Authors: Carl Weber

Married Men (50 page)

BOOK: Married Men

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Life’s not fair, Jay. That’s why you have to make the most of it while you’re here
. I kept thinking about what Wil had said, and he was right. It was time to make the most of my life. As of today, I was going to make a lot of changes in my life. Most of those changes weren’t gonna be popular with my friends and family, but that was their problem, not mine. I was tired of living my life for other people. It was time to live my life for me and make me happy. And what was going to make me happy was being with Tracy.

Speaking of Tracy, I knew she was gonna be pissed at me. Not that I could blame her. Hell, I’d stood her up on her birthday without explanation. But when I told her everything about Ma’s death and that I was leaving Kenya and moving in with her, I was sure she would forgive me for everything. That’s just how she was. God, I loved that woman so much.

“Yo, black! She ain’t there,” Tyrell, one of the drug dealers across the street, yelled. I’d just pulled in front of Tracy’s place and was stepping out of the car. It was Saturday night, almost twenty-four hours after I was supposed to pick her up, but better late than never. I walked across the street and touched knuckles with Tyrell and his boys. For young brothers they seemed all right. At least they kept an eye on things when I wasn’t around. I didn’t like the fact that they were selling drugs across the street from my lady, but all I could do was talk to them about it. And the truth is, they were making so much money they weren’t really listening to me, just giving me that respect. Besides, they were there way before we arrived.

“Where’d she go? To the store?” I looked down the block to see if I could spot her.

“Nah, she left in a cab a few hours ago. Had a little suitcase and a knapsack on her shoulder like she was goin’ on a trip or somethin’,” Tyrell told me.

“You sure she didn’t come back?” Tyrell turned to his boys, and they all shook their heads.

“Nope, don’t nothin’ go down on this block without us knowin’ it. We out here twenty-four seven.”

“Yeah, I know that. Look, y‘all hold your heads. Aw’ight?”

“No doubt,” I heard them say as I crossed the street, heading to Tracy’s apartment. Tyrell ran up next to me as I walked.

“Yo, black, that your wifey or your shorty on the side? ’Cause she
is finnnnne.”

“That’s my wifey,” I growled. “I’ll kill a nigga over her. Know what I mean?” I gave Tyrell my most threatening look.

“No doubt. Keep it real, kid. But if that’s your wifey, why you treating her like she your shorty on the side?”

“What you mean by that?”

“If that’s your wifey, why you got her livin’ in a place like this? She a queen, not a chickenhead. You don’t even come by that much to check on her. ’Cept at night for a few hours. If that was my wifey, I’d be with her twenty-four seven.” I glanced at Tyrell. For a young boy he was pretty smart, and too damn observant for his age. But he was right about one thing. She was my queen, and I had to get Tracy out of this dump.

“Yeah, well, we movin’ out next week.”

“I heard that.” Tyrell and I knocked knuckles and he ran back to his partners. I let myself into the apartment and found a note that Tracy had left for me.

Dear Jay,
It Saturday afternoon and I’m about to leave. I’m going over to my roommate Mia’s house in the Bronx, if you even care. I can’t believe you stood me up on my birthday. I swear I’ve never felt so alone in my entire life. I think we both need to think about where this relationship is going. Especially me. I’m starting to think my parents were right about you and me. I’ll see you on Sunday. Hopefully we’ll talk then, if you ’re there.
Luv you????

Tracy

What the hell did she mean by those question marks? Damn. All of a sudden things weren’t working out the way I planned. Well, when she got back, I was just going to have to talk to her and explain to her how much I love her. After I read the letter again, I moped around the apartment for a while, then I wrote Tracy a little note letting her know why I stood her up, then got in the car and headed back to my house. There was no need for me to stick around, especially since she wouldn’t be back home for another day. Besides, I wanted to spend the day with my kids before dropping the bomb on Kenya that I was leaving her. They’d come home early after I called her parents’ place and told her about Ma Jackson’s death. I had a feeling that once I told her I was leaving, she wasn’t gonna let me see the kids at all.

When I pulled into the driveway, I got a little chill as I got out of the car. The last time that happened, Tracy’s pops was sitting around my house, talking to
my
wife, drinking my liquor, waiting to kick
my
ass. I wasn’t about to go against my intuition again, so I decided to go in through the back door. That way I could sneak up on any unwanted surprises that might be waiting for me. But the only thing I found was Kenya and the girls sitting at the dinner table. I still felt uneasy, though, especially when I made eye contact with Kenya. She had this cold look about her like she was up to something.

“Daddy!” my daughter Tiffany yelled, jumping out of her seat and into my arms. She kissed me, and I hugged her tightly. I was going to miss her running into my arms every day after work. I was gonna miss it a lot.

“How’s Allen?” Kenya asked. She started to make me a plate.

“I don’t know. He took off before I even got to speak to him. Rose called Kyle’s and said he showed up at the house sometime this morning. We’re gonna go see him tomorrow morning.”

I sat down and ate dinner with my family for what would probably be the last time. It was awkward, and I dreaded talking to Kenya about family issues like who was going to take the girls to Sunday school and was there enough money in the checking account to fix the gutters. Somehow I would get through it after dinner. When we finished eating, Kenya did the dishes while I put the girls to bed.

I’d already put LaShawn in her crib and had read Tiffany a story. I was about to turn out the light when Tiffany said, “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, Tiffany.” I turned out the light sadly, thinking this was the last time I was going to do this. I was about to walk out of the room when Kenya scared the shit out of me.

“You love me, too?” she challenged. She was right in my face. “Well, do you?”

Instinctively I said, “Of course I do.”

