Corruption and Lies
"You have to admit it is pretty exquisite living the life of luxury is it not Jazmine?" I hear one of the wives address me. My mind isn't on their petty chatter. It's on my husband, or the man who calls himself that. Here I am again at these absurd garden parties listening to other wives make small talk about the kids they never see and how wonderful their lives seem to be, pretending, just like me, to not notice how entirely fucked up our marriages really are.
I guess I should count myself as one of the lucky few. My husband is one of the most sought after men in America. He is a champion for the poor men and stands for all that is just and uncorrupt in the Senate. I have to stifle a laugh every time I hear the news casters and commentators use that phrase. My husband may fight for the poor man, and I'll admit he cannot stomach corruption and lies, and yet that is exactly how we live; in corruption and lies.
Looking from the outside in, one would see a beautiful bi-racial family. A loving but intense African American father, a beautiful, soft spoken half White half Black mother, a charming, talented young boy and of course the family's beloved pet, Avenger, the black lab. We live in a beautiful colonial house in the Woodcrest suburb of Maryland, complete with an exquisite Kentucky blue grass lawn big enough to put the White House itself to shame. A hair is never out of place, our clothes are always starched; in all honesty we look like we stepped right out of a 1950's television show, but the fantasy ends there.
"Jazmine?" The ladies look at me in question, and it is then I remembered I had not responded to their earlier excuse to compare the wealth in which we live.
"Of course. We are very fortunate to live a life of such privilege." I gently replied while taking a sip of my pomegranate tea. The women nod and do the same, smiling and sitting like a bunch of peacocks admiring their own beautiful colors. Looking around all I see are filthy rich men and women stuffed up like turkeys on Thanksgiving using this charity benefit lunch-on as a way to protrude their importance. Bright pastel colored sunhats, perfectly sewn designer dresses that cost more than any wedding dress; I was disgusted at the air of entitlement suffocating the otherwise beautifully simple white rose garden. I wanted to lash out at these pompous idiots dining on expensive hors d'oeuvres while others mere miles away starve! This was what my husband was trying to fight against, and though he has made some progress, there is still a long fight ahead.
"Did you have fun?" I looked out of our Leaf hybrid as my husband drove us back home.
"Of course." I could feel him glaring at me.
"I know you hate these-"
"Please, just drive Huey." I didn't want to hear his excuses, he and I both knew why I had to go to those over publicized soirées, it was to keep my father's connections open, should Huey need a little extra sway with the hard-headed white democracy as he called it, but I knew why he really wanted me out of the house.
We arrived home, and truly it's not even that, for there is no heart here, only fake smiles, misery, pain, and a dream long crushed in our troubled marriage.
"Mommy!" My heart lifts as I see my beautiful baby boy run to me. If Huey and my marriage ever did anything right, it was my son. I couldn't help but smile as 'Venge chased after him, expecting a treat to follow our return.
"Oh my baby!" I exclaimed picking him up and tossing him in the air.
"Mommy, I'm not a baby anymore!" His giggle rang through the house, dissolving the sullen atmosphere like sunshine chasing away the fog.
"No matter what, you will always be my baby, X, so get used to it." I smiled. Malcolm Xavier is by far the best thing in my life. I remember when I used to be like him; so innocent, always wanting to see the best in people, always believing the world is made of love. I would do anything to keep the light in his eyes glowing.
"How was your day X?" Huey's smooth baritone enveloping us in its deep timber as he put his arm on the small of my back, ushering us into the kitchen where Rosalind was probably preparing dinner. On the days when I had an activity and wouldn't be home until dark she normally looked after X as well as making sure our home stayed in tip-top shape. I smiled to the older woman as we walked through the portico to the dining room. I set X down and strolled over to her to see what she decided to cook tonight.
"Evening Rose, what master piece have you cooked up tonight?" I leaned over the counter trying to figure out the delicious smells radiating from the stove.
"For the normal eaters of the house I made lemon pepper chicken with green beans and sweet corn,"
"Yummy!" I smiled.
"And for the meat hater, tofu stir fry." We both giggled at her nickname for Huey.
"I don't hate meat; I just don't see the point in eating it." We both shake our heads at his lame excuse.
"I'll make the plates, Rose; you just sit down and rest." I tell the plump Mexican woman as I wash my hands in the sink. Our meal is filled with easy chatter; X tells Huey and I about his day and how he didn't like the 2nd grade already. His father being Huey, X started learning from an early age. As a preschooler he could read and think at a 5th grade level. He even had some educational and political disputes with Huey that left me feeling like the child of the family. So at his current age of 5, I know 2nd grade must feel like a daunting waste of time, however since he's already skipped kindergarten and the 1st grade, I don't want him growing up anti-social, a trait that seems like it can run in the family. Tonight was one of the most relaxing, family oriented dinners we've had in a while, however, nothing stays golden for long. I hear Huey's cell phone go off and know immediately that our family illusion had come to an end; it was time to face reality again. He excused himself and walked out of the room as Rose and I exchanged glances; luckily X was too preoccupied trying not to be caught shuffling corn into the dog bowl.
