Cheaters (36 page)

“I worked and paid my way through law school.”

“And that nonstop studying and working made you an absentee husband. For the last two or three years I’ve wanted to spend more time together and strengthen this marriage, but you always have something else to do. And when you should have free time, it seems like you
create
something to do.”

“Why do you get hostile whenever I try to talk to you about what’s going on between us?”

She walked away from me and my concerns. That made me doubt her commitment to a lifelong marriage. I felt our vows cracking under pressure.

I went into the office, pulled out some paperwork on a child-custody case I was working on the side.

I heard Dawn on the phone talking to Charlotte. She was on the cordless and passed by the office twice, consoling and complaining, no doubt trying to see what I was

doing. That went on for a few minutes. She hung up. Her footsteps made a slow stride back toward the part of the house I was in.

Dawn appeared in the door. “Sweetheart, I’m just tired. And this thing that Charlotte went through, well, I found it traumatizing. I kept looking at Jake, realizing how trifling he really is, and wondering about you. Right before my eyes I saw their relationship shatter, I saw how devastated Charlotte was, how she had to fight to maintain her dignity in front of us, and I became afraid. Afraid of that happening to me. To us. All you’re hearing me broadcast is my fear. The deception she had to put out to keep from being deceived was a bit much for me.”

I turned away from my PC, faced her. “I understand.”

“You know what that fool had the nerve to say to me when I walked outside? This was when Charlotte was talking to Stephan. On the way out I told Jake to get a clue, that it was over. Tried to bring, some reality to the front lines. Know what that smug bastard said? ‘It ain’t over until I say it’s over.’”

“Wow.”

Dawn paused, leaned against the doorjamb. “Am I losing you?”

I matched her pause. “Resentment makes anything possible.”

She left the room, but came back a few minutes later.

Dawn said, “Why don’t you come lie down with me?”

I watched her, tried to read her new mood.

Her voice was tender, bending like a willow in the wind. “I think we’re both stressed. Maybe we can
unstress
each other. Maybe what we need from each other is beyond words.”

I shook my head.

“Darnell…”

“I can’t touch you right now.”

She said, “Please? Let’s make this right.”

“You don’t like the way I make love to you, I’m fat, so what’s the point? You want to put a Band-Aid on something that needs stitches.”

“You’ll make up any excuse to get back to that book.”

“I’m not working on my
hobby.
This is legal work.”

The ringing of the phone interrupted us.

Dawn said, “Put that work aside for a while. I’m feeling insecure right now.”

“Why?”

“Because.” Her voice dropped. “I think you know why.”

“What happened between Charlotte and Jake is between Charlotte and Jake. Don’t bring that into this house.”

Dawn’s mother’s voice came through the answering machine in the bedroom.

My wife said, “Darnell.”

“Yeah?”

“Who is Tammy?”

My insides jumped; my eyes went to her.

She said, “Before you say anything, a friend of ours told me she saw you all the way out at Venice Beach eating lunch with her. Her name is Tammy, right? She’s an actress, true?”

The answering machine clicked off. The voice of Dawn’s mother faded.

“She’s a friend,” I answered.

“Why don’t I know this friend, and why didn’t you inform me of this lunch date?”

“The same reason you never inform me when you’re working late. Same reason you didn’t inform me the day you took off work to go to the valley.”

“That’s different.”

“Of course it is.”

She wanted to know, “How long have you known her?”

“Not long. She’s a writer.”

“I know. A few days ago I saw papers, some sort of book on your desk that had her name on it.”

“What were you doing on my desk?”

“Now who’s defensive?” She sighed. “This is scary.”

“What’s scary?”

“How your body language changed when I mentioned her name.”

I sighed too. “She understands what I’m doing.”

“Understands you?”

“Yep.”

A lot of nothingness came into the room, hovered over my heated words like an unseen vulture over our dying relationship.

Dawn said, barely above a whisper, “That hurts.”

