Secret Indiscretions (19 page)

“Answer me, Geneva,” he said, standing. “Why're you going to Donetta's?”

She stopped in her tracks and looked at him. “I can't stay here a minute longer. For years I've listened to your lies and put up with your cheating ways, and your total disrespect of me and our marriage. But tonight was the very last straw. I can't, and I won't, do this any longer.”

“Geneva, don't leave.”

She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “Don't leave?” she repeated in exasperation. “Most men who plead and ask their wives to stay can at least say
please
. You can't even beg properly. You're pathetic.”

Geneva looked into Johnny's bloodshot eyes. He was staring at her as if she'd just spoken a foreign language, and in many ways she knew she had. They hadn't been on the same page in a very long time, and the reason it was explicitly clear tonight was the fact that she no longer cared. She just didn't give a damn. So without another word, she picked up her handbag, slung her overnight bag on her shoulder, and walked out of the room.

“Geneva, what the hell are you doing?” Johnny yelled down the hall as Geneva headed toward the front door. “Can't you see that I need you? I was attacked tonight. I could've been killed, and all you can do is accuse me of lying. You act like you couldn't care less. What kind of wife treats her husband that way?”

Now she was pissed. She turned around and faced him. “Just stop it! I'm tired, and I don't feel like hearing another word out of your deceitful mouth. You weren't carjacked and you know it. After whatever kind of brawl you got into with whatever tramp who scratched you up, you went straight to Bernard's house to clean up and get your story straight. Then after a few drinks you came home and now you're standing here, still lying through your teeth, trying to make me feel sorry for you. Well, I don't. You asked what kind of wife treats her husband this way? I'll tell you what kind,” Geneva said, narrowing her eyes on his, “the kind who's fed up and just doesn't give a damn anymore.” And with that she turned, opened the door, and walked out.

Once she was settled into the seat of her car, she called Donetta, quickly explained what had happened, and asked if she could stay at her place for a few days. After she hung up the phone, instead of driving straight to Donetta's house, she pulled into a parking space in front of 7-Eleven up the street. She reached into her handbag, pulled out her wallet, and stared at the business card that Samuel Owens had given her.

“I know this is the right thing to do,” she said aloud. She turned the card over and looked at the cell phone number he'd written on the back. Just as she'd had no hesitation in walking out of her house, she opened her text message application. She typed a quick message, pressed send, and then sat back and waited for his response.

I
t was getting late, and Samuel was once again sitting in his den, all alone. But he was anything but lonely. Although he should have been tired after his long day, which included teachers jockeying for elevated status, parents who'd already lodged minor complaints, and new vendors vying for contracts with the school, he was rejuvenated instead. Even with all the challenges in front of him, he still felt as if he was on top of the world, and it was because of Geneva Mayfield.

Samuel opened the carton of chicken lo mein that he'd picked up from the Chinese take-out restaurant near his house. Tonight he was dining as a party of one, but he had a strong feeling that his situation was about to change, and for the better. He reflected on the things that he and Geneva had talked about today, and how they were both ready to make a change.

As he continued to think about Geneva, he wondered what she was doing this evening. He wanted to talk to her and hear her sweet voice that sounded so full of life. He had all her contact information because he'd gotten it from her volunteer application. But he knew that, ethically, he shouldn't call, text, or email her unless there was a very good reason. And although he thought his reason for wanting to speak to her was valid, he knew that until she initiated after hours, non-work-related communication with him, it was wise that he refrained from making the first move. He also reminded himself that even though she was married to a trifling fool, he still was her husband, and he didn't want his call to cause more problems for her.

The fact that he longed to hear and see Geneva reemphasized for Samuel how bad his marriage was. He was in the house he shared with his wife, thinking about another woman, and that could never be good.

On a normal evening, Samuel would have been bothered by the fact that Vivana still hadn't come home at such a late hour, and that she didn't have the decency to call and let him know where she was. But tonight he really didn't care because his thoughts were focused on Geneva. He wanted to know where she was, and how she was doing. He wondered what her evening was like. Had she eaten a good dinner? Was she tired? How did she like to spend her free time—reading a book or watching TV? What did she prefer to sleep in—a cotton nightshirt or silk lingerie?

Samuel found himself smiling as he thought about how exciting it was going to be to discover the answers to all his questions. Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted when he heard the garage door engage. Vivana was home. He was disappointed for a split second, but that feeling quickly faded and was replaced by a sense of urgency. He knew that if he wanted a new life, he needed to put plans into motion to make it happen now.

