Chapter 4

Four

P retty

Lord save me from all this Boston traffic. It made me wish my gig in Chicago would have lasted a few more weeks, then maybe perhaps my driver wouldn't have been on vacation.

You know what I sounded like? Like someone who was being ungrateful. After all, it was a pleasure to be home after three months of grueling twelve to sixteen-hour days, constant critique on my work, and the only contact with my son being through the telephone. I wanted him grounded in one place, and my career, having me moving all around the world wasn't good for a child's stability.

Frustration just came from me having to drive to myself. Of all the indulgences I was proud to spend money on, having a driver was one of them.

Dividing time between working, being a present parent and a good wife wasn't as easy as the magazines and pictures portrayed them to be. I'll admit at times I fell short at both because my career took me away so much.

I just couldn't wait to be home for Elijah, as finally, I'd have a few months before I left again for another gig, and I just wanted every night to cook him his favorites, starting with flying fish and cou cou.

If only my husband was that simple to please. I had the best mother in the world growing up, so I had the best example of what it looked like to be a good one. But I'd had no proper example of what it took to be a good wife.

Unfortunately, I learned that my birth father had been a married movie star and abandoned my mother fairly quickly after conceiving me on holiday. Watching my mother break her back to raise me, as well put food on the table with no help from a man, I vowed never to be in that position if I could help it. Even with a husband, I still felt like I was doing everything myself. And that was the biggest strain on our union.

My husband was a good man, but before me he hadn't had that ambitious drive. I helped build himself into what he was today. The successful manager to talent of color, his biggest client being me. With a career, he had purpose, but over the years, he claimed that it hadn't been enough.

When he convinced me to have children before I was ready, I let my age be the deciding factor since I had already put off motherhood until I was in my early thirties. I thought that by him suggesting it, that it was his way of solidifying his commitment to me by starting a family. That was every man's dream, right? To be successful, have the beautiful wife and family while never having to worry about money.

You would think so, but once we had Elijah our relationship had taken a dramatic turn. And while I loved my son, probably even more than I loved myself, I often missed the Vernon I had pre-Elijah. Because now, we hardly talked about anything outside of the business parts of our lives.

We tended to agree on major things, but sometimes those little things mattered more, and I just can't get him back to the man who looked at me and thought I could do anything, unlock any door, and not be held back by my sex or gender.

Now, if we weren't discussing the work he had lined up for me, aside from arguing, we barely said a word to each other. He didn't even touch me like a husband is supposed to touch his wife. I may not have been the size eight I was when I met him, but I still had men interested. To be this touch starved while my husband and I barely got intimate anymore was the main reason I was always committing myself to work, because what else was I going to do?

Admittingly my weight gain had been significant since I had our son. I wasn't delusional in that way to ignore that I'd gone up ten dress sizes in five years, but so far, it hasn't been an issue when it came to getting booked.

People saw my talent and not my weight and while it did limit my chance to be in mainstream pictures, it certainly didn't close the doors to work on any race films, and let's face it, I had more support on those sets because when you were around your own people, it was just different.

Having my share of uncomfortable sets and work environments, I was happy to say we made enough and secured the best contracts early on in my career, so whatever we brought in now just allowed us to live well beyond our past means. Luxuries, cars, trips and everything we never had growing up were now available to us. I just never thought the biggest door to open in my life, would affect the second most important thing in my life. My marriage.

In my attempts to be the perfect wife and mother, in the past, I juggled everything. I made sure I looked good, cooked, cleaned, did all the child raising, and this was a hard one. I tried to encourage my husband while still letting feel like he was the man.

It was hard, especially since he was so bad at problem solving, I end up doing so much on my own because I hated the way he approached things. And this is all while juggling a strenuous music career. Don't get me wrong, I couldn't even see myself being anything but a pianist and composer, but stretching myself thin for so long only made things worse. Two years ago, I even had to be hospitalized for exhaustion. Vernon didn't like that very much, which was why he was so dead set on hiring maids and nannies so I could have more time for work.

