A Better Pair of Shoes, a novel
Chapter 33 and 34
Tony's Mantle
I entered the unknown home behind
Aisha. I’d hope she would let me try to
fight for her. I hadn’t before, because
I was looking at our life through public lenses. I’d stepped out of our marriage, and joined
everyone else as a spectator. I saw
things the way they saw things. I judged
the situation the way an outsider was expected to judge the situation. I played right into the disaster Reece had
meant to unleash in my marriage. I
hadn’t seen it from my wife’s shoes. I
couldn’t just then. I was too
embarrassed. I still wasn’t a hundred
percent comfortable with her secret, but I suspected that could never happen
anyway. I thought long and hard about
what I should do, and I heard something say, “Love her”. Right after that, I felt this kind of peace
about it. Like I was prepared to deal
with whatever else would come—not just in this situation, but any other
situation we’d have to face. So, I
decided to give it my best shot.
“Can we
talk?” I stood some feet away.
“Just tell me
why?” Aisha hadn’t changed her
question. I suppose it was the real
answer to the whole mess.
“I just messed
up.” I listened to myself put all the
responsibility on my back.
“Why didn’t you
use a condom?”
“I was drunk—it
was unexpected.” I told the truth, and
felt my shame.
“You don’t even
drink Tony. How can I trust you when you
continue to lie?” Aisha continued.
“Look babe…
something happened—it had my mind all messed up. I put myself in a bad situation, and some
things happened that I didn’t plan on.
Aisha, here’s the truth… I love
you. Is there any way we can save what
we have?” I asked hoping that we could
get pass the past; both hers and mine.
“I’m
humiliated. I feel like a fool
Tony. I can’t tell you that it’s going
to be easy. I can’t promise that when I
look at you, I won’t see a cheat.”
Aisha’s words pierced me. It took
me back to the night Pete shared with me what everyone was whispering
about. I thought to lay down my cause,
and just tell her like it really was. But
I knew what she would have to face in the world, and I didn’t want her to face
it in our marriage as well. So I
continued to love and protect her. After
all, my assumption was that the news wasn’t to devastate her, but to throw
me. No doubt someone didn’t want to see
her happy, but I knew that we would be happy together. We always were.
“If you give me a
chance, I’ll prove to you that you made the right decision.” I gave my last and final plea, and prepared
to step back if I needed to.
“Tell you
what. Let’s date again. Let me take you out. I’ll work for it.” I heard myself plea some more, and go further
out on the ledge I was on.
“I don’t
know. Let me think about it.”
Just then, I decided to step in
closer, and invade my wife’s space. She quickly
turned her face from mine as to deny the love between us, but I kissed her
anyway. I kissed her cheek; her lips;
and spoke in her ear.
“It will never
happen again. You have my word. Please.
I need you.” She stood still and
didn’t utter a word, but there were tears.
“Please don’t make
a fool of me.” She finally spoke.
“I won’t, and in
fifty years no one will remember this for how wonderful our story will
be.” I assured my wife that I did have a
plan for us.
“Then let’s
try.” Aisha surrendered to our
dream. I stood chest-to-chest with my
wife, while she leaned against the short wall, outside of the kitchen, of the
home we were in. We locked hands on both
sides of our bodies, and we kissed for a good while. After about ten more minutes of kissing and
hugging and whipping each other’s tears—I led her out of the dimly lit home,
and into the light of day. Right before
we crossed the threshold, I looked up and gave quiet thanks to God. He had not forsaken me.
Ketly
Broken to Write
In the aftermath of my shattered hopes and dreams with Jeff—somewhere out of the ashes, I found the strength, will, and a few flurries of inspiration to write. I’d been collecting notes of all kinds of cute scenes and events happening around me. I was ready to see where they would all fit, in my newest attempt to heal myself, using the relationship between words and thoughts. So in the moments between nap time, play time, and feeding time, I sat at my dining table and began stringing my notes together.
In the aftermath of my shattered hopes and dreams with Jeff—somewhere out of the ashes, I found the strength, will, and a few flurries of inspiration to write. I’d been collecting notes of all kinds of cute scenes and events happening around me. I was ready to see where they would all fit, in my newest attempt to heal myself, using the relationship between words and thoughts. So in the moments between nap time, play time, and feeding time, I sat at my dining table and began stringing my notes together.
Still
heartbroken, I resented my love to write.
It was my healing and my brokenness together at once. At first I thought I would just wait until
the hurt had faded a bit, but I woke up a few days ago, and found myself
sitting down to write. I’d always been
known to take my time between offerings.
It was my promise to my readers—nothing rushed; nothing uninspired;
nothing wasted. I usually wrote from the
outside looking in, but this time I would attempt to write this story from the
inside-out. And although no one would
really know the difference, except my friends, it would be a great challenge
for me. It would still be fiction, but a
tight fitting one.
I
sat at the table crowded with pieces of papers of all sizes and shapes, and two
empty coffee mugs, trying to course out my story and infuse the sweet poetic
touch I was known for. I knew Jeff’s
book was set to be released in about two weeks, but I hadn’t really planned on
reading it. I assumed what it would be
about, with a title like, “Any Woman I Wanted”.
Not to mention, I didn’t want my book to be sucked into becoming a fire
back in any way.
Just
then, I remembered I had been putting off calling him to let him know about the
christening I was having for Shayne. I
really wasn’t into religion, but as far as I was concerned, it was tradition
and certainly couldn’t hurt. I settled
on just sending an email. Either way, I
was almost certain he’d come.
I
finished up on the introduction for the new book, and began packing a few things
to take over to Raina’s. Shayne and I
had become regulars at her weekly game night, and I always looked forward to
having a blast. I had flaked out a
couple of times while Aisha was staying with me—only because I knew she
probably wouldn’t have a good time. I
think. Anyway, Raina was really shaping
up to be a great friend, and an asset in my circle. This was exactly what I needed to unwind from writing
and sorting through all my raw feelings; fun and laughter.
Follow the link for details on Tony's award presentation:
http://abetterpairofshoes.blogspot.com/2017/07/2nd-award-presentation-best-u-turn-ever.html
A Better Pair
of Shoes, a novel © Grace Call Communications,
LLC Copyright
©2010, 2016, 2017 by Natisha Renee Williams All Rights Reserved.
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