His First Wife (19 page)

“Only person?” my mother said. “First, that business wouldn't be much of anything if it wasn't for my contacts and my daughter's work.”

“Ladies,” Jamison tried with his smug smile again, but it was too late.

“And if he's not a doctor, you can blame it on that silly name your son gave him. Tyrian? What kind of name is that. No one has ever had a doctor named Tyrian.”

“No, you didn't!” Jamison's mother dropped her fork on the table.

“Yes, I did,” my mother said. I couldn't believe her. She'd told me to keep my cool and she was clearly off her rocker. “If it wasn't for my daughter in this house, that boy would come just about as close to being a doctor as your son did.”

“Well, he only stopped because your daughter didn't have the grades to do it. He was trying to protect her from you.”

“Mama,” Jamison said.

“You told her that?” I asked.

“No, Jamison,” she started. “I'm tired of these people—”

“These people?” Aunt Luchie cut in.

“Coming in your house acting like they're doing you a favor by being here,” his mother went on. “Like we ain't good enough.”

“Oh, come on, let's stop it,” Aunt Luchie said. “We have to get along for these two. We're family.”

“Well, Lord help us if we're your family,” his mother said. “I seen how you treat family.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” my mother asked, getting up from her seat.

“Dropping your sick husband off in some home like you white or something. Whoever heard of black people just dropping people off to die with some folks they don't know? And it's only a walk and a stone's throw away from here. And you people only go see him once a year and spend the rest pretending he's dead.”

“You take that back!” my mother cried.

“Mama,” Jamison called to Dottie.

“No, I'm tired of keeping up this charade. That old man is sick and the only face he ever sees is one he don't even know.”

“What's she talking about?” I asked, looking at Jamison.

“I—” Jamison tried, but she stepped in front of him at the head of the table.

“He been going to visit your father in the hospital every month. Taking him pictures of your selfish ass, but he can't even tell you because you're crazy.”

“You what?” I asked. I got up. “You did what?” I stepped back from the table, feeling my knees turning to sand. “How? I never told you to . . .”

“Kerry, I just didn't know how to tell you,” Jamison said, walking to me.

“Stay away from me,” I said, stepping back farther.

“Kerry,” Aunt Luchie called, but I turned and kept walking toward Tyrian's bedroom.

“Kerry, don't do this,” Jamison said, following me up the steps. I could still hear the arguing going on in the kitchen.

“Don't say a thing to me, you jerk.” I turned on the light in Tyrian's room and pulled his diaper bag from the door.

“I just wanted to keep him company. I was going to tell you.”

“I'm leaving,” I said. I wasn't even crying. I didn't know where I was going, but I was leaving and taking my child with me.

“Leaving? Because of this?”

“Yes.” I picked up Tyrian's snowsuit and went to the crib.

“Kerry, you can't take him out. It's too cold.” Jamison tried to get between me and the crib, but I pushed him out of the way and went and lifted Tyrian up to put the snowsuit on him.

“I can't let you,” Jamison said.

“You touch me or my child, and one of us is going to the hospital and the other one is going to jail,” I said sternly. I slid Tyrian into the snowsuit and picked him up.

“You're not in your right mind,” he said.

I turned to the door and Aunt Luchie was standing in the doorway.

“Kerry, don't do this,” she said, putting her hands out to take the baby.

“You don't know what's going on here.” I started crying. Tyrian opened his eyes and looked up at me.

“He didn't mean to keep it from you; hear him out.”

“Kerry, I—” Jamison touched my arm.

“Don't touch me!” I screamed. “Aunt Luchie, I'm asking you to move out of my way. I have to leave here now.”

“Kerry,” she tried again.

“I need to get out of here,” I said furiously.

After she moved, I made my way down the stairs and found that most everyone, except for my mother and Jamison's mother, had left. And they were still arguing. I walked into the kitchen with everyone trailing behind me and picked up my car keys.

“Where's she going?” Jamison's mother asked. “It's too cold to take that baby out.”

“Maybe we're going to Coreen's house,” I said. And if words could cause a heart attack, I'd swear she was on her way to cardiac arrest. She didn't even respond. She just stood there with her mouth open, and her hand over her heart. “That's right,” I added. “I know about her and what you tried to do, you old cow.”

“What?” my mother said.

“What are you talking about?” Jamison asked.

“Oh, now you don't know? Your mother was the one who tried to hook you up with Coreen.”

“Ridiculous,” Jamison said. “She doesn't even know her.”

I opened the kitchen door to head out to the car.

“She doesn't know about Coreen,” Jamison said.

“I saw her.” I slid Tyrian into his seat and closed the car door.

“Saw who?”

