When Saint Goes Marching In (23 page)

“Saint, when things like this happen, you just have to let it play out. Don’t tell her she’s wrong for feeling how she feels. Just keep sticking to your guns and hang in there,” she said encouragingly. “Not to totally switch gears too much, but I have no idea why you haven’t filed charges against this Payton person!”

“Because I don’t want this getting out in the media, I don’t want my family involved in any media attention either due to this and it could ruin my career. It’s not worth it. Plus, the police would probably think it was funny. I’m not exactly the NYC police’s favorite person, nor the LAPD’s. Finally, it’s her word against mine, anyway. No one takes shit like this seriously, especially someone like me – a professed proud former ho. And I’m a man, a larger than average man at that. No one would see me as a victim. I don’t even see myself like that really, not in the way people would think. It’s hard to explain.” Saint looked away angrily. “I guess I deserve this since I broke so many women’s hearts over the years. Payback is a bitch. I did the shit I did, feeling that because I was honest with everyone, that made it OK. It didn’t, Latrice. I knew some women I had dated were falling in love with me and I didn’t care. I was reckless and selfish. I should’ve said ‘No’ a lot more. Payton is one of those people I hurt and she got revenge. I should’ve known someone would eventually come after me for fucking them over.” Saint pounded his right hand into his left palm and his mind raced. Anger kept brewing inside him – mostly directed at himself.

“Saint, you can’t blame yourself for what she did. She was dead wrong!” Latrice said.

“Yeah, she was wrong for putting drugs in my drink and for taking sex that I didn’t want to give her but she wasn’t wrong to be angry. Payton was my patient. That is how I met her, Latrice. I knew better but I couldn’t stop myself. She kept flirting and coming on to me during our sessions. At first I laughed it off but then I just gave in because I did find her very attractive. I fucked up, big time.”

Saint quickly reflected on his sessions with Payton.
She had daddy issues and was in back-to-back abusive relationships, despite her higher education and intelligence. She was fucked up mentally and sexually and she knew it. She had ex-boyfriends that beat the shit out of her, just like her father had. That’s why she came to me in the first place. She wanted to know why she was the way she was. She associated pain with love. She was used for her beauty; no one valued her mind or what was inside. She is completely out of her mind and rarely takes responsibility for her actions. I should have kept it professional but as usual, I let my dick do the talking for me and now my dick is probably taking me to divorce court for some shit it didn’t willingly do.

Latrice shook her head and looked at him with concern on her face. He hated himself. He knew she could taste that anger, as if it were floating in the air right past her, but there was no way to take that sort of self-loathing away. It just hung there, clinging to any ounce of dignity he may have left and devouring it whole.

“All I could think while Payton was…you know…was how my Queen would be crushed by this. I waited so long to get married until I found the right one and now it could’ve all been in vain. Once Payton sent the text message, I knew it was over. I knew she had somehow alerted Xenia and once I heard her approaching…Latrice, once I heard my wife’s footsteps… It’s bad enough I would’ve had to tell her what happened, but for her to actually
see
it? I have single handedly ruined my marriage. You’re right; there is no one else like Xenia. You only find someone like that once, there are no second chances, and there is no second prize for me. I want the first prize! I can’t have her though, because my past caught up with me and broke my Queen’s heart.”

Saint prided himself on his emotional strength but this time moisture welled in his eyes. He’d never been this much of a wreck in all his life.

For he’d lost Xenia – what else mattered?

“Do you know how I can get her back?” Saint asked desperately, his voice cracking. “Do you have any advice because I’ve run out of answers.” He shrugged. “I’m the counselor, the therapist, and I don’t know how to get my wife back. How ironic is that?” Saint smiled as the tears continued to flow.

Latrice was crying now. She stepped closer and held him tightly against her.

“I don’t know what it will take to get her back, but I do know you have to keep fighting for her. You have to fight for you, for your sons and for your marriage.” She gave him a searching look. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Saint. That has to mean something and you can’t let Payton win.”

He knew Latrice had never seen him get so emotional before. Matter of fact, she’d never seen him get emotional at all, ever. He always gave the impression of being unmoved by the most tragic of circumstances.

But he loved Xenia. Being without Xenia changed everything.

“Well, thanks for the food and the chat, Latrice. I really appreciate it.” Saint released her and quickly wiped his eyes with his palm. “Here.” He handed Latrice the Tupperware dish back. “It’ll just go to waste if I take it. I’m not hungry. I’ll give Raphael a call. I better get going.”

He walked off slowly and let the cabs drive past him as he clung to his red bag, his head down, and his heart heavy.

* * *

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Well I’m glad you at least stopped by this time before you left. Typically, you don’t even give me that courtesy,” Saint’s father complained as he stirred his vegetable soup and placed heaping spoonfuls into a wooden bowl.

“Nice to see you too, Dad.” Saint rolled his eyes and leaned back on the seemingly never-been-sat-on living room light blue couch.

