“Whatever you get should be fine with her,” he said, dumping the bottle in the recycling bin.
“When does she go home, exactly?” Charmaine asked.
“August seventeenth.”
Charmaine paused, spice bottle in one hand, box of brown sugar in the other. “You mean June seventeenth. Right?”
“No. It’s August. She’s staying all summer this time, remember? I told you that.”
Charmaine felt little beads of sweat popping out under her newly colored honey-blond hairdo. She shifted her weight from one bare foot to the other. “No, I don’t think you did.”
“I definitely told you, baby. Just before I made the flight reservations last week.” He blinked. “At least I thought I did.”
Charmaine sighed loudly as she placed the bottle on the countertop. “No, I’m certain, you did not, honey.”
“Okay, so she goes back August seventeenth. Her school starts on the twentieth. Sorry if I didn’t tell you before.”
He walked up behind her and kissed her on the neck. It was a good thing he was behind her. If he had seen the expression on her face, Charmaine suspected he would have wanted to call an ambulance.
“I’m going on up to shower,” Tyrone said.
She turned to see his heels disappear through the doorway, then slammed the sugar box on the countertop.
“Ah, hell, no,” she muttered between clenched teeth. That didn’t just happen, did it? He didn’t just pull a fast one on her, did he?
The potatoes boiled over at that moment and shook Charmaine out of her stupor. She ran to the stove and quickly switched the pot to a cool burner, turned the stove off, and paused to catch her breath.
“Ma,” Kenny said, entering the kitchen and opening the refrigerator.
“What?”
“You look like you just burned your fingers or something.”
Damn if it didn’t feel like it too, she thought.
Chapter 4
Evelyn pulled her black Mercedes sedan into the two-car garage just before dusk and leaned her head back on the soft leather cushion. She needed a few minutes to gather her thoughts before going inside. Her family had lived in this house for twenty happy, loving, fulfilling years. Yet whenever she came home lately, it felt like she was entering the house of a stranger.
Her husband was still around, of course, at least in body. His mind and spirit had vacated the premises months ago, soon after their youngest child left for college. In her work as a psychologist, Evelyn had heard many gloomy tales of men changing drastically at around age fifty. She never thought it would happen to Kevin.
She had realized that she and Kevin were growing apart, that the spark that had burned so brightly between them for so long was slowly dying out. But she had been focused on raising the children, doing her work, and earning her Ph.D. She and Kevin had spent nearly twenty-five years together, most of them very good years. She thought the foundation under their marriage was solid enough to hold things together until they both had time to work on the relationship.
As Andre and then Rebecca approached their college years and she wrapped up work on her Ph.D., Evelyn began to anticipate with eagerness the days when she and Kevin would have long stretches of time alone together. Visions of romantic dinners, cozy walks in the park, and lazy Sunday afternoons lounging in bed began to dance in her head.
Yet when the moment finally arrived shortly after Rebecca went off to Spelman College last fall, Kevin suddenly began to change at breakneck speed. He sold the law practice that he had spent nearly ten years building up. He took a job as a clerk at Blockbuster. He replaced his once beloved Mercedes SUV with an ancient BMW.
She hadn’t shared any of this with a soul, not even her parents and sisters. Everyone thought they were still the perfect happily married couple. She didn’t have the heart—or maybe the guts—to tell them the truth.
She exited the car and let herself into the L-shaped kitchen. The room was being remodeled and was in a shambles, with the old cabinets, countertops, and appliances ripped out and new top-of-the-line appliances waiting to be installed. To Evelyn, the whole space was a reminder of her troubled marriage. A few months ago, she had finally persuaded Kevin that it was time to have the twenty-year-old kitchen upgraded, and contractors had begun the work last week.
Yet she and Kevin had bickered about everything, large and small, all along the way. He wanted a natural material like granite for the countertops. She wanted Corian or something easier to maintain. He wanted bold paint colors. She wanted earth tones.
