My Secrets Your Lies

by N'Tyse

  I gazed it, looked up at the man, who was hoping to make a sale, and said, “I’ll take it.”

  Sand, what are you about to do? I stood there thinking, contemplating the damage one little bullet could do.

  Rene

  I jumped when I heard the door screech. Vincent peeked inside the small office, where I had been on the computer. I was still on the Internet, looking up some things. I tried to be as quiet as possible.

  “Rene, I have some errands to run. Are you going to be here when I get back?”

  I minimized the screen that showed all the sex positions that could increase my chances of conception and quickly brought up the screen with the baby beds and car seats. I turned around to face Vincent. “Yeah, honey, I’ll be here. I’m all yours now.”

  He gave me a devilish grin and walked out the door, then shut it like it had been before he entered. I could hear the garage door opening and him reversing the car. Then I heard nothing. He was gone.

  I pulled the first screen back up and started taking notes on the yellow notepad I had found underneath the computer. After I was satisfied with all the information I had gathered, I signed off and went into the living room. It was about twelve in the afternoon. I picked up the remote and switched the television station to channel four and was terrified at the disturbing images that appeared on the screen. Network 4’s Brian Cage was reporting live at the scene of a crime.

  “Yes, folks, this is by far the most horrific crime committed here in this neighborhood. Investigators are trying to piece together this bazaar attack that occurred here in this Fort Worth townhome. Here with us is Laura Shelton, a neighbor of the young victim, whose body was discovered only hours ago. Ma’am, do you mind telling us what you witnessed here today?”

  The elderly woman seemed to be shaken up by everything. She placed her hand over her chest and started describing the way she had found the victim. “She was gone. I smelled this awful smell all the way into my house. I went over to check on Jasmine, but I didn’t see nobody. The door was halfway open, so I let myself on through. I went to the back, and I saw her there . . . dead. She was gone.” She began to get choked up. “Wasn’t nothing I could do for her,” she said, crying. “Poor child. She was only nineteen.”

  The camera went back to the reporter, who was talking and pointing in the direction of the crime scene. Yellow tape was all around the place, blocking off the spectators, who were as curious to know what had happened as I was. Some of them even had their babies wrapped in their arms. Younger children were running around, all trying to get on live television. You could see two men walking out of the house, carrying the dead body in a black body bag. People were screaming and hollering. I was not sure if they were screaming because they knew the young lady or if they were screaming because of the sight of the body bag.

  “As you can see, this has affected the community greatly. We’ll keep you updated as we learn more. Keep it tuned to Network Four. Back to you, Shannon.”

  That was crazy. I recognized those townhomes. They were about thirty minutes away from where my apartment was. Wait a minute. I didn’t live there anymore. That was now Sand’s place. I had my new home, and it was here with Vincent.

  I straightened the living area and washed the few dishes that were left in the sink. Vincent was no housekeeper; that was for sure. I took in a great amount of air and sighed at the thought of what I had to look forward to in the near future. After straightening and cleaning, I decided to check on Shun and see if she had heard about what had happened over in the Emerald Terrace Townhomes.

  “Hey, Jo Jo. Let me talk to your mama.”

  “Hey, Aunt Rene. She not here.”

  “Well, tell her that I called, and to call me back at my new place. She knows the number.”

  “All right.”

  As I hung up the phone, I felt great about myself. I felt that I had a burden totally removed from my shoulders. I was rid of Sand, and now things could be the way they were supposed to be.

  I removed my belongings from the bag that I had brought in with me earlier. I folded my things neatly and placed them to the side, to be put in a drawer as soon as I could free up some space. I had also brought my stash along. Yes, my new best friends were gonna have to join me in my new place of residence. I couldn’t leave them alone to be forgotten about. Nah, I just couldn’t do that. That would be so cruel of me. I had given each one of them nicknames. I had the porno, which I now called Tease, and the vibrator, which I had given the name Rock Me. I placed Tease and Rock Me in the hall closet, on the top shelf. I was feeling the wifey thing already, and I hadn’t even said, “I do,” or jumped across the straw broom. I knew I was making the right decision; I just wished I had made it a lot sooner.

