The Morning After (3 page)

“Why didn't she tell us she was gonna die?” Jerrod's blurted the words and his voice trembled as he choked back the onset of heavier tears.

Angel squeezed his hand. “She didn't know she was going to die, Jerrod.”

“Yes, she did.” His reply was accusing. “Ms. Essie knew everything. She knew when people were coming by to visit, she knew when something was on your mind; she knew when it was gonna rain . . . she knew
everything
, Ms. Angel. She had to know she was gonna die. Why she didn't tell us?”

After a brief, thoughtful silence, Angel wiped a tear from her own eye, and then replied, “Let's just say she did know, Jerrod. Had she told us, would it have made a difference? Would you be any less hurt than you are now? Would you have been any more ready for her to die than you were then? I know I wouldn't have. And not only that, but if Ms. Essie had told me she was going to die, I would've been so sad that I probably couldn't have enjoyed Austin's birth. You probably would have been so sad that you wouldn't have been able to eat or sleep.”

“Think about it, Jerrod. If what you say is true, and she really did know that God would come and take her early that Saturday morning, maybe she didn't tell us because she wanted us to be happy. Maybe Ms. Essie knew that the only way she could die happy was if we were all living happy.”

It made perfect sense, but it didn't soothe his wounded heart. Jerrod decided that he'd have to deal with the embarrassment of Angel seeing him sob some other time. Conceding to the fact that he was neither man enough nor strong enough to keep his emotions in check any longer, Jerrod brought his hands to his face and wept harder than he had in months. He felt Angel's arms embrace him and pull him closer to her. He didn't see her tears, but he knew she was crying too.

Some days, Jerrod could go a full twenty-four hours without being overcome with sadness at the thought that Essie Mae Richardson would never again be a part of his life. Today wasn't one of those days.

Four hundred eleven days . . . or was it four hundred twelve? She had lost track of the precise number. But whatever the length of time, it had been far longer than she'd expected.

When Elaine had the brief illicit affair that almost ended her then seven-year-old marriage, she knew that regaining Mason's trust would be an uphill battle. And she recalled very well the day that she told him that she was willing to wait as long as he needed. But Elaine had no idea of the punishment she had signed up for. She was afraid to check, but somehow she had the feeling that she qualified for inclusion in
The Guinness Book of World Records
for being the woman to go without intimacy for the longest period of time within her marriage. It wasn't a feat for which she'd want to take credit.

As she sat at her computer in her home office, typing the final lines to the health and fitness article that would appear in an upcoming issue of
Ladies Home Journal
, Elaine struggled to keep her focus. She loved her husband, and she felt deserving of being punished. But she didn't know how much more she could handle.

“At least we're still together,” she mumbled, trying to focus on the positive. Zoning in on the good in every situation and minimizing the bad was something she'd learned from Essie, but sometimes Elaine wondered if remaining in such a strained relationship was a positive thing after all. It was beginning to take its toll.

Knowing that the bulk of the recent stress that their marriage had endured had been caused by her own infidelity, Elaine tried to remain patient while her husband dealt with everything at his own pace. Coming to grips that she had cheated on him had been very difficult for Mason, and Elaine had to admit that in spite of everything, he'd come a long way from where he was at the start of the mayhem. For weeks following the reveal of her adultery, he would barely talk to her, and when he did begin opening the lines of communication, he struggled to look at her when he talked. Now conversation was no longer an issue. They spoke with ease, even sharing laughs on occasion. But that was about all they shared. Elaine never dreamed that a year would pass with Mason still sleeping on the sofa. She was beginning to feel as though she had a housemate; not a husband.

In the early days of the sleeping arrangements that Mason had implemented, adding a mile to her morning runs seemed to relieve some of the frustration of not being able to spend any intimate time with the man she loved. But as those days turned into weeks and the weeks expanded into months, no amount of exercise was satisfying her physical and emotional needs.

“Elaine . . . you here?”

Mason's voice, calling from somewhere in the living room, took her by surprise. Elaine had been so absorbed in her own thoughts that she hadn't even heard him come in the front door. She looked at the clock in the lower right hand corner of her computer. He was right on time.

