Chapter 18
June spent all day dodging phone calls. One after the other. From Kalina, then Candice. A call came from Calista and even Bryson. And she couldn’t find the strength to answer the call from Elowyn. She was too messed up to talk to anyone. She could only curl up in the fetal position on the living room sofa since it was the only room where she could escape from Everson’s scent. The only room in the house that didn’t contain any pictures of them – like the black and white photos lining the stairway wall and the wedding picture on the wall in the family room.
The hours slowly trickled by. At certain points of the day, she told herself that she wouldn’t be defeated by Everson’s infidelity – that this wasn’t her fault. Then there were times she questioned her role in this, same as she did yesterday. Then again, even if she wasn’t up to par as a wife, which she doubted, did that give him permission to step out on her?
Drying her eyes and softly patting her sore nose with a Kleenex, she got up from the couch and stumbled to the kitchen for water, feeling faint. Legs feeling partially numb again. She hadn’t eaten a thing since yesterday, and she didn’t feel like eating anything now. She just wanted to grieve the passing of her marriage because there was no way she’d take Everson back. No, not after this.
When the doorbell sounded, she made no effort to move – just stood in the kitchen like she didn’t hear the sound orchestrating throughout the house. She took another sip of water while placing her left hand on her stomach.
The doorbell sounded again, this time, back-to-back.
It only served to make her angry – not to rush to the door to see who was there. So she didn’t rush. She walked slowly, peeped out the window first to see Kalina’s car out front.
She rolled her eyes. Some friend she was.
The doorbell sounded for the fourth time and June nearly lost her balance. She snatched the door open and asked, “What could you possibly want, Kalina?”
Kalina stared at June. June’s hair was frizzy, flying all over the place. Her nose was red. Eyes a pinkish color and lids noticeably puffy. Her face looked pale. Lips dry. She had on a robe at five in the afternoon. This wasn’t the June she knew. June never let herself go. She stayed on point whether she was at home or out and about. She couldn’t recall ever seeing her this way.
Taken aback by June’s appearance, Kalina disguised the shock on her face by saying, “I was worried about you. I called three times today. You didn’t answer.”
“That should’ve given you a hint,” June said, her voice raspy from spending the last two days crying. “Usually when you call somebody repeatedly and they don’t answer the phone, it means they don’t want to talk to you. Go post that on your blog.” She started to push the door closed, but Kalina prevented her from closing it all the way.
“June, I’m sorry,” Kalina said throaty. “I am, but this isn’t my fault. You can’t blame me for something Everson did to you?”
“You were supposed to be my friend. My sister-in-law and friend, Kalina. I came to you and you—you made me think nothing was wrong,” she said, her words fading as more tears welled up in her eyes.
Kalina pushed the door open and stepped inside, taking June into her embrace. “I’m sorry,” she said, fighting back her own tears while she held on to June. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m so sorry.”
June backed away from her and wiped tears from her eyes.
“I—I really don’t know what to say besides I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say anything,” June told her. “There’s nothing to say and I honestly don’t feel like talking. I really don’t. When I do, maybe I’ll call you, but I can’t right now. I just can’t.”
“Okay. I accept that,” Kalina said. “Just know that, when you are ready, I’ll be here.”
June nodded.
Kalina hugged her again. “I love you.”
“I know,” June said.
“Take care of yourself, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
Kalina smiled sadly and turned to exit out of the front door.
June stood there for a moment, watching as she backed out of the driveway, then when she drove off, she eased the front door closed.
Food.
She had to eat something. Had to get out of the house. Some air and sunshine would do her a world of good.
She dressed in a pair of jeans and a gray shirt, slipped on some canvas shoes and stood at the bathroom mirror.
“Gosh, June. You look a mess,” she said, realizing that today, she’d be wearing making to hide flaws, not to enhance features. And she was okay with that. She didn’t want anyone to know how red her nose was, or that she’d been crying so much, it looked like she had sandbags underneath her eyes. And maybe after she finished applying the makeup, she’d still opt to hide her eyes with the biggest pair of black sunglasses she could find. Like the kind you would wear to a funeral. After all, something had died – her belief in love. In marriage. In unity. Day two and she was still in mourning.
Sitting in her car, the feeling a tad bit foreign since she hadn’t done it in two days (not typical for her) she backed out, heading straight to the grocery store. She’d never been big on fast food (she called it fat food) and preferred a home-cooked meal, even if it wasn’t anything but hand ripped lettuce with some tomatoes thrown inside of it. Friday was her day to go shopping for groceries, especially since the family dinner was supposed to be at her house, but after Everson’s bombshell, there was no need to shop for food since there would be no family coming over.
Pulling up to the store, she parked. Shut off the car. Didn’t move.
“Okay, June. Make this quick. Just run in there and grab some stuff. You can do it.”
The pep talk wasn’t working. She still didn’t move.
