by Shea Lynn
I stood in the doorway of our master bedroom and stared at him for a moment. His arm muscles flexed as he pushed the iron up and down the fabric and the selflessness in his actions washed my duplicitous soul in a fresh wave of guilt.
He was such a great guy.
And I had him in my home.
In my bed.
Embedded in my life and joined to me before God.
Why didn’t I want him? Why couldn’t I force myself to want him?
“Hey Sweetie,” I finally said.
He looked up at me then, those pretty eyes smiling at me. “Hey you. I heard you come in. How was your day? You handle your business?”
I nodded before walking over to him. “I did. At least I tried to.”
I eyed the clothes on the bed and asked, “What do you have going on in here?”
“Well, the kids need church clothes. I was just getting things ready for in the morning. I know you’ve had a long week, so I thought I’d help you out a little bit,” he said with a smile.
I swallowed thickly.
My husband. My lover. My friend. He stood there, exuding love and compassion, and I could still feel Dayna’s silk on my sinful tongue.
This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.
Aaron was trying to read my look and I caught myself fading out. I flashed interest in him; my dark eyes met his hazel ones. “Thank you,” I said.
“No problem. Welcome home.”
I asked him if he’d still planned to meet Darnell and he confirmed that his plans hadn’t changed. He kissed me quickly on the lips before racing off to the master bath. Moments later I heard the shower running. I started ironing clothes and when I was nearly done, he reappeared. I smelled the masculine scent of his cologne before I actually saw him. I had so many memories tied to that smell.
We talked as he dressed. What we talked about, I couldn’t tell you. As he spoke, my mind started drifting back to Dayna and our conversation. Before I knew it, Aaron was dressed and smiling at me, looking both handsome and in need of compliments.
“What do you think?” he asked, before turning around in a circle
“You look nice, Aaron. Just remember where you live,” I teased.
He chuckled. “Girl, please. You got nothing to worry about.”
And I knew he was right. With Aaron, I would never have anything to worry about. He was that kind of man.
My husband gave me a soft smile and kissed my forehead before he headed out of the room.
I could hear him walk down the stairs and I heard our children say good-bye to their father. The door to the garage opened and closed and before long I heard his mid-sized SUV back out of our garage and out into the street.
Chapter Eleven: Dayna
I had talked to myself the entire way home; rationalizing me cornering her in the front seat of my car. When I slumped down on my empty bed in my big, empty house, I was still talking to myself, lonely tears hanging from the corners of my eyes.
“Does she not get it? What doesn’t she get? How long do we keep doing this? How long before we end it or move on? What’s so hard about that?” I wondered aloud.
The home phone rang and I knew it was her. As much as the stubborn part of me wanted to not answer the phone and hold my ground, the rest of me needed to hear her voice. Needed to hear her be soft, and gentle, and repentant with me. I slid off the king-sized bed and walked across the room to the cordless phone.
“Hello,” I answered, the whispers of tears still apparent in my voice.
“Dayna? Is everything all right?” asked my mother.
I cringed. It wasn’t the “her” I thought it would be. The “her” on the other end of the line was the last person I wanted to speak with at that moment on that day.
“Hey Ma,” I replied.
“Is everything okay?” she repeated.
“Yes Ma’am. My voice is just a little scratchy. That’s all.”
“Are you sure? Is everything okay with Nina? Cameron?” she continued.
“Yes, Ma. Everything is fine. How are you?”
“I’m fine. Just called to check on you. I hadn’t heard from you in forever. Did Cameron move back in and you’ve just been too busy to call?” she asked.
I rolled my eyes then and walked back to my bed and sat down. “No. He’s not moving back any time soon.”
“Well why not? He’s your husband, isn’t he?”
“Ma, I know he’s my husband. We just need more time to work on things. That’s all.”
“The good Lord didn’t say anything about a wife taking time to work on things. It says that a woman should submit to her husband. That’s what it says. And that’s what you’re not doing.”
I sighed. “I know, Ma. I know.”
“Well if you know, then why is he still not living at home?”
Here we go, I thought to myself.
My mother.
I love her. I really do. She gave me life. Raised me. I owe her so much.
But she drives me crazy.
She’s a beautiful woman, inside and out. My father is the senior pastor of the one the oldest black Baptist churches back home. My mother is the First Lady of the church. She’s proud of that. And as a kid, I was pretty awed by her poise, calm, and quiet strength.
But as I grew older, the backdrop to my mother’s picture-perfect existence began to come into focus.
I grew up watching churchgoing women flirt with my father. Watching him caress them a little too long and smile a little too wide when he asked them to come by his office. And I know that if I noticed these things, my mother’s hawk-like sense of perception had been wholly aware of them as well. I’d heard her cry softly when Daddy would leave to tend to his flock…..at night….and not return until the wee hours of the morning. I’d watched her wring her hands awaiting his calls. Had heard her feet shuffle awaiting his return. Had glanced at her from the corner of my eye as she softly hummed hymns, read the bible, and watched the clock on late evenings.
My mother was fragile inside. Her feelings were easily hurt and she subscribed to the philosophy that a woman’s worth was tied to the success of her family and her husband.