Samuel closed the carton of Chinese food that he hadn't touched, took it into the kitchen, and placed it in the refrigerator. He stood by the sink and waited for Vivana to enter the house. He could never anticipate what her mood was going to be, especially of late. Her temperament ran hot and cold, making conversation with her unpredictable at best, and at times, adversarial. But tonight he didn't care, because he was no longer concerned. The only person's actions he could control were his own, and he knew what he needed to do.

When Vivana walked through the door, Samuel had to take a second look because he was startled by her slightly disheveled appearance. If there was one positive thing he could say about his wife, it was that she was always put together from head to toe. Vivana never stepped out of the house without her hair in place, her makeup perfectly applied, and her outfit looking stylish. Samuel couldn't attest to what she looked like when she'd left the house today, but he hoped it wasn't how she looked right now.

Vivana slowly limped past him, as if she was in pain. “Why're you limping?” he asked. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“I fell,” she answered in a rushed, flat tone, and headed straight for the refrigerator.

“How and where?”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions.”

Normally, a curt remark like the one she'd just made would've sparked an argument, followed by angry words. But tonight Samuel simply shrugged his shoulders and put his fork and drinking glass in the sink without saying a word.

Vivana noticed his change in demeanor right away. “What're you up to?” she asked.

Samuel wanted to throw the same question back at her. Her hair looked as though a bird had laid a small nest atop her loosely spiral-curled weave, and her linen sundress was badly wrinkled and in need of a good ironing. But the most telling thing of all was her face. The precisely applied eye shadow, eyeliner, and mascara that normally framed her catlike eyes was gone, and replaced by tired, puffy looking slits for lids. He could tell she'd been drinking because she smelled of wine. He reasoned that was why she came in walking slow, limping so as not to stumble and fall. The fact that she'd gotten behind the wheel in that state made him shake his head.

But instead of telling her how irresponsible she'd acted or how bad she looked, he took the opportunity to let her know that he'd come to the end of his rope. “Vivana,” he began. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” she asked as she continued to rummage through the refrigerator in search of food.

“The state of our marriage.”

That got her attention, and he could see that for the first time in months she was actually looking into his eyes.

“I'm not happy,” he continued, “and I haven't been for a very long time. We come and go, passing each other in the hall like roommates. There's no intimacy between us, and I'm not just talking about the physical. We lost our way, and honestly, I don't know if we ever really found or knew what it was to begin with.” He let out a deep breath. “I want a divorce.”

Vivana slowly closed the refrigerator door and leaned her weight against it. “So let me get this straight . . . you want to divorce me?”

“Yes. That's right.”

A long pause hung in the air as he stared at her while her eyes focused on the floor. “What's her name?” she asked.

“I'm not cheating on you. I'm simply unhappy, and I can't continue to live my life like this.”

Vivana shook her head. “Unfuckingbelievable.”

Although her words were biting, her tone was calm. Samuel thought it was telling that she was more engaged in this conversation about divorce than she'd been when he'd tried to talk to her about saving their marriage. He folded his arms across his chest and exhaled. “Okay, then we both agree. I guess now it's just a matter of paperwork.”

Vivana looked at him as if she was in deep contemplation. But as he stared into her eyes she seemed as though her thoughts were a thousand miles away. She was thinking about something serious, and he was sure that whatever it was, it didn't involve him. Her behavior was further proof that he was doing the right thing. “Do you agree?” he asked again.

Vivana nodded. “Yes, you won't get an argument out of me. But I'm gonna tell you right now, I want half. And I want this house, too.”

“Let's leave all of that up to the courts. I'll have my attorney contact yours.”

Vivana smirked, but didn't say anything. She gave him a hard roll of her eyes and then limped toward the guest bedroom on the main floor. She slammed the door behind her, putting an end to their conversation.

Samuel walked back out to the den and reclaimed his seat on the couch. He didn't know how to feel about what had just happened and he didn't have time to process it because his phone chirped, alerting him of an incoming text message. He looked at the screen and immediately felt a rush of excitement when he saw that it was from Geneva. But when he read her message he became worried.

 

 

Samuel instinctively knew that something was wrong because she'd said that she needed, not wanted, to talk to him, which was a big difference. He walked upstairs to his bedroom and shut the door before locking it. Even though he knew that Vivana would be downstairs for the rest of the night, he didn't want to take any chances. He quickly texted Geneva back.

