The Side Effects of You Page 8

  “No problem.” She headed for the door, then turned back to look at me. “One more thing.”

  “What is it?”

  “I do want you to be happy. I know you need someone, so I hope you have a great date.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, baby.”

  “You’re welcome.” She exited my bedroom, and I examined the outfit. It was a bit much, but Ana was trendy, and I wanted to look good.

  Just then the bell sounded again, and I rushed back to the front.

  All I had to do was wait until one o’clock to go get my makeover. I was too excited.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Andrea

  As I headed to the salon, I thought about the day before, and I wanted to vomit again.

  That day, I had sat and looked around the restaurant, wondering what was keeping Helen. I hated to be too early, and being early when your party was late sucked. I looked around some more. Everyone was dressed in their Sunday best. My thoughts shifted to Quentin. I didn’t know why, but I thought about us having brunch after church and going home to change into some comfortable lounge clothes and cooking something fabulous together for dinner. I imagined us cooking while sipping on wine and listening to some neo-soul. And after eating and winding down with a movie or prime-time television, we would turn in and make love.

  Quentin would have been the fun husband who always made me laugh. He’d remember anniversaries, birthdays, and he’d give me “just because” gifts.

  I remembered back when he earned his first paycheck from the Taco Bell in the mall. He took me to Red Lobster. Back then, on a minimum-wage budget, that was considered fancy. That was the first night I let him inside of my body.

  Even though I talked to boys and had so-called boyfriends, I never could trust them and would only go to second base. A little kissing, fondling, grinding, but never would I take off my clothes for another. But Quentin was different. I was in love with him instantly, and when I gave it to him, he and I became closer. We acted like a married couple. Everyone knew how much we were in love. My mother was upset when we moved in together, but my father convinced her to allow me to love whomever I wanted to love. Plus, I knew he knew that I’d be with Quentin no matter what, even if it meant living in a cardboard box. He quickly jumped in and offered us one of his rental units.

  “Mother Young,” a voice said. It snapped me out of my deep thoughts.

  “Sister Helen, please sit. And please call me Andrea.”

  She sat and put her handbag on the only empty chair. My purse had already made its home on the other.

  “So, to what do I owe this meeting?” I asked, jumping right in.

  “I need a drink first,” she said. Her hands were shaking. I could tell she was nervous about our meeting.

  “Sure. Take your time.”

  This had to be bad. I just knew she was pregnant, and I wondered how I was going to receive the information. I knew my husband might have been creeping, but with his best friend’s wife? That was low. I mentally braced myself for the impact.

  The server came over, and we both put our drink orders in.

  “Would you like a menu?” the server asked.

  I spoke first. “No. Just the drink.”

  “Yes, only the drink, and make it a double,” Helen said.

  I looked at her closely. She looked as if she hadn’t slept. Relieved that a pregnancy probably was not her news, since she’d ordered a double, I went from ten to eight. An affair wouldn’t be a surprise, but if it was with Franklin’s wife, it was a huge deal.

  She scanned the room and rubbed her hands together. I didn’t push. I just waited for our drinks. When the server sat them in front of us, Helen downed hers immediately and then asked the server for another. We didn’t talk until after the third round.

  “Listen, Sister Helen, apparently, this is some heavy news, so out with it. Are you and Jeremiah having an affair?” I went for the truth. No more stalling.

  She burst into laughter. She laughed hysterically, and people turned to look. Then her laughter turned into a silent cry.

  “Sister Helen?”

  “Andrea, I wish I had come here to tell you that it is me who is sleeping with your husband, but it’s not me.”

  I frowned. “Not you?” I wondered if Franklin knew something about another woman and had let it slip to his wife. “Has Franklin told you something about my husband? Come on, Sister Helen. Enough with the hesitation. Tell me what’s going on. Tell me why we are here,” I demanded.

  “Pastor Young isn’t interest in me, or in any other woman at the church, as a matter of fact.” She looked up and blinked, and a couple of tears fell.

  “Helen, what are you saying? Tell me!”

  “He is sleeping with my husband,” she blurted.

