The Other Side of the Pillow

“God’s will and mercy shall prevail. Today, He spoke and gave us His blessings.”

Tevin grinned and kissed me lightly on the lips. “I agree.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

“Every love story is beautiful, but ours is my favorite.”

—Unknown

I was on medical leave for a few weeks, against my will. I was never one to sit around doing nothing and the boredom was killing me. As much as I was accustomed to watching daytime TV shows that were recorded on my DVR, watching them in real time irritated me for some reason. It meant that I had to sit through the commercials instead of skipping them and, for some reason, I hated that. Even when I was out of school for the summer, I rarely sat around during the day. I played the shows in the evening or late nig

ht when I was falling asleep.

It was amusing to me that companies were still spending millions to produce commercials and purchase airtime on television shows. A lot of them were never actually watched. Either people skipped over them with their remote, flipped channels during the ads, or had their eyes glued to laptops, cell phones, or tablets, with their attention diverted until the show started back up. Even the online ads that were placed before videos and shows online rarely got any attention. Companies really needed to realize that they had to take to social networking to really get any attention. They had to engage the consumers in contests or do something so different, amusing, or shocking that everyone would share it on their pages or retweet it.

I did catch up on some reading while I was laid up. I read several novels by Allison Hobbs, Cairo, and William Fredrick Cooper, and a couple of self-help books. The greatest room in anyone’s house is the room for improvement. But the books that I read the most of were parenting books. I definitely needed to know all about that. A mother? Wow! I was at the point in my life that I never thought it would happen for me. A mother and, if all went well, a wife.

I was still apprehensive about setting a wedding date. I had progressed somewhat by sporting the ring that Tevin had purchased me. I needed to go shopping to purchase him a wedding band at some point. I planned to get him one that matched the color tone of mine. My ankle was still sore so I tried to stay off my feet as much as possible. I was not in the best of shape since I got pregnant. I had not been going to the gym or doing any real form of exercise. I was becoming too lazy and complacent. As soon as I had Tevin Jr., I planned to reclaim my body and become fly all over again.

I was scanning the Internet one afternoon and ran across a blog written by a man. Rarely did I agree with much that men said about life. It was hard to relate, not being one. But this blog really caught my attention. It was written by a thirty-year-old man who had been with his wife since he was seventeen, and had been married to her for eight years. They had several children and he was under the impression that he might lose her.

He felt like he was not good enough for her, like she had outgrown him over the years. He had to admit that he might have tried to keep her pregnant in order to keep her in his life. They had nine children. But while she normally would get herself back together—losing weight, reading, perfecting her hair and makeup, dressing good, smelling good—he had always felt that it was for his benefit. He sensed something was different this time—like she was doing it for herself and that she would eventually leave him, even if it were not specifically for another man.

He said that if she were single and he met her now, she never would have given him the time of day. That she would only be interested in men who had themselves more together, men who were on her level both physically and financially. He was making excuses for why he had not achieved more.

Then it came down to the truth, slipped nonchalantly into the last paragraph. A couple of years before, he had cheated on her and she had forgiven him. That was what it came down to. It was different this time around after childbirth. He didn’t think she had actually gotten over his shit and that caring so much for herself meant that she would likely feel like she deserved better than a man who would disrespect her like that.

He was definitely onto something. I immediately thought of Courtney and what she would do if she found out that Floyd was cheating on her. Even though Courtney had “elected” to be a stay-at-home mother and wife, she was brilliant and attractive and any man would be blessed to have her. She took care of herself—spiritually and physically—and her clothes, hair, and makeup were all always on point. Courtney was thebomb.com and she really did not deserve the shit that Floyd was doing to her.

Ever since Tevin had “slipped” and told me the truth, I had fought a never-ending war within myself over whether or not to tell her the truth. The way I looked at it, the outcome had a few possibilities. Courtney could tell Floyd to kiss her ass and file for divorce immediately. Courtney could decide to stay and suggest marital counseling. Courtney could pretend like it never happened and stay for her kids, but never trust Floyd again.

There was one other possibility. That Courtney could curse me out because she already knew, or at least suspected, that he had cheated once, or was a habitual cheater. I decided that I would try to feel her out before I said anything. Then again, I was not one to play games.

Shit! I wish he’d never told me!

It was one of those “your ears must’ve been burning” moments. As soon as I finished that thought, my cell phone started ringing. It was Courtney.

“Hey, girl,” I said into the phone.

“What you know good?” she replied. “Just calling to check on you. See if you needed anything. The kids and I can drop by and bring you whatever you need. Or I can get a sitter and come keep you company for a while.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet, but I’m fine. Just watching a bunch of television, reading tons of stuff, and sleeping way too damn much.”

“There’s no such thing as sleeping too much when you’re pregnant.”

“What about eating too much? I am eating like ten men.”

We both laughed.

“Girl, do you,” Courtney said. “That’s part of the joy of pregnancy. You have a valid excuse to go buck wild and throw down six times a day if you want.”

“Yeah, but if I get too fat, Tevin is going to have to roll me out the door and to the hospital when I go into labor.”

She giggled. “Talk about exaggerating. I bet you haven’t put on ten pounds yet.”

“Try twenty-six.”

“Twenty-six? Must be all tits and ass because it’s damn sure not in your stomach.”