What's Done In the Dark (6 page)

When I got pregnant with Tahiry, just two months after we started sleeping together, we decided to do what was right—and that had been the story of my life ever since.

I SHOOK AWAY THE MEMORY.
I needed to focus on the positive and stop thinking about what-ifs and what could’ve been. This was the life God had given me. It was time that I learned to appreciate it.

I lay back on the couch as I made all kinds of mental promises of how things were going to change as soon as Steven got home. I could be happy as a wife and a mother if I took my mother’s advice and found something outside my home that gave me purpose. Yeah, I thought. I had a good life. And getting an outside life was
all I needed to get myself back on track.

9

Felise

I DON’T KNOW HOW I
got down the hallway, down the elevator, and out of the hotel to my sister’s apartment, but here I was, in her living room, trying desperately to pull myself together. I was pacing back and forth across her Berber carpet. The tears hadn’t stopped coming.

“Okay, would you relax?” Fran said.

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one that committed a crime,” I said frantically. I was
so
not a criminal. I’d forgotten to pay for a bracelet when I was fifteen, and I had an anxiety attack until I got my mom to take me back to the store to pay for it. How in the world did I think I’d be able to live with leaving a dead man without reporting it? “I’m such a lowlife,” I moaned.

“Oh, stop being dramatic,” Fran said. “What crime did you commit? I don’t think having a lethal kitty is against the law.”

I stopped and stared at her. That was not what happened between Steven and me. “This isn’t the time for jokes.”

“Okay, okay,” Fran said, raising her hands apologetically. “Sorry.”

I fell down onto her sofa. “I just can’t believe this.”

Fran shook her head. “Me either. Because I can’t understand how Dolly Do-Right,” she said, using the nickname she had given me after the bracelet incident, “would do something so scandalous.”

That had always been a source of contention between Fran and me. I was the perfect one. The one who always did what she was supposed to, and was always where she was supposed to be. Even our older sister, the ultra-religious Mavis, got in more trouble than I did. But Fran was the wild one, and our parents—God rest their souls—never let us forget who they preferred: me.

“I can’t believe I did it either.” I sighed. “I was just so mad at Greg for forgetting our anniversary, and I was so sick and tired of being neglected, and then I bumped into Steven at the bar, and he was mad at Paula, and we both had been drinking and . . . and . . .” I buried my face in my hands. “What have I done?”

Fran leaned back and inhaled. “Well, I’m not surprised that you finally stepped out on Greg. The way he neglects you, I’m surprised you hadn’t done it already. But I just can’t believe you did it with Steven.”

“I’ve got to come clean,” I said with finality. I didn’t have any other option. I couldn’t carry this guilt around.

“And why would you do something stupid like that?” Fran asked, perplexed. “You cleaned up the place, right?”

“Yes, but I should have called for help.”

“Why? You said yourself that he was dead. He was still
going to be dead whether you reported it or not, so why should you get in trouble, too?”

We were interrupted by the doorbell. I froze as images of police bursting in to take me into custody flashed in my head.

I jumped up. “Who is that?”

“Calm down. It’s just Mavis.” Fran got up and headed toward the door.

Now I really was ready to run. My older sister was as bad as the police. Since our parents died in a car crash when I was in college, Mavis had taken over the role of mother and, most of the time, had taken it way too far. “Mavis? Why didn’t you tell me she was coming over here?”

“Because I didn’t know you were coming over. You were supposed to be going home, remember? Mavis was already on her way over to pick up some money I owe her. You know she’s like Tony Soprano when it comes to getting her money back.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. “Don’t tell her,” I said. “I can’t take her judging me.”

Fran put her hand to her mouth. “Oops, too late.”

“Ugh, do you have to tell everybody everything?”

“I was on the phone with her when you called, and she wanted to know what was wrong. I tried to tell her nothing, but she didn’t believe me. I told you, she’s Tony Soprano. She strong-armed me.”

The doorbell rang again, and we heard Mavis’s muffled call. “I hear y’all in there. Open this door!”

Fran shrugged at me, then opened the door.

