Chapter One
As the second child in a family of six, I'm used to sharing things, but my man? I don't think so. Some women might say, "Just look the other way and reap the financial benefits-or better yet, get a little plaything of your own." I just can't seem to get down with that program.
We're well into the 21st century and AIDS is far too prevalent. I'm not about to let all the shit I've worked for during the past thirty-two years of my life get snuffed out just because I decided to receive the wrong penis. As they say, "I'm not going out like that!"
So as I look around the bedroom at all the crap he has, I ask myself, Should I do like Angela Bassett in Waiting to Exhale and torch all his shit? Or should I be the nice Catholic girl my mamma raised and neatly pack his bags?
There is acid in my veins as I look around the room. I simply can't decide.
Michael and I lived in a townhouse we purchased for two years before I caught his ass screwing around on me with some little hoochie chicken. We'd been dating off and on for almost four years. But despite outside pressures, neither of us was really ready to get married. We were both still working on securing our careers. He'd just opened his own dental practice and I'd recently secured a vice presidency at an extremely successful advertising agency. Neither of us was hurting for money.
To be honest, our relationship hadn’t been all that great for a little while-at least seven or eight months. I continued to stay because I'd already invested a great deal of time into it. I didn't want to start all over again with someone else. To me, all men were basically the same after a while-just different faces and different names. Since I was already used to Michael’s games and bullshit, I wasn’t in a hurry to find, train, and get used to someone else. Plus, being a crazed security freak, I knew I’d always be financially secure with Michael. At thirty-three, he was at the beginning of an extremely promising dental career. I was financially secure myself but subconsciously, or maybe not so subconsciously, I needed a successful and financially stable man in my life-even if he did treat me like shit at times.
On several occasions, I really did want to leave Michael. There were times when he could be incredibly demanding and insensitive, almost to the point of emotional and verbal abuse. But I was strong and could handle that. I knew who and what I was, so his words just rolled off my spine like drops of water. I didn't get to where I was by being sensitive and weak. As long as he never laid a hand on me, I could pretty much deal with anything he had to dish out. Except for cheating, that is. I would not and could not tolerate cheating for a second. We're talking about my health now and I had to be healthy to make the kind of money I was used to making.
Still, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I strolled in a day early from a business trip. I remember being so happy and really wanting to share a major deal I had just secured with Nabisco to do its TV and radio advertisements for the next two years. My series of meetings ended on Friday instead of Monday so I decided to catch an early morning flight home from Pittsburgh and surprise my man. I planned to take him out for a fabulous brunch at our favorite restaurant.
Well, actually, I'm not telling the whole truth. I did want to surprise Michael. However, to be honest, I was a little suspicious. I'd been getting a lot of recent hang up calls at the house, which had raised my antennas a bit. Even though I had some idea that he was being a dog, I was still shocked when I walked into my kitchen to find "Little Miss Thang" cooking my so-called man breakfast with my powder-puff blue terrycloth Calvin Klein bathrobe wrapped around her little scandalous body. I knew Michael could be bold and brazen, but I never dreamed that he’d actually have the audacity to bring another woman into my house. Go over to hers or take her to a hotel? Yes. Bring her to mine? Hell, no!
When I stumbled upon his nasty little secret, I knew right then and there that he’d have to pay dearly for his actions. To top it off, the girl couldn't have been more than nineteen or twenty.
Not that it would’ve made a difference if she’d been my age, but I had shoes older than her.
Seeing her through the double-glass doors made my heart sink into my Gucci pumps. After I went into a silent cardiac arrest, I tried to walk quietly into the kitchen to catch her off guard. It only took a moment for her to realize I was there. She was petrified when she noticed me; damn near knocking over whatever the hell it was she was cooking. It smelled like bacon-a food Michael never wanted to touch my lips. We didn't even have a pack of bacon in the house when I'd left four days ago. She'd obviously brought it with her.
It was certainly a funny sight-swine cooking swine. She had to know a woman lived there because it was obvious. The townhouse had FEMALE OCCUPANT written all over it. Hell, all she needed to do was peek into my mirrored walk-in closet. Evidently, she had since her grubby little ass was in one of my favorite robes. I have no respect for a woman that would knowingly screw somebody else=s man. She’d have to be dealt with.
I didn't even say a word. My eyes apparently said it all because she ran right out of the house, barefoot and all-in my robe. Personally, I didn't know where she thought she was going. I didn't bother to chase her. She'd be back since there was absolutely nowhere for her to run and certainly no place for her to hide. We lived in the middle of No Man=s Land and the only car in my driveway was Mike's BMW.
