“Why would I want to waste my time, Denise?”
“Because you haven’t gotten over me. You’d take me back this very moment if I let you. I’ll let that rest for tonight. I promised Sylvia that I was going to be on my best behavior.”
Sylvia sighed. “Why don’t we get started, Marvin.”
Marvin cleared his throat. “We’re going to get started everyone.” He carefully avoided Denise’s eyes while Mona busied herself picking up empty plates and cups. Everyone assembled on the couch and chairs as before, except that Denise sat in one of the private chairs with her legs crossed.
“I’ve got a wonderful peach cobbler for afterward,” Mona said, giving Marvin the thumbs-up.
“Before we get started,” Marvin began, “we have two people who have just joined us. Please welcome Anika Matthews and Denise Thomas.”
Everyone clapped except Rachel, who sat in the middle of the group with her legs crossed—the crossed leg swinging defiantly. The newcomers raised their hands in acknowledgment, and the room fell silent.
Sylvia moved to the front.
“Today we have a special visitor to our group. We heard a little bit from her earlier, and she will now come in her own way. Margo Myles lives in Fayetteville, North Carolina, and is the sister of my pastor, Pastor Goodwin. She is in town visiting family, and we appreciate her being with us today. Margo Myles.”
The group clapped again.
Margo rose from her seat and moved to the center of the group. She surveyed each one in the room.
“I want to thank Sylvia for inviting me to your meeting this afternoon. It’s a wonderful thing to have someone you can talk to, lean on and get comfort from when you have been through what might seem to be the worst battle of your life.
“I was told that you all were divorced—some much longer than others—and that this group has been a saving grace for most of you.”
“I don’t know why I’m here,” Mona said for the umpteenth time, waving her hand for attention as she took her seat with the others.
“Okay, Mona, this isn’t for you. As I said earlier, I’m married…still married by the grace of God. My husband, Jefferson, and I were married for twenty-five years before he decided he wanted to test the sugar water elsewhere. His infidelity rocked a neighborhood, a town and friendships.
“My husband decided that all that he had was not enough. We enjoyed the good life—a house in the ’burbs, expensive vacations, whatever we wanted after taking care of what we needed. Jefferson also owned a collection of vintage automobiles. Anyway, he began to steal money from his clients to purchase stolen guns from a military base to resell to some rebels in Latin America. The money Jefferson made from the sale of those weapons was so good he couldn’t stop. But it nearly cost him his life.
“My husband has served two years of a twenty-year sentence. The judicial system may be kind and reduce his sentence after he’s served at least five years. He’s due for a parole hearing in three years.
“I was also handed down a sentence—a twenty-year sentence that sent me to solitary confinement. I was without a man for the first time in years. I decided to wait for my husband. I know some of you are thinking ‘she’s crazy’ or ‘I would have divorced him.’ Jefferson and I were more than an ordinary husband and wife, we were a team who conquered the universe together, had four wonderful children and threw caution to the wind. Now when I try to throw caution somewhere, it seems to come back to me like a message in a bottle to remind me of all the heartaches I went through behind my husband’s infidelity.
“When you come to a crossroad in your life, whether you’re contemplating divorce, just received your separation papers or had a pronouncement that your marriage is over, it is okay to cry. Go in a corner if you have to and get it out of your system. Take off by yourself to places unknown. Just have the pity party, but when thirty days have passed, get up from wherever you are, take a good look around you and declare your freedom if that’s what you need to do. Otherwise, say I’m going to do what it takes to make my marriage work. I’m going to see a counselor, therapist or whatever your wallet can afford. But get up and do something about your situation.
“I invested twenty-five years in my marriage, and I was not going to let my husband or the scum who lived next door or anyone else move me out of my house…my rightful place. Yeah, I was mad as hell at Jefferson, but there was still good in that man. I’ve been with him long enough to recognize that in him. My husband and I reconciled while he was in the hospital after his horrible accident, and I made a promise…a vow that I would be there for him. And I’m going to honor it.
