Respect Me, Part 1 by Nia Arthurs
Harriet
The bellabove the salon door jingles as I exit behind Pax. The wind blows through my newly installed weave and I can’t resist the urge to run my fingers through it.
“You really look gorgeous,” Pax says, linking her arm in mine. Brown eyes sparkle as she adds. “Not that you didn’t look gorgeous before.”
I laugh loudly. “Thanks.”
“Seriously though, Harriet. Don’t take this the wrong way but, you always used to look so… miserable.”
“I was miserable. I thought barking at people would help me hide it.”
She smirks. “Is that why you were so mean to me when we first met?”
“Girl, I was mean to you because you’re a gorgeous heiress. My own issues had nothing to do with it. I would have snapped at you regardless.”
Pax throws her head back and laughs. “You’re right. You’re a little too blunt to be dishonest.”
“Let’s go back to the part where you were complimenting me.” I throw my hair over my shoulder just because I can.
Pax does a slow clap. “Stunning. Brilliant.”
“Thank you.” I strike a pose, one hand on my hip and the other on the back of my head.
“What inspired this sudden girls’ day?” Pax asks, pressing the alarm on her fancy car. The lights blink in response.
I reach for the door of the truck and glance at her over the roof. “I deserve it.”
She tilts her head, listening keenly.
“I had a couple decent months of marriage before it went to hell. After a while, all that running around, fighting with mistresses and quarreling with a man grinds you into dust.”
Pax nods in understanding.
I lift both shoulders. “Not having to worry about where my husband is or who he’s with or whose bed he climbed into last night is… freeing.” I realize I’m standing in the middle of the sidewalk talking about my business and chuckle. “I’m hungry. What do you feel like having for lunch? I’m buying.”
We take off, heading to one of our favorite diners on the outskirts of the city.
On the way there, Pax turns hesitantly to me. “Did Jerrison really ask for Doc’s number yesterday?”
“It was completely out of the blue.” I pull down the car’s sun visor and check my makeup. The sun caresses my skin, doing beautiful things to my dark tone. It picks up the hint of gold I applied on my cheeks and the russet shade of my lip gloss.
“You don’t…” Pax clears her throat. Light brown fingers stretch and adjust on the steering wheel.
“I don’t what?”
“Feel anything about that?”
“What am I supposed to feel?” I slap the sun visor up and fold my arms over my chest. “Him asking for Doc’s number doesn’t mean he’s going to go.”
“You don’t know that. Maybe he misses you.”
This time, the laugh that escapes my throat is bitter. “Just a few days ago, he was bawling about how I couldn’t control him.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Doc said that Jerrison’s response from here on out is going to show how much I mean to him. I’m not going to jump into his arms just because he’s going through the motions.” The sunshine burns my eyes. I rummage through my purse for my dark shades and slip them on. “Besides, I’m enjoying myself right now.”
The concerned expression on Pax’s face gives way to intrigue. “Are you?”
I nod. “I feel like it’s been a really long time since I’ve been quiet, you know? Just me and myself. Being away from the drama has given me the space to reconnect with who I am and remember the kind of person I want to be.”
“And who is that?”
“Strong.” I lift my fist and raise it. “Dignified. Accomplished. I don’t want to be known as the wife of a man who can’t keep it in his pants. I’m more than that, you know? I have more to offer this world.”
Pax bumps my fist. “You go, girl. You’re amazing.”
“I’m amazing!” I scream to the wind rushing through the car. I scream to the woman just emerging from the rubble of a terrible marriage. I scream to the future Harriet who’ll, one day, find snatches of joy in the sunshine and peace in an empty bed at night.
Pax turns up the radio and my hips respond to the rhythm. We belt out the lyrics loud enough for the drivers on either side of us to peer into the car, probably wondering what animal is dying in here.
I whip my hair back and forth. Toast to the new lease I’ve got on life.
New beginnings.
They’re sweet. Fresh as citrus.
Even if it’s hard, I’m excited to rediscover me.
Encouraged by my day with Pax, I decide to take one more step toward reclaiming the Harriet I used to know.
Early the next morning, I rummage through my old suitcases. Clothes drift through the air, landing on my square-poster bed, the dusty fan, the ugly light shades, and the new mahogany dressers.
I ransack every box that I brought with me, growing more and more frustrated. “I know I brought this over,” I mumble to the silence.
Just as I’m about to give up, something tells me to go and look in the boxes of albums. Sure enough, I find my boxing gloves hidden beneath the leather-bound photographs.
My heart shifts when I hold the red gloves in my palm. With trembling fingers, I brush the dust from the knuckles and smile.
At that moment, a book slides off the pile that I just dumped on the carpet. The page opens to a picture of me and my dad.
My eyes catch on his smiling face. Dark skin. Salt-and-pepper hair. Eyes like black steel.
I haven’t spoken to him in ages.
Quickly, I snap the book closed.
That’s a step that I’m not ready for.
Not yet.
After setting the gloves away, I tidy the house, putting all the clothes back in their drawers and slipping the box of albums into the extra room.
A quick search of nearby boxing gyms reveals a place close by. I throw a loose shirt over my sports bra and yoga pants, grab my gloves and head outside.
The sun isn’t even up yet. Faint glows of dusk crawl past stubborn stars.
The neighborhood is still.
I chose this apartment because of that.
Noise, drama—I’ve had enough of it to last a lifetime.
The car ride feels like a new adventure.
Music feeds my excitement. My hands can’t stop tapping and dancing on the steering wheel.
I get to the big, boxy building and smile. Inside smells like sweat and citrus cleaner. The sound of velcro tearing and attaching sounds like home.
Deep breaths.
Hands loose at my sides.
The boxing ring greets me with a nod. The punching bags swing back and forth like church bells.
It’s been too long.
I take a step and the past latches onto me like tentacles. One minute, I’m here. I’m fully present. I’m in the moment. The next, I’m being sucked into a memory. Golden hair and ocean-blue eyes. A smile that swept me away with the merest tug of his lips. Hands gripping the ropes. Sweat dripping down strong forearms. A connection that sizzled without a single word spoken.
I shake my head. Forbid myself from going there.
This is my new lease on life. Today is a reclaiming of the Harriet I want to be. I’m not dragging Jerrison into this sacred place. Into this pocket of happiness that exists just for me. That’s been waiting for me.
Another shake of the head.
Another unsteady breath.
I blink and the memories are back. Eyes crinkled in amusement. Trash talk that was far too gentle to land. Long looks that whispered of a rising attraction. Lessons I gave after hours when I swore I’d never do that with anyone. Hands that pushed him to the ground in a maneuver that we both sank a little too deeply into.
He’s here. In my head. Everywhere I look.
Jerrison.
I can’t outrun him.
Was this a mistake? Has he claimed this part of me? Did he get to it before I could?
I’m afraid I can’t drag it out of his hands. Or maybe I’m just not ready yet. It’s only been a couple days since I left the house. Not enough time to grieve. To mourn. To process.
I’d let the high of living on my own, of stumbling on a new chapter, fool me into thinking I was over him. That I don’t need him. That I don’t love him.
But I was wrong.
He’s everywhere. Touching all the memories. Bringing the sweetest of times to light and burying the pain.
Come on, Harriet. Don’t forget the pain.
I turn around because I don’t trust myself.
My gloves slip to the edge of my fingers.
Suddenly, the doors open. Light floods the room and reveals the man stepping confidently into the gym.
It’s my husband.
