Читать книгу Keeper of My Soul - Keshia Dawn - Страница 12

He stood in one place the majority of the night while his wife made rounds kissing up and making herself seen throughout the party. If there was one thing he was tired of, it was being an arm piece, escort, and a friend with benefits.

Keithe was mad at himself, again, for even considering chaperoning his wife at another one of her shindigs that didn’t do anything for him. For the ten times he’d go out on the town with her, she would accompany him to church only once. But still he tried to be the decent and caring husband.

Although they were in the same profession, Keithe couldn’t care less about being on the social scene. Being a lawyer was all he had ever wanted to be ever since he could remember. It wasn’t for the high-profile cases that often landed on his desk, nor the television spotlights he became a frequent guest on, but it was for what he could do for people: help them. Unlike his wife, who was, had been, and always would be about herself, Keithe was a sincere individual, whereas Michelle was downright selfish.

It had only been two weeks since he and Michelle had made up for the umpteenth time. Or rather, she had promised, sworn, and loved on him in order for him to forget her latest fiasco. But he had. Now he wished he hadn’t.

The rumor he’d been hearing about her having yet another affair, with a judge in the same downtown building, stuck in his stomach as he had eaten lunch one day in a local deli. Just hearing her name released in a paralegal’s conversation was sickening enough. Listening further about her being connected with someone she had said was like a son left Keithe hardly able to swallow what he had in his mouth. Throwing the remainder of his lunch away, Keithe decided to leave before more details were shared.

Never in his wildest dreams did he think loving a woman fifteen years his senior would leave him with as much of a headache, and heartache, as a teenager being dumped a week before prom. Still, Keithe tried. Even up until the very moment when all he wanted to do was leave.

After Keithe closed his eyes for a brief moment, let out a breath, and prayed, “Lord, give me the strength,” he set his Cherry Coke on the nearest table and made his way to his wife. Standing in the middle of two men who seemed to be hanging on to Michelle’s every word, she didn’t realize Keithe was in her presence until they made eye contact.

“It’s about time we head out, Michelle. It’s almost midnight and Sunday school will be here before you know it.” he slightly touched her elbow, hoping she would excuse herself from the disrespectful hounds. He really couldn’t blame them, though, with the beauty his middle-aged wife possessed. Like most people, he wouldn’t be surprised at all if they didn’t even know Michelle was married. Sorta like the whole R. Kelly divorce. Married? who knew?

With the muscles relaxed in her face, the naughty-by-nature, middle-aged woman shot Keithe a ferocious glare. “I’m not ready, dear.” Twirling around, allowing her husband to continue his chat with her backside, Michelle stuffed her sparkling clutch under her opposite arm while trying to pull up her strapless, sequined dress. Not spilling an ounce of her liquor of choice, Michelle downed a shot, threw her head back, and pretended to talk about her profession.

“But we already made plans for church, Michelle.” he closed in to her ear. Figuring he would have to pull out all the stops before she did, Keithe switched to her other two-carat-filled ear and whispered, “Remember the deal. Church.” all he received in return was a hard and stale huff.

He figured Michelle felt empowered since she had been in the driver’s seat for the night. Soon enough, if she didn’t follow his lead, she’d see just how much he really cared.

For the last ten years Michelle had been acting more on a mother level than his wife. The respect that was missing from her as his spouse was worrying his own forty-year-old psyche, making his graying specks more evident, which resulted in his cutting his mane. Loving Michelle was breaking his heart and that too was becoming more noticeable.

At age twenty-five, Keithe had thought the world of Michelle when he first laid eyes on her as she spoke at one of his law school lectures. From the day at brunch when Keithe was brave enough to ask her out, he had been a wide-nosed, eager, and young graduating law student, believing the dreams Michelle had spoken to him.

After a few months of courting and her wining and dining him, Keithe believed Michelle really cared for him. When she started speaking about the circles she could involve him in, the more he fell for her. No doubt at all, if it weren’t for Michelle pulling strings for him, he wouldn’t be where he was career wise.

Just as Michelle snatched her elbow away, Keithe silently counted backward from ten and walked away. The last thing he wanted was a scene, which for Michelle was always a great drunken adventure.

“That’s it,” Keithe mumbled under tightened lips. Hard steps led him toward the exit. Only once did he stop, and that was when he arrived in front of the valet’s booth. Standing and waiting, Keithe silently scolded himself about not hiring a driver for the evening. He hadn’t partially because Michelle had begged him to just let her drive them.

For the last five years, he’d been under a doctor’s order: no driving. His stressful marriage and career had taken a toll on his body, producing violent grand mal seizures that came out of left field. Tonight he didn’t care. It would just be the chance he’d have to take.

When he turned around to kill time, still waiting for Michelle’s Jaguar to arrive, he caught his sour reflection in the glassed pane.

Decked out in his owned, never rented, tuxedo, Keithe couldn’t understand what it was about him that wasn’t enough for Michelle. Beyond being a dark chocolate kind of handsome, and having deep, chiseled eyes that were only for her, Keithe was a respectful and loving husband. Head over heels in love with Michelle, Keithe had never wanted to stray as she had. He’d never wanted to make her hurt as she had made him time and time again. Even when Keithe wanted children and knew that being a father was a blessing beyond compare but she didn’t, he still loved her through it all.

