What's Done In the Dark

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  Meanwhile, my husband got a reprieve every day at work and with his out-of-town trips. Me, I never got a reprieve and it was taking its toll.

  I made my way into the back guest room that had become my mother’s room. Her door was open, and she was on her knees, praying.

  “Heavenly Father,” she was saying, “I end this prayer asking that you bestow upon me bountiful blessings tonight at bingo. If I win, I promise I’ll give the church ten percent. Amen.”

  I shook my head at my mom’s bootleg prayer and made my way back to my room. Her next step would be more practical. She would ask me for money for bingo.

  I wanted out of my life. And as soon as my husband got home, I was going to tell him. I simply couldn’t do this anymore.

  3

  Felise

  I NEVER KNEW JACK DANIEL’S could be so comforting.

  I’d been sitting here crying for the past thirty minutes, and since I knew I wasn’t much of a drinker, I’d been taking it slow. But the whiskey had me realizing one thing for sure: I was sick and tired of my husband.

  Fifteen years of begging for affection. Fifteen years of living with an obsessive workaholic. After fifteen years you’d think I’d be used to it, but I was exhausted. I’d begged Greg to make more time for me, to give as much to our marriage as he gave to his job. And he’d try, and succeed for a while, but then he would go back to normal.

  I needed a new normal.

  Don’t get me wrong. I had no plans to divorce my husband. At least I didn’t think I did. He’d been the one who had repaired my broken heart when my one true love chose another. It’s why I’d hung in for so long. But I knew that if something didn’t change, a change of address would be in my future.

  “Felise?”

  I turned around to the voice behind me. I immediately smiled at the sight of Steven, my dear friend and Paula’s husband.

  “Hey, pretty lady,” he said, hugging me. “What are you doing here?”

  I raised my drink. “Drinking,” I replied with a giggle. I wasn’t surprised that he was here. The Four Seasons bar had some of the best drink specials in town. “What are you doing here?”

  “I had a meeting with one of my frat brothers. He’s trying to get me on board with this business venture. It sounds promising, but it may take me away from the family more, and I’m just not sure that’s something I want to do.”

  That made me smile. Greg wouldn’t have even considered his family.

  “Good ol’ Steven,” I said, raising my drink to him in a toast. With the stretching I almost slipped off the chair.

  “Whoa,” he said, catching me. I could see the wheels turning in his head as he assessed my condition. “Okay, what’s really going on? What are you doing here?”

  I released a strained laugh. “What does it look like?”

  “It looks like you’re drinking”—he cocked his head and studied my drink—“whiskey.”

  I saluted him. “You’re good.”

  A light went on in his eyes, and his face changed. “Felise, what’s going on? Isn’t today your anniversary?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. Steven remembered it was my anniversary, but my own husband didn’t.

  “Where’s Greg?”

  I immediately lost my smile. “He’s at home, cleaning up.”

  “What?” Steven said, confused.

  “He’s vacuuming up the rose petals I had laid out for our romantic evening.”

  “What do you mean, vacuuming up?”

  I took a deep breath and set my drink down. I needed to leave that bourbon alone. It was starting to make my head spin. “You know my husband,” I said. “He’s cleaning. On our fifteenth anniversary. I know it sounds unbelievable. But that’s my husband, good ol’ Greg.”

  “Hey, man, can I get you anything?” the bartender asked, approaching us.

  “Bring me something a little lighter,” I said. “Apple martini.”

  “Should you be mixing liquor?” Steven asked.

  “Should you be all up in my business?”

  Steven smiled at that. He knew he couldn’t push me too far. He turned to the bartender and said, “You know what? Bring me a cranberry and vodka.” He slid into the barstool next to me. “You don’t mind me sitting here and having a drink with you, do you?”

  I shrugged indifferently. What I was thinking, though, was that right about now I’d rather sit with him than just about anybody.

