I couldn’t help but smile.
Greg continued. “Felise, I want our marriage to work, and I know these last few weeks have been difficult. Your having to be there for Paula hasn’t been easy either.”
I heard the words, but I didn’t believe him. After all, I’d heard all of these promises before. And my husband would try. He’d try to put me first, but the effort never lasted. I think the record was nine days.
He stroked my hair and then leaned in and nuzzled my neck.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I miss us. And I want everything to be all right.” As music softly filled the room, Greg bent down and lightly bit my shoulder, which used to turn me on. Now it made me tense up.
“What are you doing, Greg?” I said, ducking away from his touch. I stood and tried to walk away, but he came up behind me.
“I want you, baby,” he said. “I need you. It’s been so long.” His voice was husky as he turned me around and forced his tongue into my mouth. “Please, Felise,” he moaned. His hands went inside my pants as he grasped my behind and tried to lift me onto the kitchen table.
“Greg, don’t,” I protested.
“Come on, baby,” he said as his hands pulled at my panties.
I knew that I needed to be with my husband, but as he kissed me, I saw images of Steven lying deathly still in that bed and I yelled, “Stop it!”
Greg backed away in shock. I grabbed my underwear and pulled them up. “Just stop!”
“I’m sorry,” Greg said, stunned.
“I . . . I just can’t do it,” I cried.
We stared at each other like two strangers. “Felise, what’s going on? Have I lost you?” he said.
“No, no, it’s not that,” I replied more quietly, trying to play it off. “I’m just . . . I’m just not in the mood.”
“It’s been over a month.”
“I know, but I can’t. Why can’t you understand?” I snapped.
“I have been understanding!” he snapped back. “I understood the night my wife stormed out and spent the night somewhere else. I’m understanding every time I touch you and you flinch like I disgust you. I understand that you haven’t looked me in the eye since our anniversary. Was that our breaking point? Did I lose you that night?”
I adjusted my scrubs and tried to calmly reply. “You’re overreacting, Greg. I have a lot on my plate right now.”
He huffed as he ran his hands over his head. “Okay, Felise. Whatever.”
I inhaled. Exhaled. “Why don’t we sit down and eat?” I glanced at the counter by the stove. He’d made blackened tilapia and garlic mashed potatoes. “The food looks delicious.”
“You eat it,” he growled. “I’ve lost my appetite.” He grabbed his cell phone and headed upstairs.
31
Paula
I HEARD THE DOORBELL RINGING, but I couldn’t move to answer it. I hoped my mom or sister did because right then the only thing that mattered was this piece of paper in front of me. I sat on the sofa, tears trickling down my cheeks as the paper shook in my hand. I didn’t realize how unsteady my hand was until I saw the paper waving back and forth.
“Hey,” Felise said, walking into the living room. I’d had Charlene call her as soon as I opened this. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head but didn’t say anything. I didn’t know if I’d ever be okay again. I didn’t know if my family would ever be okay again.
Felise eased onto the sofa next to me. “What’s going on?”
I mutely handed her the piece of paper.
She read the top line. “ ‘Death Certificate.’ ”
We sat in silence as she scanned the rest of the paper. I could’ve told her what it said because in the hour and a half since I’d received it, I’d committed each word to memory. According to this piece of paper, my husband was officially gone. Stricken from the records of the living, ripped from our lives by heart failure.
“Well,” Felise said, folding the paper in half, “not that it’s any consolation, but now you know.” She handed the paper back to me. “Now you know without a doubt what happened.”
“Well, I know the official cause of death, but I still have so many unanswered questions,” I managed to mumble. “What if my asking him for a divorce stressed him out so that he had a heart attack? That would mean I killed him.”
She patted my hand. “That’s absurd. You didn’t kill your husband. And you probably will always have questions about his death. But it’s time to let him go.”
“I keep trying to tell her that.” I looked up to see my sister, who had appeared in the doorway. “But she keeps talking about how A plus B isn’t equaling C,” Charlene added as she walked in.