Mavis didn’t even speak to Fran as she rushed toward
me. She looked so much like my mother it was eerie—full-figured, beautiful smooth skin, and a head full of naturally curly hair. If I didn’t know better, I would think it was my mother coming to be by my side.

I took a step back because my sister had been known to smack me back in the day, and I didn’t need her having any flashbacks. But she just grabbed me and hugged me tightly. “Oh, Lord, Felise. What have you gotten yourself into?”

I couldn’t help it. Being in my sister’s arms felt safe, even though I knew I was far from that. “I messed up, Mavis,” I cried.

“Yes, you did, baby girl,” she said, stroking my hair, “but it’s going to be okay.” She pulled back and examined me. “So, what did the police say?”

I looked over at Fran and didn’t respond.

“See, my mouth isn’t that big. I didn’t tell her everything.”

Mavis’s eyes grew wide. “Tell me what? What is there to tell?”

Neither Fran nor I said a word. Mavis’s hands went to her hips. “I know somebody better get to talking.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “What did the police say?”

“I–I . . .”

“She left without reporting it, okay?” Fran said.

“Excuse me?” Mavis asked in horror. “You left the scene of a crime?”

“Mavis, leave her alone,” Fran snapped. “There was no crime. He died in his sleep. I got this handled.”

Mavis threw up her hands in exasperation. “You don’t need to be listening to Fran. You know she got the devil in her.”

Fran gave Mavis the hand. “You better go somewhere with that, or you’re about to see the devil rear its ugly head.
”

“So, you really think I should tell that I was there, Mavis?” I asked.

“Girl, don’t listen to Mavis,” Fran said. “Tell for what?”

Mavis sat down next to me. She had a way of adding things up quick, and I could see that turning myself in was no longer her first option. “I can’t tell you what to do, Felise,” she replied, taking my hand. “I’d never be in that situation because no way I’d get involved with my best friend’s husband—”

“Way to make her feel better, Mavis,” Fran said, cutting her off.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Mavis clarified. “What I’m saying is I can’t tell you how I would react, but I can tell you one thing: what’s done in the dark always comes to light.”

“Not always,” Fran said. “Because nobody still knows about that time you and Elijah Reynolds—”

“Fran, would you shut up,” Mavis snapped. “This isn’t about me.” She turned her guns back on the guilty party. “Whatever you do, sis, you need to take to your knees and repent.”

“Okay, on that note, I need to go,” I said, rising. I felt bad enough as it was. The last thing I needed was Mavis preaching to me.

“See,” Fran said, “you always bringing God into the equation. Now you got her all spooked.”

“Honey, God is always in the equation,” Mavis replied, “whether I bring Him or not.”

I knew how this was going to go, and I couldn’t do the two of them bickering right then. That’s all they’ve been doing for as long as they’ve been alive. Usually, I played the peacemaker, but I was so not in the mood.

“Okay,” I said. “Both of you are right. Mavis, I need to pray. And Fran, I do need to pull it together.”

They both nodded their heads in agreement.

“So, do you want to tell me how you ended up in the hotel room with Steven?” Mavis asked.

I shook my head. I wasn’t standing for Mavis’s opinion on what happened between us.

“She just finally got fed with the neglectful husband of hers,” Fran replied.

Fran liked Greg, but she’d been telling me for years that I deserved better. She couldn’t stand his obsessive ways and how he devoted so much time to work.

“So how long have you and Steven been having an affair?” Mavis asked.

“We weren’t having an affair,” I protested. “We both happened to be in the same place. We both were upset at our spouses. We had been drinking.”

Mavis tsked. “Unh-huh, that devil’s juice will do it every time.”

Fran rolled her eyes as I continued. “I tried to turn away once I got to the room, but it’s like this little voice was pushing me forward.”

“Unh-huh. Satan has a little voice,” Mavis said.

“Okay, Pope Mavis,” Fran interjected. She turned to me. “Seriously, pray about it, ask for forgiveness, and move on. You’re not doing anyone any good if you keep beating yourself up about it.”

“I agree,” Mavis said sternly. “I’m not going to tell you what you need to do, but you need to come clean.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Fran said.

