by Cydney Rax
“Sure.” Vette deadpans. “If you’re ten and under. Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” We start walking toward the clothing stores. “Where you wanna go next, Toys ‘R’ Us? Or to the children’s play castle over by Sears?”
“Very funny. I don’t know where I wanna go. Let’s just walk.”
We pass by Forever 21, the Gap, and Gap Kids.
I self-consciously look at how I’m dressed: a four-year-old Texas Medical Center oversize T-shirt that Neil got from his job, some wrinkled blue jeans, and a pair of Sketchers that should have been thrown away in the trash long ago.
“Wow,” I say as we pass by several window displays. “I could use a wardrobe makeover. It seems like the styles are getting jazzier and trendier.”
“The teen clothes look better than the adults’, and they cost just as much.”
“Who you telling? By the way, I need to go to Kids Footlocker and buy Reese a new pair of kicks. Her feet are growing every month, and I can’t ignore her complaining anymore about how much they hurt.”
“Okay, let’s buy the little princess new gym shoes,” Vette agrees. “Hey, have you told Neil about the operation? Did you set a date?”
“No and no. I’m still trying to make a decision.”
“What? Why haven’t you at least told him? …”
“Because I just haven’t. And don’t you say a word, Vette.”
“I won’t it’s just …”
“This hysterectomy thing is a very serious issue. I just don’t want Neil to look at me differently.”
“Girl, he loves you and you know it.”
“Ha, I’m not so sure sometimes. We’ve been together so long that sometimes I wonder if his love is on autopilot.”
“What’s the matter?” Vette asks, looking concerned. She can read my face like it’s an open book.
“Vette, so much is going on. I’m not too good at handling lots of stress. My birthday, the surgery, Dani being around the house with Scottie …”
“Wait? I thought you were happy that she found someone else.”
“I am, but I don’t like how Neil is acting about the whole matter. In my opinion, he shouldn’t care what Dani does. He’s too protective. I don’t like it.”
“That’s Neil. I don’t think he’s aware of how transparent he can be sometimes.”
“But that’s what I like about him and what I hate about him. It’s hard for him to lie to me because I’ve known him long enough to see straight through him … most of the time. But when I can see the truth, I don’t always like what I see.”
“I don’t envy you at all. That’s why I’m still single.”
“You’re so young you don’t need to be making that kind of serious commitment yet. If you aren’t totally prepared to be a wife, there’s hell to pay. And that’s another thing,” I say pausing as we walk in front of Motherhood Maternity. “I’ll admit I’ve been a fool. As a married woman I have made some stupid mistakes. The main one was letting Neil go find a mistress. Yet I place a lot of blame on Dani. It’s like I am not willing to take my share of accountability for what happened.”
“It’s hard for a woman to admit she’s messed up.”
“And it’s harder for a woman to have to live with that mistake every day for the rest of her life. That’s why I’ve been so tempted to just walk away,” I say and take a seat on a couple of brown Massage Center seats that give us an unobstructed view of the Motherhood Maternity store.
“You want to leave Neil?”
“In my heart, no, but when I’m having a tough day I want to say Screw it and find someone else. That way I can start all over, leave the mistakes behind, and make sure I do not repeat them in a new relationship. But I’m no spring chicken. You’ll never find me in the pages of a magazine with the caption ‘Young Movers and Shakers.’”
“Woman, please. You aren’t that ancient.”
“I am, too. See this.” I turn over both my hands and spread them before me. “Dozens of ugly wrinkles everywhere. I feel ashamed of my hands sometimes. And see how my eyes are sinking into my head just a little? I’ve never considered plastic surgery before….”
“And you shouldn’t now, Anya, you’re so attractive and strong.”
“Yeah, but is it enough? Is my almost middle-aged beauty going to keep Neil from upgrading to a younger version of me, from trading me in for a new set of wheels?”
“Well, you aren’t the only one getting older. My brother may find himself being traded in for a sportier model himself. So there!”
