Preacher's Wifey

by Dishan Washington

  My mother was right.

  He leaned down and kissed me passionately. Then in one big, unexpected swoop, he picked me up, sat me on the island, and continued to kiss me, as if he would never get another opportunity to do so. I melted into the kiss, and before long we were taking off each other’s clothes and tossing them across the room. His shirt landed on top of the refrigerator, and my skirt crash-landed in the sink. He laid me down on the island and made love to me. It was so intense, tears crept into my eyes. I could feel the warmth from his body searing me inside, in places that had not been so much as warmed in recent weeks. If this man did not love me, he sure fooled me.

  His tongue explored my body with the sole purpose of pleasing me. His hands roamed in an effort to discover new spots. His gaze into my eyes was so powerful, I was forced to look away. We moved from the island to the kitchen table, and from there we concluded our love dance on the floor.

  We both lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling and breathing heavily. Several parts of my body were still smoking, although the fire was burning out. All he had to do was blow on me, and I would be amped up and ready to go again.

  “That was so good, baby,” he stated.

  “Good is an understatement. It was amazing.”

  “Yeah, that too.” He laughed.

  “A girl could get accustomed to being swept off her feet—literally swept off her feet,” I said as I rubbed my finger down his chest.

  We both laughed.

  He grabbed my hand. “I am going to do better, sweetheart. I have made the decision to go back to treating you just as good as I did before we were married.” He turned over to face me, stroked my chin, and looked into my eyes. “I promise.”

  Who was this man? Was this the Lord answering my secret prayers? Well, I knew one thing. The Lord sure was working in mysterious ways, because Seth Carson had crept up into my head space and was taking up a large portion of it.

  My response was simply a kiss. I scooted closer to him and laid my head on his chest. If we could live in this moment forever, it would have been all right with me. The man that had come home tonight was the man I had grown to love.

  The sound of the house phone ringing startled us both, because it never rang unless it was an emergency. I immediately thought about my mother, who had called earlier to say she wasn’t feeling well. I jumped up and made a mad dash to answer it.

  “Hello?”

  “I am so sorry to call your home, Allyson. But may I please speak with Byran?” the female caller asked.

  She did not need to say her name. My instincts told me who she was, and instantly my palms became sweaty and my heart began a race that could compete with the Indy 500.

  “Sure. One second.” I inhaled deeply. “Byran, it’s for you,” I said, pointing the phone in his direction.

  He looked confused, as if he could not imagine who would be calling him at home.

  “For me?” he said, puzzled.

  “Yes, for you.”

  He got up from the floor, found his pants, which had landed on the countertop during our clothes toss, and retrieved his cell phone. He pushed a few buttons on the BlackBerry, and the look on his face told me he had obviously missed some calls.

  He took the phone from my hand.

  “Hello,” he said, turning his back to me. “I am sorry. My phone was set to vibrate, but it was in my pants, and I did not feel it.”

  Why the hell didn’t he just tell her he didn’t feel it vibrating because he was having sex with me . . . his wife?

  He continued. “Is everything all right?” He paused. “I will be there as soon as I can. I have to shower and get dressed, but I will be on my way.”

  He placed the phone back in its cradle and turned to face me. I was already boiling hot, because I knew that whatever he was about to say was going to send me to the third dimension of anger.

  “Allyson, baby, I hate to skip out on our dinner plans for tonight, but—”

  I cut him off. “That was her, wasn’t it?”

  He dropped his head. “Yes.”

  “What did she want?”

  “She is in the hospital. They think the baby will come tonight.”

  “I thought you said she was five months.”

  “She is almost six now, but they have tried to stop her labor and nothing is working. Our son may be born prematurely.”

  A mixture of emotions flooded my heart, mind, and soul. While I hated to hear that a baby’s life was at stake, I also hated to hear the man I loved refer to his son with another woman. I bit the inside of my lip, hoping to numb the hurt I suddenly felt.

  “So you have to go there and, um, be with her, I guess?”

  “Baby, I am sorry. There is no way I could have anticipated this happening. I am so very sorry.”

  If asked to give a dissertation on how I felt in this very moment, I would not know where to begin. While he could not help that the baby was coming early, it was his fault there was a baby at all. What was I supposed to do while my husband was at the hospital, tending to the love of his life? What was I was supposed to do while he was at the hospital, holding her hand through her labor pains? What was I supposed to do while he sat praying and comforting her? Was I supposed to sit by the phone and await his call? Was I supposed to eat dinner and pretend none of this was happening? This was just too much. I felt dizzy.

  He stepped to me, and I impulsively stepped away. The man who had just had full access to my body was now a stranger to me, and I did not want him touching me—at all. I did not want him to hug me, because no hug—or kiss—was going to make me feel any better.

  “Just go,” I pleaded. “Go take your shower, get dressed, and be on your way. I am sure she is scared right now. Honestly, I cannot imagine how she feels. I don’t know what I would do if my baby was threatening to come this early, which gives him a small chance of survival.” I pushed away a lone tear that had slipped from my eyes. “Please. Just. Go.”