  I’d been saving for this day for as long as I could remember. I had close to ten thousand dollars in the bank now. I had been saving up ever since the first paycheck I received from Johnson and Johnson. Sand had paid all the bills, so my checks had been basically all mine. On top of that, she had broken me off daily. I was no dumb broad. I had stacked my money for a rainy day, and that day was here. I would use most of it to give me a head start in my new life.

  Vincent had said he had errands to run. That would give me enough time to shower, start dinner, and iron his clothes for the workweek to come. Yes, I could definitely do this. I started dinner first. I whipped up some pot roast, scalloped potatoes, green beans, and dinner rolls. I made some fresh squeezed lemonade and baked some homemade brownies for dessert.

  When that was all finished, I hopped in the shower. I lathered my body up real nice and good, making sure to focus on those spots that I was going to steer Vincent to tonight. Unlike Sand, he had a problem eating pussy. I had never said anything to him about it, because I didn’t want him to think that was all I was about. But tonight was the night that I would allow him to devour my sweetness. I was sweeter than maple syrup and as appetizing as a delicacy.

  I switched the water temperature from warm to cool. Just thinking about the things I wanted Vincent to do and the way I wanted him to do them made me get moist between my legs. I slid my fingers down to see if the moisture was coming from the cool water that flowed down my spine to my ass or if it was my own self-made juices. It as indeed from me. I lowered my hand, brushed it swiftly up my inner thigh. Ooh, that sent a nice little tingle through me. I did it again. I received the same reaction. I had found what I believed to be the hot spot. I halted when I reached my split. I removed the detachable showerhead, which could also be used as a massager, to finish off what I had started.

  My pussy lips were throbbing now more than before, and I was turned on by my own sexual explorations. I held the running showerhead in my left hand, freeing my right hand to participate in other exploratory studies. My right hand swept across my left breast and then across my right. I used it to bring my right nipple up to my lips. I used my tongue as a weapon that forced my nipples to surrender. They both were at full attention and longing for something long, big, and hard to glide over them. I closed my eyes to see if I could paint a vivid picture of Vincent fucking me, having it his way. I could not. The only picture I could paint was of me and Sand, and then of the white girl and the white boy who had hard-core sex in Tease. I couldn’t even envision Vincent doing anything out of the ordinary, anything other than the missionary position he and I had assumed when I came over to visit. I hoped like hell that that was not all I had to look forward to in our marriage.

  I kept my eyes closed, and even though I couldn’t recall a time when Vincent and I had fucked each other’s hearts out, I was gonna make believe that he had. I spread my legs open even more for Vincent, who was now below me, feasting in my love bowl. I let out a loud moan as the tip of his tongue did jumping jacks on my clit. I squeezed my ass cheeks together, because the tension was so strong that I was bound to explode. After his acrobatic mouth was finished there, he started up the center of my left thigh. He worked his way up until he was at my navel. I flung my head ba
ck and allowed my hair to tickle my shoulders and spine, adding to our foreplay.

  His left hand massaged my right breast and his right hand gripped my left nipple as he bounced back and forth between the two like he was being breast-fed. I moaned louder and louder into his ear, turning him on more and more with every single sound. He stared into my eyes and moaned, “Rene, I love you.”

  Hearing those words made me tremble, and he once again proceeded to go back down South. I gyrated my hips and screamed louder and louder. “Fuck me, Vincent! Fuck me!” He waited until I couldn’t take any more. I begged and begged for mercy. He knew exactly what it was that he was doing. I had no doubt about that. He pulled down his briefs and inserted his shaft. He pounded it until I had climaxed around the head of his dick several times.

  The water had turned colder, and the showerhead, which I was still holding, was hurting my wrist from all the water pressure coming through. My legs were propped up in a funky position against the shower tile. My heart was racing, and I was trying to catch my breath in between. Damn. I couldn’t believe that little thing could be used as such a tool. I placed it back on its piece and stepped out of the shower like nothing had happened at all.

