Nappily Married

by Trisha R. Thomas

  I swung my door open. “Can I help you?”

  “Oh, I thought this was someone else’s room.” She’d ditched the little burgundy hotel jacket, wearing only a sleeveless white shirt and black trousers.

  “We switched rooms.” Indicating I knew exactly who she was looking for. I never liked people that talked with one hand on their hip as if the world depended on everything they had to say. Well, there I was, hand on hip. “He’s across the hall. Maybe you can catch him before he falls asleep.” I closed my door, locked it, and then stuck my face back to the peephole.

  The desk clerk took a step back and did an about-face, knocking on Clint’s door. I held my breath, waiting for him to answer. Clint was about to be busted. The young desk clerk knocked again and waited patiently. I, on the other hand, had run out of patience, waiting for something exciting to take place. I took my face off the door to take a break from the cold metal polishing on my forehead. The second it took to put my eye back to the peephole she was gone. Damn it. I continued to stare out the hole, thinking I’d missed the moment Clint opened the door and let her inside. If memory served me right, Clint lasted no more than ten, eight minutes. Being a bit older, I’d give him another two, three minutes tops. I waited.

  The cold draft coming underneath the door froze my toes. I gave up and climbed back into bed. I rubbed my feet together under the heavy down and tried to focus on my own business at hand, my speech, but quickly fell asleep.

  The knocking on doors and the voices out in the hallway awakened me. My eyes flew open. My first thought was the little desk clerk wasn’t giving up without a fight. I hadn’t noticed the glimmer of dawn peeking through the heavy velvet curtains. I staggered to the door looking forward to the moment when I’d feel vindicated. This is what Kandi deserved, an unfaithful man who slept with desk clerks. I pushed my face against the metal peephole. By the time my eye came into focus, I was sure I was dreaming.

  Clint stood at the open door with his boxers on, stifling a yawn. He stroked his broad dark chest and asked what was going on. What was so urgent at six in the morning? He hadn’t recognized Jake. So when the first strike reeled back and landed hard against his face, he hadn’t seen it coming. Clint fell backwards with Jake fully on top of him.

  I struggled with my door, scrambling with the safety bolt, then the chain hook, breaking free to find them wrestling inside.

  “Jake! Stop! Ohmagod!” I jumped on his back wearing nothing more than my underwear and white tank. He threw me backwards then turned to face me with rage. I’d never seen him this way. “Stop it, you’re making a mistake, Jake. Listen to me.” I touched his arm.

  He shook my touch off. “You made the mistake when you came here with him.” He pointed.

  “Calm down. This is crazy. Let me explain.” I put my hands out to protect myself, pretty sure that I was next.

  In those short moments, Clint took the opportunity to swing, hitting Jake solid in the jaw. Now it was Clint who felt my wrath. “Don’t you dare hit him! This is crazy. Listen to me, both of you.”

  For a brief moment, it seemed to work. The calm loving Jake I knew so well had reinhabited his body. He stood up holding his jaw, but within seconds, he was lunging in Clint’s direction, tackling him down. The two men struggled, knocking over lamps and shoving back furniture. I jumped on Jake’s back, pulling on his shoulders and arms, anything I could get a grip on. “Baby, please. Nothing happened.” He let go of Clint and we both tumbled backward. My head hit the corner of the bedpost and knocked the fight right out of me.

  The way Jake called out my name, I knew things didn’t look good. A thick swell of numbness quilted my thoughts. The room spun. Jake was kneeling next to me. There were two Clints on the opposite side like a pinwheel. I lay flat, wondering how this nightmare could continue even though I was wide awake. I stared up at the ceiling and saw the Sleep Gypsy who used to visit me as a child, laughing, pointing her slender finger, go to sleep now … go to sleep.

  The blackout was short-lived, though it felt like an eternity. I opened my eyes to Jake kneeling over me.

  “Don’t move her.” Clint came back with the desk lamp, the shade conveniently knocked off. He held the light over my face while he pried one eye open at a time. I tried to blink and shove his hand away. “Stay still,” he ordered.

