Her Pleasure His Pain

THE WORK

Texas became the precursor for enduring my marriage. Bry and I remained under the same roof even though she slept in the primary suite, and I took up residence on the other side of the mini mansion we called home. We returned to counseling though it seemed a waste of an hour listening to my wife defend her stance on why I didn't need to be concerned about who she fucked. And somehow, she never managed to explain why she didn't do the very thing that she claimed led her astray in the first damn place, communicate.

I would never be able to comprehend why she believed she had the right to play victim for the lies she used for self preservation while I was supposed to be the villain for lying to protect her. But each week, I let her have her moment. After all, rallying for Bry was what she did best. On the ride home from our last session, I ran the idea by her that we should host a dinner with a few of our closest friends.

"You really think it's a good idea to have people over? We don't even want to be there." She protested.

"We have to carry on, business as usual, right?" I scornfully regurgitated her words, so that she could hear how ridiculous they sounded. She ignored the mockery and to my surprise, didn't take much longer to agree to the idea.

The night of the get together, Aniyah and Chad were the first to arrive. He and I migrated to the outside for beers and cigars while the women filled their wine glasses and made themselves comfortable in the family room. Chad stated his case about the trajectory of my football career while I watched my wife chat it up with Aniyah before she went to answer the doorbell. Moments later, Mason stepped outside.

"What's up, man?"

Dapping up my guest, I replied. "Ain't shit. Where's Kelly?"

"Tied up dealing with that Cannon case. I won't be seeing her for a while, but I still brought a plus one."

His big personality and boisterous voice preceded his appearance. "Boy, if I would have known I'd be breaking bread with you one day, I wouldn't have put the smack down on your daddy's ass years ago."

I laughed, then passed Hampton 'Amp' Diggs a beer. "That doesn't matter. His recollection of your run-ins don't have you smacking nothing but your gums. You're missing a ring from '78, right? Don't worry he's keeping it warm for you."

I wasn't about to fanboy in my own house. But it surely felt good to erupt into genuine, raucous laughter. One good night was all I wanted, and it certainly seemed to be going in that direction. For dinner, Bry and I each took our seats at opposite ends of the table. Aniyah cozied up with Chad and Mason cautioned Amp to be on his best behavior. He didn't listen.

"Jr, what the hell is going on with you these days?"

"What do you mean?"

"They gonna get you back out there or not?"

I cast a glance towards Sabryna, then answered. "We'll see. I still have a lot more work to do."

"Shit, you betta not let'em keep stalling you out. The longer your ass is on that bench, the less of a chance you have of breaking your old man's records, so he can finally shut the hell up."

"Amp, it'll take a lot more than that to get that man to be quiet."

The meal was a success as everyone appeared to enjoy the friendly banter and delicious food. The night continued. Back in our groups after dessert, Aniyah and Sabryna sat by the pool while the fellas and I flanked the outdoor bar. When Mason stepped away to take a call from Kelly, Amp voiced his discontent.

"I don't know what that negro sees in that gal. They fucking around one minute, then fucking over one another the next. Shit, she act like she just as much a man as he is. Dumbest shit I've ever seen."