Dear Diary, page 16
I nodded. “Good thing I’m a loner. Besides, all I need is you.” I wiggled my breasts to seduce him, but he kept talking about work.
“Yeah, but I have seen them and how overbearing they can be. Most of them are stay-at-home moms who frequently volunteer at their kids’ schools, carpool, and sponsor fundraisers. Well, except Joan, the meanest one, the pack leader. She does something in the medical field at a hospital or something.” He shrugged. “I just don’t want you to feel pressured by them.”
“No worries. Those are things I’d never see myself doing. And we already agreed that we wouldn’t have any children, so that eliminates me from their clique.”
The topic of children had come up, but because mental illness can be hereditary, we decided against it. If we changed our minds, adoption was an option.
“They are going to try to get under your skin, especially Joan. She’s still upset that I beat out her husband as lead agent. She made some comments saying they only hired me to have a black person in a management position.”
“I can handle it. I can handle the party. I can handle the crowd. And I can handle those wives.”
Entry 27
Dear Diary:
I learned a little something from my engagement party—dress to impress. And since I would be among snobbish, judgmental women who were fascinated with labels and statuses, I made sure to look my best. I would have asked Zena to make me a one-of-a-kind piece, but there wasn’t enough time with the party being three days away. So I got some ideas from binge-watching the reality shows that I’d become addicted to. This time I studied each lady’s style and technique.
Since I was in Georgia, I wanted to emulate the ladies of Georgia. With my computer on my lap, a notebook, pen, and remote in hand, I scrolled through the DVR before deciding on The Real Housewives of Atlanta. I paid close attention to their outfits, the way they spoke, and even down to the way they held their peach during their opening introductions.
My notebook was full of ideas. But to be safe, I needed more. I then flipped over to Married to Medicine and took more notes. By the time I finished, my black-and-white composition notebook had only a few empty pages left.
After studying my notes and surfing the web, I found what I needed. Neiman Marcus had the perfect asymmetrical Versace dress that retailed for $2,495. Before I bought it, I did the right thing. I got naked and approached my husband. I wasn’t much of a dancer, but he found me twerking when he looked up from his computer.
Although he was working, he set his computer to the side to take in the performance. “Damn, babe. Wait, let me get my wallet.” When Myles returned, he said, “Okay, resume.”
I assumed he liked the show. He smacked my jiggling cakes, reached in his wallet, and made it rain. I appreciated it, but I needed a lot more money than that. I was out of breath and sweaty when I plopped on his lap.
“Encore,” Myles said.
I was tired. I had instant admiration for strippers. Dancing seductively required skill and stamina. I had neither, but at least it was enough to make my husband’s mini me excited.
I pinched my fingers together. “I need a tiny favor.”
Myles shook his head. “I should’ve known all this was for a reason. What’s up, Parkay?”
Confusion mixed with sweat and ran down my face.
Myles snickered and then burst into an uncontrollable laugh.
I went to walk away, but he pulled me back into his lap and started tickling me. “I’m teasing, baby. What’s up?”
“Who is Parkay?”
“It’s margarine, baby. It was a joke.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I see,” Myles said before laughing again. “Parkay is margarine. Like butter. You danced to butter me up because you want something. So that’s why I called you Parkay.”
It took a second before the elevator reached the top floor with the ding and all. I let out a long, exaggerated, “Ohhhhhh.”
We started wrestling when I pinched him over that dad joke. I loved fun moments like this because even I knew how uptight and serious I could be.
Once playtime settled down, I jumped right into the request. “There’s a dress I’d like to buy for the party. It’s expensive, so I wanted to make sure it was okay with you first.”
“Can I at least see it first? I’ve seen the dresses you pick.”
That statement sent us both into a fit of laughter. That, too, felt good. Just as it had since we’d married. Something about us becoming one caused me to look at him differently. At times I struggled, but the scale tipped more toward me wanting to make things work with him.
“Impressive. I like that, babe. Go ahead and get it.”
“Do you want to know how much it is first?”
He shook his head. “Not really. Get what you like.”
A part of me wanted to leave it there, but he needed to know. “It’s twenty-four hundred dollars,” I said and pursed my lips.
“Okay,” Myles said without wincing. “Put it on your credit card.”
“Are you sure it’s not too much?”
“It might be, but since you got me all riled up and are naked, sit on it, and I’ll overlook the price.”
“Myles Sanders, you are trying to turn your wife into a prostitute.”
He shrugged. “I don’t see anything wrong with it. I like ’em nasty.” He licked his juicy lips.
“And crazy, according to you.”
“Hey. At least I’m honest.” Myles’s eyes filled with even more lust, making me become his prostitute.
I became his nasty girl again before the party. The dress fit my body like a glove. I got all dolled up, and thanks to the mobile makeup artist, the only thing on me that was black was my light eyeliner. I walked with my head up, proud to be Eva Ann Moss-Sanders.
Myles was all over me. I had never turned him down when he wanted sex, but I pushed him back. “I don’t feel good.”
That didn’t stop him. He was back on me. “I can make you feel better in two minutes if you let me.”