“Thank you!” I laugh and wipe a few tears from my eyes. I don’t want Vette to know they’re genuine tears, so I act like they’re silly tears. There’s no way this twenty-something young lady can understand how it feels to be me.
I glance at the mannequins wearing maternity dresses and place my hand on my belly. I feel heartbroken when I realize that if I have the hysterectomy, my body will never produce life again. So why am I here on this Earth? In ten short years, my daughter will be dating, applying for college, leaving the house, and making her own way through life. Then what will I do? Will Neil and I still have anything significant to talk about? Will the sex be exciting? In an effort to change the subject, I hop up and say to Vette, “Let’s go check out the maternity clothes.”
“Oh, Lord, I’m scared someone I know may catch me in here and assume things about me,” Vette yelps as she trails me into the store.
“Vette, please. You are not famous. No one is going to recognize you, Ms. Britney Fears.”
“Aw, you’re wrong for that.”
I browse several racks of turtlenecks and stop at a row of colorful fall dresses. “Beautiful. These styles don’t even seem like maternity clothes with the faux wrap. The clothes are so much better than when I was carrying Reese. Child, I couldn’t wait to go into labor, have my baby, and throw ’em in the garbage.”
“Hmm, I can only imagine how that feels.”
I turn down another aisle. A bright-eyed, clear-faced woman with a very round belly is oohing and ahhing over some cute and sexy nightgowns.
“You think my husband will like this?” She addresses me, holding up a pink sleeveless nursing gown with a V neck.
I want to say, “What difference will it make at this point with the condition you’re in,” but I tell her, “That’s a very pretty outfit. You’d look good in that.”
“I think you’re right. Thanks so much,” she says. Her eyes rest on my stomach.
“So what type of clothes are you looking for, and most important, when’s your due date?”
I blankly stare at her, but she keeps running her mouth. “I’m due around February fourteenth. That would be awesome, wouldn’t it? A child conceived in love being born on the most romantic day of the year.”
“Um, yeah,” I say and take a few steps away from her. “Vette, come on, let’s go. Now!”
“What’s the matter?” she asks trying to keep up with me as I head directly across the hall to Kids Footlocker.
“Nothing.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“C’mon, Anya, tell me. You’re certainly acting like something’s wrong.”
“Okay, now something is wrong because you keep bothering me. Getting on my last nerve.”
A few days later on a Friday afternoon, Dani comes by the house to pick up her son. I’m in the kitchen preparing one of Neil’s favorite meals. Vette agreed to take Reese for a visit with Sola. LaNecia’s power finally got turned back on, so she returned home.
“Mmm, that sure smells good. What are you making, Anya?” Miss Thing, of course, follows her nose the second she gets in the house, trying to see what I’m up to.
“I’m chopping raw onions and bell pepper. You want some?”
“No, thank you.” Dani wrinkles her nose. “I smell meat. Is that a T-bone?”
“No girl, that’s porterhouse. Only the best for my man.”
“Oh, I see.”
&
nbsp; “When are you going to cook for your man?”
“Scottie isn’t my man.”
“Quit playing around, Dani. You two are thick as thieves. Every time I see him, you’re not far behind. So what’s up?”
Dani walks to the refrigerator and swings open the door. “Wow, is that banana pudding? My mama would make this all the time when we were kids. Is it okay if I have just a tiny spoonful?”
“Don’t you have diabetes?”
“Um, hello, one tiny spoonful isn’t going to kill me.”
“Okay, then, how about half a bowl?”
“Anya Meadows. That isn’t funny!”
I laugh and wave my hand. “Dani, I don’t care what you eat. It’s your life, your body.”
“Where’s my baby?”
“I’m assuming you’re referring to Braxton.”
“Of course. Who else would I call by that name? Definitely not Neil.”
I don’t say anything. Scottie comes into the kitchen and says hello to us. He kisses Dani on the forehead, but she ignores him. I continue chopping veggies and look in the refrigerator for some prechopped garlic.
