“Because I was marrying you!” Azmir’s eyes goes wild with what feels like resentment. “You think I’d walk into this shit with blinders?” his brows furrow. “It was bad enough that I damn near walked into an engagement with them. You think I’d go into a life with you without knowing your ghosts?”
My breathing hitches. He’s referring to my announcement of Akeem being in prison the night before we left for Tahiti.
“You wake up some nights calling some dude’s name, and for months I’ve been too afraid to ask about it, fearing you’d hit the pavement!” He snorts, “Now I know the tale behind J-Boog!”
“I would’ve told you. I’m getting better at talking!” I scream into his face.
“Fuck waiting! Do I look like the type of man who waits for shit to come together, Rayna? Am I the type of man that waits for things to fall into his lap? Huhn?” I don’t know if that’s rhetorical, but I’m certain of the answer. “The worst part of having things kept from you is the waiting!”
“So, what...I was going to happily share that I’d dated a d-boy, took his money, and skipped town? Yeah, right!” I scoff. “This would have never made it here.” I lift my wedding rings to him, feeling prematurely victorious in this battle. Confident that he’ll see it from my perspective.
Azmir cocks his head to the side, glaring at me with incredulity, taking his time to speak. “I knew about the ten grand to Sebastian…you got the first ring,” he takes a step closer to me. “I learned about the d-boy, the murders, the money…you got the second one with my fuckin’ lifelong commitment to love, honor, respect, and protect you.” He’s now just inches away, bent down and over into my face, steeping anger emanating. “I’m still here!” He pushes his index finger into the floor as he howls, forceful breaths of venom hitting my face. “I don’t fuckin’ run!”
Azmir holds his scowl and proximity as I observe his erratic breathing and flared nostrils. I’m rendered speechless. I’m still angry, still feel violated, but that’s pushed to the side by his expressions of being left…by me.
“But what you won’t get,” his voice, now terrifyingly lower, is hoarse and pouring with some strange emotion. “…is to lie, run, and keep shit else away from me.” His eyebrows rise, “It’s our fuckin’ bubble now—not just yours! It’s our lives, feelings, and privacy that get insulated, no longer yours alone.”
He stands in this position for what feels like minutes long, awaiting my rebuttal, I guess, something that won’t come. He’s left no room for it. I stand in place, rigid with embarrassment, anger, rigged with disappointment in myself—self-debasement, shame. When he turns for his office, I almost expect to feel the door slam, but that never comes. Azmir carefully closes the door, leaving me to reconcile my demons. Alone.
For days after that fight, I’m peppered with regret. Azmir’s bone-chilling homily still echoing in the darkest places of me. Though I’m still tender from his infraction, more than anything I’m feeling that I let him down once again. Worst of all, I don’t get the chance to properly apologize or try to explain my perspective with a cooler head.
~~~~~~~~~~
The following day, after our fight, Azmir leaves for New York City to attend a memorial for Christopher Wallace, something that he’s had regular attendance at and almost didn’t make because of our honeymoon. I chose the date. It’s exactly like A.D. to not make me aware of such a meaningful event to him so that he could meet my request. Also in typical A.D. fashion, he invited me to attend with him weeks before our wedding. I declined, not wanting to miss too many days from work. I now challenge my decision.
It’s been two days since he’d left and I’m dealing with a new type of blues: missing my husband. As cynical as this may sound, I’ve developed a new bond with him since exchanging vows. Perhaps it’s from spending so many days with him after being apart for weeks. Maybe it’s all of the picturesque scenery of the Pacific. It could be the galvanic exchange during our lovemaking sessions. My god! They’ve been powerful—from the first time I jumped him, the day after the wedding, waking him from a sleep to feel his steely girth inside of me. Each experience was just as electrifying as the last, if not more. Each day I awakened on my honeymoon, I questioned the reality of it all.