found nothing? I knew myself—I could hold my tongue for
a while, but soon, all of this rage was going to explode out
of me.
Turning toward the window, I looked out onto the
manicured lawn outside of the sanctuary. I closed my eyes
and said a prayer, asking God to bring whatever was in the
dark to light. I needed to know the TRUTH.
“First Lady?”
Lizzy’s voice and the tap on the door made me swing
my chair around. She walked toward me, holding a stuffed
folder, but her eyes were clouded with her concern. “Are you
all right?”
I nodded. “I am. I just had...a rough weekend. A flu bug.
But I’m better now.”
My Word | 171
“Okay,” she said, but her tone let me know that she
doubted my words. “You know I can hold everything down
if you want to go home and rest. You may need to do that.”
“No, I’m good,” I said. “Did you need me for something?”
She shook her head. “No, these are just the receipts for
the credit card bills. American Express and Bank of America
are in there.” She placed the folder on my desk and I nodded.
“Okay, I’ll go through them.”
She turned toward the door, then stopped and faced me
again. “You know I’m here if you need me.”
I frowned. Why would she say that? Did she know
something about what was going on with Jeremy? When
Lizzy left me alone, I blew out a log breath. That text had
turned me into something I’d never been before—paranoid.
How many times had Lizzy spoken those same words to me
over the years? And never before had I questioned what she’d
meant.
Shaking my head, I grabbed the folder. The least I could
do today was reconcile the credit card statements with the
receipts, so that I could give approval for Lizzy to pay the
bills. This was easy enough; something I did so often, I could do it in my sleep.
I laid out the receipts and began checking each off on the
statements. There were dozens of receipts for supplies, and
then, meals out. There were a couple of receipts for purchases at a bookstore and then the flowers that were sent from our
unofficial flower ministry.
172 | Gizel e Bryant
I paused and then eyed all the receipts again. Could what
I be looking for be right here in front of my face? I studied
each of the receipts—the supplies. There was nothing there.
The restaurants. There were thirteen meals this month, but
how could I find out who had been to each of the restaurants
with Jeremy? Half of the time, I was with him. Maybe I could
go over his calendar with Lizzy. Turning to the receipts from
the book store—nothing. The flowers.
I paused. There had been five orders for flowers this
month. I’d called in one myself for Mother Hayden. This was a
long shot, but I’d start here and then move to the restaurants.
I picked up my cell and searched for the number to the
flower shop we always used. When the young man answered,
I said, “Hello, this is Ginger Williams from New Kingdom
Temple.”
“Oh, hey, First Lady,” the young man said. “This is Elliott
Austin. You probably don’t know me with all the people there,
but I love you and Reverend Williams.”
“Oh, thank you, Elliott. Listen, I’m calling about the
flowers we’ve ordered in the last few weeks. I think there’s a discrepancy.”
“What? On our end?”
“Oh no, no,” I was quick to say. “I just need to reconcile
our records. Do you keep receipts for all of the flowers we
ordered?”
“Yes ma’am. We keep records back for years now that
everything is digital.”
My Word | 173
“Great. So can you tell me the names of the people we
sent flowers to this month?”
“Sure. It’s not confidential since you’re the ones who sent
the flowers.” He laughed as if that was the funniest thing he’d ever said. I chuckled only to keep my heart from pounding
its way out of my chest.
“Okay, let’s see what we have here. It seems you ordered
five arrangements this month.”
That was what we ordered, but I said, “Five. Are you sure?”
“Yes. To a Tory Blunt.”
That was one of the young girls who’d fallen off a swing
at school.
He said, “Those were sent to Children’s hospital.”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Then,” he said, “one was sent to Beatrice Hayden.”
Mother Hayden. “Yes, I actually picked those up myself
and took them to her....” My voice trailed off because this was so stupid. Flowers were too obvious, I needed to start with
the restaurants.
“And a bouquet, oh, a big one was sent to Katrina
Brunson.”
My heart stopped. Or maybe it wasn’t my heart. Maybe
it was time altogether. Because I felt like I was frozen in the moment.
“K....” I had to pause to inhale more oxygen. “Brunson.
That one. That’s not familiar,” I said, sounding like I was
breathing through my nose.
174 | Gizel e Bryant
“Really?” I heard his concern. “I’m so sorry, First Lady.
Is there anything we can do? You can call up the credit card
company and report it as fraud.”
“Oh, no, I don’t think I’ll have to do that,” I said, feeling
bad I’d told all these lies. “You know what. Can you just give me the address it was delivered to? Then, I can reconcile it
with our records and see....”
