When I showed up for therapy at my usual time, Roberta’s receptionist informed me that she’d had to leave unexpectedly and that we would have to reschedule. Her eight-year-old son had fallen on the school playground and broken his arm, so Roberta was with him in the emergency room. I was sorry to hear that, but I wasn’t stressing it at all. To tell you the truth, I was thinking about cutting back our twice-weekly therapy sessions to once a week anyway. Things were just getting too intense as of late, and I wasn’t sure I could take much more. They called it therapy, but to me it was starting to become more like torture.
I’d originally come to see Roberta for help with my marriage and sexual shortcomings, but now I was coming face-to-face with issues and secrets that probably should have just remained buried. In our last few sessions, she had me talking about stuff that was just way too close to home and totally off topic, as far as I was concerned, not to mention none of her business. Besides, things between Loraine and me had gotten so much better now that we’d had our conversation about my aunt. Where I thought she would be appalled, she actually embraced me, and I was grateful for her love and support. Sure, there was still the premature-ejaculation issue, but now that she knew where the root of the issue lay, she actually seemed relieved. I guess she felt better knowing that it wasn’t something wrong with her. It’s funny what peace of mind can do, because lately she’d been humming and singing like all her frustrations had been swept away in one night. If she wasn’t so close to menopause, I’d swear she was pregnant because lately she almost glowed.
On the way home from Roberta’s office, traffic was so backed up that I decided to take back roads home and pick up some Chinese food from this place on Parham Road that the whole town seemed to be raving about. I’d wanted to bring Loraine there, considering how much she loved Chinese, but it would have to be another day.
I’d spoken to her about a half hour ago, and she told me she had some big dinner meeting up in Fredericksburg with a client. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be home until sometime around eleven, so I’d be eating shrimp and broccoli and egg rolls by myself.
As I sat at the light waiting to make the turn into the Chinese restaurant, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, because across the street, pulling out of the restaurant parking lot, I saw the prettiest metallic-blue Cadillac. Now, I’ll be the first to admit I like the new Caddies, but it wasn’t the car that almost made me break my neck doing a double take. It was the woman sitting in the passenger’s seat. I swear she looked just like my wife. Of course, she couldn’t be, because Loraine was in Fredericksburg at a meeting.
I watched the Caddie pull out and disappear in the traffic down Parham Road. Now, call it a hunch, a gut feeling, psychic abilities, or just plain curiosity, but when the light turned green, something told me to follow that car instead of going to the restaurant. I drove for almost a mile before I was able to catch up to the Caddie, and when I did, I almost slammed into the back of the car in front of me because I was staring so hard at the Cadillac. The driver made a left turn, and I was able to get a better look at the passenger. She didn’t just look like my wife. That woman was my wife! My stomach plummeted like an elevator with a broken cable, and my heart pounded in my chest like a jackhammer. To make matters worse, there was no doubt in my mind that the guy driving the car was that son of a bitch she used to mess with. I cut off two other drivers to make a quick left, leaving a trail of blaring horns behind me.
Another half mile or so down the road, I caught up with them again. They clearly had no idea I was behind them, because Loraine was leaning on him and kissing his neck.
So much for our little celibacy pact. Now I knew why her mood had changed and she was so damn happy all the time. While I was in therapy, she was out on the street getting a little sexual healing. Jealousy and rage coursed through my body, escaping through my fist as I pounded the steering wheel.
I thought about plowing my car into the back of Michael’s Caddie, but the hand of reason held me back. Instead, I continued to follow them—for what, I wasn’t sure quite yet.
I knew there was a good possibility that they were headed to a motel, and as I envisioned the confrontation we would have in the parking lot, I did a quick mental inventory of the contents of my trunk. My golf clubs were still in there. Perfect. By the time I got through with him, Michael’s face would be bruised the same shade of blue as his Cadillac, and his car would need more body work than he could ever afford.
I smiled as I imagined myself swinging a nine iron into the windshield of his shiny car, but the feeling was only temporary. As I trailed a few cars behind them, I could see Loraine’s hands waving all over the place, the way they often did when she was talking excitedly. Oh, she was all comfortable and cozy with this dude. Suddenly, I couldn’t handle this ruse any longer. I couldn’t take another minute.
