Blind Delusion Read online

  Bill seemed pleased with himself as he stroked the hood of his new car.

  “What kind of rip-off deal have you gotten into this time?” she said, her voice now rising. She took a deep breath to calm herself. “And how are you going to pay for this business when you spent your severance on this car? Have you conveniently forgotten about the thirty thousand dollars you lost three years ago in that risky internet startup company? I carried you when that deal went sour, remember?”

  “Get off my back.” His playful mood had suddenly turned cold. “Money is the least of our problems. Anyway, you’ve got royalties coming in from those self-help books of yours. Then there’s your practice. Why the hell are you hassling me about my investments?”

  “Because what you do affects me. I’m tired of watching you act like a kid with too many toys to play with.”

  “Can’t you for once think about what somebody else wants, Renee?” he said and slammed his palm against the hood of the car. “Instead of it always being about what you want. You’re so damn self-centered and controlling.”

  Renee turned away. She didn’t want to admit it but his words hit home and she couldn’t meet his gaze. She didn’t know how she was able to solve other people’s relationship problems but still couldn’t seem to follow her own advice.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bill. I’m not self-centered or controlling,” she said calmly.

  “Oh, no? Then let me refresh your memory, sweetheart.”

  Bill proceeded to name times and dates when she had made major decisions without consulting him. “And what about this past summer when you met with that social worker behind my back and started adoption proceedings without telling me a damn thing!”

  Renee stared at her painted toes while sifting through Bill’s accusations. When all her excuses disintegrated, she realized he had a point. She had been self-centered and controlling at times. When she ran down the list of strategies that she advised her clients to follow, she admitted to herself that she had resisted following her own suggestions. No wonder her marriage was in trouble. She couldn’t blame it all on him.

  “You’re right, Bill. Our problems aren’t all your fault. And getting angry won’t solve anything.”

  Bill unfurled his brow and reached out to her. “Come on, baby, let’s go inside the house.” He put his arms around her shoulders, “You’re half naked out here and shivering.”

  Bill clicked the automatic door lock. They walked into the house and she allowed Bill to guide her inside as she tried to piece through these new, troubling events. Any stranger peering at them from the outside would see a well-off couple seemingly enjoying all the trappings of success, from the baroque statuettes perched atop Italian marble pedestals at the foyer to the flower-filled, crystal vases, and cloisonné-adorned tables. But Renee and Bill Hayes had long ago ceased to notice their fine paintings against the pale yellow walls, the mahogany antique furnishings, or the silk-threaded Persian rugs throughout their home that had been professionally decorated by Ambrose and Rockwell.

  They entered the formal drawing room where a Steinway baby grand sat in a corner un-tuned and neglected. Bill slumped into a comfortable barrelback chair. He leaned back and closed his eyes. Renee sat beside him and when she touched him, his body instinctively jerked.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He slowly opened his eyes and stared ahead. “Nothing. I was just thinking how today was my last day at EduTech after twelve years. I guess I’m feeling mixed emotions after all.”

  “That’s understandable,” she said, softening her voice.

  His face contorted as he spoke, “They had the nerve to bring in some kids from Drake Beam to tell us how to write a damn resume. I told ‘em to kiss my old, tired, Black ass. I might be a Neanderthal, but I was writing resumes when they were still in kindergarten.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You know how it is out there, Renee,” he smoothed the gray hair at his temple, “We live in a youth-obsessed, self-centered culture. Everybody’s out for himself. Why bother looking for another damn job only to hear some snot nose recruiter say, ‘Sorry, Mr. Hayes but the client chose someone more qualified for that position.’ Hell, what they really mean is, they found someone twenty years younger willing to work for less money.” He pounded his fist on the arm of the chair. “To hell with all that bullshit. I got a new business partner and we’re gonna make a whole lotta cash,” he nodded and winked at her.

  “Who is this new business partner?” Renee wanted to sound supportive but she was skeptical.

  “You remember Clifton Corbin Shaw? One of the managing partners at Himes, Shaw, & Harrison? About three weeks ago I mentioned to Cliff that I was a senior technical instructor and moonlighted on the side in the computer business. Guess Ole Cliff was impressed ‘cause he called right after that and said he wanted to give me the first shot at a partnership in this new company he had just started. Renee, you should hear this guy talk about his ideas for the future. He’s a genius, another Bill Gates or Donald Trump.”

