Brothers and Wives: A Novel

by Cydney Rax

  Scottie can feel himself getting aroused. He can tell she’s confused. Her hair is uncombed and she looks a mess. But the sexiness he used to know still lies underneath. He tries to ignore his physical reaction to her and moves back one step.

  “Can you answer me? You’re raising all kinds of hell because you still want Scottie Meadows in your life, in your face, and in your bed so he can fuck the daylights out of you, so come on with it then. We gonna do this or what? Don’t just stand there.”

  He slides his legs out of his slacks and pulls his shirt over his head. He’s wearing a pair of purple boxers and some gym socks. His penis is poking from behind his drawers.

  “You want me to fuck you, then you’re going to have to slip off your panties at the minimum.”

  “No, Scottie. I don’t want it to be like this.”

  He angrily gets dressed and places his hands on his hips. “If you don’t want it to be like this, then do something to make it different. Stop fucking with my wife.”

  He turns around and grabs the doorknob with one hand.

  “Oh, by the way, if you ever get another bright idea about buying my wife a present, pick Victoria’s Secret next time. That’s my favorite.”

  — 22 —

  ANYA

  Surgery

  Vette, I swear, this stuff is so freaking nasty, it’s unreal. I’m having second thoughts.”

  “Just drink it, Anya.”

  “Yeah, you don’t want anything to go wrong, so do everything your doctor asked you to do, young lady.” That’s Riley Dobson. She, Vette, and I are sitting in my screened patio on Sunday evening. Dusk allows only a small glimmer of light to shine as day gives way to evening.

  “Why don’t you two know-it-alls drink this, then?”

  “I’m too young to drink magnesium citrate,” Vette says. I tilt the container of clear liquid and press the opening against my mouth. Grimacing, I try to think pleasant, positive thoughts while swallowing what has to be some of the most awful liquid drugs I’ve ever stomached. It tastes like lime. Little bubbles form inside my mouth and around my teeth.

  “I’ve been lifting you up to the Lord every morning for two weeks straight,” Riley assures me. “Don’t worry about a single thing, you hear me, Ms. Anya.”

  “I appreciate that, Riley. And to know you’ll be there with me at the hospital is … unbelievable.” I am being sarcastic because I think it’s a shame that Neil’s job won’t let him get time off Tuesday morning, the day I’ll be checking into Park Plaza Hospital. But when he told me that he’d be there as soon as he can in the evening and that he’d already asked Riley and Vette to take his place, I instantly felt a little better.

  “Hey, I gotta be there, hon,” she snickers. “I need to see what’s happening in case I ever have to experience something of this magnitude. Now, of course, I believe that God will never allow me to be seriously ill a day of my life, and so far I can’t complain.”

  “I hate needles too much to seriously go to a hospital. So this will be a first for me,” Vette admits.

  “Oh, Riley, you should have seen the look on Vette’s face when her brother asked her to be with me during surgery. She was like, ‘Who’s gonna watch Reese?’ He told her that Reese can stay with his mom for a few hours that morning, but he expects her to be in that hospital with me, no ifs, ands, or buts.”

  “And I was like, ‘I didn’t make a vow to be with my sister-in-law through sickness and health.’ And you know what my big-head brother had the nerve to say?” she asks, looking at Riley.

  “What did that man say?”

  “He said, ‘And I never vowed to let you live with me off and on, and pay your bills, and buy you food, plus let you watch cable for free.’ Can you believe he went there?”

  Riley and I look at each other and exclaim, “Yes!” and we high-five each other.

  “Girl, your husband is something else, yes, he is. I see him outside in the front sometimes mowing the lawn. That’s when Scottie lived here. And Scottie would pull up in that beautiful car of his, and it would be shining like he just brought it from the car wash. And hon,” Riley chuckles, “he eyeballed Scottie from the time he pulled up till the time he rushed into the house carrying his McDonald’s bag, or Taco Bell bag, or whatever junk food he was eating at the time. He’d either be listening to music and snapping his neck like he was in a serious groove, or he’d be on that cell phone talking away, probably to Dani.”

