A Taste of Reality

by Kimberla Lawson Roby

  “Like where?”

  She wasn’t going to ease up with this cross-examination, and now I wished I’d followed my better judgment and not called her until later.

  “I was out, and I’ll have to tell you about it in person.”

  “I know you’re not seeing someone else?”

  “What if I am?” I said, testing her reaction.

  “Don’t play with me like that, Anise. Were you out with someone else or not?”

  “I was, but I’m not telling you anything about it until I see you in person.”

  “Well, I’m on my way over right now then.”

  “Hold on a minute,” I said when I thought I heard the garage door opening.

  “Anise, don’t try to change the subject—”

  “No, I’m serious. Hold on a minute,” I said, and walked over to open the door leading to the garage.

  A heat wave encased me when I saw David step out of his vehicle.

  “Monica, let me call you back.”

  “Why?”

  “Because David is here.”

  “Then I was right. You are trying to work things out with him.”

  “I’ll call you back, okay,” I spoke louder than before, because I could tell she wasn’t about to say good-bye.

  “Fine. I’ll be waiting.”

  “Bye, girl,” I said, and pressed the off button.

  David walked in wearing a golf outfit I hadn’t seen before. I tried not to say anything, but I couldn’t resist starting an argument with him.

  “So what dragged you here this morning?”

  “I decided to come because we need to talk.”

  “About what? Because if money is the subject, I’ve already told you how I feel about that.”

  “But you’re not being reasonable.”

  “I don’t have to be. You messed around on me, remember?”

  “Anise, please don’t start that same old tired conversation again.”

  “If you don’t want to hear what I have to say, then leave.”

  “Why can’t we just try to stay cordial for a change?” he asked, and sat down at the island.

  I leaned against the kitchen countertop, facing him.

  “Cordial is fine, but don’t expect me to budge on what I already told you yesterday. We’re splitting the money in the bank fifty-fifty.”

  “But you didn’t contribute fifty-fifty.”

  “Well, that’s what I’m getting in return.”

  “Look, Anise, you’re usually a fair person, so I know you want to do the right thing.”

  “Huh! Is that some kind of new psychology you’re trying to use? Because if it is, it’s not working on Anise Lynnette Miller. Not today. Not for as long as I’m alive.”

  “You’re wrong, and you know it.”

  I folded my arms and positioned my neck the way I always did when I’d had enough foolishness. It was time to set him straight once and for all.

  “No, you’re the one who’s wrong for pretending like you wanted to work things out when all along you knew you were screwing someone else. You didn’t even have the decency to tell me that you wanted someone else. At least if you’d done that, I wouldn’t feel so humiliated. And it pisses me off even more when I think about the fact that you’d still be sneaking around if I hadn’t busted you on the phone with her. But the good news for you is that I don’t care enough to make a scene about it. I’ve moved on, and you’re going to have to deal with this divorce on my terms or not at all.”

  “Moved on how, Anise? Because if you’ve done so much moving on, then why are you still so angry with me? Why am I still able to push the wrong buttons and send you into a frenzy?”

  “Whether you believe it or not, I have moved on,” I said, and wanted desperately to tell him I’d made love with Frank, and that Frank had given me more pleasure in one night than he had the whole time we were married. If he kept pushing me, I would have no choice.

  “Yeah, right. Whatever you say.”

  “I have.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “You really think I’m joking, don’t you?”

  “I know you are,” he said, pretending to ignore me by picking up the newspaper.

  I was becoming a little annoyed. “You don’t know anything. You haven’t been here. So how could you possibly know what I’ve been doing?”

  “Okay, then, if you are messing around, then who with?” he asked, looking straight at me.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “That’s what I thought. It’s nobody, Anise. So why don’t you stop playing these games?”

  “I’m seeing a white guy I’ve known for quite some time,” I said when I couldn’t take his cockiness any longer.

  “What? You really should stop this,” he said, cracking up at what he truly thought was a joke.

  “Whether you believe me or not, I am.”

  “Oh, so just because I’m seeing someone white, you think making up some lie about a white guy is going to make me jealous? Please, Anise. Even you can come up with a better story than that, can’t you?”

  “It’s not a story. You may think it is, but I’m telling you the truth.”

  “And my name is Willy Wonka, too.”

  He shook his head in disbelief and turned a page of the newspaper.

  It was obvious that he wasn’t going to believe what I was confessing, and in all honesty, it was for the best. I didn’t need him using my relationship with Frank against me in court, so I quickly changed the subject.

  “So why are you here?”

  “I told you, so we can talk. But I can see now we’re not going to get anywhere.”

  “The reason we’re not is because you want to call the shots on everything, and I’m not going for it.”

  “You can have that little money,” he said.

  “I already know that, and I don’t need your permission either.”