"X eat your vegetables." I gently scold while excusing myself as well. Tossing my napkin onto my finished plate I head up the stairs to our bedroom.
"You need me now?" I hear him ask as I pause outside the closed door to our room. I'm debating if I really want to put myself through this again; wasn't once enough? I'm starting to wonder if maybe I brought this pain upon myself. I let out a sigh and half-heartedly pushed the door open. His back was to me and he listened to the other party on the phone. I didn't know exactly who he was talking to but by his tone, I knew enough.
"I'll be there shortly." He hung up the phone and tossed it into his pocket.
"Trouble?" I leaned against the door frame and crossed my arms. He turned to me, his mouth set in its usual firm place while his eyes read mine.
"You could say that." A cold chill took over the room and our staring battle had begun. His eyes matched his chilly tone, warning me that tonight was not the night to cross him.
"When will you be back?" I clipped the words at him.
"When I am." His words were colder. He grabbed his keys out of his pocket and made towards me; normally I would move, but tonight, I'd had enough of his bullshit.
"Why don't you ever answer my questions?" I huffed, hoping he would for once open up to me.
"I do answer them, just not the way you would like me to."
"You omit the question."
"I still answer it don't I?" I turned my head away, too disgusted to look at him. He grabbed my arms gently and waited for me to meet his gaze. Sighing, I dragged my emerald orbs to his fine wine ones, praying they'd give me the answers I sought; no such luck.
"Jazmine, I don't want to fight with you tonight. There's something I need to handle right now, I'll be back soon." His voice lost some of its hard edge, just as my shoulders slumped; I was so tired of this. When had our marriage taken a turn for the worst? Was it after X was born? Or was it when he started spending late nights working on proposals instead of coming home, or was it, I shudder to think this, that he had never loved me but simply married me because it was what everyone in Woodcrest expected of us, seeing as we'd been "friends" since the age of ten. I slowly moved from the door way to allow him passage but before he left he kissed my forehead and whispered goodnight.
I watched a little bit of 'The Rachel Madden Show' with my son before giving him a warm bath and taking him upstairs. Rose had gone home for the night but not before sending me a long, saddened look. Rose had been our house keeper since we bought our house with the help of my parents a few years after finishing college, so she had seen the good and bad times in our marriage. I am convinced she knows of all the times I've cried because Huey did not come home, or didn't notice when I had done something different with my hair or make up. He only seemed to notice me when we needed to attend a function together, or if I'd done something that made me look more "white-washed". After enough failed attempts, I stopped caring what he thought because the only comments to ever roll off his tongue where negative and hurtful. Maybe I'm being to overly dramatic, I mean Huey has always been pessimistic, but when we were dating he would notice when I got my hair trimmed, or if I was trying out a new perfume, now it's as if I'm just one of my paintings on the wall and it hurts to think that to my own husband I'm something to be glanced at once and never intensely noticed again.
After reading X a bedtime story about Harriet Tubman and kissing him goodnight, I trudged across the hallway to our empty room. Looking at our bed, I cringed as silent tears made their way down my cheeks, falling to the floor. I promised myself I would be more like him, cold and uncaring but I never quite mastered taking my heart out of my emotions. I had to do something; our relationship couldn't go on like this.
I thought I made the decision not to do this anymore. I thought Jazmine meant enough to me that I would stop; then why am I still here, still hurting her like this? I sit on the bed with my feet on the ground and my head in my hands thinking of how I again went back on my promise. Warm feminine hands ran up my back and began to massage my shoulders. She pressed a sweet kiss behind my ear.
"What's wrong?" Her husky, scratchy voice filled the room. I pulled my head up and turned to look at her. She was so beautiful. Her deep chocolate skin shinned and was soft under my rough calloused hands. Her braids draped over my shoulder as she kissed my neck, smelling of cocoa and shea butter. I loved listening to the light twinkle of the shells and beads incorporated into her dark locks. Yani was everything everyone had expected me to marry back in my days as a domestic terrorist. She was book and street smart, and was never afraid to challenge me or speak her mind. She's an African America studies teacher at the local community colleges. I met her 3 years ago after she had her class write a paper on my exploits as a domestic terrorist, and why I was labeled as such; obviously it was because white America saw me as a threat to their fragile and corrupted vision of peace. She wrote me a letter asking if I would be a guest speaker in some of her classes. After I spoke she asked me if I'd like to get lunch because she wanted to debate some of the topics she did not agree with, and the rest as they say, is history. We slept together a year after our first meeting, and a few times of and on when Jazmine and I would get into arguments over what I can't even remember. I believe Jazmine knows, or at least she suspects it when I'm gone. I feel bad for treating her like this, but Yani is everything I should have married, and a divorce and sex scandal is not what I need at the moment so I need to stop seeing her.