  When the bartender placed the drinks in front of us, Steven said, “Okay, tell me what’s going on. You and Greg have a fight?”

  I took a deep breath, sipped my martini, then relayed the whole sad story.

  “Wow,” he said when I was finished.

  “Yeah.” I leaned in. “So tell me, Steven, if I recall, didn’t you whisk your wife away for a weekend in Puerto Rico for your anniversary?”

  Steven held up a finger to stop me. “Ah, not quite. That was the plan, but remember, Paula bailed on me.”

  I nodded. “Oh, yeah.” I remembered thinking Paula was out of her mind that day. Steven had called and asked her to meet him at the airport. He’d planned a surprise weekend trip for their anniversary, arranged childcare and everything, and Paula wouldn’t go because she said they “couldn’t just drop everything and jet off somewhere like they were single.” I’d felt like Paula and I needed to switch spouses.

  It was a feeling I quickly brushed off, even though Steven had been mine before he was Paula’s. But that was a long time ago. Back in college when he and I were best friends who crossed the line. And when he’d gone to DC for law school, I’d hooked him up with Paula, my best friend since high school, who had gone to Howard University and was making her home in DC. I’d just wanted her to show him around. I never expected them to fall in love.

  But the one thing I knew about Steven was he was a hopeless romantic. He would make up for that fiasco. No way would he let his fifteenth anniversary go by without some grandiose celebration.

  Steven took a sip of his drink, then sadly said, “I don’t know if we’ll even make it to fifteen.”

  “What?” I asked in shock. I knew Paula had been unhappy, but I had no idea Steven was feeling the same way.

  “Sometimes I feel like marrying Paula was the biggest mistake I ever made,” he candidly admitted.

  Immediately, I started feeling butterflies in my stomach. I tried to tell myself it was the liquor, but my heart wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, Steven was thinking about us. As horrible as it seems, at that very moment I hoped that he was. Then I would know I wasn’t the only one who still had unresolved feelings.

  4

  Felise

  IT’S TRUE THAT LIQUOR BRINGS out the real you. Because I had just asked a question that, had I been in my right mind, I would’ve never dreamed of asking. But I repeated it anyway.

  “You can be honest. It won’t hurt my feelings,” I said. “Do you ever think about us? That’s a yes-or-no question.”

  I was on my third apple martini. Couple that with the bourbon I’d had earlier and I was feeling pretty courageous.

  Steven was nursing his third drink—since joining me—so I could tell he had a little buzz, too. Still, he said, “Come on, Felise, we agreed that was a chapter that was closed.”

  I playfully stuck my bottom lip out. “I know we made the right decision. We’re too much alike.”

  “Yeah, and don’t forget, you fixed me up with Paula.”

  “Yeah, I did, and here we are.” My heart ached as I thought of their beautiful wedding. I loved Greg. I really did. But he was frugal and had considered a big wedding a waste of money, so we’d been married in a simple ceremony at the justice of the peace. The bad part was Paula had simple tastes, too. She couldn’t have cared less about a big wedding. But Steven was from a prominent family and his mother would’ve died if she’d been denied the opportunity to see her son married in a huge ceremony. And talk about huge! They’d had ten bridesmaids (including me), ten groomsmen, and two hundred
and fifty guests watch them exchange vows in a historic Catholic cathedral, followed by a reception for four hundred at an elite country club. Yep, I’d gotten a dirty courtroom at the courthouse and Paula had gotten my dream wedding.

  When the minister asked if anyone saw any reason why the two of them should not be married, the only thing that kept me from speaking up was the one-twentieth-of-a-carat ring on my finger. Of course, Steven had pulled out a four-carat diamond that had made everyone gasp.

  “Hey, are you still with me?” Steven waved his hand in my face.

  I tried to laugh, but a distorted cry came out instead. “Sorry.” I covered my eyes with the palm of my hand.

  “Hey, hey,” Steven said, scooting closer.

