Married Men (12 page)
Authors: Carl Weber
I moaned, trying to keep the car under control. Her sweet kisses were about to send me into frenzy. This surprise from my wife reminded me all at once of the Kenya I had fallen in love with.
8
Kyle
I’d been sitting in the reception area of the office of Dr. Jerome Stanley for half an hour. This wasn’t my first visit, but I still felt like a nervous child waiting to get his shots. Dr. Stanley was the psychiatrist who I had been seeing ever since the false arrest and the fight with my wife. Normally I wouldn’t even consider going to see a shrink, but things had gotten pretty bad for me. I’d reluctantly gone to see the shrink on the recommendation of my personal physician, Dr. Rayburn, who had been treating me because I was having major problems keeping an erection since my arrest.
Lisa had tried to understand in the beginning, but after a while she started taking the whole thing personally. Needless to say, she wasn’t the least bit pleased with my performances. I guess one night she just decided she’d had enough. The woman had gone all out, with a new negligee, a bottle of French wine, and candles everywhere. I had to give her an A for effort, but I still couldn’t make it work. She lost it in a fit of tears, wanting to know what was wrong with her that I couldn’t get it up. She insisted I go see Dr. Rayburn and have him prescribe me some Viagra. At first I resisted, but was embarrassed into agreeing when she reminded me how long it had really been since she’d seen my little man standing at attention. That’s when I realized I had a serious problem and needed to seek help.
That first visit to Dr. Rayburn’s office was like my worst nightmare. My knees went weak when the receptionist asked me what my visit was for. I had this image of her putting my voice on her little intercom, so the whole office could laugh at the poor guy who couldn’t get it up. Add to that the fact that Dr. Rayburn happened to be Jay’s first cousin, and I thought I’d never make it out of there with a shred of dignity left. But I have to admit, Dr. Rayburn and his staff made me feel real comfortable. I guess I wasn’t the only guy in the world with this problem. He told me that impotence was very common among men thirty-five years and older, and that Viagra would probably help things out. He gave me a few routine tests and explained what the drug was supposed to do. Then he made it very clear that Viagra could help any physical problems that I might be having with impotence, but if my problem was psychological, I would probably need to see a shrink. He wrote me a prescription and l left his office feeling pretty good. I was sure the stuff was gonna work just fine for me. I planned to make that night special. Lisa and I hadn’t had good sex since my arrest.
On my way home I filled my prescription and stopped off at the florist to pick up a dozen roses. When I got to the house, I went straight to the kitchen, where Lisa was making dinner. My daughters were at the kitchen table, so I signaled for them to keep quiet as I snuck up behind Lisa and covered her eyes.
“Guess who?”
“Oh my God, Phil, I told you my husband was on his way home,” she joked.
“That’s not Phil, Mommy. That’s Daddy!” my youngest yelled.
We all laughed. I took my hand off Lisa’s eyes and presented her with the roses. She smiled, kissing me lightly.
“What’d the doctor say?” she asked seriously.
I looked away from her, biting my lip so I wouldn’t smile. Then I reached into my suit coat and handed her a small jewelry box. She opened the box with a puzzled look on her face.
“What’s this?” She picked up the small blue pill that rested inside the box.
I grabbed her tightly and whispered into her ear, “Baby, that’s Viagra. And that means it’s on tonight.”
At seven-thirty we finished dinner and Lisa followed the girls into their room to get them ready for bed. She’d given me that “I’ll meet you in the bedroom” wink before she left the table, so I started to mentally prepare. Making love to Lisa was important. During hard times when we were struggling, the intimacy of making love was the only thing that kept us together. Now with our disagreement about my lawsuit, we were slipping apart again. Without sex and the kids, we might not have any real reason to be in the same room.
The doc had told me to take my Viagra an hour before sex, so that’s what I did. I poured myself a glass of ice cold water and swallowed that little magic blue bullet. Then I headed to the bedroom for a quick shower. I slipped into my silk robe and splashed on some cologne. Then I went to the girls’ room to say good night. Lisa was just about to turn the lights out.
“Everyone’s bathed and had their story,” she smiled.
“I’ll get the lights, babe. I wanna say good night to the girls.” Lisa looked me up and down and winked. I smiled, watching her purposely sway her ass as she walked to our bedroom. I kissed each of my daughters and said good night, turning out the light.
By the time I was back in my bedroom, the Viagra should have been ready to take effect, and with a little encouragement I’d be ready for action. Slipping out of my robe and under the covers, I waited for Lisa to come out of the bathroom, hoping she’d be wearing something sexy.
I wasn’t disappointed when she walked out. Lisa was wearing an all-white teddy with a white garter and stockings. She also had on a pair of white high heels and bright red lipstick. She looked like a Playboy playmate, and I felt like the luckiest man alive when she climbed on top of me. When she kissed me, her tongue slid into my mouth, reminding me how skilled she could be. I imagined all the other places she’d be using it that night. Finally she had worked her way down to my chest, nibbling on my nipples. I wasn’t positive, because she was lying on top of me, but I knew I must have been rock hard. That Viagra was doing its stuff. Lisa pulled back the covers slowly and began to trail her tongue down my stomach. I opened my eyes and lifted my head, looking down eagerly. I hadn’t seen my poor penis hard in almost two months. I wanted to see it and let out a sigh of relief.
“Kyle, are you concentrating?” Lisa sounded disappointed.
She’d seen it before me. I was limp as an egg noodle. God, what was I gonna do? I knew I couldn’t live my life like this. Lisa tried her best to awaken my manhood, but everything she tried just didn’t work.
Finally in frustration she shouted, “This is fucking ridiculous! I spent a hundred dollars on this outfit. I should have spent it on a good gigolo.” She stomped out of the room.
