Can I Get a Witness?

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  “Mmm-hmm,” Vanessa said as she stood and slipped out of her robe. She brushed a piece of lint off of her crisp navy Dana Buchman suit. “What time do you have to be at the doctor’s office?”

  “At four. And I could’ve gone by myself. I don’t need an escort.”

  “I want to go, because it’s the only way I can be sure you’ll go.” Ida had scared everyone after a mild heart attack last year. But she’d pulled through it, and Vanessa and her sisters had vowed to make sure she took care of herself: they took turns taking her to the doctor.

  Vanessa glanced at her watch. “Let’s get going. I have a reception at six.”

  “Reception? Isn’t today your anniversary?”

  Vanessa nodded as she reached for her purse. “Yes, and Thomas has called a hundred times, telling me to make sure I’m home at a decent hour because he has a special night planned.”

  “Don’t sound so excited,” Ida mumbled as she walked to the door. “You’d think a woman celebrating her five-year anniversary would be more enthusiastic.”

  Vanessa swung her crocodile Hermès purse over her shoulder. “It’s not that. I just know he’s going to start in on me about kids again, and I’m tired of that argument.”

  “I don’t understand why you haven’t given that boy any babies yet.” Ida shook her head in amazement.

  This was a sore point between them, and Vanessa was tired of Ida harping on it, too. “I keep telling you, the time just isn’t right.”

  “The time will never be right, let you tell it.”

  Vanessa gently pushed her aunt out of the office. “Let’s go.” She didn’t want to have this discussion with Ida—bad enough she knew she was going to hear it from Thomas. He claimed his biological clock was ticking and Vanessa knew he would use their five-year anniversary to hammer home the point that they weren’t getting any younger.

  Vanessa also knew it was just a matter of time before she was going to have to give in. But in her life plan, she had until forty before she needed to start worrying. And that was five whole years away.

  She draped her arm through her aunt’s as they walked out to her car. “Stop all that frowning, Auntie. It creates wrinkles,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “I’m just worried about you, baby girl.” Ida sighed heavily.

  “Don’t be,” Vanessa replied. “Thomas and I have a good life. We understand each other, even if he does get upset from time to time.”

  Ida didn’t respond, but Vanessa could tell she was more worried than she was letting on. Vanessa wasn’t. She had her husband right in her back pocket.

  Chapter 2

  Vanessa worriedly checked her watch. Thomas was going to blow a gasket. She handed the valet a five-dollar tip as she jumped into her silver Mercedes S500. She calculated how long it would take her to make it from the Galleria to her home in Missouri City, a suburb of Houston. Even if she sped like a crazy lady all the way, she still had a good twenty minutes before she made it home. That meant she wouldn’t get there until well after ten.

  Vanessa took her cell phone out of the glove compartment. She had purposefully left it in the car because she knew Thomas would be calling. She flipped open the phone. She was right. Eight missed calls. One from her baby sister, Dionne. The rest were from Thomas.

  Vanessa knew Dionne didn’t want anything—she never did. And she knew Thomas wasn’t doing anything but going off in his messages. “I don’t even feel like hearing that drama,” Vanessa mumbled as she tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.

  Vanessa played out all of the excuses in her mind as she navigated onto the 610 freeway. Maybe she could tell him that Congresswoman Leary wanted her to stick around and meet some very important people. Or maybe she could tell him that the governor was considering her for a Regents spot for a local university and she’d needed to hang around and talk to him about it.

  She sighed. For some reason she just didn’t see any of those excuses flying with Thomas. All he would say was that she’d stood him up again—and on their anniversary.

  “Dang it!” Vanessa slammed her hand on the steering wheel when she realized she hadn’t stopped to pick up the Movado watch she’d custom-ordered for Thomas. Now, not only was she late, but she was about to show up without a gift as well.

  She banged her head against the back of her seat. Why did she do this? Yes, Thomas was sweet and mild-tempered, and she never wanted to take advantage of that. Yet she found herself doing exactly that time and time again.