  I turned my head as I tried to ward off the tears. “Sorry. It’s just that sometimes I wonder about my marriage.”

  He sighed like he could relate. “You’re not the only one. It’s like, I love Paula, I really do. But after she became a mother, she changed. I try to do my part to help. I tried to hire a nanny, but Paula refused. I did what I could to make life easier for her. But it’s almost like she’s happier wallowing in pity.”

  I knew all too well what Steven was talking about. I knew full well how miserable Paula was. I talked to her about her negative attitude on a regular basis.

  Steven was about to say something else when his phone rang. He pulled it out of the holder on his hip, glanced at it, and said, “Speak of the devil. This is Paula.” He pressed Talk. “Hello.” He paused.

  “Naw, I’m still here,” he said into the phone. “I am not drunk . . . Yes, I had a few drinks.” He rolled his eyes and pulled the phone away from his ear as Paula’s loud voice broadcast from the phone. He put it back to his ear. “Look, don’t start with me, Paula. I told you I was going to be out late . . . I asked you to come. You’re the one who wanted to stay at home . . .” He gritted his teeth as he stood up. “Oh, don’t give me that. Your mom was there. Why is she living there if you don’t ever want to leave the kids with her?” He paused again, and I could tell Paula was going off. “You know what, I told you about calling me out of my name . . .” His brow was furrowing, and I could tell he was getting upset. “I don’t think so! I pay the mortgage. I wish you would put my sh—” I put my hand on his arm to calm him down and remind him where he was. He took a deep breath and said, “Stop threatening me with divorce. If you’re going to leave, then leave . . . I wish you would put my stuff on the lawn!”

  More muffled roars came from Paula’s end. Then finally he said, “You are deranged! I was meeting with Kevin, not another woman! Why would I invite you if I was planning on meeting another woman? . . . I didn’t think you’d refuse. You know what? You’re being ridiculous, as usual. Don’t call me rushing me. I’ll be home when I get home! You . . . Hello? Hello?”

  He tossed the phone on the bar. “Uggh!” He flinched as, unexpectedly, he grabbed at his chest.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. Paula had mentioned he’d been having some chest pains, but she had just chalked it up to stress from his demanding job.

  Steven stood deathly still for a minute, then relaxed before saying, “Yeah. That woman gives me heartburn.” He signaled for the bartender, and I relaxed. “Excuse me, can I get another drink? And make it a double!”

  I knew Paula wasn’t happy, but I’d had no idea their marriage had reached this extreme. “What was that all about?” I asked. I definitely noted that he hadn’t told her that he was with me.

  “I swear, that woman! I just don’t know how much longer I can do this. She’s always accusing me of cheating! Felise, as God as my witness, I’ve never cheated on her, but for as much as she accuses me, I might as well be.”

  “Don’t say that,” I replied as the bartender set a double shot glass in front of us. “Your wife loves you.”

  “I’m just tired.” Steven took his drink and downed it in one extended gulp. “See, you’re not the only one who’s unhappy.”

  I hesitated as I saw the pain swirl in his eyes. “Can I ask you a question?” I finally said.

  He managed a smile. “Ask away.”

  “Why didn’t you tell her you were here with me?”

  He shrugged, not looking guilty. “I don’t know. She didn’t give me a chance before she started going off. It’s probably best anyway. With the rampage she’s on, you don’t need to be dragged into our drama.”

  I nodded, for the first time wondering if she ever brought up our past.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, as if reading my mind. “It’s not you. She doesn’t have an issue with you, with us. Her issue is with me. Me and her.”

  Our eyes met when he said that, and I didn’t know if it was the liquor or what, but I found myself saying, “Do you ever find yourself wondering, ‘What if?’ You know, with us?”

  He stared at me as he somberly said, “All the time.” He sighed heavily and returned his gaze to his empty glass. “When I want to be spontaneous and go somewhere, I wonder about us. When I long to just kick back and have fun, I think about us.”

