Happily Ever Now

by Nicole S. Rouse

Genres: General Fiction; African American; African American Christian

Synopsis

Renee Thomas's seeming perfect life is shattered when she discovers that her husband is having an affair, and she must rely on her faith in God to get her through this tough time. Original.

Release date: September 1, 2007

Publisher: Urban

Print pages: 352

Sample

Renee shut the door to her personal bathroom and took a deep breath. Slowly, she closed her eyes and counted to ten. Still quiet. Opening her eyes, she immediately noticed a hand towel out of place. No matter how many times she told the boys to stay out of her private room, they always found a way to invade her space. Renee walked over to the towel and fixed someone’s feeble attempt at folding. Carefully, she removed the towel, then folded it the way a fancy hand towel was meant to be displayed. Now calm and relaxed, Renee was pleased until she noticed a faint black hand print covering the flower embroidery. The print was too large to be one of the boys. This time, the guilty party had to be Jerome, her husband of seventeen years. Renee didn’t have the energy to yell. She just crumpled the towel and threw it in the hamper.

Now slightly annoyed, she took off her blouse and sat on the edge of the bathtub. Why she let something as simple as a dirty towel upset her, she didn’t know. What did she really expect living in a house full of boys? Lately, little things like that were getting on her nerves. She turned the knob and watched the water fill the tub.

As the water adjusted to a soothing temperature, Renee looked into the full-length mirror behind the bathroom door, a gift Jerome installed for Mother’s Day. He was sure he and the boys had finally thought of a gift Renee would like. Evaluating the excess body fat hanging over her belt, she was reminded of her husband’s lack of thoughtfulness. How many women over the age of thirty actually want to see their layers of fat each and every time they got out of the shower? Renee’s eyes left her mid-section and focused on her facial features. There was a time when her face was full of life and expression. Her eyes used to sparkle and a permanent smile used to dominate her face. The image that stared back at her today showed very little signs of life.

Her creamy tone and flawless skin that used to turn heads of many men seemed different now. There were wrinkles in her forehead; one for every year Jerome struggled with alcohol, and small bags forming under her eyes. The bags were compliments of late work hours and being a personal taxi for her children. She forced a close-mouthed smile. The mole above the left side of her lip used to be sexy. Today it reminded her of an old maid. Though still in her early thirties, Renee was beginning to look and feel old; one of the reasons why she spent more money than she should on expensive clothes and accessories.

Steam from the running water covered the mirror and Renee tried to remember the last time she felt happy about life. She couldn’t even remember the last time she and Jerome had laughed together. Renee inhaled deeply and took off the rest of her clothes. Memories of the “good ole days” seemed so far out of reach.

Under the sink, an assortment of bath oils overflowed a medium-sized wooden basket; a much appreciated gift from her mother. She fingered through the bottles and chose oatmeal and lavender. With the water at a suitable level, Renee dropped a few oil beads in the bathtub then turned the knob to off. She could hear the boys downstairs talking in raised voices but ignored them. Jerome was home and could handle whatever was going on, she thought. She lit a few candles and then reached for a comb next to the basin. Maybe doing something different with her hair would change the way she felt.

It had been almost two years since her last haircut. Minus a few split ends, Renee felt her hair was strong and healthy, but she wanted a change. She needed a change. Pulling her hair back into a ponytail, Renee frowned. Too drastic! The roundness of her head made her look even heavier. She let the ponytail fall then lifted her hair to her cheek line. Still, not satisfied. Close to giving up, Renee glanced at her magazine basket. Halle Berry was on the cover of the latest Glamour issue. Halle’s long and wavy tresses intrigued her.

“I may not be as skinny as Halle,” Renee said to herself as she looked in the mirror, “but curly hair may be what I need.” She made a mental note to schedule an appointment at the salon then put on her shower cap. Just as she lifted her leg to settle in the bathtub, there was a bang on the door.

