Champagne Life (35 page)

“Sorry for what?”

“For stealing my boyfriend!”

“He was never your boyfriend,” I shouted back. “He was a decent guy and you cheated on him. And if you remember, I had a crush on him first, so technically you stole him from me.”

“Oh, that's right,” she said. “I'm the bad guy.”

“Okay, you want me to say I'm sorry? I'm sorry he fell in love with me, someone who actually loved him back.”

“You bitch!”

“Girls!”

“In fact,” I continued. “You should apologize to me for giving me hell all these years when all I did was fall in love. You're the one who deserted me when I needed you the most. I've always hated you for that.”

“So you get back at me by marrying my boyfriend?”

“HE WASN'T YOUR BOYFRIEND!” I shook my head. This
girl was clueless. “This has nothing to do with some guy fifteen years ago. It's about you and me and you broke that. Even before Derrick, you treated me like dirt, like I didn't matter, and now, years later, you still treat me like dirt under the guise of being angry over some boy from years ago. Trust me. If it wasn't Derrick, you'd have some other excuse to hate me.”

Cara always had something to say, but not now. For once, I silenced her.

She rolled her eyes and huffed. “Oh, please.”

I looked over at Mom, who was standing in the corner of the kitchen. Her expression was a combination of shock, horror and sadness. “I should've done better,” she said. “I should've gotten you both together when you were younger and I didn't. It's my fault you both are so angry with each other.”

I came over and wrapped my arms around her. “You did an excellent job. Cara and I will work this out, you'll see. It's going to take some time, but we will work this out. I promise.” I looked back at my sister, sitting at the kitchen table with her arms folded like a pouty schoolgirl. “Right, Cara?”

She mumbled an unconvincing, “Sure.”

“See?” I told Mom. “Everything will be fine.”

I was still embracing Mom, trying to calm her down when the doorbell rang. It rang a second and third time. I turned to Cara, who was still sitting at the table. “You gonna get that?”

She sucked her teeth and hopped up from the table, clicking her stilettos all the way to the front door. A few seconds later, she barged back into the kitchen. “Your fresh meat is here.”

When Jeremy entered into the kitchen and saw all of us, his face beamed. “Good. I'm glad you're all here.” He was breathing hard, beads of sweat dewing on his forehead. He grabbed my hand and led me toward the center of the kitchen. He took a deep
breath and finally said, “I love you, Naomi. I haven't made a secret out of that. You mean the world to me and I trust that you want to make me as happy as I want to make you. You're the one for me, and when a man finally realizes that, he wants to scoop up the woman of his dream and make her his.”

“What are you doing, Jeremy?” I asked, concerned.

“I'm doing what I need to do.” He took in another deep breath. “I love you, Naomi. That's why I'm asking for your hand in marriage.” He reached into his back pocket and produced a small black box. He held it up under my nose and asked, “Naomi, will you make me the happiest man in the world and be my wife?”

I looked at my mother, then I glanced at my sister, who sat at the kitchen table with a smirk on her face.

“Congratulations, sister dear. You are the first woman I know who collects husbands like she's collecting stamps.” She got up and walked out.

T
he entire car ride home, I was so angry I could barely even look at Jeremy. When we had pulled into the rest stop in Garner, North Carolina, Jeremy kept asking what he'd done wrong. I simply glared at him and cut my eyes. When we stopped for gas in Baltimore, he practically begged me to tell him what was wrong. At that point, I was able to mumble an irate, “Are you kidding me?” That was the extent of our conversation, up until now. I had let my rage fester inside for the entire trip home, but as we stepped into the house, I was ready to let him have it.

“If you ever pull some shit like that again, I will kill you.” I heard the trembling in my tone.

“I don't get why you're so mad.”

“You have embarrassed me with your phony proposal. Everyone knew it was bullshit—including me.”

“I love you and I want to marry you. What's the problem?”

