with anger, as she and I stood face-to-face. She was not my daughter and I was not her mother. I was just a woman who had hurt her father.
“Mia, listen to me. I never meant to hurt him. I love him. We’ve been having a really hard time and I did something I shouldn’t have done.”
“What did you do?”
“I had an affair.”
“What are y’all doing to each other?” she yelled, as she stormed out of the house in tears.
I went to sit beside Kenneth, rubbed his back, and poured my heart out. “Kenneth, you have to believe me. I never meant to hurt you. This was a one-time thing and I broke it off. I believe in you and I believe in our marriage. You have to know that. You haven’t lost everything, because I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, Kenneth. I’m here for you.”
He leaned back and looked at me and I didn’t know how to interpret his expression. Finally, he spoke. “I believe you.”
I hugged him tightly and he halfheartedly hugged me back. “We’ll get through this. All of this. These things make relationships stronger.”
I probably should have packed up and rolled out, but I didn’t. His emotions had just gotten the best of him. He would never hit me. It was just what he was dealing with that had forced him into that rage.
I wondered about Devin and how his wife handled the news. If the media were blowing up my phone, surely they were parked outside of his house.
Kenneth stroked my hair. “How did we get here?”
“I don’t know.”
“I just want it to be like it used to be.”
I nodded on his chest. “Me t
oo.”
Kenneth was out of control and it was killing him. He’d always been the one with all the answers. Now he was a victim in need of therapy. He was off balance and angry at the world. We turned the television off and lay down on the family room floor in silence, like we were waiting for the earthquake to pass.
42
DEVIN
Jennifer called me three hours and fifteen minutes later. “Devin, do you want me to come to the house?”
“No, there are reporters camped outside. I’ll give you directions to the day camp.”
“Wow, Devin. It’s that bad?”
I laughed it off. “Real bad.”
“I’ll see you in a minute. Give me the address. I’ll plug it into the navigation system.”
I felt slightly choked up as I gathered Nicole’s things. I owed her a more stable life. This just wasn’t fair to anyone. When I pulled from my driveway, reporters snapped pictures of me, and I just couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t let us deal with this in private.
Curtis called just as I was driving off. “Why the hell haven’t you been answering your phone?”
“I thought you quit.”
“Man, I’m not going to let you drive off the cliff alone. I believe in you and I’m working with a publicist that’s excellent with damage control. Don’t talk to any reporters—and more importantly, don’t call that woman.”
“I won’t.”
“Let me smooth this situation over.”
“I’m sorry, man.”
He laughed. “Shit, if you win despite all of this, I can manage any campaign I want.”
“Yeah, man. Look on the bright side.”
We shared a few laughs in the midst of the turmoil, because at the end of the day, I would either win or lose. Really it was that simple. The press was just a bunch of nosy-ass, inconsiderate-ass people trying to break a bigger story than the next reporter. It had nothing to do with the race or me; it was just a job.
When I pulled into the parking lot of Mitchellville Christian School, Jennifer was sitting in her black Porsche Cayenne, typing on her BlackBerry. I took Nicole’s bags from my trunk and walked over to the truck. I tapped on the passenger-side window, and she unlocked the door. I climbed in and she looked at me. Her long, curly, dark brown hair was pulled back into one ponytail. Her pale cheeks were flushed and her large almond eyes dimmed.
“Devin, you’ll get through this. You always do.”
I often kicked myself for abruptly divorcing her. I blamed her for losing Clark, but it was no one’s fault but mine. The least I could say about Jennifer: she was one constant in my life.
“I know. It’s just crazy.”
“Politics is hard,” she said.
“Yeah, I messed up.”
“As long as I’ve known you, I’ve never known you to be a cheater. You usually walk out before you cheat.”
I smiled. “You’re right. I’ve never cheated on anyone until now.”
“Why now? In the middle of your campaign.”
“It was Clark.”
She looked away from me. “Why did I know that?”
“I don’t know.”
She folded her small lips tightly and shook her head. “While I was driving down here, I told myself that the only woman that could deter you from your path would be Clark.”
I looked at her and she looked at me. Tears formed in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Devin. I was so young and dumb. My parents told me to go to law school and snag the man with the most potential and I did.”
“Yo, Jennifer. Don’t start blaming yourself for this.”
“You had something very special with Clark. You loved her instinctively. You know?”
I took a deep breath. She had summed up those feelings that just wouldn’t go away. If I had control, I would have let this shit go a long time ago.
She continued, “Is it over? Is she still married?”
“Yes and yes.”
“So, what is Taylor saying?”
“She found out at the press conference that it was Clark, and she pretty much stormed out in tears and hasn’t answered her phone since.”
“Damn, Devin. I don’t know. It’s harder for women to get over cheating when they know you really love the other woman.”
I leaned my head back on the headrest, ran my hand down my face, and sighed. “I know.”
