The only connections that I still had from my previous life before becoming The Mrs. Wilson were Rhonda and Gladys. I rarely even visited my family anymore, because my mother didn’t like the hold that he had on me. When my mother didn’t like someone, it was a given that the rest of the family would despise them, as well.
Without mother’s approval, no one made it in or out of the family. That was the way it was, until I defied that unspoken rule by marrying Titus anyway, against her better judgment. Despite mother’s bipolar illness, she still had the presence of mind to know that Titus would put me through more than she was willing to sit back and watch as a bystander.
When my father suffered a heart attack four years ago, mother was distraught, and as a result, she became even more persistent that I could do better for myself. She didn’t want to see stress eat me alive as it had done Daddy for years while he worked to provide for our family.
It took me a while to realize that I was staring into the glass mirror hanging on our kitchen wall. It revealed a reflection that I wasn’t prepared to see.
Mama is always right, I could hear her vivid words playing out in my mind. The image before me forced me to put more stock in the meaning of the words. My petite frame was devoid of the beautiful spirit that once dwelled within it. My eyes were cold and unreadable. My lips were pouty, pale, and puffy. My hair, though healthy and glowing from the best care that money could buy, was still disheveled. The pretty caramel skin that covered my flawless face was flushed red from anguish. Not only did Titus stop loving me. I had stopped loving myself.
Thank God that I had Rhonda’s shoulder to cry on. She listened to me. There were no judgments passed. She was there any time I needed her, lending me her time and support unselfishly, as she had consistently done the entire six years of my marriage.
One thing that was not debatable was that my husband needed a wakeup call – something to get him to recognize that ‘home is where the heart is’, and home was where he was supposed to be. Luther said it best, a house is not a home if there’s no one living there. Titus barely came home long enough to take a piss, much less make this place into a home.
As you can probably tell by now, the streets helped make good on Titus’ promise to be the first one in his family to make it out of the hood. Oh, he made it alright, straight to the top of the line bossing. How did he make it? Let’s just say that he dabbled on the wrong side of the law in pharmaceuticals. Titus, along with his second-in-command, Street Justice, ran the drug operations in practically every hood in east Alabama.
The same streets that keep generations of his family’s spirits broken and in despair would be the same streets that catapulted him to his millionaire status. Once the money started piling up and we were able to live out every dream that we had ever dreamed together, he forgot about me and started running rampant in the streets with Lord-Knows-Who doing Lord-Knows-What. It seemed to have slipped his mind that it was me that had stood by his side when it was all just a pipe dream. Recovering from my trip down memory lane, I was snapped back into the ever so palpable present by Rhonda frantically calling my name.
“Shayla, are you still there? Shay-la!”
“I’m here,” I assured her, twirling my finger around the mouth of my glass.
“Are you going to be okay over there, honey? You’re about to make me put on some clothes, and come over there.”
“You don’t have to come over. I will be all right. Just thinking about how different things would be if my husband….” I stopped mid-sentence because I could not say the words. I could not bring myself to think the thought that my husband didn’t love me anymore. I heard Rhonda sigh with relief as if my tone had assured her that I would be okay alone. I, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure.
“If your husband what? You know Titus loves you to death,” Rhonda said begrudgingly.
God knows I loves me some Ronnie, but she has always felt that I should appreciate what Titus does for me more, even though he was never around long enough to give me something to appreciate. I wished that we could three-way in my other sister-from-another-mother, Gladys, because she would be more sensitive to my situation right now. Even though I desperately wanted to talk to her, I was happy for Gladys, because she had found the nerve to runaway for the weekend to Miami, leaving her husband and kids in town. I could only imagine that James, her husband, was losing his mind right about now. I smiled thinking of how brave she was to take off like that.
After receiving an invitation to a masquerade party from her old college buddy, Brenda Jackson, Gladys skipped town without a second thought – leaving her two beautiful children with their up-to-no-good father to fend for themselves. She was my shero for making that move. If only I had the nerve to do something for and about me for once.
At that precise moment, I would have loved to be able to get her pearls of wisdom about my situation, but I smiled with a glimmer of joy, knowing that she was taking the time out to do something just for her. The thought crossed my mind to bust up her vacation with my problems by calling her on three-way anyhow, but then I decided against it. I won’t interrupt her getaway with my issues.
It wasn’t like I had anything new to tell her. Just the same ole, same ole ‘Titus is a runaway’ story.
Gladys’ words rang in my ear as if she were speaking them to me live, “Love it or leave it, honey, but if you love him and want to stay, make sure the situation works out in your best interest.” In other words, if she could be on the phone right now, my girl would be telling me to stash away more cash and find a pretty young thing on the side for some ass.
Gladys’ theory on me staying with Titus was to “get it how I lived.” Meaning, take what he has to offer but make it work for me. Time and time again, she told me to dust myself off and try again, saying, “There are plenty pretty young things out there with plenty love potions to turn that frown upside down, chica,” she would say in her signature way.
