Respect Me, Part 1 by Nia Arthurs
Harriet
Doc toldme to leave my husband.
If it were that easy, I would have packed up and left a long time ago. I would have torn all his clothes to shreds before I did. Set fire to his prized possessions—his baseball cards, his boxing gloves, his signed football from a legend in the field.
But I haven’t.
Couldn’t.
Didn’t.
Because every time I think about leaving, I remember who Jerrison is. Beneath the mistakes he’s made beats the heart of the man I married. The man who showered me with love. The man who was there for me when my mother died. The man who took my side when I fell out with my father. The man who made me feel like I wasn’t alone in the world.
I turn the matter around and around in my head. Look at it from all sides. Fold it into a thousands shapes, placing them into my pocket so I can test how it’ll feel. How the sharp edges will rub against me. How the absence of it will torture me.
Leave.
Walk away.
It’s not that easy.
If it were, wives would leave at the first sign. The first lace panties in the wash that didn’t belong to anyone who lived in the house. The first earring under the seat. The first call that made his eyes shift and his feet move to another room. The first lie. The first excuse. The first apology.
If it were that simple, we wouldn’t stay.
But it’s not.
Doc doesn’t understand the female mind. He couldn’t possibly understand love, that complicated, tangled web that traps a person, keeps their soul under lock and key, never to escape.
Leave.
And go where?
A hotel. An apartment. For how long?
There’s rent. Joint bank accounts. Bills in his name and mine.
The franchise I manage belongs to both of us. The car is still being leased.
I’ll need time to sort that out. Details will crop up that I’ve never even thought about. It’s discouraging just imagining all the planning I’ll have to do to separate my life from his. The tearing of one strip of paper. The dismantling of an entity that’s spent too long as one, unable to find its footing alone.
I could ask him to leave, but that would open its own can of worms. He could pull rank, point to the fact that he pays most of the mortgage, the utilities, all the taxes. He could easily tell me he won’t go and it’s not like I can have him thrown out.
It’ll get ugly.
So nasty.
Doc warned me that I’d have to find the fighter inside. Pull out the boxer I used to be and prime her for battle. He warned me this wouldn’t be easy, but he didn’t even give me a warm up. My first assignment is a task that is almost too impossible to pursue.
I’m nervous when I get dressed to see Doc. My hands reach past the T-shirts and old jeans for the armor of a sleek black jacket, an expensive white top and green slacks. I look polished and presentable. The kind of woman who wouldn’t be caught dead spending time in a mechanic shop.
My goal today is only to inform.
Maybe I’ll beg a little too.
Can’t he give me something else? Something I can work towards. Small steps. Baby steps.
I’ll keep handing him the wrench for another ten months if I have to.
Doc greets me with both eyebrows arched and hands limp at his sides. Dark hands snap the tool box closed. Even if I came to work, he wouldn’t invite me to.
His black eyes bore into my soul, fishing out the pieces of me I thought I’d hidden well. “I told you not to come back until you’d completed your assignment.”
“What if I needed some time?” I wrap my fingers around my purse and squeeze it. “What if I can’t leave right away?”
He says nothing for a moment, but his gaze narrows. Disappointment? Annoyance? “That is not a problem.”
“W-what?” I’d expected raised voices and harsh words. Lips that tightened in fury. Hands that pointed to the door.
“As long as it’s clear what your assignment is.”
“Wasn’t that… isn’t the assignment to leave?”
“That’s only a part of the assignment.” Doc grabs a rag and begins to wipe the oil from his dirty fingers. “Your task is to go back to dating. That means no sex. No petting. No touching.”
“My husband will only get worse if I don’t sleep with him.”
Doc freezes. I see the moment every bone in his body goes deadly still.
My own muscles tense in response.
With a harsh squint in my direction, Doc grips the rag tight. “When we started this, I told you that you’d need to be relentless. The minute you regress into the old thinking, I’m done.”
I shrivel inside myself. The finality in his tone is full of conviction. A conviction I lack. And one he can grasp so easily and unapologetically.
The comparison shames me.
“Harriet, you could either be a lady or you could be a leader. If you choose to be a lady, I’ll be finished with you. If you choose to be a leader, I’ll commit to you and to this process until the very end. Regardless of what that conclusion is.” He takes a step toward me, his words slow to emphasize his point. “Let me know right now because I don’t help ladies, only men.”
I push my shoulders back and jump on his words to avoid the lesson behind them. “Doc, are you saying that woman can’t be leaders?”
