I had rearranged and reorganized all of my goals and dreams to accommodate his. He successfully stole my heart, and then just like a thief in the night, he locked me away in this secure palace and left without a trace. In the short period of time that we were together, I had managed to break off nearly every tie to the outside world and put anything that I might have wanted to do with my life on hold.
My dream of being a clinical psychologist was shelved as I helped Titus strategize and grow his business. When he made his first million, he said, “No wife of mine will be working.” So, at his persistence, I reluctantly settled into the idea of being a pampered housewife.
I settled myself in. I always believed in his promise that right now we were just stacking chips with the understanding that once the day came when his money was all clean, we would revisit my dream of opening the psych office. That had always been my goal.
The only connections that I still had from my previous life before becoming The Mrs. Wilson were Rhonda and Gladys. I rarely even visited my family anymore, because my mother didn’t like the hold that he had on me. When my mother didn’t like someone, it was a given that the rest of the family would despise them, as well.
Without mother’s approval, no one made it in or out of the family. That was the way it was, until I defied that unspoken rule by marrying Titus anyway, against her better judgment. Despite mother’s bipolar illness, she still had the presence of mind to know that Titus would put me through more than she was willing to sit back and watch as a bystander.
When my father suffered a heart attack four years ago, mother was distraught, and as a result, she became even more persistent that I could do better for myself. She didn’t want to see stress eat me alive as it had done Daddy for years while he worked to provide for our family.
It took me a while to realize that I was staring into the glass mirror hanging on our kitchen wall. It revealed a reflection that I wasn’t prepared to see.
Mama is always right, I could hear her vivid words playing out in my mind. The image before me forced me to put more stock in the meaning of the words. My petite frame was devoid of the beautiful spirit that once dwelled within it. My eyes were cold and unreadable. My lips were pouty, pale, and puffy. My hair, though healthy and glowing from the best care that money could buy, was still disheveled. The pretty caramel skin that covered my flawless face was flushed red from anguish. Not only did Titus stop loving me. I had stopped loving myself.
Thank God that I had Rhonda’s shoulder to cry on. She listened to me. There were no judgments passed. She was there any time I needed her, lending me her time and support unselfishly, as she had consistently done the entire six years of my marriage.
One thing that was not debatable was that my husband needed a wakeup call – something to get him to recognize that ‘home is where the heart is’, and home was where he was supposed to be. Luther said it best, a house is not a home if there’s no one living there. Titus barely came home long enough to take a piss, much less make this place into a home.
As you can probably tell by now, the streets helped make good on Titus’ promise to be the first one in his family to make it out of the hood. Oh, he made it alright, straight to the top of the line bossing. How did he make it? Let’s just say that he dabbled on the wrong side of the law in pharmaceuticals. Titus, along with his second-in-command, Street Justice, ran the drug operations in practically every hood in east Alabama.
The same streets that keep generations of his family’s spirits broken and in despair would be the same streets that catapulted him to his millionaire status. Once the money started piling up and we were able to live out every dream that we had ever dreamed together, he forgot about me and started running rampant in the streets with Lord-Knows-Who doing Lord-Knows-What. It seemed to have slipped his mind that it was me that had stood by his side when it was all just a pipe dream. Recovering from my trip down memory lane, I was snapped back into the ever so palpable present by Rhonda frantically calling my name.
“Shayla, are you still there? Shay-la!”
“I’m here,” I assured her, twirling my finger around the mouth of my glass.
“Are you going to be okay over there, honey? You’re about to make me put on some clothes, and come over there.”
“You don’t have to come over. I will be all right. Just thinking about how different things would be if my husband….” I stopped mid-sentence because I could not say the words. I could not bring myself to think the thought that my husband didn’t love me anymore. I heard Rhonda sigh with relief as if my tone had assured her that I would be okay alone. I, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure.
“If your husband what? You know Titus loves you to death,” Rhonda said begrudgingly.
God knows I loves me some Ronnie, but she has always felt that I should appreciate what Titus does for me more, even though he was never around long enough to give me something to appreciate. I wished that we could three-way in my other sister-from-another-mother, Gladys, because she would be more sensitive to my situation right now. Even though I desperately wanted to talk to her, I was happy for Gladys, because she had found the nerve to runaway for the weekend to Miami, leaving her husband and kids in town. I could only imagine that James, her husband, was losing his mind right about now. I smiled thinking of how brave she was to take off like that.
After receiving an invitation to a masquerade party from her old college buddy, Brenda Jackson, Gladys skipped town without a second thought – leaving her two beautiful children with their up-to-no-good father to fend for themselves. She was my shero for making that move. If only I had the nerve to do something for and about me for once.
At that precise moment, I would have loved to be able to get her pearls of wisdom about my situation, but I smiled with a glimmer of joy, knowing that she was taking the time out to do something just for her. The thought crossed my mind to bust up her vacation with my problems by calling her on three-way anyhow, but then I decided against it. I won’t interrupt her getaway with my issues.
It wasn’t like I had anything new to tell her. Just the same ole, same ole ‘Titus is a runaway’ story.
Gladys’ words rang in my ear as if she were speaking them to me live, “Love it or leave it, honey, but if you love him and want to stay, make sure the situation works out in your best interest.” In other words, if she could be on the phone right now, my girl would be telling me to stash away more cash and find a pretty young thing on the side for some ass.
Gladys’ theory on me staying with Titus was to “get it how I lived.” Meaning, take what he has to offer but make it work for me. Time and time again, she told me to dust myself off and try again, saying, “There are plenty pretty young things out there with plenty love potions to turn that frown upside down, chica,” she would say in her signature way.
On the other hand, in direct contrast to Gladys’s mostly sophisticated businesswoman persona, Rhonda was the ‘realest chick’ you could ever know. Even though she never lived in or near the streets, she was attracted to the street life and thugs. When we were in high school, she lived on the good side of town, yet would always find her way to the Sloan Mill projects. She wanted to hang out with my cousins, and whatever other knuckle heads that were holding down the block, all night until early morning.
All I could do was pray for my girl back then, because if it was some ole’ wannabe gangster stuff that she thought she was getting into, then she was game.
One thing that hadn’t changed after all of these years was that I trusted both of my girls with my life. I knew that no matter what, they always had my best interest at heart in any situation. We had been through a lot together. Since I was no longer really close to my mother or sisters, our friendship was paramount. I would soon learn that ‘trust’ is also the root word of ‘distrust’, and distrust opens up the door to a world of secrets, deceit and mayhem.
Chapter 4
Shayla
As I continued to vent about Mr. MIA on the phone with my best friend, I could hear Rhonda brushing her fingernails up against her nail file. I’d known her long enough to know her habits. She either rolled her hair between her fingers or filed her fingernails when she was in deep thought or trying to help me figure out my mess, so I knew that she was thinking hard. She was just as stressed out as I was.
As far back as I could remember, no matter what Titus did, she had never spoken a bad word about him. She liked his ‘rough around the edges’ style and the bank that he brought in. The fact that he was from the streets was a plus in her book. I knew that his ability to take care of me was something that she admired. She didn’t have to worry about her girl in that respect. Just like she loved me, she loved Titus like a brother, so I knew she wanted to see our marriage survive. That was just how real of a friend she was, wanting the best for me, even though she didn’t have the same in her life.