I loved his sexual innuendos. I turned around and lifted my dress.
“This dress looks way better on you than it did on the model,” he said to me and inserted himself. He didn’t lie. He had me feeling better within two minutes. That was just the first round. The second and third rounds were much longer and more satisfying.
Needless to say, we were late for the party. I was surprised we made it at all. He gave me three good rounds, and I gave him round four in the car.
Inside the venue, I immediately spotted the clique. They all stood together, stiff and plastic looking. Must have been their Botox injections in preparation for tonight. I couldn’t wait to meet them. I leaned over to Myles. “Are any of those human mannequins standing by the staircase Joan?”
Myles glanced in their direction. “Yes, that’s her in the white dress.”
Joan was basic. Especially the dress she had on. I’d done my fair share of bargain shopping, and that was a bargain.
Myles and I stood in the same spot for nearly an hour, and none of the plastic ladies bothered to introduce themselves or congratulate us on our wedding. Each time I looked in their direction, they tooted their noses up. I, in turn, rolled my eyes.
Silverware hitting against a glass silenced everyone, and then came a long toast. I pretended to pay attention, but my focus was still on Joan. The arrows pointing to the corner behind the staircase served as my exit.
My patience had weakened. “I’m going to the ladies’ room,” I told Myles.
“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked.
Laughing, I said, “I can go by myself. Ain’t no telling what you’ll try to do to me if you get me alone again.” Really, I wanted to get near Joan to teach her a thing or two about messing with my man. If anyone was going to be mean to him, it was me and only me.
Myles grinned and held up his glass of water in agreement. “Facts.”
I made heavy eye contact as I strutted past the ladies. One blew a kiss at me, one frowned, and everyone else smirked.
As I adjusted my dress and hair in the mirror, one of the cliquey ladies entered the bathroom, looking even more basic. She stood in the mirror, pretending to powder her nose, but I could tell she was there to spy on me. No words were exchanged, just glares.
I made eye contact again as I returned to Myles’s side. He was surrounded by Joan’s husband, Roger, and some other men. When Roger kissed the back of my hand, Joan hurried over. Judging by how fast she got there, I swear she could have won a gold medal in the Olympics.
“Honey, this is an amazing party,” she said, ignoring Myles and me.
“Joan, meet Eva,” Roger said. “And you know Myles.”
“Myles.” She nodded and then turned her attention to me. “You look so familiar. Have we met before?”
“I don’t believe so,” I said. I extended my left hand with a flick so she’d notice the massive wedding ring that I wore compared to her simple gold band. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Joan.”
“I didn’t know Myles was in a serious relationship,” she said as she admired my ring. “Anytime I am around the office, he’s never mentioned you.” The phony smile she gave caused her eyes to squint.
“Well, now you know. And although I’m sure you will, please share the good news with everyone else who may not know of me.” I followed up with a phony smile of my own.
She calmed down for a moment, leading me to believe the battle was over. As soon as the tension within me eased, she spewed more venom.
“Myles, I thought you and Maria were still fooling around.”
It all happened so fast. Roger said something inaudible to Joan. My head swung over to Myles, and I noticed several wrinkles in his forehead. The noise level in our huddle turned down several notches.
“Maria?” I repeated. Myles had warned me of how vicious and territorial Joan was, but he failed to inform me of Maria.
The look on Joan’s face said that she was about to finish me off. And she did. “You’ve never met Maria when you’ve come to the office?” Joan smirked and sipped from her wineglass.
The wrinkles in Myles’s forehead deepened. “Roger, man, get your wife under control. What the hell is she talking about?”
“Joan, that’s enough,” Roger interjected. “Myles and Eva, please accept my sincerest apologies. I think maybe my wife has had way too much to drink.” He yanked Joan’s wrist and led her away.
And just like that, Joan managed to diminish every ounce of self-confidence that I had. She got the best of me. My issue was no longer with her. Myles tried to make her out to be a witch to cover up his bad behavior.
“Who is Maria?” I demanded to know.
I knew it would be a lousy night for Myles because the minute he touched my shoulder, I jerked away. “Joan is drunk. Don’t pay her any attention. I told you, she’s an evil, bitter woman.”
“Is she? Or do you feel that way because she calls you out on your women?” I barked. “Don’t deny it, Myles. Why would she just make up something so random?”
“Baby, I promise you there is no Maria.”
I pointed around the room. “Which one is she? Just tell me.”
“Let’s not do this here, please.”
“Why not? Is this where you do Maria?”
“Do not make a scene. We can talk in private. Now let’s go.”
“I’m not leaving until I find Maria.”
“Eva, there is no Maria.”
“Oh, so you’re gonna try to make it like I’m imagining this too?” I shook my head, then yelled, “Who is Maria? Maria, show yourself.”
“Eva, stop it.” Myles pulled me over to Roger, who stood near the bar looking nervous while guzzling down drinks. Joan was right by his side.
“As a man, it would be disrespectful of me to address your wife, so I’m going to say this to you. What the hell is wrong with her? And what the hell is wrong with you? You stand by and watch her treat people like this all the time. Where are your balls, man? Or does your wife own them?”
