“Yeah. I’m good.” I flash a smile, hoping it’ll help make my lie believable.
She says, “Well, I’ll see you on the inside when we have topretendagain.”
“Yeah, and Cyn.”
“Yes?”
“Please know that I do care about your welfare, your job, and everything that’s going on with you. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise.”
“It’s all good.”
“No, it’s not. I’m being real with you, Cyn. Can’t we be real with each other for a minute?”
Her eyes narrow.
“And for the record,” I continue, “I think you’d do very well in a managerial position. You have the discipline for it.”
“Thanks for saying that.” She smiles sadly and walks away, her shapely hips swaying effortlessly in that body-contouring dress.
chapter nine.
cyn
Brix was right. His parents went into that guest bedroom, and I ain’t seen them since. They were exhausted due to their travels, and those sandwiches put them right on to sleep. I’m glad, too. It means I get a break from playingwife. Pretending is hard work, especially while trying to convince my husband that I don’t love him anymore.
Of course it’s a lie. I’ll never not love Brix. Can’t no man now or ever compare to him. That’s why I haven’t even considered moving on after him. For one, we’re still married, and – separated or not – I don’t play with unions ordained by God. I wouldn’t dare entertain the thought of being with another man while I’m still married. Two, I’m just not that kind of person, period. Loyalty runs deep in everything I do. I’m even loyal to this little pretend scheme he cooked up, and though it’s extremely exhausting, I’m playing my part.
It's close tomidnight. I’m still up because lying in this bed brings back so many memories that have filled my mind and heart with desires. With longing. Brix knew how to satisfy all of that. Then I remember how I used to sleep with his pillow in my arms in lieu of him, as if having my arms around a mound of cotton could ever replace his body. I ached for him, but he wasn’t there. When I needed to feel his tongue in my mouth, I had tobe content with my own. When I needed to feel full with him embedded deep inside of me, I was left hollow and empty. When I needed our hearts to be on the same page, we were in different books.
Those are the things I don’t miss – things that, to this day, still hurt me. I’m on the verge of tears when I hear him come inside the room. He releasesa hearty exhale before he whispers, “Cyn, are you sleeping?”
I consider just pretending, but I’ve done enough of that for one day. I say, “No, I’m awake,” carefully making sure I hid any hint of sadness in my voice.
He clicks on his bedside lamp and says, “Okay. I wasn’t going to turn on the light and disturb you if you were sleeping already.”
“It’s all good. This isyourhouse after all. You can do whatever you want.”
He takes a pillow off the bed and carries it over to the sofa.
I sit up and say, “Brix, don’t sleep over there.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not fine. Just sleep in the bed. It’s not like we’ve never slept together.”
Ignoring me, he walks over to the closet, gets a blanket, and tosses it on the sofa. Then he comes close to the bed, clicks off his lamp, and says, “Goodnight, Cyn.”
He walks back over to the sofa.
“Boy…”
I push the covers off of me, stumble to the other side of the room, and straddle him. “Get up.”
“Ay, girl. Watch your knees.”
“This is ridiculous. You’re all balled up on the sofa. It doesn’t even look comfortable. You can’t even stretch out your long legs.”
“I could if you would get off of me.”
