The Cheating Curve

by Paula T. Renfroe

  Aminah was silent for a minute. While she certainly understood Sean’s remorse, she wasn’t convinced that Lang still hadn’t managed to derive some sort of pleasure from her husband’s attempt to inflict pain.

  “You both did things you wish you hadn’t,” Aminah finally said, lifting his head. “What’s done is done. Besides, you already cut your hair. And I’m sure you’ve burned sage in every room. You’re starting fresh, right? How’s it feel?”

  “Feels good to have the place to myself. I know that much,” Sean said, relieved that Aminah hadn’t judged him.

  “It doesn’t feel strange at all? Being in this big house all by yourself?”

  “Strange, no. Different, yes.”

  Aminah nodded.

  “Listen, Aminah, about that kiss.”

  Aminah put her fingers up to Sean’s mouth to silence him. He pulled them down, folded them, and kissed the back of her hand. She didn’t want to talk about the kiss. She felt guilty enough just thinking about it. The kiss was special. The kiss felt good. Aminah shook her head.

  “Aminah, sweet Aminah, I definitely owe you an apology.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do,” Sean insisted. “I was vulnerable. You were vulnerable. And I acted on an attraction I’ve had for years. And we’re both married—hell, you’re my wife’s, well, soon-to-be ex-wife’s best friend—and for that I was wrong, and I apologize. I just don’t get down like that.”

  “Apology accepted,” Aminah said, smiling at Sean lovingly. “You don’t have to be sorry though. You’ve got great lips.”

  “Oh, I didn’t say I was sorry,” Sean clarified, laughing. “I said I apologize. Big damn difference. So we cool?”

  “Without a doubt,” Aminah answered, giggling.

  “Good. ’Cause I don’t want any awkwardness between us. So what brings you out so early on Christmas morning anyway, young lady?”

  “Well, my babies will be getting up soon, and I wouldn’t miss spending this day with them for anything in the world.”

  Sean nodded and silently vowed to have a child of his own to spend the holidays with in the next couple years.

  “So you came over to check on me first, huh?”

  “Actually, I have a gift for you,” Aminah said, reaching inside of her oversize leather Cavalli satchel and handing Sean an elegantly wrapped, palm-sized box.

  “You know you shouldn’t’ve gotten me anything,” Sean said, tearing off the giftwrap immediately.

  “Clearly.” Aminah laughed. She studied his face, trying to discern his reaction.

  “I know it’s not your style, but I thought…I dunno.” She paused. “I thought that maybe, right now more than anything, you could use some time.”

  “Nah, it’s incredible,” Sean said, admiring the diamond-encrusted red gold watch that was so obviously intended for Fame. “You sure you want me to have this?”

  “Absolutely,” Aminah said assuredly. She wasn’t having the first thought of regret, never mind a second one.

  “I don’t know, gorgeous,” Sean said, reluctant to remove the watch from its case. While it didn’t feel quite right to accept a gift that was meant for another man, it didn’t feel like the worst sin in the world to Sean either. He held the box, contemplating whether he should hand it back and just thank Aminah for the thought alone.

  “Here, lemme get that for you,” Aminah said, taking out the watch, ignoring Sean’s hesitancy.

  “Okay,” Sean said, nodding his head as Aminah fastened the watch on his wrist. The rich red gold complemented his smooth, dark skin. “’Cause I’m changing some things about myself, gorgeous, and one of them is my style. So thank you. Really. This may be just what I need to set things off properly.”

  Aminah felt even more confident about giving away Fame’s gift, particularly after seeing it on Sean. She treasured their unique relationship.

  “You’re going back to him, aren’t you?” Sean asked, getting used to the weight of the watch on his wrist.

  “I know you think he doesn’t deserve me, but—”

  “I know I said that a few weeks ago,” Sean interrupted. “But seeing him yesterday with Alia and Amir and without you, it just didn’t look right. Didn’t feel right either. I can’t front.”

  “Thank you,” Aminah said, hugging Sean.

  “For what?”

  “For being you,” she said before getting up from the couch and walking toward the door.