  The mention of that woman’s name causes a sour frown to develop on my face.

  “Yeah, speaking of the devil,” I respond. “Please keep a watch on my house while I’m in the hospital and let me know if she shows up.”

  “Anya, you’re being silly. What if she needs to pick up Brax?”

  “Don’t care. People use seemingly innocent excuses to get away with committing all kinds of dirt, but I’m not having it. I can’t be worrying about what she’s doing while I’m at the Texas Medical Center praying I don’t die from too much anesthesia.”

  “I’m sure you have good reason to be concerned about Dani, given her history,” says Riley.

  “These days you gotta do what you gotta do. Men are getting slicker, but a lot of times they will never be as crafty as a female. That’s why I don’t trust Dani. I’ve tried to be nice, let my guard down, but it’s a mistake.”

  “But, Anya, what if Dani’s telling the truth about what happened at that hotel?” Vette asks. “LaNecia can be real over the top when Scottie doesn’t pay her attention.”

  “Who you telling? A marriage license to another chick will hardly slow LaNecia down. If she would’ve listened to me, to anybody, her life would be going in a much better direction than where she’s headed.” I shake my head in discouragement. Unfortunately, I have more important things to worry about. Only prayer can help LaNecia. But as I think about it, only prayer can help any one of us. Some problems can’t be fixed by human beings.

  We walk through the doors of the hospital right at seven A.M. I fill out tons of paperwork involving insurance and payments. That’s cool. I can handle those questions. But when the nurse hands me documents that require me to name my power of attorney, I don’t feel so confident.

  “What’s wrong, Anya?” Riley asks, with great concern in her voice. I wave the papers at her. “Here, you sign them.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “I don’t want to think about who’s in charge in case …” I swallow deeply.

  “Hon, we’re going to the ladies room, and by the time we come back, I hope you have filled out those papers. Trust in God. You’ll be all right, Anya, I promise.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I know in whom I believe. I feel peace. You need to tap in to those things all while you’re in the hospital and after you get out. And you should seek peace and faith even to fill out the paperwork. Be right back. Come on, Vette.”

  Immediately I feel ashamed. Riley is such a strong person. She sees light that seems like darkness to me. And when I declare Neil the power of attorney, I feel like her courage has been transferred to me.

  * * *

  “It’s that time,” the nurse informs me. I’m sitting in a wheelchair in a hospital gown with tan and white socks covering my feet and keeping them from feeling like ice cubes.

  Vette bends over and hugs me. “See you, Anya.” She never likes saying good-bye.

  Riley waits for Vette to move. “Don’t forget. We love you, and we’ll be here when you are in the recovery room. When they inject you with anesthesia, keep your mind on Jesus. He’ll be right in that room holding your hand, you hear me?”

  “Yes,” I whisper. “Thanks so much. And … see you later.”

  As I lie in bed in the recovery room, I’m so groggy that I can hear voices but can’t make out who’s saying what. I just know that this couldn’t be heaven because I’m lying down on a bed, my body feels like I’ve been thrown against a wall a few times, and the sounds of characters from Diff’rent Strok
es are playing on TV.

  “What choo talkin’ ’bout, Willis?”

  “Yes,” I say to myself. “Gary Coleman isn’t in heaven and if he’s in hell, I doubt we’d be allowed to watch a comedy.” I succumb to the delicious feeling of extreme sleepiness, and exhaustion, but I’m still here.

  Thank God, I am alive.

  — 23 —

  DANI

  A Great Sex Life Keeps a Man at Home

  It’s a gorgeous Friday evening in April, and I’m going on a date with Scottie. Brax and I are playing with his LEGOs while we wait for Neil to come pick up his son.

  Although I apologized to Scottie countless times and told him I’d never meet Neil at a hotel again, I doubt he believes me. He barely speaks to me in the mornings when he leaves for work. But I don’t care how angry he is, nothing is going to stop me from going to see The Last House on the Left, which premieres tonight at the Alamo Drafthouse.

