Changes

chapter four

Tiffany

O nce again, I look at my phone on the table. The time reads half past midnight. The candles I lit have all burned down to nubs. The food is long past cold, the wine is nearly gone, and my patience is shot to hell.

I’ve left multiple voicemails and text messages on Marcus’ phone, yet I haven’t heard a word from him. I’ve even called his so-called friends and they haven’t seen him either. After calling the hospital and the police station, to make sure he isn’t in either of those places, I’m fuming.

I pick up my phone to check the time again, but quickly put it down. Standing from the table, I start to blow out the candles. Once I’m done, I grab the plates and scrape the food into the garbage disposal.

After making my way into my bedroom, I sit down, dropping my head into my hands. I don’t know how we got here. Marcus and I have been together since we were Juniors in High School. He’s my first and only in many ways. I never would have thought we would be in this place now. It feels as if there’s an ocean between us and no matter what I do the ocean just keeps getting bigger.

Just then, the creaking of the front door draws my attention.

“Tiff,” Marcus calls through the house.

“In the bedroom,” I answer. “Okay, Tiffany let him explain first before you accuse him of anything,” I whisper to myself.

The bedroom door flies open, and a smiling Marcus walks in the room. The moment his gaze lands on me in my black lace negligee that barely covers my intimate parts, his smile falls.

“Damn, baby. You waiting up for Daddy like that.”

I fight to not roll my eyes. “Where were you tonight?”

The smile reappears on his face as he walks closer to the bed. He pulls an envelope out his back pocket and dumps the contents onto the foot of the bed.

Picking up the stacks of hundred dollar bills my mind goes blank.

“That’s $20,000,” Marcus says proudly. I squeal in delight as I look at the stacks of crisp twenties. This money could do wonders for us. We could pay off the credit card bill, even get caught up on some other bills.

However, just as quickly as the excitement came, it dwindles. “Where did you get this money?”

“I told you, I know my shit when it comes to sports. No one can read a game like me. I found this new spot. Baby, they bid big money on the games. I took $5000 out of our savings, and I won all this.”

His sentence could have stopped at $5000 because that’s all I heard.

Holding up a hand to stop anything else he has to say. “You took five grand out of our savings.”

He shrugs. “Well, yeah. You have to put money in to get it out. But look at all the money I won.”

I know I should be happy. He more than doubled the money he took out. But that savings is all we have to get us by. It has come in clutch on many occasions when we couldn’t make ends meet. What would he have done if he lost the bet?

“Why would you do that? Especially without talking to me about it first.”

His face scrunches up as if he smelled something sour. “Why would I have to talk to you about my money.”

Leaping up from my seat, I toss the band of hundreds down onto the bed.

“Your money?” I repeat.

“Yeah, I didn’t see you out on that court shooting three pointers.”

I take a breath, hoping it will calm my nerves. It doesn’t.

“You’re right, I wasn’t on the court. But I didn’t specify whose money was whose when my check was paying all the bills for the last two years.”

Marcus’ eyes narrow. “You know, most women would be happy for their man if he brought home this much money. But not you.”

“You gambled with our safety net. What if you’d lost? There was only ten thousand left in the savings. What would we have done then?”

He takes a step closer to me. “But I didn’t lose, and I’m not going to. All the guys can tell you. I never lose at this shit.”

“Gambling is not a guarantee. Marcus, you need a job and a steady income. You won’t always win with gambling.”

I can tell the moment he shuts down on me. His nostrils flare and he glares at me with ice in his eyes. He runs a hand over his low fade and shakes his head.

“I don’t know why I try with you. You’re never going to be happy. Just say what the real issue is,” he snaps.

I’m at a loss because I already told him the real issue. “I just told you—”

“No,” he says cutting me off. “You’re mad because you thought you were going to sit on your ass and be a trophy wife collecting money off my skills. That’s why you picked that dumb ass design major. You had no real intentions of working. Now you’re mad at your boss and everyone else because you have no real talent. Face it Tif, as much as you hate your mother, you’re just like her.”

If I were cut open and left to bleed out, it wouldn’t hurt as bad as his words did. Everything he said was purposely used to bring me down. I’ve always loved design. I’ve told him this a thousand times. I never once told him that I didn’t want to work while he played. In fact, I was trying to get a job when he first went into the league. He is the one that told me to wait. And for him to mention my mother knowing our history is heartbreaking. There was a time when he would’ve never mentioned her in my presence, let alone compare us. That ocean between us is spreading wider.

Again, I ask myself, how the hell did we get here?

“Today was one of the best days of my life,” I say as I fight the tears that burn the back of my throat. “I finally got one of the biggest projects in our company’s history, and you were the only person I wanted to celebrate with. I’m so thankful you finally told me how you really feel.”

I back away, as he reaches for me.

“Tiff,” he pleads.

Turning my back on him, I walk into our bathroom and slam the door. On the other side I hear him cursing and throwing things. The room goes silent and minutes later the front door slams. He’s gone again.