I walked through the living room toward the bedroom. My heart was pounding so hard, I thought my entire chest was about to explode. The bedroom door was cracked and I could see his trifling ass lying there fast asleep. Aw, how sweet! She was making him breakfast in bed.
I contemplated shooting him but I didn’t have a gun. Stabbing him or throwing boiling water on his ass were also options, but he wasn't even worth it. I couldn't make any money from a jail cell. I decided to go inside and punch him so hard my fist would go right through his eye and end up on the pillow beneath his head. That's exactly what I did.
Completely stunned and bewildered, Mike immediately jumped up from the bed screaming. The only thing I could do was scream back, cursing him all the way and calling him every profane name I could think of.
"Baby, baby, wait! Let me explain!" he yelled, trying to shield his naked body from my forceful blows. His shrunken dick and balls were swinging in the air like the Confederate flag flying over a redneck's doorstep. Oh, how I wanted to do a Lorena Bobbitt on his triflin' ass!
"I want you out of here! And you'd better go find your little bitch before I do!" I hollered at the top of my lungs.
Seeing that he could do nothing to calm me down, he grabbed his jogging suit from the chaise beside the bay window and clumsily attempted to dress himself, all the while ducking and dodging the stuff I was throwing at him.
After he was dressed, he headed for the door, the driveway and, ultimately, his car. I hysterically ran outside behind him, still throwing all of his suits, shoes and belongings at him. I don't even remember what I was saying. I was just so enraged. Despite my frantic state, my aim was pretty good-if I do say so myself. A couple of his shoes connected right to the back of his neck.
"We'll talk when you calm down! You're making a complete spectacle of yourself!" he hollered from the car. At that moment, I saw his little whore run out from nowhere (still in my robe) and hop into the passenger side of the vehicle. I started to run after her and rip her ass to shreds, but decided against it when I saw all the neighbors out on their lawns observing our fiasco. Probably just as embarrassed as I was, Michael sped down the road at what must have been one hundred miles an hour.
So that's how it happened!
It really didn't surprise me. Michael wasn't any good and I pretty much knew that. But I just thought he was an arrogant, conceited and pompous jerk. I didn't really think he was a lying cheat. Once the smoke had cleared, I wondered how long it had been going on. I wondered if she'd been in my bed before. It really didn't matter. However long it had continued, it was over now. She could have him.
My very best friend, Trish, was happy-not for my pain, but for my final exit from the relationship. "Now are you finally going to leave him?" was all she asked.
The funny thing was that after that entire ordeal, once I got inside the house, I noticed that I hadn't even shed a tear. I actually felt as though the Empire State Building had been lifted off my back. I guess all I'd really needed was a solid excuse.
After such commotion, the house was empty and eerily quiet. I walked into the kitchen to the stench of burning pork and quickly dumped the frying pan into the sink. After I calmed myself a bit, I sat my aggravated bones down at the breakfast bar and dialed M-A-T-T-R-E-S. I requested that a new mattress be delivered immediately. I surely wasn't about to lie down in the same place where he'd fucked his whore. And first thing Monday morning, I planned to call my doctor to get a HIV test. If it came back anything other than negative, I'd certainly die in jail-my punishment for being a murderer.
To be honest, I was really OK with the entire Michael thing. I actually handled it a whole lot better than I would’ve thought. The only things I was concerned about were the test results and whether or not Michael would let me buy out his half of the townhouse. The nails on our relationship's coffin had been tightly hammered shut, but I certainly wasn't going to be the one to leave my home. I'd found the house and I was the one who'd decorated it. I definitely didn’t want some judge forcing us to sell it and split the profits. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
It was my home.
For the first time ever, I suddenly realized that I regretted not marrying him. Without a marriage certificate, I knew I'd have to buy Michael out if I wanted to keep the house. If I'd married him, I would’ve been able to cite infidelity and not only get sole possession of the townhouse but probably also take him to the cleaners for years to come. Hell, I would’ve owned half of a dental practice without spending one day in dental school. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew there would come a time when I'd regret not getting that piece of paper. I could hear my mamma's voice in the back of my head saying, "I told you so!" But at least I wasn't stupid enough to have any kids by him. "No children out of wedlock" was a rule I never intended to break.
The good thing was that I could afford to buy him out-if he'd sell his half to me. I'd kill him if he didn't. I definitely feared that he'd want to make up and continue living as we were. Or worse, he'd want to buy me out. I'd never sell to him in a million years. I'd kill him first.
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