  I hear the sounds of a vehicle pulling up, and I nervously tell Brax, “Come on. Daddy’s here.”

  Minutes later, I’m downstairs in front of our town house strapping Brax into his car seat.

  “Thanks,” Neil says, grabbing Brax’s everyday bag. “We’ll see you on Sunday afternoon.”

  “Wait, don’t go yet.” I slam Brax’s door and look down the street and around me before continuing to speak. “How are things with you?”

  “Oh well.” He laughs. “It’s going to be different around the house. I think Anya gets a kick out of me waiting on her hand and foot. She actually likes being on bed rest.”

  “I see. How long will she be treated like a queen, so to speak?”

  “At least five weeks.”

  “Aw, shit. You won’t have any nookie for more than a month. First of all, she’s sore from the surgery, and second of all, you know how weird she acts anyway. Let’s double that and say your little dick will be hard as a rock for two months.”

  “Little?”

  “Ooops, sorry, your big-ass Godzilla penis.”

  “Hey, it’s big enough to get the job done.”

  “I know. I remember.”

  I turn around to leave, but Neil says, “Hey, Dani.”

  “What?”

  “How much do you remember?”

  “Ha! Remember we’re both in the doghouse from having the nerve to be in the same Marriott lobby. What a joke. It’s not like anything would’ve happened.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Of course I am. Scottie and I have a fantastic love life. But your woman can’t compete with me in the bedroom department. Now in the kitchen she has me beat, but it’s a great sex life that keeps a man at home.”

  “That’s not always the case, Dani, and you know it.”

  “I know that you are not a temptation for me.” I smirk and turn around to walk back up several steps that lead to the second-level stairwell. “Yep, I can actually be alone with you inside a hotel and we’d never have sex. Ever.”

  “I’ll make you a hundred-dollar bet.”

  “You must enjoy losing money, huh, Neil?”

  “C’mon, here it is.” He removes his wallet from his back pocket and reaches in. “Two fifties. You can hold ’em for me. We’ll meet up. See what happens. If nothing happens, the money’s all yours. But if you give in like I know you will, you owe me.”

  “I don’t have a hundred dollars.”

  “You’ve got two grown people working in a household. You do have it. You just don’t have a hundred to lose.”

  “That’s it. You are such a fucking dope. I hope you don’t always carry around this much money on ya.”

  “I hope so, too.” He turns around and gets in the car, starts the engine, and drives off.

  Neil calls me from his cell a few seconds later. “Meet me back at the same spot. Sunday night.”

  “Sunday?”

  “How about Monday? Seven o’clock. It’s time for another manicure. I can tell by the way your nails were looking just now. That’ll be your alibi when you come and meet me that night.”

  “Fuck you, Neil.”

  “That’s what I’m counting on. See you on Monday.”

  I swear if it weren’t for Neil, I really could have been fully engaged by the action in The Last House on the Left. But when I watch characters get brutally murdered and I don’t react, Scottie finally speaks up.

  “Hey,” he whispers and sips from a glass of beer. “You haven’t jumped one time.”

  “It’s not that scary.”

  “Why are you smiling so much?”

  “You can see me?”

  “I can feel you smile, Dani.”

  “I guess I’m deliriously happy right now. I’m sorry I’m not clutching onto your arm and screaming for dear life. But I am enjoying myself.”

  “Just checking.”

  The next morning when I wake up, my head feels heavier than the rest of my body, and watery liquid constantly slides down my nose and my throat throbs with pain. On Monday morning, I call in sick and the nurse schedules me for a four-thirty slot. I lie in bed and don’t wake up for another five hours.

  When four o’clock rolls around and I see Scottie coming up the stairs of the town house, I signal at him and show him a piece of paper that I typed on our computer:

  “Can you drive me to the doctor? I feel awful. Gotta be there at 4:30.”

  He says sure, and I’m so grateful that all I can do is struggle and smile.

