When He Cheatin' and You Still Love Him (13 page)

Chapter 17

Shanair

“Terry, did you hear that?” I ask as I sit up in the bed and stare at the window. “It sounds like somebody is fighting in the front of the house.” When he doesn’t respond, I nudge his pillow trying to get his attention. “Terry, get up. Do you hear—” I stop mid-sentence when I notice that his ass isn’t even in the bed.

Once again my man has left in the middle of the night while I slept. Sometimes I wonder what the hell goes through his mind at times. Frustrated, I shake my head.
When will this bullshit stop?
As I stretch, I groan because my arms are extremely sore. One by one I take my hands and try to massage away the throbbing pains in both of my shoulders, but after a few seconds I realize that I’m only making them hurt more. With my eyes closed, I lean my head back and roll it around in a circular motion a few times trying to work out the cramp in my neck. When that also doesn’t work I give up. My upper body is killing me. My arms hurt, my head is throbbing and neck is tender. I’m not sure if I’m up for feeling this way for the next few days. Unfortunately for me, I don’t think I have a choice in the matter.

After Terry pulled me into the bathroom and locked the door, he proceeded to beat the shit out of me. Since the bathroom downstairs is only a half bath and small as hell, I knew that there was no way that I would get out of there past him; especially with him standing directly in front of the door, so I tried to fight my way out. I swear I kicked my feet and swung my arms as hard as I could, but none of that mattered, because Terry always seemed to have the upper hand. If I kicked, he swatted my foot away. If I swung, he grabbed my wrist and twisted it. It only took me a few minutes to realize that I didn’t have a chance at defending myself, so I grabbed my legs and balled up in a knot. Usually that works, but this time it did nothing, because Terry was determined to punish me. He didn’t even seem to care that his kids were sleeping just upstairs.

I cried when he took each of my arms, roughly prying them off my legs. When he was finished, he yoked me up once again by the front of my shirt and stood me up. He was holding on to my collar so tight that it was digging into my neck and burning my skin. Over and over again, he smacked me in the face with an open hand, until I begged him to stop. Even that didn’t work. He continued to hit and slap me around for the next few minutes. Turns out the entire ordeal from beginning to end only lasted about ten minutes, but to me that shit felt like it took forever.

The following morning was a quiet one. As we ate breakfast at the table with the kids, I silently seethed inside, because I was still ready to get to the bottom of the shit between Terry and that raggedy ass Katrina. Since I’m not one to show the kids just how crazy things can be when they are around, I kept my mouth closed until Terry took them home. While he was gone I called up Katrina and let her know that I knew all about their little “thing”, while also letting her know that I was going to beat the breaks off her ass whenever I saw her. Of course she talked a bunch of bad shit, none of which I paid any mind. I had already made up my mind that I would let her know the real when I saw her.

Once I heard Terry’s car pull up, it was on then. I didn’t give a damn about the fight the night before; I was ready for round two. Yeah he had fucked me up, but I wasn’t going to let him think that he could get away with the shit he pulled. Up until that point I hadn’t even mentioned Katrina to him at all, but I damn sure was going to then. All the big and bad shit he was speaking the night before was gone when I told him that I was going to leave his ass. Now I knew I wasn’t going anywhere, but I wasn’t sure if he did or not, because over and over and again he continued to apologize. I can’t put my finger on it, but something was different. Terry actually looked sorry for what he had done. I didn’t remember seeing him look that remorseful since he broke down and told me about Katrina being knocked up. If the sorrow I saw on his face is about anything similar to that; I don’t even think I wanna know. 

Finally, I make up my mind to get out of the bed. My plan is to go downstairs and check to see Terry is down there, even though I doubt it. More than likely he’s gone, but the only way I’ll know for sure is to go check. If not I’ll be just jumping to conclusions, and I hate that. As I slide my feet into my house shoes and stand up, the commotion outside grabs my attention once again, so instead of going out my bedroom door, I pass it and head to the window. Separating the blinds slightly, I look down and just like I thought, there are two people arguing on the opposite side of the street in front of my house. It’s raining like hell out there, but it doesn’t seem to bother them because they’re standing right in it.

