The Eternal Engagement

by Mary B. Morrison

  Whatever decision she made, either way, her life would never be the same.

  Cheating Is Never the Real Reason for a Breakup

  Let me say that no relationship breakup is because of cheating. Irreconcilable differences are the primary reasons relationships—marriages included—end. Far too often breakups are bitter and backstabbing. In most instances, your irreconcilable differences are preexisting. Basically, we all have baggage.

  Whether you’ve never been monogamous, you’re a pathological liar, you’re a user, you have self-esteem issues, you’re sexually inhibited, you’re bisexual, you’re insecure, you’ve been abused, you’re abusive and have anger management problems, or whatever your flaws are, it’s a fact that most people harbor these detrimental toxins within them long before meeting their mate.

  You’re not honest enough or brave enough to tell your potential partner the truth about yourself. You don’t dump your baggage in the middle of the floor. Your life is not an open book, and in some cases you won’t even crack the spine on your own life story. You suppress your emotions. Yet you sit at the table with a long list of expectations for your partner, who is more than likely sitting on their book of lies to boost their own ego.

  Now you have two people pretending they’re in love when in fact neither of you know what love is. What you become is emotionally codependent. You need someone to care about you, so you say, “I love you,” expecting them to regurgitate the same. If they don’t, you’d rather they lie to make you feel better about yourself?

  Stop lying to yourself. Covering up your truth is the demise of your relationship. People want others to accept them for who they are, but most people aren’t who they claim to be.

  If you know someone has lied to you, don’t ignore the lie. Yes, it’s imperative to forgive, but don’t be a fool about it. Yes, everybody plays the fool sometimes, but don’t marry the fool thinking they’re going to change. Accept people for who they are. But the only way you can honestly do that is to keep it 100 with who you are.

  Marriage does not entitle you to control your spouse. You have no right to tell an adult what they can or cannot do. You reserve that right in your parent–child relationship. But please don’t have children outside of your marriage and complicate things for the child. If the child was born prior to marriage, that’s great. But after you say, “I do,” please don’t get caught up. That’s inconsiderate and selfish.

  Speaking of selfish, this is the real reason people cheat.

  You meet someone. They look, feel, and smell good to you. They flirt. You flirt back. Maybe your partner /spouse doesn’t make you feel this way anymore.

  You subscribe to “eating ain’t cheating” or what “he/she doesn’t know won’t hurt ’em.” Maybe your spouse has stopped sexing you for any number of reasons, to punish you, or they’re too tired, they’ve lost their libido and don’t know how to get it back, or they’ve lost interest in having sex . . . with you.

  Whatever the reason, now you feel justified in cheating.

  So you hook up with someone. You make a conscious effort. You take off your clothes. You lie down with the other person. You may not have the decency to make sure protection is used. You take the risk. You either penetrate or allow yourself to be penetrated by someone you may barely know. Or perhaps it’s an old flame that you fan until you explode with sexual pleasure.

  But let’s say your partner is smarter than you. They find out about your affair. You’re confronted. What now?

  They say to you, “How can I ever trust you again?” I’d like to say you’ve broken your trust with that person, but the fact is you’ve never had trust in your dysfunctional relationship. Deception isn’t trust. Thus, the constant confrontation begins. You try to justify your actions. The anger comes out. You blame the other person. Tears of pain stream down your partner’s face. You apologize.

  Yet you do it again. Why?

  Because you’re a selfish liar. You lie with a straight face. Perhaps you straighten up for a moment, but when the opportunity presents itself again, then what? You do it again. You’re not man or woman enough to accept who you are, so you lie about what you think the other person wants you to be because you don’t want them to leave you. You. My point exactly.... You are selfish and inconsiderate.

  Now, it’s a fact that everybody doesn’t cheat. Some people are committed to their relationship irrespective of their challenges. Problem is, opposites do attract, and seldom do two of a kind meet.

  Then there’s the concern of growing apart. I’d rather look at it as growing together, because when you meet someone you’re not honestly on the same page. Oh, sure, it appears that way. Why? Because you gravitate to what you have in common. You highlight your likes. You don’t discuss your dislikes. You think you’re a match made in heaven.

  Perhaps. But if you’re in tears before the ink dries on the marriage certificate, consider your relationship a match made on earth, maybe in hell if that’s what you allow the other person to put you through. Fire.

  As time goes on, what happens when the thing you loved the most about the person is the same shit you can’t stand about them later? For example, you start out saying, “Oh, my baby is so smart.” You end up saying, “You know what, I can’t stand your smart ass.”

  In parting, I say to you, “Take ownership of who you are and you’ll have a better relationship. Don’t use others for your personal gain and gratification. And equally as important, don’t let anyone, I mean anyone, use you.”

  Better to be a smart-ass than to be a dumb-ass.

  Family, Friends, & Fans From My Heart to Yours

  January 1, 2011, 12:22 a.m.

  As we ring in the New Year, I’m not at a festive event. I’m not at a gala or a club. I’m sitting at home with my son and his girlfriend, Emaan.

  My son, as 2010 ends, kneels in our living room and prays. I watch him. As the New Year rolls in, he kneels at my bed (which is in our living room) and he prays again. I watch him.