  I lay as still as possible, knowing the tank and panties I was wearing were showing too much skin. The sizable lump in the back of my head was getting bigger by the second. “Let me up. Move.” I pushed Clint’s hand away, feeling the bile rising up through my chest. I coughed and gagged, leaving a mess on the carpet. Jake stayed right by my side. I peeked up, wanting to tell him I was sorry, so so sorry, but nothing came to my lips but more saliva. If I were sick enough, maybe he would feel sorry for me, enough to forgive me. I lay back down and closed my eyes.

  “A concussion. It’s definitely a concussion.” Clint hurried to the bathroom. He came back with a wet towel. He wrapped it around my head. “She might need stitches.”

  I already had stitches, I was thinking, right here. My hand rose to feel the healed skin above my eyebrow. No, that was months ago, after the car accident.

  Jake reached out and wiped the stream of tears moving over the bridge of my nose. Thank you, honey. Next, I felt Clint digging around the back of my head, past the mass of hair. Yeah, right there. Two men had been my longtime secret fantasy, but not like this.

  “A big lump but no cut,” Clint said, taking a hold of my hand. “V, wiggle your fingers, now your toes … good. Let’s move her up to the bed.”

  “I got her,” Jake said, scooping me up by himself then laying me gently on the bed. He was still fighting mad, anger still in his tone. He sat down next to me.

  “She’ll be fine.” Clint said from nearby. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, man. We switched rooms. Our keys got mixed … that room was nicer … so we switched.”

  Aah, good work, Clint. Don’t forget to tell him how we stood in the hallway and dropped everything from our hands just to embrace each other in a passionate kiss.

  “You know, your wife called my house?” Jake’s voice cracked. “I wouldn’t be here but for that phone call.”

  “Kandi? My wife?”

  She-whore, that’s her real name.

  “Your wife,” Jake said matter-of-factly. “How many wives do you have? She claimed to be worried about you and Venus traveling to D.C. alone. All she wanted me to know is that you guys were here, alone in a hotel.”

  “I’m sorry, man. I swear, Kandi, she’s…” Clint’s words trailed off, as if everything he knew about his wife could only be summed up to her name. “All of this is my fault. We switched rooms. It’s all my fault.”

  No. Don’t start a confessional now. No. I screamed for my brain to wake up and get it together. Lives were about to be ruined. Jake had an uncanny ability to see through bullshit. If Clint admitted to one more thing, Jake would see the entire picture in his head. The passionate kiss in the hallway. Dropping the keys and not knowing whose belonged to whom.

  I pushed myself up on my elbow and used the other arm to stroke Jake’s shoulder. He nudged my hand away.

  “I’m leaving, are you coming with me?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” Clint chimed. “She shouldn’t be moving around.”

  “Shut the hell up!”

  “Look, man, I already explained to you. This was amisunderstanding. You’re going to have to calm the hell down. She just had a head injury—moving her around isn’t advised.”

  “Good thing we have a doctor in the house.” Jake looked me in the eye. “Are you coming? I’m not asking again.”

  For a minute, it was an easy answer, a no-brainer, and then I remembered why I was there in the first place. The hospital. The closure. The health commission. Morgan Taylor. An entire staff. The babies.

  Jake stood up, found his jacket, snatched it up and walked out the door before I could say a word. It happened that quickly. Ja
ke was gone like a magic act. I swung my legs around and tried to rise up.

  “Stay still, V.”

  “I can’t. I have to go.” I stood up then sat back down, feeling the weight of a brick putting pressure on my head. I shut my eyes and wished the room would stop spinning.

  “Seriously, I don’t think you need to rush out in the icy cold, this time of morning looking for him. Let him calm down.”

  I shook my arm out of his grasp. “You don’t know a thing about loving someone enough to go after them. You never have!”

  Clint stood up and took a step back, then started gathering his things. “You stay in here. I’ll move to the other room.” He handed me his cell phone. “Call your husband.”

