If Only For One Night

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  “So does gas.”

  Even I had to chuckle at that.

  “Well, all I can tell you is that you can't have a wife and a soulmate.”

  “That’s what you say.”

  “Nah, bruh. I know there are guys out there who can carry that off, but that’s not you.”

  I shook my head. Lamar had misunderstood my response, but I didn’t correct him. I wanted to know — why couldn’t your wife be your soulmate? Isn’t that the way life was supposed to be? “Yeah, I’m not that dude,” I responded to Lamar.

  “Look man, I’d love to keep playing your psychologist, but since you ain’t payin’ me, I got my own life and my own wife and she’s beginning to give me the stinky-eye because of all the time I’m spending on the phone with you.”

  I laughed. “Go take care of your wife. Catch you later.” I clicked off the phone. At least I was smiling, though I was no closer to knowing what to do.

  Just as I was about to put my cell down, my phone vibrated from an incoming text:

  Can you talk?

  I breathed in deeply. Angelique. Ready. To talk.

  It took me a moment to reply:

  Not right now. In a little while?

  She replied: I'm at my girlfriend's. U think u can drop by tonight?

  At her girlfriend’s? What the hell? Was she staying there or was she just hanging out? Had something happened with her husband?

  My stomach tightened when I glanced at my watch. It was almost six. I replied:

  Can we do it around 6:30/7?

  Cool. Here’s Sheryl’s address.

  Sheryl. Her friend from the gala. What was going on?

  I wanted to ask her so badly, but this couldn’t be a text conversation. That fact didn’t stop the questions in my mind — was she staying at Sheryl’s? Had something happened with her husband? What were the implications of that?

  Opening the Words With Friends app, I pulled up Angelique’s profile and the moment I looked at her picture, my heart contracted. Like she was squeezing it, a reminder that she touched me in the very center of my being.

  “Everything okay?”

  I jumped and my phone crashed to the floor. I hadn’t heard the patio door open and when I glanced up, Monica was standing right there. Looking over my shoulder. How long had she been there? Had she been reading my texts? Seen Angelique’s picture?

  Nah, she couldn’t have been there that long.

  As I picked up the phone, she said, “You seem nervous.”

  “I’m not; you just startled me.” I stood and smiled. “I didn’t hear you come downstairs.” I glanced at Monica dressed in jeans and a white tailored shirt. She’d been dressed when I came home after the basketball game last night, too. “You look nice,” I said.

  She nodded. “I was thinking…I would come downstairs.”

  Such a simple statement that I knew had taken so much effort.

  She said, “I ordered pizza…for dinner.”

  “That’s good,” I told her. It wasn’t cooking, but it was a start since the kid’s dinner had become my responsibility.

  “I know it’s only pizza. Maybe tomorrow…I can cook.”

  I smiled. “That would be great, sweetheart. You up to that?”

  She nodded, though her tone sounded unsure. “Maybe if you can help me.”

  “I’d love to do that. We can cook together, just like we used, too.”

  Now she smiled, though hers looked a bit forced. Still I accepted it. “How was your day?”

  I could not remember the last time she’d asked me that, and though the question sounded like it had come from a robot, I still responded, “Oh, it was good. What about you?”

  “It was good…better.”

  “Are the kids upstairs?”

  She nodded. “Raven is, Tanner is still at school.”

  My eyebrows raised. I knew that, but she knew that Tanner was still at school? She hadn’t paid attention to the children’s schedules in so long.

  She glanced back at the house, looking as if she wanted to run back inside. “Can you pick up the pizza?”

  “I sure can,” I told her. “I’ll pick it up, then drop it off. I need to…run by the office…for something.”

  She gave me a long look as if, she didn’t believe me. But then, a moment later, she nodded and smiled again. “Okay. Well, I’m going…back inside…upstairs.” She turned toward the door, then paused, took the few steps back to me, stood on her toes and kissed my cheek.

