Page 17 of Mahogany 1

“Hey daddy,” Aubry said, from the island buttering garlic bread.

“Hey dad!” said Honesty, approaching from the refrigerator.

“Hey hey,” I spoke back, greeting the three of them with kisses after planting one on top of Mahogany’s head.

“Right on time,” I said to Mahogany. “I’m hungry as hell.” I looked around the kitchen. “Where that boy at? His lil ass need to be in here too.”

Gabe helped every now and then too. But because he was a boy, Mahogany usually gave him a break and let him play hisgame while they cooked. Weren’t any gender roles around here. Not when it came to cooking it wasn’t at least. I didn’t do nearly as much as I should’ve but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t if I had to.

“He just took the trash out,” Mahogany said, giving me a quick kiss on the lips.

Smiling, I leaned against the counter, watching as she cooked, with love in my eyes and fear embedded in my heart. Bro… if I lost my wife, I would lose this life, and I couldn’t have that.

A couple of seconds later, Gabe walked in.

“Wassup dad?” He spoke. “You saw how Curry did them boys dirty last night?”

“Hell yeah. Watched the clip on my break earlier,” Making a face I said, “Did them boys nasty.”

Gabe washed his hands, and we talked about basketball. I decided to wait to hit Mahogany with the shit my ma said. Today was too much of a good day to ruin it with Adena talk. For the first time in a very long time, my wife felt like my wife, and family felt like family. I was going to savor the moment because there was no telling when I’d get another one like it.

5

MAHOGANY

“Hi.I have an appointment with Nicole Mitchell for six,” I greeted the receptionist with a light smile, before flicking my wrist to check the time on my watch. 5:45PM.

“Hello. Okay, one sec,” she paused, typing away at her keyboard before looking up at me. “For Mahogany Mills-Morris and Ducati Morris?” Briefly, she scanned the room for him.

Today was therapy day one. Our fifth day one, with our fifth therapist to be exact. We ran through therapists like socks. There was always something wrong with them. I prayed like hell that Nicole ended up being the fix we needed because at this rate, we were running out of black therapists in Michigan.

“Yes,” I said with my eyes locked on hers. “My husband’s running a little late.”

“Ah, he’s okay. You’re a little early,” she cheerfully dismissed before going back to her screen. “But Mrs. Mitchell has a fifteen-minute grace period; in case anything comes up.”

I was well aware of the fifteen-minute grace period. Didn’t give a damn about it though. Being on time today was very important to me. I’d stressed to him how important it was for usto be. We already looked bad enough. I wanted to at least come off as reliable, like we had our shit together a little bit.

“Help yourself to the refreshment room while you wait. There’s donuts, coffee, and tea,” she continued before giving me that tightlipped smile I hated.

I gave it right back to her before pivoting on my heels to do what I did best when I was stressed—pace. As I walked back and forth, I pretended to admire the paintings on the wall. Meanwhile, my anxiety was through the roof. It wasn’t just him being late that bothered me, it was therapy period.

I was on edge, because we were finally at a therapy session and it could very well be our first and last. That had kept me in a vicious cycle of anxiety all week. Because, well… I made a promise to myself.Anotherpromise. And this one, I said I wouldn’t break. Said that if it did not work this time, I’d leave. I’d file for divorce. But… I was afraid. Scared of again, letting myself down. And… like always… afraid of losing him. Sick right? As exhausted as I was, the fear of losing us petrified me beyond belief. So much that, that fear of breaking another promise to myself tripled because I knew… deep, deep, deep down that if it didn’t work… if Nicole couldn’t fix us… I’d stay. And well… I was afraid of doing that. Just as afraid of that as I was of losing him.

Confusing, right? I know. I was confusing. Our love, confusing too.

Tilting my head back with a sigh, I put my eyes on the ceiling.Wow. Art. I stopped pacing and stood there, with my arms wrapped around my body, head back admiring the hues of dusty blue, green, and ivory. I could almostfeelhow each stroke of the painters’ brush had been intentional, the colors meshed so well together. The mural was absolutely breathtaking.

“Ah, right on time,” The receptionist said with a smile pulling my attention away from the ceiling. Looking over at the entrance doors, I was relieved to see Duke walking in.

His ass wasn’t right on time. To me, on time meant late. However, I did appreciate the fact that he wasn’tactuallylate. That meant a little something. I was just bitchier than usual because although I talked shit to him about it, I didn’t want to be in therapy neither. I just wanted us to work. But to get there, we had piles and piles of shit to shovel through that we couldn’t shovel through on our own.

He looked stressed. Eyebrows furrowed, face slightly frowned up, stressed. I knew why. His ass didn’t want to disappoint me. He walked on eggshells daily, but I couldn’t be upset with him about this, I was just very on edge. I could cut him some slack, considering I knew why he was late anyway. Still didn’t cancel out the fact that he should’ve left work earlier to beat construction traffic he knew about since he worked on them. That was neither here nor there though. Seeing him did give me a sense of peace, calming my anxiety a bit.

“My bad,” he whispered into my ear, embracing me. “I know you wanted me here earlier.”

I smiled a little as he dropped a kiss on the side of my head. “It’s okay.”

Before we could walk off, he grabbed my hand. “We got this.”

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