“Yes, I'm here.” As she responded, she slid her rolling desk chair away from the computer and started down the hall to meet him. It was nearing seven o'clock. Her work had kept her so involved that she'd failed to finish preparing dinner. It would only take ten minutes to cook the boilin-bag rice that would serve as a side dish to the peppered steak and gravy she'd cooked earlier.

Elaine came to a stop at the mouth of the hallway and watched Mason struggle to pull his shirt over his head. He always came home from hauling loads, smelling like a mixture of gasoline and sweat. Emerging love handles were evidence of the lack of exercise that his truck driving job allowed. But none of that doused Elaine's yearning to touch and be touched by him. Their marriage had seen some good days in years past. No one in her entire life, including the chiseled-framed Bermudian that she'd allowed herself to be swept away by, had ever loved her on the same level as Mason. It had been a long time since she'd been with him, but Elaine hadn't forgotten what it was like.

“Hey.” Mason's single-word greeting shook Elaine from her mindless gaze.

“Hey,” she replied, embarrassed that he had caught her longing stare. Her face felt flushed. “How was work?”

“Okay. What about you? You done with the story you were talking about last night?”

Elaine walked past him as she responded. “Almost, but not quite. I had to set it aside to meet a deadline on an article I was assigned. I'll be finished with both before the end of the evening though. Are you about ready to eat? It'll be a few minutes.”

“No problem. I gotta shower first anyway.”

“Everything will be ready by then.”

Mason went into the bedroom and eased the door shut. The rule was unwritten and unspoken, but Elaine knew that anytime he closed the bedroom door behind him, she wasn't allowed inside. Most evenings when he returned home from his local hauls, he showered in the guest bathroom down the hall near Elaine's office, but today he wanted to use his own. The master bath's stall was more spacious, and unlike in the guest bath, this one's shower head had massage settings. Why should he have to be the one to get second best? After all, it was Elaine who had messed up everything by inviting another man to enter territory where he had no business.

“Okay, dude, cut it out!” Mason whispered harshly as he rubbed his eyes to try to wipe away the visual that often found its way into his mind. Every time he thought he was over it, mental snapshots resurfaced of Elaine and Danté pawing passionately at one another. For Mason, the thought of it served as a relentless form of torture.

“Listen, man, I know you don't want to hear this, but maybe it's time for you to seek psychological help along with spiritual counsel,” T.K. had told him just last Saturday as Mason shared lunch with him and their mutual friend, Colin Stephens.

Ever since the morning after Essie's death, the three men had bonded. For Mason, the friendship had taken some getting used to, but it was one that he knew he needed. All of his life, he was accustomed to having friends who wasted away every non-working hour of the day, driving fast cars or sitting around playing poker, eating barbecue, and drinking beer. And breaking away from the bad company hadn't been easy.

Over the last year, Colin's and T.K.'s more productive lifestyles had been good examples for Mason. The banker and high school coach, respectively, had shown him that having fun didn't require him to spend large amounts of money that his blue collar job couldn't afford. And it certainly didn't call for him to spend hours away from home, leaving his wife to wonder about his whereabouts. But in all of their influence, Colin and T.K. hadn't convinced him to seek help for his inability to resume a normal marriage. Mason was already shaking his head before Colin could finish the sentence.

“Man, I told you before, that ain't for me. I ain't going to no quack. You can forget that, bruh. It just ain't gonna happen.”

“If you stop seeing them as
quacks
, then you won't see it as a bad thing,” T.K. insisted. “There's nothing wrong with seeing a professional. And if you can find one who is also a minister of God, why wouldn't you?”

“Forget it, Coach,” Mason said, pausing to take a long sip from his glass of water. “I'm a man, and I'm not about to spill my guts to no stranger. I can handle my own problems.”

“Oh, really?” Colin eyed Mason like he was daring him to lie for a second time.

T.K. tried again. “Going to a professional doesn't compromise your manhood, Mason. Plenty of
real
men see psychologists.”

“It's been over a year,” Colin added. “Do you know how long a year is? That's three hundred sixty-five days, man. And for you, you have to add another month or so to that. Man, it's been over four hundred days for you and Elaine. That's crazy.” Colin slapped himself on the forehead for theatrical effect. “Actually, that's insane! I mean, I couldn't imagine going nearly that long without making love to my wife. Not by choice, anyway.”