  A slow guttural moan leaked out of my throat. I dialed slowly, wiping my eyes and my nose, remembering only one number at a time, and still a man who spoke only Spanish answered. I hung up and tried again. Jake’s voice mail picked up. The chime signaled, and I hadn’t yet thought of what to say.

  “Jake, please don’t leave. Please. I want to go home with you. I’m so sorry, for everything.” I closed the phone and laid it down like it had spiritual powers, and if I prayed over it long and hard, my prayers would be answered.

  It rang. I quickly picked it up. “Thank heaven,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry, babe.”

  “Venus?” Kandi’s shock was followed by a shrill scream. I couldn’t make out a thing she’d said after “You bitch.” I hung it up. When Clint came back carrying my bags, I didn’t say a word about the phone call. I tossed him his phone. He scooped it up before sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “I thought you said he knew we were here together.”

  I didn’t answer him. I let my head fall into my hands.

  “It still doesn’t excuse what Kandi did. I’m sorry,” Clint said. “So now what?”

  “I have to go. I can’t stay.” The room was still spinning. I dug in the bag Clint had sat beside me and pulled out my jeans.

  “You’re going?”

  “I can’t stay.”

  “What’re you trying to do?”

  I stuck one leg in my jeans and fumbled with the other. Clint realized how pitiful I looked and started to help. He handed me my sweater and then my shoes. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea. Look at me.” He held my head and looked into one eye at a time. “You’re going to be fine.” Clint reached out and took my hand. “V, he was wrong about you. Whatever he thought you were capable of, he was wrong. And so was I.”

  I couldn’t hear the rest of what Clint had said. The words came out of his mouth mixed with apology and good wishes to start over.

  I left, hailing a cab with the sun barely peaking over the city. I was hoping Jake was at the main Reagan Airport, though there were at least three others to choose from. Regardless, I was getting on a flight and heading home. I couldn’t let him down again. I’d already done enough damage.

  Home Alone

  I arrived to an empty house. No Mya. No Trina, and no Jake.

  My cell phone rang before I could start doing the calling. It was my mother. If this were a movie, the suspense horror music would start in a low piano cord, du du da dahhhh.

  “Hi, Mom.” I held my breath.

  “I have Mya. Jake dropped her off. I didn’t ask any questions,” she said, waiting for a voluntary explanation.

  Only problem, I was as confused as she was. “I guess Trina couldn’t make it to work today.”

  “He didn’t look good. He wasn’t himself at all. What’s going on?”

  “I … well … he may be a little mad at me.”

  “Lord,” she said, calling to the highest power. “What’d you do?”

  “Mom. Okay, it’s kind of a long story, and I’m so tired. Can I just hop in the shower then call you back when I can think straight?”

  “No.”

  I sat down and started recalling the last disastrous few months, starting all the way back to feeling bored and needing an outlet. The hospital probably wasn’t the best choice, I admitted. My mother laughed. She laughed when things weren’t all that funny—in fact, when they were just plain ridiculous.

  “I told you. Didn’t I tell you?”

  “But the point was,” I explained, “the trip had nothing to do with Clint, and everything to do with Jackson Memorial. If I announced Clint was going, he would’ve accused me of every possible scenario anyway. A lose—lose situation.”

  “And you still believe this?” my mother said, not quite through with the laughter.

  “Mom. I believe I was wrong. But Jake was wrong, too. We both did a lot of hurtful things to each other over the last few weeks. I just want to fix it.”

  “Men will always trump your simple mistakes times two. They’re not as understanding as women. Things are black-and-white for them. You mishandled him, so he’s going to mishandle you, only he’s got bigger hands, you know what I mean?” Her voice turned away. “Mya stop, get away from that basket. What is this girl’s fascination with laundry?”

  “She likes the smell,” I said. “Mom, put her on the phone.”

  I heard the coaxing my mother had to do to get her away from the probably freshly folded sheets and towels.

  “My-My, hi, baby. How are you, sweetie?”

  “Hiiii,” she breathed out. “Mama.”

