Never Knew Love Like This Before

  “What did you say?” Glenda asked, her voice squeaky and pinched-sounding.

  Gerri asked more than once or twice regarding Glenda’s hard to read expression but Glenda said nothing. Gerri just drove in silence to where Glenda’s car was parked at the office with the curiosity killing her.

  When Glenda’s cell phone rang and she glanced at the number but didn’t answer it, Gerri knew then what the doctor had told her privately was serious. Glenda was probably dying or something. It was going to be hard not to answer inquiring minds Monday with her own deductions on Glenda’s medical condition.

  “Glenda . . . will you call me?” Gerri asked her, leaning over the passenger seat.

  “Probably not Gerri,” Glenda said. “But thank you ever so much for getting me to the hospital. You are just the sweetest girl and truly, I thank you.”

  Gerri was shocked but tried to hide it. Glenda had never said such a thing to her. Yes, she must be dying.

  Chapter 3

  Glenda sat on the sofa, waiting. Simi had promised to be in by Friday evening and now it meant everything to her for him to keep his word. Even if he never did again, tonight he would have to come home. Minx had called her earlier but she couldn’t bring herself to even speak to her. She wasn’t in the mood to hear her rambling on and on about this, that, and the other thing. Minx could catch Glenda up in a conversation better than anyone could and so surely she would blurt out the truth to her before Simi and that just wouldn’t be right. Glenda was a nervous wreck, thinking, rehearsing, and planning how she would tell him he was going to be a father for the first time.

  Finally sighing heavily, breathing in deeply after what seemed to be hours she slapped her forehead and collapsed against the back of the sofa. Just then she heard the keys in the lock and sprung to attention.

  “Hey, you waited up.” Simi smiled weakly, closing the door behind him.

  “Of course Simi, you know I missed you,” Glenda said, while holding her hands folded in her lap, unconsciously covering her flat belly as if it was protruding and showing her condition. His face showed concern . . . maybe the hospital had called him. Simi, as was common, held out his arms for her to come embrace him, but Glenda hesitated. “Simi, we need to talk,” she began.

  Had Candy called? Simi thought. Had someone from the hotel gotten their signals crossed and maybe let the cat out of the bag?

  Guilt covered his face.

  “About what?” he asked, dropping his arms to his side and shifting uncomfortably before shoving his keys into his pocket.

  “Us, Simi,” Glenda said, standing now to fix him a drink. He was gonna need it.

  She handed him his regular, he gulped it down, surprising her just a little, but then again, maybe he felt the tension in the air. Glenda knew she needed to spit it out.

  “I got some news today . . . unexpected. And frankly, I’m not sure how to take it, but I do know that our marriage is forever changed,” she began.

  “Well, it needed to change . . . something needed to change,” Simi blurted.

  “What?”

  “Okay, so now you know,” he said.

  Glenda stared at him, looking deep in his eyes for clarification of his statement. “Yes and it wasn’t what I expected. I was shocked and—”

  “I figured you would be, but then . . . as you always say . . . life happens or some kinda thing like that you always say.”

  “Well that’s not what I say but . . . go on,” she said, allowing him to speak his mind first. Maybe the hospital had called him. That was all she could figure.

  “Life with you is dull, Glenda,” Simi said, leaning towards her face tauntingly. She could feel her eyes widening but said nothing. “And well, a man gets tired of so much predictability. I needed a change. I needed something more than what you were offering me.”

  “Okay,” she said, leaning back from his face. “I guess I didn’t realize you felt this way about us.”

  “I’ve felt this way for a really long time and well, Candy makes me feel alive.”

  “Candy . . . ?” Glenda asked, even more confused than before. “What are you talking about?”

  “My feelings Glenda . . . my feelings for once, I do have them, ya know. I’m not some robot. My life is not all planned out and—” Suddenly he threw the tumbler. It hit the plush carpet without breaking as was intended. They both stared at it for a second before Glenda picked it up and sat it on the coffee table.