“Ma, Reggie won’t let me watch Sponge Bob!”

Renee rolled her eyes, grabbed her favorite terry cloth robe, and wrapped it around her before snatching the door open. Jerome Jr., her seven-year-old son, stood still, forcing tears to flow from his eyes and mumbled about not being treated fairly. Renee tried to be careful when handling him. Her husband claimed she played favorites and was turning their youngest into a momma’s boy. She couldn’t help herself most times. Jerome Jr. looked so much like her—same pie-shaped face, button nose, and deep dimples. Although he looked like Renee’s twin, his butterscotch tone was a mixture of her French vanilla and Jerome’s caramel complexions.

Letting out an enormous sigh, Renee walked to the stairs, “Reggie, you know it’s his time to watch television. You have the TV at eight o’clock.”

She could hear her oldest son suck his teeth and complain. Unlike Jerome Jr., Reggie was her complete opposite. He had long legs and a high, round butt like his father. At fourteen, she prayed Reggie still had some years to grow a longer torso. She didn’t want him to look as ridiculous as his father.

“See, Mommy, he never lets me watch what I want. It’s my turn, Reggie!” This time a few real tears actually escaped Jerome Jr.’s eyes.

Renee let out another sigh and raised her voice. “Reggie, turn the channel!”

“Mom, he’s been playing with his Game Boy. He’s not even watching TV,” Reggie snapped.

“I am too watching TV. You just want to watch them videos. I don’t want to watch that,” Jerome pouted.

“You’re a big baby,” Reggie bounced back.

Renee interjected before a shouting match started. “Okay, that’s enough. I’m trying to take a bath.” She walked down the steps and looked around the room, then toward the basement door, becoming upset when she noticed that the basement light was off. “Where’s you’re father?” It was 7:00 PM on a Wednesday night. Where did he have to go without telling her?

“He went to the store,” responded Reggie, knowing what was about to follow.

Renee’s tone escalated to a higher octave. “He went to what store?” Both boys studied the floor, knowing any answer they gave would upset their mother. “I’m sick of this! He’s never here to control you two. I have to do everything around here!” Renee yelled to the air. She noticed Reggie’s jacket hanging from the stair railing and grabbed it. “And, I’m sick of this bickering! There are five televisions in this house and you mean to tell me neither of you can find one to watch?”

“The ones in our rooms don’t have cable,” Jerome Jr. replied harmlessly. “I can’t watch Nickelodeon.”

“Too bad!” Renee said, then came up with a solution. “Reggie, you’re father isn’t here. Go watch the one in the basement.”

“He gets on my nerves! He always gets his way,” Reggie sulked. “I don’t like sitting in the basement. It smells!”

Losing her cool, Renee threw the jacket toward Reggie. “Go hang this up. I keep telling you and your father that I’m not your personal maid.” She started walking back up the stairs. “If I have to come down here again, I’m gonna whip your tail and send you to bed early. You either go in the basement or wait until eight o’clock! Do you understand me?” Renee didn’t wait for an answer. There was a warm bath calling her name.

Reggie threw the remote and hit Jerome Jr. in the arm. He began to wail. Reggie laughed at his younger brother. “You big brat. That didn’t even hurt.”

“Reggie, get in the basement! And Jerome, stop whining before I really give you something to cry about!” she shouted from the top of the stairs.

Reggie moved from the sofa and stomped his way to the basement, dropping his jacket on the back of a chair in the dining room along the way. As Renee approached her bathroom, she screamed at the top of her lungs, “And, for the twentieth time this week, stay out of my bathroom!” She slammed the door and sat on the toilet with her head in her hands. She was too angry to cry this time.

At thirty-four, she was beginning to regret marrying so young. If only she had listened to her mother, maybe her life would be different. But, when you’re eighteen, your mother’s wisdom doesn’t count.

