The kiss must have affected him the same way it affected me, because when our lips drew apart I heard him say, “Holy shit!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What are you doing this weekend?” Charles asked as we pulled in next to my black Saab.
“I’m going to dinner with the girls on Saturday,” I said.
“Here in White Plains?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s good,” he said, sounding distracted.
“Why?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he turned off the car. “I was wondering,” he turned toward me, “if you would want to come over to my place next Saturday? I’ll make dinner.”
“You cook?” I asked surprised.
“Yes, I do,” he smiled.
Wow, this is definitely the man for me.
“Good!” he said. “Bring an overnight bag. You can sleep in the guestroom.”
“Really?” I said, not believing him for a minute.
“Really,” he answered. “I will be a perfect gentleman.”
Well, I certainly hope not, I thought.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“He invited you to his home for dinner?” Melissa said surprised.
I nodded.
“And you’re going?” Patricia said astonished. She put her Sangria down on the table.
The Mexican music played in the background as I nodded again and reached for my strawberry margarita.
“You won’t change your mind?” Moira asked suspiciously.
“No,” I answered taking a sip.
“You won’t chicken out?” Janice said in disbelief.
I shook my head as I put a chip and salsa in my mouth.
We sat at the round table of our favorite Mexican restaurant in silence. My four closest friends. I looked back at them as they simultaneously looked like they had just been struck by lightning.
Janice finally broke the silence. “Well it’s about damn time!” She reached for her gin and tonic.
“I can’t believe it!” Moira lifted her glass of ginger ale in a silent toast.
“You’re actually going,” Patricia smiled.
“Yup,” I said taking another dip into the salsa.
I’ve worked with all four women at one time or another during my career in finance. We were now all great friends. And have been for many years. We faithfully got together every four months no matter what was going on in our lives. Except for Janice we were all in our early 40’s.
Janice, an Executive Assistant for a large insurance company, was in her mid-fifties, but looked like she was in her mid-forties. She did Pilates every day, was obsessed with keeping her porcelain skin out of the sun and had legs like Tina Turner. Janice had been divorced for many years. She was a mom of two grown children and one grandchild. The oldest in the group, she also happened to have a more active sex life than any of us.
Melissa, an Executive for a hedge fund, was a single mom in her early 40’s with a daughter just starting high school. Melissa had a boyfriend who was a bond trader. They both were the highest-ranking African-Americans at each of their firms. Melissa owned her own home and her boyfriend, Edward, had a townhouse on the other side of town. He was divorced with a pre-teen daughter. And unlike the exes of the women at the table he was very involved in his daughter’s everyday life. Melissa, a self-proclaimed independent woman, was happy living her own life. However, she was very much in love with Edward. But she also loved the fact that they could be together day in and day out, but go their separate ways whenever the mood would strike. They had been living that way for over five years. Melissa saw no reason to change things no matter how many times Edward asked her to marry him.
Moira’s husband was a Stock-Broker. I was very proud of the fact that I was instrumental in “fixing them up” when the three of us worked together at the same brokerage firm. Moira and I were both young, divorced, single mothers at the time. Moira had a two-year old daughter and my sons were five and six years old. Moira always wanted to have more children and be a stay at home mom. She now had her wish. Her husband, Dave, adopted her daughter. And the very Irish looking girls suddenly had a very Italian last name. Their daughter was now in her 2nd year of college. And Moira and Dave had two more small children.
Patricia our red haired siren and Accountant, was also a divorced mom and had a daughter in college. She lived with her boyfriend, Tony, for almost ten years. She was now Tony’s accountant. His roofing business was doing very well. They were now talking about buying a vacation home. Since both of them had gone through very painful divorces the talk of marriage never seemed to come up and both Tony and Patricia seemed pleased with the status quo.
I looked at the girls. “Well, don’t you have anything more to say?”
Patricia shrugged her shoulders, “I, for one, am very happy for you.”
“Thank you,” I said. I looked over at Moira.
“Just relax and enjoy yourself,” she said.
I looked at Melissa. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”
Melissa hesitated; looked at me; took my hand. And then she said with a smile on her face, “You’re finally getting laid.”
“It’s about damn time,” Janice repeated, taking another sip of her gin and tonic.
“I didn’t say all that,” I swallowed hard. “Besides, it hasn’t been that long,”
“Yes it has!” all of the girls said in unison.
I threw a chip at Melissa, who sat closes to me. “Kiss my ass!” I said.
“If you’re lucky he’ll do that, too,” Moira raised her glass in a toast. The other girls followed.
“To the end of her drought,” Patricia continued.
“It’s about damn time,” Janice said as she finished her gin and tonic.
1
Chapter 3
“The Escape” 1988
“Rita, can you & Marilyn pick us up tomorrow.” I said clutching the phone trying not to let my voice shake. “We need to leave right away.”
“Why, what happened? Did he hit you again?!” my sister yelled on the other line.
“I’m OK, but we need to get out of here,” I said purposely avoiding the question as I held back my tears.
