Every Reasonable Doubt (26 page)

S
ince our adoption talk or, I should say, our non-talk, things had been pretty strained between Jefferson and me. Our lack of time together only added to the distance between us. On most nights, by the time I arrived home, Jefferson was already asleep, and on most mornings, he was up and out of the door before I rolled over and noticed that he was gone.

The day after my dinner with Neddy, it was close to midnight when I stuck my key in the door. We’d spent that entire Saturday prepping for the opening of the defense’s case-in-chief on Monday. I walked into the den and dumped my briefcase and purse on the dining room table. I clicked on the light and browsed through the mail. Both the gas and electric bills were in pink envelopes, which meant they were final notices. It was my job to pay the bills from our joint account. I’d never hear the end of it if they shut off our utilities for nonpayment. I stuck the bills in the side pocket of my purse. I would have to find some time to pay them online.

Although I was positively bushed, my brain was too wired to let me sleep. I headed into the kitchen to make some hot chocolate, but halfway there I backtracked and decided to take off my clothes and slip into one of Jefferson’s T-shirts first.

When I tiptoed into the bedroom, I was surprised that Jefferson wasn’t sprawled across the bed. I peeked into the spare bedroom, which doubled as an office. He wasn’t there either. I went back to the living room, peered out of the front picture window and noticed that his truck was not parked in the driveway or in front of the house. I was so tired I hadn’t even noticed when I drove up. It wasn’t in the garage either.

It was after midnight.
Where the hell was he?

I picked up the phone to call him on his cell. When I heard his voice mail come on, I hung up. Maybe he was mad about my being out so late. He was probably staying out on purpose to make a point. I definitely had to make this up to him once the trial was over. Maybe we’d take a vacation. He’d been talking about going back to Montego Bay, where we’d spent our honeymoon.

I headed back toward the kitchen and decided to make coffee rather than hot chocolate. I needed the caffeine to help me stay up until Jefferson got home. I just hoped he wasn’t somewhere getting pissy drunk. The thought of him out on the highway as much as he’d been drinking lately scared me to death. But I refused to start imagining the worst.

When I stepped up to the cabinet to grab the coffee, I noticed a pink Post-it note stuck to the door. It bore Jefferson’s awful handwriting. I felt a sense of dread even before I read it.

I removed the note and purposely sat down at the kitchen table before looking at it. The message was short and succinct:

V—
Decided I needed some space, so I’m moving out for a while. I doubt you’ll even notice I’m gone. J.

Without thinking about it, I balled up the note and threw it across the room. It bounced off the wall and fell into the trash can. I sat there for a long time, feeling like somebody had kicked me in the stomach.

I marched back into the bedroom, without my coffee, and climbed into bed. My huge, empty, king-size bed. Since marrying Jefferson, I had never slept in it alone. Not even one night. It didn’t feel right. I couldn’t stay there. I got up and walked into the den and turned on the TV.

I couldn’t believe Jefferson had moved out. Things hadn’t been
that
bad between us. Yes, I was preoccupied with Tina Montgomery’s trial, but things weren’t so awful that he had to leave without even telling me.

I picked up the phone to call Special, but I could hear her words echoing in my head. Special would no doubt read me the riot act. She had been nagging me for weeks to spend more time with my husband. I didn’t want to hear that refrain again so I dropped the receiver back into the cradle.

Neddy would have been far more sympathetic, but she had her own troubles to deal with right now. A dead husband and the task of defending the woman who may’ve killed him. I didn’t have the heart to wake her up in the middle of the night.

As I sat there staring at the TV screen, it took far longer than I would have expected for the pools of water to finally form in my eyes.

B
y nine o’clock the next morning, I had called Jefferson three times and he had yet to call back. I was about to call him again when the phone rang. After firmly rejecting my suggestion to come home so we could talk, he agreed to join me for a late lunch.

I was the first to arrive at the Denny’s off Wilshire Boulevard near a construction site where Jefferson was doing some electrical work. I couldn’t remember the last time he had worked on a Sunday. The fact that he was working today was a signal to me that he was trying to stay busy to keep his mind off of what was going on between us.

The restaurant was nearly empty. This was not exactly where I would have preferred to talk, but Jefferson said he couldn’t stay away from the work site for long.

I saw him walk in before he spotted me. As he made his way over to the booth, his face was stern and sullen. His body, strong and taut. He was wearing his typical work garb: jeans and a white T-shirt. I was dressed in a gray terry-cloth jogging suit.

I glanced at my watch as he approached.

“We on the clock?” he said, as he slid into the booth. “What? You have to run back downtown to save some criminal?”

I decided to ignore the comment. There was no way I was going to start a fight with him, even though I felt just as much anger as heartache. “We have all the time you need,” I said.

“I don’t need any time. You called this meeting. What’s up?” His face said he’d rather be someplace else.

“So this is the way we solve our problems? By walking out on each other?”

One side of his lip formed a lopsided smile. “This is a good start,” he said. “At least you’re finally willing to recognize that there even
is
a fuckin’ problem.”

