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I sat at my desk staring at my computer screen, Erik heavy on my mind. He left early this morning for work without saying a whole lot to me. He kissed me and told me he’d be home later, that was it.
I threw my ink pen down on my desk, wishing I could get some work done, but I can’t. All I can do is think about my husband. I thought I was going to be okay with him being gone so much, but now it’s really starting to take a toll on me. I realize he’s a doctor with an insane traveling schedule, but this is just too much. I can’t be in a marriage by myself, or with a man that’s home for about seventy-two hours before he’s gone again for days at a time. I’m starting to wonder what have I gotten myself into? Who did I really marry, and why is he never home?
“Hi, Courtney.” The voice that came toward me snapped me out of my trans.
I took a deep sigh before I spoke to her. “Hey, Epiphany, how’s it going.” Epiphany Morgan is a teller here at the bank. She’s kind of cute. If I liked girls, which I don’t, I would probably give her a try. On second thought, I probably wouldn’t. Mama would disown me if I brought a white girl home. She always said, “Son, if you can’t use her comb, don’t bring her home.” So instead of a blonde hair, blue eyes, I got me a big black man! I don’t think that’s exactly what Mama had in mind.
“Epiphany, what can I do for you?”
“I need you to sign this for me, please. It’s over my limit.”
It was a two-hundred-thousand-dollar cashier’s check. I scribbled Courtney Byrd across the front and handed it back to her.
Epiphany smiled at me and said, “Thank you.” She caught me off guard when she asked, “Would you like to get something to eat after work? Maybe catch a movie or something?”
Is she serious? I mean, I haven’t come out and told the entire banking center staff and clientele that I’m gay, but I’m sure my sexuality isn’t a secret. My waist is thinner than most of the girls that work here for heaven sakes! I keep my nails manicured; everything I wear is designer from my dry clean only cashmere knits, to my blended argyle socks.
I wanted to scream, Epiphany, I’m married . . . to a man, you dumb bitch! but I didn’t. Instead, I smiled back and said, “Can I take a rain check?” I don’t think she was expecting that because she didn’t say anything. She just looked at me as if I had crushed her dreams of having a romantic night out with me, which I did.
“Uh . . . sure. Some other-some other time.”
I repeated, “Some other time.” She turned around with a look of defeat. Maybe I should’ve just been honest: “Hey, Epiphany, hon, I’m gay, and married to a wonderful man, Dr. Erik Reynolds.” I didn’t want to do that to her and make her feel even worse. Besides, my personal business is just that: my-personal-business, which means it’s none of hers or anyone else’s at Citizens Bank.
When my desk phone started to ring, I answered it with a dry, “This is Courtney.”
“Smile.”
The voice on the other end of the phone took me by surprise. It sounded like Erik, but I knew he’d be in meetings all day, so I didn’t get my hopes up. I’m sure the caller was just another one of my old, creepy Monday morning customers calling in for me to balance his checkbook as if I studied at Yale for four years to balance a checkbook other than my own.
“I miss you so much, baby.”
It wasn’t some creepy customer; it’s Erik!
I perked up as a smile covered my lips. “Erik . . . This is a surprise.” I got up to close the door to my office so that I wouldn’t have any interruptions.
“A good surprise, I trust. And why did you sound so down when you answered?”
I didn’t answer him because I started to cry right there on the phone.
“Courtney, why are you crying?”
“I-I miss you, Erik. I thought I could take you being away from me, but I can’t.” I sniffled. “I’m tired of waking up without you. I’m tired of going to bed alone. Eating dinner alone.”
“Court, please don’t cry. I can hear you’re upset, but I want you to calm down, babe. I’m right here.”
“No, you’re not here, you’re on the phone, Erik! You’re never home. You’re never with me. And when you are, it’s not long before you’re running out the door to leave again. I miss you.” I cried harder. “I need you, Erik.”
“I know you do, Courtney, and I miss you too. I know these trips and seminar weekends are killing you, but they’re killing me too.”
Were they really? I didn’t hear any sobs coming from his end of the phone. I was the only one balling, doing that Oprah ugly cry thing again.
“Look, I have a surprise for you.” I’m listening. “When I get back from Boston this week, we’re going to take a vacation.”
“A vacation?” I sniffled some more.
“Yes, a vacation. I’m taking us to Jamaica.”
Whoa, Jamaica? I hope he wasn’t talking about Jamaica, Queens. I am not going there.
“Did you hear me, Courtney? We’re going to Jamaica.”
I eased in with, “Jamaica, as in the island, right?” I know that was a dumb millennial question, but I have to be sure before I jump up and click the heels of my twelve-hundred-dollar Tanino Crisci’s.
“Yes, the island.” He laughed. “Where did you think I was talking about, Queens?”
“No . . . I just . . . This is just such a shock.” My tears stopped instantly.
“Does that mean you’ll come with me?”
I wanted to yell YES in twenty different languages.
I’m sure the banking center could hear me screaming from behind my closed door because I was shouting at the top of my lungs. “Of course, I’ll come with you!” I would follow this man anywhere. He knew that. Well, anywhere except for Jamaica, Queens.
“Then it’s set. I’ll be home this Friday. We can leave Sunday. Just me and you. A whole week. No office. No interruptions. No cell phones. No nothing. We haven’t officially taken our honeymoon yet because of my schedule, but I’m taking some time now, babe.”
My gloom quickly turned into something special with my husband on the other end of the phone, sounding as if he was reading a script from inside of my mind because he was saying exactly what I wanted to hear. It sucks that I have to spend the rest of the week without him, but come Friday morning, he was mine all mine, and I could not wait.
“Hey Court, I have to jet, but I’ll see you first thing Friday morning, okay. And stop all that crying; Daddy will make it all better Friday.”
I gripped my receiver when I said, “Friday morning, Daddy.”
Jamaica, here we come!