Surrogate For My Best Friend's Man

1. Alisha

ALISHA

Iused to think love was enough, and not that Instagram love either, or the kind where folks post matching outfits every other week, write long captions about finding their forever person, and got everybody in the comments talking about “relationship goals.” Then six months later they posting healing quotes, talking about protecting their peace and learning how to love themselves again.

Nah, I’m talking about real love. The kind you build from the ground up.

The kind where you ride for somebody even when they getting on your last damn nerve.

The kind where y’all choose each other every day, even when life starts throwing punches.

The kind where loyalty ain’t even a question because why would it be?

That’s what I thought me and Deuce had. Matter of fact, maybe that’s why this shit was bothering me so much.

Because sitting across from my husband that morning, watching him scroll through his phone like he was waiting on a text from God himself, I felt something I couldn’t ignore, it was the distance and that shit sneaks into a relationship and makes itself comfortable before you even realize it’s there if you’re not paying attention, but I pay attention to everything.

Distance between you and someone you love could have you sitting right across from them wondering where the hell they went and lately that’s exactly how I was feeling.

“Hellooo,” I shouted trying to get his attention. “I know damn well you not deaf.”

He didn’t answer right away, nigga didn’t even blink. He just kept tapping his screen like whatever was in that phone mattered more than the woman sitting across from him… the woman he married.

That should’ve been my first red flag, niggas don’t wake up one day and start acting different for no damn reason. Something be going on every single time whether it’s another woman, money problems, stress, guilt, or some shit they ain’t ready to talk about it’s always something.

A few more seconds went by before he finally dragged his attention away from that damn phone. The way this man looked at me, you’d think I was somebody who stopped him at a gas station asking for directions instead of the woman he married, and that shit didn’t sit right with me at all.

“My bad, baby,” he said, giving me that half-smile that used to make me blush. “What you say?”

I looked at him for a second because truth be told, I was trying to see how much bullshit was about to come out his mouth before breakfast. Because lately every time I asked that man a simple question, he acted like he was being interrogated by the FBI.

“I said Brittany got a doctor’s appointment tomorrow,” I repeated slowly. “You told me you were coming.”

He leaned back in his chair, stretching like the conversation was already aggravating him. “I got a meeting,” he said with no hesitation in his voice.

“A meeting?” I repeated, raising a brow. “You ain’t mention nothing about that yesterday.”

“It just came up,” he replied, grabbing his coffee like that was the end of it.

That was another thing about Deuce, he always had some slick shit to say. It didn’t matter if it made sense or not, he’d come up with something quick enough to make you second guess yourself if you weren’t paying attention. Too bad for his ass because I was paying attention.

“Funny how shit always ‘just comes up’ when it comes to me and Brittany,” I said.

Instead of answering, he messed around with his coffee that told me everything I needed to know. When a nigga was telling the truth, the answer came quick. It’s when they start stalling and doing all that extra shit that you need to start paying attention too.

“It ain’t like that, Alisha,” he said. “You know when business call, I gotta handle it.”

I looked at him because if I heard the word business one more damn time, I was liable to slap his ass. Business had become his answer for everything and honestly that shit was getting old.

There goes that “end of discussion” voice he liked to pull out whenever he ain’t feel like explaining himself. Years ago, I probably would’ve let it go, but now that shit just made me want to ask more questions.

“I know you handle business,” I said. “You remind me every damn chance you get, but last time I checked, you got a wife and a daughter too.”

He looked dead in my eyes and for a second, I saw the guilt clear as day. I already knew his ass wasn’t about to admit shit, so I didn’t even waste my breath asking.

“Don’t do that,” he said, grabbing his keys. As soon as a conversation started getting too close to the truth, suddenly it was time for him to leave.

“I’m not doing nothing,” I said. “I’m asking for consistency.”

“You acting like I don’t ever show up.”

I looked at him; this nigga was missing the whole point. “No,” I said. “I’m acting like you’ve been on some different shit lately.”

