In Too Deep (4 page)

I
wanted to ask him again to stay longer, but I knew he wasn't going to give in. The one rule we had was that no matter what, we wouldn't change what we were doing or the way we were doing it, because things were going too well for us. Why fix something that wasn't broken, right? He was right and I knew it; breaking our rule wouldn't have been a good idea. But damn it, it was hard to not want to do just that.

Without Abe I was an unlit matchstick. Stiff and dry. But with him, I was alive and burning. He was the spark that ignited me in ways my own husband couldn't. With Abe, I never had to worry about faking an orgasm, because from the moment he laid his hands on me, I was wet and ready to explode. It was surreal the way he made my body feel. He seemed to know my trigger zones better than I did.

Ten years behind us, and my husband Whilice still fumbled around my body like a clumsy teenager unsure of what to do next. I know sex isn't everything, but damn, is a little skill and satisfaction too much to ask for?

Whilice wasn't completely dissatisfying when we first met. Fresh out of Florida University with my degree in hand, I was ready to take the advertising world by storm. With the chips doubly stacked against me as a minority and a female, I knew that if I wanted to make my mark, I was going to have to bull my way in and prove that I wasn't just a pretty face with a shapely figure. I had to be headstrong, determined, driven, and downright ruthless at times.

Whilice was that way when I met him.

I was on the hunt for a new Mazda when we met. Whilice was the head salesman at the Lakeland AutoMall, the biggest car dealership around in Florida at the time. It was obvious by all the plaques and awards in his office that he knew the game well. Back then, Whilice had it going on. He was tall with dimples and sweet brown eyes to match his dark chocolate skin. He was also bald, which was a very big turn-on for me.

For the better part of two hours, I dragged Whilice down every aisle of the AutoMall, looking at cars I had absolutely no interest in. He intrigued me. He was tall, fine, could wear the hell out of a suit, and his career was obviously in high gear. That was another turn-on for me: he was driven to be a success. While we walked through the lot, we got to know a lot about one another, and by the time my shopping excursion was over, we'd exchanged phone numbers. I also left the lot in a brand new-Mazda 626.

It wasn't until a week later before we'd gone out on our first date. Six months after that, we were married, and had our first child, Jayme, three months later.

In the beginning, Whilice was a caring and sensitive man who catered to my needs and wants, and for the first couple of years of our marriage, I was fulfilled. So much so, that I never really let the fact that he was somewhat disappointing in bed bother me. I just made the best of with what he could do, and when he fell asleep, grabbed my vibrator from my drawer, went into the bathroom and took care of myself. This I did more times than I would have liked to, but hey, when in a marriage, you have to accept the good with the bad. At least that's what my mother always told me.

So I did just that. Accepted. Had two more kids—Veronica and Devin—within three years, and accepted some more. Disappointing sex or not, we were a complete modern-day upper-middle-class family, with a beautiful house, great jobs, and two cars. We were happy. Hell, I was happy.

But then our roles changed.

Selling cars left and right, Whilice was always the breadwinner. But as the economy got worse, my salary increased, while his went in the opposite direction. Once the best salesman in the region, his sales dropped dramatically, and oftentimes his paychecks would be less than half of what they used to be. Knowing how driven my husband was, and seeing for myself how successful he had been, I had no doubt that it was just a matter of time before he would tame the wild bull that kept throwing him off. Without fussing and without worrying, I rode the wave and waited for the tide to change.

Unfortunately, it never did.

Letting himself go physically, it just seemed as though he'd become content with making spare change. I held on for as long as I could, but the more he settled and became physically unappealing, the more I needed an escape. Ultimately, I couldn't take it anymore, and I ended up having my first affair when I went away on a business trip.

I met him at the bar in the hotel I was staying in. He was attractive, had a fine build, and after a couple of drinks, I had a nice buzz and was horny. Later that night, we took full advantage of the clean sheets in the room. The fling was meaningless for me, but the sexual release was necessary, because for the first time in a long time, I didn't need my Silver Bullet.

I didn't have another affair again, until I met Abe. I fought it for as long as I could because I really didn't want to be unfaithful again. I wasn't happy, but I had morals. I also didn't want to break my own rule about interoffice relationships. They were always a no-no in my book. I didn't want that kind of taboo. But the more I worked with Abe, the more I wanted to feel him. I was attracted to not only his physique, but his mind as well. He was as focused as I was. Working alongside him was like playing a chess match. And because I was the head honcho, I had to use my mind and make sure I stayed at the top of the game.

