My Word_Interior.indd

by Gizelle Bryant

  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....