“What do you want?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You know what you want. You’re just not sure it’s the right thing, that’s all.”
We walked into the camp together. Nicole looked as if she wanted to cry when she saw Jennifer. The look in her eyes upset my stomach, but she was cool enough not to fuss or fight. She looked at me and said, “It’s okay, Daddy. I’ll see you when you come to New York.”
I kissed them both. They headed out of the parking lot, and I was left to sort out my mess.
It wasn’t until I walked into the house and saw that Taylor had trash bags full of her things that I half-knew what I wanted. I didn’t want her to walk out. Not yet, anyway. We could get over this. I stepped around the bags and rushed through the house.
“Taylor!” I yelled, as I ran upstairs.
She frantically threw clothes and shoes and jewelry in huge trash bags. I looked at her and asked, “What are you doing?”
“What if we were wrong about each other? What if you were really made for me?” she yelled.
“What!”
She hurled a shoe at the closet. “Motherfucker, that’s what you said about her the very first day I met you.” She shook her head. “I knew then that you weren’t over her. And I should have listened to my intuition. I always knew.”
“Taylor, there is no way you could have known anything. It was something that happened and was over very shortly after.”
She walked to the closet door. “Devin, you may have had a short physical affair with her, but you’ve had an emotional affair with her for a long time. She’s your one that got away, Devin! She’s the one that got away!” She started crying. “You never get over that person, and you wait your whole life for them to forgive you. Remember all the talks we had when we first met? They were all about her. You’ve spent your whole life wanting her forgiveness.”
“Taylor, I want you to forgive me. I don’t want you to be the one that got away. Clark is committed to her marriage. You don’t have to worry about her. She’s not leaving her husband and I have no plans to leave you.”
“Devin, I don’t want to be second-best. I’m not that girl. I can’t stay here. I gotta go,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m leaving you.”
“You can’t just quit on marriage.”
“You did before, so why wouldn’t you do it again?”
“Because I learned my lesson and I know marriage takes work.”
She pushed clothes down in her bag. “What if you found out that Clark left her husband? What would you do?”
I took a deep breath, wishing I could plead the Fifth. When I lifted my head to speak, she looked disappointed and said, “Exactly what I thought.”
I wanted to tell her she was wrong. I wanted to console her, but all I could think about was all the plans Clark and I had made in Nicaragua, and how we both had settled for the next best thing. It was for a good reason, but, nonetheless, neither of us could have what we really wanted. I stood there, feeling like a damn failure.
She tied the bag and bumped me as she passed. “I’ll be staying with Courtney.”
I walked behind her. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to do this?”
“Yes.”
She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked me in the eye. “No, you’re not.”
My wife piled her bags in her car and pulled off. I stood in the garage, embarrassed and downright tired. As I walked into the house, the melody to Babyface’s “What If” played in my head. I poured a glass of Crown Royal Reserve and the words of the song got l
ouder: What if we were wrong about each other? What if you were really made for me?
43
DEVIN
Curtis nearly flipped when I told him that Taylor had walked out. He frowned. “Man, tell her she’s gotta come home. We need her by your side.”
I shrugged. “Man, what am I going to do? Force her to stay?”
“Do something, man. Why are you so nonchalant about this?”
“Man, let’s just focus on what we got to focus on.”
“Fool, do you realize that the majority of your vote are church folk, and her father has an influence on all the churches in the damn district?”
“So you think if she stays with me, they’ll vote for me?”
“Your wife can make you or break you.”
It had been nearly twenty-four hours since I spoke to Taylor. The one thing I knew for sure was that when her mind was made up, there was no changing. Curtis urged me to remove emotion from this matter and focus on the image. He basically said, “Who gives a shit if you’re in love with the other woman? For the sake of this campaign, you are the doting husband that made a damn mistake.”
I listened intently to his advice and I partially agreed. Curtis may have been short with me, but he was relentless. Damn if my emotions would sabotage his plans. After I didn’t respond to some of his advice, he snapped, “Don’t act like a bitch, Devin. Handle your business. Go get your damn wife back.”
I wondered if Curtis had to ever go get anyone back after they’d been publicly disgraced. This shit was no trivial task, but clearly something had to be done. Otherwise, I would have wasted everyone’s time and effort, and my parents’ money.
When I left the campaign office, I went to Taylor’s father’s church. It was the middle of the day and he was usually there. When I pulled up and saw his Cadillac outside, I suddenly got cold feet. Pastor Jabowski did not marry divorced people, but because it was Taylor, he had performed our ceremony. Initially, he refused, but his wife made him do it. She told him that his daughter had to be an exception to the rule. Before we got married, he asked me over and over was I sure about this, was I sure about Taylor? And I promised this 350-pound man that I would take care of his daughter until death. He was the only person Taylor listened to, and if I was going to make this right, I had to go through him.