“I’d just like to leave this thought with you. No matter what your circumstances are, be true to yourself. If you don’t have a relationship with God, try Him. God has not failed me through all that I’ve gone through. Know that you can overcome your hurt, pain and disappointment. We’ve seen a testament to that today with Claudette and Tyrone. Sylvia, you’ve done a great service to the members of your group. While I’m not an expert, I hope that my testimony will help you move forward and not backward. Thank you.”
Everyone stood on their feet and clapped, clapped, clapped. Anika moved forward and placed her arms around Margo’s neck and hugged her tight, while tears fell from her eyes. One by one the others joined Anika, and before long, there wasn’t a dry eye in the place as hands swiped at faces trying to hold back the flow of tears, except Denise who sat and watched with interest, her legs still crossed.
Sylvia sniffed and asked everyone to give Margo another handclap. A minute passed, and everyone settled down.
“Margo, thank you for those words of encouragement. I believe that sometimes we wallow in our grief because we hope that someone somewhere might save us. Today, your words may have saved someone. Thank you, again.”
Ashley stood on her feet. “I’ve made my decision. I’m moving on without William. Baby or no baby, I no longer want to be afraid of what William might do if things don’t turn out the way he wants them to. I’m Ashley Jordan, and I’m taking my life back. Thank you, Margo.” Everyone clapped. “I’ll need everyone’s support because I’m not sure about where I’m going, and there’s no turning back.”
“You’ve got our support,” Sylvia sang.
“Yes,” the rest of the group said in chorus.”
And without fanfare, Denise rose from her seat.
“May I say something?”
Rachel looked at Marvin. Sylvia looked at Rachel, then Marvin.
“Ummmmmm,” Mona said louder than she had planned.
“Sure,” Sylvia said hesitantly, giving Denise the “do not cross the line or I’ll toss you out with my bare hands” look.
Denise moved to the middle of the room with no pep in her step. She looked at the group that was assembled in front of her and rocked her head left to right. Eyes shifted, with everyone wondering what this woman who said she was Marvin’s ex-wife wanted to say.
“I’m not sure where to begin, so I’ll pick a spot,” Denise began.
Rachel sat tall in her seat, balling her hands, then releasing them. She glanced at Marvin, who was scooting around in his seat like his pants were on fire, unable to sit still for more than a minute. Rachel grabbed Marvin’s hand and threaded her fingers in his, and they formed a united fist.
“As most of you know, I’m Marvin’s ex-wife, Denise. I met Marvin when he came to New York on a business trip. He seemed so kind and gentle.”
Rachel squirmed in her seat.
“It wasn’t long before we began dating, although by long distance, but we had enough chemistry to keep our love alive. When Marvin asked me to marry him six months later, you would have thought that we were the only two people left on earth.”
Marvin squirmed in his seat and gave Rachel’s hand a tight squeeze.
“Marvin and I kissed like we lost our minds right in front of the Times Square marquee. Remember, Marvin?”
Marvin looked in Denise’s direction, and Rachel stood
and marched to the back of the room with a scowl on her face.
“We could not get enough of each other. That was the moment I understood what people meant when they said they had sex without taking their clothes off. But believe you me, we had lots of sex later that night.”
The room was deathly silent. No one dared to look at anyone else until Rachel marched back to the front of the room and stood in front of Denise with her hands on her hips.
“I’m getting to the point,” Denise said, dismissing Rachel with a mere twist of words. Rachel scowled at Denise but went to her seat next to Marvin.
“I was an unfaithful wife.”
Loud murmuring floated through the room like a tidal wave while Denise’s words crashed down on them like heavy steel. Faces turned toward Marvin, no doubt feeling sorry for the place he was now in. No one tried to stop Denise as she moved on withher Ex-Files.
“You can’t be surprised,” Denise said matter-of-factly. “I’m sure Marvin has shared the sordid details of our life.”
Eyes stared straight ahead. Denise looked at the stoic faces and shut her eyes, contemplating her next thought. She wrinkled her lips and let out a sigh.
