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“Sure, go ahead.” Jason was rolling up the sleeves of his white Bali shirt, getting ready to bust some suds. Once the kids were out of earshot, I got back to the matter at hand.
“Look, Jason, I really don’t need this shit from you tonight. I’ve had a very long day. You keep making it sound like I’m never at home, and that’s simply not true.” He stood there rolling his eyes, his hands on his hips, and that pissed me off even more. “Hell, if you had it your way, I would never leave the fucking house. You want me in the kitchen, barefoot, and pregnant huh?”
“See, now you’re getting ridiculous.” He cut the faucet off and started walking away, mumbling something under his breath, and I followed him into his drawing room. “I never implied anything like that, Zoe, and you know it!”
He went over to the compact stereo system on one of the built-in shelves and turned on a Nancy Crawford CD. He always listens to smooth music when he creates his masterpieces, designing some of the most beautiful and breathtaking buildings one could imagine. “You’re crucifying me for expecting a phone call. A simple phone call letting me know what’s up. If I did that same shit, you’d never let me hear the end of it!”
Jason was right, and I was ashamed. Once again, I was using my own feelings of guilt about my “ alternative” lifestyle as a basis for arguing with him. Before I started cheating on him, we never fought but the little spats were becoming more frequent. The infidelity had to end. A lesser man would have left me, betrayed me, abused me. Thank goodness Jason’s love for me overshadowed his frustration.
He sat down at his drafting table and began scribbling, breaking the lead tip out of a pencil by pressing down on it too hard in his anger. I walked up behind him and started massaging his shoulders. I could feel the tension in them, and it made me even more ashamed, knowing I was the cause of it all. “I’m sorry, baby! You’re absolutely right. I should’ve called. It was totally irresponsible and inconsiderate of me not to do so.”
He didn’t say a word, just grabbed another pencil and started drawing again. I slowly moved my hands from his shoulders down to his chest and caressed his nipples through his shirt. He grabbed my left hand in his and kissed it. “It’s okay, Zoe. I just hate it when we fight.”
“I know, Boo. So do I.”
Jason twirled the base of his elevated drawing chair around so he was facing me and looked into my eyes. “All I ever wanted to do is make you happy.”
“And you do! You make me very happy.” I pressed my palms against his cheeks and gave him a long, wet kiss. “I love you, and this is forever.”
“Always has been! Always will be!” We smiled at each other, and then he started kissing me on my neck while I looked up through one of the skylights at the stars.
There was a long, uncomfortable pause. I was trying to decide whether or not I should even mention Marcella. I decided to hint around and see if the shit hit the fan.
“I met this cool doctor today. A sistah.” I pushed back a little from him so I could survey his expression. I didn’t see a damn thing except the so-what look. “Her name’s Marcella Spencer.”
Jason picked up another pencil and started fiddling with one of his blueprints. “That’s nice, honey.”
I walked over to the stereo and flipped through the CD rack, searching for nothing in particular but seeing if he had bought anything new.
“What kind of doctor is she?” Jason quizzed. “Maybe I can send her some business.”
“Umm, actually she’s a psychiatrist.” I waited for the other shoe to drop.
“Psychiatrist?” Jason acted like I said she was a hooker or something. Like the word was a four-letter one instead of a twelve-letter one. “Where in the world did you meet a psychiatrist?”
“Through a mutual friend.” That was only a halfway lie—I did hear about her through the lady at the beauty salon. “She’s very nice and down-to-earth.” Jason chuckled like I had said something funny. “Why are you laughing?”
“No reason. It just amazes me that people like that can even make an honest living,” he stated emphatically, shaking his head.
“People like who?”
“Psychiatrists. Shrinks. Head doctors,” he said with an edge of sarcasm. “I mean, really, Zoe. What kind of person pays someone to listen to their silly-ass problems?”
I was offended but not about to confront him by admitting I was paying, and willing to pay out the ass if I had to if it would help. “Lots of people need therapy for different things, Jason. I can’t believe you’re being so closed-minded.”
“Well, thank goodness neither one of us is cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs,” he chuckled, laughing at his own half-ass joke. “I would send her some clients if she was an internist or cardiologist or pediatrician or something normal, but a psychiatrist? No freakin’ way! All my friends are sane. Stressed-out, maybe, but definitely sane.”
I hunched my shoulders and paced to the window, debating whether to run out of the room before I started crying in despair. How was I ever going to tell him I was seeing a psychiatrist?
“Guess what, baby? I have some great news of my own!”
I took a deep, restorative breath and turned to face him. “What’s that, Boo?” I asked, forcing a smile.
He got up, walked over to me and put his arms around my waist. “I got a huge contract today. The city wants me to design the new civic center.”
“Really?” I was stunned. I knew my baby was the bomb-diggity all along, but he was really hitting the big time lately, having just completed the new YMCA. “That’s great, baby!”
We shared a long, passionate kiss. I could feel my panties getting wet. Any show of affection from Jason always turned me on. “I have a great idea.”