“The problem is,” I took time to steady my voice, “you're only proposing to keep me on a leash. You don't want to marry me and, if you haven't noticed, I'm already married.” In case he still didn't get it, I threw up my hand and flashed my ring finger. “See? Still married!”

“I do want to marry you and yes, I know you're still married, but you're getting a divorce.”

“Stop pushing me. Let me conclude my first relationship before I enter into another one.”

“Enter? I thought we were already well into our relationship. You said you were only waiting for the divorce papers to come through. Speaking of which—” He walked over toward the small antique table I kept the mail on and began rifling through the stack of envelopes. “Where are the divorce papers?” He went through one stack and tossed the envelopes onto the hardwood floor. He picked up another stack and began rifling through those. “You said he told you he was sending them, so where are they?”

“Stop it!” I told him. “This is not your house. You have no right to go through my things.”

He set down the mail stack in his hand. “Oh, I forgot. This is you and your husband's house. Outsiders aren't welcomed.”

“It's not even like that.”

“How is it then?”

“Why are you making this so difficult for me?”

“For you?” he asked. “What about me? I fell in love with you the day you started working at the bank, but I stayed away. You were married and, aside from that, you hated my guts.”

“I didn't hate you. I thought you were an egotistical jerk.”

“And that's better?”

I was relieved when he cracked a smile. I never wanted to hurt him, but I was in a weird place right now. Unfortunately, he was caught smack dab in the middle of my marital chaos. I blamed myself for that.

“I get it,” he said. “I pushed too hard. You're not ready.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

“I don't know about you,” he said. “But all this relationship crap
has made me hungry. I'd go buy us something to eat, but I spent all my money on the ring.”

I waited for him to laugh before I cracked a smile. I was so thankful that he was no longer angry. I needed more time to sort it all out. Everything came at me so quickly in such a short span of time, my marriage ending, pregnancy and now Jeremy. It was too much. I needed to breathe.

Jeremy pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and opened it up. “I need to get some money from the ATM. You relax. I'll be back in a few with something to eat. Chinese good? Oh wait, is that too spicy for a woman in your condition?”

“Chinese is fine.”

He walked to the front door and I followed. Before he walked out, he turned and said to me, “I'm holding on to this ring. I'll wait for you and the babies until the day I die.”

W
hile Jeremy was gone, I took a long, hot bath. I stepped out of the tub and looked into the mirror, trying to imagine a burgeoning belly. I twisted to the left and turned to the right, inspecting my profile. According to the doctor, I was almost two months' pregnant. I was beginning to show. I ran my fingers up and down, over the tiny bulge in my lower belly. This wasn't the first time I entertained the idea of “fixing” this with one quick trip to the doctor, but then I'd remember being seventeen and the pain of an abortion, physically, but more so mentally and emotionally. I decided to keep these babies, even if I had to raise them by myself. I had no job, no husband and was quickly running out of money. I no longer wanted to count on DeShaun to pay my bills. I needed to do it myself, then I would cut ties from him completely. I had finally made my choice; I was divorcing DeShaun, and Jeremy and I would start a family together. It scared me thinking about it.

When I heard the key in the front lock, I quickly threw on a pair cotton pajama pants and my favorite tank. “Thank goodness you're back,” I said, heading for the front door. “Please tell me you brought back sweet and sour chicken.”

When I got to the door, I was surprised to see DeShaun, not Jeremy. He was holding a bouquet of red roses.

“I didn't know you were back yet,” he said. “I was going to surprise you.”

“You have to leave,” I told him. “You shouldn't have come.”

He handed me the roses, but when I didn't take them, he let them drop to his side. “I need to talk to you, Mimi. I am so sorry for what we're going through. It should've never gotten to this point.”

“You have to leave,” I said again, this time with a little more authority. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

He gave me the once over. “You look good.”

Was he not hearing me? “DeShaun, I—”

“Let me say this and I'll leave. I promise.”

“Fine. Hurry.”