  Sean thanked Aminah again for the watch. And as much as he wanted to know how much it had cost her, he resisted. While he definitely wouldn’t wear it to school, especially after lecturing his students about delayed gratification and excessive spending all year long, he couldn’t wait to show it off to his boys when they went out for New Year’s Eve. It would be the first one he’d celebrate without Lang in over six years.

  Aminah told Sean to call her if he needed anything, including company. He agreed but told her he needed time with himself more than anything else. They embraced each other lovingly yet platonically before Aminah headed home.

  Aminah punched in the security code at her monogrammed gates a little before nine AM. It felt good driving up her winding driveway. She grinned at the Christmas décor. She’d given Fame the number of the holiday landscaping company that she’d hired every year, but he insisted on doing it himself.

  He’d been spending more time at home since Aminah’d left and had actually enjoyed hanging up all the lights with Alia and Amir. They’d begged him to get the fifteen-foot-tall inflatable snow globe for the front lawn. The humongous, illuminated snowman with the white faux snow swirling all around tickled Aminah to tears. Clearly the children were having their way with their father, mostly because they were the closest he could get to his wife.

  Aminah unlocked her front door and disarmed the security system. She panned the front foyer. Fame had remembered to call Daily Blossom. Lush red and deep burgundy floral arrangements filled the living room, dining room, and hallway. Roses, gloriosa lilies, and anthuriums were set about.

  Aminah smiled, inhaling the wonderful scent of the fresh bay, eucalyptus, and chinaberry garlands. She blinked back tears.

  Home.

  She’d missed it.

  Before his wife left him, Fame wouldn’t have heard the DEA busting down his front door if he was sleeping. Since then, however, he’d slept much lighter and woke up earlier. He’d actually been staring down at Aminah coming up the driveway from her window seat in their bedroom. He’d observed her from the top of the staircase reaching for the mistletoe above the doorway and covering her mouth in awe of all the flowers.

  Fame took one deliberate and quiet step at a time. He hadn’t wanted to disturb Aminah’s moment, but she’d heard him step off the bottom step and quickly spun around.

  They both stood motionless for a few seconds.

  Fame moved first.

  He scooped Aminah up, cradling her head with one arm and wrapping the other tightly around her waist while burying his head into the crook of her neck. He shut his eyes and inhaled her scent. She caressed the back of his neck.

  He wept.

  They stood there holding each other for only a minute or two, though it felt more like an hour.

  “God, I’ve missed you,” Fame said, touching her new hairstyle. “You look breathtaking.”

  “You like it?” Aminah asked, wiping his face.

  “I love it, Minah. You look beautiful, baby.”

  He finally released her. He scanned the foyer, walked along the edge of the living and dining room, and then opened the front door. “Where are your bags, baby?” Fame asked, concerned. “You’re here to stay, right, Aminah?”

  Aminah cleared her throat.

  “Let’s sit down,” Aminah said, leading him into their living room. “We need to talk.”

  “Please, Minah, baby. I can’t take it. As God is my witness, my heart can’t take it.”

  “Wait a minute, Fame. Hear me out.”

  Fam
e sighed heavily and dropped his head in disbelief, shaking it from side to side.

  “Look at me, Fame.”

  Fame kept his head low.

  “I can’t talk to you if don’t look at me.”

  Fame shook his head again. He was emotionally spent. “Minah, baby, I think I’ve finally reached my breaking point.” Fame’s voice cracked. “I’m not sure I can take what you have to say, Minah. I’ve been really goin’ through it. I can’t. I’m tellin’ you. I can’t.”

  “You think I haven’t been going through it, too, Fame?”

  He finally looked up at his wife. As difficult as it was to look at her and not cry again, he swallowed a couple times, forcing back the tears. And as hard as it was not to physically drag her up the stairs and permanently lock her in their bedroom, he restrained himself.