Coming from a strong line of Caribbean women, I was always too proud to ask for help, but I couldn't shake the insecurity that he only wanted the extra help to have access to other women right under my nose. Five nannies. That's how many we've gone through in just two years. And they'd always be some young, thin, beautiful girl he'd always managed to hire behind my back. I didn't see how someone in their twenties with no children at all was qualified to watch my son. So yeah, I'd get rid of them the second they stepped out of line.

It didn't help that they all practically had homewrecker stamped all over their foreheads. Having women in my house was like giving him a permission slip to be unfaithful.

So, between having to deal with the lack of affection, fighting for his attention with other women, and trying not to nag him about making time for his son, you know, the one he begged me to have, I was at my limit. But coming home, I was determined to do better. Be better at addressing our problems. If he just stayed home for more than three hours at a time, he'd see that outside of the career that kept a roof over our heads, I still had so much to offer him.

You would think a few death threats would be the thing that makes him do right and be around more often. I tried not to show it, but those letters I found downright terrified me. I had performed all at all-white spaces and bars and more racist environments than Boston would ever know, and I still felt safer there than being home when I was alone so much.

Knowing a person like that knew where I lived made even the return home, a bit of a challenge. Deep down, I wished I had never seen those letters, at least then I could pretend to be blissfully unaware. Maybe I just had too many things to be worried about, and maybe I needed to be worried about the one thing I actually had control over, my marriage.

Distracted by everything weighing me down, the sound of crunching metal and broken glass accompanied my screams as I slammed into another car. Dammit! Had I not been paying attention to see that stop sign?

Looking over at the other car, my heart sunk into my stomach. Why, oh, why did it have to be a white man? I know not a lot of Black folk lived around my way, but I would have moved mountains just for this exchange to be with a Colored man instead. The rage in his eyes instilled a fear in me that I didn't know was possible, and as he exited his car to approach mine, my heart pounded fiercely as he put his head through the driver's side window, choosing not to even knock on the door. The man had no boundaries.

"Get out of the car."

The first thing I noticed, were his eyes. One of them looking completely darker than the other, but I penned it to be a trick of the light.

" Excuse me?"

"You fucking heard me. Get the hell out the car!"

He wasn't serious, was he? Times were changing; Black people, we were getting better opportunities, and different races were allowed to marry each other now. But he had to know, as a white man, telling a Black woman to get out her car wasn't harmless.

"Listen, I'm sure you're a nice man, but I don't feel safe enough to be around some stranger with no credible witnesses present."

"Trust me, sweetheart. If I was going to do something to you, nothing would have stopped me from dragging you out this car. And I never said I was a nice man. Now, get out the fucking car," he demanded once more, forcing me to follow him despite my reluctance.

Walking over to the backside of his car, he pointed out the damage like I was a child or a pet you stuck their face in their mistake to help them learn a lesson. "You know how reckless you have to be to driving to put a dent in a car as tough as this," referring to his American make and model. I didn't know much about cars, but I knew when it was American.

"I apologize. I was just distracted and on my way home from a long trip—" With his mouth, he made this sound that was between sucking his teeth, matched with a condescending laugh.

"See, this is why women shouldn't drive." I get that he was upset, but I wasn't about to let him demean me for an honest mistake.

"I don't see what my gender has to do with it."

"You women are far more emotional. You ladies get your cycles and things like that make you too emotional to pay attention to a goddamn stoplight." At this point, I was convinced he only wanted to argue, not offer solid solutions.

"If it's about money, I could have it both towed and fixed?—"

"You God damn right you'll have it towed and fixed. Even if I have to pay for it, you sure as hell are reimbursing me," he rudely interrupted. Reaching into my purse, I pulled out my card and offered it to him. At first, his reaction gave me caution, giving the card a look over with a menacing stare. Finally, he shook his head and proceeded to laugh to himself.

" This is where you live?" Was he trying to piss me off? Because I was about two seconds away from hitting the other side of his damn car.

"Actually, it is. Black folks can have money and live in decent neighborhoods too, you know?" I said appalled.

"Change of plans. This is how we're going to do this. You are going to give me the keys to your car, and I'm going to drive to the first mechanic we see and have them tow and fix mine."

"Why would I trust a complete stranger with my car?" This man had lost his got damn mind.

"Well, you're about to trust me with your kid. Sorry we couldn't have had more of a formal introduction but today is your lucky day. You're looking at your new nanny."