My Word_Interior.indd

by Gizelle Bryant

  tentative, though, as if he wasn’t sure if I would move or

  maybe slap him away.

  I didn’t.

  His lips covered mine and still I didn’t move. My hands

  stayed by my side, my lips did not invite him in. But for some reason when he leaned back, there was a smile on his face. As

  if he had no clue that was our final kiss.

  “So we’re good?” he said, and that made me ask myself—

  did Jeremy really think I was that pathetic?

  My response: I stepped away from him, but only to reach

  for my bag and I pulled out the envelope.

  When I faced him, Jeremy was already trembling. His

  eyes were on what I held and he was already afraid. His

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  hands shook when I handed him the manila envelope. Did

  he somehow know what was inside?

  Still, he asked, “What is this?”

  I said nothing, just watched him pull out the paper that

  I’d read hours before. And then, I watched his eyes buck in

  horror. That broke me again, because he was filled with horror, but not surprise.

  “So, I guess our two children are not your only ones.” He

  was still staring at the paper. “Congratulations, you’re a daddy again.”

  I wasn’t sure if his silence was because of his shock or his

  story—the one he was trying to come up with for me.

  Finally, he stuttered, Wh-How...?”

  “Are you asking how did I find out?” He didn’t move, just

  kept staring at the paper he held in his trembling hand. “I

  told you. First Lady Sonya came to me, but I was bound to

  find out since half of the population in D.C. seemed to know.”

  Jeremy released the paper, letting it float slowly through

  the air until it landed at his feet. But he didn’t look down.

  “Babe, I...I can explain.”

  “There’s no need to explain. I know what happened. You

  were in bed with me one night and you went and screwed

  Sharonne the next night. And she, got pregnant. Didn’t she

  tell you?”

  He rubbed his hands over his head as if he were trying to

  massage out a good thought, something that could save him.

  “It’s not even like that. It didn’t happen like that.”

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  I frowned. “I know how babies are made.”

  He still didn’t look at me. “This is something that just....”

  “Let me guess, you just happened to fall into

  Sharonnne’s....”

  Before I could finish, he shouted, “No! It’s just that....”

  “You’ve been living a LIE,” I said, matching his volume.

  “Our whole damn marriage has been a lie.”

  “That’s not true, you know how much I love you.”

  “Real y?” My voice was one decibel below a scream. I

  snatched the paper from the floor. “Is this your idea of love?”

  I mashed it against his face. “Is this how you show someone

  that you love them?”

  “Babe.”

  “Don’t babe me,” I said, now feeling totally out of control.

  “Don’t ever babe me again!”

  He shook his head as if he didn’t accept my words. “Look,

  we can work through this. We have to work through this.”

  “Are you kidding me? I’m supposed to just stand by you

  while you raise a child with another woman? And not only are

  you a cheater, but you stood here and lied to my face about it.”

  “No, I’ve already been talking to her....”

  My shoulders sagged and so did Jeremy’s as he realized

  what he’d just said.

  “Look, Ginger,” his voice was softer now, “I did know

  about this, not right away, but...Sharonne did tell me.”

  “When?” I wasn’t sure why I was asking for the details. It

  would just be more torture. But for some reason, I wanted to

  know. So I asked, “When did you find out?”

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  “She was about to give birth. She was about to have the

  baby. She wanted me to come to New Orleans to be with her.”

  I shook my head, my rage moving aside to make room for

  all of my sadness.

  “But I didn’t go!” he said, as if that was some kind of

  virtue. “I didn’t go because I thought Sharonne was lying. I

  hadn’t seen her in months; I’d broken it off.”

  His words reminded me of Katrina’s: Always talking about

  breaking it off with her and he never does.

  He continued, “I thought she was just trying to trap me

  because of who I was. So, I didn’t go,” he repeated. “I didn’t go to New Orleans. I wasn’t there when her baby was born,”

  he said as if the child was Sharonne’s alone.

  “Something must’ve happened because you knew Andre

  was your son.”

  He glanced at me as if he was surprised I knew his son’s

  name. “She said she wanted to do a paternity test and I went

  along with it because I didn’t want her to take it public.”

  “And so you found out and...what?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tel you, Ginger. I’ve been

  talking to her. We can pay her off and she’ll go away. We’re

  just negotiating the price now.”

  “The price?” I frowned.

  “Yeah, Clyde is working this out.”

  “Oh, God,” I said. “He knows, too?” I threw up my

  hands. Then, turning to him, I spat, “I guess you didn’t learn everything from your mentor. Reverend Robinson kept his

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  mess away from everyone. He was a liar and a cheat, but at

  least he was a smart one for years.”