“Coreen. I saw her at the church today. And she told me everything, Jamison. About your fucking e-mails.”

“It's over between us. I told you that.”

“Really? Well, then why did you e-mail her yesterday?”

“Because she's sick. She really needs help.”

“No, Jamison, I need your help. Your family needs your help.” I climbed into the driver's seat. “And you weren't there for us. And then you go and see my father behind my back!”

“I was trying to protect you,” he said.

“See, that's the thing you can't get, Jamison. I'm a grown woman. I don't need your protection anymore. I'm your wife. I'm your wife! How could you share all these things with your mother and not with me? Go behind my back for all these years? That's crazy. You're supposed to love me.” I cried.

“That's what I've been doing all of these years, loving you.”

“If you loved me you wouldn't have lied to me. I feel like a damn fool for trusting you and then going back to you only to have you do the same thing again. I feel so humiliated. I really resent you right now.”

“You don't understand what's happening, Kerry,” he said, holding on to the door.

“No, I don't care what's happening,” I said. “The only thing I care about is my baby and my life, and that's it from now on.”

“Jamison, I'm so sorry,” his mother said, rushing up behind him. “I didn't know she was pregnant then. I thought I was doing what was best for us.”

“
Us
, Mama?” Jamison said, turning away from me. “How could you even think of such a thing?”

“I'm sorry,” she cried.

Jamison exhaled deeply and turned back to me.

“That's all you're going to do?” I asked. “She tried to ruin our marriage and all you can do is take a deep breath? God, Jamison, grow up.”

I turned the ignition.

“Where are you going?” my mother said, running out of the house. Tyrian started crying in the backseat.

“Mother, stay out of it,” I said. “I'm leaving.”

“Leaving?” Jamison's mother said.

“Mama, just go in the house,” Jamison said firmly. “I'll deal with you later.”

She backed off, clearly surprised at Jamison's anger.

“I'm sorry, Kerry,” Jamison said to me.

“I know you are. But it's not good enough anymore.”

W
hen I was about seven, I remember my pastor saying in church one Sunday that the devil won't ever look like the devil when he comes into your life. And this was the perfect time to hear such a statement—at that time I'd heard my mother talk about the devil so many times as some evil, dark, floating man, that in my head he looked like a werewolf or something out of a horror flick. The devil had horns on his head, thick red skin, a tail, and razor sharp teeth that he'd use to cut into my stomach. But when pastor said that the devil had no one image, and that when he came it would likely be an attractive or familiar face, I went out looking for the devil in everything. Was my teacher a devil when she gave me a B? Was my mother a devil when she made me carry food stamps to the store?

As I grew, I realized that was an unlikely way of detecting and outing the devil. In fact, I realized that I seldom knew when I'd had a “close encounter” until the devil's deed had already been done. Now, I don't mean this to say that Coreen was or is the devil. The situation was quite the contrary. She was a beautiful woman who had little connection to the devil other than her human frailties, which I share. What I mean to bring up here instead is those situations, those evil situations that seem wholly innocent as they are beginning or progressing, but when you come out on the other end, you're left saying, “That wasn't nothing but the devil.” Now whether you or the devil is the person involved in the situation is entirely up for question. Either way, something evil transpired.

When I got the e-mail, that first e-mail from Coreen, it was just weeks after the
Black Enterprise
story ran in the magazine. I was feeling pretty good about my business and excited by all of the accolades I was receiving from random people in the street. I'd be out at lunch and someone would walk up to me and say they'd seen me somewhere before and some people would ask for my business card. I was sailing on top of the world and wanted never to come down. When I did come down, though, was when I'd get home. The first time Kerry saw the article, she complained about the baby grand and how she'd felt Marial dismissed her and pointed out that she didn't include any of her quotes. She never once said how great it was that I was in the magazine nor offered to have it framed, as I thought she would. Instead, she complained and the only positive thing I heard from her was that my tie looked nice.

This, I tried to take without a bruised ego. I knew that Kerry was having a hard time. She'd started putting on weight and I was beginning to suspect that she was tired of simply sitting at home all day, waiting for me to come home. She seemed unfulfilled and unhappy, but I honestly didn't know how to handle her in that way. I didn't want to make her angry by suggesting that she go back to school, and I didn't want to make her sad by pointing out all of the great things that were happening to me. Instead, I chose to be silent to protect two things: the quiet I enjoyed by not fighting with my wife, and the sex I'd get by keeping the peace.

I thought this was fine. Not okay, but fine. We'd had rough spots in the ten-plus years we'd been together and sometimes, fine was all I'd get. Fine led to okay and then okay led to good. But I never wanted to just be bad, and I was afraid that pointing out her flaws and my achievements would make things bad on her part and the result—a bunch of arguments and no sex—would be bad on my part. These two bads only led to one place with my other friends—divorce court. And I never wanted to be there. I wasn't in marital bliss, but I loved Kerry with every piece of my being and I never wanted to change our relationship.

