Respect Me, Part 1 by Nia Arthurs
Jerrison
How doyou placate a fuming wife?
I did flowers, dessert and jewelry last time. It got me a hot night in bed, but that quickly fizzled out the next morning when Harriet and I fought. Again. Over… what? I can’t even remember now. All I remember is the bitterness I felt. The frustration. The exhaustion.
Does it even matter what goes wrong? All Harriet wants to do is blame me for it. My wife refuses to take responsibility for her own actions.
I sigh loudly as I tap my fingers against the steering wheel. I’d much rather be with Ashley right now, romancing her over a glass of wine and a prime rib steak at a nice restaurant. I prefer tender conversations that always end in laughter. Strappy heels that slide against mine under the table. Fingers that run up my thighs. I’d much rather soft lips on my neck and legs wrapped around my waist.
Instead, I have to prepare myself for war with Harriet. For quarrels that end in raised voices and slamming doors. Feet stomping up the stairs. Hooks rattling. Pans clanking. Cold food. No food. Silence. Scowls instead of laughter.
It’s not like I ask for the world. I’m a good husband. A fair husband. I haven’t asked Harriet to be a wife. Ironed clothes. Food on the table when I get home. Dusting, sweeping, washing clothes and dishes.
We both work hard and we can afford a cleaner.
We can afford to eat out.
I’ve never been the type of man who expects his woman to stay chained to the oven after coming home exhausted from work. But is it too much to ask for a massage after all the work I’ve done? Too much for her to sit down and listen to me complain about Zedina’s temper tantrum or my accomplishment in signing Fuentes? Too much for her to wear nicer clothes, dress like a woman instead of a tomboy in ratty shirts and pants that do nothing for her figure?
I shake my head when I remember what my wife was wearing last night. She took off the flattering outfit and pulled on the ugliest mumu dress I’ve ever seen in my life. If there was ever a sign that she didn’t want me to touch her, it was that dress.
I’m not complaining.
I chose her.
She’s my wife.
That’s fine.
But it doesn’t help when we’re skating on thin ice. Will our relationship always be this way? This miserable? This distant?
I can’t leave her.
And she can’t leave me.
Is this what I’m going to come home to for the rest of my life?
I stop the car in front of our home and rub my forehead. Harriet’s vehicle is in the driveway.
She’s here.
I fight back the knot of disappointment that crawls into my chest.
This is good.
I can talk to her quickly and still make it in time to pick up Ashley.
“Come on, Jerrison,” I murmur to the empty car. Gathering all my courage, I exhale deeply.
My fingers curl around the door handle. Pull. Push. Open.
The late afternoon breeze curls into my shirt and tugs.
I take a step.
Another.
The front door looms like the gates of hell.
Behind it is the devil.
That’s unfair, Jerrison.
Harriet isn’t the devil. She’s just the bane of my existence right now. A nagging in my ear. A demanding woman eager to bite my head off.
I reach for the knob. Hesitate.
Finally, I open the door.
Better to get this conversation over with sooner rather than later.
If I can’t convince Harriet to attend the party with me, I’ll have to go solo. The investors will understand. I’ll tell them she’s sick or something. I might even invite Ashley. We won’t be able to hang out in front of everyone, but there are plenty of corridors and storage closets available. I’m sure I can whisk her away for some privacy.
I’m feeling confident when I swing the door open. “Harriet, are you…”
The words ball in my throat and die a sudden death.
I sniff the air.
Sniff again.
“What is that…?” It smells like paradise. I follow the scent to the kitchen where my eyes nearly bulge out of my head. Harriet is flitting around the stove. There’s meat frying to a crisp in one pan. Vegetables sautéed in another. Noodles boiling on the stove.
Harriet whirls around. Her dark eyes fall on me. For a moment, they dim and then the expression is gone.
She brightens. Nods. “You’re home.
“I am.”
Turning her arm over, she checks her watch. The white band brings more attention to her soft brown skin. “I didn’t expect you so soon. Can you wait a couple more minutes? Let me quickly finish this up.”
My jaw drops. “You were cooking… for me?”
“Yes, Jerrison.” Her voice carries a hint of amusement. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“You’re making it sound like I never cook.”
“You rarely do.”
“That’s because it takes a lot of time.”
I walk toward her. “Did you really cook all this for me?”
Her smile is reserved.
I wrap my arms around her. “Baby, what’s the occasion?”