  I was enjoying spending time with myself lately. I knew what Rene wanted, what Rene needed. I knew that nobody could take my sexual appetite head-on like I could. I knew what turned me on and what turned me off. I knew how I liked to be licked and made love to. I wiped my body dry with a heavy white bath towel and then rubbed myself with body oil. The hazelnut scent and the vanilla extract made me smell as good as I felt. I blow-dried my hair and threw it in a ponytail that was slanting toward my left side. After that, I put on a thin nightie and waited for Vincent to return home. I looked at the grandfather clock. It was now 5:15 p.m. Dinner was ready to be eaten, and so was I.

  Damn, Vincent. Where are you?

  The telephone started ringing, and I damn near leaped over the couch in hopes of catching the call before it went to voice mail, praying it was my man. It was Shun.

  “Hey, girl,” I said.

  “Damn. You sounding all happy. What’s gotten into you?”

  “Well, my new place, my new life, uh, and my new man.”

  She started laughing. “I see. Now, don’t tell me I have to deal with this happy-go-lucky attitude when you come around me, making me feel all sad ’cause I ain’t got a man. You know everybody ain’t able.”

  I laughed. “I won’t.”

  Rene

  I could hear the garage door opening. Vincent had finally made it home. I hurried to turn off all the lights in the house. I had already made our plates and sat them on the dining table. I lit the two candles that I had standing parallel to each other. The dinner table was set. Vincent was coming in through the kitchen. I greeted him at the doorway.

  “Hey, honey. You’re back.” I reached my arms around him, trying to steal me a kiss.

  “Hey, babe.”

  “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Yeah. I can’t wait to see what you’ve cooked up.” He smiled.

  I led him through the kitchen and into the dining room. I pulled out his chair, and he sat. I spread a cloth napkin over his lap, doing it the way he did when we went to a restaurant. He smiled up at me. I could see myself loving this man for the rest of my life. I took a seat. The candlelight bounced off his forehead as well as mine. There we sat, across from each other, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. I bowed my head to say grace.

  “Amen.”

  We both picked up our forks, and his attention was still on me.

  “So, what have you been doing since I’ve been gone?” I watched the way he used his knife to blindly separate the tender pieces of meat.

  “Nothing. The usual woman stuff.”

  “The usual woman stuff? And what would that be?”

  “I did a little shopping, cooked, cleaned, showered, and sat here in the dark, waiting for you to come home.”

  “Oh.” He chewed a piece of meat and swallowed. “Delicious, Rene. Who taught you how to cook like this?”

  I smiled, blushing a little. I had never told Vincent about me being raised in a foster home. All he knew was that I had been left with my grandmother and had been with her ever since.

  “My grandma taught me,” I lied. There I go again. Dishing out lie after lie, like it is a natural thing for me.

  “Your grandmother taught you?” he repeated. “She surely knew what she was doing.” I wished like hell that he would change the subject, if only for a minute. I hated having to lie to Vincent, but I had to in order to save my ass and my future. “You know what? It’s been so selfish of me not to ask you this, but when do I get to meet that fine grandma of yours?”

  I hurried and stuck a piece of roast in my mouth, then took my time to chew. I held up my index finger, as if to say, “Just one minute. Let me chew this first.” He was still watching me, smiling and looking as good as could be. I tried to think of something real quick. I needed something to pop up in my brain. I thought about telling him she had passed away after he left, but I realized that would be so obviously stupid. The first thing he would think would be, Your grandmother passed away, and you’re sitting here, chowing down on some pot roast and potatoes? I tossed that idea out the window. I couldn’t think fast enough, so I did what I had seen some girl do on TV. I bit down on my tongue hard until my eyes watered. Then I grabbed my neck and started pointing to the kitchen.

  “Water . . . water . . . ,” I tried to say between gasps. I stood up, coughing and choking, trying to put on the best performance I could.