It’s a male and a female. I can’t really see him too clearly from all the rain drops on the window, but from where I’m standing, I can see the female swinging on him. He’s wearing a hoodie and his back is leaned up against a car, as he tries his best to block her hits, but she’s not having it. When I see her rush toward the trunk, I know that shit is about to get real. I wonder to myself why they couldn’t have taken the shit down the street, and not act up in front of my shit. After a quick glimpse in the direction of the alarm clock, I see that it’s almost three o’clock in the morning. Thank God I don’t have to work or I’d really be upset. I’m quickly tired of watching the nonsense, and turn to walk away to go and check and see if Terry is downstairs, but when I hear the sound of glass shattering, I reface the window. 

My heart sinks and my eyes open wide when I see the female is going to town on Terry’s car with whatever it is that she’s holding in her hand. She swings with all her might, and repeatedly brings it down on his front windshield, before moving around to the side windows. The guy rushes her and snatches, what I now see is a bat from her grasp. It’s only then that I realize who he is.

“What the fuck?!” I yell, not believing my eyes.

It takes me no time to grab a pair of jeans out my drawer. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I’m damn sure about to find out. I discard my house shoes, and race down the hallway toward the stairs, only stopping to hop into my pants along the way. By the time I make it to the bottom, I see that my front door is wide open. Oh yeah, this muthafucka has lost his goddamn mind! My tennis shoes are by the door, so I grab them and slip them on, not even bothering to untie them. Right now my only concern is finding out what the hell is going on, and why there is a bitch outside my house tearing my man’s car up.

“Terry!” I yell, when I rush out of the door. The rain is pouring down so hard, that it makes it difficult to see.

“Shanair, go back in the house. I got this!” he responds, walking over toward me. His arms are outstretched and in the direction of the female, who’s attempting to come my way. “Just go back in the house baby.”

His hoodie is soaked, and his voice has a pleading tone, but I don’t have plans on obeying his commands.

“Baby? That bitch wasn’t baby the other day!” the female screams. “Don’t play with me Terry, because I will whip your and her ass out here tonight!”

“What the fuck is going on and who the hell is she?” Although I hear her threats, I don’t have to time to listen to them, because I want to get to the bottom of this shit right now.

“Just go in the house Nair, I’ll explain as soon as I—”

“No! You’re going to explain this shit right now!” I interrupt. “Now tell me what the fuck is going on. Why is she outside my house yelling and breaking your windows?”

“Because I can, bitch!” the chick shouts.

“Shut the fuck up Brittany!” Terry scolds her.

Brittany…why does that name sound so familiar?

“No, she needs to hear this,” Brittany laughs. “Your, better yet,
our
man ain’t shit boo. He’s been fucking me with no problems for months, and now that I’ve told him I’m pregnant, he wants to play crazy. Ain’t that right Terry?” She turns to him with a smirk.

“Take yo’ ass on Brittany. I ain’t gone tell you again,” Terry warns, but she ignores him and continues talking. 

“Tell her how you were sweating me that night about giving you my number.” Brittany takes a step in Terry’s direction.  “Tell her how you took me out and spent money on me, trying to get the pussy.” She takes another step. “Tell her how you swore to me that you weren’t fucking with nobody else. You told me that I was the only one!” When she was close enough, she hauled off and punched him dead in the face.

“Bitch! What I tell you about putting your fucking hands on me?” Terry roars, before shoving her backwards roughly.

“Tell her,” Brittany says urging him to spill the beans. “Tell her about all the times you told me you loved me,” she says, and I can hear the pain in her voice. My heart is in my stomach. “Tell her how when I finally found out about her, you told me that she wasn’t an issue and how it was basically over between the two of you. You said that you were just living here because she didn’t have anyone else.” Brittany starts to walk toward Terry once again. “Don’t be scared now Terry, tell your woman how you told me that my pussy is so much better than hers. Tell her Terry!”

