Respect Me, Part 1 by Nia Arthurs
Harriet
I’m dead inside,but no one would know.
Tubes, powders, and eye-shadow kits are scattered on my vanity dresser. I applied the makeup thickly. A shaking hand. Lines that had to be erased and redone. Lipstick covers the raw, exposed carcass of my heart. Perfume—five hundred dollars a bottle—absorbs the stench of puss. Blood. A soul that became roadkill.
The hanger swings back and forth when I grab my navy blazer. I shrug it over my elegant white blouse. Take a peek at my curves in designer jeans. The fabric hugs me in a way that demands admiration. Eyes that swing past steering wheels, bicycle handles, and cell phones. Whistles on the street. Rowdy construction workers. Ay, mami. I want some of that.
I’m no stranger to compliments. Men look at my body and they like what they see.
My husband too.
I woke this morning to brawny arms pulling me close. Blankets rustling. Knees pushing my legs apart. Hands snaked under a ratty T-shirt. Brown skin. A simple cotton bra. They reached for my chest. Fingers rubbing me awake as the world came alive. The evidence of my husband’s excitement prodded me in the back. Even half asleep, he was ready for me.
In the early days, I would have responded with evil smiles. Hungry hands. Lips that opened and swallowed. I would have rolled down his boxers. Climbed on top of him. Ridden the wave of unconsciousness until it grew into a tsunami of passion. He would have grabbed me and I would have giggled, kissed him, pushed myself open to the point of bursting.
But this morning, I pulled away.
My husband is a cheater.
I know.
I knew.
And I’m not okay.
The pain is too fresh. My anger is too intense.
I’ll fix this.
How?
The answer… is beyond me.
I don’t know where things went wrong. When they fell apart this badly.
I don’t know.
So I’m going to find someone who does. I’m going to put it all back where it belongs.
I jerk my eyes away from the mirror to the handsome man sleeping on the bed. Sunshine knocks on the window panes, peeking in hesitantly. Even in the shadows, Jerrison’s blond hair picks up the light and turns into a sharp, burnished gold. All of him is luminescent.
He turns on his stomach, one hand flung to my side of the bed. He’s reaching for me, but he doesn’t find me. Through the T-shirt, the muscles on his back jump and contract, a show of restlessness and masculinity. From the broad hands to the thick neck to the square jaw line, he’s all man. He’s all mine. That ring on his finger, the one he slips on and off like a light switch, says so.
I just need to find a way to remind him.
My fingers clench in frustration because I know it won’t be an easy task. A slight pain reminds me I still need to get to that splinter. I head to the bathroom and tear off the bandage. To my surprise, the splinter is glinting right at the top of my skin.
“It worked,” I murmur. A flash of gratitude floods my veins when I pick it out.
The pain that was so bad last night leaves not a scar behind.
Beautiful.
This is why I have to save our marriage. The pain I’m in, the agony, it’s temporary. Everyone goes through hard times. Deep inside, Jerrison is still the man who pledged to love me for the rest of my life. He’s still the man who thinks of no one but me. He’s just trapped inside a disgusting version.
The glimpses of him I saw last night in the bathroom—the tender care, the focus on me—those are real. The ‘us’ we used to be can resurface if I put in the effort.
I’m not going to give up.
The sun greets me with open arms when I tiptoe down the stairs and step outside. A gentle breeze plays with my hair, flinging it in front of my face. Birds chirp their encouragements. Cheer up, Harriet. It’s a new day.
A new day.
An opportunity to save my marriage.
I practice my smile on the way to Pax’s office. The rearview mirror grades me harshly. I adjust my grin. Lips tilted up at the corners. The eyes. I have to remember those. It’ll look forced if the eyes don’t crinkle. A little nose scrunch. More. More. There.
That’s a happy black woman.
That’s a woman with her heart intact.
That’s a woman at peace with herself and with her husband.
What a beautiful black woman. I wish I were her.
My heels clop against thick carpets as I walk down the hallway. Stop in front of Pax’s office. Adjust my blazer, shirt and pants.
I’m in control.
No one can know that my world has imploded. Has been imploding for years.
My fingers grab the knob and I push the door open.
The sight that greets me is scandalous.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” I whirl around, covering my eyes.