“What’s going on Jefferson? This isn’t like us.”

“I’m just tired of it.”

“Of what?”

“Everything,” he said, his voice full of contempt. “I’m tired of taking a backseat to your career. I’m tired of being there when you need me, but you never being there when I need you. I’m tired of sitting home at night by myself. I see less of you now than when we were dating. Why’d we even get married?”

What he had just said made me angry. He knew how things were when I was in trial. My schedule was nothing new. He was changing the rules. “So you’re telling me you want out? You want a divorce?”

He took a good long while to respond. “Always the lawyer,” he said. “Cut directly to the chase.”

I was thankful that he’d sidestepped my question. I would not ask it again. “So, where are you staying?” I asked. Maybe it would be best to warm up with some small talk.

The look on his face told me he didn’t want to say, and that pissed me off even more.

“I’m only asking so I’ll know where to reach you if anything happens.”

He turned to look out the window. “You’ve got my cell number.”

He must’ve sensed I was ready to blow so he relented. “I’m kicking it at the duplex in Gardena,” he said curtly. “The one on Yukon Street.”

With who?
It hit me that maybe another woman had something to do with his departure. He had said that as long as his needs were being taken care of it was “highly unlikely” that he would ever mess around. I guess I hadn’t been meeting his needs lately. “I thought both units were rented,” I said.

“Nah. The tenant in unit B moved out last month.”

“You didn’t tell me that.”

“You’re never home long enough for us to have a conversation. There’s a whole lot of stuff I haven’t told you.”

This wasn’t working out the way I wanted it to. “Jefferson, if I haven’t been around when you’ve needed me, it’s because I didn’t know you needed me. Every time I try to talk to you, you shut down.”

“That’s because you always jamming me up about adoption. I told you, I ain’t with that. I find it funny that motherhood is so important to you all of a sudden. Maybe you need to find a brother whose dick is functional.”

You think I don’t want to be with you because you’re sterile?
“C’mon Jefferson, what’re you talking about? This is nuts. I don’t want to be with anybody else. I want to be with you. I love you. Baby or no baby.”

His shoulders relaxed a bit, letting me know he needed to hear those words.

“Jefferson, you have to tell me what I need to do. You’re saying you need me, but you don’t exactly act very needy.”

“I don’t have to act needy to want my woman around,” he said heatedly. “Why the fuck you think I married you? We live in the same house and I never see you.”

“If my being around is the issue, then I can fix that.”

He reared his head back. “How many times have you told me that in the past year?”

I sighed and looked away, probably because I knew he was right. I’d been promising to slow down for months. The lawyer who cried wolf. Except that I wasn’t wolfing this time.

“No, I’m serious.” He cocked his head to the side. “Do you know how many times?” He gave me a few seconds to answer and when he saw that I wasn’t going to, he answered for me. “Too many times to count.”

I was beginning to feel defensive. This wasn’t all about me. “You act like you didn’t know I was a lawyer when you married me. I don’t work any harder now than I did before we were married.”

“That’s my point,” he said, raising his hand in the air for emphasis. “We’re married now. Something has to give.”

“You asking me to quit my job?”

“No. I’m asking you to have a normal life and not to spend every waking hour down at that damn firm.”

“And if I can’t do that right this second?” I was backing him up against the wall only because that was exactly what he was doing to me.

He didn’t miss a beat. “Then it’s on you.”

The waitress, a hefty black woman with zigzag cornrows, walked up at exactly the wrong moment. “May I take your order?”

“I ain’t hungry,” Jefferson growled, not even bothering to look up at her.

“l’ll have a Diet Coke and a Boca burger with cheddar cheese, well-done, and a small salad, ranch dressing on the side. And he’ll have the turkey club, no tomatoes. Lemonade, extra sweet.”

Sensing the tension between us, the waitress scribbled down our order and hurriedly walked off.

“What you just did is exactly what I mean,” Jefferson said. “It’s all about you.”

“What? Because I ordered a sandwich for you? I only did it because I know you’re probably hungry. The only reason you said you weren’t is because you’re in a funk.”

“No, you ordered for me despite my telling you I wasn’t hungry because everything has to be your way.”

“Excuse me for caring whether you eat or not.”

He just stared at me.

Out of force of habit, I glanced at my watch again.

“Sure you don’t have to go save somebody from the electric chair or something?”

“Your sarcasm isn’t helping anything, Jefferson. I need you to talk to me.” I reached out to take his hands, but he pulled them away.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks, but you haven’t been listening.”

“Okay, I’m ready to listen now.”

He filled his cheeks with air and blew out a long, slow breath. “Baby, I just need some time,” he said, his voice so gentle it scared me. “This ain’t the way I imagined my marriage would be.”

My heart began to pump fear. “Jefferson, I—”

This time, he reached out and took my hands in his, and it felt good. “I love you,” he said, smiling for the first time. “And I know you love me. But your career seems to be the most important thing in your life right now. You ought to see how you light up when you’re talking about one of your cases. I just don’t move you that way. I wish like hell I did. But I don’t.”

