Unfaithful Ties (3 page)

She felt her blood boiling over
. Just the week before, he’d been suspended from school because the campus police found two loose cigarettes in his backpack during a random locker inspection. “Those weren’t my cigarettes” He’d promised Brandi. “I don’t know who put those in my backpack.” Like any other mother she wanted to believe him, but because he’d violated her trust so many times before she was not the least bit convinced that he was telling her the truth. Just like his father, Tremaine Jr. was a compulsive liar and if he didn’t change his demeanor he was going to end up in one of the two places. Jail or the cemetery. To Brandi, he was still her baby and it was difficult for her to imagine him ending up in either of those places. The thought of it scared the living shit out of her.

“He was caught skipping class today by Coach
Drummett. Whom he called names such as faggot and homo. I’m going to assign him to in school suspension and he won’t be able to return to regular class until the three of us sit down and have a conference. Is next Tuesday morning at ten okay with you?” The voice on the other end of the phone asked.

“That’ll be fine” Brandi said and hung up without letting Ms. Hancock finish her sentence.”

She blamed herself. The boy had transferred schools so many times that she couldn’t keep up. Long before her companion Tremaine Sr. had decided not to dedicate another four years of his life to the United States Air Force she’d begged him to resign for years, so that their children could have a shot at a normal life, a life where they didn’t have to move from city to city at the drop of a dime and didn’t have a choice because it was ordered. She wanted them to have a stable home. One that was permanent. And then reality hit her, and she became cognizant of the naked truth, when in fact even if they had a stable home, their lives still won’t be stable because nothing is stable about her and Trae. He no longer desired to be with her. Hardly ever said anything to her. And when he did, it wasn’t nice, or sweet, or even worth listening to.

At night she dreamed that she was in love with a man that loved her more than any other man had. He was romantic, wealthy, past gorgeous, and tall. Spain, Italy, and France you name it, in her dreams they’d vacationed there. They dined at fancy restaurants while tasting the finest Italian cuisine, and Lobster Au Gratin, and Tiramisu, and drank different types of
Passito wines from top-of-the-line wine cabarets.  They lived in a ranch style home and daily they collapsed on their King-sized bed that was embellished with sheets made out of Marino wool and Egyptian cotton threaded with 22 caret gold, or on the sofa in their den that was made out of Egyptian leather, or on the picnic blanket in their picture-perfect landscaped back yard just to make passionate love. In her dreams she didn’t know what aching muscles felt like because routinely she received the most therapeutic massages and foot rubs by the biggest most massive hands she’d ever felt. When she was tired he bathed her in thermal water with big fluffy bubbles enclosing her, and coconut scented candles positioned inches apart around their Jacuzzi. Then he massaged her scalp and washed her hair. Afterwards he dried her off, smoothed lotion all over her silhouette and gently massaged it in her flesh. They’d lie in the bed face to face while listening to
Turn off the lights
by
Teddy Pendergrass
When they bickered he’d apologize first because he couldn’t stand the distance, he’d miss her too much. They’d fall asleep in the spoon position, and she’d wake up to the most delectable cheese omelet and buttermilk crepes she’d ever tasted, because unlike most men he didn’t mind cooking. Her kids, all three of them, adored him. He showed interest in them, took them places, and taught them something she couldn’t. Which was how to be a man! But then she’d wake up in a cold sweat and ticked off as she circled her eyes around the dull room and settled them on the empty space beside her. The space that was empty because her companion was asleep on the sofa or even worse he never made it home. “Fuck” she’d grunt and snuggle the body pillow closer to her stomach. “Why am I only happy in my dreams? And why couldn’t this pillow be a real fucking man?”

As of right now she was reaching to her right, yanking on the drawer of the nightstand. She needed an aspirin,
bad.  Hopefully it’d stop her head from whirling. She twisted off the cap and swallowed two pills dry.
Another parent teacher conference
she thought to herself.

She
snuggled back into the covers. “This time his ass is going to be restricted for ninety days! No television…no cellular phone…no iPod…and no damn Internet. Has the nerve to curse out and adult. How disrespectful? And he probably thinks that he’s gotten away with it too. That boy is really close to being sent to military school. Hell, let them tolerate his ass. I bet that’ll straighten him out. He’s not going to be satisfied until he sees me running with a first class ticket to the nuthouse.” She griped amongst herself.