An embarrassed yelp screeches in the air before Pax says, “Harriet! I… just a… babe, get off. Harriet, um…” Clothes rustle. A loud zipper finds its way up again. “Okay. We’re good. You can come in.”
I spin slowly, taking in the sight of Pax McClane Fox—the youngest CEO of McClane Confectionaries—flaming with embarrassment.
My friend is an ambitious career woman who achieved an MBA while managing a successful product line. She’s graced the cover of business magazines and has been mentioned in the newspaper more times than I can count. She’s intelligent, business-oriented and blunt. But she’s total putty in her husband’s… ahem… expert hands.
“It was open,” I explain, jutting a thumb at the door.
“No, no. It’s our fault.” Pax slants her husband, Calvin Fox, a scolding look. Beneath her breath, she murmurs, “I told you it was open, babe.”
“Should have thought of that before you kissed me,” he answers with a roguish grin.
Calvin Fox has dark hair, dark eyes, and a naturally svelte air. He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t look like the ‘devoted husband’ type and yet, two seconds in his company and the first topic he’ll bring up is his wife.
“Well, this is a nice surprise.” The flush in Pax’s cheeks disappears slowly. She rounds her desk and sits. “Is this visit regarding business or pleasure, Harriet?” She pauses. Turns to Calvin. Wiggles a finger. “Don’t you dare make a joke right now or I will choke you.”
“You see how she threatens me, Harriet?” Calvin smirks.
I laugh out loud.
Pax’s husband walks to the door. “You ladies have a good one. Babe, call me when you’re done here. I’ll pick you up and take you to the factory.”
Pax nods.
“Actually, I wouldn’t mind hearing your opinion too, Calvin.” I fold myself into a couch and set my purse on the ground. “If you have the time.”
“What is it?” Calvin asks.
“It’s about Doc.” My shoulders push all the way back. “I asked Pax for his number weeks ago and she never got back to me.”
“I forgot,” Pax mumbles, chewing on her bottom lip.
“Yeah right.”
“Harriet, I’m sorry. Doc doesn’t meet with women.” Calvin folds his arms over his chest, giving me a thoughtful look. “It’s against his principles. He believes that the man is the foundation of the marriage and it’s his responsibility to fix anything that’s gone wrong.”
I wince because that particular line isn’t helpful to me right now. “But I’m the one who wants to fix it.”
Pax trains her eyes on the ground, fiddling her fingers like a doctor who’s about to tell his patient they’re terminally ill. “You’re right, Harriet. I should have given you Doc’s number. I just… didn’t want you to get your hopes up and be disappointed.”
“Who says I’ll be disappointed? You know how persistent I am.”
Calvin pats me on the shoulder. “It doesn’t matter how persistent you are. It’s not on you to change anything. It’s on him. A man has to want to fix the marriage for anything to get fixed.”
His words burn me and tears pop into my eyes. “You’re wrong.”
Pax frowns. “Harriet, I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s the truth.”
“I don’t freaking care.” Shooting to my feet, I stare at both of them. “Every night, I lie down next to a man who’s sleeping with other women. Who looks me in the eyes and lies to me. Who tramples on our marriage vows.” The heat of my fury burns my throat. “Every night, I feel like I’m descending into hell, but I know it can get better. He’s still my husband.” The way my voice shakes is embarrassing. I push through anyway. “Pax, you said Calvin was a playboy before he met Doc. You said Doc changed everything.”
“I did, but…” Her eyes skitter to the side.
“I’m not asking you to convince Doc for me. All I’m asking is that you give me a chance to talk to him myself.”
Calvin exchanges a look with Pax. They seem to have some kind of silent conversation. Finally, Calvin sighs. Shakes his head. Gestures it’s your decision.
Pax walks over and hugs me. “Alright, I’ll give you Doc’s number. Right here. Right now. ”
“Thank you.” My sigh trembles in the air.
“But,” Calvin steps toward me, his dark eyes somber, “I think you should work on your approach. You can’t ask Doc to help you fix your marriage outright. He’s going to ask to see your husband instead.”
“I can change his mind.”
“No, I’ve never seen him make an exception about that.”
“Doc is my last hope, Calvin.” I meet his eyes, determination rising in me. “Tell me what I have to do.”