“I’m not living with a kitchen that reminds me of a fucking field full of dirt,” he had yelled as they debated in the middle of the kitchen floor.
“Well, I don’t want a kitchen that knocks me back every time I enter it,” she had countered.
On and on it went. They were either yelling at each other or dishing out the silent treatment. As a psychologist, Evelyn knew that the problem was far deeper than a simple disagreement over paint colors. Kevin was in the throes of a midlife crisis or a severe case of male menopause. But as a wife, she was clueless as to how to get them through this confusing period.
She could remember when Kevin first decided to leave his job as a partner at one of Washington’s top law firms to start his own firm about ten years ago. She had initially been dead set against the idea, thinking it too risky, too life altering. Yet she also saw that it was very important to Kevin, and she let him talk her into going along with it. In the end, as his firm began to take shape and do very well, she became his strongest supporter. In return, Kevin had enthusiastically backed her when she wanted to return to graduate school to pursue her Ph.D.
That kind of give-and-take, which had sustained them for so long, would never happen now. Kevin had become too self-absorbed, too stubborn, too selfish. He had erected a wall around himself, and she just couldn’t seem to get through to him anymore. Yet she hadn’t given up on him completely. A part of her still hoped that she would one day come home and find the man she had married waiting there for her.
She strode across the kitchen and into the foyer. She kicked off her heels, picked up the mail from the center table, and tried to clear her head of all her worries. After meeting the chef with her sisters, she had stopped by Andre’s apartment in Baltimore and fixed dinner for him. It had been a long day, and her feet were aching. Kevin was probably on the computer in the den, and she wanted to relax, maybe read a good book and catch some news on CNN. She picked up her shoes and the mail and headed up the staircase.
She heard a commotion coming from the master bedroom as she reached the top landing. A couple of thumps, footsteps shuffling across the hardwood floor, drawers being slammed shut. Was Kevin cleaning or something? These days she never knew what to expect from the man.
She entered the bedroom just as Kevin closed the door to his walk-in closet. She was about to ask what all the noise was about, but instead she stopped in her tracks and stared at him—her heels dangling from one hand, Fendi bag and mail in the other. Kevin had shaved his head; not a single strand of hair was left. All thoughts of the commotion she’d just heard vanished from her mind.
“My God, Kevin. What did you do?”
“What’s it look like?” he responded curtly.
It wasn’t his tone that bothered Evelyn the most these days. It was the indifference in his expression. He walked toward the bed, and that’s when she noticed about a dozen of his suits lying across it, including a couple of his prized Brionis.
“What are you doing with those?” she asked as he scooped them into his arms.
“Giving them to Goodwill. I won’t be needing them anymore.”
“You’re not serious?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I’m very serious.”
“But why? You spent thousands of dollars on those suits.”
“Exactly. I told you, I’m sick and tired of this materialistic lifestyle. Hell, you’re probably wearing two or three designer labels right this very m
inute, between the suit, the bag, and the shoes. It makes no sense.”
Evelyn rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Not this again, she thought. She was about to tell him not to do something he would later regret. But given all the changes he had made in his life lately, getting rid of his designer suits was nearly nothing. “What is going on with you, Kevin? You left your law firm, a firm you spent a decade building from the ground up. You’re working at Blockbuster now, for God’s sake. You sold your Mercedes and bought an old beat-up BMW. When is this craziness going to stop?”
He scoffed. “I’m just getting started, and it’s about time you figured that out.” He brushed past her and headed toward the doorway.
“Kevin,” she protested. “We need to talk about this. You’re always running off.” He didn’t stop at the sound of her voice. He didn’t even look in her direction.
She stamped her foot and stared at the empty doorway. She could no longer deny it or even rationalize it. The old Kevin—the loving, generous, ambitious family man she had married—was gone. And it was going to be hard to get him back. Maybe impossible.