My life is pitiful, she thought as she tossed from side to side and eventually eased up against the headboard again because she couldn’t fall asleep, and glared at the bronze colored picture frame containing a portrait of her and
Trae.
Images
she thought. In her eyes
an image was nothing but an example of how people wish their lives were
. She wasn’t happy, not even close, but the portrait that she was eyeballing portrayed a couple that had a happily ever after… a bond… a love story. I guess you never really know the real truth when it’s hidden behind a fake smile. The photograph represented something that didn’t exist in her home, happiness. At least she exposed a plastered smile. That motherfucker that she’d been loyal to for all of those years didn’t even put up an effort. Peering at the picture she could perceive exactly what he was feeling. He didn’t want to be in that portrait any more than he wanted to be in her life.

Each
time that she thought things couldn’t get any worse, they always did. Then she’d think that maybe she just complained too much and her life wasn’t really that bad. The house they rented, because they never lived anywhere for more than three years, was on the predominantly white folks side of town in San Antonio. It was a four-bedroom brick house, with a living room area, a supersized family room, a bonus room, an oversized kitchen with marble floors granite countertops, a center island, a dishwasher, spacious cabinets, and stainless steel appliances, three bathrooms plus a half bath downstairs, a study, a colossal wooded deck, an in-ground pool, and a two-car garage. The pad was furnished with elegant expensive furnishings from the entrance of the home to the woodened deck that overlooked the football field that they called a backyard.  The backyard was splendid, 56,000 square ft. of paradise, landscaped with the soothing sound of a flowing waterfall that streamed into a private lake. The space was structured with riverbed pebbles, a roaring out-door stone fire pit, an elegant out-door bar and grill, and pitched stone steps that utilized the space beautifully. It was a masterpiece that was designed with tropical and exotic luscious plants that could send anyone into a trance of relaxation. Most would say that they were trying to keep up with the Jones’s. Truth is, the luxurious all-too-perfect home that Trae pretended he owned, didn’t mean a damn thing to Brandi. She didn’t know how he was able to afford the monthly rental cost of the house, but she was sure that it would eventually put them in debt. She also thought that Trae was in way over his head when he moved their family into the home. But those were the type of things that he did to impress his friends as well as the people on the outside looking in. Not realizing how stupid it was for him to spend so much money on something that he’d never own all because he wanted to impress people that really didn’t give a damn anyway.             

Sometimes she wanted to go out into the backyard, walk over to the pool and dive into the deep end. Her inability to swim would cause her to sink straight to the bottom. She didn’t care if she drowned. At least then she wouldn’t feel like she was a rotted tooth and that her mind, body, and soul were decaying. At least then she wouldn’t have to pretend that she didn’t care if she’d never experienced the pleasure of knowing that someone wanted her and needed her like they needed their next breath. At least then she wouldn’t have to pretend that every night she closed her eyes, she didn’t wish that God would strip her life in her sleep. At least then she didn’t have to pretend that she didn’t hate the hell hold she called home.

Lena, Vanessa, and Stacy all called her “A stupid fool” behind her back. They’d never liked Trae. In fact they hated him.  Everyone that loved Brandi begged her to leave him. Especially her mother “I told you the day you introduced me to that smut, that he was a whorish dog, and he was going to grant you nothing but a life full of misery” Up until Ms. Betty got saved that’s what she quoted to Brandi every time they talked on the phone. All the talk in the world wouldn’t make Brandi leave; she was complacent with Trae and his ways. Hell, what was she going to do with no employment background, no college education, two teenage boys, and a four-year-old son? In her mind, it didn’t make sense for her to leave. What man was going to want her now that she had a supersized donut wrapped around her waist? Her arms were flabby; her thighs rubbed together, fat dangled underneath her arms and drenched ever muscle on her 5 Ft. 2 inches frame. Being that she was barely over 60 inches tall, weighing 190 pounds, referring to her as overweight was an understatement. Her health was declining, and everything and everyone surrounding her was a contributing factor.

Last week, when her feet hit the carpet as she stepped out of the bed she felt like she was a bottle being spun around. Everything around her was spinning and she was overwhelmed with a migraine headache.
It was silly of her to think that a long hot shower could cure it. On her hands and knees she crawled into the master bathroom with trembling bones and chattering teeth, then she turned on the hot drizzle and crawled in. Minutes later she woke up frenzy, panicking as the drizzle splashed into her face. She’d passed out. Right then was when she needed someone the most. Someone to console her and affirm that everything was going to be fine. Someone to support her, not just financially but mentally also. She wanted some support from Trae. But that would’ve been a stretch. More like wishful thinking.  Trae couldn’t care less about her or her health, and she knew it. Now here it was a week later and she still hadn’t gone to the doctor.