God-fearing, a praying man who seemed to be what all the women on the talk shows said they wanted was exactly what Keithe was. Sunday after Sunday, sitting as a deacon in the front pew, he had to fight off women and their advances. Anywhere he went, for that matter. Even at a gathering at his wife’s expense.

“Hope you’re having a good evening,” Chasity, the young, white court reporter who worked out of Michelle’s courtroom, spoke toward his reflection, then to him. “Are you leaving? Is the judge on her way down?” she checked to see if she had a few moments to push up on him, as she frequently did.

“Yes, I’m leaving.” he took a step forward to add space between the two. Peering around her as she took the same amount of steps he did, still looking out for the judge, Chasity wasn’t giving up that easily.

With a quick look down at her plummeting bust line, Chasity spoke to Keithe, hoping that he caught her drift. “Hmm. Well, I’m waiting for a cab, but if the judge is not going with you, maybe I can catch a quick ride. If you know what I mean.” her eyes told her truth.

Squeezing his own eyes shut, Keithe, for a brief moment, thought what it would be like to actually take Chasity up on her offer. Or any woman who had called, texted, or boldly walked up to him, offering her services. Shaking his thoughts clear, Keithe believed, “As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.”

Taking the key from the valet driver, Keithe added another tip to the driver on top of the one he’d given when he and Michelle first arrived. Without so much as a slight glance, Keithe got into the leather-interior car and sped toward his home.

On the ride away from the live and bright downtown Houston’s nightlife, a world he didn’t care to be a part of, Keithe wondered why he still cared. Better yet, why he still tried. His wife wasn’t a team player, and she definitely wasn’t planning on switching her Patrón for Communion anytime soon. But then again, he knew this, and if he were being honest with himself, he had known it from their very beginning.

At age twenty-five, when he married the then forty-year-old Michelle, he had been on the same level as she had. He partied, tossed them back, and hung out late with her. But through it all he still made it to church service; he still made time for the Lord. Then it didn’t matter that she had stayed home from church and never made promises to attend. But now he was forty and more than just saved. He had a relationship with God and wanted to share that experience with his wife. Something that Michelle obviously wasn’t trying to do.

Pulling to the back of their gorgeously landscaped stucco house with a four-car garage in the rear, Keithe shut off the engine and just sat. “Thank you for the ride home, Jesus.” he openly thanked God for allowing him to make it home safely. “Jesus, take the wheel.” he just couldn’t help but do the reenactment of the very funny Mr. Brown from Tyler Perry’s movies. “Oowee.” he stretched to get out of the driver’s side.

He already knew the devil’s hell Michelle would bring when she got home, and almost opted to undo his bow tie and sleep in the car. The thought of them arguing almost made him crank the car once more and go to the nearest five-star hotel. Instead, he thought about all the hard work he did on a daily basis to try to make his marriage work. He knew he had as much right to their bed as she did. Her ignorance would just have to go ignored as far as he was concerned.

As soon as he made his way into their abode with the lofty ceiling, Keithe did exactly as he felt. Instead of doing what Michelle would have recommended, taking clothes off in the bedroom only, Keithe undressed as he made his way through the winding house. Shoes here, pants there, shirt elsewhere. When it was all said and done, Keithe only had his socks on to show evidence of his no longer caring what Michelle thought.

By the time his head hit his favorite pillow, the only rhythm in the marriage bed was that of his pounding headache. The BC powder, a crushed aspirin concoction, was the only thing that helped him doze to sleep. Twelve-thirty was the time the loyal and dependable husband fell asleep. Without any sound of an alarm, two twenty-eight in the morning was the time he awoke to his wife’s drunken stupor.

“How dare you! how dare you leave me. In my own car! Do you know how humiliating that was for me?” Michelle barged into their master suite and turned on every light within her reach.

Her energy level never letting up, she raced around to where Keithe had been in deep sleep and snatched the 1000-thread-count sheet from his body.

“Did you hear me, Keithe?” she slurred from her drunken lips. “Keithe, are you listening to me?” she stood over his head. “Not to mention, sir, you aren’t supposed to be driving. What, you want to kill yourself on my watch?”

“Michelle, leave me alone,” Keithe managed to get out with one stale and heavy breath. “I have to get up and be at church early.” Thinking for only a millisecond, Keithe didn’t give her a second thought as he pulled his goose-down pillow over his head to ward off the light.

“I don’t give a—” Right as Michelle was about to make an obscene gesture toward the house of God, Keithe flew from the bed with only his boxers on, and stood in her face.

“I don’t have the time or the energy for this or you. But you, you better watch your mouth when you talk about something that means so much to me.” he tried his best to be civil.

“More than me, right?” Michelle already knew the answer, but wanted him to say it. “I said, more than me?” she asked as her husband grabbed his pillow and walked away from her.

Stopping to make himself clear to his disrespectful, yet breathtakingly beautiful, wife, Keithe fought the urge to hold her once more.

“Yes. Much more than you, Michelle. Now if you’ll excuse me.”