My Husband's Girlfriend (21 page)

“Nooo, no way. I’ve wised up.” I cross my fingers, close my eyes briefly.

“Well, that’s good to hear. Just don’t panic, okay? Maybe you can draw unemployment, or you could sign up with a temporary agency.”

“Ewww,” I protest. “Heck no, temping is the worst.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong working contract.”

“They always treat you second rate, like they need your ass to do the job yet you don’t belong. I always feel like a piece of toilet paper, and everyone is about to wipe me against their smelly butt.”

“It’s not that bad. And don’t be worried about how the employees act, not when you got bills to pay.”

“I know, I know. Thanks, Ma. I just want another great job,” I told her,
one that I won’t blow the second time around.
A good lesson can never be learned until a person goes through hell just to find out what
not
to do.

“Well, I’m listening real well right now,” I say out loud.

“What you say?”

“Nothing, Ma,” I say, my face turning red. “I just need you to walk me through some things. I believe everything will work out. Hey, I’m a great employee—at least I think I am. I just hate when wrenches are thrown. It takes me a while to bounce back and get focused.”

“Dani, someone’s banging on the door, so let me get off this phone. Call me if you need anything.”

I hang up and wince after hearing her words. I feel rotten burdening my mother with my problems, but at the same time I’m glad I even have a mother to talk to. God knows I need someone to talk to. Need someone to hold my hand. And this time around, Neil just isn’t the perfect fit.

20

Anya

“As you know, I am a Christian, and I believe in God and Jesus and all
them, but some things about the Bible just puzzle me. Am I the only person who feels that way?”

Reesy and I are sitting next to Riley and Tamika. It took three non-pressured invitations to convince me to visit Riley’s church. I am enjoying the words of Pastor Solomon, who tends to look out at the congregation like he’s personally talking to you.

“Yep, the Bible is a great book, but have you ever wondered about something? Like, Noah and some of those folks living to be five hundred, six hundred, seven hundred years old.” Pastor Solomon scratches his head. “Now, I’m trying to figure out, when Noah turned five hundred, how’d they fit all those candles on that cake? And where did they find a birthday card that said, ‘Happy Five Hundredth Birthday’? I don’t know about you, but those are just some of the things that I sit around and think about. It’s like, you got me straight tripping, Boo.”

I sit back and relax. Reesy squeezes my hand and I squeeze back. When it’s drop-dead quiet she says, “I like this church, Mommy.” I tell her to hush, but you know what? I am totally feeling what my baby is feeling. I squeeze her hand again.

A couple of days later, Neil is sitting at the dinner table. We’ve eaten baked fish and steamed veggies. He’s reading the newspaper and sipping raspberry tea, a drink I’ll make for him but won’t sip myself because of the odd aftertaste.

“Anything good in there?” I say, and turn my back to load the dishwasher with plates and glasses.

“If ‘good’ means war casualties, corporate heads being exposed for criminal acts, and the price of gas skyrocketing, there’s all kinds of good in the paper.”

“I hear ya,” I reply. I rotate the knob on the faucet and begin rinsing some of the dirtier pots.

“Hey Anya, could you please do something for me?”

“Okay,” I say without turning my head.

“When you’re done with the dishes, could you pour a glass of water from the fridge? Make sure it’s totally full.”

“No problem,” I lazily reply. I feel worn out and want to go upstairs, run a bubble bath, then maybe read and get some sleep.

I fill a glass with water and sit next to Neil.

“Here, take these,” he says, and slides two blue-and-white capsules near me.

“Take them for what?”

Neil is turning the pages of the business section but says, “Just do it.”

I laugh. “Just say no.”

Neil doesn’t laugh but I sense he’s waiting on me.

“Okay, I’ll do it but you’ll have to explain what this is about.” I pick up the pills one at a time and wash them down with the entire glass of water. “Happy now? Okay, what’s up, Neil? Are you trying to tell me something?”

“Like what?”

“I’ve gained five pounds. Is this some type of diet pill? You’re ashamed of me?”

He lowers the paper. “No, Anya. You look the same to me.”

“‘The same’ could be interpreted ‘fat as always.’”

“I don’t mean that and you know it. You’re the one who feels self-conscious about your weight. You know I never ride you about that.”

“But if you had your choice, you’d want me slimmer, wouldn’t you?”

Neil resumes reading the newspaper. He’s reading the death notices section, and I know there’s nothing in there that could possibly concern him.

“You don’t have to say it, Neil. It’s cool.”

We lock eyes and both laugh. I hop up. “You want dessert? I can whip up some strawberry shortcake real quick.”

“No, I’m good. I’m about to tuck myself in.”

I stand up, “Okay, see ya.”