Lisa slept in the guest room that night. I tried, but couldn’t sleep at all. I didn’t stick around for breakfast, but drove straight to Dr. Rayburn’s office. I had to wait until nine o’clock for him to get in, but when I finally spoke to him he said, “Kyle, I’m sorry to hear that the Viagra didn’t work. But I did tell you that this could be a psychological disorder and not a physical problem. Why don’t I give you the number to Dr. Jerome Stanley? He’s a top-notch psychiatrist, and he’s also a brother.”
I called Dr. Stanley right away for an appointment. After the first visit, I felt comfortable enough to make a second, and before I knew it, I had seen the shrink five times. He hadn’t made any strong conclusions yet, but promised me this would be the visit he would give me his full evaluation of my situation. That’s why I was sitting in his office, sweating like I’d run a marathon.
“Mr. Richmond,” the receptionist called out, “the doctor will see you now.”
I sighed heavily as I entered the doctor’s office. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. I had this terrible image of the doc telling me my problem was permanent. Things were already bad enough at home. I’d been avoiding Lisa and hadn’t slept in our room since the night of the failed Viagra. Not only that, but the girls were starting to sense the problem between us and it was obviously affecting them. My oldest, Jewel, a perfectly behaved kid, was really starting to act up in class.
I shook the doc’s hand when I entered, and he gestured for me to have a seat by his desk. The doc was a brown-skinned man, probably in his fifties. While I sat down, he rummaged through a few of his desk drawers. I couldn’t tell if he was stalling or really trying to find something, but his lack of eye contact made me very uncomfortable.
When he looked up, I tried to lighten my mood by asking, “So, Doc, do you think you can cure me?”
He shuffled the papers on his desk and looked at me with a tiny smirk. “Yes, Kyle, I think I can cure you.” Then he returned to his paper search until he found a folder.
“Sorry about that. I’m a little disorganized today.”
I laughed. “Don’t worry, Doc. I’m disorganized every day.”
“Mr. Richmond, I think we can be certain your problem originated around the time you were falsely arrested. But I don’t think it was entirely your arrest that caused your impotence. I think it was stress-related.”
“Stress?” I was confused.
“Yes, stress-related. I think you need to take a vacation. Preferably just you and your wife. The normal strains of your everyday life had been intensifying, and this fiasco with the police just sent you over the edge.”
I stroked my mustache as I listened intently to the doctor. What he was saying made a lot of sense. I’d been working sixty-plus hours a week for almost five years, and the only time I had to relax was playing ball with the fellas and making love to Lisa. I hadn’t been on a vacation in three years.
“Okay, Doc. I think that’s a good idea.”
“I’d also like you and your wife to come in together for an hour session each week, in addition to the time we spend one-on-one.” He reached into his drawer and handed me a business card. “I know this is going to be hard, but I’d also like the two of you to see Beverly Jenkins. She’s one of the best sex therapists in the business.”
“Sex therapist? I’m not going to a sex therapist. Why do I need a sex therapist?” Just the sound of it made me feel that even if I could get it up, this so-called professional didn’t believe I would know what to do with it.
“Doc, you said it was stress. Why can’t I just take a vacation and cut back my hours at work? I’m gonna be seeing you twice a week.”
“I said your problem was stress-related. I didn’t say it had anything to do with work. In fact, work is probably the place you’re least stressed.”
I looked at the doc strangely. He was really confusing me now.
“Kyle, your stress derives from your marriage.”
“Hold on. I have to disagree with you. The only thing stressful about my marriage is that I can’t get it up,” I explained, like I was the one with the medical degree.
Dr. Stanley sat back in his chair and folded his hands. He didn’t say a word, just watched me until I calmed down.
“Let me ask you something, Kyle.”
“Go ahead.”
“Why’d you marry your wife in the first place? Do you have a problem with black women?”
“Hell no. What kind of a question is that?” I was offended.
“Then how come in every session we’ve had you’ve admitted to avoiding affection with your wife when black women are around?”
“That’s because sisters be trippin’, they get all jealous and start talkin’ shit about you.”
“Why should that bother you? You’re married.” I didn’t know how to answer him.
“Didn’t you also say that you don’t let your wife come to your stores because you didn’t want your customers to know you were married to a white woman?”
“Yeah, but that’s just business. Some sisters get offended when they find out I sold out, and they take their business elsewhere.”
“Oh, so you think you sold out by marrying a white woman?”
“Yes. Uh, I mean no. It’s just that sisters don’t wanna do business with a brother who’s married to a white woman.” He was confusing me, and I was getting angry because it seemed so easy for him to do.
“I don’t understand. What’s more important? Your wife, or a few prejudiced women that won’t buy their hair care products from you because you married outside your race?”
“Doc, you’re black. You know how it is.” I shrugged my shoulders, hoping for some sympathy.
“No, Kyle. I don’t know how it is. And whether I’m black or not has nothing to do with it. Especially since my wife happens to be white, too. You have a problem with your wife being white, Kyle. And I think we need to come up with a plan to deal with it.”
“Doc, that can’t be right. I love my wife.” Everything he was saying about me was scaring me.
“Well, Kyle, you can always get a second opinion. But you said yourself that you no longer see your wife as a woman, but as a white woman.” He was killing me with my own words.
“I didn’t mean that, Doc.”
He looked at me with a doubtful expression.
“At least I didn’t mean it that way. Did I?” I must have looked stupid.
He looked at his watch, then at me. “You’ve gotta make a decision. Either you’re going to get some help or you’re not. Go home and talk to your wife. Give me a call in a few days.”
“Okay, Doc.” I walked out of that office feeling much worse than when I walked in. Could this man really be right about me?
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