  “I’ll make it up to you, baby,” she mumbled as she pressed the gas pedal, trying to hurry home.

  Fifteen minutes later, Vanessa pulled into her garage. She climbed out of her car, took a deep breath, and made her way inside their lavishly decorated six-thousand-square-foot home. Ida had blasted them for buying a house so big, but both Vanessa and Thomas had exquisite taste and loved the finer things in life.

  She half expected to see Thomas seated glumly at the dining room table, surrounded by the remnants of a romantic dinner. A dwindled, no-longer-lit candle rose in the middle of the long oak table, but nothing more. Vanessa made her way into the kitchen, where she saw all of the food Thomas had no doubt spent all evening cooking. A china plate containing grilled tilapia, asparagus, and roasted new potatoes sat on the granite countertop. Vanessa reached over and touched the fish. It was cold. Another plate was in the sink, the food still on it.

  Vanessa inhaled deeply. This was worse than she’d thought. She called for her husband. “Thomas?”

  She made her way toward the back staircase. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry, let me explain.” Vanessa still hadn’t figured out what she would tell her husband but she knew she had to make this up to him.

  She saw the light shining under their bedroom door, which was closed. He was probably sitting in there watching TV and ignoring her.

  “Baby, please give me a chance to explain.” Vanessa eased the door open. “I never intended on staying long, but this was a very important reception. Remember, I told—”

  She stopped in her tracks at the sight of her husband leaning over the bed, placing a stack of clothes in a large black suitcase. As always, he was immaculately dressed, wearing a crisp mustard button-down shirt and black linen pants. He had a fresh haircut, making him look like the actor Boris Kodjoe.

  “Thomas, what are you doing?”

  He didn’t respond as he walked over to the dresser and pulled some more clothes out of the open bottom drawer.

  “Thomas? I said, what are you doing?”

  He stopped briefly, glared at her, then walked over to the bed again without bothering to respond.

  Vanessa walked around to the other side of the bed. “Oh, so you’re ignoring me now? I asked you what you were doing.”

  “What does it look like? You’re the genius judge,” he coolly replied as he dropped the clothes in the overpriced, oversize Cole Haan suitcase. Thomas was a connoisseur of the finer things. That’s what she was trying to give him—a better life full of fine things. Granted, he made good money as an architect, but she still made more, not to mention the power and respect she had the potential to bring in. They used to be on the same page, but now he’d become obsessed with having a family and spending time together. Not only were they not on the same page anymore, they weren’t even in the same book.

  “What are you doing?” she repeated.

  “Why do you care?”

  Vanessa sighed as she slipped her purse off her shoulder and set it down on the nightstand. “Thomas, you’re being unreasonable. I have a perfectly good explanation for missing dinner.”

  He zipped the suitcase closed. “You always do.” His voice was calm as he picked up the suitcase and headed toward the door.

  “Are you really leaving?” she asked, feeling a slight prickle of fear.

  “Yes, I really am.”

  She threw up her hands. “I cannot believe you’re acting like this over a stupid dinner.” As soon as she said it, Vanessa wished she could
take the words back.

  Thomas spun around and dropped the suitcase. His eyes spat daggers. “That’s just it, Vanessa.” His voice remained steady. “It wasn’t a stupid dinner to me. And the fact that it was to you means we have a fundamental problem.” He took a deep breath like he was trying his best to stay calm. “I’m tired of this one-sided marriage. I could’ve gone to the Rockets game with my friends from work tonight. Or I could’ve taken the two-week assignment in Brazil like my supervisor wanted me to. But you know what? I told my friends, I told my boss, I couldn’t do it because it would interfere with my five-year wedding anniversary.” His controlled tone was getting louder. “That meant something to me!”

  He picked up his suitcase again. “I’m sick of this. I’m sick of giving, only to have you fit me into your schedule when you feel like it. I’m sick of putting my needs on the back burner for you.”

