Sisters and Husbands (17 page)

“What you up to?” Charmaine asked as she slid up behind Tyrone, seated at his desk. He was obviously watching a film on the
Internet, but she was trying to break the chill that had frosted the atmosphere in recent days.

“A political documentary,” he said as he pressed the mouse button to pause the film. He turned around in his swivel chair
to look at her and smiled. It was an awkward smile, but at least he wasn’t scowling at her. Maybe he was ready to mend things
too.

“I came to apologize for…” She paused when she realized she didn’t even know what she was apologizing for. In her opinion,
she hadn’t done anything wrong. But she wanted to warm the air between them. She wanted things to be the way they were. And
to get that, she had to give a little. She scanned her memory over the past several days, back to when it had all started
going wrong. “For not being more understanding.”

Tyrone nodded. “Apology accepted. I’m sorry it got so far out of hand.”

It was kind of painful to apologize when you didn’t really think you had done anything wrong. But she was damned if she was
going to let a spoiled teenager ruin her marriage to a man who was a good husband most of the time. And if she wanted to save
this relationship, someone had to take the first step. She honestly didn’t think Tyrone had the foresight or clarity of mind
to do it when it came to Tiffany. That left her. “Let’s try to avoid letting things go that far in the future, okay?” she
said.

“Deal.” He reached out and lightly touched her breast through her sundress. It was so unexpected, given that his daughter
was right in the next room, and it sent tingles up Charmaine’s spine. She laughed softly as his hand slid slowly beneath the
dress and up to her thigh.

“Whoa, big guy. You don’t waste any time, do you?”

“We’ve already wasted too much time,” he said as he pulled her toward him.

She hiked her skirt up, spread her legs wide, and straddled him. He gave her a long and tender kiss. His tongue traveled slowly
down her neck, and he slipped the spaghetti strap to her sundress off her shoulder as he kissed it. She felt him growing harder
between her legs, and she gripped the back of the chair and pressed herself against him. He moaned softly and hastily pulled
his shirttail from his slacks.

He gently pushed her onto her feet, then stood and shut the door to his office. He sat back down, reached up, and quickly
slid her thong down to one foot. She straddled him again and he undid his fly just as a voice came from the other room.

“Daddy!”

They froze. Tyrone shut his eyes. Charmaine swallowed hard and prayed that she had imagined it.

“Daddy, can you come here? The TV’s not working right.”

Between the two of them, they released enough hot air to melt the snowcap on a mountaintop. Charmaine dragged herself off
Tyrone, pulling her thong up and her dress down. He zipped his pants.

“Sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. He kissed her lips as he stood.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I understand.”

He paused at the door before opening it. “Can we finish this later tonight?”

She nodded. “You’re on.”

“Again, I’m really sorry.”

“Daddy!”

“Go,” Charmaine said. “I’m fine. Or I will be.”

They both laughed as he walked out the door.

E
velyn lit a scented candle and placed it on the edge of the bathtub, then poured a generous amount of gel under the tap. As
the tub filled and bubbles began to form, she walked back into the bedroom, slipped out of her nightgown, and wrapped herself
in a white terry-cloth robe.

Today was D-day. She was about to launch Operation Tell Me Now. Not next week or next month.
Today.

But first she had to decide what to wear. She strolled into her walk-in closet and remembered that Kevin loved blue on her.
He’d told her that on their very first date, and it had been years since she’d thought about it. In fact the color blue had
fallen completely off her radar.

She searched through the closet until she finally stumbled across an old powder-blue St. John pantsuit that she hadn’t worn
in years. It was funny what you remembered, given the right circumstances, she thought as she selected a sleeveless beige
silk top and a long double strand of fake pearls.

She laid the clothes across the bed, then went back into the bathroom and slipped out of her robe. She sank beneath the bubbles
and breathed in the sea-scented oil as she leaned back and refined her plan of attack.

Today was Wednesday, one of Kevin’s days off. She had called the store where he worked and learned that he stayed late on
Tuesday nights and slept in on Wednesday, so she was going to surprise him at his apartment. She was tired of waiting for
him to come to her. Tired of letting him have all the control. No longer would she allow him to jerk her about like a rag
doll. It was time to take action. She was going to get all dressed up, then park her rump at his place and refuse to budge
until he told her exactly what he was planning to do about their marriage.

She had decided yesterday afternoon to make this move after having lunch with Reuben. Spending time with an attractive man
just made her miss her husband that much more. After lunch, she had gone back to her office and spent most of the afternoon
phoning clients and rescheduling them for later this week or next. Then she telephoned one of Kevin’s poker buddies and sweet-talked
him into giving her the apartment number of Kevin’s new digs in College Park, not far from the University of Maryland. Last
night she stopped and bought bagels and cream cheese, one of Kevin’s breakfast favorites.

She stepped out of the tub and dressed slowly and carefully, paying close attention to each and every detail. She finished
off with the pair of platinum and sapphire earrings that Kevin had given her on their tenth wedding anniversary. She knew
not to apply perfume too liberally and to avoid eye shadow altogether—Kevin hated all that.

She stood in front of the full-length mirror next to the bed and checked herself over, from the hair, neatly tucked into place,
to the black patent leather sandals and bag. Hmm, she thought. Not bad for a forty-seven-year-old mama. She thought she looked
pretty hot. The question was, would Kevin?

No, no, he absolutely wouldn’t. She shook her head at herself. He would hate every bit of it, from the fancy suit and shoes
to the expensive jewelry. Wasn’t that exactly the point he was trying to get across to her? Hadn’t she learned anything at
all?