“We both made mistakes, but we can work on getting us back, Mimi. We had so much there. I'll even go to counseling if that's what it takes.” He took a step toward me. “We owe it to ourselves to at least try, don't you think?”

I looked into his hopeful eyes and was thankful that he didn't hate me anymore, but getting back together didn't really seem like an option. If we could go back, before we made that immoral fateful decision that we both knew was wrong, I wasn't even sure the outcome wouldn't be the same. Going back to what we were was impossible. We had said and done too much.

“We tried, DeShaun. We loved each other. We would've died for each other, but that wasn't enough.”

“Don't let us go, Mimi. We can work this out.”

It hurt my heart to see him defeated like this. It hurt me even more to see our marriage defeated. “I wish we hadn't done some of the things we did or said some of the things we said,” I told him. “But it happened. We can forgive, but we'll never forget.”

“It doesn't have to be like that, Mimi. We can create a new chapter, a happy one that exposes our mistakes and helps us come back.”

“Things are different, DeShaun. We're not the same people. I've started seeing someone and we're trying to make it work.”

“That doesn't matter.” He took a step closer. “It'll never work with anyone else. You know that. Baby, please?”

“You won't be saying that when you hear what I have to say,” I told him. “Trust me, things
have
changed.”

“What are you talking about?”

I shook my head. “I can't do this now. You've got to go. We'll talk tomorrow.”

He reached over and grabbed my hand. “When tomorrow?”

“I don't know.” I forced my hand from his, took him by the shoulders, and began rushing him toward the door. “I will call you. I promise, but you have to leave now.”

“Wait.” He turned around. “Who is this guy you're seeing anyway?”

“Just go, please.”

Right on cue, Jeremy walked through the front door with two large bags of Chinese takeout in his hands. He was fumbling with the lock, so he didn't see us standing in the foyer right away. “That rain is really coming down,” he said. “Luckily, I brought the umbrella, or I would've been soaked.” He set the umbrella down and shut the door. He looked up and saw DeShaun first. Then he looked at me. “What the fuck is going on?”

“DeShaun just came over and I told him he had to go,” I said. “Everything is cool.”

“It's cool, huh?” Jeremy took two steps toward us. “So why the hell is he here?”

“Wait a minute,” DeShaun said. “This is
my
house you're walking into. I need to be asking you who the fuck you are, walking up in to
my
spot like you own the damn place. Look at you. You got my key and everything.”

Jeremy slammed the bags onto the hall table, keeping his eyes on DeShaun. “That ain't all I got that was yours.”

“What?” DeShaun took a step toward him and squared up. “What did you say?”

“Jeremy,” I said, “everything is cool. Just relax. I'm handling this.”

DeShaun laughed. “Oh, yeah. I thought I recognized your corny face. Man, you couldn't wait 'til I was out of the picture before you snuck in the back door like the snake you are.”

“I didn't have to wait long, did I?”

“You also don't have to wait long for this beat down you're about to get, if you don't get outta my face.”

“DeShaun!, Jeremy! Stop it!” I yelled. “This isn't a who-has-the-biggest-balls contest. Knock it off!” I turned to DeShaun. “Please, just go.”

“Yeah, go,” Jeremy chimed in. “You ain't wanted around here. You fucked up and you're out.”

“Stop it, Jeremy!”
Why wasn't anyone listening to me?

DeShaun balled up his fists. “Says who? You?”

They stared each other down. DeShaun, at least four inches taller than Jeremy, looked down on him like a ferocious lion about to tear apart his prey. Jeremy wasn't backing down either. He stood toe-to-toe with DeShaun, staring up at him like he was about to enter a championship cage battle. DeShaun would probably tear Jeremy apart with his bare hands, but, to Jeremy's credit, he would come back at DeShaun with every bit of strength he had.

I grabbed DeShaun's arm and pulled him toward the door. “Go before it gets worse. We'll talk some other time.”

DeShaun pointed to Jeremy as he headed toward the door. “You are a lucky man, today. That don't mean I'm not gonna find you.”