On the other hand, in direct contrast to Gladys’s mostly sophisticated businesswoman persona, Rhonda was the ‘realest chick’ you could ever know. Even though she never lived in or near the streets, she was attracted to the street life and thugs. When we were in high school, she lived on the good side of town, yet would always find her way to the Sloan Mill projects. She wanted to hang out with my cousins, and whatever other knuckle heads that were holding down the block, all night until early morning.
All I could do was pray for my girl back then, because if it was some ole’ wannabe gangster stuff that she thought she was getting into, then she was game.
One thing that hadn’t changed after all of these years was that I trusted both of my girls with my life. I knew that no matter what, they always had my best interest at heart in any situation. We had been through a lot together. Since I was no longer really close to my mother or sisters, our friendship was paramount. I would soon learn that ‘trust’ is also the root word of ‘distrust’, and distrust opens up the door to a world of secrets, deceit and mayhem.
Chapter 4
Shayla
As I continued to vent about Mr. MIA on the phone with my best friend, I could hear Rhonda brushing her fingernails up against her nail file. I’d known her long enough to know her habits. She either rolled her hair between her fingers or filed her fingernails when she was in deep thought or trying to help me figure out my mess, so I knew that she was thinking hard. She was just as stressed out as I was.
As far back as I could remember, no matter what Titus did, she had never spoken a bad word about him. She liked his ‘rough around the edges’ style and the bank that he brought in. The fact that he was from the streets was a plus in her book. I knew that his ability to take care of me was something that she admired. She didn’t have to worry about her girl in that respect. Just like she loved me, she loved Titus like a brother, so I knew she wanted to see our marriage survive. That was just how real of a friend she was, wanting the best for me, even though she didn’t have the same in her life.
"Ronnie, love, I guess we did all of this for nothing," I told her, feeling hurt and ashamed, and it showed in my voice. I looked longingly out of the sliding glass doors to the intimately decorated backyard and Jacuzzi area of my two-story Victorian lakeside home, positioned on some of the most prime real estate in Pine Mountains. Ronnie and I had spent hours shopping and preparing the backyard earlier that day. I thanked God for her, because most of the decorations came at her suggestion. The sight was a bit too much for me to digest at that moment, so I turned back around and looked at my gorgeous kitchen to try to get some relief.
Immediately, unwanted memories of my fifth wedding anniversary rushed upon me. Last year, the week before my anniversary, Ronnie and I took a vacation in Maui – just us girls. Upon returning home, I was pleasantly surprised to walk into my house and be welcomed by Titus holding a blindfold.
My husband held me tightly around the waist and led me into my new completely renovated kitchen. Everything was redone with French style décor, including the best stainless steel appliances.
Not believing that this luxurious kitchen could possibly be mine, I walked around turning on the oven and other gadgets. I was so filled with joy that my soft and sentimental butt cried for the next hour as I tested out my new appliances.
Titus knew that I loved to make my way around the kitchen, so the fact that he upgraded it with nothing but the best was the gift of the decade. Needless to say, we had a happy and passion-filled fifth anniversary.
What a difference a year makes.
Jarring me out of my trip down memory lane were Rhonda’s firm words. “Girl, what is the deal? You do know the man is a heavy weight in these streets and is always making major moves, right?”
Before I could answer, she continued, “You do also know he has to be out there to keep things popping like they are? So, don’t stress it when he has to be out there getting money. Shit, I wish I had a nigga like that. It’s either him making the money so that he can bring it home to you, or it can be the next bitch that gets it, because you know he ain’t about to stop making money! He’s probably just handling some business and couldn’t get to you right away, so stop this flipping out every other day.”
Rhonda loudly popped the bubble gum in her mouth, and asked her familiar, yet irritating, question, “Don't you like living on Society Shores?”
"I do, but that doesn't change the fact that I need him to behave like a husband, and treat me like I’m his wife. The way he has me up here, and how he only comes to visit every now and then is more like I’m his mistress.”
And whose side are you on? I thought, but then again, was I asking for too much? Was Rhonda right? I knew in my heart of hearts that I could be a spoiled brat when I wanted to be, but was it asking for too much to get some quality time once a week from my husband?
Dare I even say, I needed some good loving every once in a while? I longed to share a few laughs, dreams, and ideas with the man I loved. I needed him to talk to me about current events for at least thirty minutes per day, even if by phone.
As a woman with emotional, mental, and physical needs, it was a necessity that I reconnect with my husband, and soon. Either that connection had to be established, or he had to set me free. I sure as hell didn’t get married to be lonely, so to hell with a house in Society Shores!
This time I wasn’t taking Ronnie’s advice, nor was I going to ‘get it how I lived’ as my girl, Gladys, had suggested. It was time to push the envelope and let him know how I was to be treated going forward. Or I would get it how I lived another way – without him.
Taking a look around at my worldly possessions, I said in all sincerity, “All bullshit aside, Ronnie, I would give all of this up in a heartbeat if I could have him here with me right now, as caring and loving as he used to be. I’m ready to start a family, engage in long late night conversations about everything and nothing at all, spend hours staring into his eyes for no reason except that I love the glow that lives within them, and go on family trips and vacations. Sometimes when I’m alone in this big house, I can just imagine the little pitter patter of baby feet. I wish…"
I paused, unable to say the words that would cut through my ego like a knife. Glancing at the ceiling, I attempted to ward off more tears.