“You know it’s the right thing to do,”
Mavis continued. “You don’t need me or Fran to tell you that.” She patted my arm. “But whatever you do, I’m by your side, okay? Even if it’s seeing you through divorce court and your trial.”

“Mavis!” Fran exclaimed.

Mavis quickly apologized. But she was right. That’s exactly where I’d be if Greg ever found out.

10

Paula

I’D FINALLY GONE TOO FAR.
In all our years of marriage, Steven had never gotten so mad that he’d stayed out all night, let alone all the next day. But as I rolled over and saw my husband’s untouched side of the bed, I realized that’s exactly what had happened.

After spending the day with the kids, I’m come into my room to lie down, hoping Steven’s warm body would wake me up as he eased into bed next to me. He’d apologize. I’d apologize. Then I’d show my husband how much I really loved him.

I threw back the covers and stood up. It was almost ten p.m. I couldn’t believe I’d been asleep all evening. I eased downstairs, hoping that Steven had come in and didn’t want to wake me. But to my dismay, the living room was empty, the space where he normally dropped his keys was clear, and when I opened the garage door, my heart sank when I realized that his car still was AWOL.

I fell back against the wall in
the hallway. I couldn’t take the suspense anymore. I had the strangest feeling in my gut that I had truly messed up this time, and I didn’t know how to make it right.

I said a small prayer for God to deliver my husband home. I’d adopt a new attitude permanently. My mom was right. I had been such a jerk, and the blowup I had was completely uncalled for.

I was just about to pick up the phone to call him again when my mom appeared in the kitchen entryway.

“Oh, hey, Mom,” I said dejectedly. “What’s going on?”

“Heard some movement in here and came to see what was going on, since I knew the kids weren’t here.”

“Where are the kids?” I asked.

“Tahiry went over Liz’s so they can practice for their cheer competition. Rodney came and got the boys and took them to a movie,” she said, referring to Steven’s cousin, who often took the kids. “I figured it was okay and a way to get them out the house. He’ll bring them back early in the morning on his way to work. And Tahiry will be back whenever you go get her.”

I nodded, grateful for her making the arrangements.

“Are you okay? Is Steven home yet?” my mom asked.

I fell down in one of the seats at the kitchen table. “Mama, I really messed up,” I cried. “Steven has never stayed away this long.”

“Maybe he was really upset. I mean, the threat of divorce is pretty major.”

“But I didn’t mean that. I was just angry,” I confessed. “I was having a serious I-hate-my-life-moment and thinking things would be better without him.”

My mom patted my hand sympathetically.
“Yeah, that’s usually the way things work. Everyone always thinks the grass is greener on the other side. But it’s not. You got a good man, honey, and you have to realize that before it’s too late.”

“Steven wouldn’t go anywhere, would he?” I don’t know why, but I no longer believed that.

“Baby, a man can take only so much. When he doesn’t feel loved in his own home, it’s just a matter of time before he seeks love somewhere else.”

I buried my face in my hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

My mom was quiet for a minute, then gently said, “Well, I was talking to this lady at bingo and I think you’re suffering from postpartum depression.”

I cocked my head at this unexpected remark. “Really, Mom?”

“Yes, really. I mean, you were unhappy before, but it seemed to go to a whole different level after the twins were born.”

That reminded me all over again of my fight with Steven. “I know, Mama. I love them, I really do, but I can’t shake this.”
Postpartum depression?
I had never thought about that. But it would definitely explain my mood swings.

“You gotta find a way to shake it,” my mom said. “Maybe even see someone professionally. Or go to your primary care doctor. I’m sure they got some pills for it.” She turned her attention to a picture of our family, which was displayed prominently on our refrigerator. “And explain it to your husband. I’m sure he’ll understand and even help you through this.”

I nodded, praying that she was right.

“Just get some rest. I’m sure you’re still tired, so go lay
back down. That was a pretty heated argument, so just give Steven a minute. You got a good man. He’s not going anywhere. You asked the man for a divorce. Maybe he just wants to make you sweat. I’m positive he’ll be home tonight.” My mom kissed my forehead before walking out the room.

I hoped that she was right, but I still needed to talk to someone else. I needed to call the only other person who understood my pain. I picked up the phone and called my best friend