by RM Johnson
It was a cute little family hug, Monica thought, feeling herself becoming even more angry, thinking that he could use his child, and the fact that she couldn’t have any, to cover up for all that he had done. How dare he? How fucking dare he!
“Take her,” Monica said, pushing Layla toward Lewis.
“What?”
“Take her!”
“Why?”
“Because this is not my child, and you’re not my man, and the only reason you’re saying any of this is because you’re broke, and you need someone to watch after your daughter.”
“That’s not true, and you know it!”
“I don’t care,” Monica said, hurrying to the door.
“So what are you going to do? Go back to your husband, when you know he doesn’t want you?”
Monica didn’t respond, just reached for the doorknob.
“I love you!” Lewis said.
Monica turned the knob, flung open the door.
“We need you!”
And then Monica paused; just for a second, she stopped, before stepping out of the house after hearing what Lewis had said to her. They needed her. Out of nowhere, a million images flooded her brain, of the three of them together, of Monica raising that child, of Monica being a mother. A mother! Then she stepped out of Lewis’s house and slammed the door behind her.
58
When Monica heard the front door of the penthouse opening, she was pulling the zipper closed on the huge suitcase she had quickly filled with as many clothes as she could, upon returning home.
When her husband entered, he had a huge smile on his face. He closed the door, actually skipped down the two stairs into the living room, practically ran over, hugged her, kissed her, and said, “Baby, I got surprises for you!”
Monica just stood there, leaning against the back of the couch, stupefied at how he could’ve orchestrated all that he had, and now could pretend that none of it had ever happened.
But then she started thinking as she had been doing while she stuffed her clothes into the suitcase, preparing to leave Nate for good. He did plan everything, set her up to cheat on him, but neither Nate nor Lewis held a gun to her head, forcing her to be unfaithful.
She could’ve turned Lewis down. She could’ve been stronger, dealt with the fact that Nate had been treating her badly, waited till things got better. But she didn’t. She committed adultery, and wasn’t that as bad as what her husband did? Wasn’t it worse?
Besides, he would be the one that would have to live with knowing that she was with another man, would be the one that had seen her with that man. And considering the way Nate was smiling, practically bouncing with excitement before her right now, he seemed as though he would be okay with that. All she had to do was not mention the fact that she knew.
Nate reached into his suit’s breast pocket, whipped out an envelope.
“Two tickets to Barbados, one of our favorite spots. I even got us a suite at the Mirage Hotel, the room facing the north shore. What do you say about that, honey?”
He was proud of himself, had no clue that she knew what he had done.
“That’s good, baby,” Monica heard herself say, still wondering what good it would do to expose her husband for the coward he was. She would tell him that she found him out, they would divorce, she would get money from him—that was, if he couldn’t prove her affair. And then what would happen? Where would she be then?
But if she said nothing, she would still have her marriage, still have her husband, and things would go back to the way they were.
Monica felt herself leaning in the direction of just keeping quiet, letting everything just blow over, and then fade away. But what would happen once Nate started wanting a family again? That was what sparked everything, and she knew that the same thing could happen once more, regardless of how much he tried to pretend that her being unable to have his children didn’t bother him.
That moment, Monica realized she couldn’t stay with him, and she opened her mouth to tell him that when Nate said, “I have another surprise for you.”
Again, out of his breast pocket, he pulled out some folded papers, and held them out for Monica to take.
She just stared down at them.
“Go ahead. Take them.”
She grabbed the papers, unfolded them, and immediately she recognized the writing on the letterhead. “True Home Adoption Agency,” it read.
“What’s this?” Monica asked, looking up at Nate.
“I went there this morning to see if little Nathaniel was still available. He was, baby. And I started the process. Mrs. Wolcott said there shouldn’t be any problem at all with us getting him,” Nate said, more excited than Monica could remember ever seeing him. “We’re going to have our son!” He threw himself at her again, hugging her tightly. “Aren’t you happy?” she heard him say.
“Yes,” Monica said, the word kind of seeping out of her lips. And she was actually happy, but there was an underlying sadness accompanying that, because now her decision was so much harder to make.
But she kept telling herself, all she had to do was just keep her fucking mouth shut and everything would be perfect.
Nate leaned away from her, still grabbing her by the shoulders, the huge grin plastered to his face. But when she looked up at him, Nate was looking strangely back at her, and said, “Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
Monica reached up, felt tears on her cheeks that she hadn’t realized were there.
“I know, it’s because of all of this, the vacation, the adoption, us getting back on track,” Nate said. “I understand, sweetheart, because from now on, things are going to be perfect between us.”