I handled myself well, until I kissed him. We were working late in my office, and that night, I just couldn't take it anymore. His scent had me wet, and I was tired of fighting the obvious. I also knew the attraction was mutual, because I saw him catching glimpses of my body whenever he could. I made the first move, though, because I wanted the control. I wanted it known that it happened because I made it happen. Before the kiss, I rationalized in my head that a onetime fuck wasn't going to hurt. If anything, with the release of the sexual tension, we'd be able to get back to focusing on only the work. The only problem was I didn't expect to become so hooked. And never did I think I would be falling in love. That was one monkey wrench I didn't anticipate. It was also the one thing that I didn't know how to get rid of.

 

 

I pulled the car into the driveway and sat still for a moment. I had to put my loving mother, happy wife face on. This wasn't always easy for me. Lying to Whilice was one thing, because I really wasn't happy, but lying to my kids was a different beast altogether. They were everything to me, and likewise I was to them. I was their mommy who could do no wrong. Sometimes I wondered about what it would do to them if they were to ever find out about my affair. How would they react? At ten, our oldest child, Jayme, would be old enough to understand what I was doing was wrong. She adores Whilice. Actually, all of our girls do. He may be an underachiever when it comes to his professional career, but when it comes to them, he works hard at being the best father he can be. That's one thing I've always liked about him. With Whilice, family was always his priority.

Jayme is just like him. She has the same happy-go-lucky attitude that he has. She rarely gets mad, and is not as aggressive as I would like her to be. Hopefully she'll become more assertive, as she gets older. The last thing I want is for her to be the type of woman that men feel they can disrespect.

Devin is only a year younger than Jayme, and takes after me; she's headstrong and hates to fail at anything. She's going to be successful when she gets older. Right now she has dreams of being in advertising just like her mother. It would break my heart if her dream were to change because of me and my desire for Abe.

Veronica is only four, but is years smarter. She has a mouth so quick and a mind so sharp, she scares me. She has lawyer potential already. She loves her mommy and daddy equally. I try not to imagine what getting caught would do to her.

I knew that crossing the line was dangerous, and there were times when I really thought about putting a stop to it. But the reality is I didn't want to. Whilice and I were growing apart. Our best years were behind us. Sooner or later we were going to break. He may not have known that, but I did.

Damn the consequences.

I picked up the phone and dialed Abe's number. When he didn't answer, I left a message telling him to have sweet dreams. Then I got out of the car.

When I got inside, Whilice and the girls were watching
Madagascar
. They were so wrapped up in it, that all I got was a wave and a smile. I was fine with that. I let my face go, and went into the bedroom to shower and change.

“W
hat do you mean, you want out?”

I closed my book and stared at Monique, who was standing with her back to me in front of the bedroom window. “What do you mean, Monique?” I asked again.

With a sigh, Monique answered, “I mean I want a break, Randy. I'm moving out.”

I got out of bed and approached her. Staring at her reflection in the glass, I said, “Moving out? A break?”

She stared back at me through the glass with seriousness in her eyes, her lips pressed tightly together. She stayed that way for a good half a minute before she responded, and when she did, her tone was all business. “I'm tired of putting up with the bullshit, Randy. That's all there is to it. I'm tired of your inability to be a man.”

I stepped away from her and went back to the bed. I sat down and rested my elbows on my knees. “You're not going to start this Tina crap again, are you? We've gone over this song too many times. Do we have to repeat it again?”

“No. I'm tired of the song too.”

“So just like that you're going to move out?”

“Yeah. Just like that.”

“What about the commitment we made to each other?”

“What about it?”

“Doesn't it mean anything?”

“Yes it does, Randy. It means everything to me. But we made it to each other. Not to each other and Tina.”

I exhaled and picked up the book I was reading. I held it tightly in my hands, trying to compose myself and not rip it in half out of frustration. “Please, Monique. Let's be reasonable. What you're saying doesn't make any sense.”

“Randy, what I'm saying is true and you know it. Tina is very much a part of this relationship.”

Unable to keep myself in check, I threw the book across the room and lay back on the bed. I couldn't believe this was happening. More importantly, I couldn't believe how right she was. Tina was a part of the relationship. But damn it, she was my daughter's mother. “She's Jalisa's mother, Monique. There's only so much I can do about her.”

“Whatever, Randy. I really don't care anymore. You can do whatever you want. I want out . . . at least for a while. I just need some time to think. And you need some time to figure out who and what is important to you.”