Chapter 5
The second Beverly spotted Julian in the hotel restaurant—standing tall and bronze and smiling warmly in her direction—her heart did a little shuffle. They had been dating for a year, and he still had the power to melt her with a single glance.
He removed his eyeglasses and kissed her tenderly on the lips, and the masculine scent of his cologne made her heart flutter. She smiled as they slid next to each other in a quiet, secluded booth at the back of the restaurant. They had developed the naughty little practice of spending one night a month in a different local hotel. They would meet in the restaurant or bar for drinks and dinner and then head up to their reserved room. Sometimes it was a fancy hotel at the Baltimore Harbor or in Georgetown in D.C. Other times it was a simple roadside motel. Today they had chosen a chic little spot on East Lombard Street in downtown Baltimore.
The regular rendezvous were Julian’s idea, and it was typical of the way he often blended the familiar with something exotic. When she was anxious about work or frustrated with the wedding preparations, she could think about the night of passion they had planned for that month. It never failed to put a smile on her face.
He ordered an apple martini for her and a regular one for himself, and she told him all about the fitting and meeting with the chef that afternoon. Julian was as manly as they come and he loved all manner of sports, with the Baltimore Ravens being his favorite ball team. His determination to get out on the golf course on weekend mornings bordered on fanatical. And yet he could sit and listen contentedly to Beverly go on about things like dresses and wedding cakes and her sisters.
When Beverly first met Julian at a party at Valerie’s apartment a year earlier, it was instant attraction for the both of them. Beverly was licking French onion dip off her fingers when she turned away from the buffet table and collided with a tall, bronze-complexioned stranger wearing dark-rimmed eyeglasses. He was holding a drink that nearly spilled on her. Fortunately he pulled away just as Beverly jumped back, and some of the beverage ended up hitting the floor instead of her off-white summer dress.
They both apologized repeatedly to each other as he stooped down to blot the floor with his napkin. When he stood back up and looked at Beverly, it slowly dawned on her that this was no ordinary guy. On the surface, he looked a bit nerdish with his semi-round barrister-style eyeglasses and a crisp white shirt tucked in neatly at the waist. But he was tall—about six foot two—and well-built, with broad shoulders and a slender waist.
“You sure you’re all right?” he asked her again.
She put on her best smile. “I’m fine, really.”
“I didn’t get any vodka and Coke on that pretty white dress, did I?”
“Nope. Not a drop.”
He wiped his brow with mock relief. “Whew! Close call.”
“Yes, it was a little close.”
He extended his free hand a little awkwardly, as he balanced his glass and a small plate holding cheese and crackers in his other hand. “By the way, I’m Julian. And you are… ?”
“Beverly.”
“Beverly,” he repeated. “I always wanted to meet a Beverly.”
“Yeah, right.” She laughed. “I bet you say that to every woman you meet.”
“No, not at all,” he said, looking very serious. Then he cracked a devilish smile. “Only to the pretty ones.”
She laughed again. For some odd reason, she found this geeky guy and his weak jokes heart-stoppingly alluring. He was nothing like the cool Casanovas she normally went for, and that was refreshing.
“So, are you a friend of Valerie’s?” Julian asked.
Beverly nodded. “I’ve known her for years, ever since college. And she’s standing right behind you.”
Beverly pointed and Julian turned as Valerie, wearing an ankle-length denim skirt and a white cotton blouse with the collar turned up beneath her shoulder-length black hair, approached the two of them. “I see that you guys have bumped into each other,” Valerie said as she picked up a carrot from the buffet table and dipped it into the veggie dip.
“Literally,” Beverly said. She and Julian laughed.
“Oh?” Valerie looked from one to the other, not quite getting the joke.
“We came within inches of colliding,” Beverly explained.
“Almost spilled my drink on her,” Julian added.
“Ah,” Valerie said, nodding with understanding.