“Why you out here lying and shit?!” Terry asks throwing his arms up in the air.

With the rain beating down on me, I wipe the wetness from my face with both of my hands. I squint and look at Terry as best I can through the downpour. Although he’s calling her a liar, his expression is a guilty one. It’s then that it hits me. I’m not sure what triggered it, but I now remember why the chick’s name sounds so familiar. Brittany is the one that Terry was speaking to on the phone just a few months ago. She was female that he told that he would be there soon, and the same one that he left out of our house for in the middle of the night. He beat my ass behind this bitch, all because I threatened to call her and ask her how he knew her. Now he’s standing here calling her a liar, as if he hasn’t been fucking with her at all.

When Terry sees me looking at him, he shakes his head as if to say that what she is saying is not true. I don’t say a word; only continue to stare at him. He drops his head pitifully, before taking a few steps in my direction. I’m not sure if he can tell that although my face is covered with rain drops, there are quite a few tears mixed in as well. I’m heartbroken and can’t believe this shit. He’s done it again, even though he promised that he would never hurt me this bad again. It never fails. Terry always finds some way to make me look like a fucking fool. When he’s close enough, he reaches out and attempts to pull me close, but I smack his hands away.

“Don’t touch me!” I warn, while giving him the evil eye.

“Don’t play the good man now!” Brittany yells, obviously upset by him trying to console me.

Terry pleads with me with only his eyes, takes another step closer, before turning his back to Brittany. His gesture lets me know that I am the only person that he’s concerned with at the moment. Usually I would feel a little better about the situation, because it was his way of showing me that my feelings trump hers, but after hearing that not only has he been fucking her, but that she’s pregnant, there ain’t shit he can say to make me feel better. Brittany must have felt disrespected, because instantly a scowl covers her face. In no time she’s rushing over toward us with her fists balled up. As soon as she’s close enough to Terry, she swings and begins to punch him anywhere she can land a hit.

Not wanting to be struck, I jump back and move out of the way. Usually I would have put my foot off in her ass for hitting on my man, but I know that this here is not my fight. Why would I further embarrass myself? Terry is dead wrong for this, and I’ll be damned if I get caught up in even more of his drama. I watch as Brittany scratches and claws at Terry’s face. He pushes her backwards, but she continues to run up on him swinging wildly. When she throws a punch and hits him square in the eye, Terry responds by throwing one of his own. Upon impact, Brittany’s head jerks back and she stumbles, before falling flat on her ass on the ground in the small patch of grass near the side of the house.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to do that!” Terry shouts, moving quickly to help her up.

“Did you just hit me?” Brittany asks, as if she didn’t already know. “Mutha’fucka you don’t know who you’re fucking with!” She lies on her back and kicks her feet out at him. “Stay the fuck away from me. Don’t you ever fucking touch me again.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you,” Terry tells her sincerely. “You kept hitting me after I asked you to stop.”

“Nah, fuck that! You hit me in my fucking face like I was a man. I’m
pregnant
you dip shit, and you gone punch me? I promise you’re going to pay for this here,” Brittany warns. “You just wait and fucking see.” She rolls over onto her knees and pushes herself into a standing position. When Terry attempts to help, she smacks his hands away. “Bitch, I said don’t touch me.”

I watch as the man I love continues to try to help his lover off the ground. It makes me sick to my stomach to hear him apologize for hitting her. Don’t get me wrong, I know that hitting woman is a big no-no, and I don’t condone it at all. The thing is that Terry hits and punches me all the time, and doesn’t show this much concern for me or my wellbeing. He’s even choked me until I’ve passed out one day, and I still didn’t get this type of treatment, so what makes this bitch so important?

Does he really love her like she claims?

I can’t take it anymore. The scene in front of me is too much to bear. I turn and walk away, leaving them in my front yard still arguing. As I step into my house, I overhear Brittany threaten to call the police. Like I said before, I don’t want any part of it, so I close and lock my door behind me, leaving Terry to deal with his mistress, or better yet, baby momma alone.