“Sure,” he said and began reading off the number and the
street. I jotted down the address on 4th Street in Southeast.
“Thank you again, Elliott.”
“Wait, do you want the other names?”
“No, I think I’ll start here and if I need any more
information, I’ll let you know.”
“Okay, I’ll see you Sunday and I hope we get this all
worked out.”
When I hung up, I had to force myself to breathe. Inhale.
Exhale. Repeat.
I had a name. I had a telephone number...and now, I had
an address.
Oh, and I had one more thing.
Katrina.
At least, Jeremy wasn’t screwing a man.
I exhaled.
Chapter Fourteen
I was really sitting here. In my car, in front of this townhouse on 4th Street in Southeast. Sitting here, like I was a
common stalker.
Yawning, I closed my eyes for a second, something I’d
hardly done last night. It had been difficult to do anything
after Elliott had given me this information about Katrina. I’d wanted to run over here as soon as I had her address yesterday, but I’d focused my attention on my children rather than on
the woman my husband was screwing. And there was no way
I was going to come over here with them in the back seat of
my car. As long as I could help it, drama and crazy would
not be a part of their lives, even though Jeremy had brought
drama and crazy into our home.
Jeremy. He’d returned home last night before dinner, just
like he’d said. So th
at part wasn’t his lie.
It was amazing that I hadn’t confronted my husband. I
hadn’t confronted him when he’d sat down with us at dinner,
175
176 | Gizel e Bryant
I hadn’t confronted him while he worked in our home office
afterwards, and I hadn’t shaken him awake and confronted
him last night as he snored and I lay awake in the dark
wondering about Katrina.
I’d done it, though. I’d made it all the way through to this
moment without saying a word. Because I wanted the truth
and I trusted this woman to tell me the truth more than I
trusted my husband.
That made me shake my head. This was what crazy looked
like. But I didn’t mind because if there was one thing I’d
learned from my mother, it was that I had to get my ducks in
a row. I needed to know the answers, then, ask the questions.
Putting my hand on the car handle, I paused. Did I real y
want to do this? Right now, Jeremy could be in there with
her—or not. Katrina could be at work—or not. She could
be....“Stop it, Ginger,” I told myself. Either I was going to do this—or not.
But still, I didn’t move. I just sat and watched the
personification of D.C.’s gentrification all around me. Young
people jogging, couples pushing strollers, folks walking dogs—
all of this being done by people who would have never driven
through this neighborhood, not even with armed guards, ten
years ago.
Ten years ago. That was when it all began for me and
Jeremy. We’d had so many good years in between then and
now, so did I really want to know? Did I really want to rock
our marriage?
My Word | 177
Before I finished asking myself the question, I already
knew the answer. Yes! I wanted to know for me...and for
Jasmine and Jayden. Thinking about my children made me
swallow hard. Knocking on this door would have implications
far beyond me.
I took a deep breath as if there was courage inside of the
air’s oxygen. It was enough to propel me out of the car and
once I did that, I kept it moving, not giving myself a chance to turn back or think this through. At the front door, I knocked, then reminded myself to inhale, exhale, repeat.
There was no answer and I felt...relieved. Maybe I didn’t
want to know. Or maybe it was best to just get the answers
from Jeremy.
Then, the door opened.
My assessment was quick: petite, about five-two, no taller
than Jada. Young, about Jada’s age. Smooth skin, the color of
butterscotch and a figure that belonged to a woman pre any
pregnancies. She was more pretty than cute, and she was one
other thing—smart. Because a flash of recognition crossed her
face, but then, just as quickly, she recovered and asked, “May I help you?” as if I was a stranger.
I was a stranger, but I was a stranger that she knew. She
was poised, I had to give her that.
“You tell me, can you help me?”
Her eyes were like a scanner, capturing every inch of me
from the sunglasses resting on top of my head to my yellow
T-strap sundress, and she ended at my sandals. When her
178 | Gizel e Bryant
eyes connected with mine again, she smirked. “You came to
my door. So please, answer my question. May I help you?”
I hadn’t played the tape of this confrontation all the way
through because I didn’t expect to be having this conversation on anybody’s doorstep in full public view. But since it didn’t look like I was going to receive an invitation inside, I said,
“Yes, you can help me. I’d like some answers.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What’s your question?”
There was no point in standing on someone’s doorstep in
the heat of a D.C. August afternoon and playing games. So, I
got right to it. “What’s going on with you and my husband?”
She didn’t miss a beat when she said, “You might need to
have that conversation with him.”