Roger stumbled over his words. “I . . . I . . . I can fix this.”
Myles stepped in his face. “It needs to be fixed now.”
Roger nodded and turned to Joan, motioning for her to say something. She was hesitant to speak, so he yelled at her. She then said the most disgusting thing. “Don’t take it out on me because your wife is bat-shit crazy.”
The party turned into pure chaos. It took a swarm of people to hold Myles back.
I was humiliated. How would Joan know that, unless . . . “You told them about me, Myles? How would she know that?”
“I didn’t tell them shit.” Something clicked in Myles’s brain. “What hospital does Joan work at?” Myles asked one of the guys trying to calm him down.
“I’m not sure,” the guy answered.
“That information is very important. I have one grand in my pocket for you if you can find out.”
“On it. I can ask my girl. She hung out with them awhile before she declared them mean girls.”
“Thank you,” Myles said. He reached in his wallet and pulled out a wad of cash that he didn’t bother to count. “Down payment. Eva, let’s go.”
I didn’t want to go with Myles, nor did I want to stay at this party. I picked what I thought was the lesser of two evils and followed Myles out the door.
Roger ran alongside us, apologizing and promising to get his wife under control.
I had never seen Myles so angry. He became even more upset when his phone rang. It was the man he paid.
“I appreciate you. I owe you.” Myles fumed and mumbled threats.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“Why do you care? It’s not like you’ll believe me anyway,” he snapped at me.
“You can’t get mad at me because you got caught cheating.”
“Fuck!” Myles yelled and punched the steering wheel.
That was one of my moves. He seriously needed to get checked out. As a matter of fact, I was willing to give him the medication that I wasn’t taking.
“Are you okay?” I asked. When I touched him, he yanked away from me this time.
“Please don’t touch me, Eva.”
“Why are you upset with me?”
“Because you are always doing stuff to humiliate me. It’s one thing when it’s just me. I can handle it better than I can when it happens in front of my family and colleagues. And all for nothing.”
“But Joan started it.”
“Yeah, she may have started it, but at what point do you trust me? When I tell you it’s nothing, believe that for a change.”
“Men always lie, and you had no business telling her about my health challenges.”
Myles scoffed and nodded. “Okay, Eva. I hate to burst your bubble, but remember when I told you Joan worked at a hospital? She works at Piedmont Psychiatric Hospital. The place I took you to when the Sabrina incident happened. Joan is the discharge coordinator, and I’m assuming when your chart came across her desk for review, she saw my name. Because of her bitterness, ego, and fear of losing her coveted position as ‘lead wife’ since her husband is not the lead agent, she decided to have a little fun with your mind.”
“She can’t do that. That’s a violation of her job.”
“Well, she did, and instead of trusting me, you fell for it. So hear me clearly. Maria does not exist. She was only a trigger to induce your paranoia.”
“She can get fired for that.”
“I’m sure Joan will find a way to spin it. You should have trusted me.”
“Well, next time I will.”
“I don’t think there will be a next time.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I need time. I need time to think if I want to continue to put up with this.”
My heart seemed to break into tiny pieces. Pieces that were too small to put back together. “You’re leaving?”
He blew out a long breath before saying, “I just need some space right now.”
With all his efforts to prepare me for the function, things still went wrong. I thought I could handle it.
“Myles, you can’t leave me. I’m pregnant.”
Entry 28
Dear Diary:
Three months had passed since I announced my pregnancy to Myles. He didn’t leave me, but there was an uncomfortable shift in our relationship. He moved out of the bedroom he shared with me and into the spare room, and no matter how many times I appeared naked in front of him or tried to get physical, I was invisible to him.
The night Myles threatened to leave me, it made me nervous. It made me want to get my act together. I made sure that I was current on my shot, and I began taking my oral meds as prescribed.
Faithfully.
Myles was not attentive to my pregnancy needs. Plus, he was dry and distant as a husband. Fun times for us were long gone. Whenever I’d try to make small talk, Myles would offer only a few words in return.
He did manage to ask the same question often. “How did you become pregnant if you’re on birth control?”
“Abstinence is the only guaranteed method,” I told him.
“Uh-huh.”
“You should know that.” I rolled my eyes, not happy with his line of questioning.
No matter how much I tried to be a doting wife and make the best of the situation, there was always some kind of question from Myles. The more he inquired, the more difficult the questions became.
As I made dinner one night, Myles decided to interrogate me, which was nothing new lately. “How many months along did you say you were?”
“Three.”
“Three?” he repeated. “Why is your stomach still flat? And I could have sworn I’ve seen period pads in your trash can.”
“Yes, three. And the sanitary napkins are being used for something associated with my pregnancy, not my cycle.”
He cocked his head to the side and poked out his lips to question the validity of my statement.
To further prove him wrong, I untied my apron and lifted my shirt to show him that my stomach was growing. “Remember, Myles, you and I have not been together as husband and wife since the day of your Christmas party, so you have no idea what my body looks like.” I then cocked my head to the side and poked out my lips as a way of saying, “Checkmate.”