She snatched the glittery earrings out of her earlobes and slammed them down on the dresser. She kicked the shiny heels across
the floor and ripped the designer suit off. She marched into the walk-in closet, threw on a pair of blue jeans and a white
cotton shirt, and slipped her feet into her Pumas. Now she was ready for the new Kevin.

Or was she?

Charmaine was typing a draft of a letter for her boss when the telephone rang at nine-thirty that morning. She placed the
receiver between her ear and shoulder and kept on typing until she heard Tyrone’s breathless voice on the line. Something
was dreadfully wrong.

She stopped typing and listened as Tyrone explained that Tiffany had just called him screaming about something that happened
at the house and that Kenny had given her a busted lip.

“Wait a minute, Tyrone,” Charmaine said. “Slow down. First, is Tiffany all right?”

“What the hell do you mean, is she all right? Her lip is busted.”

“I don’t mean it like that,” Charmaine said. “She’s not bleeding or seriously hurt or anything, is she?”

“Not as far as I know. I’m leaving work and on my way there now.”

“Well, how did it happen?” Charmaine asked.

“I have no idea. She said Kenny hit her.”

“If that’s true, it must have been an accident.”

“Not according to Tiffany. She said he hit her on purpose when they were playing a game or something.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute,” Charmaine said firmly. “No way.”

“Are you saying that she’s lying?”

Charmaine hesitated. Careful here, girl, she thought. “Maybe you misunderstood her.”

“I don’t think so,” Tyrone said. “She sounded pretty clear to me. And we both know they don’t get along. But I’ll get to the
bottom of it when I get there.”

Charmaine glanced toward the letter she was typing. She wanted to leave the office so badly to see what was going on herself,
but her boss needed this draft now. And then she would probably want to make revisions. Charmaine figured she would be lucky
to get out of there within the next hour.

“Do me a favor?” she asked Tyrone. “Call me when you get to the house. I’m going to try to get off here, but I’m not sure
when I can.”

“We don’t both need to be there. I can handle it.”

Charmaine wasn’t so sure about that. In fact she was sure of the opposite. Tyrone would never be able to deal with this impartially
because it involved his daughter. The only way to ensure that Kenny got a fair shake would be to get there herself.

As soon as they hung up she dialed the house. Kenny picked up on the first ring.

“Ma, I was just trying to reach you,” he said anxiously. “Tiffany has a busted lip.”

“I know. Tyrone just called me. What happened?”

“We were playing tennis on the Wii, and I reached back to swing and hit her. I didn’t mean it. It was an accident, I swear.”

“I know you didn’t mean it, Kenny. But I’ve told you repeatedly to stand far apart when you play on that thing.”

“I forgot and then she moved in just as I was swinging.”

“Did you apologize to her?”

“Yeah. About a hundred thousand times, but she keeps saying I did it on purpose,” Kenny said, his voice rising with anger.
“I’m through apologizing to her.”

“Calm down. I know you would never do something like that deliberately, okay? Tyrone is on his way to the house. You just
explain your side to him, and I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

“Can you hurry up? He’s not going to believe me over her, no way. She’s walking around now talking about how her daddy’s going
to kick my ass.”

Charmaine sighed. She wanted to leave so desperately. But there wasn’t much she could do other than try and will Kenny to
be strong. “No one is going to kick your ass or anything else. Just tell Tyrone your side of it when he gets there. Don’t
be scared. And if there’s a problem, you call me back here. I’ll be there as soon as I can, and we’ll get it straightened
out.”

God, she thought as she put the phone down. It was always something. Tyrone had stayed home the first two and a half weeks
of Tiffany’s visit; today was his first day back to work. Charmaine had wondered that morning as she left for the office how
long Kenny and Tiffany would be able to get along without adult supervision before one of them killed the other. Guess she
knew the answer now.

She turned back toward the computer and typed as fast as she could.

E
velyn parked her black Benz in front of the garden-style apartment building in College Park that Kevin now called home, shut
off the engine, and paused to calm herself. It was crazy how hard her heart was pounding. This was Kevin she was about to
see, a man she had known for more than two decades. Why on earth was she so panicked?

Because he had changed so much, and she wasn’t sure what to expect from him. It felt as if she didn’t know him at all anymore,
and that was frightening. There was a time when she could predict Kevin’s reactions with almost perfect precision. No longer.
The man upstairs was about as predictable as a boat on a storm at sea.

If she was going to do this, she might as well get going, she thought. Movement would help her shake off the jittery nerves.
She grabbed her purse and the bag of bagels from the passenger seat, stepped out of the Benz, and walked across the parking
lot.

One good thing to come out of this was getting the jeans and tennis shoes. She almost never wore either unless she was working
in the yard. Stylish they were not, but very comfy. She just hoped that Kevin would notice and appreciate her newfound “sluminess”
and willingness to bend. She could try to meet him halfway, within reason, if he would just tell her what halfway meant to
him. This silence wasn’t going to get them anywhere.

She walked up the stairs and found his unit on the second floor. She knocked and stepped back so he would be able to see her
clearly through the peephole. The door opened soon enough, and Kevin stood there. The sight of his bald head still jolted
her every time. He was wearing a navy bathrobe and black slippers, although it looked like he had been up and about for a
while.

“Evelyn,” he said, eyes wide with surprise to see her standing outside the door of his new apartment.

“Hi.” She forced a smile. “I hope it’s not a bad time.”

“No.” He opened the door wider. “Come on in.”

She stepped inside to see a studio apartment that looked almost exactly as she had envisioned it would, furnished sparsely
with inexpensive but serviceable rentals. “So this is where you’ve been hanging out?” she said, walking around slowly.