 

 

She responded immediately.

 

 

Samuel hurriedly pressed the call button on his phone. She picked up as quickly as she'd answered his text.

“Hi Samuel,” she said in a soft, easy voice.

“Hello, Geneva. Is everything all right?”

She hesitated for a moment before she began to speak. “Actually, no. It's not. My husband came home tonight and, well, it was just awful.”

“Is he still there?” He figured her husband must be gone, or in another room if she felt comfortable enough to speak freely to him on the phone. But he wanted to be sure.

“I don't know,” she responded. “I think he is. I left a few minutes ago.”

He knew things must have been bad if she had to leave her house. He felt an overwhelming need to protect her, and his first thought was for her safety. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“No, it's nothing like that. I'm physically fine. But emotionally . . .”

“Where are you?”

“In the parking lot in front of the 7-Eleven on Popular Street.”

It was a good twenty minute drive from where he lived. “I'll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Are you sure?”

The relief he heard in Geneva's voice made him want to tell her that he'd make it there in five minutes flat, but he didn't want to defy the laws of motion or get a ticket for reckless driving, so he tempered his response. “Yes, I'm sure. I'll be there in a few.”

“Thank you, Samuel. I'll be waiting.”

“Okay, I'll see you soon.”

He quickly pulled off his sweatpants and t-shirt in favor of a pair of jeans and a black crew-neck shirt. He walked into the bathroom and grabbed his toothbrush with one hand and his hairbrush with the other, grooming himself as if he was in a speed competition. He wiped his face with a damp cloth and then surveyed his reflection in the mirror. He ran his hand over his thick, black hair, which was cut low and neatly faded on the sides. He rubbed the cloth over his clean-shaven face again, and took inventory of his smooth brown skin.

Samuel would have preferred to be thought of as handsome, like his father was. But he was more than happy to accept the distinction of being cute, as he'd been deemed by many women. He knew that his six-foot, three-inch frame could stand to lose a good twenty-five pounds, especially around his midsection. He remembered that Geneva's body looked like she worked out and her waistline was slim and trim. He turned to the side and sucked in his stomach, studying his side view. “I've got to get back into the gym.” But even with a few extra pounds, Samuel knew he still looked good, and was a solid eight on a scale of one to ten.

Samuel hurried down the stairs. The guest bedroom door was shut and he could hear Vivana snoring. He shook his head as he walked into the kitchen and retrieved his keys from the hook on the wall.

Ten minutes later he steered his Mercedes-Benz into the 7-Eleven parking lot right beside Geneva's Toyota Camry. When she looked up and saw him she smiled wide, and he could tell she was happy to see him, which made him feel like he was on top of the world. He rolled down his passenger's side window and motioned for her to get into his car. She nodded.

A few minutes later, Samuel and Geneva were sitting across from each other in a booth in the back of Waffle House, which was the only dine-in restaurant they could find that was open this time of night. After their server brought out their food, Geneva began telling him about what happened once her husband came home.

As Samuel listened, he realized that Geneva's husband was a bigger fool than he'd originally thought. He wondered why a good woman like her had married a louse. But he had to remind himself not to judge because someone could say the same thing about him.

“Johnny has pulled a lot of outrageous stunts,” Geneva said, “but tonight was just too much. I had already decided that I was going to ask him for a divorce and tonight made it completely clear that I'm doing the right thing.”

“Did you ask him tonight?” Samuel asked, then lifted a forkful of eggs to his mouth.

“No, I didn't. There was too much going on and I couldn't listen to another minute of his lies. When I reached my limit I decided to pack a bag and get out of there as quickly as I could before things escalated any further.”

“You did the right thing. Do you have a place to stay?”

Geneva took a small sip of her orange juice. “Yes, my best friend, Donetta, said I can stay with her for as long as I need to. I texted her after you called me to let her know that I'll be a little late getting there.”

“Okay, good. I'm glad you have a safe place to stay,” Samuel said with relief. Then a thought came to his mind. “Do you think your husband will try to come by your friend's house?”

“No, he doesn't even know where Donetta lives. Besides, he can't stand her. He wouldn't go to her house if his life depended on it.”

“Finding out where she lives can be done with the click of a mouse. There's a lot of things a man will do that he normally wouldn't if he's trying to get his woman back.”

Geneva was quiet for a minute. “That's a good point,” she said. “But he didn't do much of anything to try to get me to stay. I don't think I have anything to worry about with him.”