Authors: Dorothy Phaire
Renee frowned as she suddenly recalled the evening she had met Clifton Shaw. Short and thickset with skin the color of wet mud, and small, close-together eyes. He had insisted that everyone join him for drinks at Blue Duck Tavern after the auction. It didn’t take too many Jack Daniels™ for Shaw to unleash his obnoxious nature. It was bad enough that the man kept peering at her breasts whenever he spoke to her, but when she overheard him say, ‘If a Brother plans to get ahead in life, he’d better marry a white woman. These sistahs out here are too damn angry all the time,’ that did it for her. After hearing him say that, she had grabbed her purse and left the table.
“Oh, yes, unfortunately I do remember Clifton Shaw. Be careful that you don’t buy into everything people tell you without investigating it first. I don’t like that guy.”
“Damnit, Renee! There you go again. Always criticizing everything I do before it even gets off the ground. Let me handle my own business affairs and you handle yours.”
He glanced at his watch. “Shit!” Bill shot out of the chair. “I gotta go, babe. I’m meeting Shaw downtown at his office tonight to go over a few final issues.”
“Are you serious? It’s after ten o’clock and you just got home. Did it ever occur to you that I might want some attention from you tonight? Who has a business meeting this late? I know you just lost your job but you’re not the only one going through changes.”
“What the hell do you want from me, Renee?”
“What do I want? I want a husband and a friend. Someone I can grow old with and know that I’m loved no matter what. I want to wake up in the morning and feel joy. Not feel like life is passing me by. I want to hold my own baby in my arms. A child may even bring us closer together. We could nurture him, love him, and watch him or her grow into a fine adult.” Renee turned her face away and quickly wiped a tear. “I wish you’d try to understand what it’s like wanting something so bad all your life and not being able to have it.”
“You’re wrong, Renee. I know exactly what that feels like.” He stiffened, and then paused before continuing in a gentle tone. “Sweetheart, I understand you have this maternal need to take care of people. I guess that’s why you became a psychologist. But I’ve told you before I’m too old to start being somebody’s daddy.” He approached her where she was seated. “Besides, my Pops wasn’t the best role model to learn from. Who knows what kinda father I’d be? Why can’t things just stay the way they are?”
He knelt down before her and took her hand. “Didn’t you just promise to start seeing things from my perspective?”
“I want to—I mean, I will try but I need you to do the same.”
Bill nodded and gave her hand a quick pat. “Okay, but right now I gotta get to this meeting. I just stopped in to pick up some papers we need to go over tonight. Shaw’s a night owl and the only time he has to work on this deal is after hours since his law practice is so busy during the day. Don’t wait up, babe.”
Bill rose and started to walk away, but Renee grabbed his elbow. “You don’t understand. I’m suffocating in this marriage and in case you haven’t noticed, it’s not working.”
“I’m sorry babe but can we talk about this later?” He broke free of her grip and left the room without waiting for approval to end the conversation.
Suddenly, he turned on his heels and came back. “Trust me, Renee, I know exactly what I’m doing.” Then he smiled. “Today’s Thursday, right? I promise, we’ll do something really special for your birthday tomorrow. If you can just be a little more patient, I’ll make it up to you.”
Renee blinked back her tears as Bill left the room, leaving her slumped in the chair. After a few minutes had passed she heard the front door slam shut. She wanted to scream, to throw or kick something, to hurt Bill. But she did nothing. “All right, honey,” she mouthed the words silently in her head, “Go do what you think you have to do
.
And, I’ll do the same.”
She inhaled deeply, then exhaled. Seven years of psychotherapeutic training, fifteen years of practice, and three years of emergency room nursing had conditioned her to stay calm under extreme pressure. This time would be no different. Renee had fought worse demons than Bill and had survived.
B
renda Johnson awoke suddenly when she thought she heard Justin, her three-month old son, crying in his nursery. Her ears were tuned into Justin’s cries, even when she was in a deep sleep. But now fully awake, there was complete silence in the room, except for the sound of her husband, Jerome’s breathing as he slept next to her. The only light came from an orange-yellow glow of a lit candle that Brenda had left burning on top the dresser. It emitted a spicy sweet fragrance of cinnamon and oranges that mingled with melting wax. She rolled over to face Jerome, tucking the spread under her chin. She pressed her body against him and softly massaged his back with her fingertips, yet he continued to sleep soundly. Her golden tan leg intertwined with his dark coffee-toned leg and their bodies blended into each other, a contrast of light and dark brown. As usual Jerome took up almost all of the space on their double bed. His muscular body from daily workouts was spread out across the rumpled sheets.