“Then kiss me like you do.” She pulled me out into the hallway and shut the door to the girls’ room. She wrapped her hands around my waist and looked up at me, waiting. I knew exactly what she was up to. She wanted me to make love to her, something I hadn’t done in almost two months and wasn’t about to do now. Unfortunately, there was no way around giving her a kiss. I lowered my head and gave her a quick peck on the lips.

“A real kiss, Jay,” she ordered, pulling me in closer. I sighed, but this time I gave her what she wanted. She smiled when I finished. “I want some Jay, I want some right now.”

“Not now, Kenya. I’ve gotta call Allen. Why don’t we wait till later?” I tried to walk away but she held on to my waist.

“What’s your excuse gonna be then?” She rolled her eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I knew what she was talking about but I tried to play dumb.

“What do you think it means, Jay? What, you gonna have a headache later? Not gonna be feeling well? Too depressed over what happened to Ma Jackson? Too tired? What’s it gonna be this time?” Damn, she had all my excuses down pat.

“Why you trippin’, Kenya? I told you I’d give you some later.”

“Why’m I trippin’?” She threw her hands in the air. “I’m trippin’ because I think my husband’s a homosexual, that’s why. What’s up, Jay? You like dick or what? ’Cause you damn sure don’t like pussy no more.” She placed her hand on her hip and I stared at her with wide eyes.

“Now you know damn well I don’t like dick.” She’d hit a nerve, probably exactly what she intended to do. If there was one thing I hated more than anything in the world, it was when someone challenged my manhood.

“I don’t know shit ’cept you don’t seem to like pussy no more. And if you don’t like pussy, you must like dick. Right, faggot?” She tilted her head sister-girl style, then smirked. I was breathing hard and trying to keep my emotions under control. I knew what she was trying to do. She was trying to get me to prove I was a man. The thing I hated most was that it was working. I was about two seconds away from ripping all her clothes off and showing her exactly what kinda faggot I was.

“I can’t believe I married a fuckin’ fruitcake! So you the pitcher or the catcher, Jay?” She shook her head like she was disgusted.

That was it. I’d had it. I reached over and grabbed her by her blouse, pulling her to me and pushing my lips against hers roughly.

“Get in the room and get your fucking clothes off! I’m gonna show just how much of a faggot I am!”

“Promises, promises,” she smirked at me as I let go of her blouse. She was purposely swaying her round hips as I followed her into our bedroom. When we got in the bedroom, she reached in her purse and pulled out an unopened box of condoms and threw them at me.

“What are these for?” I looked at her strangely. In the seven years we’d known each other, she’d never asked me to wear a condom before.

“I left my pills home when I went down to my folks’ house so we have to use these until after my period.” She took off her clothes as she explained.

“Oh.” I removed my shirt.

It was always better to go raw dog, but I was willing to use condoms. Until I found out Tracy was pregnant, we used them all the time. So condoms were no big deal. Plus the last thing I wanted was for Kenya to get pregnant again, especially with me about to leave her. When I walked out that door, I wanted to make a clean break.

When we were both naked, we crawled into the middle of the bed and started kissing passionately like when we first started dating. I decided that if this was going to be the last time we made love, then she was never gonna be able to tell anyone I was gay with a good conscience. As the night went on, things between us got pretty steamy, and to tell the truth, I was more than a little impressed. She wasn’t Tracy, but I have to give credit where credit is due. Kenya was doing her thing. She was throwing moves on me I didn’t even know she had, and by the time it was all over, I was exhausted and fell asleep right away.

The next morning I didn’t get up until the sun beamed into my room and woke me. My body was still tired and I was still feeling the effects from the night of passion I had with Kenya. Believe it or not, I had no regrets. The sex had been some of the best I’d ever had with her. Might as well go out in style, I guess.

When I opened my eyes, Kenya was standing in the doorway. I glanced over to the clock. It was a little after nine and instinctively I panicked, thinking I was going to be late for work. But then I remembered it was Sunday.

“Hey, what are you doing in jeans? Aren’t you supposed to be taking the girls to Sunday school this morning?” I sat up and stretched, trying to wake up.

“Diane came over and got the girls about an hour ago.” Just the mention of Diane’s name woke me.

“Diane? What was she doing over here?” Anytime Diane came around, I got a little worried. She’d always been a good friend to Kenya, but ever since her and Wil split up, she’d been around way too much for me.

“She took the kids over to her house because I had to help somebody move.”

“Oh, yeah?” I yawned. “Who’s moving?” Kenya hadn’t mentioned anyone moving last night. Then again she had other things on her mind last night. The thought of us making love brought a smile to my face and my manhood to attention.
What the fuck,
with the kids gone and Tracy not coming home till this evening, one more for the road wouldn’t hurt. Unfortunately Kenya had other ideas and killed mine with a quickness.

“You wanna know who’s moving, Jay?” she smirked. “You are. You’re moving.” I was about to laugh but her facial expression was so serious I couldn’t. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she knew I was leaving her for Tracy.

“What‘ya mean I’m movin’? I’m not movin’.” I looked at her like she was crazy. “What’s going on, Kenya? Why you actin’ like this?”

“You wanna know why I’m acting like this, Jay? ’Cause you ain’t shit, that’s why.” Her demeanor was calm—not at all what you would expect from a woman who sounded like she was kicking me out my own house. She walked over to my dresser and picked up a neatly folded pair of pants and shirt, handing them to me. I stared at the clothes, then at her. “It took me half the night, but I packed up all your shit, and it’s waiting for you on the front porch.”

“You’re not serious. You can’t be.” I chuckled, trying to lighten her mood, but it didn’t help.

“Oh yes I am, and I don’t see a damn thing funny.” She folded her arms over her chest with an attitude. “Now get dressed and get out.”

“Wh-what about last night? You trying to say that last night wasn’t shit?”

BOOK: Married Men

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