Cracked Roots & Roses 23: Woman to Woman

During this time, I decided I wanted to move closer to the dealership. Jeremy would be moving in with his mom soon, and I wanted my daughter to be in a better school. We had a few bitter parting arguments, but there was nothing left. Our relationship couldn’t endure the loss of our child, but that was no secret—it was founded on nothing. We both knew that but gave it a shot anyway. I just wish I had some wisdom back then. I would’ve never accepted such a proposal, and I would’ve stopped the wedding knowing how it would end.

Anyway, I got all moved into the new place. Jeremy came for a few weeks in an attempt to save our sham of a marriage. That didn’t last; he resented me, and I was indifferent. We were done going through the motions, and that means someone’s gotta go. Funny thing, I can’t really remember any of that. There are parts I just don’t remember. I think I suppressed a lot of that because I was the one administering the hurt. I knew it was the end when I no longer cared that he was actively dating.

He would stay out as usual, but one night he came in with a bouquet of grocery store flowers. I knew they weren’t for me because he never gave me flowers. He flipped the bedroom light on while I was asleep, shook my foot, and told me he just got back from his date while standing there holding the flowers the girl gave him. I think he thought that would make me jealous—it didn’t. I’ve never been built like that, and I’m still not. I actually was a little happy for him. He deserved a good woman who loved him. When he saw a slight smile on my face, he got mad. I wasn’t sure what he expected from me. I was never the type to go off or fight over a man. I told him I was happy he was dating and to turn off the light. I was growing tired of being pulled in every direction by men—all men. Sure, I was putty for the time being, but even I knew that would get old.

Sigh… Ahmad. The puller. We continued with our high school shenanigans all over the dealership. We would take vans and SUVs to secluded areas to make out. Once, the police came and asked what we were doing. It’s a good thing we were just sitting and talking. We didn’t cross the line of no return until Jeremy was all moved out. We went to lunch at a nice hotel, and wouldn’t you know it—he so happened to have a room for us. I had never been so nervous in my life. Even I knew that you could only kiss for so long, so this was the natural progression. Once sex enters the equation, it’s hard to see straight. I was definitely not thinking or seeing straight. I was putty in every sense of the word.

I started to descend from the cloud I resided on when I noticed that other women liked him too. Ahmad drove a loaded, newer-model Cadillac Escalade with rims. That car alone attracted women; it didn’t hurt that he was 6’3”, handsome, athletic, and very charismatic. When we would go places, there would be phone numbers under the windshield wipers and in the driver’s side window. That was the first time I ever felt a twinge of jealousy. One weekend, we all went to a club on the south side, and a girl having her birthday party wanted to take pictures with him. That infuriated me. I was being irrational—they were just pictures, and I knew he was the mayor. Everyone wanted to be near him. His presence was big.

I shrugged it off. None of that mattered. We were in the new part of secular dating—you know, rabbits. I was beginning to really catch feelings for him. It was the flowers, the steakhouse lunches, the deep conversations, his humor… it was all those things. The only thing I despised was that he was a Hebrew Israelite. We would get into heated debates about the Law of Moses, holidays, etc. Even after these heated debates, he would smile, pinch my cheek, and change the subject. That’s what I liked—nothing was really serious to him.

I remember one day he called my desk and told me to come to his office. I came. He looked somber—but not really. He then said my dad hung himself in my grandmother’s attic yesterday. I tried to console him. He said, “It’s OK… he always told me he would do it if he ever got back on drugs.” That was the only time I saw something other than a smile on his face. It was like he had the world by the strings and lived above human emotion. Most of the salespeople hated him because of this quality, but not me—I admired it.

One night, we went to have pizza at Home Run Inn on 31st. I put the menu down, looked up, and there stood Jeremy. My heart was beating out of my chest. I just knew this was a bad dream, but nope—it was happening. He said, “Oh, this must be your new boyfriend. I knew y’all was messing around.” Ahmad didn’t say anything at first because I really think he was trying to figure out who he was. I can still remember the hurt in Jeremy’s face. He just stood there staring at me. He looked at him briefly, then back at me, and said, “I hope he hurts you twice as much as you’ve hurt me.”