  The room suddenly stood still. I didn’t hear any sounds anymore, just a dead silence. I batted my eyes several times, and then I laughed. I laughed harder than she had. That was absurd. Jeremiah was unaffectionate and was even an asshole on occasion, but gay? Hell to the naw! That was the funniest thing I had ever heard in my life.

  “It’s not a joke,” she sneered.

  “It is. My husband is not gay. Jeremiah is a homophobe. And he preaches against homosexuality constantly. No way. You are mistaken, sweetie.” I laughed again.

  “I have proof,” she whispered.

  I stopped laughing. “Come again?”

  “I have proof.”

  Oh, my Jesus. “What kind of proof?”

  “I recorded them.” Huge teardrops settled in her eyes, and I knew she wasn’t pulling my leg.

  “Okay. Let’s see.”

  She reached for her handbag and pulled out her phone.

  “I came home from work one day early, and I saw Pastor Young’s SUV in my drive. That day, I had a throbbing headache, and I just wanted an aspirin and my bed. When I walked in, the house was quiet, like a funny quiet. I expected to see Pastor and Franklin in the family room or the kitchen, you know, but there was no one there. I crept up to Franklin’s office door, and I heard weird moaning noises, and I thought, No. It can’t be.

  “The door was cracked open, not all the way closed, so I peeked in. When I saw them, my jaw dropped and my feet froze in place. I wanted to burst in and confront them both, but your husband is a powerful man and a pillar of the community. I stepped away, went for my phone, and I recorded them.” She slid her phone across to me. “Just hit PLAY.”

  Trembling, I hit the button. There they were. Franklin was bent over at his desk, and my husband was fucking him like he was a female. Mortified, disgusted, and shocked, I couldn’t stop watching. It was like I had to watch it longer to believe it. Finally, I had had enough, and I pressed STOP. I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t scream, and I couldn’t cuss. I just handed her back her phone, reached for my purse, grabbed two twenties out of my wallet, put them on the table, and ran out of the restaurant.

  She ran out behind me. “Andrea, please! What do we do?”

  I held my car door handle and turned to her, my teeth clenched. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I’m going to kill my husband.”

  With that, I got into my car and drove toward home. About a mile away from the house, I pulled off the road and had a grown-up tantrum. I sobbed, cussed, banged the steering wheel, and asked God to help me. How had I married a so-called man of God who was fucking men? I was so disgusted, I got out and vomited on the side of the road.

  My chest was tight, and I knew I had to calm down, before I had a heart attack, a seizure, or a stroke. I didn’t feel like myself, and I didn’t know who to call or where to go. I was too ashamed to call anyone close to me and share that information, so I called Quentin.

  “Andrea, hey.”

  “Quentin, I’m on Fifty-Fifth and Stony,” I cried. “Please come and get me. If I drive, I may crash. Please come for me.”

  “What’s wrong, baby? What is it?”

  By then I was crying uncontrollably. “Just come, please. I need someone.”
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  “Don’t move. I’m on my way.”

  I rested my head on my arms, which were propped up on my steering wheel. About forty minutes later, he tapped on my window. I opened the car door, got out, and fell into his arms. He held me there on the street and let me sob without saying a word. He just held me tight.

  “Thanks for coming,” I said, finally summoning words.

  “You don’t have to thank me, Andrea. Baby, what happened? Did someone die?”

  “No. Can we go to your place? I can’t go home.”

  “Sure,” he said and helped me into the passenger seat of his car. He parked my car correctly on the street, because my back end was out, then got my purse, keys, and phone.

  As we rode to his house, I couldn’t stop sniffling and he held my hand. As soon as we got inside his place, I asked for a drink.

  “What would you like?”

  “Tequila, if you have it, and please bring the bottle.” I stepped out of my shoes and flopped down on his sofa. He came back with a bottle of Patrón and two glasses. After two shots and a few tears, I told him the entire story.