  “Oh, here we go with this again.” Vanessa sighed, exasperated. “Why did I know it would come back to this, having a baby?”

  Thomas laughed. “Something else that isn’t important to you.”

  “We’ve been over this a thousand times, Thomas. We’ll have a child when the time is right.”

  “And when will that be, Vanessa?” He paused and waited for her to answer. When she didn’t, he continued, “You know when I think it’ll be? Never. Because you will always find something more important to do.” He added ominously, “There are women who would love to give me a child.”

  Vanessa folded her arms across her chest. “What does that mean, Thomas?”

  The fire lighting his eyes dimmed again. “It doesn’t mean anything, Vanessa. I’m just sick of this. You knew I wanted kids when you agreed to marry me. You told me you wanted them, too.”

  “I do…it’s just—”

  He cut her off. “Yeah, I know, the timing isn’t right. You know, I accepted that you weren’t ready for as long as I could. And I’m tired.”

  She shook her head. “Everything’s about you, isn’t it, Thomas?”

  “Oh, forget it,” Thomas muttered. “Why bother?” He headed to the door. “You go on to your political parties. You continue to hobnob with the big dogs. But me, I’m done.”

  Vanessa left the side of the bed and followed him downstairs. She’d never seen him so determined. Usually she could coax him out of his bad mood. “So, just like that, you’re going to walk out?”

  “This isn’t ‘just like’ anything. I’m through, Vanessa. It’s taken me five years, but I get it. I finally get it. You were born to be by yourself. That’s not what I want in a wife.”

  Vanessa watched as Thomas picked up his keys and headed toward the garage. This was definitely the angriest she had ever seen him. She contemplated following him, but then she stopped and reconsidered. It wasn’t so bad. This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten so upset that he left. He was probably going over to his best friend Bernard’s house to cool off.

  Vanessa walked over to the garage door and watched as he pulled out.

  He shot her a hostile look and Vanessa fought back a tear. “I’m sorry, baby,” she whispered. “I promise I’ll make this up to you.”

  She turned and walked back into the house. She’d convince him how sorry she was tomorrow. For now, she’d give him a minute to cool down. But tomorrow, she promised herself, she was going to show her husband just how sorry she really was.

  Chapter 3

  Dionne Colton flashed a euphoric smile at the man lying next to her. Roland was definitely the one. He was her heart, her soul mate, the man she hoped to spend the rest of her life with. Their relationship was going wonderfully, and Dionne had no doubt that she would meet her goal of being married before thirty after all.

  “Good morning, baby,” she said as his eyes fluttered open. They were in his king-size bed at his sparsely decorated two-bedroom apartment on the north side of Houston. Even at eight in the morning, he looked like he should be gracing the cover of some men’s health magazine. His dark chocolate skin was smooth, and his perfectly cut body was testament to the hours he spent in the gym. His almond-shaped eyes, closely cropped fade, and LL Cool J lips were just the icing on the cake.

  Roland greeted her with that warm smile she loved so much. “How is my pretty lady this morning?” he said.

  “Awwww.” She ran her fingers through her honey-colored mane. She had been told numerous times that she looked like a shorter version of Tyra Banks, so she had no problem in the self-esteem department. But it still made her giddy to hear Roland say it. “You really think I’m pretty this early in the morning?”

  “You’re pretty no matter what time of day it is.” He sat up, stretched, then kissed her lips. “Funky breath and all,” he joked.

  Dionne swatted his chest with one hand while covering her mouth with the other.

  He grabbed her arms. “Oooh, I like my women violent.” He pulled her over on top of him as he fell back on the bed. “You’re gonna get me worked up all over again.” He leaned up and passionately kissed her.

  As he covered her neck with kisses, Dionne moaned in delight and muttered, “I love you so much, baby.” He planted more kisses. “Tell me you love me, too,” she whispered.

  “Mmmmm-hmmm,” he mumbled.

  Dionne pulled back slightly. She was easily irritated and Roland was about to take her there. “Just say it, baby. Why won’t you say it?”

