Chapter 2 Jamaica
“Jamie, get up.” I knocked hard on the door. “Get off that game.”
His voice sounded muffled, and I opened the door.
As I thought, he had his game console and headphones on, still under the covers, wearing his Black Panther t-shirt.
I had to stand in front of the TV to get his attention.
“Get dressed, or you’re walking to school.
” I glanced around his cluttered space. “I thought I asked you to pick up in here?”
Jamie tried to look around me to see the TV, and I reached to take off the headphones. He ducked, and I tried again as he twisted away from me. “Ma,” he groaned in exasperation.
“I’m serious. I don’t have time to wait around for you.
” I snatched his beloved Beats off his head and placed them around my neck.
“Get up, now, or these are mine.” I kicked a pair of his Adidas toward the closet.
“You need to clean up in here. I swear to God, you live like a straight pig. Everything is a mess.”
Suddenly, little arms wrapped around my waist, reminding me of warmth and light. I looked down at my youngest. “Hey, my baby.”
“Hey, Mommy.” A vanilla brown face grinned up at me, his two front teeth finally growing back. I wasn’t quite ready for my baby to be a boy, and I lovingly rubbed his back as he proudly claimed, “I’m dressed and ready for school, and you didn’t even have to wake me up.”
Jamie frowned and swung his lanky legs over the side of the bed. “See, he can get up and dress himself, Ma. Stop calling him a baby.”
KJ only hugged me tighter and peeked around my waist at his brother to say, “I’m always her baby.”
He grunted and reached for his clothes, which I’d laid out for him at the bottom of the bed the night before. Holding up a pair of jeans, he complained, “I wanted to wear my black khakis today.”
“Oh, that’s all I needed to hear.” I pretended to wipe my hands. “Please, start getting your own clothes together at night. You’re fourteen and way too big for me to choose your clothes anyway.”
“Like me, Mommy?” KJ rested his cheek against my side. “I picked out my own outfit.”
Jamie scoffed. “You wear uniforms. You only have one choice.”
“At least he’s dressed.” I countered. “Get up, now.”
“Babe, where’s my salad?” My husband called from the kitchen.
I’d left him asleep in bed while I prepared for the morning with our children.
He could sleep as long as he wanted since we owned a small construction company and he had his own schedule to keep.
Lately, he’d been gone more than he’d been at home, claiming that entrepreneurship required long, grueling hours until we’d built up our account to take care of needs, wants, emergencies, and aspirations.
“I had to bake cookies for KJ and work on payroll and applying for the land grant that you were too busy to finish last night, remember? I didn’t have time to make your salad.
” I replied and gestured angrily to my oldest son to get dressed as I headed back down the hall with KJ still attached to me, making walking difficult.
Of course, he thought it was hilarious and giggled as we made it to the kitchen.
After a disapproving frown from his father, who stood by the open refrigerator door, KJ quickly released me and sat at the glass kitchen table designed for four. I walked to our son and kissed his forehead before placing Jamie’s headphones on the table.
“Stop babying him,” Kody demanded quietly.
“Stop being mean.” I retorted.
“KJ, am I mean to you?” Kody closed the refrigerator and moved to stand over our son. “Your mama thinks I’m too hard on you. What do you think?”
The wide smile from earlier disappeared as he looked at me for the right answer.
He barked, “Don’t look at her when I’m asking you a question. It’s a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ response.”
I touched his forearm gently. “Leave him alone, Kody. He’s seven. Of course, he’s looking at me for the right answer. You just fussed at him. That’s what children do when they’re confused, nervous, or scared.”
“And he’s all three,” Jamie commented as he walked into the room with baggy jeans and an Anime t-shirt.
Not the outfit I’d chosen at all. He wore his hair in wild twists that his father hated, and I adored.
He slammed his Beats on his ears and sat down to gobble up the oatmeal and wheat toast I’d prepared for everyone.
“Did anyone ask your opinion?” Kody scowled. “Looking like a thrown-away child. I should’ve kept you in that private school where dress codes are enforced. Don’t even know why you care so much about going to the same janky school as we did.”
“He can’t hear you with those noise-cancelling earphones on his head.