  I lay in his arms until my phone rang two hours later. It was the kids. They needed to be picked up. I called Regina, Kelly’s mom, and lied and said I had things going on at the church and asked if she could get the kids home for me. She agreed without question. She wasn’t a churchgoer, so she didn’t ask for details.

  When I hung up, Quentin asked, “Are you hungry?”

  “No. Not for food.”

  “What are you hungry for?”

  I began to unbutton my buttons.

  He stopped me. “No, Andrea. We can’t, not while you’re like this. You’re upset and hurt, and I don’t want you like this. Not in this state of mind.”

  “Oh, so now you don’t want me?” I snapped. “Last night you were ready to fuck me.”

  “Yes, last night I wanted you, but you decided not to, because of your vows.”

  “Fuck my vows, Q. He is a fag, a homo. A fucking lying, cheating ...” I sobbed.

  He held me. “Shhh. Baby, it’s okay. This is why we can’t. This is why I can’t do that. You are so emotional now. Being with me isn’t going to make you feel better, and I can’t risk it making you feel even worse. I’m here for you, baby, and I will be with you until the end. But I want you to want me because you truly want me, not because you want to get even or lash out. I love you too much to let you go out like that.”

  He’d said the word love. He’d said he loved me. I loved him too, I always had, and he was right. I was just so hurt and angry. I had to iron out my relationship with Jeremiah before dragging Quentin into my web of drama.

  “You’re right, and thank you for being the brains in this moment. And yes, baby, I’m hungry.”

  “Well, go and freshen up. I’ll take you to dinner and then back to your car.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. I grabbed my purse, and he showed me to the bathroom. I got myself together and smiled. I had my way out. Not only had he cheated on me, but he’d done it with a man. I could walk away from him without feeling any guilt. I was free, and things suddenly didn’t seem so grim. Then again, my husband was having an affair with a man. Who wanted the world to know that?

  A moment later, I got a message alert on my phone. Sister Helen had e-mailed me the video clip from her phone. I downloaded it. I put on a fake smile, and Quentin and I went to dinner. When I got home later that evening, I was elated to see my kids. After I tucked them in, I grabbed my sleeping aid and took a bath. I had a great night’s sleep, but the fact that my husband was gay brought tears to my eyes. I knew I wasn’t okay.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Samantha

  I sat in my car, waiting for them to arrive. I knew I was a bit early, so the wait didn’t bother me at all. My mind drifted back to Ethan. I didn’t have a legitimate reason to stop seeing him, none that would make sense, so what was I going to tell him? The truth? Yeah, right! That would be the ideal way to end it. He wouldn’t ask any questions; he’d just bounce, I imagined. I wondered if he would be angry about me kissing him without telling him the truth about my virus. Hell, I didn’t have anything going on in my mouth or on my lips, but this secret was stabbing me in the damn stomach. I wished someone knew so they could give me some friendly advice on what to do. I liked him so much.

  Damn. Why me? I put a hand to my forehead and shook my head.

  I was bound to be alone and was destined to live with my vibrator for the rest of my life. I had even thought of joining one of those sites where others who had my condition chatted, but I was just too scared to share it with anyone. This was one of the side effects of loving the wrong damn man. I didn’t want a soul to know, and I wanted to kill the doctor who had given me my results. I had driven from her office, paranoid, thinking she had tweeted it after I left. Even though I knew that was impossible, I had been paranoid about it.

  I had also thought Charles would tell others, because he had sworn that he didn’t have it and that he didn’t give it to me, but he was a coldhearted liar. I’d punched him in his lying face when he told me that bullshit. He’d stood there and said, “I don’t know who you’ve been sleeping with, but I didn’t give you that shit. I’m clean.” He had gone to the doctor and everything and had tried to show me some bogus, altered documents. I’d thrown his lying ass out.

  I hadn’t had any other partners in almost seven years, so he had to be the one. And he had thought I was going to stay with his lying ass? Ha. He’d had me mixed up with someone else.

  Now I was falling for a new guy, but I had an old secret. “Shit,” I said. “What the hell? I don’t deserve this,” I whined.

  A tap on my window scared the hell out me.