  It was a quick peck before she scurried away, as if she weren’t sure about what she’d just done.

  I stood there for a moment. And finally smiled. Monica was unsure, but that was all right. Because I was sure enough. For both of us.

  * * * * *

  I edged my car to the curb in front of the address that Angelique had given to me, then sent her a text:

  I’m outside.

  Anticipation had me shaking. It was because of all of the thoughts in my head. On the drive over, I relived every moment of Saturday with Angelique, and then, the moment I just shared with Monica.

  Let me hold you tight, if only for one night….

  When Angelique stepped out of the townhouse, my heart did that squeezing, quickening thing again. But this time, it didn’t make me smile. As she walked toward me in jeans and a white shirt (just like how Monica had been dressed) in my mind, I saw her — naked, giving herself to me.

  And I sighed.

  She opened the door to the Mustang and the moment she slid inside, I wondered if I should have driven my Tahoe.

  “Hi,” we said together.

  I won’t tell a soul….

  I clicked off the music.

  After a moment of silence, Angelique leaned over and kissed my cheek. That surprised me a bit, it was so open, such a public display…and it felt, so awkward.

  Then, “How are you?” we spoke together.

  I guessed she felt as awkward as I did.

  We studied each other inside more silence. She was the first to ask, “Is everything okay?”

  That was supposed to be my question. I nodded. “What about with you?”

  She sighed. “I’m staying here with Sheryl.”

  I sucked in a lot of air. “Did you and Preston…break up?”

  She was silent and very still for a moment. “No…not yet…I mean, I’m not sure.”

  I didn’t have enough nerve to ask the next question, but from somewhere deep, the words came out. “What happened?”

  “He found out…about us.”

  I wished I’d never asked. “You told him?”

  It must have been the incredulity in my voice that made her eyebrows raise. Patience was peppered all through her tone when she said, “I’m not going to go into the whole thing, but I told him because I had to. He saw us.”

  My eyes widened and I wondered if I had the right to ask anything else. I wanted to know more.

  She said, “He saw us enter the hotel and he never saw you leave.”

  Now, I nodded. A clearer picture in my head. “I’m really sorry, Angelique.”

  She tilted her head. “About what? About what happened or about Preston finding out?”

  My answer came quick because I wanted her to know the truth about my feelings. “I never wanted to hurt anyone. Never wanted to hurt you or your husband or my wife. But….”

  “But Saturday was special for us,” she finished for me.

  I nodded.

  “To be honest, I don’t regret it either. I regret hurting Preston, but…not you and me.”

  I breathed, grateful for her words. “So, what do you think is going to happen? I mean, you’re going to try to get back with him, right? You’re not going to walk away from him?”

  I thought my words were simple, but the way she stiffened, I could tell that I’d offended her, somehow.

  She squinted, though it was more of a frown. “Our connection, on Saturday and even before then has been special to me. It’s been real, something I never
felt before, but I would never just up and leave my husband…you’re married,” she said as if she thought I needed a reminder.

  I exhaled relief. “I know.” I took her hand and looked down at the way we fit. “We’re married to other people, yet so connected to each other.”

  “We’re married, yet we’ve both said things….”

  She left it there and I had no idea where she was going. She paused as if she were thinking. And then, she said, “I wish….”

  And, I remembered. What I said Saturday: I wish that you were mine.

  It took a moment, but then I responded with what she’d told me on Saturday. “I wish, too.”

  She looked down and away from me, but she nodded as if she understood. She nodded as if she’d asked the question and I’d answered. Without a spoken word, she nodded. Because we were that connected. Soulmates. But I would never tell her that. Didn’t want to complicate our hearts even more.

  With my fingertips, I outlined the line of her jaw and we sighed together. Then, I guided her chin until she looked at me. A mist covered her eyes and I was surprised that I was able to see it through the mist that covered mine.

