Page 63 of The Marriage Rebound

“Work? Same ol’ same ol’,” Denise answered with a shrug.

“How did that make her feel?” Nish asked, directing the conversation back.

I played with the stem of my glass, recalling how happy and almost thankful Courtney had been that I’d finally done the right thing and acknowledged her accomplishment. “Good. Happy,” I said quietly. “Now, back to y’all. No crazy customer stories to share?” For once I didn’t want to share a moment that had happened between us.

They both rolled their eyes and started laughing, and I knew I was in for some piping tea. For the next two hours it was a good time. Talking, laughing, and just hanging out with my friends over delicious food and drinks. And it provided an excellent distraction. Though not a complete one, as Courtney and our issues . . . my issues, remained shadows in the back of my mind.

“I miss it.”

Nish frowned. “You miss what?”

“Dancin’.”

“For real? I thought you loved being a real housewife,” Denise said. “Isn’t that why you quit in the first place? You were a wife now, you couldn’t be shakin’ your ass for strangers. Ain’t that what you said?”

I picked up my water glass and took a long sip, annoyed at her statement. Denise’s snide comment about disliking women who made their partners their entire personalities did the two-step back to the forefront and it got me heated all over again. But it also pissed me off that she wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Damn. All she said was she missed it, D. Not that she was coming back.”

Denise put her hands up. “My bad. I ain’t mean nothin’ by it.”

“Well . . .”

Tanisha leaned forward. “Well, what? Girl, seriously? You want to go back to working ’til three a.m., wearing eight-inch heels, and dealing with drunk, handsy men? Why?”

Because I lost direction in life when I quit.

Because I made my entire personality being Courtney’s wife.

Because wife is tired of me putting the responsibility of my entire happiness on her shoulders.

“I don’t know. I haven’t made any decisions. Just somethin’ I’ve been thinkin’ about. I was damn good at it. But the hours, and customers.” I did a full-body shake remembering the not-so-good parts of the job.

Denise sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. “What’s going on? Y’all gettin’ divorced so you need a job again?”

“No! What the fuck? Why would you ask me that?” I spoke a little too loud and got looks from some of the surrounding tables.

She shrugged, not seeming the least bit bothered. “Again, you been livin’ the life of a basketball wife, now out the blue you talkin’ ’bout comin’ back to join us commoners.”

“Denise.”

“Nish, you know I’m right. You just be too damn nice to say what we both be thinking.”

I turned to Tanisha. “You were thinkin’ I was gettin’ divorced too?”

She shook her head. “Not exactly. But curious as to what brought about the change because from where we sat, outside looking in, you were enjoying your life off the pole.”

Denise pointed her finger back and forth between the two of us. “See, too damn nice.”

“And why can’t you be too damn nice?” I challenged because she was once again working my nerves.

I took in a deep breath and it hit me like a ton of bricks: Was this how Courtney felt at times dealing with me? The way she shut down and walked away after I kept pushing because I just had to have my way, had to win all the “battles.” I would hazard to guess on some level the answer was yes, and that was a sad, sobering realization.

“Do you ladies need anything else?” the waitress asked, stopping whatever answer Denise was about to give.

We all looked at each other in silent communication, deciding on whether to order more drinks or additional food. “No, we’re good,” I answered.

“Okay. One check or . . . ?”