In high school, Renee was confident Jerome was “the one.” Holding tight to her religious upbringing, Jerome was the only boy who didn’t pressure her into sex. He was willing to wait for marriage. Although Jerome hadn’t been a faithful member of any church, Renee still believed this was a sign. Thinking back on those days, she grew angry. How could God let her walk into a marriage obviously doomed from the start?

She stood up and pressed the power button on the radio stationed in the windowsill. A song from Chante Moore’s debut album was playing. Still standing, Renee closed her eyes and let Chante’s smooth and soprano-pitched voice relax her for a moment. As Chante crooned about a troubled relationship, she wondered if her life would’ve been different if she’d never met Jerome. When the song ended, she walked to the tub and let her robe fall to the floor. She tested the water with the tip of her right toe. It was still warm. As she stepped in, one tear rolled down her cheek and she wondered if she would ever be happy again.

Sweaty and out of breath, Jerome lay flat on Taylor’s bed. “Dang, baby. Why you do this to me every time?”

Taylor pretended to be naïve. “Do what?”

Drained, Jerome pulled Taylor closer and wrapped his arms around her. “Put that thang on me, that’s what.”

Taylor was nestled on his chest about to respond, but the sound of faint snores silenced her. She lifted her head slightly and kept her eyes open long enough to get a glimpse of the clock on her nightstand. 12:22 AM. Mission accomplished.

As Taylor listened to Jerome’s heavy breathing she smiled. Finally, after two years, Taylor knew she had him. This was the first time Jerome stayed past midnight. For her, this was a sign that they were one step closer to making their relationship official. All Jerome had to do now was divorce his wife.

The right timing was crucial. Taylor knew that. Jerome wanted to wait until his youngest son was old enough to understand divorce. If Taylor was ever going to have a positive relationship with her future step children, she had to play her cards right. She didn’t want them to view her as the enemy. Still, being patient wasn’t easy.

Throughout their affair, Taylor worried about Jerome’s true intentions. She was taking a big risk. Being involved with a married man usually didn’t have a happy ending. Tonight, Jerome’s presence next to her comforted those thoughts. Building their relationship had been a slow and gradual process, but she had a feeling that after tonight their relationship was going to soar.

Two hours later, Taylor felt Jerome leave the bed. He quietly made his way to the bathroom across the hall. His release was longer than usual and steady. Not the rapid squirts that left splashes of urine around the rim of the toilet bowl. Out of respect for Taylor being asleep, he never flushed when he was finished. At least that’s what he would tell her time and time again. But she knew better. By not flushing and possibly waking up Taylor, Jerome could easily leave her apartment without looking into her eyes to say good-bye and feeling guilty.

Taylor listened as Jerome turned the faucet on a low pressure to wash his hands. When he finally walked back into the bedroom, Taylor prayed he’d get back into the bed, but he didn’t. She lowered the sheet that was covering her just enough to see Jerome putting on his jeans. A wave of sadness moved through her and she sat up, covering her body with the sheet.

“Baby, I don’t think I can handle this much longer,” she whimpered, determined to make him stay. She needed just this once to feel first in his life. “I mean, you are supposed to be my man, and my man should be with me.”

Jerome continued dressing. “Taylor, you know I have a responsibility to my kids.”

“To your kids or their mama?” she asked sarcastically, knowing this would set him off, but tonight she didn’t care. She was tired of sparing his feelings.

Jerome stopped buttoning his shirt. Taylor could see the fire in his eyes, though he remained calm as he spoke. “Must you ruin a perfectly pleasant night?”

She was trying to fight back the tears, but frustration had already taken its course. She left the bed, still loosely wrapped inside the sheet, to join him. She was crying now and begging him to stay. Unmoved, Jerome fastened his belt. This frustrated Taylor even more.

She grabbed his arm, forcing him to acknowledge her presence. “I just don’t understand why she has to stay in the house, or why you can’t . . .”