“Anya.” He coughs. “I’ll need you to take these pills twice daily for another eleven days, okay?”

The next morning after Neil leaves for work, I burst in the library and start pulling out desk drawers, search under the couch, running my fingers all over his desktop. I un-shelve and re-shelve books, and remove sofa cushions. Nothing there, either.

When he gets home that night, I behave like everything is normal, but when he goes to use the bathroom on the first floor, I wait outside the door so I can ask him about the pills he’s just given me. They’re resting in the center of my hand. Neil told me to go drink some water while he went to relieve himself. I hear him in there—it sounds like a gallon of liquid is being poured in the toilet. He makes moaning sounds, hissing and groaning at the same time. When he opens the door and sees me, his eyes are red, and he gives me a skeptical look.

“Neil, you are not going to give me pills and not explain why I’m taking them. All I have to do is go to my pharmacist and she’ll tell me what these are.”

He bristles but walks past me. I follow him to his library.

“I see all my things look messed over,” he says. “Why’d you ransack my room? I may have to pull an Anya and install a lock on this door.”

I throw the two pills on the floor and crush them with the tip of my pumps. White powder is now smeared on the rug.

“Anya, you’re stupid, you know that? You have no idea what you’re doing. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“What’s wrong with you, Neil? I can’t be with a man who talks in riddles, who only wants me to do what he says. It’s not right and I won’t stand for it.”

Neil sighs and lies on the sofa. When I sit next to him he doesn’t scoot over to make more room.

“Think about this,” I say to him. “You have a daughter who’s going to develop into a young woman one day. How will you like it when she begins dating and having sex? What if she hooks up with a man who acts just like you? You won’t like it when Reesy comes home crying because some brother dogs her out, has sex with multiple partners, and she gets emotionally damaged in the process.”

“The multiple partners idea…”

“What can I do to change that, huh, Neil? I’ve done things because I loved you.”

“Loved? As in ‘not anymore’?”

“It’s not feeling like it used to.”

“And when were you going to tell me all this?”

“I’m telling you now. But…I don’t really mean it. I don’t want you to think I don’t care. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t still be with you. I just wish you’d talk to me. Sometimes we go days without saying one word to each other. I don’t get it because it’s not like I’m angry like I used to be. I’m not totally angry, just frustrated.”

Neil is lying back with his hands tucked underneath his head. His eyes are closed. It’s the classic shut-out move; he’s being a hypocrite, and it’s wrong. To me communication involves talking things out even if you’re arguing. But if Neil refuses to say anything, I know I’m on the losing end.

“Neil, either tell me what these pills are or I’m going to my pharmacist.”

“Okay, give me a sheet of paper and a pen.”

I walk over to his desk and grab a memo pad and a pen and give them to him. He jots down a few words, then hands me the paper.

“Don’t read this until you are out of this room,” he tells me. “Once you read it, I don’t want to talk about it, Anya. I just want to go to sleep.”

“Everything always goes your way, right? The world revolves around you for some reason.”

I close the door to the library and walk up the stairs to my room. And when I look at the paper, I see that it says:

Antibiotics. Doxycycline. Take every single pill. Your health depends on it.

I Google “doxycyline” on the Internet and get some info on chlamydia. I recall how a few weeks ago Neil and I had some spontaneous unprotected sex, and coupled with the vaginal discharge I’ve been experiencing, my worst fears are confirmed. I run down the stairs screaming and stop at the library door. Neil’s standing there blocking my entrance and he closes the door in my face. He keeps holding it so I can’t come in. So I sob like a wounded animal and curse him out from the other side; I’m too upset to care that Reesy has come downstairs and is crying, too.

Then I calm down, remember the bigger picture, and realize I have no choice but to take the rest of the pills. And with or without antibiotics, Neil better not touch me with his diseased double-dipping dick again.

All while I was taking the meds, I didn’t initiate any conversation with Neil and barely looked him in the face. He had to cook his own meals, wash his own laundry, and clean the kitchen for a change, and he had the nerve to complain the entire time.

But now it’s a couple of weeks later in early April, on a Saturday afternoon. Vette, Riley, and I are in the mood to see a movie at the Alamo Drafthouse Cinema in West Oaks Mall. This is the only theater in town where you can watch a flick while being served food and drinks by waiters. We find our seats and order grilled chicken salad, vegan pizza, blue-cheese hamburgers, and sodas. Then we settle in, eat good food, and laugh at Adam Sandler’s antics for an hour and a half.

“Mmm, that was fun, ladies,” Riley says afterward. “Let’s walk around the mall and look for shoe and purse sales.”

After examining lots of merchandise but not buying much, we order ice-cold kiwi smoothies and relax at a table in the noisy food court.

