Page 30 of Mahogany 1

Since therapy though, I’d looked at time from a different standpoint. Not as it was ticking down, but as it was speeding up and I was wasting more and more of it on a marriage that was clearly over. He wasn’t what I wanted. Not if he was cheating again. And that, for me, was a hard pill to swallow at thirty-four. I didn’t want to uproot my entire life. Didn’t want to break my kids’ hearts. Didn’t want to do anything but make this marriage work. Didn’t want everyone to know the truth. To learn the truth rather. That we weren’t goals. I wasn’t happy. I was miserable. He was miserable. We were miserable. Miserable and trying damn hard not to be.

I drank what was left in my glass and circled my finger around the gold rim, as I stared at the fireplace, into the fiery abyss. It was close to midnight. I should have been in bed, but instead I stayed awake because midnight was for me. Plus, I couldn’t sleep. My mind was flooded with what ifs. I tossed and turned, having mental arguments with myself, trying to convince myself to do like Chanté suggested and find a divorce attorney. You’d think, after all of the shit I talked, after all of the promises I made to myself… that leaving would be a piece of cake. I said if he cheated again, I’d leave, right? Why was I sitting on the couch, crying, nursing a glass of wine, then?

I did that often.

Sold myself dreams.

Lied so good I actually believed it. I was Mahogany, the proud business owner, boss ass bad bitch who drank one-hundred-dollar bottles of wine. I was confident, sultry, sexy, and seductive. Walked with my head high, shoulders back, exuding grace and fire with every step I took. But I wasn’t her. She was a mask too. I was… I didn’t know who I was. What I did know was that I was tired. Tired but not enough to quit. I couldn’t leave yet. I wasn’t trying for Duke; I was trying for me. I—I couldn’t see past us. Couldn’t plan for it. Couldn’t wrap my mind aroundwhat was happening. I was—I’d rather—it was easier for me to stay. Easier for me to just be. To exist with him because without him, who was I really?

The stairs creaking pulled me out of my thoughts. Quickly, I swiped tears away from my face and sat the glass down. A couple of seconds later, Duke turned the corner into the living room. I hated him. Granny said what granny said, but fuck what granny said. I hated him. He saw me breaking… saw me trying… and just… spat on me. Didn’t give a fuck about how much of an effort I made when I shouldn’t have made an effort at all.

“You still up?” Duke asked.

“What it look like?” I snapped.

The kids were asleep, and I was good and drunk. Later was that soft, subtle shit. Fuck him. I wanted him to feel the hate I had oozing from my pores. Wanted the room to be filled with it. Suffocatingly. I wanted him to choke and die from it. But it was okay. He wouldn’t be dead for long. I’d bring him back. Because, hello… apparently, I couldn’t live without him.

He nervously ran his hand down the back of his neck with a deep breath. “You good?”

“Please don’t,” I laughed. “Do not come in here acting like you not… Duke, get the fuck out of my face.”

“Mahogany—”

“Still!” I yelled, mushing my finger into his forehead. “After all of this time… I can’t believe you still?—”

“I still what?” He interrupted, with a deep frown, knocking my hand away from his face. “Still what, Mahogany? Because I’m not?—”

I pushed up from the couch, grabbed the bottle and my wine glass, and marched towards the kitchen, uninterested in hearing another lie. He was on my heels. Always on my muthafucking heels when I was pissed. As if I wouldn’t turn around and bash him in the face with the bottle. I was a different bitch these days.Had hung up my crazy cape and traded it in for one doused in poise and quiet get back. But I—I wanted to kill him. Wanted to make him feel a fraction of what I felt. I had half a mind to confess. To tell him about all of the dick I sucked before coming home to kiss him real good. I was tempted to tell him about the threesome I had. Wanted to confess just to hurt him. But Duke—he couldn’t handle that. He’d probably try to kill my ass. Pussy ass bitch.