The stillness was interrupted when the phone rang twice, then stopped before the machine picked up.

The emptiness lingered, the kind of nothingness that made my gut echo like an empty barrel when a rock was tossed inside.

Dawn said, “These are the arms that held you when you thought you weren’t going to pass the bar. These are the knees that I fell on in church and prayed and cried for you when you thought all of that was too much. And now you tell me you won’t make love to me because some other
bitch
understands you better than I do?”

“I never said that. Now you’re putting words in my mouth.”

Stares of pain held us in a vise grip. Walls were closing in.

Dawn spoke up. “When you wake up in the morning, and the morning after that with nobody beside you, remember who was your rock, who helped you get to this point.” Dawn’s lip was trembling. “Sweetheart,” she said, “you don’t have time for me, but you can drive across the state to meet with some strange woman.”

“It was business.”

“How would I know?”

“Don’t make something out of nothing.”

She fumed, “I find out that you’re having a secret rendezvous, and I’m making something out of nothing?”

“It wasn’t a secret rendezvous.”

“Then, when can I meet your new friend?”

No reply, just a lot of shifting.

Abruptly Dawn asked, “Are you sleeping with anybody else?”

I cleared my throat. “No.”

So much paranoia was in her words. “Since we been married?”

“No. Since I put that ring on your finger, no.”

“Would you tell me?”

“Would you want to know?”

Her tears weren’t falling because she had too much pride.

“So tell me, my husband, do we still value each other?” With a sigh of discontent she turned, left my space.

A minute or so later I heard her pick up the phone, listened to the echo of digital beeps when she dialed. Then

she was marching from room to room, pacing and complaining to her mother. I made out the words when she mentioned my name in an angered way, venting out the last few minutes of our personal conversation, sharing our personal business.

She sounded so pained.

So weakened by love.

My heart reminded me how much I loved my wife.

Loved her and loathed her in the same breath.

Loathed because even with her in the same house I was feeling lonely. I understood what was swirling inside me. Dawn was so wonderful in certain ways, but she owned a side I couldn’t fulfill. With her I don’t feel like I’ll ever be able to be my whole self. Six years of compromising, of living in reservation and expectation, felt like a lead weight on my heart.

I stood, opened the closet door, and appraised myself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door.

Pushed my love handles. Felt the softness. Touched my belly. Missed the hardness it used to possess. My six-pack had turned into a forty-ounce, pretty much. Law school, more time studying than working out, and Dawn’s fried chicken had done that.

My wife told me that she didn’t desire me like she used to.

She knew about Tammy.

I closed my eyes, let my mind take me back to the night I’d been at the Atomic Café, facing Tammy, both of us tongue-stirring the gentle breeze.

One moment paranoia had me shaking.

The next moment I didn’t care.

That message made me feel sweet sixteen. I was on my bed, wearing Stephan’s jean shirt over my Levi’s and white T-shirt.

Tammy lingered in the doorway, smiling and eavesdropping. I’d played his message on the speaker phone, so she heard every sweet word.

“What?” I said.

“You’re glowing like a firefly.”

I laughed and touched my face.

I’d told Tammy about my sexcapades with Stephan. It was so good that I couldn’t keep it to myself. Over two bottles of Snapple, I had blushed and jabbered the two hours I was filling out her delinquent tax papers, gave her the nitty-gritty details from my last sundown to sunup.

Tammy gave a devilish grin. “He have a buck-fifty wee-wee?”

We laughed.

Karen wasn’t here yet, but I heard her voice inside my head.
Shit, my sister, sometimes I wonder how many dicks have been inside you.
I shrugged away my discomfort.

Tammy asked, “How much do I owe you for hooking up my taxes?”

“You know I don’t charge you and Karen.”

“Chanté, you are a blessing. I bow at your feet, oh ye queen of itemized deductions. The slayer of a Caucasoid uncle named Sam. Oh, mighty Chanté, conqueror of the 1040.”

“Make sure you pay me what you owe me when you get paid.”