  “That’s exactly what I mean Glenda, why can’t the damn glass stay on the floor, why can’t I just—”

  “Because it doesn’t go there,” she interrupted.

  “Glenda, I’m leaving you. I’m leaving you for another woman and you are too busy picking up a glass to even listen to me! That’s what I’m talking about! That’s what I’m saying!” he screamed. Glenda spun on her heels facing him now. Her heart was beating so hard she could swear it was in stereo. Her brain soared and her stomach tightened, yet her brain could not release the appropriate emotion.

  “Oh really?” was all she could ask. “So are you planning on getting another woman or have you already picked her out or . . .”

  “I’m having an affair, Glenda, with Caaaandyyyy,” he yelled some more, leaning forward again to make sure she heard him this time.

  The heat from his words scorched her face and she could swear her hair moved backwards, as the sound of his voice resonated through the large foyer where they stood. She was stunned and could not speak. Everything she knew to be real, honest, and true died without so much as a serious illness to explain it. All she felt was coolness growing inside her tempered only by the burning in the pit of her belly, a heat that suddenly got her attention—her baby . . . her baby, no longer their baby . . . that she decided immediately.

  “What do you have to say, Glenda . . . nothing, that’s what I thought. You see, you need time to plan it out; you can’t even be a woman and just speak from the heart. Everything is always so planned with you,” he taunted, sounding as if he’d already had a few drinks before getting home and was empowered by them.

  Feeling her eye twitching she stepped backwards instead of giving in to what she wanted to do. Slapping his face would be juvenile, right? Screaming and crying would be something Gerri would do. Cussing him out would be Minx. But Glenda would . . .

  She had no idea what Glenda would do and that was what was scaring her. “Simi, I think you should leave. Sleep on all this and get back to me tomorrow with your final say.” She sounded professional and knew that was a good start. Yes, keep it professional, Glenda, she told herself. No one can fault you if you keep it classy.

  “You want my final say Glenda . . . divorce. That’s my final say.” Simi stormed out but then suddenly burst back in. “I’ll come get my things tomorrow . . . that’s what I’ll do . . . so put that in your little planner.”

  The door slammed behind him.

  Chapter 4

  Simi had only been gone an hour but Glenda felt as though it had been weeks. She’d already emptied the closet of his clothing and the walls of his picture. It was all methodical and precise. Before this day, she’d done some thinking on what she would do if Simi died and since this incident felt pretty close to it she put those plans into action.

  She had told herself she wouldn’t grieve him when he died, that she would be strong, stoic, and brave. No tears or any of that whining and sniveling stuff. She would wear black for six weeks and hold her head high when people offered their condolences. “Yes, he was the love of my life,” she would say—when he died. But then, he would be dead—not like now. Now he was just gone—gone to be with another woman. A woman named . . . Candy at that. Was it the same thing?

  “Hell no!” she exploded, glancing at the clothes she’d so neatly spread out on the bed. His suits and shirts that she’d painstakingly picked out so that he would look stylish and tailored all the time. She had laid out her favorite of his suits, on the top—the burnt sienna–colored one. It always made him look so
sharp and handsome, with the copper shirt and matching tie that went with it.

  She felt the tie—rubbing it against the skin of her face. On the bedside table she then noticed her shears. She had them there to cut out articles of interest, but suddenly, she had a new use for them.

  The slivers of the tie fell to the floor, the shirts came next. Excitedly she then went through the dressers cutting up all his ties and underwear and T-shirts. She cut all the little alligators off each polo shirt, carefully staking the little gators in a pile, while sitting Indian style on the floor amidst all he owned—clothing-wise.

  No, Simi wasn’t dead, just gone, and she was disappointed at how much the whole situation was going to require some rethinking on how she was going to handle it.

  About that time the doorbell rang. She stopped what she was doing and went to answer it.

  “Girl, where have you been? Why aren’t you answering the phone?” Minx asked, poking her head in, looking around suspiciously. “Simi must be here.”

  Suddenly just hearing his name became all too much. Glenda burst into tears.