“You think I’m—man come on!” He yelled. “Why would I? NeNe, I’m not?—

I jumped in his face. Leaped, really. I was so close to him that if I was taller, our noses would‘ve touched. “Lie, bitch ass nigga! Lie!”

He drew back. “Yo. I’m telling you right now if you?—”

“If I what? Duke, you ain’t gon do shit. Fuck you. Lying ass piece of shit. Cancel that party too because bitch! I’m tired!” I said through gritted teeth before mushing him in the face again.

He reached out and touched me on the shoulder. I jerked away and spun around again. “I swear to God on my babies, your life, my life, and everybody else’s… if you touch me again, I’m going to hit you in the face with this bottle. Try me if you want to—you know muthafucking well I don’t play about my babies. Bitch, I’ll do time behind this shit. On my soul.”

I was hot. Hadn’t spoken to him like that in years. But I meant every word. He believed me. I didn’t know if it was because I’d put it on my kids, or if it was because I didn’t yell. I cared about my babies. Loved them with every part of me. And I would never, in a million years, do drama in front of them. I didn’t want to wake them. Didn’t want them to see me handling their father like that. Didn’t want them to see him as the monster I saw him as. Even in my darkest hour, I cared about what they thought about him. About us. Because I knew, despite how upsetI was with him, I wasn’t leaving. Not yet. I—I just… I needed a minute.

“Alright, Ne,” He protested with his hands up. “I told you I wouldn’t cheat on you again. I put that?—”

“Duke, just… shut the fuck up and get away from me. Like I said, cancel that party because I won’t be there.”

I walked away and as usual, he followed. I was in shambles. Breaking with every step I took towards the kitchen. My stride was shaky. Hands too, as I gripped the glass harder. Close to shattering it.I was tired. Had never been so tired of a situation in my life. I gave Duke everything. Loved him from a place of devotion and he did this to me again. So, fucking what I cheated. Regardless of what I did, I still loved Duke from a place of devotion.

“Ne,” He called out. “Please… Just… Just look. Listen to me.”

I turned around expecting to yell in his face, except he was kneeling in front of me, with prayer hands. “I—I swear to God I’m… baby, I’m not on no dumb shit. I—Mahogany, I put that on my soul.”

I just stared at him, with a trembling bottom lip. Was I supposed to believe him because he was on his knees? Was I supposed to care about the tears in his eyes? He was convincing. Duke’s always been convincing. Every time he cheated, it was the same shit. Waterworks and I love you’s. He swore to God he wouldn’t cheat on me again three women ago. And look at me now, on bitch number six. I—I couldn’t believe him. Couldn’t fall for it. I—I felt it in my bones. The cheating. The lying. And I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Was I to take his hand and wait for proof? Did I supposed to follow my gut and just… try to leave? Try to take that step? I didn’t know what to do. Couldn’t move. Stood there paralyzed by both fear and heart break.

I tried my damnedest to keep my tears at bay, but without warning, they came rushing through my tear ducts. I blamed the Caymus for my behavior. I was better than this. These days, I was… I was whole. I was stronger. Could handle more. I did a damn good job keeping my emotions intact. The only time I really cried about us, openly, in front of someone else, was when I was at therapy. My own, private sessions. And even then, I contained them. Didn’t let the levy break. Held back. Didn’t want to do too much. I was afraid that if I did cry, I mean really cry, I’d break for real. I’d lose my mind. So, I kept it all inside. Let it out little by little. However, tonight, I couldn’t stop them. The tears. They fell like a waterfall. The levycracked. A lot. And I just… I cried. For real this time.

Duke pivoted a little on his knees and slowly raised his hands to grab me by the waist. I let him. Couldn’t move, remember? Let him touch me. I didn’t know how to proceed. It was like déjà vu. We’d stood in this very spot, with him doing the same shit. Two years ago, he got on his knees and apologized. Told me he wouldn’t do it again. Told me he would spend every day of his life making things right between us. Said when it came to women, I was at the top. I was the only thing that mattered to him. Me, and saving the family. So why was he ripping us a part again?

“Mah—”

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