“No occasion.” She nudges me away and takes a giant step back. “I just figured I should do something nice for you.”
I get another whiff of the scrumptious fragrance and my stomach gurgles loudly. It’s been a while since I’ve had a hearty, home-cooked meal. Eating out all the time can get old fast.
“Why don’t you wash up and I’ll have this ready by the time you come down.”
I slant her a strange look. “Why are you talking like that?”
“Like what?” She turns the stove off and glides around the kitchen.
“‘Wash up’—you never tell me to do that.”
“I set a bath for you.”
My jaw hits the floor.
She smiles and this one reaches her pretty brown eyes. “Stop it, Jerrison. You’re really making it seem like I never do anything for you.”
I scramble around the small kitchen table and wrap my arms around her. Pressing a kiss to her temple, I rumble in a pleased voice. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I like it.”
“Go.” She pushes me off, unease flashing in her eyes for a second before she covers it with a smile.
I drop another kiss on her cheek and prance up the stairs. To my surprise, I find a clean set of clothes on the bed. When I step into the bathroom, I find candles lit and freshly laundered towels, hot from the dryer on the rack.
My chest swells as I take a quick bath.
So this is what it feels like to be treated like a king. I have no idea what got into Harriet. I’m just glad she finally gets it.
Once I’m clean and dressed, I head downstairs and find the table beautifully set with pasta, steak, tossed salad and a glass of wine.
“Baby.” I shake my head, at a loss for words. “This looks incredible.”
Her lips tighten. “Yes, well, I’m glad you like it.”
My smile widens. Harriet’s in a good mood, which means this is the perfect time to ask about the party. “Are you free on the twenty-fifth?”
“For what?” Harriet serves me a well-done steak and plops a healthy dose of pasta on my plate.
I stare at her, totally blown away. She stopped sharing out my food about five years ago. I’ve been fixing my own plate for as long as I can remember.
“Jerrison?” She waves a hand in my face.
“A party.” I clear my throat and turn my body towards her.
She slips a lock of her straight hair behind her ear. “Sure.”
“You already agreed? You normally ask who’s going to be there and how long you have to stay.”
“It’s for work, right?”
“It is.” I nod.
“It’s important.” She wipes her hand on the side of her pretty, floral dress. When her eyes meet mine, my heart skips a beat. “If it’s important to you, then I’ll go.”
I can’t breathe.
This isn’t my wife.
Someone must have swapped her out for another version.
“Is that all?” Harriet asks.
“Yeah.”
She bobs her head. “I’ll put it in my calendar.”
When I notice her leaving, I grab her wrist. “Where are you going?”
“I’ve eaten already.” This time, she can’t drum up a smile.
I place my hand on her forehead. “Are you okay? Are you sick?”
“I’m okay.” She gently pushes my arm away.
I watch her march up the stairs, noting the way she balls her hands into fists even as she smiles at me.
What’s going on?
Suspicious, I sniff the food.
“Did she poison this?” I wonder aloud. It smells too good to pass up and I figure Harriet wouldn’t be that vengeful. I eat everything in my plate and go back for seconds.
After, I head upstairs to thank her. “That was incredible.”
“Glad you liked it.”
My phone buzzes.
It’s Ashley asking if I’m still busy.
I walk over to Harriet and wrap my arms around her waist.
She stiffens against me.
I kiss her neck to help her relax. “I have an appointment now, but I can blow it off if you want. Maybe we can go on a date? Watch a movie or something?”
“That’s okay. You can go ahead with your appointment.”
My eyebrows spike to the top of my head. “Seriously?”
She turns and puts my arms away. “Seriously. When will you get back?”
“I’m not sure.” I scratch my head. “Patrick invited me out tonight. Just the guys.” The lie falls off my tongue. “A few drinks and conversation.”
“I’ll pick out a nice outfit for you.”
My eyelashes flutter so hard I’m afraid they’re about to fall off. “That’s it?”
“What’s it?” Harriet returns to folding up my clothes.
“You’re not upset that I’m hanging out with the boys tonight?”
“Just don’t come home drunk.” She shakes her head. “I can’t carry you up the stairs again. You’re too heavy.”
I swoop in and capture her lips. “I love you.”
Her mouth barely moves against mine.
It’s not until I’m out of the house and cruising down the lane to Ashley’s that I realize my wife didn’t say she loved me too.