  “What is the matter? Tell me. Talk,” Minx said after fixing herself a stiff drink and sitting on the sofa next to Glenda, who with her feet pulled under had covered herself in the colorful afghan. She’d had a wonderful cry and now her eyes were puffy and nose stuffy. She blew it one more good time. “So, are you ready to speak English?” Minx requested, moving a strand of hair out of her eyes and draining her tumbler.

  “Simi left.”

  “Simi leaves all the time, what suddenly is the problem?”

  “No,” Glenda sniffed, shaking her head. “He’s having an affair and he left to be with her. Candy,” Glenda said with a sneer that caused bitter secretions to come into her mouth and her face to twist up.

  “Girl, shut up!” Minx exploded, finally getting the full understanding of Glenda’s words. Minx realized that apparently Glenda had been trying to say this a few times but between the sobs she was just too hard to understand. But now . . . now Minx got it. Weaving in the shock she turned up her empty tumbler hoping for one more drop.

  Glenda nodded. “I was going to tell him about the baby but before I could even tell him, he told me that . . . that.” Glenda frowned and growled, unable to formulate any civil thoughts. “Cannndeee,” she growled again. “He just got all in my face and . . .” Glenda’s face twisted with the memory.

  “What baby?” Minx then asked, finally hearing that too. She was stunned and looked at the glass and then at the bar, willing the two to come together without her having to move.

  The silence between them got thick so Minx took advantage of it to slide finally off the sofa and pour herself another stiff one, gulping while still at the bar. She then turned to Glenda on the sofa. “You were going to tell Simi what?” she gasped, half from the burn of the liquor, half out of shock. Glenda just stared at her. “You want one?” Minx finally asked her, sounding odd and the question, out of time with the situation. Glenda just shook her head.

  “I can’t,” Glenda said.

  “Of course not, you’re preg . . . Glenda, what in the hell are you talking about . . . a baby?”

  Glenda threw back the covers and ran toward the bedroom where she had her purse. Inside was the confirmation of her pregnancy. Minx followed but stopped abruptly at the sight of Simi’s clothes in shreds all over the floor. “Oh girl, you have lost your devilish mind up in here. What the hell?” she asked, picking up the slivers of his ties and other pieces of silks and fine fabrics. “New craft project?” she asked.

  Suddenly Glenda broke into laughter.

  Chapter 5

  Morning found the two women sprawled out over Glenda’s California King.

  By the time Glenda finished telling Minx all she knew to tell about Simi’s affair, which wasn’t much, Minx was tipsy, so by the time they got to the real issue at hand . . . the baby, Minx was almost sloshed to the wide. Giggling and laughing about the whole thing like a high schooler, she spoke with confidence on how they together were going to raise this baby.

  “Now, never having been a parent myself, I’m not too sure about all this but I think if we put our heads together,” Minx began, slurring slightly.

  “Once you get sober,” Glenda assured her, while shoving the last of Simi’s clothes in the large garbage bag.

  “Exactly!” Minx agreed. “But see, I was drinking for two,” she giggled.

  “You are one crazy heffa.”

  “Glenda, how in the world did this happen . . . when?”

  “I don’t know?”

  “Girl you getting it like that? Damnnnn gwon wit cho bad self,” Minx teased. Glenda for a second realized what she had implied about her and Simi’s sex life. Yes, it was good . . . before. Now it was over.

  “Please, I can’t even think about that. I’ve got so much else to think about,” Glenda voiced her thoughts.

  “Tell me about it,” Minx said, pulling the comforter over her when she rolled on her side. “We’re gonna be way past busy,” she went on as if thinking clearly.

  “I’ve never been alone before. I’ve always had Simi. I’m sure I’ll be just fine but still. I’ve never been . . .” Glenda looked over at Minx who was drifting into some ugly sleep. Her mouth dropped open and a snore cried out. “Alone,” Glenda said, with a sigh following her words.

  Was Minx her support group?

  “What am I going to do?” she asked herself.

