Past
The first weekend after our honeymoon, I sat on the bed watching Travis pack for his four-day workweek, and I realized that I didn’t want him to go. It was silly of me, because I knew probably better than he did what type of time-consuming effort was going to go into making his business a success. And I did want him to be a success—more than anything. I wanted to know that I had married more than a pretty face.
Travis gingerly placed his much worn black suit in a garment bag. I frowned when I noticed frayed edges on the pant hem and a rip in the lining of the jacket. Who was going to take him seriously if he was dressed that way?
“Travis, what time do you have to leave today?” I asked.
“Well, I want to get on the road as soon as possible. Why?”
“I think we need to go shopping. I’m sick of seeing you in that black suit. You can buy some suits and have them tailored when you get to Detroit.”
His face lit up. “I was wondering when you were going to share the wealth.”
I smiled, but I didn’t know what he meant by that statement. Hadn’t I been sharing the wealth already? Weren’t we living in my home, and wasn’t he driving my car? I knew that eventually I had to start thinking of things as “ours,” but that was going to take some time.
Since I had absolutely no idea where to shop for a man’s clothing, I let Travis lead the way. We went to a downtown men’s boutique that specialized in top-of-the-line designer apparel. The owner of the shop was already acquainted with Travis; he gave him a big bear hug when we walked in the door.
“T! It’s been ages. Where have you been hiding?”
Travis laughed. “I’ve been off falling in love, man. This is my lovely wife, Charmayne.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” I beamed at Travis’s compliment.
Travis continued, “Charmayne, this is Mr. Shane. He dresses the successful men in this city. I’ve been window-shopping here for years.”
Mr. Shane took Travis to the back of the store to show him some new arrivals while I browsed around on my own. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped when I saw the price tags on the suits. Even the cheap-looking ones were priced eight hundred dollars and up.
Travis came out of the fitting room wearing a four-button gray single-breasted suit. There were very faint pinstripes that were only visible up close. Mr. Shane had accessorized the suit with a black dress shirt and a black, gray, and red tie. Travis posed in front of the mirror, and I had to admit that he looked like a model.
Travis exclaimed, “This is perfect! A couple more hookups like this and I think I’ll be set. I’m going to need some shoes, too.”
“Gators?” asked Mr. Shane.
“What else?” replied Travis as if the question were ludicrous.
By the time Travis was finished shopping, he’d racked up a bill of over five thousand dollars. I reluctantly pulled out one of my gold cards to pay for the purchases. I hadn’t spent five thousand dollars on clothes in ten years.
Mr. Shane congratulated Travis as I handed him the credit card. “I see you done came up this time, man.”
Travis grinned sheepishly. Somehow I felt like there was an inside joke that was being told at my expense. I looked at my husband for an explanation, and he put his hand around my waist and pulled me close to him.
“He’s just jealous that he doesn’t have a successful black woman at his side,” Travis explained.
On the way home, Travis was in a great mood—humming along with the radio and clapping his hands. I, on the other hand, felt uneasy. I had the irrational feeling that I was getting him all dressed up for another woman. I didn’t know how or when the feeling had emerged, but it was real nonetheless.
“So,” I asked when Travis stopped at a red light, “what will you do in Detroit when you’re not working?”
Travis laughed. “I’ll be working the whole time, but if I have a free moment, I’ll try to catch up with my boy Les. Anna will probably cook a nice dinner for me. You don’t have any problems with that, do you?”
“With Anna cooking you a meal? No. Of course not.”
Travis teased, “What? You don’t mind another woman feeding your man?”
I replied lightly, “Honey, you’re a grown man. I hope that you can feed yourself. I ain’t your mama.”
A grinning Travis answered, “You my sugar mama.”
I felt my face turn into a scowl. What in the world had he meant by sugar mama? Women got with sugar daddies just to make sure that their bills were paid. It had nothing to do with love or even lust—merely commas in a bank account. For Travis to say that after I’d spent five thousand dollars on him was tasteless and hurtful. Did he feel that way about me? Was I his sugar mama?
Travis noticed my turn of moods and said quickly, “You know I’m only playing, right?”
I nodded but didn’t say anything else. I turned to look out of my window, still stunned by his choice of words.
When we got home, Travis packed his purchases into the back of his work van along with his other luggage. I watched him in silence, feeling insecure. I walked back into the house, and he followed me in to say his good-byes for the long weekend.
He pulled me into an embrace. “I’m going to miss you, sweetheart. Promise to call me every day.”
“Of course I will.” I smiled up at him, feeling helpless to make any further objections.
He picked up his briefcase and my laptop and headed for the door. He had asked to use my computer on the road, and I didn’t see any problem with it, even though it was owned by the bank. He was only going to use it to check his e-mail, and it was just sitting on my desk gathering dust.
As if something had just jogged his memory, Travis said, “By the way, when I get back home, we have some very important things to discuss.”
“Like what?”
“Like how we need to set up our finances.”
“What’s wrong with the setup that we have now?”
“There wouldn’t be anything wrong with it if we were roommates. We’re one flesh, but our money is separate.”
I didn’t like where Travis was taking the conversation. I had worked hard for every penny I’d earned, and I wasn’t in a big hurry to put his name on everything, especially not after he’d just called me a sugar mama. Besides, he seemed way too eager for me to do so. I knew that as a Christian woman, I should submit to my husband and let him take the lead, but I could see that it was going to be a gradual process.
I kissed him on the cheek. “Well, let’s talk about it when you get back home.”
“I’m serious, Charmayne. I don’t like feeling like you’re keeping secrets from me. I didn’t know that you had a gold American Express card.”
I laughed. “Do you want to see my portfolio or something?”
“Yes,” Travis replied. His face did not reveal one hint of humor.
“All right, Travis. When you get home, we’ll meet with my financial planner.”
This seemed to appease him. “It’s not that I’m trying to take anything from you. I know you’re successful. It’s just that you know everything I have.”
I thought, Of course I know everything you have! You ain’t got nothing! But I didn’t vocalize my thoughts; just nodded and hugged him again as he walked out the door. We would meet with my financial planner when he got home, but only after I’d talked to her first. I was going to protect some of my assets, and make sure that they stayed mine. Travis was my husband, but my mama didn’t raise no fool.