His eyes narrow to slits in a way that says you know that’s not what I meant.
I stubbornly glare at him, glad I have a weapon that I can use to clash against his instructions. “You’re suggesting that women can’t be leaders, Doc. I take offense to that.”
He stops just short of rolling his eyes. “There is a difference between a woman in leadership and a woman in a relationship.”
“And what is that?” I raise a brow.
“A woman in a committed relationship is operating under this curse—that her desire will be for her husband and he will rule over her. This is not like a leader. A leader decides their own destiny. They are not submitted to any man. In fact, a man follows the leader. You see this in the context of the workplace where a man will carry out the instructions of his female boss.”
“Exactly.” I jerk my chin down. “You just walked yourself into a corner, Doc. Women can be leaders.”
“Yes. In the context of the work place.” He gives me the side-eye. “But this is not the way it’s designed in a relationship.”
I scoff at his ridiculous notions. “If it’s so impossible to be the leader in the relationship, why are you instructing me to become one?”
“I’m not suggesting you become the leader over your husband but over your own destiny.” Doc’s voice gets louder. A preacher on his pulpit. “I want you to be in control of what does and doesn’t happen to you. I want you to be in control of what you will allow.” He shakes his head. “But if you’re functioning as a lady and not the leader, you’re under the curse and will accept whatever he gives.”
My heart prickles with frustration. “I didn’t think you were a superstitious man, Doc. You should know that curses don’t exist.”
“This one does.”
“And how do you know that?” I fold my arms over my chest, barely restraining the eye roll.
“It’s in the manual.
I wait for him to expound.
He doesn’t.
This conversation feels like pulling teeth.
I throw my hands up. “And what is this manual?
“Other people call it the Bible, but for me it’s a book of instructions. A book of principles. If you walk by it, you’re guaranteed your outcome. You break it, you’re also guaranteed the outcome.”
“I don’t believe in religion, Doc, so if that’s where you’re coming from…”
“That’s excellent because I don’t believe in it either.”
I fold my hands over my chest. Yeah right.
Doc doesn’t seem bothered at all. He waves a hand as he speaks. “Your job is to allow the leader inside to take over. It won’t be easy. The fact that you’re saying you can’t leave your husband and need more time is already hinting at your reluctance.”
“I… that’s not true.”
“That’s expected, Harriet. In a marriage, you are designed and destined to be a follower. But right now you are not in a marriage. Your husband is making a commitment to some other woman out there. That is communicating to you that you are not his priority. So now you have to default to being the king of your own life.”
“I was always the king of my own life, Doc. You think that man can tell me what to do?” I scoff.
Doc looks at me as if he wants to argue but, at the last minute, he pins his lips together.
“And I never said I was ‘reluctant’. I’m going to leave!” I scowl at his face and snarl at his unspoken judgement. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t leave. Just that I needed more time.”
“There’s one more thing.” Doc lifts a dirty finger. I brace myself and, sure enough, the mechanic delivers a startling blow. “While you are staying with him before you leave, do your utmost best to honor him.”
My heart smacks against my ribs, curdling in instant rebellion. “You’ve got to be kidding me! You want me to honor him? After everything he’s done to me? Why?”
“Because wives are instructed to honor their husbands in the manual and the husbands are instructed to love their wives.”
“I thought you weren’t religious!” I throw my hands against my hips.
“I told you. This book is not a religious book. It’s a manual.” He tilts his head to the side. “I understand that it’s hard, but you are not honoring him because he deserves it. You are honoring him because of his position and to create an ambience that we’re going to break. He will not be expecting that, after you honor him, you’ll leave.”
My outrage cools somewhat when I imagine playing the part of the doting wife while preparing to leave Jerrison. There’s something extra cruel about that. About his confusion when he finds me gone. It’s delicious to imagine.
Doc’s voice breaks into my thoughts. “Remember, honoring him does not mean sleeping with him. It means you won’t degrade him, be rude to him, or lash out at him. If he asks you to do something for him, go ahead. Except if it’s sex.” Doc gives me a warning look.
“I understood you the first time, Doc. We’re going back to being strangers before we even started dating. No kissing. No sex.”
“Exactly.” He gives a pleased little nod. “It’s similar to being at work where you don’t like the boss. Just play the role until you get out of there.” He opens the tool box again and pulls out a wrench. “Can you handle that?”
There’s more than my relationship hanging in the balance now.
My pride’s at stake.
I grab the wrench from Doc. “Hell yeah.”