At that moment, I cursed the fact that I could be so sensitive and needy. What I wouldn’t give to be a hardcore chick that could not only survive, but thrive, in this environment.
"Okay! Okay!” Ronnie broke the awkward silence. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but maybe, just maybe, he’s stuck in Atlanta traffic. He went there today to pick up a gift that he had special ordered for you. You know how he likes to spoil you with extravagant gifts? Well, right now he is out picking you up something in Atlanta. Dang, you feel better?”
My heart lurched with relief. Praise God! As a smile crept slowly across my lips and my eyes grew wide with the realization that I had been wrong all along, I paused. Why would Rhonda let me go through an hour of anguish on the phone when she knew all along where my husband was?
Convincing me by the second of my husband’s faithfulness, Rhonda continued, “After all, it is your finger he put the ring on. So why don’t you just try to trust him?”
Still feeling a bit uneasy, I twirled my hair and sluggishly paced the floor.
"Really, he’s in Atlanta buying me a gift?”
“Girl, yeah, Sistah Word.”
Sistah Word was a saying we had for a statement that was the truth. In other words, what she was saying was one hundred percent.
“I know you were trying to keep the surprise, but you could have saved me a lot of grief by spoiling that one, girl. How could you allow me to wallow around whining on the phone for the last hour when you knew that my husband was out picking up a gift?! I’m beginning to think you enjoy my torment.”
Despite my unease, I had to admit that my mood brightened a bit at the mere thought that Titus was doing something special for me. Smiling, I blew my nose into the big wad of tissue I had been carrying around with me. Through a stuffy nose, I said, “You're right, though, he does spoil me, and of all the women he had to choose from, he did make me Mrs. Wilson.”
I remembered him proposing to me the day I walked across the stage to get my college diploma from Auburn University. When the dean called my name to come up and receive my well-deserved master’s degree in psychology, Titus called my name on a bullhorn. As everyone searched the audience for the source of his voice, along with me, each of his homeboys held up a fluorescent letter that spelled out the words, “MARRY ME SHAYLA”.
After reading the words, our eyes locked, and he stood there on the sidelines with the biggest, cutest grin on his handsome brown face. In his hand he held a black velvet box. All I could think about was running to him. With my heart full and my head swirling, I took the degree papers from the dean and ran over to hug the man I would be spending the rest of my life with. Once I reached him, I said, “Yes… yes… yes! I will marry you if you promise to always love, honor and respect me.”
You see, Daddy’s lessons were still embedded in me, then. I felt like the most special woman in the world when Titus looked into my eyes and said, “Woman, how could I not respect you for your beauty, intelligence, and elevating me to heights no other woman could? I love you, Shayla.” Not only had I received the first college degree in my family, but I had someone special to share my dreams with. He wrapped his arms around me and the warmth of his kiss embraced me.
The quick trip down memory lane reminded me of how much I loved that five-foot-eleven, bow-legged, muscular in all the right places, pretty brown-skinned brother. Dried tears on my cheeks cracked as a genuine smile crept up on my face. I spoke again to my sister.
“You just don’t know, girl. My body craves his touch constantly. I love that man. But the truth of the matter is that he needs to touch me soon, or I cannot and will not be responsible for what happens next!” I laughed.
I took a look around at all of our h
igh-end possessions that I couldn’t make love to, laugh at a funny joke with, or sit beside on the couch to watch a comedy show with on the flat screen TV. Also, when it was all said and done, I couldn’t get any love from the chinchilla coat or Chanel pumps when I was old and in my rocking chair.
There I was married to the biggest baller in town. He was fine and knew his way around the bedroom, if you know what I mean. Yet, of late, I couldn’t get anything to jump off between us. Trust and believe, I had tried everything to get it on and popping, too.
From the assortment of Victoria Secret lingerie, sex creams, flavored panties, and flavored body powder to the swing I had installed in the shower a few weeks ago, I had done everything in my power to set the table for a love feast. However, Mr. Wilson wasn’t available for dinner, apparently.
The whole ordeal had me completely drained. I walked through the kitchen into the den and sat on the plush leather sectional sofa. Its warmth and comfort was to be the only intimacy I’d be receiving tonight apparently. Rhonda seemed to be at a loss for words, so I said, “Girl, last week I was so horny that I thought about getting my creep on. If I didn’t have every eye in town watching me like a hawk, I swear my groove would be back by now. Not saying cheating is what I want, but a woman has needs.”
"Don’t get drastic, Shay. Please don't be thinking about cheating, and please don’t give T a hard time when he gets home, either. From experience, you know that when you stress him out he just stays away longer, which means we have to have more of these conversations. Just give him a chance to explain." Rhonda calmly spoke up in Titus’ defense.
"You always take his side. The man hasn’t so much as called me, Ronnie, and I have hit him on his cell ten times already, and guess what?”
“He didn't answer?”
“Bingo! And this is really getting old." I stretched out on my back on the buttery leather sofa, staring at the ceiling while I held the phone to my ear.
Secrets of a Kept Woman (Volume 1) Page 3