Nothing made her prouder than to sit on the first pew during Sunday service in her white suit and be recognized as the First Lady of Walnut Grove Missionary Baptist Church. No matter what Sunday or season, her suit had to be white and she always sat at the end of the row, in the first pew, almost directly in front of my father’s pulpit.
And if and when I ever divorced my husband, The First Lady, would want to understand why. She’d want to understand what could have divided my husband and I. After all, she’d been hurt and down trodden by my father for years, but she was as firmly committed to him as a nun was to Jesus.
How could I ever answer the questions she’d ask? The truth would cut her spirit, because it would be a reflection of her own troubled marriage. A mirror of their failings.
And where the similarities to my parent’s marriage ended, thoughts of Sidney’s sweet brown skin began. And how in the world would I begin to explain that?
I couldn’t.
She’d worked hard to give me the best of herself, even when she didn’t have much to give. Now that I was a wife and a mother, I understood the selflessness of her sacrifices. I understood how hard it must have been to try and smile and sit so proudly on that front pew while my father’s mistresses sat on pews behind her. I understood the shame she must have felt when she exposed her worries and pain to my sister and I, but still stood proudly by my father’s side within hours of him returning home from his sinful pastimes.
I understood the strange intermingling of her pain and pride and I couldn’t bring myself to upset the balance of those pivotal pieces of her reality.
We continued to talk and finally she said to me, “Dayna, I know it’s not easy. I know sometimes you feel like giving up on him.”
“Ma, I feel like that most of the time.”
“I know. I used to feel t
hat way about your father sometimes. But I’m gonna share a little secret with you.”
I sat up a little when she said that. “What is it?” I asked.
“When your father and I were at our worst, I always prayed long and hard. I prayed for strength, for guidance, for courage. And it was always provided to me. And I knew that God’s help was all I needed because your father was part of God’s plan for me. He was supposed to be mine.”
“How did you know that?” I asked. Her words had sparked my interest.
“Because I knew. I just knew. And I know that we will be together in this life and in the next. Just like I know Cameron is going to be with you.”
I rolled my eyes then. It had become a force of habit whenever his name was mentioned. “How do you know that?”
“Dayna, I prayed about it. Before he even came along, I prayed to God to send you someone to love you and protect you and take care of you. I prayed and he sent you Cameron. I know you have work to do, but I think you two are going to be just fine. You just have to pray about it and stay in the spirit.”
My mother, steeped in her blind faith had often been the source of my pity. I couldn’t fathom how she could know what kind of man my father was and yet still have faith that God would continue to keep them together. But I found myself almost wishing I could be as boldly tied to my faith as my mother was. Maybe that faith would have kept me from loving Sidney. Maybe it would have made me love her enough to keep my mouth shut in the front seat of my car.
Was I being faithful enough?
I thought I’d been plenty faithful.
It wasn’t just one affair that had thrown us off track. It was several.
We had moved to Wilmette nearly a year prior: hoping that the change in location would be a catalyst for change in our relationship. I had hoped the change in scenery would be cleansing for the both of us. I’d hoped we could start over.
When we first moved, I doted on him. Playing the part of a newlywed, bending over backwards to meet his needs. Smiling so much my face hurt. Donning a cloak of a new persona in hopes that we could salvage the hopes for us that had not yet materialized.
And then it happened. We hadn’t been in Wilmette for a full month when I saw him with her. I’d stopped by the hospital where he worked. I was all ready to go grab a quick lunch and maybe give him a little something-something to keep him honest.
When I stepped out of the elevator on his floor, I saw him laughing. It was a laugh that should have been reserved only for me. His eyes danced between her face and the swell of her hips and my jaw had begun to clench itself. I was queasy. She was a nurse; her outfit told me as much. She was pretty. The fact that she was gorgeous should have come as no surprise. All of the others ones had been beautiful.
He saw me. Looked over and smiled that nervous little smile my husband gets when he’s uncomfortable. Like a kid caught with his hand in a candy jar.
I hadn’t really seen anything, but I knew. I knew there was more going on than a work conversation between a nurse and the hospital administrator. I turned right back around, got on the elevator and headed home.
It wasn’t his questionable situation that had guided my actions; it was the strength of the reaction in me. His infidelities had started to make me lose my mind. I was going insane trying to mesh the part of me that wanted to trust him with the part of me that needed to become Inspector Gadget when he came home. I needed to smell him, to inspect him. I’d needed to study his actions and his reactions and try to come to a conclusion regarding the validity of his words. I was going crazy. And he wasn’t worth my sanity.
His presence in my life was unhealthy. I’d taken the rest of the day off and gone home to pack his things. That action alone was cathartic.
From the moment I watched his sad eyes walk away from our new house, a duffle bag on his arm, I’d stood firm and was convinced we were done.
But then he’d had started changing. He moved into a little apartment not far from the house and he was the one who suggested we go to counseling. He’d even started becoming a regular at Sunday morning church service.
I sighed and wondered, ‘Maybe the changes in him had nothing to do with him. Maybe it was God working through him. Maybe he wants Cameron to save me from myself. Save me from her.’
