“Those are the only acceptable reasons for divorce?”
“Those are examples of legitimate reasons to consider terminating your commitment, but it’s on a case-by-case basis. What you can tolerate from a thieving addict may fall short of the patience I’d provide one. Two affairs may ruin your confidence of his commitment to your marriage. I may be able to withstand five. It’s subjective, Rayna. It is only when the essence of you changes as a result of his lack of commitment should you consider leaving.”
She sits up in her chair. “The passage with Azmir won’t be pretty every day. You won’t be in love every day. You will hit rough roads ahead. And your challenges may be unique to some of your contemporaries because of Azmir’s occupation and social-economic status. He’s in the public eye. The role of his partner cannot be taking on by someone with jumpy shoulders. In order to increase security in a relationship, you must produce predictability. You can’t up and leave. You have to know within your heart, be settled in your mind, and be anchored from your soul that you can devote your life to him.”
Doubt rises from my belly. “Do you think I can do that?”
“I think you can do all things through Christ who strengthens you.”
“Pretty generic,” I snort. That verse is not convincing when discussing permanency.
“It is what I believe. It’s what I’ve lived for the past twenty-eight years of marriage. I’ve gone through the groupie women. The mercurial shifts from him switching roles of pastor, to husband, to father, to lover, to friend, or whatever other hat the moment calls for. I’ve been through his identity crisis, age crisis, and every mild depression he’s suffered from not being able to save the world. Our sex life has gone between incredible, fair, and lackluster…all depending on where he is—sometimes where I am.
“I cannot control John, but I can control my intent as his wife and my reactions to his behaviors. There were many days when I questioned my endurance, but far less that I wavered in my commitment. I work to be who John wants me to be, when he needs me to be it. That devotion is based on what I decided to be for my husband long ago, and not what I believe he deserves in that moment. Sure, there were times when I felt overwhelmed and underappreciated, however, there has never been a time when I’ve not been sure of my commitment. I am the wife I decided to be. So, tell me Rayna, what type of wife will you be?”
First Lady Twanece has given me loads to think about in this session. I don’t walk out of there self-assured or with a game plan for my nuptials with Azmir. However, the session gets the cogs of my mind working overtime.
Later, as I fall into bed, heaviness in my chest has taken residence. I realize how lonely I am. There’s no reason in planning my role as Mrs. Jacobs when there is no Mr. Jacobs here in his own bed to motivate my aspirations. I miss Azmir so much. So much that I let go of a few unwilled tears as I bury my face into his pillow.
We’re almost there, Rayna. He’s doing this for you. I chide myself before falling into slumber.
~~~~~~~~~~
The night of Chanell’s party, I arrive feeling pretty good for a woman experiencing the equivalent to blueballs for a man. I show up in distressed denim cut-offs, stopping just under my kneecaps, a black, sheer mock tank, a black and white, zebra print blazer, and red So Kate Louboutin pumps with a red Prada Nappa envelope clutch. I selected a simple look to hang out with my ‘round-the-way-chicks.
Almost as soon as I walk through the door, I locate Chanell, Kim, and their girls. I inform John of where I’ll be so that he can make himself wallpaper. Within just feet of joining them, Kim notices me approaching and yelps my welcome. Chanell looks up, and once she recognizes me she shrieks just the same, and I notice her call for the server who had just left their party.
“Yo! We gotta include another shot for my girl, Ray-Dizzle!” Chanell shouts.
When I approach them, I greet her first with a hug and small gift bag. I have a burst of elation at seeing her and Kim within the same group.
So I guess these two have kissed and made up.
“Bring it! Bourgeois black girls take shots, too!” I yell out, remembering her jab from the week before.
“Oh, Ray, man, drop ‘dat shit! It’s my born day and we ‘bout to get turnt all the way up.”
“Okay!” I agree, doing a little two step. “You look good, C!” I admire.
Chanell’s wearing a red mini dress with a slight turtleneck-collar. She’s paired it with ankle booties on a fat heel. Not my style, but I always appreciate seeing her in feminine wear. She’s rocking her usual head full of micro curls. Her lips look like they were dipped in florescent honey. I don’t know who applied Chanell’s makeup, but they did a stellar job. She looks beautiful!
“Thanks, Ray! You stuck up ass bitches ain’t the only ones wearing it proper,” she crudely sticks her tongue out.