Page 17 of Taming a Menace
There was a time when I thought that if I had a man who would pay for everything I would shut up and let him cheat in peace. The reality of his betrayal and deception made me eat those words. I couldn’t live in peace with a man I couldn’t trust. There was no telling what other skeletons were waiting to fall out of his closet. After emptying my drawers into my designer suitcases, I grabbed my jewelry box and headed for the door.
“That’s it?” my sister asked as she and her husband met me at the top of the stairs.
“That’s all I want for now. Anything else I’ll get later. I don’t want to see him tonight,” I confessed.
I didn’t need or want him trying to explain something that he should have brought up over a year ago. I didn’t want to talk to him at all.
“I get it.” She nodded in agreement.
“Let me get that, sis,” her husband Ervin said, reaching out and taking the handle of the bigger suitcase.
“Thanks.”
“This is nice, girl. Where did you get it?” my sister asked, referring to the suitcase.
“The set was a gift from Wyatt,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“At least you were making his cheating ass cash out.” She shrugged as she turned for the door.
That’s all I could say of our union. For three years, I dedicated my time and energy to being the perfect girlfriend. I did any and everything I could to make Wyatt happy. I genuinely thought he was. I thought we were. To find out that it was all a lie crushed me.
I wanted to put my hands on him, but I couldn’t for the life of me answer the fucking phone. He didn’t deserve to see me break. He didn’t deserve to see me cry. He didn’t deserve me.
“You guys go ahead. I’ll meet you at the house,” I said, stopping at the door.
“OK, call me if I need to come back and help you drag his ass,” my sister offered.
“I will,” I said, cracking a smile for the first time.
I turned to walk deeper into the house. My phone buzzed against my thigh yet again, and I pulled it out knowing that Wyatt was calling back.
“Where are you?” he asked before I had the chance to speak.
“Something came up,” I revealed.
“Something like what? Is everything OK?” he asked.
I scoffed. “It will be.”
“Are you on the way?”
“No, I’m not coming.”
“What’s going on, Iyla? Do you need me to come home?”
“Wyatt, I’m leaving.”
“So you’re on the way?” he asked.
“No, I’m leaving you.”
“What the fuck do you mean you’re leaving me?”
“Goodbye, Wyatt.”
“Iyla, we can talk about this. Tell me what’s going on,” he demanded.
I ended the call. I wasn’t in the mood to talk. Talking would lead to me doing something crazy. I was in the mood to do something crazy. There was a version of me that would have set his house on fire and prayed that he didn’t make it home before it burned to the ground.