Trae
was an egotistical self-centered devil in the flesh that believed his woman should wait on hand-and-foot for him. That his woman was designed to have kids, however many he wanted, cook gourmet meals, clean, spread her legs whenever he wanted her too, to never question him, and to do as he says. Maybe that was how it worked in the fifty’s, but not in today’s time. Nowadays women fend for themselves, but not Brandi. She’d never worked a day in her life because Trae didn’t allow her to. There was a list of things that he didn’t allow her to do. Brandi couldn’t check the mail box, read the mail, go anywhere without his permission and if she did he’d know because he’d check the mileage on her 1996 Chevrolet Lumina minivan, a minivan that contained no air conditioner and a million miles, but she drove it anyway because when she asked Trae to buy her another vehicle because it’s just too damn hot in San Antonio and she needed something a little more reliable anyway, at least something that had an air-conditioner, he laughed at her and told her to lose weight and suggested that maybe if she wasn’t as big as a “whale” the heat wouldn’t bother her as much. Like everything else, she accepted his unwillingness to buy her another vehicle and continued to watch him pimp his new pearl white Jaguar XJ. She was devastated and she couldn’t quit wondering how he was able to afford such an expensive vehicle.

Is this the way that things turn out when you’re careless in your first semester of college and get yourself knocked up by a man that you love pass the moon? Are you supposed to lose yourself? Are you supposed to get too caught up in his world? Which turns out to be a world where he pretends that you
’re extinct and belittles, neglects, and mistreats you even though you’ve given him the best of YOU.  Now you’re lifeless and you don’t have anything left to give anybody else. You feel trapped. So you tolerate him and pretend that everything is euphoric when in actuality you’re fragile and on the verge of breaking. When you were in your prime you raised the twins with limited help from him because he worked during the day and studied all night but you didn’t mind because you was sure that one day all your sacrifices would pay off because you’d eventually become his Mrs. But when he finished school and resigned from the United States Air Force he didn’t marry you, didn’t move you into a permanent home, and never had the desire nor the time to spend with you and the kids. So, now he’s been in your life more than half of your life and he still hasn’t popped the big question because after he landed a job as an industrial engineer, and his money started accumulating, somehow he forgot about YOU. Money changed him severely. He’s never home, never touches you, doesn’t even look at you, but you pretend that you don’t notice that you’re no longer the woman he wants because you’re afraid of being alone. You force yourself to put up with his lies, his deceit, his neglect towards you and the kids although almost every night he comes home reeking in a fragrance that doesn’t belong to you. He pretends that you and the kids are invisible, especially Trevon, his seed that popped out a minute after Tremaine Jr., and is a little bit more feminine than most young boys his age, but Trae refuses to accept it and seems to think that he can beat it out of him, and although you understand that some people are just born that way, you refuse to dispute with Trae. You’re miserable, depressed, and fat, and now at the age of thirty-six you hate the woman that flashes back at you whenever you peer into the mirror. Is this the type of man, you’re supposed to share the rest of your life with? You constantly ask yourself. He’s a man that found a sudden interest in Hennessey, Cognac, Vodka and any other hard liquor known to man, shortly after he enlisted in the military, and you’d thought that the nightmare of him killing himself or even worse killing someone else because he was so inebriated and shouldn’t have been behind a wheel to start with was all going to come to an end when he ended his career in the Air Force, but now all these years later you’re forced to tolerate belligerent behavior that compels you to panic, and scares you half to death, from the acts of a drunk wino that refuses to give you his hand in marriage. Every day of your life you question yourself, call yourself stupid, and you can’t quite grasp why you sacrifice your happiness for a philanderer that you’ve managed to let control your life for years. Sex is what you consider an intimate wish because that’s exactly what you do every night. You go to bed wishing and hoping that the man you love would come into the bedroom and make love to you like he use to.  And it’s been so long since you’ve been touched that you’ve forgotten what it feels like. When he does give it to you, it’s mediocre. A waste of your damn time! There is no passion, no fire, and he acts as if sex with you is a chore that he doesn’t want to do, so he half does the job. And by now, you want and need sex so bad that if you had the gall you’d probably pay for it. This was the pitiful life that Brandi tolerated every single day.