Saint’s father sat beside him and sighed. The smell of baked chicken and rice filled the house. Saint turned away and looked on the wall, taking notice of his mother’s photos. Totally void of dust, his father kept the display of photographic memories in pristine condition, almost like it was a shrine. In some ways, it was. Her favorite necklace was looped over the corner of one photo of her and her mother together. He’d lit incense by her photo on every wedding anniversary, and on her birthday. On the anniversary of the day she died, his father would barely speak. He’d visit her grave and spend time there for the majority of the day, in silence. Saint used to wonder what was going on in his head when he’d visit with him. Sometimes Saint would wander off to look at other tombs and try to guess how each person perished. When he started hearing the answers, he stopped visiting the cemetery.

Saint’s father put on his glasses on and looked at him over the rim. “Do you want something to eat? There’s plenty.”

Saint shook his head.

“You don’t look well, son. I was waiting for you to volunteer the information, but you’ve sat here with me for at least thirty minutes and not mentioned one word of it.” He took a large spoonful of the hot soup into his mouth.

“I’m fine,” Saint ground out through his teeth.

His father sighed, set his bowl down and rubbed his palms along his thighs as he looked briefly out the window.

“Saint, I know we’ve had our ups and downs, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know my own son. I know when something is troubling you. You’re quieter and you’re not arguing with me. You
always
argue with me so something must be really wrong.” He laughed a little uneasily.

“Xenia and I are separated,” Saint finally confessed, hating the way it sounded as it rolled off his tongue.

“Do you care to share with me what happened, Saint?”

“Honestly? Not really,” Saint answered dismissively. “I already feel bad enough as it is.”

“Saint, were you unfaithful to her? I know about your reputation and I was hoping you had matured,” his father said sternly.

Saint seethed. “This is
exactly
why I don’t choose to confide in you. You’re too quick to think I’m to blame or that I’ve done something awful.” Saint shook his head. “You love to make me out to be the bad guy, even when I’m not. I love Xenia, so no, I didn’t cheat on her, well, not willingly.”

“What do you mean not willingly? You either are unfaithful or you’re not. There is no gray area here.”

“Yes, there is. I found out that there actually is…the hard way.”

“Unless some woman had her way with you, which I highly doubt, this is black and white, Saint.”

Saint turned to his father, the anger burning through his eyes like red-hot flames.

His father stared at him. “What? How is that possible? You’re a big, strong man! Most guys wouldn’t want to have a physical altercation with you let alone some woman. No woman could make you have sex!”

“It was my drink!” Saint snapped.

“Oh, don’t blame this on the alcohol! Saint, you need to own up to what you’ve done. You cheated on Xenia and now you’re blaming it on being drunk. This just figures! You’re incapable of treating women with respect and with the way you felt about your own mother, I just find this alarming. I have no idea how you became this way. You have children with this woman for goodness sake!” his father yelled. “I should have taken you to mosque more often. Maybe it was something I did or didn’t do. You’re…”

Saint stood up, his entire body trembling. “Are you fuckin’ serious? Your son that you profess to know so well was sexually violated! I was
raped
! There, I said it! Your big strong son that you think this couldn’t happen to got his dick taken and there wasn’t shit I could do about it! Don’t you think I know the difference between being intoxicated and fuckin’ up versus having half a drink, someone slipped something in it and then suddenly I can barely see and can’t walk or move?” Saint’s raised voice echoed throughout the house. “It was an ex-girlfriend of mine. I didn’t want anything to do with her and I’d never cheat on Xenia. You’re acting like you know me but apparently you don’t. You don’t know
shit
about me!” Saint leapt up and headed towards the front door.

His father raced after him, grabbed his arm and turned him around to face him. The two men stared each other down for a few moments.

“I believe you,” his father finally said. “I just needed to see your reaction, to be sure.”

“I don’t give a shit if you believe me or not,” Saint hissed. “Why are you playing games? You should know that what you’re talking about is shit I’d do as a kid. I’ve got no reason to lie to you now. I’m almost forty-three damn years old!”

The older man’s face fell, sadness in his eyes. The lines in his face seemed deeper, darker, and he looked tired. “Saint, it was just hard for me to fathom because, well, you’ve always needed more than one woman, Saint. You were never satisfied.”

 Saint rolled his eyes, “I’m not that same person. Why won’t you listen? I had a successful therapy practice. My career couldn’t be any better. I’m married. I have children that depend on me now. This is not a game! Why would I intentionally fuck up their home life over some pussy? I had sex at home! I wasn’t neglected. Xenia and I were happy. There would be no reason for me to cheat.”

Saint balled his fist. “You have a funny way of making people feel one hundred times worse than they did before they walked through your door.”

His father looked him straight in the eye. “Now you’re back. This is the Saint I know! You’re arguing with me. That means you still care. You still care about your marriage, too. I didn’t mean to upset you but I had to know the truth. I’m sorry about what happened, Saint. No one deserves that. Come sit back down.” He turned and walked back to the couch. He had a seat and waited for his son to come back.

Saint hesitated then returned to his seat.

His father leaned back and crossed his arms over his stomach. “Was it Rohypnol?” his father asked.

“I doubt it. Rohypnol would have had me unconscious. She didn’t want me unconscious, she wanted me to see, hear and feel everything.” Saint sighed. “I went over this countless times. I’m honestly sick of talking about it. At this point, I just want my wife back. That’s what I’m concentrating on.” Saint ran his fingers through his hair and frowned.