Neil bounces into the kitchen. “Something sure enough smells good up in here.”
Dani hugs Scottie around the waist. “It’s probably Scottie. He just showered, I think.” She presses her nose on his neck. “Mmm, you smell so delicious, sweetie.”
“Do I, babe? What you wanna do tonight? Neil told me to get the fuck out his house so he can fuck his wife.”
“Man, you tripping. If you keep talking mess like that you won’t have a house to come to.”
“Whew, calm down, Neil,” Dani says. Neil immediately takes a few deep breaths.
“Well, I don’t want to intrude on you and your wife’s date night.” She laughs, then stops. “I can’t believe you’re making us leave. There’s room enough in this house for all of us.”
“No,” I say adamantly, ignoring her sarcasm. “No, no, no. Go on, get your kid, and y’all can hang out at your place.”
“This place is way more exciting than mine,” she says. “Dinner is already prepared. You probably have some DVDs already stacked up and waiting in the den.”
“Don’t pay her any mind, Neil,” I say and whack an onion with a long butcher knife. “Dani’s just being Dani. Dinner will be done in about thirty minutes, so if you wanna go and, um, get ready, now’s a good time.”
“Eww, I think she’s talking about him getting ready for some …”
Neil steps up to Dani and covers her mouth with his hand. I look at Neil like he’s lost his mind. He removes his hand from her mouth and disappears from the kitchen.
“Men are such little boys,” Dani remarks and laughs. “Ready, Scottie? I’m getting Brax. We’re leaving. Now!”
* * *
I am leaning over the dining room table, which is draped by a white silk tablecloth. Two vanilla-scented candles set in silver-plated holders burn on each end of the rectangular table. Neil is sitting on the opposite end staring into space. I have just served him his meal of well-done steak, mashed potatoes with gravy, green beans smothered in onions, side garden salad, and some hot buttered rolls.
“You’re too good to me, Anya,” Neil says as he slides some potatoes on his fork and places it inside his mouth. “Mmmm, these are so delicious. The best ever. What have I done to deserve this, my love?”
“I know when it’s time to spice things up, that’s all. The last time we did something this exciting was back in July during our anniversary, and it just felt like that time again.”
“I gotcha. Well, keep doing what you’re doing….” The rest of his words can’t be understood. He’s too busy stuffing his mouth.
I guess I can’t complain. My hubby is at home with me where I can see him. Other women’s husbands are on the other end of a telephone line, spitting out words that may or may not be the truth.
I’m working late, babe.
I’m hanging out with the boys, that’s all.
I’m not doing anything wrong, so stop tripping. You know I love you.
I just got in the car and I’m on my way home now. Gotta get some gas first, though.
Very few men will have the balls to say what’s really going on.
My chick on the side and I just got through having butt-naked sex. You just missed it.
I’m in love with another woman. She’s kind, supportive, and gorgeous. She and I are having dinner right now, then we’re going to sneak away and hang out at her spot.
I’m on my way to meet a beautiful woman in a bar. We’re going to have a few drinks, share a few laughs, then who knows what will happen after that.
Oh, hell no. Ninety percent of men, married or in committed relationships, will never have the courage to tell the truth about what they’re really doing. We hope and pray to God that he is where he says he is. Because we can’t really see what’s going on for ourselves, we have no other choice but to trust.
And that’s why moments like right now are so important. He’s here, in our home, with me.
“Neil,” I say for the third time. “The food couldn’t be that good.”
“Huh?”
“I’ve been calling your name for the longest. You have this faraway look in your eyes.”
“Oh, um, it’s nothing. Work stuff.”
“Oh yeah?” I say with a raised eyebrow. “What’s happening at work?”
“Budget cuts. A couple of white-collar folks got pink slips.”
“Your job is not in jeopardy, right? That would be weird since you’re the moneyman.”