My other messages were from jerks.

I dialed Stephan’s number, got his answering machine, left a sweet message and told him that we were going to Shelly’s. As I hung up, a tremble came over me in waves. A fear that made my silver bracelets rattle. I liked him too much. Had done too much. I knew better, but I’d done it anyway. I wasn’t in any condition to even think about being with somebody. Not on the level that I was thinking about. I’m a wounded bird.

Tammy yelled, “Oh, ye queen Chanté. Karen of Riverside just pulled into the kingdom of Allegro from Diamond Bar Boulevard.”

“About time.”

Tammy had wandered into the front room, but rushed back in and stuck her head in the door. “One more thing. It’s
very
important.”

“Okay.”

“It’s my birthday. Don’t start nothing with Karen. If she says something to piss you off, let it go. For me. Okay?”

I felt bad that she felt she had to say that, but I held on to my smile and said a cheery “Okay.”

Her tone was soft, serious. “I love both of you, but when you fight, it forces me to choose sides, even when I don’t want to.”

Before she left the doorway, I called out, “Tammy?”

“Yeah.”

I tried to make her understand what I thought she already understood. “Just because two people argue don’t mean they don’t love each other.”

She smiled. “I know.”

We were at my dining room table. The lights were off and twenty-eight candles brightened up a lemon cake. Glasses of Muscat Canelli were under our noses. Karen and I had slapped on dark shades, were rocking side to side and wailing out a seriously off-key, hand-clapping, foot-stomping version of Stevie Wonder’s
Happy Birthday to Ya
song.

The birthday girl beamed. “Help me blow out some of

these candles. If I was any older, the sprinklers would come on and drown all of us.”

We blew and we blew. And we cracked up. Especially because the more we blew, the more the candles lit up.

Tammy cackled, “Trick candles!”

We were having so much fun, hugging and being the best of friends while Tammy opened her presents. The silver necklace and matching bracelet that Karen had bought her were the bomb. Tammy put on the silk blouse that I’d given her and modeled it all.

Tammy was so teary-eyed and sentimental. “You know what’s a shame? That people you aren’t kin to take care of you and love you better than your family ever will.”

All of us were blowing snot bubbles after she said that.

Karen slid a bag toward Tammy, one toward me, and said, “I bought you another present, Tammy. I bought you a gift too, Chanté.”

Silver jewelry. And not to mention that Karen had on a new brown skirt and beige rayon blouse. She’d outdone me in the present department. I wanted to ask her where all of this spare money was coming from, but I remembered what Tammy said to me about not starting anything. Instead I slapped on a gracious smile and said, “For me?”

She smiled. “For all of us. I bought me one too.”

Tammy had suspicious, questioning eyes over her grin.

Karen had also bought us T-shirts. The front of it said:

We laughed and high-fived and read that message to each other like it was a scripture from our hearts.

Tammy said, “I want y’all to throw up a prayer for me.”

Karen leaned toward her. “Everything all right?”

“I auditioned for a commercial. Mickey Dee’s. A national.”

I beamed. “How’d it go?”

Tammy smiled from ear to ear. “Very, very well.”

I remembered the message I was supposed to give Tammy. “The band at Shelly’s wanted to get in contact with you. Sounds like some work. A road gig.”

Tammy said, “You’re lying.”

Karen didn’t say anything.

I asked Karen, “Weren’t you at Shelly’s that Friday night?”

She flat-out said, “No.”

“Pee Wee said he bought you a drink. It was when they had sarong night.”

“Oh. Yeah. I went by there, but I didn’t see you guys, so I only stayed but a hot minute. It’s not like I hung out.”

Tammy asked her, “Who’d you go with?”

“Nobody.”

I asked, “You see me?”

“Nope. Walked in, walked right back out.” She sipped her Muscat Canelli. “Who did you go up there with, Chanté?”

I paused, saw Tammy’s tense expression, then confessed, “Stephan Mitchell sorta asked me out.”