  The three of us watch the fireworks at the Water-bar’s waterfront in San Francisco exploding on television. We are in awe. I think, man-made. It’s drizzling outside our ceiling-to-floor window. The rain is God-made. We briefly stand in the window, and we see the fireworks shooting in the air in Oakland.

  My son and girlfriend retreat to his bedroom. I sit alone, yet not lonely. I open up my heart. I give thanks for my guardian angels. I wonder what my dad’s childhood was like. I wonder why he was physically so close but yet emotionally so far from all of his children. What happened to him?

  I wonder what my mom endured. Why the things in this world made her feel she was better off dead. Then I reflected on the moments (as a child) when I believed I was better off dead. The two moments that are most vivid are the times when my great-aunt had my younger brother make a noose. She hung it from a tree in our backyard at 2118 Second Street in New Orleans. The noose was for me.

  She put it around my neck and choked me until I couldn’t breathe. I cannot, even in this moment, recall why. What did I do as a little girl that was so awful that made her threaten to take my life away? Tears streamed down my face, but I’m not sad. I have too much to be grateful for to be sad.

  Then there was the time when all of my friends put together their money, bought cookies, punch, and chips. They did this to celebrate my birthday, September 17, but I can’t remember the year. I do vividly remember that everyone was there except me.

  My great-aunt wouldn’t let me go. So I stood in the door at 2118 Second Street, and I could see my friends across the street celebrating my day. They taught me that the party should go on with or without the guest of honor. I was missed, but they had a great time. I felt honored that day even though I wasn’t there. Knowing how much my friends cared made me feel loved.

  I then began to give thanks for my great-aunt, for I know not her struggle. But I do know that it takes a hellava woman to rear not one but four children that weren’t hers.

  I thanked my mot
her and father, for I know they watch over me all the time. One by one, I visualize their faces and I give thanks. I’m not sad in this moment. When I visualize my dad, my glass that sat in front of me on my coffee table, filled with Godiva chocolate, Baileys Irish Cream, and one ice cube, chimed one time. That moment reminded me of when Whoopi said in The Color Purple, “God’s here.”

  I opened my eyes. I gave thanks to my dad for acknowledging his presence. I know he’s with me always; my guardian angels are with me always.

  I wouldn’t change a thing. God made my life, my struggles, this way for a reason. As I bring this note to an end, I realize that I am most grateful for three things: my family, my friends, and my fans. I hold each of you in my heart because your presence reminds me of what is most important in life—people.

  I am not alone. You are not alone. Whatever your journey, remember, every road traveled leads to higher ground. And no matter how difficult your journey, always navigate with faith.

  And so it is, this note ends on January 1, 2011, at 1:07 a.m.

  And You Know What It’s Like to Love

  Sparkles in your eyes gleam from your soul.

  Your fingers dance in their hair.

  Your touch rejuvenates the spirit.

  You sit in silence and your silence speaks

  volumes.

  And you know what it’s like to love.

  A favorite thing remembered.

  You freely give your all.

  You reminisce with a smile.

  A helping hand extended.

  And you know what it’s like to love.

  Your light shines bright.

  You put yourself last.

  It is more blessed to give than to receive.

  You’re taught this and you believe.

  You give so much.

  You cannot conceive.

  You know what it’s like to love.

  But do you know what it’s like to be loved.

  DON’T MISS

  Mary B. Morrison’s If I Can’t Have You series

  If I Can’t Have You

  What really makes a man plunge headlong into obsession? And what does he do once he’s past the point of no return? Find out in this seductive, mesmerizing tale of “love” gone dangerously wrong.

  I’d Rather Be With You

  With Madison’s marriage on the rocks, Loretta couldn’t resist looking after Chicago’s interests and reigniting his passion for life. But now Madison wants to take back what’s no longer hers . . .

  If You Don’t Know Me

  The scandalous story of two women, a sizzling wager, and the fallout that’s turned lives upside down. Now, with the only man they’ve ever wanted at stake, who will go one step too far to claim him?

  Available wherever books and ebooks are sold

  Turn the page for excerpts from

  If You Don’t Know Me . . .

  CHAPTER 1

  Sindy

  “When he walks in, you’ll walk out.”

  “Are you sure?” Nyle asked me after the prison guard closed the door to our private glass-enclosed room.

  We sat facing each other. The chill from the stainless steel chair made me sit on the edge of my seat. The rectangular-shaped metal table was cold enough to keep my favorite butter pecan ice cream from melting. Three feet of space separated us.

  I stared into his crystal-blue eyes as I said, “Help me get Granville Washington back behind bars and you’ll be discharged the same day he’s booked. The remaining two-and-a-half of your three-year sentence will be dismissed. You’ll be on a one-year probation with an officer that you’ll meet face-to-face one time. After that you’ll check in over the phone. A few people owe me favors. If you complete the assignment to my satisfaction, your early release is guaranteed.”

  Nyle sighed heavily. His neatly arched brows drew close together. His eyes darted to the left. He blinked. When he opened his eyes, they were intensely on me. Instantly, I became motionless.