“How do you two know each other?” Beverly asked. She was curious but also wanted to be sure that Julian wasn’t someone Valerie was interested in before she explored him any further. Beverly and Valerie had met at Hampton University in Virginia when Beverly discovered that her then boyfriend was cheating on her with another woman. That other woman turned out to be Valerie.
Beverly had lived on campus. Valerie lived in Newport News, a neighboring town, with her parents and a baby daughter whose father she had divorced. Beverly and Valerie met in English class, became friends, and soon realized that they were dating the same man and that each was in the dark about the other. By the end of the first semester, they had both ditched the guy. They had been friends ever since, and fighting over men was a no-no. Not that anything would necessarily develop between her and Julian, Beverly thought. But just in case, she wanted to be sure she wasn’t barging in on her best friend.
“Julian works with me,” Valerie said. “He’s the best computer animator this side of the Atlantic.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said modestly.
“It’s true,” Valerie said.
“What exactly is an animator?” Beverly asked.
“I’m the one who transforms Valerie’s creative ideas from hand-drawn artwork into pixels on the computer monitor.”
“Fascinating.” Beverly nodded and smiled. So he worked at the graphic design firm where Valerie was employed, and he really was a geek. The three of them chatted for a few minutes until Valerie asked Beverly to help her out in the kitchen and the girls walked off.
“My co-worker likes you,” Valerie blurted out as soon as they were out of earshot. Valerie walked to the refrigerator and removed two trays filled with carrots, celery sticks, and broccoli and placed them on the countertop.
Beverly began to remove the plastic wrap covering one of the trays. “Get out. I just met the dude.”
“So?” Valerie said. “I’ve worked side by side with Julian for a few months now, long enough to get to know him. He likes you.”
“How can you tell?”
“The way he looks at you. Or rather the way he can’t stop looking at you.”
“I do think he’s cute. A little geeky maybe, but cute.”
“I agree,” Valerie said, laughing. “He’s a total geek, but anyone who thinks geeks can’t be cute and sexy is dead wrong.”
“I know. They’re the ones who rule the world, I always say. They get the best jobs, make the most mone
y.”
“And they’re less likely to cheat on you than the playas.”
Beverly nodded. “I’m surprised you never mentioned him, since you two work so closely and you’re always trying to fix me up with someone when you’re not interested in them.”
Valerie shrugged as she removed the plastic wrap from the veggies. “Guess I didn’t think he was your type.”
“What’s my type?” Beverly asked, wondering how Valerie had pegged her.
“You know, suave, drop-dead gorgeous.”
“You mean, playa.”
“Unfortunately, we’ve both been suckers for all the suckers out there. We met in college ’cause our boyfriend was two-timing us with each other. Remember?”
“How could I forget?” Beverly said. “Sometimes I think that’s why we’re both still single. Given the rotten luck I’ve had with men all these years, maybe I need to change my type.” She looked at Valerie. “You’re not into him, are you? Because if you are, I’ll—”
Valerie shook her head. “Nah, I got my eyes on someone else tonight.”
“Cool.” That was good news to Beverly’s ears. It meant she could explore this budding thing with Julian. “I saw you talking to that guy with the shaved head. That him?”
Valerie nodded. “Yeah, Otis. What do you think?”
“He’s hot. Kind of reminds me of a slightly older Taye Diggs. Where’d you meet him?”
“He works at my office too. He’s a programmer. Just started about two weeks ago.”
“Sounds like another good-looking geek,” Beverly said.
Valerie laughed.
“Seriously, maybe I need to change jobs. I mean, I love working at the Baltimore Sun, but you got all these smart, hot brothers working with you.”
Several minutes later, Beverly and Valerie walked back into the party, each carrying a tray of veggies and dip. Julian quickly sought out Beverly, and they spent much of the rest of the evening getting to know each other. Then they met for lunch midweek, followed by dinner and a movie on Saturday for two consecutive weekends. The second movie and dinner date turned into an overnighter at Julian’s apartment, and he and Beverly were pretty much inseparable from that point on.
Sisters and Husbands Page 3