"I think Jazmine knows."
"Oh. Does that make it easier on you?" I gave her my signature look of confusion. How would my wife knowing I'm cheating on her, make it easier on me?
"Well I mean if she knows, then it's not like you're doing this behind her back anymore."
"You have a point, but still I promised I'd be faithful to her, and I haven't. We shouldn't be doing this anymore, hell, should have never started. But you are so damn addictive." I kissed her and felt my body respond. I crawled on top of her and our descent into hell began again.
Once we were through waking up the neighbors, I lay awake with Yani snuggled into my arms, breath fanning against my bare chest. Damn, this woman has me hooked.
"He didn't come home again last night." I balanced the phone on my shoulder while sketching angrily. I had on some of my sexy pajamas under a flimsy robe for modesty and my hair thrown up in a bun; my eyeliner was smeared from sleep. I had planned on surprising Huey when he finished with whatever he had to do, but he never came. I cried myself to sleep again clutching the pillow that used to smell like him.
"Oh girl, are you ok?"
"What the fuck do you think?" I growled into the receiver, cursing as I threw away another piece of broken charcoal.
"Bitch don't get snappy with me because your man didn't come home to get da business." I inwardly smiled as my best friend put me in my place.
"I'm sorry Cindy." I giggled a little. Cindy was my girl, my ride or die chick. Even though she'd calmed down a lot since our younger days, she still wasn't too high and mighty to tell someone off. She had been with me almost since the beginning of my relationship with Huey so she knew how everything was going.
"You think he's creeping?"
"I think he's been creeping for a while. I don't know what to do anymore." Tears fell from my eyes on to the canvas blurring the lines I had so forceful drew. I'm so tired of crying, of being weak, of letting him treat me like some Stepford Wife! I heard her mumble something and another line picked up.
"Hey Jazzy." Riley's smooth voice rang over the phone. I don't know what is in the Freeman genes but they both had voices that could make you cry. Riley had also calmed down a lot; we have the military to thank for that. He'd just gotten back from a tour in Afghanistan, so I didn't know if Cindy kept him abreast with his sister-in-law's problems. I didn't tell him when I wrote to him because the precious letters he was able to write didn't deserve to be saddened with my life while he was over there dodging bullets.
"Hi Riley! How's it feel being back on home turf?" I tried to erase the strain from my voice.
"Cut the bull, Jaz, what's going on." I sighed knowing he wouldn't be deterred from his course.
"Nothing gets passed you. Huey and I have been having problems for a couple of years now, and I don't think I can take it anymore."
"Damn, leave it to my brother to fuck up the best thing to ever happen to his antisocial ass." I giggled at hearing the old Reezy in his voice. It's been awhile since I've felt like laughing.
"Whatcha gonna do?" He questioned.
"I don't know, I'm really too tired to care now. I just want to know if I'm fooling myself in thinking that things will get better."
"Have you suggested counseling?" Cindy asked on the other line, my guess she was probably checking her test results. She and Riley had been working on a baby before he left, but it hadn't worked, from what she told me since he's been back they've been going at it like rabbits, which was more information then I really needed to know.
"Marriage counseling? I'd never thought about it before." I stopped sketching and really considered it.
"It's worth a shot isn't it; I mean if you don't at least try, then divorce is the only option I see." Riley gave a sound of appreciation to the idea. I heard a jingle of keys coming from the front door. I knew it couldn't be Rose; we always gave her Sundays and Mondays off, especially if she'd had X on Saturday. That left only one other option.
"I'll try it, I have to go, he's home."
"Okay girl, good luck."
"Give him hell Jazzy."
"Thanks you guys, oh and good luck with the baby." We said our goodbyes and I mentally prepared myself.
Huey walked through the doorway in a change of clothes he always kept in the car, in case he didn't come home. He pulled his keys out and looked at me while he walked into the living room, where I sat with my supplies spread on the coffee table. He took one look at the charcoals and knew I was upset. Normally I liked to work with acrylics but in times of sadness or lack of inspiration I chose charcoals to highlight my mood.
"Good morning sweetheart." His greeting pissed me off. I hadn't been his sweetheart for months, no, years it seemed.