  “I’ve already done what you’ve asked of me.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Not exactly my ass.” Veins protruded from his neck. His voice escalated in anger. “The outcome isn’t what either of us anticipated but I did my part. Now you want me to do you another favor? Fuck the money you paid me. I want out of here today.”

  That wasn’t happening. When we left this room, I was going home; he was headed back to his cell. I did not influence him to commit a crime. That was his choice. Helping him get out was mine.

  “What if what you want now isn’t what you expect later? Then what? You walk away and leave me to do all of my time?”

  Precisely. In my mind, I nodded, but didn’t move my head. He had nothing to lose. I did. I needed him to calm down so he could focus on what was important to me.

  I softened my tone. “Fair enough. Regardless of what happens this time, I’ll keep my word.” Not sure if I were lying, I extended my hand and shook his. I had to tell Nyle what he needed to hear.

  Getting men to do whatever I wanted—with the exception of my father—that was my strength. Loving another woman’s husband was my weakness.

  Better for me to pursue the man I wanted than to allow my dad to arrange for my husband the way he’d done with Siara. I missed her. Skype was nice but I hadn’t seen my sister in person in twelve years. Her being sold by our father wasn’t my fault but she didn’t feel the same. Occasionally, she still says, “You are my big sister. You were supposed to protect me.” I think our father or her husband told her not to come back to America and not to let me visit her in Paris. I wasn’t sure how or when but one day we would reunite.

  Trust your gut instincts. That was how I lived. My word used to be a firm commitment. Since I was a little girl, when Sindy Singleton made a promise, I kept it. Truth or lie, right or wrong, my love for Roosevelt “Chicago” Dubois was gradually overruling my senses. Lately I’d been doing what was in my best interest. When things didn’t go my way, I didn’t hesitate to change my mind.

  This morning I’d smoothed back my long straight cinnamon hair and coiled it into a bun that sat at the nape of my neck. My cream-colored pants, which I only wore when I visited the Federal Detention Center, were loosely fitted. A simple short-sleeved matching blouse draped my hips. Comfortable leather flats clung to my feet. No lipstick. No perfume. No jewelry. My purse was in the trunk of my Bentley that I’d parked in a downtown lot a block away. My keys were secured in one of the small lockers in the lobby. My Texas driver’s license was left with the guard at the security entrance.

  Sitting in a room reserved for attorney/client visits, I was the attorney. Nyle Carter was my protégé. I needed this inmate’s help the same as he desperately desired mine.

  “Let me get this straight. I have to find a way to bring Granville back to prison before you’ll get me out of here?” he lamented.

  Peering through the glass door, I scanned the visitors’ room. There was a handful of folks who had come to see what I called “the mentally ill and prayed up.” Prison made grown men ask the Lord, Buddha, Allah, Jehovah, or whatever higher power they believed in to set them free. Forgiveness wasn’t practical for repeat offenders. I wished repentance wasn’t an option for them either.

  A lot of the criminals I represented were guilty but the majority of them had raised their right hand and sworn on the Bible that they were innocent. I was paid to defend, not to judge. Ultimately, that was God’s job.

  Nyle had pleaded the Fifth on his charges and still had to do time. He’d become known to those on the inside as G-double-A. Some youngster by the name of No Chainz had given Nyle the name saying it meant “Got All the Answers.” I wished that were true for me. I wouldn’t be sitting in this cold room trying to convince a man to entrap another man so that I could be with the man I loved.

  “I said you were to make sure he never got out.”

  Nyle remained quiet.

  On a scale from one to ten, Nyle was handsome above average. Put a suit on him the way h
e used to dress prior to getting locked up and no one would believe he was forty years old when he was arrested. Not that there was a better age to be charged but with his thick blond curly hair and smooth pale skin he could easily pass for thirty.

  “I paid you twenty thousand to give Granville advice that would get him convicted with two consecutive life sentences.”

  He slid his hand from his forehead to the nape of his neck. No response.

  Nyle could benefit from a daily dose of natural vitamin D. The inmates didn’t get much sunlight. Everything was indoors, including the gym. The few windows they had were high above the basketball court. Nyle deserved to be here but didn’t belong. There were some people you never envisioned behind bars. Others you knew it wasn’t if they were going to do time. It was when and for how long?

  “Why did the judge overturn the jury’s decision?” I asked.

  Getting myself this involved, I could risk being disbarred and losing Roosevelt if he thought I was part of the conspiracy to kill him. I was undoubtedly determined to have that man.

  Secretly, I was attracted to Roosevelt well before we’d met. A schoolgirl crush, more like college, was what I had. We didn’t go to the same university but I’d gone to his football games. Unlike some of the other players, Roosevelt never had a bunch of groupies tailing him. For me it was one of those situations where I liked him, but never thought we’d meet. After his engagement was announced on the news and he married Madison, I’d given up on my fantasy of being with him until his brother came to my office one day for business. Chaz suggested Numbiya and I stop by Eddie V’s. Roosevelt was there. Instantly, we hit it off. Initially, I wasn’t, then I was, then I wasn’t saving my virginity for him but now that I knew him better, I’d decided Roosevelt—not the billionaire who had paid my father for my hand in marriage—was the one.