“Yeah? Well, I'll betcha you can't imagine your wife sexing it up with some other dude
by choice
either.”

“Shhh! Keep your voice down,” T.K. warned, taking a quick look around the room. “You don't want to tell your private business to one psychiatric specialist, but you don't mind telling it to a room full of spectators.”

Before Mason could reply, Colin spoke again. “Look, Mason, you're right. I can't imagine Angel stepping out on me like that, and I'm not trying to downplay what Elaine did. She was wrong, man, and nobody's denying that. Even she knows that she was wrong. But how long are you gonna keep kicking her in the butt for her misbehavior? How long do you plan to make her suffer?”

Mason shrugged as he took another bite of his meal. “Man, Elaine ain't suffering. She's doing just fine. I need just a little while longer, that's all. She's waited this long with no problem, and she'll be all right 'til I can work through this.”

Colin and T.K.'s demeanors clearly indicated that they didn't agree, but neither pressed the issue any further, and Mason had been thankful for that. But now, as he recalled the expression on his wife's face as she watched him remove his shirt, he wondered if they were right. Was Elaine suffering? Behind that strong exterior, was she yearning for him?

The questions in Mason's mind were temporarily rinsed away under the pressure of the pulsating water spewing from the shower head, pouring over his tired body. Ten minutes later, when he finally emerged from the relaxing hot shower and stepped into the coolness of his bedroom, his thoughts returned.

Mason sat on the edge of the mattress and continued to use the towel to absorb the moisture from his skin. The strong smell of the smothered steak dinner that awaited him edged its way under the crack of his bedroom door and massaged his nostrils. Elaine had been trying very hard to please him since their reconciliation began all those months ago. She had been keeping a cleaner house, cooking on an almost daily basis, and giving him all the space he needed. Not once had she pressured him for intimacy. She'd kept her end of the bargain.

“Man, what's wrong with you?” Mason whispered to himself as he slipped on a fresh shirt and then stepped into a pair of blue jeans that were fitting snugger than usual around his expanding waist. He'd picked up fifteen pounds since Essie's death; a stark contrast from Elaine, who seemed to be shedding weight every week.

Mason's eyes fell to the ice blue night gown that lay draped across the bed. It must have been new because he'd never seen his wife wear it. He imagined that the satin fabric would fall beautifully over her new slimmer curves. Many nights as Elaine walked around the house in her sleepwear, Mason would steal glances and long to reach out to her. His friends didn't understand the depth of his plight. They didn't know the half of it. It wasn't that he wouldn't make love to his wife.... He
couldn't
make love to her. As badly as Mason desired to be with Elaine, the haunting thoughts of her with another man had all but paralyzed him from the waist down. And it was frightening.

T.K.'s words ricocheted in Mason's head, begging him to comply, but he couldn't get himself to do it. The whole situation was just too embarrassing. What was he going to tell the quack? Was he actually supposed to admit to only being half a man? He wouldn't tell that to his own biological brothers, let alone a medical professional or a clergyman. Some things were just better kept unsaid, and this was one of them.

Mason suddenly shuddered as though a draft of cold air had burst through his closed bedroom windows. All his brothers were fathers whether they were husbands or not. Having babies was a big deal in his family, and of his mother's children, Mason was the only one who hadn't added any branches to the family tree. Until now, he'd escaped ridicule because of Elaine's multiple miscarriages, but if news of his new plight leaked out, Mason would become the shame of his mother and the laughing stock of his siblings. Even as he sat on the edge of his bed, Mason could almost hear the jokes of not being able to make his “soldier salute” or his “flag fly at full mast.” His brothers loved him as much as they knew how to, growing up in a family as detached as theirs, but they could be ruthless. There was just no way he would admit to anyone that he couldn't get his body to respond to his desires. He'd just have to wait it out.

“I ain't the first man that's been cheated on, and I won't be the last,” Mason said, keeping his voice level low so that Elaine wouldn't hear him. “I'm gonna get through this. I just need a little more time, that's all. I'm a man,” he added, trying to keep himself convinced as he gently ran his index finger down the soft material of the gown that still lay on top of the bed comforter. “I'm a man, and I'll get through this. I
have
to find a way to get through this.”