I noted she asked no question about who was my husband.
She just stood there, feisty and bold. She wasn’t what I
expected, but then what had I been expecting? How could
a wife ever be expecting to find out that her husband had a
chick on the side? I asked, “So, you do know my husband?”
Now, she rolled her eyes and laughed. Crossing her arms,
she leaned against the door frame. “Everybody knows your husband.”
“Then you know why I’m here,” I replied. “I’m trying to
figure out what’s going on between the two of you.”
“And every time you ask that question, I’m going to give
you the same answer. That’s a conversation you need to have
with him.”
“I will. But I’d like to start with you.”
My Word | 179
Suddenly, she sighed as if she’d been entertained, but was
tired of the show now. “Look, I’m not gonna get into this with you. I’m not gonna confirm or deny. Just go home and have
this conversation with J.”
My eyes narrowed. J. She’d just confirmed.
So what was I supposed to do now? On television, on
one of those reality shows, if this had happened, this chick
would’ve been snatched out of her home by her hair, then
beaten down in the middle of the street, left there to be rolled over by a taxi.
But I wasn’t a reality star so I just stared at her, wondering if I should persist. And she stared at me, showing that her
plan was to resist. There was no need for this to continue.
Just as I turned away, though, Katrina said, “But I will tell
you this; I’m not the one you need to be concerned about.”
“Excuse me?” I said.
She sighed, rolled her eyes, then bit her bottom lip as if
she was trying to make a decision. “You know what? It seems
like the gig is up anyway, since he won’t even call me back.”
She crossed her arms in defiance. “No need for me to protect
him when he’s treating me like some kind of booty call. He
thinks he can just call me, get hooked up, then ignore me for
weeks until he needs to get hooked up again. So yeah, I’ll tell you.” With a nod, she said, “J and I are messing around. I just saw him the other night when he got home from Atlanta. He
came here to me instead of going home to you.” She smirked.
I wondered what it was—was it me being the daughter
of a pastor, or me growing up in Jack and Jill, or the poise
180 | Gizel e Bryant
I’d learned as a debutante...or was it my training as a First
Lady? I didn’t know what it was from my past that gave me
the fortitude to stand there without bursting into tears like a toddler or stabbing her in her neck like a serial killer.
Whatever it was that kept me strong, allowed me to
absorb her words, even though they felt like bullets breaking
deep into my chest.
“But like I said,” she continued, “I am not your problem.
‘Cause J ain’t serious about me. He left here Friday morning
and I haven’t heard from him since. But I know why. Because
of that skank. She’s the one you need to be checking for.”
“Who?”
She held up her hand. “I’m not giving you anymore, not
that I have more to give. You’re on your own from here. But
all I got to say is she’s the real hoe. He’s been cheating on
me with her the whole time, always talking about breaking it
off with her and he never does.” Her tone was filled with all
kinds of attitude.
Cheating on her? Ummm...WHAT? This woman had just admitted to having an affair with my husband and she was
pissed about some other woman? My head was spinning with
confusion. My husband was cheating with Katrina, but he had
another woman, too?
I had only one thought at first: when in the world did
Jeremy have time? I shook my head. I had no idea why
Katrina would add another woman to the mix. Maybe just to
do maximum damage to me and Jeremy.
My Word | 181
“So really,” she continued, “I would advise you to talk to
your husband and check out that other one who’s about to
bring you a whole bunch of trouble.”
And with that, she slammed the door right in my face.
d
Before I went to college, my mother sat me down and
gave me what she called her pearls of wisdom:
“Never rely on a man for money.”
“Never sleep with a man if you’re not willing for him to be the father of your children.”
“Never make a decision when you’re angry.”
“Never show your full hand when you’re in the middle of a
negotiation.”
It was her last two pearls that rang in my ears now. I
was angry, beyond that really. In fact, there wasn’t a word to describe all of my emotions. So, I needed to rely on one of
those pearls—this was not the time to make a decision.
And I had a full hand. I had the truth and now, I had to
determine when and how to use it. It was going to be even
more difficult to hold everything inside. How could I not slap the slime out of Jeremy with what I knew?
That was why I was still sitting in the car. Because Jeremy’s
Jag was in the garage. I had no idea why he was home so early, but I knew I couldn’t go inside our home. Not yet. I didn’t
have the ability to walk into the house and not turn into a
wife scorned.
182 | Gizel e Bryant
But I couldn’t sit in the car until I figured out what to do.
So, I slid out and as I walked toward the door, I pressed play on the button that had my mother’s words in my memory:
Never show your full hand....
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