  He stepped toward me again, but I put my hand up and motioned for him not to come any closer. With his eyes he willed me to understand, and then he turned and walked away.

  I wrapped my arms around my waist, leaned against the refrigerator, slid to the floor, and cried. I cried because if the truth be told, this was my fault, as I had put myself in this situation. I could just walk away, but as I was quickly discovering, you could not help who your heart loved. And when you really loved someone, even if you knew you needed to, it was not that easy to walk away. Plus, if I walked away, what would I do? What would I have? Where would I go?

  I cried because I knew this was the first night of many. If the baby survived being born premature, he would have a difficult journey arriving at optimum health, and Byran would need to be there every single step of the way. I groaned as I imagined him leaving in the middle of the night because his son was sick, or on holidays because he had to share time with him. I shook my head, trying not to let my thoughts run too far into the future. For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to be in my future, especially if it resembled anything of the present.

  Byran reentered the kitchen, looking suave as ever. He was wearing Rocawear jeans and a Polo shirt, but even in those—his version of casual—he looked good. I could not help but get a whiff of his Gucci cologne. Anger slowly started pressing its way through me again.

  “I’m not sure what to say,” he began. “I don’t know if I should say I will call you later with an update or if you even care to know what happens. I know this is not easy for you, and to be honest, it isn’t easy for me. I have so many emotions floating through me right now. I am hurt that I have to leave you here, sitting on the floor, crying, and I am also afraid that my son might not make it. And I now know how you must have felt when you lost our baby,” he said as he wiped sweat from his forehead. “I just don’t know why this is all happening.”

  Was he serious? Maybe the stress of this had him delirious.

  “Byran, it is happening because you, like many other
men, are only happy when you can have your cake and eat it too. This is happening because you fell in love with a woman who you could not do right by, so you gave up on having her as you continued to love her. You tried, but you couldn’t let her go. Thus, you created a mess. The problem with it all is you are married to me and are forced to stay with me and keep your image up for the sake of your career. And that Byran is the reason this is all happening.” A thought came to me. “Exactly what hospital is she in? Because I know you have better sense than to be going to a hospital in Atlanta.”

  “Yeah, her doctor is in Chattanooga. It’s about an hour and a half away from here.”

  “Chattanooga? As in Chattanooga, Tennessee?” While I was hoping he had better sense than to have his pregnant mistress deliver in the city, I was amazed. They had this well planned.

  “Yes. Chattanooga, Tennessee.”

  “Wow,” was the only word I could get out.

  “Should I call you when I get there?” he asked hesitantly.

  Suddenly his presence sickened me, and all I wanted was for him to disappear.

  Realizing I was not going to answer his question, that was exactly what he did. Without another word, he walked out the door that led to the garage. I listened as the garage door went up, followed by his engine starting and the door going down again. It was such a horrible feeling to be left alone knowing the only company you would have was the agonizing thoughts in your head.

  I sat for a few more minutes before I decided to get up and out. I needed to get away from this house so I would not cry a river or, worse, turn up all the bottles of liquor.

  I went upstairs to change into a cool, flowing floor-length sundress. I had taken a long shower at the spa, so I went in my bathroom and sprayed on an ample amount of my favorite perfume, Alien. I took the brush and brushed my hair into a ponytail, then dusted some blush on my cheeks and some M•A•C gold dust on the areas of my chest that were exposed. Satisfied with my look, I grabbed my Versace purse and went back downstairs to get in my car.

  Not sure which restaurant I would end up at, I opened my sunroof and was on my way. I found myself on I-85, heading north toward downtown. I was in the mood for some good seafood, and Legal’s crab soup was calling my name. I pulled my Versace sunglasses from my purse, put them on, and leaned my seat back a little to enjoy the ride. With each mile, I felt a little better. I turned my audio system on, and the sounds of Anthony Hamilton came blaring through the speakers. By far, he was my most favorite neo-soul artist, and I settled into a peaceful state. His voice was the perfect blend of sultry and soothing—just what I needed.

  I looked at the clock, and it was just after seven. The traffic was mild and moving right along. Just as I was approaching International Boulevard, which was the exit I took to go to Legal Sea Foods, I changed my mind and decided that what I wanted was a piece of cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory. I took the Peachtree Street exit and headed that way.

  I drove into the parking lot of the Cheesecake Factory, got my ticket from the valet, and went inside. I could hardly wait to order a glass of Moscato. Any relaxing methods available to me tonight would be taken full advantage of.

  I gave the hostess my name and took a seat in front of the cheesecake display case. My mouth began to water as I took in all the delicacies. Looking at the various cheesecakes made me want to skip dinner and go right to dessert.

  Finally, my name was called, and I was escorted to a table on the patio. I was relieved to be dining outside. Fresh air was good for anyone who was perplexed in any way about anything. The light, crisp air was refreshing as it kissed my face. The hostess sat me down at a table near the road, which was perfect because I always enjoyed people watching and had the ideal seat for it.

