Page 90 of Intentional Foul
Pops
You are a man. Take care of your wife, and I got your mom.
I inhaled the air and released a hard exhale at his words. He was right; Jhae was my wife and my priority. I didn’t want to hurt mom, but my heart wanted who it wanted.
“The old rich people are here,” I told Marquise, and we dapped hands as a temporary truce. Later, we would have it out about us touching each other’s phones. I migrated up the stairs and tapped on the door to the studio.
“Jhae, unlock the door. If we do this one time and get it over with, the panic attacks will stop,” I said, low enough for her to hear but silence greeted me.
“If you want this marriage, you will come out of the studio,” I spoke into the door.
Within seconds, the door unlocked and opened to my wife. I went in for a kiss, but she rejected me, turning her head away. Stepping inside the studio, I caused her to step backward. I hovered over her, cupping her chin for her to acknowledge me with eye contact.
“We need to be on the same page, Jhae. I’m not doing this to hurt you. I’m tired of the panic attacks and you avoiding Mom. We can’t get to the healing if we don’t rip off the Band-Aid,” I said.
“Okay,” she said through gritted teeth.
Jhae wrapped her hands around me and buried her chin in my chest. I knew this was hurting her but we couldn’t continue to live in seclusion and fear.
“I’m supposed to be the wise one. I’m the oldest,” she said.
“Therapy,” I responded, and we both laughed.
A tap came at the door. “The old people are making demands,” Marquise said.
I held Jhae’s hand with the ring on her finger. She sighed and followed behind as I led the way. Migrating down the hallway, I tightened my grip on Jhae as she tried to yank her hand away. Turning the corner, we stepped into the living room to my mom and pops.
“Malcolm, what is the occasion?” Mom asked before her eyes traveled to our tangled hands.
Mom smirked before shaking her head. “Ready to come clean?” she asked.
The room fell silent as I focused on my mother. Pops turned to face mom with a wrinkled nose and tight jawline. Jhae, nails piercing my skin, pulled at my attention. She was in the midst of a full panic attack as her chest panted. The width of her eyes had expanded.
“Calm down, I’m here,” I repeated as I gave her space and security.
From the wild look in her eyes, I could tell the room was spinning. I wanted to hold her but crowding her space made things worse.
“Is she having a panic attack?” Mom asked, but I ignored her.
“Breathe it out,” I coached as our eyes latched on to each other.
“Jhae!” Mom called, making the matters worse. She gasped harder for air as I tried to comfort her.
The sound of her protest suggested Pops stopped her from approaching us. I couldn’t look away from Jhae to confirm. Dr. June’s words about protecting my family unit rang loud in my head.
“Mom, you trigger her panic attacks,” Marquise announced.
The more I studied my wife’s face, guilt settled over me. I miscalculated this entire scene and mom’s reaction.
“Niecy, have a seat. We need to give Jhae room,” Pops voiced.
It took Jhae nearly ten minutes to get back in control over her breathing. I peered over to find Mom’s head in her hands. She sat next to Pops while he ran his hands up and down her back.
“Let’s get this over with. I’m tired of this,” Jhae murmured.
I kissed her temple and tangled our hands as we moved toward the loveseat. Jhae and I sat beside each other. Mom scoffed.
“Mom, Jhae and I. . .”