"Morning." I replied tersely. He removed his shoes and walked to the fridge, probably to drink one of his horrid healthy shakes before he went jogging.
"How'd you sleep?" He would know if he was here.
"Fine, did you handle whatever it was that needed your attention?"
"I did, thanks for asking." Wow, ten years of marriage, and we're already back to the small talk phase, as if we were strangers again dancing on eggshells.
"Do you have any plans for the day?" My eyebrows inched up; he hadn't asked me that in months.
"I have to take X to a classmate's birthday party, but other than that I'm free, what about you." I waited with baited breath for him to ask me to do something with him.
"I have to do some paper work and help Tasha plan my campaign trip around low income schools." My small smile instantly left my face. I understood with the elections coming up soon he needed to be focused but for God sakes was one Sunday with him too much to ask?
"Huey, we need to talk." It was about time I got this off my chest. His left eyebrow rose, signaling that he was listening.
"I want us to go to marriage counseling." There I said it.
"No." I know I misheard him.
"And why not?" My attitude was about to explode.
"We don't need to go to some poor excuse of a therapist so we can expose all of our views about each other only for them to ask us how we feel about a situation. Then they get a great story to tell at some convention while the victims of their prodding are torn to pieces by each other's complaints. They only listen because their being paid to and we do the same thing here without needing to spend hundreds of dollars."
"So you agree that there's a problem in our marriage."
"Of course I do Jazmine, I'm not blind."
"So then why aren't we going to go to counseling?" My voice was getting louder and louder; it's a great thing that X can sleep through the second coming of Christ because I was about to unleash hell.
"Because I said we don't need to go, so we are not going Jazmine." A inwardly counted to 10, blew out a sigh and counted to 10 again.
"I have had it up to here with you!" He dodged the canvas I threw at him and looked at me as if I'd lost my mind, and at this moment, I had.
"You stuck up, egotistical, racist son of a bitch! I'm done trying to be the perfect wife! I'm done crying myself to sleep every night because I'm so revolting to you; you can't even stay here more than 2 nights a week! I'm done Huey, I give up; I'm so done." I couldn't hold the tears of rage from making an angry path down my face.
"Jazmine, you are overreacting."
"I'm overreacting…maybe if you actually gave a fuck about your family I wouldn't be overreacting!" He just raised his stupid eyebrow as if I was a child throwing a temper tantrum. We stared at each other; I in disbelief that he really had nothing to say, him in disbelief that I would still act so childish in expressing myself. I took a deep breath and began picking up my art supplies.
"Fine, if you don't want to go to counseling fine. The paperwork will be on your desk by tomorrow." My voice was soft and cracking. I cannot believe our relationship is ending like this, but as I said, I was done.
"What paperwork?"
"I'm filing for divorce." With my voice hardened and my back to him, I trudged up the stairs to wake up X and get him ready.
I sat at my desk shell shocked. Did she really say she was filing? I knew things between us were worse than bad, but I never considered that she would actually walk out on me. After our argument I went to my study to try and get some paperwork done but every time I began to fill something out, I glanced at my wedding ring and Jazmine's pain filled voice rang coldly through my head. I was at a crossroad. If I let her file then I wouldn't have to sneak around with Yani anymore but it would be too hard on X, for all his intelligence he was still just a 5 year old boy who needed to believe in something good in the world. I heard the door unlock and footsteps make their way up the stairs, away from me. She was home.
I walked up the stairs and up to our bedroom. Her shoulders immediately stiffened and she stopped whatever it was she was doing. I walked into the room and could see suit cases lying on the bed and the floor.
"You were serious." I watched her throw a tank top into one of her bags.
"Did you think I wasn't." Her snappy responses were starting to piss me off.
"So you're just going to leave, what about X?"
"What about him? He didn't matter enough to you last night."
"Fix your tone Jazmine." I warned her, though one has to develop a lot of patience with parenthood and politics, I still had a temper.
"I'm going to leave X here, he needs as much stability as he can get right now. Once I have a place of my own, we'll talk about shared custody." She had the whole thing planned out. She picked up her suitcases and was about to walk out when I grabbed her shoulders. I could see her brain working, and wondered what she was thinking.
"Let me go Huey." She sounded tired; she looked tired. Maybe I should just let her go; I hadn't been faithful to her in years, and she deserved better.
"I'll try counseling. We can at least try to work this out." I don't know what possessed me to change my mind. Perhaps it was because Jazmine didn't want to give up on us; all she wanted was for me to try. Or maybe it was because deep down, I didn't want to lose someone who had at one time been the only person by my side when no one else believed me. I didn't want to throw away our relationship of 20 years
"And if it doesn't the paperwork will already have my signature on it."