Then I got Coreen's e-mail. And the e-mail, which was so innocent, turned to us linking up. Now, I'd been around attractive women before, but Coreen just had something about her—the way she looked at me, the way she seemed to pay special attention to herself when I was coming around. At first, I thought I'd get over these things, and this was long before anything really happened between us, but then the way she spoke to me, always saying nice things and asking me for advice—hell, in my mind, that moved her from being cute to being gorgeous, amazing, and in the face of Kerry's lack of reaction to me, everything I'd ever want in life. See, Coreen never seemed to want much, and the little I gave her, she went on and on about how great it was. If I found an hour in the day to spend with her, she'd make me a meal and bring it out to wherever I was. Then when she'd get there, she'd say how she felt so special to be eating with me and was happy that I had any time to spend with her. I hadn't had praise like this from Kerry in years. Our Mexican fiestas had long turned into her being afraid to stain the antique sofa she'd ordered from Paris. And while she often came to eat lunch with me, she'd request lunch at a fine restaurant or country club where we'd either work to get connections or discuss the ones we had. Compared to that, Coreen was a breath of fresh air.

I'm not stupid enough to believe that this made her a better mate for me than my wife. Or that I had a better relationship with her than I had with Kerry. I know that my main attraction to Coreen—other than that she was fine as hell—was that she was new. See, Kerry had been there for me from the time when I wore sneakers from Payless and ate Hamburger Helper every night for dinner. While both she and I enjoyed talking about those days and I loved her for sticking by my side, at times that seemed to get in the way of her being able to see the new me. She knew I had faults. She knew I worried about my company and sometimes didn't sleep at night. She'd been in my mother's house and had seen me cry more than ten times about how poor I'd grown up. Sometimes I felt that to Kerry I was a man, her man, but still a man with flaws and cracks. Coreen couldn't see any cracks. If I didn't know something, she'd laugh it off and bring up something else. And if I didn't want to talk about the next topic, she'd bring up something else or just sit there quiet until I started speaking. She depended completely on me. Now this wasn't exactly the kind of woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, but damn, it felt good to have her around after a hard day. Someone not connected. Not judgmental. Not wanting or expecting anything but me. It felt good.

“Nah, dog, don't do it,” Damien said when I told him about Coreen over a beer. Damien had been involved with so many women since he'd married Marcy that we'd stopped memorizing their names—they'd have nicknames that described them: “Thick Ass,” “Baby Mama,” “Big Titties”—so I was very surprised at his reaction. I didn't even tell him about Coreen at first, but after we had sex, I felt really bad and thought that talking about it with the fellas would make me feel better. After ten years, I was finally in their club—married and dating. I wasn't ready for Damien to tell me to back down. I felt bad enough.

“I already did it,” I said.

“Well, break it off now and never, ever tell Kerry. Just stop it now,” Damien said, sipping his beer with a contemplative look in his eyes. “Once you start that shit in your marriage, there's no way to get rid of it. You know? Sometimes I think the only reason I been doing it all this time is because I did it that first time. Once Marcy found out, she became so angry and shut off from me that I had to go somewhere else to find comfort. Shit, a brother needed a hug.”

“Well, why didn't you go to Marcy?”

“She'd hug me, and then sometimes even kiss me, but the shit wasn't the same. I could see in her eyes that she resented me for what happened. And that shit hurt because I knew I couldn't fix it. And I couldn't talk about it with her, so I went and talked to someone else. Then Marcy got so mad that she started cheating. Then I did it again to get back at her for that. And here we are now.”

“Well, if you know it won't ever be fixed, why not just leave?” I asked. I was surprised. Damien was my dog, but we never really spoke about his feelings about his wife and the only reason I knew Marcy had other men was because Kerry let little stuff slip every now and again.

“Shit, I ain't leaving that woman,” Damien chuckled. “That's my wife. And I ain't breaking up my family either. Have some other man raising my daughter? All up in my crib. Hell no.” He paused and took another sip of his beer. “Marcy and I was just made for each other. I can't leave her.”

“Can't live with her; can't live without her.”

“Exactly,” he said. “And I know if I feel that way about Marcy, you'd be messed up if Kerry left you. You been drinking her tittie juice since I introduced you two at that Valentine's dance.”

“Kiss my ass.” I took a playful swing at him.

“Brother been whiiiipppeed!” He laughed and took a swing back at me. “But really, man. I'm telling you this because I know what's out here. Just leave that shit alone. I don't even want to hear about this broad. Go home tonight and tell her to leave you alone.”