The keys remained in the ignition.
Her fingers trembled.
What the heck?
Exasperated, she pressed her forehead on the steering wheel and tried to stop the constant recycling of what she thought might happen if she got out of the car and ran into someone she knew inside of the store. She could hear the women gossiping now:
“You know, I saw June Blackstone the other day and she looked a hot mess, girl. I wonder if she and that Blackstone fella are still together.”
“Girl, probably not. He was a player before he met her and you know how the saying goes – once a player, always a player.”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
“Sho nuff is. Folks say you can’t turn a hoe into a housewife. They need an expression like that for men. You can’t turn a dog into a househusband. Hello!”
“You ain’t never lied, girl. But, anyway, getting back to June, did you see her with those big ol’ sunglasses on?”
“Did I? How could I miss them?”
“Mmm hmm…see what I’m saying. Now, I’m not one to get in nobody’s business, but that girl might be being abused.”
June sighed as the what if questions came to her mind. What if she did run into someone she knew? Someone who knew it was out of character for her to wear funeral-grade sunglasses inside of a grocery store? What would they think? That she was trying to hide from somebody incog-negro style. Disguising a black eye perhaps? Or going through some kind of midlife crisis? Or maybe that she’d finally flipped out, defeated by life? Concealing herself from the next upset?
What if the person she ran into asked her how she was doing? She wouldn’t know how to answer, and that’s the typical icebreaker question when you run into folk—how are you doing? – like they really care. Most don’t. Most are fishing for something to run home tell their husbands. But the ones who were genuine, what would she say in response? She could see herself stuttering to come up with an answer to that simple question that most people replied to with just a typical ‘fine’. She could lie and say that she was fine. It could possibly work. Or the I-don’t-give-a-crap switch might flip in her head, causing her to go on a rant about how she was on the verge of divorce from a man who couldn’t keep his pogo stick to himself.
And then there was the big what if. What if someone asked her how Everson was doing and the look of utter disgust automatically came to her face? She would definitely try to change the subject, but people read into everything nowadays. She’d still be the topic of someone’s conversation.
Crap!
June started the car. One sure fire way to avoid all of this was to pull up at a drive-thru and order herself some fat food. After all she’d been through, she deserved the luxury and downright satisfying feeling of gaining two pounds in one day and not giving two craps about it. Besides, this way, she wouldn’t have to worry about running into anyone. Drive-thru workers didn’t scrutinize you, try to strike up conversations and ask you if your man was cheating. They took your money, passed you a brown bag full of food and the transaction was over. Finished and done.
She pulled up at a burger joint and ordered the bacon double cheeseburger meal.
“Would you like to supersize your order ma’am?”
A smile grew on her face as she looked at the speaker from which the voice had come. “You bet your sweet life I would,” she replied.
“And what kind of drink would you like with that?”
“Uh…you don’t serve alcohol here, do you?”
A grin came through the intercom speaker. “No ma’am.”
“Darn it. Okay, just give me a Coke. I got some rum at home.”
Laughing, the worker said, “Okay, so I have a bacon double cheeseburger meal, with a Coke, supersized. Is everything correct on the screen?”
June glanced at it and said, “Yep.”
“Okay, ma’am. Your total is $8.69.”
June drove up to the first window. When it opened, she handed the guy a ten dollar bill.
“You said you got some rum at home, huh?” he joked, still tickled.
June laughed. “Sure do.”
“I feel you. I wish I had some,” he said, handing her change.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Enjoy your day and your rum.”
“I will,” she said, tickled.
She drove up to the second window where they already had her food prepared. The worker handed her the supersized soda first, then the bag. And that was a wrap.
She’d eaten most of the fries on the drive home and couldn’t remember the last time she indulged in so many delicious carbohydrates. Only a few fries remained in the bag when she sat at the table and took a massive bite of the burger.
“O-M-G, this is freakin’ delicious,” she mumbled, almost immediately taking a sip of soda after swallowing that first bite. “Wait…the rum!”
She jumped up and walked swiftly to the liquor cabinet, taking out a bottle of rum. Popping the top off of her cup, she poured in four shots worth and stirred it with the straw, taking a long sip afterward. She continued eating until the burger was gone and she was stuffed, all the food washed down with Coke and rum – the best meal she’d had in quite some time.
Now that she had some energy, thanks to food and liquid courage, she decided to do some housecleaning. First things first, she had to change the bed covers. Everson’s scent was on the covers that were currently on the bed, so she pulled everything off – down to the pillow cases and stuffed it in the washing machine. Then she replaced it with a different set – one that smelled like fabric softener.
“Ah,” she said. “Much better.” She wouldn’t be sleeping on the couch tonight. Why punish herself for something she didn’t do, especially when there was a new, five-thousand dollar mattress she could melt into?