  “I can no longer be in a relationship, in a marriage, where I am blatantly disrespected and my feelings are disregarded,” Aminah said, looking at her husband squarely. “I can no longer excuse and ignore unacceptable behavior from my spouse and my partner in life. I never, ever wanted…” She paused to keep her own emotions in check. “Never imagined raising my children without their father in the home. But…”

  “Aminah. Baby, please don’t…”

  “No, Fame, I can’t, and I won’t. I am not the same woman, Fame. I am not the same wife. Hell, I’m not even the same mother. No one’s needs, not yours, not even Alia’s and Amir’s, are coming before my own. And quite frankly, I don’t know if you’ll like the me I’m becoming, and so—”

  “I’ll like her,” Fame interrupted, grabbing Aminah’s face and kissing her. “I’ll love her, I’ll adore her, just don’t leave me again, baby, please—”

  “No, Fame, listen to me,” Aminah said, taking his hands off her face and holding them in her own. “I am not staying—”

  “Please don’t leave me, Minah,” Fame begged, getting down on his knees in front of her. “Please, baby.”

  He laid his head in her lap and wept again.

  Aminah rubbed the back of his head. She blinked back tears.

  “I am not staying in a marriage with a cheating husband. I deserve better.”

  She lifted his head off her lap.

  “I can get better, Fame,” she stated, staring him directly into his eyes. “Are you still a cheating husband, Aaron ‘Famous’ Anderson?”

  Fame kissed Aminah softly on her lips.

  “I love you, Minah,” he said, grabbing her face. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved, and I want you to know that, to really know that, to feel that.”

  Aminah looked away, but Fame turned her head to face him again. He held her chin.

  “I hate myself for jeopardizing what I value most. You. Us. Our family. I hate that I’m responsible for you not feeling completely secure in our marriage. But as God is my witness, Minah, I promise, if you give me another chance, I’ll make it up to you. Please forgive me, baby.”

  She looked away again. He turned her toward him again.

  “And, no, I’m not still a cheating husband. I’m your dedicated husband committed to making you unbelievably happy. Come back to me, Aminah. Please, baby, please come back to me.”

  A tear slid down her cheek. He kissed it away. He kissed her neck, her chin, and then her forehead.

  “I came home to stay,” Aminah finally said.

  Fame lifted Aminah off the couch and spun her around. Aminah giggled and screamed, pleading with Fame to put her down. He finally did and asked Aminah where all her bags were if she’d planned on staying all along.

  “In the Range, babe,” she said, smiling. “I just needed you to carry them in.”

  Alia and Amir woke up twenty minutes later, pleasantly yet awkwardly surprised to find their mother smoothing down the front of her red dress and their father straightening out the waistband of his sweatpants in front of the Christmas tree.

  “Mommy’s home!” Amir yelled, running into her arms. “Told you, Daddy.”

  “You sure did, ’Mir.”

  “Mommy!” Alia yelled, joining in for a group hug.

  Fame broke out the DVD camcorder to film Aminah and the children opening up all their presents. Aminah told Fame she’d gotten him something months ago but changed her mind about giving it to him. He didn’t care. Her return home had been the only gift he’d desired and prayed for.

  After making breakfast for the family, Fame told Alia and Amir to keep themselves occupied for the next hour or two with their new iPods, video games, clothes, and books while he made up for some lost time with their mother.

  Fame swept Aminah up in his arms and carried her up to their bedroom. She playfully squirmed in a weak protest. He’d wanted her to hear this classic Angela Bofill song he’d fallen asleep to practically every night since she’d left him.

  Fame gently placed his wife down on their twelve-foot-wide, ten-foot-long, pillow-topped bed and then cued up “This Time I’ll Be Sweeter.” He sang softly in Aminah’s ear while the late, great Ms. Bofill sang sweetly above from the ceiling speakers.

  Fame lifted Aminah’s dress above her head.

  Darling, can’t you see what losing you has done to me.

  He slid off her bra and panties.

  He pulled her up to stand naked in front of him as he blindfolded her with her satin belt and then lightly fingered her from the top of her scalp to the tips of her toes.

  He slowly ran his warm tongue from the back of her knees to the nape of her neck.

  Aminah removed her blindfold and then her husband’s clothes.