He squeezed my hands tighter. “And it finally hit me the other day when I was sitting home at eleven o’clock all by myself again that you may not be capable of giving me what I need.”

He released my hands and took a sip of water. “And you need to understand that maybe I can’t accept what little you can give me.”

I tried to breathe but I couldn’t. Fear had taken my breath away.

L
ess than an hour later, I was standing outside Special’s apartment, bawling like a newborn baby.

“Just stop crying and tell me what happened?” Special wrapped her arm around my shoulder and pulled me inside. She had an alarmed look on her face and I could tell that if I didn’t stop crying and tell her what was wrong, she was going to start crying, too. She led me over to her leopard print couch and hugged me as I continued to sob.

“What’s wrong? Stop crying and tell me what’s wrong?”

“Jefferson left me,” I wailed.

“What?” She pulled away so she could see my face.

“He said I don’t make enough time for him,” I sobbed. “And I know you’re going to say, I told you so.”

“No, I’m not,” she said, pulling me to her again. “You can’t help it, you’ve got an A-type personality.”

“Thanks a lot,” I sniveled.

“Girl, please. That man ain’t going nowhere. He loves your dirty draws.” She stood up and took me by the hand. “C’mon in the kitchen with me. I’m going to fix us a drink and then tell you what you need to do to get your man back.”

I followed Special into the kitchen and watched her make strawberry daiquiris in her Proctor-Silex blender. “That’s enough, Special,” I protested when she began to douse the blender with enough rum to ensure that I wouldn’t make it home without a DUI.

“Girl, hush. What you need right now is a nice, strong buzz.”

“Drink this,” she said, shoving a cocktail glass in my face and joining me at the kitchen table. My head was beginning to spin though I had yet to take a sip. I could never sit in Special’s kitchen for more than a few seconds. The bright orange and yellow striped walls always made my head hurt.

“Okay, you know the man loves you, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I said, holding the glass, but not drinking from it. “I mean, I thought he did.”

“And ain’t no other babe up in the mix as far as you know, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“Girl, you know that brother ain’t steppin’ out on you. And you know he’s definitely been feeling a lot of pain after finding out his ding-dong don’t work like it should.”

“But I thought he was back to his old self.”

“Um, um, um,” she said, shaking her head from left to right. “You book-smart women continue to amaze me with all the things you don’t know. If you found out that you didn’t have any eggs and couldn’t get pregnant—ever—would you be okay in a few weeks? Hell no. He may look like he’s doing fine, but he’s not. Jefferson’s hurting and he needs you.”

“I can’t just quit my job and stay home and babysit him.”

“You don’t have to quit your job, but you need to stop trying to be super lawyer and devote some time to your man. I couldn’t believe it when you told me they were going to take you off that Montgomery case, but you begged them not to. You’ve been down there day and night trying to help save that rich bitch when you know she killed her husband. You’re going to help her ass go free and when the trial’s over, she’s going to find herself another rich man to take care of her prissy little behind and you’re going to be sitting up here with me every night. You need to start making time for Jefferson—right now.”

“It’s too late,” I said, wiping my runny nose with my sleeve. “He said he doesn’t think I can give him what he needs.”

She took a big swig from her drink. “Can you?”

“Yeah.”

“But do you want to?”

“Of course I do.” I took a swallow of my drink and nearly choked. “Special, this stuff is too strong.”

“You’re such a lightweight,” she complained. “Back to Mr. J. Are you sure you can give him what he needs? Because it seems to me you get off on trying them cases more than you do on that big handsome buck you’re married to.”

“I love Jefferson. You know that.”

“Then start acting like it.”

“How? It’s probably too late.”

“Girl, it ain’t never too late if you got what it takes. I know men better than any woman you know, right?”

“I guess so, Special.”

“You guess so? Oh, hell naw.” She pushed her chair back from the table. “You better give me my props.”

I smiled weakly. “You’re the bomb, Special. Especially when it comes to men.”

“Okay, then.” She got up and walked over to the kitchen counter. “The brother said he wants some space, so we’re going to give it to him. First, don’t call him. The more you go whining and sniveling around his ass, the more he’ll be turned off. That brother was attracted to you because of your strength and now he’s pushing you away because of it. You just need to learn how to balance your business side and your feminine side. A brother needs both.”

I started to whimper again.

“Girl, stop all that crying.” She was leaning against the kitchen counter, facing me. “I already told you, that man ain’t going nowhere. All he’s trying to do is teach you a lesson.”

“And what lesson would that be?”

“Duh?” she said, as if I should know the answer to my own question. “To stop taking his ass for granted.”

“Well, call him and tell him I’ve learned my lesson and he can come back home now,” I said, pouting.

“Don’t worry, homey,” Special said. She walked over and squeezed my shoulder. “Things happen for a reason. This is going to end up being both a lesson and blessin’. Mark my words. That Negro says he wants some space, so we’re going to give him some. Then, we’re going to reel his ass back home real nice and slow.”