She vacuumed rugs, ran the Swiffer across every floor in the house, dusted, cleaned the bathrooms, fluffed throw pillows and wiped down the kitchen countertops. It kept her mind busy. She rarely had time to feel sorry for herself when she kept busy, even if she had already wiped down the stainless steel refrigerator two times before and went back because she saw a smudge.
It wasn’t until after all the work was completed that she started to think about Everson again. That she began to beat herself up with that nagging question that probably gone through every woman’s mind when their man cheats or almost cheats: What did the other woman have that she didn’t?
Walking into the home office, she logged in under her profile on the desktop computer and started her own investigation, beginning with Facebook. She searched for an Eliana Simmons living in Atlanta and fortunately, found one – the one – without much effort since her name wasn’t a popular one.
Feeling like a cyber stalker, she clicked on the woman’s name to bring up her profile.
“See what you’ve reduced me to, Everson?” she said in a monotone.
She stared at Eliana’s profile picture. The skank heffa just had to be gorgeous, didn’t she? Her plump lips were tinted a shade of red—lips that Everson had kissed. She wondered if he’d also played in Eliana’s long, black hair the same way he liked to play in hers. And then Eliana’s makeup was done to perfection like she was a YouTube beauty blogger with all the highlights in the right places. All the imperfections concealed.
The muscles in June’s jaw quivered. She could already feel her temples throbbing again. Perhaps this was a bad idea. It was only serving to make her more furious than she already was, but she convinced herself to continue on. She needed to know who this woman was. She looked at the ‘Intro’ section:
Work: Head of Communications at Seaton Data Inc. (SDI)
Studied at: University of Arizona
Lives in: Atlanta, Georgia
Followed by 688 people
Then came the photos. Did people not know they could make their Facebook timelines private? Or did they want to showcase their lives to the world, to the haters, just to brag and flaunt their successes? None of Eliana’s albums were private, and she had plenty of them, all with differentiating titles:
-Timeline Photos
-Work Stuff
-Vacay Life
-All Things Jaxson
-Party, Party, Party
-Mountain Trip
-Viva La Mexico
-Where My Girls At
-New Year’s Turn-ups
-Profile Pictures
-Cover Photos
The album that stood out to her was All Things Jaxson since Everson said the boy was his son. Nervously, June chewed on her lip. Should she open this can of worms? Maybe she could look at Jaxson and see some signs that he really wasn’t Everson’s son. At least, that’s what she hoped. Deciding to go for it, she clicked on the album and closed her eyes instantly after seeing just a few of the pictures in the album. The boy did look like Everson. She could see it in his eyes, nose, mouth, face and build.
She clicked on the Work Stuff album and decided to look at more pictures of Eliana. The woman must have been intelligent to land the top position in communications. There were all kind of pictures of her mingling at different work functions, giving seminars and traveling to different countries. According to the caption on the picture she was currently looking at, Eliana had been in China two months ago. And in every photo, she was dressed in business attire, not exposing too much of herself, but modest, like a professional businesswoman and mother.
“Oh my God. That’s it,” June said, reaching an epiphany. She knew what the appeal was of Eliana Simmons. Not only was she an ex-girlfriend of Everson’s, she was a businesswoman. The mother of his child.
June wasn’t a businesswoman, and she had no children. Since Everson told her he didn’t want children until after they’d been married for at least three years, she knew that wasn’t the issue that made him stray. She had a good idea what was, though – Eliana had a career.
A lot of men liked their wives to stay at home so they could feel taken care of, especially the Blackstone men. Barringer was the same way with Calista, as was Garrison with Vivienne before she died. And according to what she’d heard, Bryson’s first wife, Felicia, didn’t lift a hand to do anything, and she still cheated on him.
At any rate, what if that was the issue – how she was a nothing more than a Wilmington housewife while other women were more exciting, had professional and private lives and weren’t just mopping floors all day, scheduling house maintenance appointments, dropping off dry cleaning and buying food.
June never imagined she would be that woman. Domesticated. Cooking almost daily. Washing dishes. Finding reasons to leave the house just to feel like she had a life because, other than that, the only time she felt like she was actually somebody important was when she was with Everson since her main role was being his wife. She could’ve been so much more.
She was college educated. Without the first clue of the kind of job she wanted, she still went to college and worked hard to obtain a degree in the broad business administration program. And when she met Everson three years ago, she was working as an office manager at a medical office. She only quit because he asked her to. Said they would travel together since he was always out of town for work and wanted her to be available to go with him. She couldn’t travel if she was devoted to a job. He made enough money to take care of them. Now what did she have besides regrets?
She exited out of Facebook and logged off of the computer feeling…feeling…nothing. She didn’t feel a thing. No anger. No sadness. No jealousy. She didn’t know what to attribute the feeling to – maybe the supersized Coke and rum – but thank God for the calm that came over her. It would help her have a restful night, one which she hadn’t had in what seemed like forever.