He let go of her, reached down, and grabbed the handle of her suitcase, and said, “I’m going to take this down to the car with my bags, because we should be heading to the airport. Are you ready?”
That was the question that Monica still couldn’t answer. Tears began to stream down her face even harder now, because she knew if she told him, she would retain whatever dignity she had left. She would be letting him know he wasn’t able to just treat her anyway that he chose, lie to her, just because she couldn’t have his babies. She was so much more than just a reproduction machine, and she would receive so much satisfaction in telling him just that.
But what would she have after that? Nothing. That’s why Monica said, “Yeah, I’m ready.”
“Good!” Nate said, cheerily, and started dragging the bag toward the door, as Monica watched.
She watched the man that she would spend the rest of her life with, the man that had gone through the trouble of booking their vacation, and gone through the trouble of going back to the adoption agency to secure the child that Monica knew she could one day love. But as she continued watching him, she realized that he was also the man that went through the trouble of finding pills that could render him impotent. He went to the trouble of paying some man, setting him up in a home, so Monica would fall for him, sleep with him. She remembered how Nate had told her that he had thought about divorce when she walked in the nursery to find it painted black. She remembered how he left her standing there in the living room naked, when she wanting nothing more than to just be acknowledged by her own husband. And then she remembered the evil look he gave her when he woke up, and found her trying to make love to him. She could even hear the words he had spoken to her—“Why would you want me to come in you? What good would come of it?”—as if they had just been said.
She knew then what her decision had to be.
Nate pulled the suitcase up the two stairs, reached out, opened the door, and was about to step out when Monica said, “Nate, wait!”
He turned. “What is it, baby? We’ll be late for the airport.”
“We aren’t going to the airport.”
“What?”
“Nate,” Monica said, wiping tears from her face. “I know about what you did. I know about it all.”
Nate released the suitcase, and it was
clear to him that the game was over.
59
Three weeks later, Monica stood at the checkout counter of the grocery store and watched as the cashier quickly scanned the groceries she was buying. She kept an eye on the steadily growing total, making sure that she would be able to cover the amount with what was in her checking account.
“That’ll be fifty-two fifty-six,” the woman said.
“Food is getting expensive, hunh?” Monica said. “Can I write a check?”
“Sure.”
Monica wrote the check, and jotted down the amount in the back of her checkbook, quickly balancing it, seeing that it was going to be tight the rest of the week till she got paid again.
After the bag boy packed her cart with her groceries, Monica wheeled the cart toward the exit of the store. It had started pouring again, so she opened her umbrella, and covered herself.
Monica quickly pushed the cart across the slick parking lot, and stopped at the back of the ’91 Saab she was now driving. She popped the hatch, then was about to load the car when someone stepped up behind her, startling her.
“Times ain’t like what they used to be, when you’re no longer married to a millionaire,” a woman’s voice said.
Monica spun around. “Who are you? And what did you say to me?”
The woman was wearing a long raincoat, a plastic scarf pulled over her hair, tied under her chin. She extended her hand. “My name is Tori Thomas. I used to be your husband’s secretary. You mind if we talk?”
Monica glanced up at the clouds. The rain had started falling harder.
“If you help me get these in my car.”
Tori helped Monica quickly throw the bags of groceries in her car, and they both hurried around and jumped in, slamming the doors.
Monica turned to Tori. “Now, what is it you want to talk to me about.”
“You were a hard person to find. I’ve been looking for you.”
“Looking for me for what?” Monica said, starting to lose her patience.
“I don’t know if you knew this or not, Mrs. Kenny, but me and your husband were having an affair.”
Monica didn’t speak a word, move an inch, didn’t even bat an eyelid.
“Mrs. Kenny,” Tori said, “did you hear what I just told you?”
“Yes, I heard,” Monica said, thinking that she should’ve been shocked, but she wasn’t. She should’ve been hurt, felt betrayed, and for the news that was just given her, she should’ve wanted to confront her husband, scream and yell, and demand he tell her how he could do such a thing to her. But Monica had already been through that, felt all those emotions, so all she could say now was, “So why are you telling me this now?”
“I would’ve told you sooner, but like I said, I had to find you first.”
“You found me, and I really need to get home before my ice cream melts, so if there’s nothing more you have to tell me—”
“There is,” Tori interrupted. “I know how much your husband hurt you, but he hurt me too. He was going to marry me, after he divorced you. I was going to have his children, but that never happened. He fired me, after he made those promises to me.”