  My words hit my target—his heart. Jeremy was still filled

  with pain because he’d never heard from the man who’d called

  him son after that day Reverend Robinson confessed his sin

  on the altar. There were times when I felt like that was what

  motivated him to get to where he was today. He wanted to be

  bigger than his mentor. He wanted to be better. But in truth,

  they were the same. Both with a family on the side.

  “It isn’t like that at all,” he whispered. “I want to do right by you.”

  His words surprised me so much, I pressed my hands

  against my chest. “And what about your child? Don’t you want

  to do right by him?”

  “That’s what we’re negotiating,” he said as if that point

  should have been clear to me.

  I shook my head. “There’s nothing for you to negotiate.

  You need to take care of your baby and save that money; you’re going to need it.”

  I grabbed my bag and moved toward to leave Jeremy and

  his drama all alone.

  But he blocked my path. “What are you talking about,

  Ginger?”

  “I’m out.” I paused, wanting to make sure that not only

  had he heard me, but that he understood me, too. “Tomorrow

  the children and I are moving out.”

  “You can’t do that. You can’t leave me. You can’t take my

  children away from me.”

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  “Watch me.”

  “You can’t do this, Ginger. You will destroy everything.”

  “You’re the one who destroyed everything,” I said,

  punching him in the chest with my forefinger, though I really

  wanted to use my fist. “I loved
you with everything inside of

  me. I gave you my ALL.”

  “And now, if you’ll give me time, I will make this up to

  you. I promise you, it will never happen again.”

  “Damn straight it won’t. Not to me.”

  I marched from the living room and then, toward the

  stairs, but before I could take a step up, he grabbed my arm,

  stopping me. My heart was beating fast, my breaths were

  coming quick as I glanced down to where he held me. When

  I raised my eyes, I glared at him with all of my rage, trying to bore a hole into his soul. “I don’t want to get into anything

  more with you, Jeremy,” I began through clenched teeth,

  because my children are right up these stairs. But if you

  don’t let me go, I promise you what will happen next, will be

  Washington Post front page news worthy, Jeremy. Don’t try

  me.”He didn’t release his grip. “I just want you to understand.

  I just want you to give me another chance,” he pleaded.

  “There can’t be a second chance,” I said as nonchalantly as

  I could with a heart that was crashing against my chest, “with an outside child. Now let go of me, or you will pay the price.”

  It was my words and my tone, I was sure. Slowly, his

  fingers uncurled from around my arm. With a final glare, I

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  stomped up the stairs, though the strength that I moved with

  belied the ache that rolled through every bit of me.

  My life as I knew it was over, forever. Jeremy thought that

  I was walking away from $8 million, but I didn’t care about

  that. Jeremy was the one who’d changed because of the money

  and the power. Not me.

  What I was walking away from was the man who’d broken

  my heart and he didn’t have the tools nor the capacity to put

  us back together. And because of that, there was nothing more

  that I could do.

  Because of that, this was O.V.E.R.

  Epilogue

  “Well, if it isn’t my best friend in the whole wide

  world.”

  I looked up from my iPad where I had been engrossed in

  Michelle Obama’s book, to see Dru standing over me with

  that sunshine smile that I’d missed so much.

  “Hey, Girl,” I exclaimed as I leapt up to hug her. “How

  are you?”

  She squeezed me tight, then took a step back, her eyes

  running from my honey blonde pixie cut down to my red

  bottom spiked boots. “Not as good as you, obviously. You’re

  looking fabulous as always.” She snapped her fingers. “Dang,

  talk about divorce looking good on somebody.”

  It was meant to be a light comment, but it took away just

  a little bit of my joy. “Divorce is never cause to celebrate.” But I appreciated the compliment and managed a smile. “But, you

  know I have to stay on point.”

  We stepped aside to let another Starbucks customer pass

  to take a seat at the table adjacent from us, then, we slid into 281

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  the chairs at the table where I’d been sitting. Once she was

  settled, Dru asked, “How are you really?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “I tell you that every time we talk.”

  “Yeah, but you’re all the way in Dallas now and when I

  can’t lay my eyes on you, I don’t feel like I know what’s really going on for real.”

  “What are you talking about?” I chuckled. “You were just

  in Dallas with me last month.”

  “And? That was a whole thirty-four days ago.”

  “Well I was good then, and I’m good now.” I nodded

  as that revelation sank in. I really was doing well, even as

  I had wondered what it would be like to set foot back in

  D.C. I hadn’t returned to the DMV since the movers had

  backed the 26 foot truck up to our dream home, packed up

  half of our furniture and everything that belonged to me and

  the children, and then headed south, the beginning of my

  nightmare of starting over.

  Dru cocked her head and studied me. “I’m glad to hear

  that, Ginger. Really, I am.” She gave me a once-over once

  again. “Girl, if the First Ladies Council could see you now.