  After I sign in and Scottie handles my copayment, the nurse takes my temperature. “A little high, young lady. A hundred and one. Sounds like you’re fighting a flu bug, but the doctor can tell you for sure.”

  The doctor confirms the nurse’s assessment, and we leave a half hour later loaded down with several prescriptions.

  “Dani, you’re scaring me. You have no energy, huh?”

  I shake my head.

  “Well, babe, I want to apologize for how I’ve been acting. I ain’t mad at you no more. I’m ready to fulfill these wedding vows, seriously.”

  I nod again and turn around in my seat so that my head is leaning against the coldness of the window.

  He’s so good to me. I feel like a piece of shit playing this stupid game behind his back.

  Scottie drops me off at home and continues on to Walgreens to fill and wait for my prescriptions.

  I take the opportunity to call Summer and let her know what’s going on. “Hey, there,” I groan and wince with pain. “How’re you and Andre?”

  “Things are still the same. He’s planning to take us on a cruise this summer. You sound awful. What’s up?”

  I tell her that I’ll probably be out sick this week due to the flu.

  “Swine?”

  “Funny, no, just the regular one.”

  “I hope you feel better.”

  “Thanks, but that isn’t the only thing that’s making me feel bad.” I explain to her about the encounter Neil and I had the other day and how I’m supposed to meet him tonight at the Marriott.

  “You’ve clearly lost your mind. That’s something you shouldn’t even joke about. You don’t need money that bad, do you, Dani?”

  “This isn’t about money.”

  “Then you could have fucked him for free a long time ago.”

  “I know that. But I won’t.” I cough and clear my throat.

  “Yet you’ve been thinking about it, which means the damage has already been done.”

  “No, because I’m calling and letting him know that I’m sick.”

  “Dani, you’re kidding, right? Does that mean if you felt healthy, you’d go through with it?”

  “It’s just a silly, stupid bet. Nothing like that has happened and never could. Besides, I’m so in love with my husband. He brought me home from the doctor, carried me up the stairs, and tucked me in bed. He boiled some delicious hot tea, and turned the TV to my favorite channel.”

  “I know you care about Scottie, and I respect him as your spouse, but I’ve been thinking.”

&n
bsp; “About?”

  “I really wish you had waited before marrying him.”

  “Why?”

  “The fact that he had consensual sex with his relative, any angle you view it, it’s gonna be twisted.”

  “I’m about to go now.”

  “Don’t be this way, Dani. I’m just telling you how I honestly feel. Isn’t that the guideline you try to use with your husband?”

  “You’re not my husband.”

  “I’ve said too much. Forgive me for prying. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

  “I don’t know what I am, Summer. I think it has to do with this terrible flu. I’ll think clearer once I’m one hundred percent better. I’ll call you some other time.”

  I decide to call Neil instead of texting.

  “Hello?”

  Dammit. I disconnect the call not caring that I’ve hung up on Anya. Why’d she answer his cell? I can always say it had something to do with Brax. I hate that she answered.

  By the next weekend, I’m feeling stronger. And on Saturday morning, Scottie asks if I want to go with him to Super Walmart.

  I’m wearing a pink halter and some white shorts. I slide on my sandals and head for the car.

  Once we arrive at the store, Scottie asks me to steer the shopping cart to the seafood section so he can buy some fresh shrimp.

  “I want you to make me a shrimp appetizer where you use lime and tequila and cilantro and parsley. My mom used to make it all the time when we’d have company.”

  “Eww, it sounds so complicated.”

  “If you’re my wife, you are going to have to learn how to make all my favorite dishes.”

  “Hey.” I laugh. “I know I’m your wife and I can’t make all your favorites—just some of them.”

  “Well, that’s gonna have to change.”

  “In your dreams,” I say sweetly and pick up a package of raw shrimp and set it inside our basket. “Scottie, I want us to get some pecans and walnuts; and how about a bag of apples and oranges?”

  “Anything for you, darling.”

  I roll the basket into the fruit and veggies section.

  I look over my shoulder and notice a black guy in his early twenties lingering and sucking on a lollipop like he’s a little boy.