  Glenda felt hungover herself when the doorbell woke her up. One eye glanced at the clock—six A.M.

  “Why is someone at my door at six A.M. on a Saturday,” she asked out loud, knowing the answer. She jogged with her nephew Glen on Saturday mornings. It was something they did, rain or shine.

  “Somebody is at your door,” Minx groaned, rolling over, pulling the comforter over her head when Glenda dragged out of the bed to go answer the door.

  “What is wrong with you? You sick?” Glen asked with concern showing on his face. He had rung the doorbell several times and was knocking by the time she reached the door and now he was eyeing her tussled clothing.

  Glen was her namesake, her nephew, who truly held her heartstrings, having been abandoned by his teenage mother and left for his father to raise. Glenda’s brother—Glen’s father—in turn, married one irresponsible woman after another, leaving Glen with the need of a mother figure in his life, to which she and Minx—Minx, ever so reluctantly—filled the bill, as best they could, considering neither of them had children.

  He ducked his head in and looked around, “Simi here?”

  Normally she was decked out in a bright jogging ensemble and matching running shoes. “Glen, I’m so sorry, but I had such a rough night,” she said with a sigh this morning, realizing how she must look, having slept in her work clothes.

  “Where is Simi, what’s wrong?” he asked again. Suddenly he noticed Minx coming from Glenda’s bedroom instead of the guest room, where she usually stayed when visiting over the weekend. Minx headed to the kitchen and filled a wineglass with a red liquid that looked like Sauvignon maybe. Glen grew immediately irritated. He had mixed feelings about Minx, although she’d been in his life most of his life. Where she exactly fit, he was never sure. Sometimes he felt like he hated her and yet other times he felt . . .

  “You drinking already today?” he asked rudely. Minx just flashed him a tight sarcastic smile.

  “Yeah, holy woman that I am, I’ve managed to turn this cranberry juice into wine.”

  “Nothing is wrong,” Glenda answered his question, trying to keep his focus. Glen too was easily distracted. Between him and Minx she often felt as if speaking to herself when talking to them. She was about to explain but suddenly a handsome young man joined Glen on the porch. Glen didn’t bother to introduce him.

  “Holy, I think not,” he called out to Minx, who was on her way back in the bedroom but stopped when hearing his comment. “Why do you look a mess?” he then asked Glenda, giving her another side gl
ance on his way into the house to start an argument or continue one with Minx, who stood ready for whatever, with her hand on her hip.

  “She doesn’t look a mess. She’s positively glowing,” Glen’s friend said, pulling Glenda’s attention to him. His eyes were rich with all the colors of the earth, browns, gold, and shades of sage, dancing and alive, filled with the passion of youth.

  “Glowing?” Glen asked, overhearing him yet continuing to where Minx was, taking her glass from her and giving it a sniff.

  “Boy, get your face out my . . .” Minx fussed.

  “How many months are you?” the young man asked Glenda, who nearly gasped. “Oh, my name is Tim, how rude of me.”

  “Somebody needs to police your actions,” Glen fussed on from inside the house, taking a sip from Minx’s glass.

  “How did you know?” Glenda asked Tim, her voice just about a whisper.

  “Your eyes drew me in but while there I saw something. . . .” he reached up and touched the side of her face by her eyes. It was almost a stroke of his hand down her cheek but not quite. “. . . right here. I’m studying the eyes. Have you ever heard of iridology?”

  “Iridology?” Glenda asked, now coming under the spell of his gaze, no longer hearing Glen and Minx going at it.

  “It’s the alternative study of one’s health through reading the eyes,” he said. His voice was low and deep . . . affecting. Glenda had to nearly shake her head to break the trance he was putting her under.

  “You said it, not me, Minx the cat!” Glen sounded off, catching everyone’s attention finally.

  “You two stop it,” Glenda said, smiling all the while. Glen and Minx always went at it like this. She had to wonder why there was always so much tension between them.

  “Are we running or not?” Glen asked as if his attention had never been diverted from what he originally came to ask.