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” Monica said, feeling anger all of sudden. “Get out of my car!” Monica said, reaching over Tori, trying to push her door open.
“Mrs. Kenny, please! Just hear me out. There’s a reason I’m telling you all of this.”
Monica calmed herself, leaned back into her seat, and listened.
“After he fired me, I called him, and told your husband I could still make his life difficult. I told him I needed to meet him to talk. He agreed.”
“So.”
“So, when we met, we had sex one last time. I had him explain to me why he couldn’t continue seeing me, why we couldn’t still get married.”
“I still don’t understand what all of that has to do with me.”
“I was videotaping everything we did, everything we said,” Tori said, smiling. She dug into the large purse that hung from her shoulder, and pulled out a brown padded envelope, the size of a videocassette. “I have it all on tape, and it’s yours.”
Monica received the tape that Tori handed to her. “Why are you giving this to me?”
“I figure you’re going through your divorce right now.”
“That’s right,” Monica said.
“And I also figure that Nate probably won’t have to give you a thing, since he can prove that you had an affair with those photos he has of you.”
“You know about those?” Monica said, shocked.
“I’m the one that had them taken, Mrs. Kenny.”
“You had them taken. You’re the reason why I won’t be entitled to anything, but you’re trying to give me this tape. Exactly what is it you want?”
“Exactly what I hope you want,” Tori said. “He can prove you cheated with those photos, and now you can prove he cheated with that tape. I’d imagine that they would be offset by each other, and then the proceedings would go on as if it was a normal divorce, and you’d get everything that you’re supposed to get.”
“I see,” Monica said, everything starting to come together for her now. “And you’d want some of that, I suppose.”
“What I want most is to know that that worthless man won’t get away with this without losing a chunk of everything he holds so dear. But yes,” Tori said, a sly smile spreading across her face, “I do want a little something for my efforts.”
“How much?”
“Just ten percent,” Tori said.
“Five percent.”
“Seven and a half.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Monica said, reaching out and shaking Tori’s hand.
Epilogue
Two months later, Monica was heading north on Lake Shore Drive, heading in the direction of her new million-dollar town home, which sat in the South Loop, when she saw the Pershing Road exit coming up.
She thought for a minute, smiled, then shook her head, telling herself the idea was foolish. She told herself to continue on driving; then, at the last minute, she cut the wheel of the 2004 Jaguar sedan, and made the exit.
It took a little effort remembering all the turns, but moments later, Monica found herself pulling up in front of the Ida B. Wells apartment that Lewis said he would be living in.
Monica parked the car but left it running, trying to find the nerve to shut it off, jump out, and go up there and knock on the door.
But why would she do something like that? she asked herself. Maybe because she was lonely? Maybe because she never really got Lewis out of her system, or that she felt a little sympathy for him, knowing that he was probably going through hard times?
Monica probably would’ve been in a similar situation if it hadn’t been for Tori giving her that tape. Because of it, Nate was forced to give her what she would’ve been entitled to if they had gone through a normal divorce.
To say that it was a ridiculous amount of money was the understatement of the year. Considering Nate had married Monica before he had started his business, and her lawyer argued that she was instrumental in its success, Monica was entitled to half.
When Nate heard that, he started coughing, practically gagging, and Monica thought he was going to fall to the floor that moment, and just die.
She decided that she didn’t need that much. She took a fourth, and a percentage of the stock.
She would never have to work another day in her life, if she chose, but she knew she would get back out there and do something when the time was right.
Till then, she had all the time in the world, and nothing to do with it.
Monica looked out her window again, toward Lewis’s door. She thought about his daughter, Layla. She wondered how she was doing, and Monica wondered what kind of mother she would’ve been to that child, if she had taken Lewis up on his offer.
She told herself to stop being ridiculous.
Lewis was a gorgeous, beautiful, caring person, who c
ould take care of his own child. And even if he couldn’t, he probably found some eager woman to do it for him by now.
All of a sudden, Monica saw Lewis come out, pushing his daughter in a stroller, and when he looked up, he saw her, stared her right in the eyes.
Lewis smiled.
Monica blushed.
He waved for her to stop, and she did.
Monica got out of the car, smiling, leaving it running, and happily ran over to Lewis and Layla. She wasn’t sure what would happen for the three of them, but she had a good feeling. A really good feeling.
About the Author
RM Johnson is the author of Dating Games, Love Frustration, The Harris Men, Father Found, and the #1 Essence bestseller The Harris Family. He lives in Chicago.