And I think it’s an honor that he wants to attend the same high school that we did.
It’s the same janky school full of teachers who actually cared about black and brown kids.
The same janky school that educated us and helped a generation get out of poverty.
Most of us went to college following graduation.
Did you forget that I’m in charge of our 15th class reunion?
Of course, you did.” I stomped to the refrigerator and pulled out ingredients for his salad.
Kody would annoy and bother us all if I didn’t go ahead and prepare his lunch.
It was my fault. I spoiled them all. They were my boys, even the big one who couldn’t seem to connect to his sons.
I always had to intervene or soften his tone when he spoke to them.
Our marriage counselor had advised us not to check each other in front of the children.
As much as I tried, sometimes his wicked tongue or his harsh tone provoked me to correct him while soothing our sons.
When I’d first told Kody that I didn’t believe in whippings or spankings, we argued for days.
He soon learned that I was serious. Once, when Jamie was three, and he knocked over his grape juice, staining the carpet, Kody spanked his legs.
I snatched Jamie from him, and I kicked Kody out of our bedroom until he agreed not to touch him or any future children.
I’d seen the impact of abuse when I dated Freedom, and though I didn’t believe that corporal punishment was abuse, it was a slippery slope if a parent lost control of his temper.
“And the 10th reunion wasn’t enough? No one told you to volunteer when we already have shitloads of work to do and a family to raise.
You’re always stretching yourself too thin trying to help when we need you more.
” Kody’s cell rang, and he glanced down at the phone in his hand.
The edges of his mouth curved before he quickly walked out of the kitchen. “Left my tie.”
I closed my eyes and gripped the knife tighter as I diced the tomato for his salad. He promised me.
“Ma…you good?” Jamie called from across the room.
I pasted a smile and then looked over my shoulder. “Yeah.”
His eyes narrowed before he glanced toward the hall, and his nostrils flared.
The ever observant Jamie was an introvert, as I had been when I was his age.
As far as I knew, he didn’t have friends except for the ones he met while playing his video games.
He walked the halls of Oak Valley High with his Beats firmly planted on his ears and around his neck during classes.
A part of him wanted to fit in. Saw it in the longing of his eyes when his younger brother, who had this infectious energy and personality, drew people to him effortlessly.
The other part walked his own path with defiance.
Either you vibed with Jamie, or you didn’t, was his response when I once asked him about friends.
And he and I flowed like the river.
My son was also attuned to me in ways no one else had ever been.
Except.
I quickly banished the thought as soon as his crooked smile flashed across my mind. I had no time for foolish fantasies about a man who left me without looking back.
“Are you sure?” Jamie pushed off his Beats, a determined gleam in his eyes, ready to come to my defense or aid.
He loved Kody. He just loved me more. Although we’d never spoken of Kody’s affair with our boys, I wouldn’t be surprised if Jamie knew.
Maybe even knew before I did, since his teacher from his former school had been the other woman involved with his father.
Maybe that was the real reason he insisted on transferring schools for the ninth grade.
“Yes.” I turned back around. “Finish eating. We’re leaving in three minutes.”
“Okay,” KJ said with a full mouth. “I’m almost done.”
“You’re spitting food everywhere,” Jamie complained. “Why do I have to keep reminding you not to talk with food in your mouth?”
“Mommy, he’s the mean one. Not Daddy.” He whined before yelling, “Ouch. He pinched me.”
“Leave your brother alone, Jamie.” I placed an apple, a container of salad and ranch dressing, and Doritos in a black lunch bag. “I’m going to grab my cell. Meet you in the car.”
Worried knots twisted my stomach as I strode toward our bedroom at the back of our home.
When we found this house seven years ago, we’d joked about wanting our bedroom to be away from our tiny listening ears so we could have loud sex or arguments.
Lately, it had been silent. No sex. No fighting.
A quiet indifference. Marriage therapy only amplified our troubles, and we’d retreated to our respective sides of the bed to avoid arguing or talking about his betrayal.
The faucet ran behind the closed door of the bathroom when I walked in.
I picked up my purse and cell and tiptoed to the door.
I could hear the rumble of his voice, but couldn’t make out his words.
