Chapter 7

Makeena

 

 

By the time I get myself together enough to emerge from the bathroom – roughly an hour later – Royce is gone. With puffy eyes and a reddened nose, I walk to the kitchen to discover that Royce hasn’t touched his food. Our plates are still made – cold and all – sitting on the table. Untouched.

I glance outside to see that Royce’s car isn’t in the driveway. He’s gone. I should feel relieved since, after his admission, I could use some space right now, but at the same time, I feel like I need him near me. I sigh, leaning against the front door. What now?

I can’t help but wonder if it was something I did or didn’t do to make him feel this way. Or did he just not want me anymore. Did he miss his old life that much – his work of rescuing people – that he’d be willing to leave me to go back to that lifestyle?

When hours pass and I realize he’s not coming home, I go to bed, worried and all – about him and our relationship. He needs time to think, and if it takes this much time, then I feel like his decision won’t be in my favor.

 

The next day, Sunday, he still doesn’t show up. And now, even at our family dinner, he doesn’t show. We’re all sitting around the dining room table at my parent’s house – Wendell, Jr., Dad, Mom and Meghan – but there’s no Royce. Now the family is going to be asking me questions regarding his whereabouts. Why wouldn’t they? They love Royce and has taken him in like a member of the family. He is a member of the family, my husband, and my parents will forever see him as the man who rescued me.

“Makeena, will Royce be joining us?” mom asks.

And so it begins…

“I don’t know,” I reply, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. I glance down at my phone to check for missed calls. There are none from Royce or anyone else.

“Oh,” she says. “Is he sick or something?”

“No, Ma,” I tell her. It still feels weird calling her Ma, or any other variation of mother, but I’m trying. “No. He’s not sick.”

“Well, where he at?” Meghan chimes in then bites into a pork chop.

“Um—” I say, stalling for time. I have no idea what to tell her or the rest of them.

Luckily, I have an observant father who recognizes how flustered I am and says, “Let’s just enjoy dinner.” In essence, he’s telling everyone to chill out and leave me alone. I feel relieved. Then I glance up at my brother, watching his frown grow. I’m not sure if he’s upset with me or if Royce’s absence has him irritated.

“Makeena, how do you like it here?” dad asks. “Do you like living here in Petersburg?”

This line of questioning isn’t new. He’s asked me this before, like two weeks after I moved here. So him asking me now tells me he knows something about Royce’s issues. I should’ve taken Wendell Jr.’s advice and talked to my father about Royce’s issues. Maybe then, the conversation would’ve been a lot easier.

“Yes. I like it here, Dad. I told you I did. I always wanted a family and when I realized I had one, I wanted nothing other than to meet all of you and stay here and get to know you and everyone else.”

“Aw, so sweet,” Meghan says.

I glance up at mom, watching her smile.

“Well, we wanted to meet you, too,” she says. “So many years went by when we didn’t know if you were dead or alive. We’re lucky to have you here with us.”

I look at Wendell, Jr. I told him how mom always brings up the past, the kidnapping and all the trauma they had to endure. He admonished me to change the subject whenever she did it again. Now, he sees for himself just how difficult that is.

I attempt to eat even though I feel like puking right about now. I still have no idea where Royce has run off to, but I know one thing – for him to not show up for dinner says a lot. He’s never missed a family dinner. This evening, he was missing in action.

“Makeena, can you help me with dessert?” mom asks.

“Sure,” I say, eager to get up from the table following her to the kitchen.

Mom takes a knife from the drawer and uncovers a chocolate-coconut cake.

“You know it’s probably overwhelming for him,” she says. “This is new to Royce. He told us all about his work and a man who’s high-strung like that, dear, will have a difficult time living the kind of life we live. I’ve watched him sit at dinner and twiddle his fingers. It’s boring to him.”

“Don’t think that, Ma. Royce likes being here with my family.”

“I know he does. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying it’s difficult. A man with all those huge muscles like that needs to put those muscles to good use. Right now, he’s not.”

“He is. You don’t think he’s using those muscles working with Dad?”

“He is, just not in the capacity that he wants to use them.”

“So does that warrants him leaving me?”

“Leaving you?” mom asked, eyebrows raised.

“Well, not leaving for good,” I say, backpedaling.

“Nah, you done said it now. Go ahead and tell me what’s going on, Makeena.”

“Okay. He left last night and I haven’t seen or heard from him since. I don’t know if he’s coming back. That’s the part that scares me.”

Mom grins. “No need to worry, baby. He’s coming back.”

“How can you be so sure?”

With a long, sharp knife, she begins slicing the cake. “Honey, let me tell you something about a man – a man knows when he’s got a good thing. Royce might be struggling, but he ain’t crazy. He’ll be back for you.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“So, in the meantime, what do I do? I don’t have a job. He’s the one working. Maybe I need to get a job. I need to support myself.”

“You’re panicking,” mom says, touching Makeena’s forearm. “He’ll be back.”

 

Later when I arrive back home, I see Royce’s car in the driveway.

He’s back, just like mother said he would be.

I sit in the car for a moment, trying to prepare myself for what he’s going to say. What if he wants to move back to Norfolk? What if he wants to give up his job and end our marriage to go chasing excitement?

I sigh.

There was only one way to find out. When I enter the house, I see Royce sitting on the sofa with his elbows resting on this thighs. His fingers are interlocked like he was anticipating my arrival, ready to talk to me.

He looks at me. We lock eyes.

He doesn’t say a word. Just stares like he’s found himself in a conundrum.

I couldn’t bring myself to say anything either, so I continue on to the bedroom, step out of my shoes and sit down and sigh. The tension is back – similar to the feeling of when we’d first lived together on the base in Norfolk.

“Hi.”

I turn to the door, to the sound of his voice and watch him perch up there. “Hi,” I reply, standing up. “I was just about to take a shower and get ready for bed, so…”

He crosses the floor over to me. “Can we talk for a minute?”

“No. I’m in no mood for talking right now, Royce.”

“Makeena, wait.” He touches my arm.

“Royce, I know you don’t want to be here, okay, so—”

“I do want to be here. I love you, Makeena.”

I cross my arms. “But you didn’t love me enough to come home last night.”

“Because I needed time to think.”

“To think about whether or not you wanted me. I get it, Royce. You didn’t ask for any of this. You were doing a job and somewhere in between, you got entangled with me. While you were thinking about what your next move would be, I was thinking about mine. If you’re not happy, and I know you’re not, then I don’t want you to be here, Royce. I won’t be that selfish where I would make you stay somewhere you don’t want to be. And I definitely don’t want you to be here out of any sort of obligation to me. You don’t owe me your loyalty. It’s not like you sought me out to love. The only reason you love me is because I loved you first. Because you got too close to a subject—”

“That’s not tru—”

“Let me just say what I have to say, Royce. I feel like you were never supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be here without you. So, let me just be here. Without you.”

I continue on to the bathroom. I thought I would fall apart and lose it altogether but standing in the bathroom now, undressing, I turn on the shower and waited until the water warmed up a bit, then I step inside. I love my husband. Love him with everything inside of me. I need him. Want him. What I don’t want is a man who isn’t happy. What would be the point? If he isn’t happy, then neither am I.