“What did that bastard do to you?!” she asked.
“Rita please…Can you?” I said.
“Of course, of course! I’ll call Marilyn right away.” Rita was my only sister. Eighteen months younger than me we were each other‘s best friends. Marilyn was like a sister to us. She and I had been best friends since the 1st day of high school. She lived up the street from us. My grandparents considered her one of their twenty something grandchildren. “So glad you’re coming home.”
“Ummm, I’m not really coming home,” I said quietly.
“What? Then where are we taking you?”
“I spoke to Shirley…She said we could stay at her place. She has kind of a finished basement.” Shirley was an old friend of the family. She, my mother, and older aunts and uncles grew up together. I had called her in desperation the day before. Not able to take it anymore.
Holding my 19-month old son, Thomas III, or Tommy as we called him, on my hip while I gripped the phone with my other hand. I looked up into the mirror over my 2nd (maybe 3rd) hand dresser. Even as I saw the black eye I received last night continue to get darker I still held on to my pride. I didn’t want my grandparents to be disappointed in me and I certainly didn’t want my mother to say, “I told you so.” Once during an argument she told me that one day I’d be 40 years old and all alone. Even though at this moment in time I was only in my 20’s I didn’t want her to know she was probably right. No, there was no way I could go back home. I had to do this on my own.
“OK,” Rita said. I could hear the disappointment in her voice. “What time should we come and get you?”
“Rita, please don’t be upset. I’ll still be in Westchester County and only 20 minutes away from home as opposed to two hours. You know I can’t live with her. We’d drive each
other crazy.”
“Yea, I know,” she said.
“Anytime between 10AM and noon is fine,” I said answering her question. “It won’t take long. We don’t have that much.”
“OK. We’ll be there by 10,” Rita said in a determined voice.
“Her” was our mother, Margaret, or Maggie as the family called her. She was separated from my stepfather and was now living with my grandparents along with Rita and her two-year old little girl. You could say Maggie and I had a bit of a love/hate relationship. When we got a long it was great but unfortunately those good times didn’t last long. I often felt like she resented my very existence and she often told me she knew that I hated her for having me live with my grandparents. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. I adored my grandparents and the life they built for Rita and me. And especially the years I spent with Aunt Catherine. No matter how many times I denied it she never seemed to believe me. However, I don’t remember her ever saying she didn’t resent me. It was after meeting my husband Thomas that I found out why.
With her new found freedom my mother and her girlfriends started going dancing out on Long Island. There they met a guy named Thomas. She told him she had a daughter she wanted him to meet. It wasn’t till much later that I found out it was Rita she wanted him to meet and not me.
My mother had a habit of introducing us to unsavory characters. At first we would be excited since before college we knew no boys of color. But then we learned to be cautious. I’m sure her heart was in the right place but her taste was terrible. Once she hooked me up with a guy who turned out to have a wife and kid on the island of Jamaica. I was 19 and a virgin. Not a smart move.
So against our better judgment, one weekend when I was home from college she took Rita and me to the club where we met Thomas. He was dressed nicely and seemed like a nice guy. He bought Rita and me a drink. He and I instantly connected. We started talking, laughing and dancing. Next thing we knew he was inviting Rita and me to leave the club and go out for seafood. With no qualms from our mother we left and went with him. We enjoyed ourselves and had a lot of laughs.
Right after that he and I started dating. It got hot and heavy really fast. He was very attentive and even took me home to meet his parents. His mom was very nice, and his father was very funny. He had several siblings. Thomas was the oldest. We went to each other’s family functions & had a lot of fun together. We both came from big extended families so it really seemed to work. He would visit me at my college in upstate New York. Everything seemed perfect.
I would sneak down to Long Island on the weekends when I should have been in school studying. By the time the summer break came I was officially living with him, much to my grandparents’ dismay.
Then things started falling apart. When things were good with us, they were really good. But when they weren’t they really weren’t. As in most new relationships you want to spend every moment you can together. But then it got to a point where he would make excuses and make other plans for me so that I couldn’t see my friends or family. It happened so slowly I didn‘t even notice. I even saw it as; he just loves me so much he can‘t stand being away from me. It made me feel wanted and needed. But then he even began resenting my family functions. Not realizing there was a problem my family joked about how Janice attended more family functions than me.
One family function was when my grandparents renewed their vows for their 50th wedding anniversary. There was a big reception afterwards. Thomas purposely picked a fight with me. We had only been married for four months at the time. Knowing that I wouldn’t want my family to see what was going on we left long before the celebration got under way. I was heartbroken not to be with my family and especially to spend time with Rita, my grandparents, and my Aunt Catherine. I had already missed so many family functions since I’ve been with Thomas. I didn’t want to miss anymore.
