questioning myself over and over as to whether I should go through with
popping in on Ian. Maybe he isn’t really foolin’ around with this Maria
woman. Could I be reading more into this than is really there? Am I being
overly paranoid? I could be but something’s keeping my hands on the wheel
and foot on the pedal! If there’s nothing going on, then I’ll finally get a
chance to meet this person who cleans my house and is allergic to my dog. If
there is something going on, well . . .“Surprise, Ian! Guess who’s home!”
* * *
Driving into the garage of my building, I see Ian’s car right away. I knew it!
Why is he home? He went out of the door right behind me this morning.
What reason does he have to be home while the place is being cleaned?
After all, the building supervisor lets the cleaning lady in, supposedly. I
wonder how many Tuesdays he’s been home while she’s here... while I’m
working and appreciating that he cares enough to lift some of the burden off
me by hiring help. And what do I get? Son of a bitch, I get my caring man
screwing the maid!
I see several cars as I pull into the garage, but I don’t know what she drives
so I can’t tell if she’s here. Since she wears such nice jewelry, she’s probably
driving that black BMW next to Ian’s red one. “Well, here I go,” I say to
myself, walking towards the door.
As I get closer, the music coming from inside is so loud that I can’t really make
out what song is playing. Slowly easing the door open, I recognize it clearly,
“Do Me Baby,” by Meli’sa Morgan. No the hell he isn’t! My heart is beating
super fast and my hands are starting to shake. If this bitch is screwing my
man, in my house, in my bed, I’ll have to kick her ass and then start on his.
I slam the door but whoever’s inside obviously doesn’t hear me. Maybe Ian’s
home alone, listening to music, chillin’ out and thinking about this morning,
and maybe, just maybe, he was serious about us talking later.
I still don’t see any signs of anyone being here – no pocketbook, no cleaning
supplies, no nothing. Hold up. Where’s Snoopy? Dammit! He must be in his
cage, because normally he’d be jumping up on me by now. That bitch must be
here.
Heading towards the stairs, I hear one of my favorite songs begin playing –
“UHH-AHH” by Boyz II Men. That’s the song that was playing when Ian and I
hooked up that night after the LL Cool J concert. Damn, I’m almost at the top
of stairs, and I still don’t hear anyone. Could it be that I’ve completely over-
exaggerated this whole thing? Should I turn around and leave? How would I
explain coming home? What would I say? Hey honey, I just came home to spy
on you. I don’t think so . . .I’m leaving. I’m going back to work and when I
come home tonight we can talk like Ian said we would.
What was that? I stop and listen. I hear movement but no talking. Don’t tell
me this man is here alone, listening to romantic music and jerking off. Why
would he do that? I was home earlier, trying to be sexed, and he basically
brushed me off – and that wasn’t the first time he’s turned me down. Why
would he have to pleasure himself? Oh, I can’t stand here trying to figure it
out. I have to go see.
Oh shit! Standing in the bedroom door, I cannot believe what’s happening in
front of me. I’m stuck in this spot and what’s worse is, it’s like I’m witnessing
this in slow motion. I gasp for air as I grab my stomach. It feels like
everything I’ve eaten since the day before is working its way back up my
throat. I don’t know whether to scream, run or just cry; I don’t know what to
do. All of my emotions are frozen, along with my feet, and not to mention my
voice. How could he do such a thing? He’s definitely crossed the line! Why
me? What did I do to deserve this? I’ve been sleeping with this man. I
wonder how long this has been going on and how many times have I slept
with him since then – maybe even on the same day? Oh God, I’m gonna throw
up!
He’s so engrossed in what he’s doing that he hasn’t even noticed me
standing here. The damn music is so loud that he didn’t even hear me
walking in the room or me gasping at the sight of him.
Oh! I can’t take it anymore. I have to get out of here. On second thought,
why should I leave? He’s the man, and a diabolical one at that! He should be
the one to leave.
I turn back around with tears rolling down my face. “Get the hell out! Get the
fuck up off my bed and get the hell out!”
Startled, Ian tries to speak. “Ashlei!”
“Don’t bother, you nasty motherfucker! Just leave!” Everything that could be
said has been. “Just get all your shit and get out!” I don’t know whether he
understands me, because I’m screaming at the top of my lungs. I’m crying
and my entire body is shaking – I think I’m hyperventilating.
I don’t feel like it’s necessary to get all hyped and start fighting at this point.
This is not a battle that I want to win. It’s bad enough that he’s cheating on
me, but this is inexcusable. I just want him to be gone so I can be alone in my
misery and accept my defeat. I think to myself . . .
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