James Henderson: Family Thang

Lester stood up and she saw the frown on his unmarked face. The doctor had done a remarkably good job, not even a hint of a scar.

“Lester, I want to come home. Please! I’m not the selfish woman I was. I’ve grown up. I didn’t realize what I had—what we had—until I lost it. Lester, let me come home. Please! Don’t make me beg.”

“Okay,” Lester said. She stood up and moved to hug him. Lester stopped her short with an outstretched hand. “You can come back. I won’t be here.”

“What? What are you saying?”

“Apparently you haven’t gotten the papers yet. I filed for divorce, Ruth Ann.”

Struck dizzy, she fought the need to sit down. “No, Lester! Divorce is not the answer. Not after twenty years of marriage. Are you willing to throw everything away? All we’ve worked hard to get? Because of a little…” She saw the brick wall and applied the brakes.

“A little what? A little affair?”

“I was wrong! I admit it. I was wrong! But I don’t think we should throw away all we worked so hard to get. Not without a fight! Don’t we owe ourselves another try? Let’s give it one more try, Lester. One more! This time I’ll do the heavy lifting. Promise! I won’t let you down. Promise!”

Lester took a long time to respond. “Sorry, Ruth Ann, it’s over. You can have the house and everything else except my truck.”

“You’ll continue paying for everything, won’t you?” The sharp arch of one eye and the twitching of the other indicated a definitive no. “I can’t pay for it!”

“Guess you’ll have to get a job.”

“A job! In this economy? No one will hire me at my age, no track record whatsoever! I won’t let you do this to me, Lester. I’ll contest the divorce.”

“Ruth Ann, please! You’re still young, attractive; you’ll find someone else to take care of you in no time.”

“An insult, Lester. A damn insult! I don’t want someone else, I want you. Nobody else. Nobody but you! You , Lester! My husband.” She crossed to him and took his hands in hers. “I love you, Lester.”

“That’s nice,” Lester said.

She looked him straight in the eye and squeezed his hands. “Baby, honey, sugar, stop this crazy talk. Give me one more chance.” She tiptoed and kissed his lips. Lester didn’t respond. “One chance to show you how much I love you.” She kissed him again, searching for his tongue. He didn’t allow her entrance. “Let me right this wrong, Lester.”

He freed his hands and gently pushed her back. “I’ve met someone else.” He massaged his temples. “We’re thinking about getting married.”

Another dizzy spell descended on her. “Are you kidding me? Tell me you’re kidding me.” He shook his head. “You gotta be kidding me! I haven’t been gone three months. You’re telling me you met someone within three months and now you’re talking marriage. You know how crazy you sound? Who? Who is she?”

“I don’t think you know her.”

“She from here? Dawson? I hope you thought enough of me not to mess with somebody I know. What’s her name?”

“Darlene Pryor.”

Ruth Ann frowned, trying to place the name. She didn’t know her, yet the name rang a bell. “You’re right, I don’t know her. Where does she live?”

“She lives next door to Shirley. She was at the wedding.”

The room started spinning faster and faster. She staggered to the couch and collapsed onto it. “What did she wear to the wedding?”

“A green dress.”

Ruth Ann swooned and thought she would be sick. “Long braids?” Lester nodded, and Ruth Ann shook her head. “It’s not real, Lester. I bet you a million dollars her hair isn’t real!”

“Yeah, well, I got to go. I’ll come by tomorrow and get my things.”

Ruth Ann sat up to wage a last-ditch effort. “Lester… honey… she’ll break your heart. Fake women wear fake hair. You’ll never be able to trust her. She’s a child, Lester, looking for a sugar daddy to take care of her.”

Lester started for the door. Ruth Ann sprang to her feet, crossed the room in three steps and grabbed his arm just as he was opening the screen door.

“You’re pulling on me again, Ruth Ann.”

She released him. “Lester, don’t I deserve one last chance?”

A red-white-and-blue van rode by in the street, a loud speaker announcing, “Ice cream! Snow cones! Bomb pops!”

Lester watched it disappear around the corner before turning to her. “If you answer one question honestly, I’ll…I will consider one more try.”

“What, honey, what? Do I love you? Yes, I do. I most certainly do!”

“No, that’s not what I want to ask you.” He looked her straight in the eye, and she forced herself not to blink. “Was Eric the first?”

She looked away. The million dollar question. “The first what?”

“You know.”

She met his eyes briefly. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Then who’s Shane’s father? He’s not mine and he’s not Eric’s. Who?”

A cough itched her throat. “Two questions, Lester,” showing him two fingers. “Two! You said one.”

“Who is Shane’s father?”

She met his eyes, and though hers were blinking rapidly, she held his gaze. “You,” she mumbled. “You’re his father, Lester.”

Lester stared at her for a minute, his expression as blank as a sheet of paper. He gave her a quick peck on her forehead, walked out the door, got into his truck and drove away without once looking back.