  Renee shrugged, “I don’t recall meeting him.”

  “You know who I mean. We met at the Capital Tennis Challenge Auction last month. And I’ve been running into him at the gym every once in awhile. He’s got a plan to set up a technical recruiting firm. Says he needs somebody like me to run the day to day operations.”

  Renee frowned as she suddenly recalled the evening she had met Clifton Shaw. Short and thickset with skin the color of wet mud, and small, close-together eyes. He had insisted that everyone join him for drinks at Blue Duck Tavern after the auction. It didn’t take too many Jack Daniels™ for Shaw to unleash his obnoxious nature. It was bad enough that the man kept peering at her breasts whenever he spoke to her, but when she overheard him say, ‘If a Brother plans to get ahead in life, he’d better marry a white woman. These sistahs out here are too damn angry all the time,’ that did it for her. After hearing him say that, she had grabbed her purse and left the table.

  “Oh, yes, unfortunately I do remember Clifton Shaw. Be careful that you don’t buy into everything people tell you without investigating it first. I don’t like that guy.”

  “Damnit, Renee! There you go again. Always criticizing everything I do before it even gets off the ground. Let me handle my own business affairs and you handle yours.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Shit!” Bill shot out of the chair. “I gotta go, babe. I’m meeting Shaw downtown at his office tonight to go over a few final issues.”

  “Are you serious? It’s after ten o’clock and you just got home. Did it ever occur to you that I might want some attention from you tonight? Who has a business meeting this late? I know you just lost your job but you’re not the only one going through changes.”

  “What the hell do you want from me, Renee?”

  “What do I want? I want a husband and a friend. Someone I can grow old with and know that I’m loved no matter what. I want to wake up in the morning and feel joy. Not feel like life is passing me by. I want to hold my own baby in my arms. A child may even bring us closer together. We could nurture him, love him, and watch him or her grow into a fine adult.” Renee turned her face away and quickly wiped a tear. “I wish you’d try to understand what it’s like wanting something so bad all your life and not being able to have it.”

  “You’re wrong, Renee. I know exactly what that feels like.” He stiffened, and then paused before continuing in a gentle tone. “Sweetheart, I understand you have this maternal need to take care of people. I guess that’s why you became a psychologist. But I’ve told you before I’m too old to start being somebody’s daddy.” He approached her where she was seated. “Besides, my Pops wasn’t the best role model to learn from. Who knows what kinda father I’d be? Why can’t things just stay the way they are?”

  He knelt down before her and took her hand
. “Didn’t you just promise to start seeing things from my perspective?”

  “I want to—I mean, I will try but I need you to do the same.”

  Bill nodded and gave her hand a quick pat. “Okay, but right now I gotta get to this meeting. I just stopped in to pick up some papers we need to go over tonight. Shaw’s a night owl and the only time he has to work on this deal is after hours since his law practice is so busy during the day. Don’t wait up, babe.”

  Bill rose and started to walk away, but Renee grabbed his elbow. “You don’t understand. I’m suffocating in this marriage and in case you haven’t noticed, it’s not working.”

  “I’m sorry babe but can we talk about this later?” He broke free of her grip and left the room without waiting for approval to end the conversation.

  Suddenly, he turned on his heels and came back. “Trust me, Renee, I know exactly what I’m doing.” Then he smiled. “Today’s Thursday, right? I promise, we’ll do something really special for your birthday tomorrow. If you can just be a little more patient, I’ll make it up to you.”

  Renee blinked back her tears as Bill left the room, leaving her slumped in the chair. After a few minutes had passed she heard the front door slam shut. She wanted to scream, to throw or kick something, to hurt Bill. But she did nothing. “All right, honey,” she mouthed the words silently in her head, “Go do what you think you have to do. And, I’ll do the same.” She inhaled deeply, then exhaled. Seven years of psychotherapeutic training, fifteen years of practice, and three years of emergency room nursing had conditioned her to stay calm under extreme pressure. This time would be no different. Renee had fought worse demons than Bill and had survived.