“I wonder how Neil is making out with the kids,” Riley says. “I was very impressed he agreed to watch the girls.”

Vette and I just glance at each other.

“The Bible says a man that finds a wife finds a good thing. I’m gonna sit back and let the man find me,” Riley says. “I want to be like Ms. Anya and Neil.”

“Uh, no you don’t,” Vette says. Then, turning to me: “Sister-in-law, it’s time you schooled this woman.”

Riley looks from me to Vette, then to me again.

“You are a sweetie, Riley. But I hate when you think Neil and I have a perfect marriage. We’re not exactly Will Smith and Jada. In fact, the only thing Neil and Will have in common is first names that rhyme.”

“Awww, it couldn’t be that bad,” Riley says.

“You don’t know the half,” Vette offers, and I’m sure she’s dying to disclose all the juicy details.

“I’m sorry, Riley, but you put me and my husband on that pedestal, a place I never wanted to be.”

“I apologize for assuming, Ms. Anya. It just seems like whenever I see you two, you look fairly content.”

“We’re like any other couple, Riley. We have our moments. But don’t despair. I think you deserve a good man and I hope you find someone much better than Neil.”

“Well, anybody’s better than Jamal.” She laughs, her eyes sparkling. “There’re some good men at Solomon’s Temple, but seems like most of ’em are already taken. I don’t want any man that’s always attached to someone else. Talk about drama.”

“Let’s talk about it,” I say.

Riley lets slip a sharp laugh. “I can tell you some stuff, hon. These chickenheads out here don’t care. You tell them that’s your man, they’ll say, ‘Well, he’s mine when you turn your back.’ And they’ll be grinning and proud of themselves. I don’t understand this generation at all. Back in the day, we wouldn’t think of taking someone else’s man. Or we’d at least be a little more discreet about it. But in the new millennium, no shame in the game.”

“You got that right,” says Vette. “But what goes around comes right back the fuck around, so…” She has a gleam in her eye. “Like what happens a lot of times in the movies—the bad guy can raise hell the first three-fourths of the flick, but by the ending, everyone knows what’s going down. And when it does, we never even feel sorry for his dumb ass. Everyone gets their due in the final scene.”

“That’s all good,” I tell Vette, “but in the real world sometimes things have a strange way of dodging fate. Because I’m a witness that everybody doesn’t get what’s coming to them. Everything doesn’t always work out for the bad guy. Haven’t you heard of getting away with murder?”

“Anya, if you could see the look on your face, hon.”

“That’s okay. I don’t need a mirror to see what I already know.”

The people you hate tend to inhabit your mind. So when we get back from the movies and I notice Neil sulking around the house, I ask, “Where’s Dani?”

“Huh? I dunno. Home, I guess.”

“You look so depressed. Why don’t I go pick up the baby? Dani can come, too.”

“I’m not in the mood for your games.”

“I’m serious, Neil. I think they both should come over here more often.”

“Why would you think something like that? I don’t want both of them over here.”

“Okay, tell you what. Let’s flip a coin. Heads, I’ll go get Brax. Tails, Dani has to come along, too. How about that?”

“Whatever.”

I go to my purse and pull out a shiny quarter. “You flip the coin, Neil.”

“Anya, you need therapy,” he says in a tired voice.

I smirk and press the coin in Neil’s palm. He flips the silvery piece of metal and looks at the results of the toss. I laugh and pump my fist. Neil walks away.

“Why’d Neil leave so suddenly?” Dani asks. We’re in the kitchen. I’ve cut up pieces of banana. Reesy is mashing the fruit with a spoon, and Brax is trying to grab the spoon with his fingers because Reesy isn’t feeding him fast enough.

“Hmm, your guess is as good as mine,” I tell her. “But that’s okay. We don’t need him to hang with us all the time, now, do we?”

Dani’s sitting down with her eyes fixed on the kitchen table. She’s acting like she can’t hear. I know it’s because I’m making her nervous. She’s hip to the fact that, on the one hand, I treat her nasty-nice, but then on the other, I turn around and request that she come over. Both she and Neil think I’m losing it. But I’m losing nothing. Haven’t they heard about keeping your enemies close? Keep them so close that they feel too awkward to try anything?

“Now finish what you were telling me,” I say, and take a seat next to her. When I offered her a beer a few minutes ago, she just stared at me. I think she wanted to roll her eyes but thought twice about it.

“I was saying that my boss was really acting like an ass.”

“What was he doing?”

“What wasn’t he doing?” she says.

“Be specific, Dani.”

“Okay. Duntworth would stand over my shoulder even though I really didn’t have any serious work to do. And sometimes he monitored my personal calls.”