  “Just be glad I didn’t stop by the bank and withdraw every penny,” he threatened.

  “I hope you do, because I already told you yesterday what would happen if you did.”

  “More threats, I see,” he said, standing up.

  “No, these are promises I plan to keep.”

  “I don’t know why I thought you were going to be more sensible about this, but I should have expected this all along from a black woman.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  “Black women can never go along with the program. They always have to have a fucking opinion. Which is all the reason why I jumped ship and found me a beautiful, caring white woman. Just being with me makes Christina happy. And unlike you, she doesn’t need to call the shots in the relationship.”

  “I’m happy for you. And she can have your sorry ass, because I don’t want a man who expects me to agree with him even when he’s wrong.”

  “That’s why you’ll always be alone, too, my dear.”

  He sounded sarcastic, and I wanted to bring him down a couple of notches.

  “Being alone is much better than sharing my bed with you,” I shot at him.

  He glared at me in disgust.

  “Just stop it, Anise. Because you know you loved this,” he said, standing and pointing toward his crotch.

  I could tell that he believed what he was saying.

  “David. Honey. Listen to me,” I said with a straight face. “Regardless of what Christina is telling you, you’re horrible in bed. You always have been, you always will be. But it’s not your fault, because I don’t think you can help being a minute man.”

  “You know, I’m getting a little fed up with you criticizing my sexual ability.”

  “Then you should leave me alone, because I’m tired of hearing you criticize me for being a black woman.”

  “I criticize you because you always act so ignorant.”

  “Don’t keep pushing me, David.”

  “More threats? Don’t you ever get tired of that?”

  “I think it’s time for you to leave
before somebody gets hurt.”

  “Oh, so now you’re about to act ghetto and pull a knife on me again, I guess?”

  I walked away from him and went into the great room. If I’d stayed where I was, it wouldn’t be long before I did something foolish.

  “What do you want to do about the furniture?”

  I ignored him.

  “Anise?” he said, walking in my direction.

  “What?”

  “Which pieces of furniture do you want?”

  “All of it,” I said without having to think about it.

  “Now I know you’ve lost your mind,” he said, looking confused.

  “No, I’m fine. And since I’m so ignorant, now I want half of everything—including your 401(k).”

  “Stupid bitch.”

  “Call me whatever you want, but it’s not going to change anything.”

  “I’ll die first, before I let you have all my money.”

  “It makes no difference to me what you do, so long as I get my half of it.”

  “People get killed for shit like this, Anise, so if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop playing these silly little games with me.”

  “Whatever” was all I said, because for the first time since he’d arrived he looked dead serious.

  He walked down into the basement, stayed there for maybe twenty minutes and then came back up carrying two boxes.

  He stopped in front of me and said, “The next time we see each other, it’ll be in court.”

  “I look forward to it,” I tossed back at him, but knew deep down that I didn’t want to enter this war we had officially declared. But there was no turning back for either one of us now. We’d have to fight this thing until the end, regardless of the consequences.

  He left.

  I sat in the great room wishing this nightmare would cease.

  After David stormed out of the house, I washed two loads of clothing, spoke with Mom and told Monica that I would attend church services with her and Marc tomorrow morning. Mom had asked me if I was coming to my own church since I hadn’t been there in a while, but I’d told her I didn’t think so. I didn’t dare tell her that I preferred the services at Monica’s church over ours.

  I walked down to the basement and scanned the bookshelf for something to read. I didn’t see anything I hadn’t already read, so I decided to watch a movie instead. I scanned all the pay channels and stopped when I saw Sugar Hill with Wesley Snipes and Theresa Randle. I hadn’t seen this in a long while, but I remembered loving it when Mom and I saw it at the movie theater.

  I watched it all the way to the end and tried to find something else to watch as soon as the credits began rolling. But what I really wanted to do was call Frank. I wanted to hear his voice. I wanted to feel his touch, but I knew I had to avoid being intimate with him again. I wondered if he was still upset about my leaving his house the way I did.

  I sat for a while, trying to resist dialing his number, but eventually I couldn’t help myself.

  I no longer wanted to hear his voice, I needed to hear it. I needed him.

  I pulled the phone from its base and dialed his number from memory. I’d only dialed it once before, but I still remembered it. Mom always said that even the most forgetful person could remember what they wanted to.

  He answered on the first ring, which didn’t give me much time to prepare my reason for calling.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he said the same as always.

  “I see you’ve got Caller ID like everyone else in America.”

  “Are you saying you don’t?”

  “No. But I don’t just start talking to people before saying hello.”

  “Oh well, can I help it if I’m so happy to hear from you?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “I’ve been thinking about you all day, and so many times I wanted to call you but didn’t know if it was safe.”

