HIS FIRST LADY(SANDRO MARCOS)

Chapter 4: Young Men Are the Best

Cloudine shouts, "Tell me everything," as she whirls through my front door like a whirlwind.

Samuel didn't explain why neither of us went to Father's golf event when he left for work. I required someone to vent to because I was so enraged. Cloudine made the invitation to come over two minutes into the phone conversation.

Cloudine is like a sister to me, which I don't mind, but I'd rather not spend the day alone at home thinking about everything. With two people, it is much more fun to reflect on bad decisions made in life.

We move to the kitchen, where I have some snacks of fruit set out for us. Cloudine sits down on one of the stools nearby.

"Did you have sex?"

" I'm never touching Samuel again," I tell her.

She dramatically rolls her eyes. "Who is talking about Samuel? I mean with the DJ! Tell me he rocked your world!"

Although we've been friends for a long time, my expression alone answers her question, so I deliberately avoid looking at her.

"I knew that!" She puts a cherry in her mouth after picking it up. Isn't it true that young men are the best? Such...virility. and endurance. And stamina. How many organism did you have?"

I'm almost embarrassed to say, it feels so personal. But this is a safe space. "By the end of the night..five."

"Holy Shit!" Cloudine claps.

I agree wholeheartedly. Sandro had surpassed every expectation I've ever had of sex. With Samuel, I was lucky to come once. Sandro made it more like a game, trying to see how many times he could push me over the edge just to bring me back.

"He made me feel young again," I say.

"You are young," Cloudine says.

I hum, non-committal. As Cloudine and I are the same age, protesting too much might be insulting to her.

"If it wasn't for the kids, I'd probably leave Samuel and keep the guy from last night," I say. I mean it as a joke. Mostly. I think.

Cloudine snorts. " You don't need to keep anyone, Rafha. You are beautiful, and smart, and have a lot of charm. You swept that guy last night right off his feet."

"He was a DJ." I remind her. "Anyone else wouldn't look at me twice."

"You're wrong," Cloudine says. "You should have seen the way that guy looked at you. There was more than a paycheck in that guy's eyes."

I shake my head. " You are being-"

My ringing cellphone cuts me off. On reflex, I rush to answe it. If it's Samuel, he expects me to answer by the third ring.

When I reach where it's resting on the charger, though the screen says it's an unknown caller.

Strange, but I'm not afraid of unknown calls so I answer.

"This is Rafha,"! I say.

"Rafha," says the voice of a man. It's familiar somehow. "Why did you leave me a blank check?"

Oh. It's the DJ. How did he gets this number? No matter, Cloudine must have given it when she leave us together.

I'm taken aback for a moment by his call, and then by the angry tone of his voice.

"Isn't that's how things are typically done?" I ask, honestly confused. I've never been with a DJ before.

"You could have woken me, and we could have talked about this," Sandro says. " You didn't have to sneak out on me."

"I'm sorry about that," I say. "It just seemed like that would be easier. It's not a big deal though, just fill in whatever you think last night was worth. I'll be happy to pay whatever you believe to be fair."

As I speak, Cloudine eyes go wide as saucers.

"Rafha," Sandro begins, but I'm afraid to listen to him. I really did enjoy our time together, and he could so easily convince me to see him again.

But I can't. Mostly because what we shared wasn't real. He's just looking for a sugar mommy.

"Last night was a transition," I say. "It was just physical. And while I enjoyed it deeply, I assure you, I don't want you in my life anymore. Take the money, and we're through."

"But, Rafha"

I click off the phone before I can change my mind.

Immediately, he calls back. I ignore the call and then block his number.

Cloudine watches me. "You sure about this?"

"I can't deal with this right now."

I'm a standstill in life. I'm a housewife, but I'm deeply unhappy a home.

What I need, I decide, is a job.

When my daughters come back home, I share the idea with them and explain, "I will be busier that usual. It might be more difficult for us to spend as much time together."

Zeph and Abby give me a great big bear hug.

"You frown to much," Abby says. " You should do something to make you happy."

"We can take care of ourselves, Mom," Zeph says.

I initiate the next hug, so very proud of them.

They are so mature for their age.

Later, sitting around the dinner table, I propose the same idea to Samuel. He laughs so hard, he nearly chokes on his steak.

"Be realistic, Rafha. You really think any employer is going to hire you? You've been out of the workforce for ten years. You aren't exactly a hot commodity."

I force myself to stay calm, not wanting to fight in front of the girls. They already look worried enough, eyeing me with doe eyes.

How could this man, my partner of ten years, mock my ambitions and treat me as if I'm nothing? What happened to the man I had once loved? Or has he always been this way, and I was just too blind to notice?

The answer don't come easily.

"Pick up another hobby if you are bored," Samuel says. "But don't embarrass me or my good name by trying to make something of yourself. You are my wife. That is enough."

The girls look away from me, back to their food.

Samuel scoops a large spoonful of mashed potatoes from the bowl and smashes them down onto his plate.

"Maybe take a cooking class," he says.

I push my plate away, no longer hungry.

After dinner, the girls go to their rooms to finish their homework and Samuel barricades himself in his office, likely to call Kaylee. I don't want to think too much about what might be going on behind that closed door.

Reaching for my phone, I remember Sandro's earlier call. Oddly, I feel some kind of instinct to want to talk to him. Would he answer if I called him back?

I feel like he would.

No, Rafha. Talking to him wouldn't help anything.

Instead, I need something else to distract me. Something more permanent and less fake.

I unlock my phone and search through my contacts, looking for a familiar one. When I find it, I click and hit call.

The phone rings a few times. Then a woman answers, "Rafha? What's wrong?"

I take a deep breath, gathering my strength. Samuel thinks I will fail at anything I try.

I can't wait to prove him wrong.

"I've changed my mind," I say. "If it's still on the table, I would like to accept the offer I previously declined."