Chapter 3 Raya
Raya
Brent Faiyaz croons through the speakers of my new Mercedes—a gift from my amazing husband.
It’s only three months old, and just as pretty as the day he pulled it into the driveway. Ace wanted to wait for Christmas, but he was too excited to wait to get me out of my old beat up Corolla.
I’m not supposed to let the engine idle. Ace told me that. I don’t know shit about cars, and that was on a list he gave me of things to do and not do. I’m also not supposed to let my tank get below half-full without telling him so he can fill it for me, but here I am, idling with a quarter tank.
Across the parking lot sits Twinkle Toes, the dance studio Aniya attends for her ballet classes. I hate that I can’t see in the windows at the front of the studio. They have pink curtains hanging there to deter the weirdos, I guess.
So I have to wait for her to come out to see her. She always looks so adorable in her little leotard and tights. That stank ass attitude still ain’t cute, but that’s just who she is.
It’s been a few months since I’ve seen her, and I had a little time to kill after my last class got out early, so here I am. Just checking on the little hellion.
I took ballet once. I don’t remember how old I was, and it didn’t last longer than a season, but I vividly remember my mother doing her best to slick my thick hair into a bun, and I recall first and second position and even my small part in the recital.
I don’t remember why I quit.
I’ve never been the type to stick with things, I guess.
A man catches my eye. He’s just walked out of the studio with his eyes glued to his phone. It takes me a second to realize it’s Aniya’s father. Sisco.
I quickly turn my music down and crack my window so I can hear the conversation he just started. I have to strain, he’s talking so low.
I know that sound.
That’s the sound of a man that’s cupcaking.
Nice to know him and Nevaeh are still keeping the fires burning.
But I don’t know…something about this feels off. This isn’t a quick update to let her know what time he’ll be home, or dinner logistics, or some other boring domestic bullshit. His voice is too soft for that. And too careful.
He angles his body away from the glass doors and smiles.
He smiles.
I lean in, still straining.
“I can’t talk,” he says. A pause. A quiet chuckle. “Nah. I’m with my daughter.”
And there it is.
My breath hitches.
“Tomorrow, probably.” He licks his lips. “I know. I miss you, too.”
Oh, no.
My heart is racing now. I lean back in my seat, my eyes narrowing.
The confirmation lands hard. My hands curl in my lap, my fingers clenched so tight, my nails bite into my skin. I don’t move as I watch him end the call and stuff his phone in the back pocket of his jeans as he heads back inside the studio. I just think.
I think about Aniya, mostly, and how she’ll feel when this all blows up. Because it will. It always does. Men love to blow shit up. They don’t think about all of the collateral damage. All they do is let themselves be led around by their dicks.
And they always think they’re discreet, too. Like they’re fooling somebody. They think the lies disappear if they whisper them softly enough.
He has no idea he's been seen.
I’m not quite as pissed off about this as I would be if this were my family, but I’m still mad enough that I feel the anger simmering right underneath my skin.
It feels hot and insistent, and I know the burn won’t go away until I make it go away.
It’s spreading through me like wildfire coursing through my veins.
But it’s okay.
I can fix this.
Before I do, though, I think about my husband.
Ace doesn’t know anything about this, and I lowkey feel like he’d see the fact that I didn’t tell him about this as a lie by omission.
In my eyes, it’s none of his business what I do when we aren’t together, but that’s not how a wife is supposed to think.
We’re supposed to share everything, probably.
So I’m not gonna do anything that would sound too crazy if he found out. I have to be rational about this.
I won’t act until I’m certain, which means I need more information. Is this a momentary lapse, or a full blown affair? These are the questions that need answers. Once I have those, then I’ll move.
I pull out of the lot in my new car, smiling to myself as I think of all the different ways I can hurt Sisco.