I BATTLE a clarity I wish had never come.
Voices tear at me. Pointing fingers. Angry scowls. Conflicting ideals. A million different ropes tug me in a million directions.
If I was alone on this path, it would be easier to swallow. My hands would brush against my own faults and I’d accept them without a fight.
But that’s not the case.
When I turn my head to the left and the right, I see thousands of faces. Familiar faces. Men in positions of power. Men in churches. Men in clubs. Men of all colors and nationalities.
Everyone steps out on their wife. Everyone.
I’m not unique.
Hell, I’m not even the worse.
Beautiful things happen outside of a marriage too. Genuine connections. Friendships that turn into more. It’s not always calculated, even if the line forces society to define it in black and white.
I’m no different than any other man. It’s just sex.
Different.
Meaningless.
It’s a breather. A momentary escape from normalcy. Good.
It’s good.
Sometimes, it saves a marriage. Keeps it from falling apart when life gets too repetitive and the familiar appeals about as much as a dry sponge.
There’s excitement in the unknown. Beauty in the hunt. Hell, there’s plain satisfaction screwing someone I never have before.
It’s basic. Human nature.
My own father cheated on my mother for years. Every day, he came home to a meal on the table, a smile on my mother’s red-painted lips, a beer in his hand that she provided.
My mother stayed.
Even after she found out, she didn’t complain. At least, not in front of
me.
I learned that it was love to stay. Wrong to leave. Hell on earth if either
of those rules were broken.
The heat in the room cuts the back of my neck. Sunshine burns my skin. Illuminates memories I’d rather lock away in a cabinet labeled ‘not my fault’.
Instead, I keep hearing Doc in my head.
‘What goes wrong in the marriage isn’t always your fault, but it’s always your responsibility’.
No one told me that.
No one explained in a way that made sense.
I’ve never heard that the wife is the mirror. My father never sat me down and taught me how to communicate with a wife. He never drilled in my head that commitment was the most important part of a marriage.
It’s sounds like I’m blaming someone else. I’m not.
There are too many thoughts. They’re rushing too fast. I learned to provide.
Hell yes.
I’m a great provider.
Money is easy. Luxury is a necessity. My ego would shrink to the size of a prune if I couldn’t deck my lady out in the best.
In that sense, I’ve always agreed with Doc. Always thought of my wife as a reflection of me. I would never allow myself to go around looking shabby. I let money fall like rain over a plant that only asked for water.
Your wife is a mirror. Whatever you give her, she’ll give back to you.
Restless, I shoot to my feet and pace my office. My heart thuds.
I can’t outrun Doc’s voice. Can’t get him out of my head.
If I would ask your wife for evidence of your commitment to the marriage, what would she tell me?
I’ll never forget Harriet’s expression when I asked. Her face hardened for a second. She scoffed beneath her breath. I held the mirror up to her face and understood why bitterness, complaints, and anger were reflecting back.
She didn’t have to say a word. I knew it.
That I’d failed.
That I’d hurt her.
Then she said the words out loud. Not to gouge me. I don’t think she meant to break my heart.
But she did.
I love her.
That’s never changed. It’s why I came back home to her even though I could have dumped her for any of those girls. If I wanted different, I would have taken it.
Hurting her was not the plan.
I didn’t seek out her pain. I don’t feed on it.
But my greed broke something in her. Something that I didn’t realize was out of commission until she started smiling again. Until her laughter rang long and low instead of the way it used to. The way it faded into oblivion.
Someone knocks on the door.
I don’t recognize my voice when it bounces out of me. “Come in.”
Patrick runs into the office. His cheeks scrunch up, bunching under eyes that glitter with intrigue. “Jer, you will not believe… whoa. Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” I run a hand down my face. Feel the limb tremble as I move. “Bro, you’ve always been white, but you’ve never been that white. Did
something happen?”
“No.” My voice sounds much stronger than I feel. I’m stuck in a limbo of regret and rebellion.
The condemnation is new. I’m not used to pointing fingers at myself. It’s uncomfortable.
It’s hard to run with it.
But there’s Doc’s example about the athlete. And I can’t help seeing the truth in it. The truth in everything.
Patrick hauls me out of my chair. “Come on, man. You’re scaring me.” “I said I’m fine.” I shove his hand away. “What do you want?”
“You should be thanking me right now.” Patrick scowls. “I just saved your marriage.”
“What are you talking about?” “Ashley was here.”
Three words.
They drain the air from my lungs.
I lurch forward and grab his shoulders. “Did Harriet see her?” “Yeah, man. She did.”
I stumble back. Grapple for my phone.
“What are you doing?” Patrick’s voice bounces off the wall.
“Calling her.” My fingers tremble. “So I can explain. So I can-” I don’t even know.
You hurt me, Jerrison.
What do I do with those words? How do I fix this?
I don’t know how to deal with the consequences. It wasn’t this complicated when I didn’t care. Why the hell has it gotten so complicated now?
“Relax, J.” Patrick slaps my shoulder. “I took care of it.” My head whips around. “How?”
“I told Harriet that Ashley was here to see me.” My friend preens like he just won an award for best actor. “I took your girl to my office and waited until Harriet left. I’m pretty sure your wife bought it, but I’d still buy her some flowers and feel her out just in case.”
The lump in my throat makes it hard to speak. “And Ashley?”
“She left. Said something about not wanting to bother you.” He chuckles. “I think seeing Harriet messed her up.” Patrick strokes his chin. “Which is weird because she had no problems sneaking around with you at Fuentes’s party.”
I push him away from me. “I told Ashley we needed to take a break for two months.”
“Yeah right.” Pat’s in full joker mode. He gets obnoxious. Loud. “Don’t lie to me, Bradley. I know you like her too. You talk about her with more respect than you ever talked about Cindy or those other girls. Why else would you invite her to the office today?”
“I didn’t invite her. She’s going through something with her dad,” I mumble. “I told her I’d help her out. She must have wanted to talk about that.”
“I believe you, playa.” Patrick wiggles his eyebrows.
The hand holding my cell phone falls limply at my sides. Patrick’s carefree tone rattles a nugget of truth loose in my head. If my best friend doesn’t believe me, Harriet sure as hell won’t.
I lean against the desk. Press my knuckles into the wood. Bunch my shoulders forward. “Pat.”
“Yeah?” He plops into the couch and makes himself comfortable. “Could you give me a minute?”
“Why?” His smile almost pops off his face. “You ’bouta call Ash?” I glare at him.
He scrambles to his feet. “Chill, J. I’m leaving.” Once I’m alone, I dial Doc.
He answers on the third ring. “Hello?”
“What do I do to show commitment to my wife?” Doc’s breath is all I can hear.
“I hurt her. And I realize that it’ll take more than saying I’m sorry to fix this.” I dig my fingers into the cell phone and beg, “Tell me what to do.”
“Go back to dating.” Doc’s voice rumbles through the phone. “It’s that simple?”
“Only in theory.” Metal clanks on his end of the line. I can easily picture him perched over a vehicle, sorting through what’s broken to make it whole again. “What would you have done if you were dating your wife?”
“Back then, it was easier to get her attention. She’s got the cards stacked against me now.”
“Then go back to before you were dating. What would you do if you were trying to wow your wife? What’s the first thing you’d try in order to get her to spend time with you?”
My mind expands with ideas, but there’s an accompanying case of dread. A part of me is scared that, no matter how hard I try, it won’t make a difference and Harriet might be done with me for good.