The sheet fell, exposing Taylor’s naked body and Jerome pulled away with authority. “I worked hard to get that house and I’m not about to kick my kids’ mother out on the street!” He grabbed his watch off the nightstand and walked out of the bedroom.

Taylor didn’t want to believe he was leaving. She put on her robe that was hanging on the door and chased after him. He was standing in front of the mirror in the living room brushing the tight curls on his head when she caught up with him. Taylor threw her arms completely around his waist, hoping he would stop, but Jerome kept moving, dragging Taylor’s tightly-toned, two hundred pound body along with him. “Jerome, baby, I’m trying to understand. But, how long do you expect me to accept this?”

Jerome reached for his leather jacket hanging from the dining room chair and placed his brush in the inside pocket. “Taylor, please! We go through this every time.” He used his entire body to free Taylor from his waist. “I’m not going to keep explaining myself. If you can’t wait for things to change . . .”

Taylor knew she couldn’t stop what was coming, but tried anyway. She had already humiliated herself. What else was there to lose?

She moved in closer, believing a deep and passionate kiss would help Jerome see how much she needed him. Only Jerome was tired of this routine. He held his arms out, placing his hands in her chest. He looked Taylor in the eye, trying to mask any feeling he had for her. “If you can’t handle this anymore, maybe we shouldn’t be together.”

Paralyzed by his words, Taylor realized she was defeated. She wiped the tears from her eyes and turned away. “Then lock the door behind you,” she said, and walked back to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Renee’s eyes automatically opened when she heard the front door close. She quickly checked the time. Jerome had never come home this late before. He must have been with a woman, she thought. In a situation where most wives would be angry and find themselves ripping the house apart in search of evidence, Renee was relieved. She was tired of dealing with his drunken escapades and lies. It was time for someone else to take over.

Safely inside the house, Jerome crept up the stairs and down the long hallway into their bedroom. Renee remained still, ignoring the obvious creaks in the floor. Any slight movement on her part would trigger the start of a conversation. He would feel compelled to tell some outlandish story about his whereabouts, and they would end up arguing. Renee didn’t feel like hearing his nonsense this early in the morning, especially when her alarm clock would be going off in less than two hours.

Jerome took off all his clothes and slid under the covers. He attempted to place his arm around Renee’s waist. She cringed at his touch. Her womanly instincts told her that he had been with another woman. Jerome didn’t smell like a brewery tonight. His scent was soft, almost sweet. The thought of Jerome being with another woman, then coming home to her at 3:17 in the morning wanting to make love, infuriated her. Why couldn’t he just lie on his side of the bed and keep to himself? They had a king size bed. There was plenty of room for separation.

Jerome reached for her with more aggressiveness. “C’mon baby, I just want to hold you.”

Go hold your late night strumpet, she wanted to yell, but that would indicate that she cared. And, she really didn’t care. At least not tonight. Renee turned from her side and laid on her stomach. “I’m asleep, Jerome,” she mumbled in a groggy voice. “Leave me alone.” Jerome received her response as an invitation to move in closer. “You’ve got to be kidding,” Renee said under her breath, feeling the hot air from his nose warming her neck. With every ounce of strength in her body, she wiggled her way from under his arm. “It’s too early in the morning for this, Jerome. Just go to sleep.”

“Aw, baby. It’s been months since we’ve been together. I want to show you how much I love you,” he moaned, tugging at her nightgown.

Renee wanted to throw up. She twisted and pushed her knee into Jerome’s midsection. The hint that she didn’t want to be bothered wasn’t strong enough. He was still trying to cuddle. Renee tried again, this time using her entire foot to kick him. He flew off the bed, landing hard on his side and injuring his foot against the wheel of the bed frame.