  I won’t mess around. I won’t let you down.

  They made love, slowly and tenderly. It took all of Fame’s stamina and willpower not to come inside his wife as soon as he entered her. He hadn’t gone that long without sex since he’d started having it, not counting the quickie they’d just had right before their children had awakened.

  Aminah’s body convulsed. She relaxed her thighs’ tight grip from around Fame’s waist as he moaned in satisfaction, finally releasing himself inside his wife.

  Chapter 25

  “There is in fact a cheating curve, rules of fidelity that we bend depending on the caliber of the man, how much we have vested, and, quite frankly, exactly how much bullshit we’re willing to put up with….”

  “I gotta get him back, Aminah.”

  “Really? And in whose best interest would that be? Yours or his?”

  “Would you like the same color on your feet?” the manicurist asked Aminah before Lang answered her.

  “Ours,” Lang stated with the resolution of a chubby chick on her first day at Jenny Craig.

  The ladies were enjoying their first Sessions of the year at Pretty Inside. It’d been a little over a week since Aminah had left a broken-hearted Lang snoring at the Ritz. They’d spoken daily, and Aminah knew headstrong Lang would rebound quickly, just not this quickly. In fact, it was actually Lang who had insisted they keep their biweekly appointment at Pretty Inside when Aminah’d offered to cancel it.

  “I don’t lose,” Lang continued. “I win. I’m a winner. You went back to Fame. I can go back to Sean. You took Fame back. Sean can take me back.”

  Aminah shook her head in disbelief as Erika refilled their flutes with Lang’s favorite champagne. She was hosting her New Year’s pamper celebration for her favorite clients.

  “It’s different, Lang,” Aminah said, admiring the cotton-candy color on her fingers and toes. She was feeling pink again. “Different situations. Different people. Besides, you should be focusing more on you, not him.”

  “Yeah, right,” Lang responded, twisting her mouth in complete disagreement. “That’s exactly the kind of thinking that got me into this situation.”

  Lang had awakened Christmas afternoon headache-free, mind clear. One night of torrential wailing was more than enough for her. Crying simply wasn’t her style.

  She had listened to all the new messages on her cell phone before making her way to the bathroom. Most of
the calls had been holiday wishes from friends and family, including Aminah and the Anderson clan. Four were from her mother—“Where are you?” “Please call me.” “I’m worried.” “Sean told me.” None were from him though.

  Lang had reached toward the mirror above the bathroom sink and outlined her face, marveling a bit at the new shape and texture of her eyelids. She had favored a one-round Mike Tyson opponent circa 1988. She’d gently caressed her face with both hands the same sort of way models do in those facial cleanser commercials. She massaged her temples before carefully stroking her eyelids.

  “This is not you, Langston Neale Rogers,” she said to her reflection. “I don’t know who this is staring back at me, but it’s not you.”

  Lang applied warm compresses to her face, ordered the tea bags and cucumbers per Aminah’s instructions, and then called her mother to let her know she was staying at the Ritz and to reassure her that she was okay—not fine, but okay.

  Mrs. Burgess had begged Lang to come home. “You don’t owe me an explanation, though I mean, of course, I’d like one.”

  Lang didn’t want to be around family, hers or anyone else’s. And she especially didn’t want to talk about Sean and her marriage or lack thereof.

  “You know your sister and the twins flew in from California,” Mrs. Burgess continued. “It’d be a shame if—”

  “How long are they here?” Lang interrupted. She’d forgotten her big sis was in town.

  “Their flight leaves early in the morning on the thirty-first. I think she and Keith are flying to Vegas for some New Year’s Eve party, and the kids are goin’—”

  “Excellent,” Lang interrupted again. “So I’ll see them way before they leave. In fact, I’ll take the twins ice-skating in Rockefeller Center—no, Prospect Park, maybe—um, tomorrow. And I’ll get my hands on some front-row seats to A Raisin in the Sun for all of us. You’ll love Phylicia Rashad, Mom. Diddy’s actually pretty good, too. Sanaa Lathan’s impressive of course. We can all go. It’ll be my family gift.”