Brenda raised her head a little to glance at the clock on the nightstand next to Jerome, hoping she’d have a few more hours left to sleep. To her dismay it was almost 5 o’clock, and the alarm was due to go off in 5 minutes. She flung the covers back, then reached over to turn off the alarm. No sense waking up Sleeping Beauty, she thought, eyeing her husband with envy. He slept soundly on his stomach with his face buried in the pillow. With a sigh, she slowly rose from the bed. Every morning during the work week was the same. While they both had to leave the house by seven, Jerome only had to get himself out the door. She, on the other hand, had to prepare Justin’s bottles, pack bag lunches as well as fix breakfast for Jerome and herself, get dressed, and get the baby fed and ready to take to the babysitter’s. She stuffed her arms into her floral-print cotton robe without even bothering to tie the belt.
Why can’t he get up at 5 o’clock once and awhile and let me sleep an extra 45 minutes? We’re both working full-time.
But Brenda knew this was a rhetorical question because she already knew the answer to why she couldn’t expect Jerome to do more. Just having him working steady for a change was a huge improvement over 18 months ago when he was still using drugs, unemployed, staying out all night, and messing around with his ex-girlfriend, Leenae. At least these days she knew where he was at night. Brenda braced herself with one hand on the edge of the bed as she bent down low to reach for her slippers with the other hand. She slid her feet into the well-worn slippers and sat on the edge of the bed, not yet ready to begin her morning routine. Things could be much worse, she thought.
Sure I’m dog tired and we don’t have our own place yet, but at least Jerome’s working steady now and not running the streets with his homeboys. That’s exactly how he got into trouble in the first place.
Jerome delivered packages for Union Delivery Service or UDS as he called it. She worked as an office assistant for Dr. Renee Hayes, a clinical psychologist in private practice in Washington, D. C. They were living temporarily with Mama Etta in a quiet Southeast Capitol Hill neighborhood. Until just two months ago Brenda and her husband had been living in subsidized housing in the Northeast Trinidad neighborhood. After little Justin was born, they moved in with Jerome’s grandmother to save money and get on their feet. Brenda didn’t want her newborn around flying bullets from drive-by shootings or drug deals gone bad. Mama Etta had left last week to stay with her sister in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida for about six months. She told them that cold weather made her arthritis act up and she hated wintertime in Washington, D. C. Brenda recalled Mama Etta saying,
you never know what you might wake up to in this city, a blizzard or a heat wave!
But Brenda suspected Jerome’s grandmother really wanted to give the two young people some privacy so they could strengthen their marriage, especially after all the trouble that Jerome had gotten himself into in the past. Brenda desperately wanted a home of her own like Mama Etta’s little house with its fenced in patch of grass and flower boxes on the steps. This tree-lined section of Southeast Washington, D. C in Capitol Hill felt safe and looked like a good place to raise a child. Staying at Mama Etta’s for a while would help them fix their credit rating and save for their own house.
These days life was pretty good and she felt blessed. Brenda knew how quickly things could change. She got down on her knees and leaned over the edge of the bed, bowing her head into clasped hands, she said a silent prayer of thanks to the Lord for her husband’s long clean spell and for giving them this lovely place to stay, no matter how temporary. She asked God to continue to keep Jerome from temptation. This was all she had ever asked God for. She wasn’t praying for worldly goods like winning the Lottery—just to keep her family safe from all the evil out there in the world. When she wasn’t too tired in the mornings to forget, this prayer was another part of her morning ritual. Still kneeling while resting her head in her hands, Brenda tried not to think about the way it was before, but she couldn’t help it.
Before landing his current job six months ago as a driver for UDS, Jerome installed generators for the Washington Suburban Sanitary Commission (WSSC), where he was making good money and received excellent benefits. All that changed one Friday on payday when he neglected to show up for work three days in a row. Turns out he had used up his entire two-week paycheck on drugs. Before that relapse, he had kept a job for all of two months as a driver for a flower shop until he decided to use the company truck as bargaining collateral to buy drugs. Prior to joining UDS, Brenda couldn’t recall a time when Jerome had worked anywhere for longer than six months. She knew she would have to keep praying, for Jerome as well as for herself.
Dear Lord, help me to forgive and to forget the past.