  He rushed into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and rushed back with a bottle of Ozarka spring water. He tried to pat me on my back and help me cough up whatever it was that he thought was lodged in my throat. I spit out the piece of meat I had been chewing, and it landed on the floor, next to his foot.

  “Thank you, honey!” I exclaimed.

  “Are you all right?” He waited for me to catch my breath before I could talk again. I let out another cough for good measure. I grabbed the white napkin lying next to my plate and spit out the left-behind meat with a glob of saliva.

  “I’m fine now, honey. Thank you.”

  He walked back over to his plate, removed it from the table, headed into the kitchen, and set the plate on the kitchen counter to be washed. I hoped that I hadn’t spoiled his appetite, but from the looks of it, I had. I blew the candles out and switched on the lights.

  “Let me go wash myself up,” I said, embarrassed as hell.

  I excused myself and went into the bathroom. You’re pathetic, Rene. Damn pathetic. I brushed my teeth and gargled with the minty-tasting mouthwash that Vincent had on the counter. I looked in the mirror. It was ridiculous that I was going to such extremes not to be found out. A part of me wanted to just come clean about the grandma, Sand, and even about the baby. Acceptance and accountability were what I needed to embrace. It was hard trying to come up with a damn lie and excuse for every little thing. Lie after lie after lie. I almost couldn’t keep up myself. I had told so many damn lies that I was turning blue in the damn face. And not telling Vincent about the baby was so beneath me. It was actually wrong as hell. He had never done anything to hurt me, and yet I was intentionally keeping things from him that would kill him if he found out. He would hate me for the rest of his life.

  I stared at the confused woman in the mirror. I had to come clean. I hit the switch to turn off the lights and prepared myself for whatever it was that was due me. I deserved whatever my punishment would be. I felt ashamed, but I had to do what I knew was right. Acceptance and accountability, I repeated over and over.

  There I stood, as ready as I could be to tell my fiancé, my future husband, that I was a phony. I was going to admit to him that everything he thought he knew about me was a complete lie. I bit down on my bottom lip and closed my eyes to brace myself for his reaction. I walked out of the bathroom and into the den. Vincent was flipping through channels, hopin
g to find something good on television to watch.

  “Vincent, I need to talk to you.” He looked up at me and then down again at the television. “Honey, I really need to talk to you.” I walked over toward him, trying to grab his attention. I wanted no distractions, so I boldly stepped in front of the forty-two-inch-wide screen.

  “Rene, what are you doing? I’m trying to watch this.” He pointed the remote at the television, boosted the volume so he could still hear what he could partially see. I remained in my position, refusing to move.

  “Vincent,” I said in such a low, guilty tone. “I have something I need to tell you.” I decided to start with the baby. “Vincent, I . . . I . . . lost the bbbbaa . . .” I struggled to say what it was that I had to say. The words were somehow caught in my throat.

  “Rene!” he yelled.

  I jumped.

  “Babe, I can’t see through you.” He was trying to watch some damn baseball game, and I was trying to tell him that I had lost our child.

  “I need to talk to you, Vincent.” I was damn near pleading with him. The look on my face was evident. I needed to say this while I still had the strength and the courage to do so. He swayed his head in different directions, trying to watch television through me, as if he had some sort of X-ray vision. He wasn’t successful. “Fuck it,” I said, hoping he didn’t hear me.

  I headed for the bedroom, plopped down on the king-size mattress, and allowed my mind to wander off. I thought about how my life was so miserably perplexing. I didn’t know if I was gay, bisexual, or straight. All I knew was that I was looking for change but wasn’t sure if I could just forget about my past that quickly and with such ease. As hard as I had tried to put Sand in the back of my mind, she still existed, and erasing her from my memory was not possible. I had fooled myself into thinking that her having someone else in her life would make me hate her and never, ever want to see her again. It had done just the opposite. Instead of wishing she got ran over by an 18-wheeler or, better yet, struck by lightning, I was hoping she would forgive me and take me back.