  It was Andrea. She wasn’t as glamorous looking as she’d been the last time I saw her. There had to be some heavy shit on her mind for her to look so plain. She was a plus-sized woman, but she was so damn pretty and so put together, no one could say one negative about her.

  I opened my door. “Girl, you scared the shit outta me.”

  “I’m sorry, darling. I was waving, but I couldn’t get your attention.”

  “I have a ton of shit on my mind.”

  “Welcome to my world.”

  “Well, after you get Josie to gorgeous, we can go have a few drinks and talk.” I had never had the desire to tell anyone about my condition, but I wanted to tell Andrea. She seemed trustworthy, and since we weren’t super close, I felt she’d have no one to tell.

  “I so need it,” she replied.

  We headed inside, and I took a seat. A minute or two later, Josie walked in.

  “Hey, Sam,” she called.

  I stood, and we hugged. “Hey, darling. So good to see you.”

  “You too, and, Andrea, you are a lifesaver. I owe you big-time. You have no idea how bad I need this. I haven’t even looked at a man since José, and I wished to God till this day that I’d never met him.”

  “Girl, you are preaching to the choir.” Andrea’s eyes welled up. “I want to go back in time so bad right now. You have no idea.”

  “Andrea, you’re not the only one. Don’t cry. I’ve been where you are, and trust, it gets easier with time,” I said.

  “I don’t know what it is you’re going through, but trust, baby, I have an ex-husband in prison, a teen that hates me, and I haven’t had dick in what . . . ?” Josie looked up at the ceiling. “Let’s just say in too damn long. I want to be sexy, beautiful. I want him to be in a trance when he lays eyes on me,” she purred. Her eyes danced, and her smile was bright. I could tell she was excited.

  Josie was about five feet four, slim, a six or seven, with a little belly fat, which could easily be tucked into a shaper. She was tanned, with wavy hair that hung to the center of her back, like an arrow to her plump ass. Not much up top, but her hips and ass made up for what she lacked. Huge, round brown eyes and a smile that automatically made you smile back at her. She was not a diva, and she had an innocent look. She was beaut
iful, but she could be fierce with the right makeup and hairstyle.

  “That is exactly what I’m going to do. Come back. Let’s get you shampooed and conditioned, and then we will talk styles.”

  Once Josie was under the dryer, Andrea handed me a glass of red and sat. She sipped in silence, but I could see the stress all over her face.

  “Whatever it is, it’s not the end of the world, Andrea.” I smiled at her.

  “I know, but the repercussions from what he did are going to bring so much shame and embarrassment to my family. I’m not worried about me, Samantha. I am actually relieved to have a reason to end it all, because I’m miserable in this marriage. But I’m worried about the gossip, the shame, and my children. This is big.” She downed the rest of her drink. “These are the side effects of staying with a man who you know you should have left a long time ago, and I’m not ready to deal with it.”

  I just said the same thing to myself, I thought. “You’re not the only one dealing with side effects from a man, Andrea. When we go out a little later, I’m going to share my story with you. It’s not to compare pain or to say my story is worse. It’s just to share and let you see that you are not the only one who has something to be ashamed about with an ex.” The dryer stopped. “Josie doesn’t know,” I whispered.

  She nodded and went to get Josie. Once Josie was seated, she started pointing out hairstyles in the stylebook she had browsed through while under the dryer. I went over to watch, and after a little debate, Josie decided on a drastic change, a tapered neck and bob. Andrea and I agreed it would be beautiful on her.

  Andrea did the cut, rinsed her again, and set her hair in some large rollers. She put Josie back under the dryer, and while we waited, she and I kept up our conversation on fashion and clothes. When Josie’s hair was dry, Andrea did her brows first, gave her a quick face cleansing, and then made up her face. Even in rollers, Josie already looked like a new person.

  “Oh my God, Andrea. I can’t believe this is me. I look so . . . Wow. You are . . . I look . . .” Josie grew silent and sat there, admiring herself in the mirror.

  “Hold on. Let’s get your hair out of these rollers, and then you can thank me,” Andrea told her.