  The server came and took my order, and before long I was feasting on my favorite dish—the Chicken Madeira. I was well aware that after I digested it, it was going to spread evenly between my thighs and my butt. Even knowing that, I took bite after bite until it was halfway gone. By the time I ordered dessert, my body was screaming and begging for me to stop. I had stretched my stomach to its limit, but there was nothing better than comfort food for the comfortless.

  As I left the restaurant and got back in my car, the thought of going home to my problems rushed to my mind. The bliss I had felt while dining was now seeping away through the crack in my car window.

  The last place I wanted to go was home.

  The last place I was going to go was home.

  I took a left on West Paces Ferry Road and drove into the driveway of my next destination.

  “Good evening, ma’am. Will you be staying overnight with us?” the valet attendant asked.

  “As a matter of fact, I will,” I replied.

  “Enjoy your stay with us.”

  “I plan to,” I said, passing him a twenty-dollar bill.

  With no overnight bag and a newfound confidence to take a huge risk, I made my way to the hotel’s elevator. Once it opened, I stepped inside and pushed the button for the twelfth floor.

  Surprisingly, I was anything but nervous as the elevator went from floor to floor. Once it stopped, I got off and took the journey to the room.

  His room.

  Room number 1213.

  Watching him sign that check earlier at the bar had proven to be a good thing, I thought as I stood outside of Seth’s door, knocking.

  No answer.

  I knocked again.

  Just as I surmised that maybe he had gone out for the evening, and turned to walk away, he opened the door.

  “Allyson?” He leaned his head out and peeked around the corner. “I cannot believe you came here. You’re not worried if someone sees you? Wait a second. Are you okay?”

  “I will be just fine if you let me come in.”

  He moved out of the way, and with the two steps it took me to enter his room, I stepped into the land of no return.

  The game was about to change.

  It had already changed.

  Chapter Twelve

  My eyes flung open.

  The sound of my phone buzzing woke me from the most peaceful sleep I’d had in a long time.

  Wait a minute. Where am I?

  I sat straight up in the bed, only to realize that I was in Seth’s hotel room. I glanced at the digital clock sitting on the nightstand next to me and discovered it was well after three o’clock in the morning. I pushed my hair away from my face and picked up my phone.

  Ten missed calls, three voice mails, and fifteen text messages. All of them were from Byran except two. They were from my mother.

  I decided to read the text messages first.

  Message #1:

  Babe, I have been trying to reach you. I am starting to get worried. I understand that you are upset, but please at least reach out to let me know that you are okay. Not sure you want to know, but the baby is here and he’s a little fighter. Get at me.

  Message #2:

  Allyson, I have called you five more times since that last text message.WTH is going on? I don’t want to assume the worst, so please hit me up to let me know you are good.

  Message #3:

  This is selfish. Why would you have me worry like this? All you have to do is simply respond by saying you are all right. This is childish,Ally.

  The other messages were similar—more rants. He had some nerve to be making demands of me. He needed to concentrate on his other family and leave me alone. I was right where I wanted to be, just as he was. But knowing him the way I did, he would soon have people out looking for me. I sent back a simple message.

  Byran, I am fine. Glad your baby is hanging on. Prayers are with you. . . .

  I put the phone back on the nightstand and looked over at Seth’s side of the bed. He was not there. My heart dropped. Had he left me here?

  I pushed the covers back and got out of the bed. The bathroom light was off, so I knew he was not in there. I opened the door that led from the bedroom to the living room and found the same thing.
... The lights were out.

  I walked over to the lamp, but before I could turn it on, I could see Seth’s silhouette in a chair next to the window. A hint of the moonlight was shining on just a corner of his face.

  “Allyson, your phone has been going off all night,” he said.

  “Yeah, it woke me up a few minutes ago,” I replied as I took a seat on the couch.

  “Your husband?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sure he must be worried sick about you.”

  “I sent him a text just now and told him I was fine.”

  “So, Allyson, what’s the deal? You were very vague when you got here. Don’t get me wrong. I am glad you came, but I have been wondering what took place that led you here. It is obvious something happened, because you cried yourself to sleep. What did he do?”

  I honestly did not know how to explain such a ridiculous situation to anyone outside of my mother. She understood my reasoning behind being with Byran, but no one else would. I also wasn’t sure how much I could trust Seth with my innermost feelings and thoughts.

  “Do we have to talk about this right now? It’s almost four A.M. I just want to go back to bed.”

  “You cannot run forever, darling. You have to face your feelings, your doubts, as well as your fears. It is only when you face them that you can begin healing.”

  “Whatever you say, Dr. Phil,” I joked.

  “Do you know why I did not sleep with you tonight, when you got here?”

  I was hoping that we would not have to talk about that, either. I had felt rejection in a major way when he refused my advances.

  “No, I don’t. Why?”

  “When I make love to you, Allyson, it will be because you want to, not because you are hurt. Seeing a woman cry does not make me feel good. Having sex with you tonight would have made me just like the men you are probably accustomed to. I am of a different breed. I could easily sex and cake you, but I’m not. You will be my woman when I do either. I respect you, and while I would love to do nothing more than lay you down on the very couch you are sitting on, kiss you, and remind you of places on your own body that you have probably forgotten existed or did not know existed, I can’t.