“You never know. Anyone who has a job can lose a job, I don’t care what your title or duties are. Anyway, I am not going to stress about it.”
“And you shouldn’t. Try to enjoy the moment. Our moment.” I raise a glass of wine.
Neil picks up his glass of white wine and tilts it toward me. We share a laugh. He takes a sip and begins eating again.
Sometimes I wonder if my cooking is really that appetizing or if he’s using eating as an excuse to not hold a serious conversation with me.
“What are you in the mood to look at?”
“It doesn’t matter. Whatever you choose is fine.”
“I was looking for a more committed answer than that.”
“Anya, you know I’m not that picky when it comes to movies.”
“That’s ’cause you usually fall asleep halfway through the film. I swear, if you conk out this time, do not wake up and start badgering me about what happened. I cannot stand when people do that.”
Neil actually starts laughing heartily. It’s good to hear him sound happy.
I take another celebratory sip of wine from my glass.
Neil clears the table and loads the dishwasher while I set up the Blu-ray DVD player.
I am wearing a red silk nightgown with spaghetti straps. I’ve slipped my feet inside some white velour Smart-Dogs indoor-outdoor slippers that feel divine on my skin.
Neil is lying on the couch with his hands clasped behind his head. I pick up the remote, aim it at the player, and sit down on the floor in front of the sofa next to Neil.
“Am I blocking your view?”
“A little. Your head is as wide as Peter’s on Family Guy.”
“No way.” I chuckle. “Let me know if I’m in your way.”
“Just kidding, Peter. It’s cool.” Seconds later I hear loud, obnoxious snoring sounds.
“Ahem, stop playing around, Neil. The opening credits just started. I’ve wanted to see American Gangster for the longest.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
We watch in silence for a good thirty minutes. After a while, Neil began touching my neck, his fingers softly kneading my skin.
“That feels really good. Thanks, Neil.”
“That’s not the only thing I can make feel good.”
“W–what you say?”
“You heard me.” He whispers at my neck. “Get up.”
I lift myself up until I’m o
n my knees looking down at my husband, who’s lying flat on his back.
“Kiss me,” he commands.
I lean over and press my lips against his. He runs his fingers through my hair and pushes my head closer to his. I thrust my tongue deeper inside Neil’s mouth, which is hot and wet.
I remove my underwear and climb on top. His eyes enlarge. He slides off his boxers, and I slide him inside of me and hop up and down enjoying the friction that makes me want to scream.
Neil’s eyes are glassy.
“You’re enjoying this?”
“Yeah,” he says, breathing hard.
“I love you.”
“Mmm,” he moans and grunts as he grabs my hips and pushes himself violently into me.
Hmmm, I love his aggressiveness. He likes when I take charge.
I keep pumping while Neil stares into space.
“Oh, you came already?”
“Uh, yeah. Sorry.”
“You look like something heavy is on your mind.”
“Um, work stuff.”
The next morning I wake up before Neil and get out of bed around nine, which for me is late for a Saturday. I take a quick shower and wash off remnants of the lovemaking Neil and I shared last night. We went one round and a half. For some reason, in the middle of the night, Neil tugged at my panties and got himself a quickie. I was halfway asleep and definitely wasn’t feeling it, but as long as he got his I didn’t care.
I am in the kitchen trying to decide if I want to be bothered with making waffles or should I do a quick-and-easy bacon and scrambled eggs with toast breakfast.
Neil rushes into the kitchen and glances at the wall clock.
“Scottie made it back yet?”
“No, why? You need him for something?”
“Damn. When I do need him, he’s never around.”
“He has a life, Neil. Not like he’s a little kid you have to babysit …”
“I know that!”
“Don’t you dare raise your tone at me, Neil. What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing!”
“Don’t lie to me. I know when you’re lying.”
“Then since you know when I’m not telling the truth, and you have such insight into what I’m thinking at all times, why ask me what’s wrong?”