“I did some terrible things to Marvin that he didn’t deserve. This man gave me everything, and I’m not just talking about the materialistic. He gave me his heart and his soul, and I took advantage of it. Don’t think I’m trying to solicit your sympathy because I’m not. I betrayed the best thing I ever had, and now I’m paying for it.”
Sylvia scowled and looked in Rachel’s direction. Marvin sighed, but held Rachel’s hand even tighter. Claudette moved closer to Tyrone with a placid look on her face. Mona had boredom written all over her body. Ashley watched Denise intently as if she were analyzing her every word and movement, and Margo sat stiffly in her seat.
“Out of all the things my husband did for me,” Denise continued, “he only asked one thing of me. Marvin wanted children. And yes, I had promised to give them to him, but it was a lie. No baby was going to disfigure my body; I had an image to uphold.
“I saw so much potential in this brother who was skyrocketing his way up to the Fortune 500 club. Marvin knew what he wanted, and unlike most brothers, he had everything going for him to achieve success. And I needed him to help me be successful.
“When he made me his wife, he lavished me with a fine home—take a peek on your way out. Marvin may even give you a tour.” Denise would not look in Marvin’s direction.
“He gave me the whole world, but I gave nothing in return but a heartache. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but I feel like I need to unleash this burden. Guilt is partly to blame, and before God and these witnesses, I’d like for your forgiveness, Marvin.”
Marvin made a move to get up.
“I’m not finished. When I came back into Atlanta a few weeks ago, it was for my own selfish reasons. I needed Marvin, but what a surprise I found. My husband…who adored the life out of me…had moved on. It was so uncharacteristic of the Marvin I had come to know and love that it threw me for a loop. Seeing him with Rachel in that restaurant disturbed me greatly.
“But this is really not about me and Marvin. I have something else to share. I’m not ashamed to say that in a moment of desperation, I came running back to find the only person I thought could help me.” Suddenly, Denise clawed at her head.
Gasps filled the room: Denise stood holding a wig before her, revealing a nearly bald head.
“A few months ago, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I may only have a year to live. I’m in the first stages of chemotherapy.”
There were more gasps, and every woman in the room instinctively touched her breasts, as if guarding against the pronunciation of the Grim Reaper’s next victim. They looked at this woman standing before them in disbelief.
“I don’t want your pity, just your love.” Large tears welled up in Denise’s eyes that she tried to control. “I know I should have stayed in New York where I have lots and lots of family, but when it came down to it, my ex-husband was the family I needed.”
Marvin rose from his seat, pulling Rachel with him. He stood in front of Denise and looked into her pained eyes.
“We will be here for you,” Marvin said to Denise. “Rachel and I will be here for you.” Marvin pulled a resistant Rachel closer. Denise sobbed openly.
Sylvia St. James
The front door shook and squealed on its hinges. Sylvia hadn’t realized how hard she’d closed it until her body vibrated. She kicked off her five-inch heels as she marched through the living room on her way to her bedroom, dropping her keys and purse on the living room table.
Sylvia sighed. Month after month of helping others find their way to a new and healthy life and believing what she told others was the way to get beyond an unhealthy divorce was something she now questioned. Did she really believe? How could she help others when she wasn’t sure what she wanted herself? It seemed to make sense when the idea had come to her in the beginning, but now…Adonis still kept floating back in her subconscious in the middle of the night or at the breakfast table while she nibbled on a bagel saturated with strawberry cream cheese, his favorite. “Damn him to hell.”
This afternoon was another matter—one too complicated for Sylvia’s fragile heart. Who would have thought that an ex-wife would barge her way into a meeting that was going oh-so-right with testimonies and tell the world that she might have a year to live. It was not what Sylvia envisioned. She wanted healing for the hurt…the pain that Adonis caused her, but it seemed she had to wait in line because everyone else’s pain was much greater than hers.
She peeled off her slacks and caught a glimpse of herself in the floor-length mirror. She turned from side to side, admiring what she saw. She was still attractive, even though a slight bit healthier. She blew the mirror a kiss, and her reflection tossed back her round hips as they sashayed around the room.