  Talking about how your life was going to be over if you left

  Jeremy.” She waved her hands as if she was pushing away the

  words Sonya and Cecily had spoken over my life.

  I shook my head as I thought of the First Ladies crew.

  The women who’d crawled all up in my business and told me

  we were family...and the women who, when I’d tried to reach

  out to them once I got to Dallas because I wanted the Dress

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  for Success program to continue, never returned a single call.

  And not one of them could say it was a cell phone issue since

  texts and emails went unanswered as well.

  That still made me shake my head a bit, though I guess

  I shouldn’t have been surprised. It wasn’t like this had come

  out of the blue, Sonya had warned me:

  You cannot leave your husband because if you do...I’m afraid you will regret it. And that’s not a threat, that’s a promise.

  I hadn’t known what she’d meant by that the day she and

  Cecily had ambushed me in my office, but I knew now—I’d

  been voted off the island, which I’m sure wasn’t a hard vote for them to take. I guess since I’d shamed them, they shunned me.

  “Well, no matter what they said, my life isn’t over,” I said.

  “I haven’t even been at the ad agency for six months, and I’ve already secured my first client.”

  “Really?” Dru clapped. “You didn’t tell me.”

  “Just got the news the day before yesterday. So the way

  I see it, I may be ten years late getting started, but give me a minute and I’ll have my own agency up and running.”

  “See,” she held out her hands as if she were making a

  point, “divorce is doing you good.”

  “No, I’m making the best of a bad situation.” I pointed

  toward the barista. “Do you want something to drink?”

  “No, I’m good.” After a couple of seconds of silence, Dru

  said softly, “I’m really glad to see you, but I’m surprised you came,” changing the tenor of our conversation.

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  “If I’m being honest, I am, too.” I fingered my chai tea as

  I replayed Jeremy’s request to bring the children to D.C. for

  the church’s eleventh anniversary celebration.

  “I understand if you can’t bring yourself to attend, but I really would like the children there,” he said.

  Recalling his words when he’d called a month ago, I hadn’t

  made any promises to him then. But last week, I’d returned

  his call and told him the children would be here. When he

  kept thanking me over and over, I heard the first moments

  of joy from Jeremy since our divorce had been finalized five

  months ago.

  It had been a quick divorce for me and Jeremy. Truly, I

  blinked and our marriage was over. It had been easy since

  we’d been married in D.C. and the district had such a short

  process. And it helped that (to my surprise), Jeremy had not

  contested it and we’d been amicable.

  That was a blessing because I hadn’t been sure which way

  this wind was goi
ng to blow. When I’d walked away from my

  husband, Amazon had walked away from him. But a surprise

  for me was that like me, Jeremy wasn’t pressed about Amazon.

  He cared more about losing his family than losing that deal.

  It was just too bad that his care had come far too late.

  I didn’t doubt Jeremy’s sincerity. He had begged me just

  about every day in every conversation we had for another

  chance. But I was like that tree planted by the water, and

  when Jeremy finally realized that I could not be moved, he’d

  told his attorney to give me whatever I wanted. I’d been hurt,

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  but I wasn’t vindictive, so through our attorneys, we worked

  together for a settlement that was fair.

  His pleas hadn’t ended there, though. Jeremy asked me for

  another chance right up until the moment I signed my name

  on those papers, ending our union and his chances.

  “So, how was the anniversary celebration?” I asked,

  bringing my thoughts back to the present.

  “It was nice.” She nodded. “I’m glad I went. It was a far

  cry from the drama of the tenth anniversary.”

  I shook my head as I recalled that fiasco. On the day of

  the tenth anniversary celebration, my children and I were on

  Interstate 81, still five hours away from my mother’s home in

  Dallas. But while I didn’t show up, Sharonne did. With her

  baby boy in tow.

  Dru had filled me in (and Lizzy had done the same for my

  mom) on every word and every moment of the debacle: How

  Sharonne had slinked down the center aisle of the church,

  wearing one of her signature spandex dresses, while Jeremy

  gave his sermon of appreciation for all that God had done for

  him. How he’d started to stutter when he noticed Sharron

  and even though he’d signaled the deacons, it was too late to

  stop her. How she’d shouted above the noise (somehow, the

  church band had begun playing a song in the middle of the

  madness), telling Jeremy that it was time for him to introduce his son to his congregation.

  And how when after Sharonne’s announcement and hell

  had broken loose, Jeremy had broken out. The deacons had

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  shuttled him out of and away from that church and he hadn’t

  been seen or heard from for a week after that. The only way I

  was sure he was all right was that he called the kids diligently every evening to ask about their day and to tell them good