Then Ahmad stood up and said, “Man, you need to chill out. You are literally here with someone—go be with your girl.” He was. I didn’t realize that because I didn’t see where he came from. They were sitting two booths behind us—what were the chances?! He shook his head and walked away. As soon as he was seated, I grabbed my purse and walked out. Ahmad came behind me a few minutes later. He asked if I was all right and if I wanted to go somewhere else. He was unbothered, like what just happened was minor. I quietly said, “I’m not hungry anymore. I’m going home.” He walked me to my car, and I drove home in complete reflective silence.

After that encounter, I was starting to feel the ramifications of my selfishness. I felt horrible. Until then, I hadn’t considered how much this would affect Jeremy. After we were married, he was indifferent and never home. I just assumed this was better for the both of us. I wanted a do-over in life.

One day, I was sitting in my cubicle doing some paperwork when my phone rang from an outside line. I answered it, and a woman said, “Hello, is this Kim Blakes?”

I said, “This is she.”

She said, “Are you messing with Ahmad?”

Everything in me shook. What did she just say?! I said, “Who is this?”

She said, “I’m Ahmad’s wife.”

I felt like I was in a tunnel. It had NEVER occurred to me this man was married! He moved like a single man in every way. He didn’t wear a ring, and I had never seen or heard of her before.

I was out with him in public all the time, went to his mom’s house once, and went to his father’s funeral. For the first time in my life, I was speechless. She said, “I was going through his phone, and I saw your name a lot. I just want the truth.” Then I got mad, but not at her… at myself. I said, “Did you ask him?” She said, “Oh, he’s on the phone with us.” This was legit happening. I was the other woman, and I was getting the ol’ woman-to-woman call.

She then said, “I’m asking you as a woman to please leave my husband alone.” I sighed and said, “Why aren’t you having this conversation with him?” She said, “I did, and he said he will not leave you alone, so I’m asking you.” She then said, “Ahmad, tell her y’all are done.”

There was silence, a sigh, and then he said, “No.” I said, “This conversation is really between y’all. I have to go,” and I hung up. I sat and stared at the phone in disbelief.

I went to my lead and said I needed to go home—I was feeling sick. Even if she would’ve said no, I was leaving anyway. I was choking back tears as I stormed out. I got home and laid down. What has happened to me? I got saved a couple of years ago. I was married and doing okay. Then everything went to trash in my life AGAIN. I laid there and I cried—baby, I mean I CRIED. I got all the tears out before my daughter got home from school. It was like whatever trance I was in was starting to lift. I looked at my life, and I hated myself. I hated everything about me. I couldn’t believe I was this dumb. I knew I had to begin the process of purging him from my life.

An hour later, there was a banging at my front door. I looked out the peephole but didn’t see anything; there was a finger over it. I said, “Who is it?” Ahmad said, “Open the door.” I said, “No. Go to your wife.” He said, “Kim, open this door. I’m not leaving until you do.” So I did. I didn’t want my neighbors—or worse, my daughter—to see him at my door.

I unlocked the door but left it closed and went and flopped down on the couch. He came in, sat on the edge of my cocktail table in front of me, and said, “Kim, I didn’t know you didn’t know.” I looked at him like he was growing a second head. I said, “How in the world would I know? Nothing about you says marriage! The very fact that you’re sitting here proves my point!”

He said, “After our second child last year, my mom said I needed to marry her, so I did. We got together in college. She’s a nice girl, but not like you… she has no voice or presence, but she’s a good mother.” I frowned at that. That was worse. Why would you marry someone you didn’t really love?! Then I remembered—that’s what I had done.

So I said, “When did you get married?” He said, “About two months ago.”

You could’ve knocked me over with a feather. He and I had been hot and very heavy for almost a year. He legit went to city hall, got married on his day off, came back in, and continued horizontal wrestling with me. No honeymoon, no reception, no nothing… they just did it, and life went on.

I said, “Are you going to stay married?” He looked at me and said, “Yes.”

I said, “Well, why are you here? What do you want?” He said, “Nothing, just to apologize. I didn’t wanna get married, ever… I knew it would mess up my life. Know that I love you no matter what you decide.”

I said, “We’ve got stuff going on, but none of it is love.” I then said, “Does your wife know you’re here?” He said, “She should.”