“What if I can't?”

“No such thing. You're a Morehouse man.”

We gave each other dap and just like that, I was in my car and on my way home to end things with Coreen. Damien was a lot of things, but he wasn't stupid. He was one of the smartest people I knew and I had to respect his opinion. And it didn't help that the little voice inside me was saying the same thing. “Run like hell, brother,” the voice kept saying. And now Damien had put it on full blast. He was right. The whole thing was exciting and the sex felt good, but that feeling of emptiness I felt inside from lying to and cheating on my wife when she hadn't done anything made me want to vomit.

Kerry was sitting on the couch in the living room when I walked in. The lights were all off and when I switched a lamp on, she turned to me and I could see that her eyes were red. I knew she'd found out then. She'd been suspicious and asking me all kinds of crazy questions for weeks, and now she'd found out. Had Coreen called the house? Had she called? Was she waiting in the bathroom?

“Kerry, I can explain,” I said, rushing over to her.

“No, I want to go first,” she said.

“But it's nothing you did,” I said.

“No, it's what we both did.” She opened her arms and wrapped them around me tight. “We're pregnant,” she whispered in my ear.

“What?”

“A baby,” she cried. “We're pregnant.”

“What!”

She hugged me tighter and even in my disbelief I started crying too. We'd been talking about it, but Kerry and I hadn't had sex in weeks. She'd been cranky, had some kind of flu and was feeling bloated, so I had to take up residence on the other side of the bed. We weren't exactly working on a baby. But damn if the news didn't sound and feel good. I was going to be a daddy. This was just what I needed.

“What is it?” I asked.

“We don't know yet, silly,” Kerry laughed and kissed me on the cheek and I swear it was the softest kiss she'd given me in months. It was so soft and real that we caught eyes and kissed each other hard on the lips.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you too, Kerry.”

After we called our mothers, we sat down in bed together and Kerry was moving full speed ahead as usual with her planning. I tuned out somewhere when she was talking about ordering a crib from some store in Los Angeles. Something about a valance and a celebrity stroller and I was sitting there nodding, but not really listening. While I was still excited about the baby, my mind had gone back to remembering what I was doing and where I was headed when I walked in the door. I was going to break it off with Coreen to save my marriage and now I had more reason. I needed to save my family.

When Kerry got up to take her nightly shower, I went into the office to call Coreen. I picked up the phone, but every time I did, I realized that I had nothing to say that would sound right. Any way I said it, I would sound like a heartless jerk. One thing I knew was that women always claimed they wanted to hear the truth, but when it came out and it wasn't in their favor, they hated it and usually flipped out. Now Coreen hadn't shown me that side of her personality just yet, but some of the stories she told me about her husband and her past suggested that she was a bit more of a firecracker than Kerry. Coreen was a sweet girl, but she was also very emotional and had a temper. But I had to do what I had to do. Call me a punk; call me a buster, but sitting in that office alone with the sound of Kerry singing “Rock-a-Bye-Baby” in the shower in the background, I decided there was only one way out. I had to end the thing quick and clean. I decided to write her an e-mail. I knew it was wrong, but shit, she wasn't my wife. I didn't owe her anything. We both agreed that there'd be no strings attached. She said she was a big girl.

Coreen wasn't exactly okay with the news about the baby, but I figured she'd get over it. In fact, I forwarded most of her e-mails to Damien and he said they were all pretty normal for a breakup. He said not to respond and just let it go. I listened to him, but the messages kept going. Every day. Every night. There was either a phone message or e-mail from Coreen. And then they started getting sadder and sometimes just dark. She accused me of lying to her. Said we were meant to be together and that Kerry was no good for me. That she would wait for me and didn't even care that I was married. It sounded so crazy. I mean, I liked her, but love was a big word I reserved for one person. And her feelings for me just sounded too deep. I didn't know what they were based on. We'd had laughs and sex less than a handful of times. I hadn't given her any romantic gifts or claimed I was doing anything with her other than what was happening. I did complain about Kerry from time to time, but I never said I was going to leave her. Sometimes I felt like maybe Coreen's feelings for me, or what she'd claimed she'd had for me, were from somewhere else. That maybe she was struggling with losing her husband or the fact that her life wasn't at the point where it needed to be. I actually e-mailed her that one time, breaking my rule of silence, but Coreen ignored it. She just kept saying I was lying and that I really wanted to be with her but I was scared to leave Kerry and wanted to be there for my son. Damien laughed and said he had so many girls claiming he was a liar when he said he didn't want to be with them that it was pitiful. He said to stand my ground and not contact her.