  “I just want you to know that I’ve never felt this way about another woman.”

  “I know.”

  My hand cupped her cheek and my palm heated. “And, I’m so grateful that I met you.”

  “I know.”

  This time, I was the one to say, “I wish….”

  “I know.” She blinked and a tear trickled down her cheek. Still she smiled, receiving my message.

  And then, she gave me her message. She leaned across the console and kissed me. She kissed me the way we kissed Saturday. That night, our bodies said hello, but there was no doubt that this was our goodbye.

  When she leaned back, the tear that fell came from my eye and I swiped it away.

  Now, she cupped my cheek. “Thank you, Blu Logan.”

  I nodded because I was afraid if I spoke, another tear would fall and what kind of man would I be? Damn — this woman had me out here in the middle of the street with the top down on my car, crying. I needed to buck up quick.

  But I was gonna have to wait until she was gone. Because my eyes were still misty as she opened the door, slipped out, then did that little saunter up to her friend’s front door that made me sigh and made me wish some more.

  I wanted to shout out to her. Tell her to call me if she needed me. Because I didn’t want her to feel like she was alone. I wanted to help her through this, whether she got back with Preston or not.

  But telling her that, keeping our connection would only delay the inevitable. Would only hurt our hearts. Because I loved Monica, I loved my wife. And I was going to do whatever I could to put us back together and help her get well.

  So, I had to say goodbye to Angelique. And just be grateful for this moment in time. Just be grateful for that one night.

  Even after Angelique stepped inside her friend’s home, I sat there for a moment watching the door. Thinking how simple this finale had been and if it were so simple, why was my heart so heavy?

  I sighed, grateful this was over, then turned over the ignition. The Mustang roared and I wondered if I would ever want to drive this car again?

  Glancing to my left, my eyes first hit my rear view mirror. And then, I looked up.

  And saw the silver Infiniti across the street and the woman behind the wheel, staring at me.

  The woman. My wife.

  “Monica,” I whispered her name.

  Even from where I sat, I could see the water in her eyes.

  “Damn.”

  I slammed the car into ‘park’ and jumped out, leaving the Mustang running. “Monica!”

  I watched her shift her gears, and then with tears streaming down her cheeks, she screeched away.

  CHAPTER 25

  Blu

  Yesterday — six o’ clock. Today — it was almost three. I counted the hours the way I’d been doing. Twenty-one hours. It had been twenty-one hours since I’d seen my wife.

  And all I’d been doing in those hours was looking for her. I hadn’t gone into work, I hadn’t eaten, definitely hadn’t slept. All I’d done was put on a facade for our children who didn’t notice that Monica was gone at all.

  But while I’d kept their life as normal as I could, I’d searched for my wife, calling every friend, driving by any place where I thought she might be.

  And I called her phone…one hundred times. No, a thousand. More than that, thousands of times. I called her until I filled up her voicemail, apologizing, begging, telling her on every message, “I love you!”

  But, she never answered.

  The only thing that saved me — the text that she’d sent about an hour after she’d sped away from me:

  I need time.

  Her text was the only reason why I hadn’t called the cops, though I wondered if I should have because of Monica’s illness. Wouldn’t that make her a priority with the police? I decided not to make that emergency call. That had been my decision last night. But if we got to twenty-four hours…..

  My phone rang and I grabbed it from the passenger seat. But the picture that popped up on my screen, let me know it wasn’t Monica.

  Still, I answered, “What’s up, Lamar?”

  “Just checking on you. Any word from Monica?”

  My best friend had been the first one I called and last night, he’d hit the streets with me. “Nah, just that one text. I’m going out of my mind with worry.”

  “I know you are, bruh, but she’ll be home. I know it. She’s just hurt.”

  Shaking my head, I said, “I can’t believe this.”

  “I know, but in your defense, you were breaking it off with Angelique when she caught you.”