Brenda tried to meditate on pleasant things as she recited prayers from her childhood. Yet, no matter how hard she tried to focus on her private prayers, bad memories about her husband’s past drug abuse and infidelity crept through her thoughts. Brenda never understood what had led Jerome astray. He came from a church-going, middle-class family with an older brother and a younger sister, and grew up with both parents in the household. Even Jerome’s father had tried to warn her before she married him. Mr. Johnson had explained to Brenda how hard it was as a father to use tough love and kick his son out for good despite his wife’s protests that their son had no where else to go. Jerome’s father said he would no longer enable his son’s addiction. Brenda recalled the time that Jerome had once shared with her that he felt abandoned by his immediate family. The only two people that never turned him away were his Uncle Ike and his seventy-eight year old, maternal grandmother, Mama Etta, whose house they were now living in. So far, Thank God, everything was okay or was it? Brenda tried not to ask herself the questions, am I truly happy and content with my life? Or am I just kidding myself? Is this nothing more than blind delusion? Brenda didn’t want to face the answers to these questions. She whispered ‘Amen’ and got up from her knees.
Brenda headed for the bathroom, turned on the light and picked up her toothbrush, avoiding looking at herself in the mirror that hung over the sink. She momentarily caught her reflection and saw the half-closed, sleepy eyes staring back at her. The longer she stared at herself the harder it was to block out the remarks from her girlfriends, saying she should never have taken Jerome back after the first time he got fired for drugs and for his many 'cheating with other women' incidents. Brenda brushed her teeth vigorously, then bent over the sink to spit out the blob of toothpaste. She swished a handful of running faucet water into her mouth. She could hear her girlfriends’ advice running through her mind. ‘
A leopard never changes his spots. Girl, throw that loser out!
’ Cha-Cha Taylor, with her trademark ‘know-it-all’ attitude, had advised Brenda a long time ago to dump Jerome. Her other girlfriend from high school, Veda Simms, had agreed with Cha-Cha.
Brenda dabbed her lips with a towel and frowned defiantly into the mirror while finger-combing her soft, layered bangs and wisps of auburn-brown waves that tapered both cheeks. Cha-Cha was certainly no expert on how to recognize Mr. Right decided Brenda. These days Cha-Cha was always complaining about her love life. Brenda also couldn’t forget that Cha-Cha and Jerome had once been an item back in high school. Whenever anybody brought that up Cha-Cha would say that was ancient history. Still, could Brenda really trust Cha-Cha to give her honest advice about an old fling? Veda was no better. Several months ago Veda had tried to punish her cheating boyfriend with a dose of rat poison in his drink. She was certainly nobody to take advice from. But it wasn’t just her two best girlfriends who claimed Jerome was no good. Even her own mother hated Jerome. That had been enough right there to give the poor man another chance as far as Brenda was concerned. Brenda was determined to prove them all wrong, even if it broke her heart. Despite her husband’s flaws and weaknesses, she felt Jerome could be saved. And, she knew deep down he loved her. She just couldn’t be sure how she knew it—surely, not from his behavior. She turned out the bathroom light and quietly closed the door. She approached Jerome’s side of the bed to better see the time on the clock that sat nearby on his nightstand.
Suddenly, he turned over on his back and yawned. With eyes still shut tight he stretched his arm across the bed and reached for her out of instinct. Brenda stood still and watched him. When he didn’t feel her there, he opened his eyes and smiled when he saw her standing over him. He grabbed her elbow and pulled her down onto the bed. Despite her weak protests he freed her arms from the robe’s sleeves and tossed it on the floor. She smiled and fell on top of him. He embraced her around the back of her waist, as they faced each other. Staring into his dark eyes, she outlined his thin mustache and his full, sensuous lips, and traced his smile with the tip of her index finger. At that moment, Brenda didn’t think about how exhausted she felt every evening after picking up Justin from day care, preparing dinner every evening, getting the baby ready for bed, and laying out her own work outfit for the next day so she could get to Dr. Hayes’ office by 8:30, an hour before the first patient was due to arrive. She rested her head on his shoulder and forgot that it was usually midnight before her head touched the pillow. She forgot about her dream to go back to college to get a degree with a double major in business and computer science, so that she could one day start her own computer consulting business and make enough money to have a huge house like Dr. Hayes, drive a new car, and vacation twice a year. Those dreams were too far away in the future, yet sometimes she worried just how fast the years passed by and she was still stuck at the same place, if not going backwards.