  “We did used to have some fun.” I managed to laugh. “Remember that day you woke up and said, let’s just drive to the Grand Canyon?”

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot about that,” he said, finally smiling. “What were we, like twenty? We just up and went. It took us two days, but we had so much fun.”

  “Oh, my God. You remember that honky-tonk club we went to and were teaching those people how to cabbage patch?”

  “What about when you told those people at that restaurant that we were Whitney Houston and Bobby Brown?”

  “I completely forgot about that.” Our laughter finally died down, and I grew somber again. “I haven’t felt that in a long time.”

  “Me either,” Steven said softly. At that moment his hand brushed up against my thigh. His touch sent shivers up my spine, and I was shocked. I’ll admit, I was hurt when I’d learned Steven and Paula were dating, but I blamed myself, so that forced me to bury those feelings. But if they were buried, why in the world were they being resurrected now?

  “Why did you fix me up with Paula?” he asked me.

  I wanted to tell him that was my biggest regret in life. But Paula was my best friend. I would never utter those words. “I . . . I had met Greg and, I don’t know, I just thought you and Paula would get along. I mean, I didn’t know you’d fall in love and get married and I’d have to see you forever.” I managed a smile.

  He didn’t return my smile. “You told me you saw me as more of a brother. That you didn’t want me.”

  My mind raced back to that day, the day before he was supposed to marry Paula. He’d come to me because he “needed to be sure” that he was doing the right thing. This man was about to marry my best friend. I was one of her bridesmaids. What was I supposed to say? “I thought I didn’t want you. I convinced myself that I didn’t want you,” I said, my voice shaking.

  “I knew you did.” His voice was husky as he leaned in closer. “I know you do.”

  Now was the time for me to tell him that he was out of his mind. To reiterate that no matter what I used to feel, we’d chosen our paths in life. But my feelings swam around in my brain and no words would come out.

  “Have you ever wanted something so bad, something that you’d denied yourself for years?” he stood over me and whispered in my ear. His hot breath tickled my neck.

  I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t say a word because all kinds of conflicting emotions were running through my body. We sat in silence for a few moments. Finally he said, “You shouldn’t drive tonight. Do you want me to call you a cab?”

  “I’m not going home tonight,” I found myself saying.

  He waited, then said, “Me either.”

  I knew we were about to venture into dangerous territory, but I couldn’t help it as my hand covered his. His touch was electrifying, and I didn’t know whether to run or collapse into his arms.

  He pulled himself away and motioned to the bartender. “Can I clos
e out my tab?”

  We didn’t say a word as the bartender rang him up. For a minute, I wondered if Steven was about to take off running as he nervously shifted from side to side.

  After signing the credit card receipt and stuffing his copy in his wallet, Steven turned back to me.

  “I’m going to get a room,” he finally said. “Wait right here.”

  He didn’t wait for me to reply as he hurried off toward the front desk. Everything inside of me was saying get up and go. Right now. Go home before it was too late. But go home to what? A husband who no longer knew how to make me feel like a woman? A husband who hadn’t seen me in years. A husband who thought so little of our relationship that he would forget our wedding anniversary? No, I had nothing to go home to.

  I don’t know how long I sat there, but Steven came back, leaned over me, and whispered, “Room 527. I’ll understand if you don’t show.” He eased a room key into my hand, and his touch sent more chills through my body. I took the key and didn’t turn to watch him as he walked away.

  5

  Paula

  PEACE. THAT WAS A WELCOME sound in my home, so I leaned back in my chair, closed my eyes, and relished the quiet.

  The kids were finally in bed, and my mom was still out. A part of me wanted to be mad that Steven wasn’t home yet—it was after midnight—but our argument had been pretty ugly, and he probably was going to get drunk with Kevin and talk about what a horrible wife I was.

  That actually made me sad because I really didn’t want to be a horrible wife to Steven. I just had so much bitterness and resentment, and I didn’t know how to work past it.