Her.
Sidney.
The very thought of her sent a chill down my spine and I had to exhale slowly just to resettle myself.
Chapter Twelve: Sidney
After he’d gone, I felt weak and empty and I sat down at the edge of the bed we shared.
“What am I doing?” I whispered aloud.
I leaned over, my head in my hands, and my eyes tightly closed. Even in his absence, Aaron was so present in this room. The scent of his cologne tickled my nostrils.
As soon as my mind thought of him, it also thought of her. He was the one I wanted the world to see. She was the one I wanted for myself.
“How am I going to get out of this?” I whispered.
There was no answer of course. Only the faint hiss from the iron and the background noise of television and children.
I sighed deeply before turning off the iron and grabbing the clothes from my bed. I walked around to everyone’s rooms and put the freshly-ironed clothes away. Physically, I was in my home, tending to my chores, but my mind was all over the place. My thoughts had wandered from the tensed parking lot conversation to my afternoon spent at Sara’s. It wound around and flipped back the clock to our first kiss.
Her lips, soft and sweet, had lit a fire to my soul. It amazed me how a kiss could reach down deep inside and make your legs tremble. Her kisses could stain my soul and leave me aching for her presence days after our lips touched.
Those kisses had branded me. Imprinted her essence deep down inside; effectively ruining me for him.
He didn’t kiss like her.
He didn’t caress like her.
He didn’t make my body shake like her.
And it wasn’t that he didn’t love me. It wasn’t that he wasn’t gentle or tender.
He just…..
He just wasn’t her.
“What am I going to say to her?” I wondered aloud.
What did she really expect of me? Did she just want me to come out, buy a rainbow flag and not look back? Did she want me to make long-term promises of a future commitment that held no true merit?
I was finally out of clothes and I made it back to my room, my eyes focused on the phone. I didn’t know what to say, but I hoped that we could move past her questions and my answers. She had to miss me as much as I already missed her. I’d begun missing her the moment we stepped off the train and now the ache for her was nearly unbearable. I reached for the phone.
As soon as I touched the receiver, Devann’s smiling face appeared before me.
“Is it time, Ma? Can I do your hair now?” she asked.
Aiden was right behind her, grinning from ear to ear. “Can we do it, Ma?” he echoed.
I needed to call Dayna. I needed to clear the tension between us. I needed to right the wrong of hurting her. At the same time I needed to be a mother to the children I never saw or had time to entertain. The guilt of failing them gave me an excuse to postpone my phone call.
It gave me time to find both courage and conviction-laced words to make everything alright.
I sighed and gave them the go-ahead. Despite my reservations, I had fun with them. It was nice to relax and unwind and just laugh hard and freely with my kids. When they were finished, I looked like one of Orphan Annie’s friends, but I had a genuine smile on my face.
Following “Beauty Shop”, Devann and Aiden had their baths and then, it was “quiet time”. I passed by Aiden’s room and he was “reading” at the top of his lungs to the row of stuffed animals on his bed. “Sweetie, not so loud,” I said.
“Okay, Ma.”
I smiled at him from the doorway. “I had fun with you, Sweetie.”
“I had fun, too. But I have to rea
d to the kids now. It’s their bedtime,” he replied, with the utmost seriousness.
I nodded and made a big show of tip-toeing away before arriving across the hall at my daughter’s cute little room.
Devann was snuggled down in her bed, her eyes droopy and heavy. I tucked her in and kissed her little cheeks.
“I love you, Mommy,” she whispered, her eyes closing.
“Love you too. See you in the morning, okay?”
She nodded and I was sure she was asleep before I hit the door.
I had finally done something right. I was unfaithful to my husband and playing catch up at work but I had been a good mother to my kids and that left me something to hold on to.
I was once again in my room and reaching for the cordless phone. It was déjà vu. But this time, Devann didn’t appear and I was able to dial all seven digits without interruption.
Dayna’s cell phone rang and rang and finally rolled over to voicemail. I eyed my phone curiously, as if it alone was the reason I wasn’t hearing Dayna’s voice.
Of all the emotions I was used to feeling when I couldn’t connect with Dayna, relief was the emotion I would have least expected to feel. But I was relieved that she didn’t pick up. I resolved to try her again in a little while and I hoped that by then, I would actually have something to say.
I leaned back against my pillows and my mind drifted to what I would do when I saw her next.
She was in the Women’s One Sunday School class I taught at our church. That’s when I would see her again. And that memory triggered the memory of another forgotten task.
I wasn’t prepared for the lesson. It had completely slipped my mind.
“Oh no,” I mumbled as I searched around for my bible, notepad, and Sunday school book.
When I located the items needed to prepare the lesson, I sat back down on my bed, opened up my Sunday school book, and turned to the second chapter in the book of Matthew.
Chapter Thirteen: Aaron
I love my wife. When we met and she smiled I knew there was something special about her that I would never be able to let go of. You can call me crazy but I knew I would love her for the rest of my life. I’d dated my fair share of women. But something special happens when you meet someone special and for me that someone was Sidney.