The silence is what got me, because if I was so wrong, why he ain’t correcting me? Why he ain’t saying nothing? Instead, he headed for the door.

“I’ll make it up to her.”

Of course that was always the plan, make it up later, fix it later, talk later. Meanwhile, the damage was already done. I watched him walk out and he didn’t look back. He didn't do none of the little things he normally did.

And maybe that doesn’t sound like much, but when you’ve been with somebody long enough, you notice when they stop doing the shit that used to come naturally.

The second the door closed, I sighed because some shit wasn’t adding up.

And whether I liked it or not, my mind had already started putting pieces together.

“Mommy!”

Brittany’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and just like that, my entire mood softened. I turned just in time to see her come running into the kitchen, her little curls bouncing with every step.

“Morning, baby,” I said, opening my arms.

Brittany came flying right into ’em like she ain’t seen me in weeks. “I’m hungry.”

I laughed because that little girl stayed ready to eat. She could tear up a whole plate, then be asking what’s next before I even sat down.

“You're full of energy this morning,” I said, kissing the top of her head. “Mama baby must have slept good last night.”

She pulled back and threw her little hands on her hips. “I’m a big girl.”

The way she said it, you’d think she was paying bills on the east side and arguing with DTE. “I know you are, so what we eating?”

“Pancakes.” She answered so quickly it was like she already had the order locked in.

“Pancakes it is.” I let her know.

While I was in the kitchen making breakfast, Brittany sat at the table talking my ear off about everything and nothing all at once.

I threw in a few nods and “mm-hmms,” but to be honest, my mind was somewhere else.

I’m glad the doctor’s office called to reschedule Brittany’s doctor’s appointment until next week.

Deuce kept sliding back into my thoughts along with that weird feeling in my gut that something was off.

No matter how much I tried to focus on Brittany, that feeling wouldn’t leave me alone.

Every few minutes I’d find myself looking toward the front door.

Like somehow it was gone explain why my husband had been acting so damn strange lately, but it didn’t.

By the time the pancakes were done, Brittany was halfway out of her seat waiting on her plate.

I fixed it and baby girl went to work. She was tearing them pancakes up so fast you’d think I had her on punishment from food.

After breakfast, I got us dressed and left the house.

Like always, Brittany was excited about daycare.

Baby girl practically skipped inside every morning.

Meanwhile, I sat in the parking lot looking crazy for a minute after I dropped her off. Just sitting there thinking, the whole ride there, my mind had been replaying everything.

I kept trying to figure out when exactly the energy shifted. When did he get so distant? When did talking to me start feeling like a chore? When did I start feeling like I had to pay attention to every little thing my husband said? The more I thought about it, the more irritated I got.

Because nothing was adding up, that's when I did what I always do when I needed somebody to help me make sense of some bullshit. I called Shante and she picked up before the second ring even finished.

“Girl, what’s up?” she answered.

I rolled my eyes. Only Shante could sound fully activated this early. “Why do you always answer the phone like you're already in somebody's business?”

“Because nine times outta ten, I am,” she laughed. “Now what’s wrong? I can hear it all in your voice.”

That’s why she was my person, I didn’t have to say much she just knew. “I don’t know,” I admitted, leaning back in my seat. “Something off with Deuce.”

There was a pause on the other end. “What you mean ‘off’?” she asked.

I frowned slightly, because she jumped straight into defending him.

That was her brother and no matter how close we were blood was blood.

“Like he distracted,” I said. “Distant, he been canceling on important shit and he be ignoring me like he is somewhere else even when he is right in front of me.”

“Well… you know how he gets when business picking up,” she said finally.

I closed my eyes briefly, because she was being real fucking annoying. “Yeah,” I mumbled. “Maybe.”

But if I’m being real, I wasn’t buying what Shante was selling and that bothered me.

Because me and Shante weren't just friends, that was my dog, my sister.

We go way back before me and Deuce got serious, before the marriage, before Brittany and before life got complicated and everybody started having secrets.