He was hiding something or someone. The knots coiled tighter, and I turned away from the door, wondering when the lies would come to light again.
Last summer, he had a fling with Jamie’s history teacher.
She called me one night and confessed. Instinct questioned her accusations, and instinct summarized that she’d only called, hoping to get him in trouble because he ended things.
I quietly thanked her for letting me know that she believed in breaking up homes.
She grew angry at my calm reaction and started calling me all kinds of names, trying to push my buttons.
This woman, who knowingly slept with my husband, wanted to fight me because I didn’t behave the way she probably imagined I would at Kody’s adultery.
My parents had raised me to be proud and not to lower myself to the gutter when dealing with the gutter.
So, I lied and quietly told her that she was being recorded, and if she didn’t quit her job, I would release the audio of her confession.
I also reminded her that the world would be crueler to the teacher who dealt with the married man of one of her students than to the husband who cheated on his wife.
To add further insult, I told her he’d already told me of his indiscretion and that he begged for my forgiveness because he’d fucked up badly.
Finally, I told her to stop playing on my phone and to grow the fuck up.
I hadn’t seen or heard from her since that awful phone call.
That night, when Kody came home, he stared in utter confusion at the mostly covered bed, full of his clothes and two suitcases.
I told him I knew about the affair and that I wanted a divorce.
To my surprise, my arrogant and prideful husband cried and swore he would never hurt me like that again.
Pulled out his phone and made an appointment with a marriage therapist on the spot.
And for a while, we were good.
Now, it seemed we were no longer good. Maybe we never were because our marriage began with a lie. I was in love with his best friend when I married him. Maybe this is what I deserve for lying to myself and to Kody.
Instead of confronting him, I closed our bedroom door behind me and focused on what I could control—being a good mother to my sons.
“Mrs. Griffin, do you have a second to talk?” Ms. Campbell, KJ’s second-grade teacher, peered into my window during the carpool line as KJ hopped out the back and rushed toward the school entrance.
“Um…like now?” I checked my watch. “In an hour, I have a meeting at the office.”
“Well, we sent emails and left messages with your husband, and we only have one more quarter left. My planning period is now, if you can chat.” She kindly smiled, though I saw the concern etched in her eyes.
“I’ll park and come inside.” I checked my rearview mirror before pulling out to make a U-turn. Heat flamed my neck and face. I hit the button on my car. “Call Hubby.”
“Hey, I left my lunch. Can you bring it to me?” He asked as soon as he answered.
“I’m not running back home. Order something.”
“You’re the one who’s always on me about spending.”
“Kody, no time for this. Why haven’t you been checking your emails? KJ’s teacher said she’s been sending emails about him.” I slid my Honda Pilot into the parking lot.
He grew silent, and then he replied, “Oh, it’s nothing. Just being a boy. Getting out of his seat without permission and running his mouth. Not a big deal.”
“If it’s nothing, why am I about to meet with her? And why am I finding out that you received anything at all?” I seethed. “You told me you got KJ, and I have Jamie.”
“I do. If you want me to meet with her, schedule something for later this week, and I’ll make it happen.
” He sighed, “If I thought it was important, I would’ve told you.
You know KJ is a ball of fun energy. He doesn’t mean any harm.
These teachers don’t get that black boys need the freedom to breathe, and it’s hard to sit still. ”
“You insisted that he go to this private school when he could go right around the corner from the house where they get him,” I argued.
We both valued education and helped each other through college, but he seemed more focused on image and prestige than on what was right for our sons.
The only reason he allowed Jamie to go to Oak Valley High without a fight was that he wanted to distance himself from the affair.
“I’m here now. I’ll see what she’s talking about, and if you need to come in too, I’ll let you know. ”
But when I met with his teacher, it wasn’t about his behavior.
His teacher had sent several notices about his performance.
Our son was in danger of failing the second grade, and I had no clue because I trusted my husband to do his job as a parent.
I drove back home instead of the office with angry tears falling down my cheeks.
I wasn’t in a position to pretend in front of our employees, and I didn’t care about the land grant meeting that I usually ran. I was tired of making excuses for Kody.
He’d let me down once again.