“I need to get out of this funk.” Sylvia sighed and flipped on the radio.
“It’s the top of the hour. This is WJZZ-FM, your Hot-Hotlanta jazz radio station. Don’t turn the dial. We’ll be right back after the news with the soulful sounds of Will Downing and my girl, Jill Scott,” the announcer promised.
Sylvia pulled off her cotton blouse and tossed it on the bed. Not sure what to do next, she plopped down on the edge of the bed and extended her arms back to prop up her body, then looked up at the ceiling.
“God, why do I feel so empty? You have to help me. It’s been almost a year, and I can’t let it go. I say I’m over Adonis, but these meetings are causing me to want him more than I’m afraid to admit. Lord, You’ve got to help me. I don’t want a man who doesn’t want me—a man who has gone on with his life with another woman.
“I went out with…I’ve been with…uhhh…Kenny.”
Sylvia sat up straight. How could she talk to God about Kenny? It was an out-of-the-way fling with an old flame. Kenny, Kenny, Kenny. It was nice to have someone’s arms wrapped around her.
Rising from the bed, Sylvia walked the few steps to the small table next to the chaise that held the picture she and Kenny took a few weeks ago at a formal gathering Mona gave and catered at an exclusive Atlanta nightclub. She picked up the picture and gazed at the couple with the wide smiles. “Humph, he does look good. And he smelled good, too.”
Falling onto the chaise, Sylvia hugged the picture to her breasts and closed her eyes.
“I was just thinking about you,”Sylvia sang seductively, then realized that Jill Scott was singing along with her.
She looked at the photo and ran her fingers over Kenny’s face.“You just running across my mind, you just running across my mind, you just running across my mind,” she and Jill sang.
Visions of dancing with Kenny crept into Sylvia’s head. She scooted farther down on the chaise, bending one leg at the knee, and closed her eyes. She felt Kenny’s hands circle her waist and Karl Lagerfeld seep through his pores as he inched his face closer to hers. They lost themselves in th
e melody—the slow, syrupy rhythm that beckoned for them to become one. Oh, but she came alive when his lips touched hers, and she reciprocated like she was Cinderella and the clock was only minutes from striking twelve.
She let Jill continue to sing as she lay there and reminisced.
She recalled the moment Kenny handed her the key to his room, and she stared at the palm of her hand as if an unidentified foreign object had just landed. There was a twinkle in his eyes—she was sure it was lust—but suddenly she was game for whatever. She tried to play hard to get but followed the man into his hotel room. Her heart needed a massage, so she’d let an old friend do the honors. That was the first time, and there was a second, although nothing happened either time. She was having serious feelings for this man.
“How amazing,”Jill sang. And Sylvia ran her hand down the length of her body, over her breasts and down her thighs.“And kiss this and this and this and this, and that,” Jill and Sylvia sang together.
Tears began to well up in Sylvia’s eyes. She looked once more at the picture she clutched in her hand, studying it for a long moment. Brushing a tear away from her face, she placed the photo on the table, facedown.
“Lord, forgive me of my sinful thoughts. I know You will give me the strength to get through this mini-depression. Lord, will You be my lover tonight?”
Ding, dong.
“Hold on, I’m coming,” Sylvia shouted. She grabbed her white-and-black polka-dotted robe off the hook on the bathroom door, slipped it on and headed for the front door. She combed her hair with her fingers and tied the belt around her waist. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she shouted again as the pounding on the door became louder.
“Girl, are you going to let me come in or what?” Rachel said when Sylvia got the door open.
“Of course,” Sylvia said as Rachel pushed past her.
Rachel’s jaw dropped as she tripped over one of Sylvia’s shoes. “Uhhh, what happened up in here? Shoes all over the place, papers strewn across the floor and no car outside. Was this a drive-thru? I smell impatience all up in here. And why do you have your robe on, looking like one of the 101 Dalmatians? It’s only been an hour since we left the meeting. You got somebody up in here?”
Ex-Terminator Life After Marriage Page 19