At the next red light, I swerved around another car and screeched to a halt alongside them, blowing my horn like I’d lost my fucking mind. Michael and Loraine looked in the direction of the sound, at first appearing angry, like they were going to tell someone off for honking at them. But when she realized who she was looking at, Loraine’s eyes widened and her mouth flew open. She put her hand over her mouth.
“That’s right, bitch! You been busted!” I screamed as I lowered my window. “Get out that car,” I hollered, pointing my finger at her. “Get out the fucking car!”
I could read Loraine’s lips: Oh my God.
“Is that all you got to say? Get the hell over here RIGHT NOW!” I opened my car door and stepped out. By now, the light had changed, and the driver behind Michael leaned on his horn. Michael moved his car forward. For a second I thought that punk was going to drive away and make me chase him like a maniac through the streets of Richmond, but suprisingly he acted like he had some sense, pulling over to the side of the road.
A few more drivers honked their horns, signaling for me to move, but I just flipped them off. There was plenty of room for them to drive around my car. I had more important things to take care of.
I could see some conversation going on between them as I approached his car. Loraine touched Michael’s shoulder as if to say, Don’t do anything. Please don’t do anything. Hmph. She just didn’t know. I was ready to beat Michael’s ass right there in the middle of the street.
I was about to bang on the windows, but Loraine came to her senses and got out of the car. She didn’t even look at me. She just scooted out of Michael’s car, walked around to mine, and climbed into the passenger’s seat. She had barely gotten her leg in the door when I jumped in and sped off with a lurch.
“I should whip your fucking ass!” I hollered at her. “I don’t believe this shit. Here I am going through therapy, trying to keep our marriage together, and you out messing with this man.”
I was surprised at how calm her voice remained. “Leon, it’s not what you think.”
“Oh, it’s not? Well, then, why don’t you fucking enlighten me!”
“We were just having a business meeting. He just wanted to talk to me about some business.”
Was this bitch for real, or did she just think I was the dumbest motherfucker on Earth? A business meeting with a dude she used to fuck.
“Business, huh? I thought you had a business meeting in Fredericksburg with Mary Dupree. If I remember correctly, you was just getting off at her exit.” She didn’t have much to say about that. “I can’t believe you could do me like this.”
“I’m sorry, Leon. But you gotta believe me; I wasn’t gonna do anything with him. You got this whole thing wrong. I love you, baby, and only you.”
I turned my head completely in her direction. “If you don’t shut your lying-ass mouth, I’m gonna slap your ass to next week. Now, try my ass if you want to.” It had been a long time since an argument had escalated to this level, but I was done with this whole calm, cool, and collected “let’s talk this out” shit. I mean, look how far it had gotten me: a wife who was walking all over me.
I turned my attention back to the road. “We’re gonna finish this conversation when we get home.”
I drove the rest of the way in silence. I was so blinded by rage that I don’t know how I made it home without running a red light or running someone over.
As soon as I stomped into my house, I went straight for the bar in the family room, where I poured myself a healthy glass of Hennessey. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I was two seconds away from whipping Loraine’s ass when she came in the house, only I was scared that if I did, I might push her into that bastard’s arms for good. As fucked up as it was, I still loved her.
“Leon.”
Loraine came into the family room, looking all guilty. I think she was expecting to get her ass beat, but still, she was holding her head up like she hadn’t done anything. It was as if she’d declared, This is my story, and I’m sticking to it.
I gulped down my drink and took a deep breath, trying to control my fury. “You want a divorce? You want me to move out?”
She stared at me in shock. “No, this is our house, and you’re my husband. Neither one of us is going anywhere.”
I poured another drink. “So you gonna tell me what I did to deserve this? ’Cause you told me sex wasn’t that important if two people had love.”
“You don’t deserve this at all. This is all my fault, but it’s all a big misunderstanding.”
“You damn right it’s your fault. All I wanna know is how long have you been fucking his ass?”
“Leon, I haven’t—”
Before she could spit out another lie, the doorbell rang.
“Who the hell is that?” I bellowed, thinking that whoever it was had a pretty good chance of getting punched in the mouth if they said the slightest thing to piss me off.