  Chapter 3 - Brenda

  Brenda Johnson awoke suddenly when she thought she heard Justin, her three-month old son, crying in his nursery. Her ears were tuned into Justin’s cries, even when she was in a deep sleep. But now fully awake, there was complete silence in the room, except for the sound of her husband, Jerome’s breathing as he slept next to her. The only light came from an orange-yellow glow of a lit candle that Brenda had left burning on top the dresser. It emitted a spicy sweet fragrance of cinnamon and oranges that mingled with melting wax. She rolled over to face Jerome, tucking the spread under her chin. She pressed her body against him and softly massaged his back with her fingertips, yet he continued to sleep soundly. Her golden tan leg intertwined with his dark coffee-toned leg and their bodies blended into each other, a contrast of light and dark brown. As usual Jerome took up almost all of the space on their double bed. His muscular body from daily workouts was spread out across the rumpled sheets.

  Brenda raised her head a little to glance at the clock on the nightstand next to Jerome, hoping she’d have a few more hours left to sleep. To her dismay it was almost 5 o’clock, and the alarm was due to go off in 5 minutes. She flung the covers back, then reached over to turn off the alarm. No sense waking up Sleeping Beauty, she thought, eyeing her husband with envy. He slept soundly on his stomach with his face buried in the pillow. With a sigh, she slowly rose from the bed. Every morning during the work week was the same. While they both had to leave the house by seven, Jerome only had to get himself out the door. She, on the other hand, had to prepare Justin’s bottles, pack bag lunches as well as fix breakfast for Jerome and herself, get dressed, and get the baby fed and ready to take to the babysitter’s. She stuffed her arms into her floral-print cotton robe without even bothering to tie the belt. Why can’t he get up at 5 o’clock once and awhile and let me sleep an extra 45 minutes? We’re both working full-time. But Brenda knew this was a rhetorical question because she already knew the answer to why she couldn’t expect Jerome to do more. Just having him working steady for a change was a huge improvement over 18 months ago when he was still using drugs, unemployed, staying out all night, and messing around with his ex-girlfriend, Leenae. At least these days she knew where he was at night. Brenda braced herself with one hand on the edge of the bed as she bent down low to reach for her slippers with the other hand. She slid her feet into the well-worn slippers and sat on the edge of the bed, not yet ready to begin her morning routine. Things could be much worse, she thought. Sure I’m dog tired and we don’t have our own place yet, but at least Jerome’s working steady now and not running the streets with his homeboys. That’s exactly how he got into trouble in the first place.

  Jerome delivered packages for Union Delivery Service or UDS as he called it. She worked as an office assistant for Dr. Renee Hayes, a clinical psychologist in private practice in Washington, D. C. They were living temporarily with Mama Etta in a quiet Southeast Capitol Hill neighborhood. Until just two months ago Brenda and her husband had been living in subsidized housing in the Northeast Trinidad neighborhood. After little Justin was born, they moved in with Jerome’s grandmother to save money and get on their feet. Brenda didn’t want her newborn around flying bullets from drive-by shootings or drug deals gone bad. Mama Etta had left last week to stay with her sister in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida for about six months. She told them that cold weather made her arthritis act up and she hated wintertime in Washington, D. C. Brenda recalled Mama Etta saying, you never know what you might wake up to in this city, a blizzard or a heat wave! But Brenda suspected Jerome’s grandmother really wanted to give the two young people some privacy so they could strengthen their marriage, especially after all the trouble that Jerome had gotten himself into in the past. Brenda desperately wanted a home of her own like Mama Etta’s little house with its fenced in patch of grass and flower boxes on the steps. This tree-lined section of Southeast Washington, D. C in Capitol Hill felt safe and looked like a good place to raise a child. Staying at Mama Etta’s for a while would help them fix their credit rating and save for their own house.

  These days life was pretty good and she felt blessed. Brenda knew how quickly things could change. She got down on her knees and leaned over the edge of the bed, bowing her head into clasped hands, she said a silent prayer of thanks to the Lord for her husband’s long clean spell and for giving them this lovely place to stay, no matter how temporary. She asked God to continue to keep Jerome from temptation. This was all she had ever asked God for. She wasn’t praying for worldly goods like winning the Lottery—just to keep her family safe from all the evil out there in the world. When she wasn’t too tired in the mornings to forget, this prayer was another part of her morning ritual. Still kneeling while resting her head in her hands, Brenda tried not to think about the way it was before, but she couldn’t help it.