I gritted my teeth and balled my fists tightly, and wished to God I could have walked out of there and gone to the gym to go a few rounds with the punching bag. I couldn't believe we were having this discussion. I couldn't believe I'd let things get as bad as they had. “What do you want me to do, Monique? Just tell me. I don't want you to leave.”

“Randy, if you didn't want me to leave, you would have done something about Tina months ago, instead of avoiding her phone calls—at least when I was around.”

“What do you mean by that? I hope you're not insinuating what I think you are.”

“What could I possibly be
insinuating
, Randy? All you did was not take her call when I was there. It's not like you did anything different whenever I wasn't around, right?”

“Right.”

Monique moved away from the window and walked to the closet, and for the first time I realized she was fully dressed, while I was still in my sweats. “Do you have feelings for her?” she asked, stepping inside and staring at her wardrobe.

“Come on, Monique. You already know the answer to that.”

She pulled out a couple of shirts and pants and looked at me. “Do I? Do you?”

My voice was rising in pitch. “What do you mean ‘Do I'? You damn well know I don't have any feelings for her.”

Monique rolled her eyes and curled her lips. “Just thought I'd ask,” she said.

Her flippant attitude was really pissing me off. “Dealing with Tina isn't easy, Monique. You know that. Putting up with her bullshit isn't something I enjoy.”

“You may not enjoy it, but you certainly don't put a stop to it, Randy. And you damn sure don't put a stop to her interfering with what we've got going. It's been this way since I first met her. Attitude. That's all I've been putting up with from her. And instead of putting her in check, you ask me to keep my claws in.
Me
! She's Jalisa's mother, which is fine, but just because she is, that doesn't mean she should be able to do or say whatever the hell she wants to, to me.

“Fuck my claws! I refuse to be disrespected, especially in my own home. And I refuse to accept the fact that when I say something to her stupid ass, I'm the only person to whom you have something to say. No, no, no! Not anymore.”

I stood up and approached her, but stopped when she put up her hands. “Baby—”

“Enough, Randy! I've had enough. Tina is a bitch. Plain and simple. And that bitch has a problem with the woman you say you love. Now, I know you want to have a relationship with her for Jalisa's sake. I know you want Jalisa to see both parents getting along. I applaud you for wanting that. Kids need that. But you have to accept the reality that you and Tina are not on the same page. She could give two shits about the things you want. What she
wants
is you. What she
wants
is me out of the picture. Being friends with me around is not in her game plan.”

I shook my head. “Monique—”

“Randy, there are a lot of parents who don't get along. There are a lot of kids who have to deal with that. That's real. Sometimes we don't get all of the things we want. I would have thought you would have understood that a long time ago.”

“Monique, I don't want my little girl growing up in an environment of hostility. Because the minute I tell Tina the deal, that's what she's going to be seeing.”

“Jalisa can deal with it.”

“I don't want her to have to deal with it.”

“Then you don't need me around.”

 

 

And just like that, she left.

Packed a few things and went to stay with her mother, leaving me with nothing but, “I hope you take the time to figure out what you want.”

What I want.

I punched the front door.

Damn.

At that moment, what I wanted was for the clock to be rewound to just before I slept with Tina. I would have used a condom then, instead of believing her when she said she was on the pill. I turned around to see Jalisa stepping out of her bedroom with tears leaking from her eyes.

“Munchkin,” I whispered. “Why are you crying?” I walked over to her and picked her up and rocked her tiny body. “What's wrong, little lady?”

She rubbed her eyes and looked at me with red, slightly puffy eyes that broke my heart. “Mommy made Monique go away, didn't she?”

I sighed and squeezed my little princess tightly. Instead of answering her, I just rocked her softly, cursing Tina for being the bitch that she was. I also cursed myself for ever wishing to use a condom.

The next couple of weeks were rough. I tried to call Monique repeatedly on her cell, but she never answered. I called her mother's house, but she never took my calls. I went to her office, but she always refused to see me. Once, I sat in my car all day, parked next to hers, hoping to get her to talk to me, but when she came out of the building to leave, she had security with her.

Eventually, she came and got a few more things. When she did, I tried to talk to her, but all I got was, “I need more time.” Then she left again, and I was stuck with nothing but too much time. Three months had now passed and I was losing all hope.

Tina continued to call my cell. I never answered when she did, though, because I just didn't feel like dealing with her. I did let Jalisa call and speak to her though, but I made sure she knew not to mention what had happened. And when Tina asked to speak to me, I had Jalisa tell her that I was busy. It was at those moments that I realized just how much my little girl was growing up. She understood everything that was going on, which made me curse myself even more. I thought about the things Monique had said. That Jalisa could deal with it. I was beginning to see more and more how right she was.