  “Yep, mommy, sweetie,” I said softly. “I miss you.”

  She made a small giggle noise. At least someone was happy.

  My mom picked up the phone where Mya had dropped it. “You get some rest. I’ve got Mya. I think Henry’s planning on taking her out to the park, get some sunshine.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I’ll call you later.”

  “Don’t worry about us, you find your husband.”

  “I will.” I hung up the phone and started my phone campaign. Jake wasn’t at JP Wear, but I left a message on his business line. “Baby, I’m home now. I left right behind you. I’m so sorry. Just give me a chance to explain.” Next, his cell phone. The voice mail picked up instantly, telling me his cell phone was off. “I promise to fix everything, baby, to make it right. I promise. I love you.” He refused to call me back.

  Plan B

  It was like old times: he, Legend, and Beverly hunched around a table sipping on martinis. The restaurant was brightly lit but still maintained an erotic calmness. Words were spoken in hushed whispers. Never-ending music like one continuous chord played just below the surface. For a second or maybe longer, Jake was relaxed, though he couldn’t stop the last twenty-four hours from playing in his head.

  Legend lifted his arm for the waitress. “Another round?”

  “Unh-unh, count me out. I’m right where I want to be.” Jake made a cut-off gesture to the waitress.

  “You never could hold an ounce of liquor.” Beverly looked between the two men. “I want to make a toast.”

  He wondered if his wife was on her way back home yet. He didn’t know how he was going to make it through the night thinking about Venus alone with Dr. Ex-Lova. He thought he was bigger than this. But the insecurity crowded his thoughts. He checked his watch.

  “You got another date, bigger name on the other line?” Legend asked with a wiry look of I-know-something-you-think-I-don’t.

  Beverly didn’t chime in. She suspected why Jake kept looking at his watch but kept it to herself. “So, before Jake is completely out of libations, let’s make a toast, to our newly named CEO of JP Wear.”

  “I’ll drink to that.”

  “So kind of them to give you a title at your own damn company,” Legend added.

  Jake hunched his shoulders. “I don’t even care, man. I put way too much energy into that place and got nothing back. It’s time to focus on what’s real. To my friends.” Jake raised his glass. “To my only real friends.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Legend gave an appreciative smile.

  Jake took a long swallow of his drink. “You guys have been great. Thanks for hanging in there with me. A man needs loyalty. A
man needs friends who will stick by him.”

  “I see it’s time for an intervention.” Legend reached across the table and pushed Jake’s glass away. “Now you can go ahead and tell us what happened to your face. Seeing how we’re your loyal band of thieves and all.”

  “I fell.”

  “Venus do that to you?” Legend asked with a menacing smile.

  The mention of her name tore through Jake. For a minute he thought he was going to push up his drinks plus the failed bites of sushi.

  Beverly jumped in. “I’m just afraid of what the other person looked like.”

  “I think I know.” Legend shook his head. “But if you don’t want to tell me the truth, that’s cool. I can’t be a good character witness if I don’t know the real deal.”

  “Character witness for what?”

  Beverly put her head down and stirred her martini with the sprig of orange peel.

  “Byron Steeple was found beat to death sitting in his pretty new Bentley, and you know nothing about that?” Legend asked with a smirk.

  Jake put his hands up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man. But I’m sure he got exactly what he deserved. He must’ve robbed somebody else blind besides me.”

  “Good to hear.” Legend gave a wink to Beverly.

  She ignored him and tried to change the subject. “We need to get back on track, guys. Just because we were infiltrated doesn’t mean we should give up.”

  “Right,” Legend said. “Let’s discuss Plan A, ’cause lord knows Plan B was a bit messy.”

  Jake got up, stumbling slightly backward with his seat. “I’m not in the mood for jokes. I’ll check you guys later.” He slipped a hand to Legend to shake, then squeezed Beverly’s shoulder. He could feel both pairs of eyes on him.

  Beverly stood up and grabbed her fake fur stole. “I’m going after him, take care of the check.” Her tight jeans swished away while Legend looked at the table full of empty glasses.