We argued on the way home. It was at that time he told me that shortly after we began to date my mother told him and all their other friends hanging out at the club that I ruined her life. Although she had gotten married while young she had no intention of having any children right away. She had plans to be a doctor. Something she had always dreamed of. But the next thing she knew she was pregnant with me. She said that my father wanted her to have an abortion but she wouldn’t do it. Having an abortion in the ‘60’s was illegal and very dangerous back then. She was stuck with me and her dreams of being a doctor were destroyed. She said that even though my father wanted me aborted all I wanted was to be with him. I was “daddy’s little girl” till he left us all. What Thomas told me was hurtful and I didn’t want to believe him. But everything he said made since based on conversations I had overheard between my mother and grandmother. For some reason I had pushed those things out of my head…until that night. The night Thomas made a point of telling me I was a mistake and that NO ONE wanted me.
As our marriage went on it was clear that Thomas was a dreamer and was only happy when his dream remained a dream. Every time things were uncomfortable he’d want to move somewhere where he could “make his dreams come true”. Every time I found a job I really enjoyed Thomas would make us move. We moved to Long Island, Florida and Georgia so many times it made me dizzy. My family couldn’t believe it every time I told them I was moving again. Watching my grandparents work side by side to make their small business grow into a success I wanted to do the same thing. I thought Thomas and I could work as a team. I’d do whatever I could to make his dreams a reality. (Forgetting any possibility of working on my own dreams.) But every suggestion I made he would shoot down. No matter where we’d go, he’d never even take the 1st step to make that dream a reality. When he came up with the idea to move to Mississippi I had to put my foot down. By then we had Tommy and I was pregnant with Aiden. I refused to move anymore. I realized then that Thomas was just in love with the idea of having a dream. He didn’t want to do anything to work toward that dream. And of course according to him it was entirely my fault.
Thomas still kept us away from my family and friends. After Tommy was born Thomas would not allow us to go out anywhere. We ended up living on Long Island near his parents and almost two hours away from my family. I felt like I was a prisoner. It was so bad that the very few times we were allowed to even be with his family Tommy cried, I should say screamed, the whole time. He was not use to being around anyone other than Thomas, occasionally Thomas’ mother, and me.
Since I didn’t work and had no money there was no way for me to go out anywhere. I was scared of the neighborhood so I would take a walk just around the immediate area. Until the day I went into labor with Aiden. Thomas and I had been fighting because he had been spending all his time out at bars and when he came home in the middle of the night or early in the morning he was stinking drunk…literally. I was so tired of it! I learned the hard way not to let arguments escalate with Thomas so I put Tommy in the stroller and decided to take a walk. I was so angry I ended up walking about 5 miles away from the house. When I realized how far I had gone I turned around and started walking back. About 2 miles in I started having cramps. Remembering how I felt when I went into labor with Tommy I realized I might be going into labor soon even though the baby was not due for another 3 weeks.
When I got to the house Thomas was getting ready to go back out. I asked him to please stay close by because I thought I’d be going into labor soon. Of course he thought I said that so he wouldn’t go out but at that point I could care less. He mentioned he was going to his parents’ house to help his father do some painting around their house. That night he did come home. And that night I did go into labor.
Two weeks later it was Labor Day. As he did every year Thomas went to the West Indian Day parade in NYC. And as he did more often than not he did not come home that night. By 8AM I had his things packed and waiting at the door for him. I’d had enough. I told him to leave, that we needed to take some time apart. And that he had to figure out what it was he wanted from this marriage and me, t
hat I couldn’t live like this anymore.
After a big argument he went to his parents’ house to ask if he could stay there for a while. Surprisingly, his mother said “no.” I think her plan was to make him stop running and own up to his responsibilities. But not Thomas, what did he do? He moved in with a female “friend”. I gather one of his bar mates. Lesson learned…no matter how bad you think your man is, there is ALWAYS someone out there to scoop him up. Betty Wright, “The Cleanup Woman”, was that someone who scooped up Thomas.
My heart was broken but I knew I had to stay strong for the boys. The first thing I needed to do was get a job. I asked my mother-in-law who was a homemaker if she could watch the boys a few times a week. She said she didn’t want to get involved. When Thomas heard I wanted to get a job he came over and we fought (of course). He said there was no reason for me to leave the house. That he would do the grocery shopping for us and even pick up and do our laundry. Again, I thought ok… he still cares. Turns out he rarely ever did our laundry and I had no money to go to the laundromat so I ended up washing our clothes out in the bathroom. But every morning he would stop by the house to bring us groceries for the day while his “friend” waited in the car. And then he’d call on his lunch break to check on us and to tell me he still loved me. I wanted to believe that he and his friend were just that, friends. But one evening I knew for sure that wasn’t true. He called me from her place saying that she wanted to get to know Tommy and they wanted to pick him up that Saturday. Are you f*cking crazy??!! There was no way I was letting that man-stealing bitch touch my son!! I screamed that and more into the phone. And then he had the nerve to put her on the phone so she can “convince” me that they did not start sleeping together until a week after he moved in. Seriously?? Was that supposed to make me feel better? What the…?? I slammed the phone down and refused to answer it as it rang over and over again.
Till We Meet Again Page 4