Damn, I missed her. And I wasn't the only one.

“Daddy, is Monique ever going to come back?”

I sipped on my Coke as we sat in the park and watched people roller-blade by. “I don't know, munchkin. She's pretty mad right now.”

“At Mommy?”

“At Mommy, and Daddy.”

“What did you do?”

“All of the wrong things.”

She looked up at me. “Why?”

“I was weak.”

“You're not weak, Daddy. You're the strongest daddy in the whole universe. You can pick me up with one arm.”

I kissed my little-big woman and she gave me a hug. “You should do the right thing, Daddy. That's what you and Monique always say.”

I smiled and kissed my little psychiatrist. “So you think Daddy should be strong?”

“Yup.”

I drank down some more of my soda. Jalisa was right. I needed to be strong. It was time. Unfortunately, I lost my strength that night.

 

 

It was midnight, and I had just finished doing some work on my laptop, and was getting ready to turn on the TV when my phone rang. Because I had been wishing for it all day, without hesitation, I grabbed at the phone, never even bothering to look at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“It's about time you answered my call.”

Instantly aggravated, I said, “What do you want, Tina?”

“To talk. How's my little girl?”

“She's sleeping. Which is what I'm about to do. Call her back tomorrow night
before
she goes to bed.”

“I miss you, Randy.”

I breathed out into the phone for her to hear my frustration. “Tina, don't start, okay. It's late. I'm tired and not in the mood.”

As always, she was relentless.

“I bet I could get you in the mood.”

“Tina . . .”

“Don't deny it, Randy. You know I could, just like I used to. I still know where your spot is. Does she know where it is?”

“Monique, Tina. And don't mention her again.”

“You sound like you need a massage. Why don't you sneak out and come over here and let me rub those strong shoulders?”

“Stop talking shit, Tina. You know I'm not having that. Besides, aren't you in Paris?”

“The shoot ended earlier than expected. I'm back in New York. So you see, if you come over, I could show you how much fun you could be having.”

“Jalisa's here, Tina.”

“So? Leave her with Monique.”

“Monique's not here,” I said, grimacing as I instantly regretted letting that slip from my lips.

“It's after twelve and she's not there?” Tina asked in a mischievous tone. “My, my . . . is there trouble in paradise?”

“No trouble.”

“Then where is she?”

I was about to snap on her, when the phone beeped, letting me know that I had another call.

Monique?

I looked at the time. It was going on twelve-thirty. Who else could it have been? I looked at the caller ID and sighed.

“I have another call, Tina.”

“I'll hold on.”

I resisted from cursing her out and clicked over.

“Travis?”

“Hey, big brother.”

“Hey, little brother. I haven't heard from you in a while.”

I listened to my youngest brother sigh, and immediately I knew something was wrong, which didn't surprise me, because he only ever called when something was wrong.

Travis is gay.

Not the in-the-closet or down-low type, but the flamboyantly I'm-flaunting-it-without-shame-for-all-the-world-to-see type. For as long as I could remember, he'd been gay. Growing up, he never liked doing any of the things that “normal” boys liked to do. He preferred Barbie dolls and Easy-Bake ovens over G.I. Joes and He-Man. When he played outside, he hung out with the girls and jumped double Dutch, instead of throwing the football with the guys or playing three-on-three on the basketball court. He liked to decorate sand castles instead of build them.

I won't lie: I was never happy that my youngest brother was gay. Actually, it bothered the hell out of me. Although it wasn't common knowledge, it was obvious to everyone that Travis was a homosexual. Growing up, I used to get into so many fights over comments both guys and girls would make about my brother's sexuality. I was constantly defending what I knew was the truth, and constantly coming to my little brother's aid. It was embarrassing and difficult to deal with, and some days I wished he weren't my brother. But he was, and although it wasn't easy, I learned to accept reality for what it was. My mother did the same, and refused to treat him as anything but her son.

Unfortunately, my father and younger brother, Abe, couldn't deal with the truth, and for years they tried to ignore it, which, I'm sure, they would probably have done all their lives had Travis never come out of the closet during family dinner at sixteen years old. That day changed everything. Until that moment, Travis was my father's son. But right after Travis made his announcement, that all changed.

With the truth now out there and tangible, my father was no longer able to live in the denial he had been living in, and within a matter of seconds after the declaration, my father flew off the handle, and called Travis every demeaning name he could think of. He put him down relentlessly, calling him an embarrassment, a freak, a homo.

“I will not have a homo living in my home! You are not my son!” he screamed.