  “Actually, David was here this morning, so it’s probably good that you didn’t.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. We had another huge argument, but what else is new?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault, so don’t be.”

  “I’m sorry that you have to go through this, because I know it’s not easy.”

  “This won’t go on forever, but until it’s over, I’ll just have to deal with it.”

  “I guess, but I still hate it.”

  “So what did you do today?” I asked, switching subjects.

  “I told you. I thought about you.”

  “You didn’t do anything else?”

  “I went to the store, by the dealership to see my dad and by the house to see my mom. But I still thought about you the entire time.”

  “Well, I haven’t been out of the house all day.”

  “I wish you had called me when you got home last night, so we could have discussed what happened.”

  “I don’t think we should discuss it,” I said, wondering how we ended up on this subject.

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “Because it shouldn’t have happened.”

  “How can you say that when I know you enjoyed me as much as I enjoyed you.”

  He was right, but I hated that he knew the way I was feeling.

  “Is my perception correct?” he continued.

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “You don’t want to say because you know I’m right.”

  “What we did last night was wrong, and me calling you on the phone is wrong.”

  “Then why did you?”

  “Why did I call?”

  “No, why did you make love to me the way you did last night?”

  “I can’t answer that.”

  “You did it because you couldn’t help yourself. You did it because you’re in love with me. And if you’d just admit that to yourself, things would be a lot easier for both of us.”

  I wanted to. I really did. But I couldn’t. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, because it wasn’t even the fact that I was still married to David. It was something deeper than that. It was the color thing that I kept playing over and over like a tape recorder.

  When I didn’t respond, he said, “Anise, why don’t you drive over here so we can talk about this in person?”

  “You know I can’t.”

  “You can if you want to. And I know you want to, so what else is stopping you?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “Please, Anise. I need to see you. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want, but I really need to see you.”

  “I shouldn’t have called.”

  “I’m sorry if I sound like a pest, but when a man loves a woman the way I love you, I don’t see how he can help it.”

  I kept quiet.

  “Anise, I love you so much,” he said.

  My heart raced, and I felt like melting.

  “I need time to think things through,” I tried to explain.

  “Okay, but can I ask you something?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Have you ever felt with anyone else the way you felt last night with me?”

  Why was he asking me the question I’d already answered in my mind as soon as we’d finished making love? But I didn’t want to lie, so I didn’t see any other choice except telling him the truth.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Then don’t fight me on this. Get your keys, and drive over here. You’re alone and so am I, but we don’t have to be.”

  He did have a point.

  “What if things don’t work out between us?” I asked.

  “They will.”

  “But what if they don’t?”

  “They will, but if for some reason they don’t, then we accept it like we would any other problem.”

  I sighed, not knowing what to do.

  “I won’t pressure you about anything. All I want is to see you.”

  “I’m warning you, Frank, if you try to take things too fa
r again, I’m leaving.”

  I tried to sound convincing, but I knew he didn’t believe a word I said.

  “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  “I’ll see you in an hour,” I said.

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  I pressed the off button, sat the phone on the arm of the chair and wondered why I was so eager to make things hard on myself.

  CHAPTER 21

  I KNOW you don’t like it, but you wanted to know, so I told you,” I said to Monica. We’d gone to church as planned, and Mom had met us afterward for dinner at Ledora’s, the only soul food restaurant in Mitchell. I still hadn’t told Mom about Frank, but when we were alone again I’d told Monica. Now she was out here on the patio firing rocket missiles at me. Which is what I had anticipated.

  “A white man, Anise? Are you out of your doggoned mind?”

  “No, I’m not. I know exactly what I’m doing. I had my reservations when I went to dinner with him, and then again on Friday at his house, but after last night, I know that I’m in love with him. I didn’t plan for this to happen, but it did.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “What’s not to believe?”

  “That you’re actually seeing a white man. I mean, it’s bad enough that you’re seeing someone on the rebound, without being divorced, but this is the worst of all.”

  “Why should it matter what color he is? It’s like Mom says, if a man treats you good, what difference does it make if he’s white, red or blue?”

  “So your mom already knows about all this?”

  “No.”

  “Well, since she doesn’t care about color, why haven’t you told her?”

  “Because I just haven’t.”

  “You haven’t told her because you don’t know how she’s going to react. It’s one thing to say you don’t mind interracial dating, but it’s another when your own daughter is doing it.”

  “Mom isn’t hypocritical like that. If she has an opinion, it stands for everything and everybody. And you know that.”

  “I still don’t believe you’re telling me this. I’m so glad Marc isn’t here, because he has the same crazy idea that you do,” she said, referring to her husband, who’d gone to visit one of his frat brothers since Monica and I had important issues to discuss. “For some strange reason, he believes that any two people of any race can live happily ever after.”