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“I’m so behind with watching your videos. Work is killing me, home is…never mind.”
I stared at myself in the mirror. Satisfied that I was camera ready, I picked up my phone and crossed the hall to my studio. “What is it?”
“Nothing. I can’t deal with you saying something crazy about my marriage today. Not today.”
I sat down at my desk and wondered if I should have worn something more colorful instead of the black, “My Hair Defies Gravity” t-shirt, then remembered I was getting paid to wear it on camera. “Nay, you can tell me. I promise I won’t say anything. I’ll just listen.”
She sighed into the phone. It was around 3:00 PM, so I knew she was still at work, probably locked up in her office. “I think Robert is cheating again.”
I held the phone in silence. I mean, I had promised not to say anything, and besides that, it wasn’t exactly a shock to hear it. Anyone with one-tenth of a brain knew it was bound to happen again. I was sure Renee knew, whether she was willing to admit it to herself or not.
“Angie?”
I took my cue, and asked, “Why do you think that?”
“Because I see all the same signs from before, but it’s actually worse this time. Not only is he staying out late, but he’s got such an attitude with me when he’s at home. And I haven’t even confronted him about what he’s doing. I’ve just been taking it.”
Like Mama, I thought. But at least Mama finally got tired of Daddy’s crap and put him out. I hoped it didn’t take Renee forty years to reach that point.
“Angie, I just want my marriage to work,” she continued. “I don’t want a divorce.”
“I know you don’t,” was all I could think to say. I left off, “But you should want one because your husband isn’t worth the spit it takes to curse his unattractive, sorry ass.”
“Well, I’ve bothered you enough. Let me get back to work. Talk to you later. Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime, Nay. And I mean that. Call me whenever you want. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
As soon as I hung up, a text message from Ryan popped up on the screen of my phone.
Ryan: Dinner tonight? My place?
Me: Sure.
Ryan: Cool. Can’t wait.
Me: Me, either.
*****
“Luther Vandross or Barry White?” Ryan asked, as he bit into a slice of pizza. I was finally getting to cash that rain check.
“You always do this, Ryan. You know they’re too different. I can’t choose,” I replied, crossing my legs Indian-style on my spot on the floor.
“First name that pops in your head. Luther or Barry?”
“Luther, but that’s because it’s the first name you said. There’s really no comparison. Who’s your choice?”
“Barry, of course. You know how many babies that man’s voice is responsible for creating?”
“And Luther’s voice hasn’t dropped any panties?”
“I didn’t say that. I just think Barry’s the better choice.”
I grabbed a napkin from the coffee table and wiped my hands. “My turn. Sade or Anita Baker?”
“Hell, naw! You did not just do that!”