  Before landing his current job six months ago as a driver for UDS, Jerome installed generators for the Washington Suburban Sanitary Commission (WSSC), where he was making good money and received excellent benefits. All that changed one Friday on payday when he neglected to show up for work three days in a row. Turns out he had used up his entire two-week paycheck on drugs. Before that relapse, he had kept a job for all of two months as a driver for a flower shop until he decided to use the company truck as bargaining collateral to buy drugs. Prior to joining UDS, Brenda couldn’t recall a time when Jerome had worked anywhere for longer than six months. She knew she would have to keep praying, for Jerome as well as for herself.

  Dear Lord, help me to forgive and to forget the past. Brenda tried to meditate on pleasant things as she recited prayers from her childhood. Yet, no matter how hard she tried to focus on her private prayers, bad memories about her husband’s past drug abuse and infidelity crept through her thoughts. Brenda never understood what had led Jerome astray. He came from a church-going, middle-class family with an older brother and a younger sister, and grew up with both parents in the household. Even Jerome’s father had tried to warn her before she married him. Mr. Johnson had explained to Brenda how hard it was as a father to use tough love and kick his son out for good despite his wife’s protests that their son had no where else to go. Jerome’s father said he would no longer enable his son’s addiction. Brenda recalled the time that Jer
ome had once shared with her that he felt abandoned by his immediate family. The only two people that never turned him away were his Uncle Ike and his seventy-eight year old, maternal grandmother, Mama Etta, whose house they were now living in. So far, Thank God, everything was okay or was it? Brenda tried not to ask herself the questions, am I truly happy and content with my life? Or am I just kidding myself? Is this nothing more than blind delusion? Brenda didn’t want to face the answers to these questions. She whispered ‘Amen’ and got up from her knees.

  Brenda headed for the bathroom, turned on the light and picked up her toothbrush, avoiding looking at herself in the mirror that hung over the sink. She momentarily caught her reflection and saw the half-closed, sleepy eyes staring back at her. The longer she stared at herself the harder it was to block out the remarks from her girlfriends, saying she should never have taken Jerome back after the first time he got fired for drugs and for his many 'cheating with other women' incidents. Brenda brushed her teeth vigorously, then bent over the sink to spit out the blob of toothpaste. She swished a handful of running faucet water into her mouth. She could hear her girlfriends’ advice running through her mind. ‘A leopard never changes his spots. Girl, throw that loser out!’ Cha-Cha Taylor, with her trademark ‘know-it-all’ attitude, had advised Brenda a long time ago to dump Jerome. Her other girlfriend from high school, Veda Simms, had agreed with Cha-Cha.

  Brenda dabbed her lips with a towel and frowned defiantly into the mirror while finger-combing her soft, layered bangs and wisps of auburn-brown waves that tapered both cheeks. Cha-Cha was certainly no expert on how to recognize Mr. Right decided Brenda. These days Cha-Cha was always complaining about her love life. Brenda also couldn’t forget that Cha-Cha and Jerome had once been an item back in high school. Whenever anybody brought that up Cha-Cha would say that was ancient history. Still, could Brenda really trust Cha-Cha to give her honest advice about an old fling? Veda was no better. Several months ago Veda had tried to punish her cheating boyfriend with a dose of rat poison in his drink. She was certainly nobody to take advice from. But it wasn’t just her two best girlfriends who claimed Jerome was no good. Even her own mother hated Jerome. That had been enough right there to give the poor man another chance as far as Brenda was concerned. Brenda was determined to prove them all wrong, even if it broke her heart. Despite her husband’s flaws and weaknesses, she felt Jerome could be saved. And, she knew deep down he loved her. She just couldn’t be sure how she knew it—surely, not from his behavior. She turned out the bathroom light and quietly closed the door. She approached Jerome’s side of the bed to better see the time on the clock that sat nearby on his nightstand.