  Roland stopped kissing her when he saw how serious she was. He quickly pushed her off of him. “There you go with that again,” he said as she fell back over on the bed.

  Dionne sat up, not letting him get the upper hand. “There I go with what?”

  “With that old bratty attitude that I can’t stand. Why you always gotta ruin the mood?” He threw back the covers and swung his feet over the edge of his bed.

  “I’m ruining the mood because I want you to tell me you love me?” she asked, incredulously. “And what do you mean bratty attitude?” Dionne knew she tended to get an attitude when things weren’t going her way. It was a trait she was working on, but stuff like this with Roland didn’t make it any easier.

  Roland sighed in frustration, then began looking around the floor for his boxer shorts.

  “Answer me, Roland. I mean, I’m starting to wonder.” She pulled up the sheets so she was fully covered. “You claim you want to be with me. Shoot, you act like you want to be with me. Yet every time I talk about love or marriage, you get all brand-new on me. You know I want to get married.” She pouted and waited for him to respond—then fumed as he slipped on his boxer shorts and continued to ignore her.

  “So, now you’re just gonna act like you don’t hear me?” She couldn’t stand to be ignored. “Why don’t you ever want to talk about love or marriage?”

  “Can I at least let the ink get dry on my divorce papers?” he huffed. He was supposed to have his final divorce hearing in a month. He’d been separated from his wife Liz for two years, and Dionne was ecstatic that they were finally about to make it official.

  At the thought of him finalizing his divorce, her voice grew softer. “I’m not asking you to marry me right away. I’m just saying, at least let me know you love me.” She looked at him with pleading eyes.

  Dionne had been with Roland for a year now. She’d been patient and understanding while he went through a bitter divorce with his wife, even enduring the constant harassment from Liz, who tried her best to make Roland’s life miserable. They would’ve been divorced by now if she hadn’t fought him on every little issue. It wasn’t like Liz even still wanted him. She just wanted to make him pay for cheating on her, which was why they were getting a divorce in the first place.

  Or so Dionne thought. She also thought she would have long been married by now, but Roland had been the closest thing to a prospect she’d had in a while. He had a good job, made good money, and treated her like a queen. She was desperate for them to move forward.

  Roland stopped just as he was slipping his T-shirt on and spun toward her. “You know
, Dionne. I’m so sick of this conversation. Every time things are going good, you want to mess—”

  The sound of someone banging on the door caused him to stop talking in mid-sentence.

  Roland was grateful for the distraction, and hurried out of the bedroom. Dionne threw on her baby-doll T-shirt and Daisy Duke shorts and followed him out. She was about to go make some coffee when she saw the horrified expression that crossed his face after he looked out the peephole.

  “Oh, no!” He groaned.

  “What?” Dionne asked.

  “Shhhh,” he replied, holding a finger up to his lips.

  “Open this door, Roland!” the voice on the other side screamed. “I saw your ol’ nasty eyeball in the peephole, so don’t act like you ain’t there!”

  Roland muttered curse words as he looked around frantically.

  “Who is that?” Dionne asked, surprised. She’d never seen him like this.

  “Awww, naw!” the woman screamed. “Is that a female’s voice I hear?” She started kicking the door, landing solid thumps. “I know you don’t have another woman in there!”

  “Oh, no. Oh, no,” Roland muttered as he paced back and forth across the living room floor.

  “Roland, who is that?” Dionne asked again, this time more forcefully.

  “That’s my girlfriend,” he growled, wringing his hands.

  “Your what?”

  “My girlfriend, Tasha. And she is crazy.” Roland regarded Dionne with a look of panic. “Look, I’m gonna need you to hide.”

  Dionne couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Have you lost your mind? I’m not hiding anywhere. And what the hell do you mean, your girlfriend? Since when did you get a girlfriend?”

  Roland was distracted as he said, “Since ’99. Off and on.”

  “Since 1999?” she said, shocked.

  He nodded helplessly.

  “B-but you’ve been married five years.”