  If he were trying to be my attorney, he would’ve lost the case. He hadn’t convinced me because I was guilty. What hurt the most was I had no idea of my offense. I had no idea how long Monica had been there, watching us. Had she seen the way I’d touched Angelique? Had she seen the way Angelique had kissed me?

  Those memories made me groan. No matter how long she’d been there, she’d seen enough, seen too much. Enough, too much to make her speed away and stay away from me.

  “So what you doing now?” Lamar asked.

  “Still driving around. I’ve been checking every single hotel for Monica’s car.”

  “How long you been out?”

  “Just about all day. I gotta get back soon, though. The kids will be home and I don’t….”

  My phone beeped.

  Monica!

  I didn’t even say goodbye to Lamar, I just clicked over.

  “Oh, my God, Monica,” I hyperventilated into my phone. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.”

  “Why?” was all she asked.

  I wasn’t sure what she was asking. Was she asking why I was sorry? Or why had I been with Angelique? Either way, I wasn’t sure how to answer. What was the best approach? What would keep her safe, make her feel better, let her know how much I truly loved her?

  I had no answers, so all I said was, “Baby, come home. Let’s just talk.”

  “Do you love her?”

  Even though I was driving, I closed my eyes for a second. “No, I don’t.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  I frowned. For the first time, I noticed. Monica sounded groggy, like she was just waking up. Had she gone somewhere and just slept all day? “No, really, Monica. I love you.”

  Her voice was soft. “I saw you with her. I saw how you were together. You love her.”

  I shook my head, wishing to God that she could see me. Wishing to God that she were here so she could see the truth. “No, I don’t.”

  “I wondered. I kept wondering. You didn’t want to make love to me. Then, you called me by her name….”

  “No….”

  “Then, it was your phone. You were always on your phone. And you came home later…or not at all. I knew. That’s why I followed you.”

 
Oh my God! I thought Monica spent her days in bed, not thinking, not caring, not paying any kind of attention. But she saw, she knew.

  “I knew, I just wanted to make sure. I had to see it for myself in order to get my heart to believe it.”

  Her voice was so soft, but still I could hear it — her hurt. And her hurt made me ache. “Please come home. I was out trying to find you, but I’ll go home and wait for you and we can talk about this.”

  “I’m already at home,” she said. “I wanted to come home for this. Goodbye, Blu.”

  She clicked off the phone, but still, I called her name. Tossing my phone onto the passenger’s seat once again, I made a sharp U-turn, made the wheels of my Tahoe scream.

  Monica was home and I needed to get there.

  But, oh, my God. The way she sounded. Had I sent her into a deep depression forever?

  “God, I hope not,” I whispered.

  And then, I prayed. I prayed and I called. Over and over. She never answered, but I kept calling.

  I drove as if there were no traffic lights, no traffic signs, no speed limit. I drove until I was home, making that twenty minute drive in a little over ten. I breathed when I saw Monica’s car in the driveway.

  I jumped out of the car, and it wasn’t until I hit the front door that I wondered if I’d turned off the ignition. But I didn’t return to check. I just slammed through the door.

  “Monica,” I screamed as soon as I made it inside the house. When she didn’t answer, I called her again and again, even as I took the stairs two at a time, even as I raced through the hall, to our bedroom.

  The first thing I saw was Monica rolled up in the bed. I exhaled, until I rushed to her and saw her eyes. Open, but rolled back.

  “Monica!” I shook her shoulders. “Baby, please.” I lifted her into my arms, and then I stopped. Six bottles of pills lined up on her nightstand. “Oh, baby,” I moaned.

  “Dad?”

  I glanced up at the sound of my son’s voice and took in the sight of my children, just coming home from school. It was a curse that they were coming in now. It was a blessing that they’d come home together, something that only happened on Thursdays.

  Still, the sight of them made me moan as I laid my wife on the floor.

  To Tanner, I cried, “Son, get your sister out of here and call nine-one-one.”