“Ouch!” Jerome shouted, rubbing his arm. “Is this any way to treat your husband?” Renee was silent as he rose to his feet. “One day you’ll be begging me to make love to you.” He snatched a pillow from their bed and limped to the other side of the room. Muttering to himself, Jerome pulled out an old pair of sweats from his dresser. He turned abruptly and hit his funny bone on the edge of the dresser. Wincing in pain, he gave his wife a pitiful look. She tried to control her laughter as she buried her face deeper under the covers. In disbelief, Jerome stood still, rubbing his elbow in a circular motion. Slowly, he put on his sweatpants and walked out the room. As the sound of his footsteps faded into the distance, Renee smiled.

Despite her husband’s early morning episode, Renee was dressed and cooking breakfast at her regular time of 7:15 AM. Reggie and Jerome Jr. were sitting at the table, dressed but still half asleep.

“Mommy, I wanted some bacon,” Jerome Jr. whined.

“We’re not having bacon. Your father forgot to bring some home yesterday when he went to the store.” Renee removed the turkey sausage from the pan and placed two links on each of their plates. “Reggie, pour some orange juice in the cups for me, please.” She turned the fire that was warming the grits off then checked the biscuits in the oven. “Just a few more minutes.” When she turned around, Reggie’s eyes were glued to the television set. She lightly smacked the top of his head. “Didn’t I ask you to pour the juice?”

“Ouch! That hurt,” Reggie grumbled, then pried himself from the chair and did as he was told. He opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of orange juice. Without thinking, he removed the cap and tossed it on the counter. He poured juice into the first cup successfully, but when he went to pour the second cup, the carton got away from him and orange juice sailed across the kitchen floor. Renee hit the side of the stove and closed her eyes.

“Oooo! You’re in trouble,” teased Jerome Jr.

“Shut up!” Reggie replied.

“Don’t talk to your brother like that! Now run and get the mop.” Renee grabbed a roll of paper towels from the counter and rolled it along the trail of juice. “And, hurry up! You’re going to make us late!”

Reggie hurried back, dragging the mop behind him and immediately started to wipe away the pool of liquid.

“Wait a minute, Reggie!” Renee said, holding her hand up to her son. “Let me get up the paper towels first. Junior, help us out. Bring the trash can over here. And watch your step!”

“You really made a big mess,” Jerome Jr. said, tipping around the kitchen floor.

“If you weren’t so busy watching TV, you wouldn’t have missed the cup,” Renee snapped, gathering the paper towels and rolling them into one huge ball. She threw the mound of soggy paper towels in the trash and stepped to the side.

“But I wasn’t watching TV. The carton was too heavy.”

“You were too watching TV. I saw your eyes on the screen,” Jerome Jr. instigated.

“How could my eyes be on the screen?” Reggie asked, making his brother feel childish.

“Don’t start you two! Reggie, wet the mop and wash the floor real good. I don’t want sticky spots left anywhere.” Renee placed Jerome Jr.’s plate on the table and leaned against the counter. “Start eating so we won’t be late.”

“Where’s my biscuit?” asked Jerome Jr.

“Boy, eat what’s on your plate. I’ll get your biscuit in a minute,” she said, taking a spoonful of lukewarm grits out the pot and stuffing it inside her mouth.

Renee watched Reggie as she ate her breakfast standing up, making sure he mopped the floor to her expectations. When he was finished, she served him breakfast. “Next time sweetheart, pay attention to what you’re doing. Okay?”

“Yes,” Reggie said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Mistakes happen. Renee knew that, but Reggie had been making too many mistakes lately. If she didn’t assert some kind of authority, he would be a lot worse. Reggie was a teenager now and had to learn to be more attentive and responsible. Rubbing his shoulders, Renee sat in the chair next to him. “We have about five minutes before we have to leave, so eat up.”

Muffled noises from the basement caught Renee’s attention. She heard the footsteps coming up the stairs before the boys did and could feel her body tense up. When Jerome reached the top stair, he stopped in the doorway and yawned. Renee frowned at the sight of him. He looked a mess and in need of a good shave. Losing fifty pounds wouldn’t hurt him either. There was a time. . .