PullMyHair Page 6

  Liza felt tears sting her eyes at her friend’s words. From hilarity to melancholy in a matter of minutes.

  She was a hot mess.

  But Karina was right. If she couldn’t trust her husband, who could she trust? She said goodbye to Karina and gently hung up the phone and thought about what she’d said. She glanced over at the bedside clock and sighed long and hard. But how could she fully trust him, no matter how much he loved him, if he refused to put her first? She obviously wasn’t a priority in his life.

  * * * * *

  Greg glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of his office and cursed out loud. He hadn’t meant to stay so long.

  After Liza left the office, he’d gone out to see if Renita was in her office and wasn’t surprised when he’d found her gone. She’d obviously known he wouldn’t need her assistance while Liza was there and had given them privacy. She’d left a note on her desk telling him to call her if he needed her.

  He should have been gone hours ago. In all actuality, he had wrapped up the loose ends and could have left the office earlier. But he wasn’t ready to go home. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he went home and Liza wasn’t prepared to talk. He’d all but given her an ultimatum. Either they open up to one another or…

  Or what? It wasn’t like he’d leave her. He loved her too damn much to imagine life without her.

  And he shared with Liza the burden of blame. He had his fair share of responsibility for why they were at a crossroad in the marriage. Lately he’d been working longer hours and taking on a heavier caseload and spending less time with her.

  He needed to go home and talk to his wife. He rose in preparation of leaving, gathering his documents for the case as he cleared his desk and got ready to leave his office. As he lifted his briefcase from the corner of his desk, he was surprised when his door opened and Renita walked inside.

  “Oh, Greg I’m sorry. I assumed you had already gone home with Mrs. Colburn. I came back to file these briefs and to work on a few things for the Grimes case.” Renita said, the surprise in her dark eyes genuine.

  “Renita, I thought you’d gone home when Liza came by earlier. There was no need for you to return, I’ve taken care of the updates for the brief. Why don’t you go on back home. It’s past ten o’clock.”

  “I don’t mind working. I know this is paramount right now. I’m dedicated to this case. You know that Greg,” she said.

  Greg looked her in the eyes, and felt a moment’s hesitation, as he saw something in Renita’s eyes that told him that maybe there was more to her dedication to this case than what was on the surface. He dismissed it from his mind, not wanting to go there in his imagination. Renita was a beautiful woman, and he was having enough problems with his life without complicating things.

  “There’s a such thing as too much dedication,” was all that he said.

  When she raised an eyebrow he laughed, “I should know. Lately, Liza has been telling me that my dedication to the practice is out of whack with my dedication for her,” he said, his thoughts once again on his situation.

  “Well, I don’t think Mrs. Colburn knows a good thing when she has it. You’re dedication and passion is what makes you who you are. Without either one you wouldn’t be the man that you are.”

  He wouldn’t be human if he didn’t admit that her words were a stroke to his ego. The collar on his shirt suddenly felt tight and he forced himself not to unbutton the top two buttons as he mumbled a thank you.

  * * * * *

  Liza came out of a sound sleep to feel Greg’s big hands touching her, pulling her body close to his chest as he slid the straps of her negligee from her shoulders. He placed a warm kiss in the hollow where her shoulder and neck met as the gown slid down her breasts.

  In the in-between stages of sleep and wakefulness, she allowed him to play and kiss her nape, even moving her head to the side to give him better access to her sensitive spot. It was several minutes of light lovemaking until she came to awareness and opened one sleepy eye to glance at the small clock radio on her side table. When she noted the time, she felt her entire body go rigid before she sat up in bed and turned sleepy, furious eyes in his direction.

  “Oh no the hell you don’t, Greg.”

  “Don’t be angry Li, it’s been a long night.”

  “Night?” she asked, her voice rising, the fogginess from sleep evaporating as she glanced at the time again. “Try morning, Greg. It’s one o’clock in the morning. Where the hell have you been?”

  He sat up in bed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Where do you think I’ve been?”

  “I’m assuming the office. Working on the case. With Renita,” she added the last bit and raised an eyebrow.

  He chose that moment to move his head and the light from the bright moon showed the red flush that covered his lower jaw, and Liza felt her stomach drop with sudden pain.

  “Liza, we were working. Please,” she heard the exasperation in his voice and barely refrained from punching him in the chest. Hard. “Renita is a great paralegal and I’m lucky to have her work for me. But that’s all there is to the relationship.”

  When he reached out for her to pull her close, she snatched her body away and moved as far away from him as possible. So far away that she damn near fell off the bed. She yanked the blanket to her chin and refused to even bother answering his comment about how wonderful a paralegal Renita was. She wasn’t liable for her actions if she did.

  She heard him sigh deeply and moments later she felt the mattress shift as he moved his body into another position. A peek over her shoulder told her that he too had turned his back to her as he settled.

  She turned around; ignoring the sting of tears threatening to break free and closed her eyes before falling into a restless sleep.

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning, Liza woke early to find Greg had already risen from bed as she heard him making noise in their master bathroom.

  She lifted her body up just enough to settle her gaze to the clock radio and confirmed what her internal clock already told her, that it was several minutes until 7:00 a.m. She’d had an internal clock that woke her up no matter what, at the same time, every day, since college.

  She reached over and turned on the radio, wanting to hear what the forecast was for the day and was cheered considerably when the forecast promised a spring day warming, dispelling the chill they’d had over the last few days.

  She slowly got out of bed, her toes sinking into the deep pile of the Persian rug as she walked over to the overstuffed chair in the corner of the room. She slipped her arms into the sleeves of her favorite black silk kimono, and stuffed her feet into her slippers before making her way downstairs to put on a pot of coffee.

  As she propped her hip against the counter, pouring water into the coffee maker, she felt a burgeoning headache coming on.

  She opened the refrigerator door and withdrew her favorite peach-flavored Yoplait yogurt and bumped the door close with her hip. As soon as the coffee completed percolating, she poured a steaming mug full of the rich brew and carefully carried both coffee and yogurt to the table to sit down. She picked up the remote control, hoping to catch the tail end of Judge Mablean.

  The judge was in the middle of asking why in the world the female plaintiff thought she deserved spousal support after six weeks of an unconsummated marriage when Greg walked into the kitchen wearing nothing more than a pair of gym shorts and a wary smile.

  “I missed you in the shower this morning,” he commented as he reached over her to withdraw a mug from the overhead glassed cabinet.

  He referred to their habit of showering together. It had been a long time since they’d done that and she wondered why he was bringing it up. Most mornings lately, he seemed too busy to indulge in their previous love of showering and making love, claiming he had to go to the office early for one case or another.

  “And when was the last time that happened, Greg?” she couldn’t resist asking.

  “
I don’t want a repeat of yesterday,” he said. “I don’t want to argue with you anymore, Liza.” He slowly walked over to stand next to her at the table.

  “Do you have to loom over me like that, Greg? Can’t you sit down?”

  He pulled out a chair and sat next to her.

  “Baby, I’m serious. The last few weeks have been busy. But the last few months with us haven’t been…right,” he seemed to struggle to say the words. Liza felt her heart beat heavily in her chest, a sense of foreboding settling in her stomach.

  “I’ve given this a lot of thought, Li,” he said. He took her hand in his and squeezed it tightly before letting go.

  “Oh, yes? What about?”

  “I know we have some things to work out. I don’t understand why the thought of having a child with me is so abominable to you.”

  “It’s not about it being ‘abominable’! I don’t want children right now. I ‘m not ready to go down that road,” she said.

  “Go down what road?” The confusion was stamped on his face as well as his voice. “I don’t get you Liza, I really don’t. You won’t talk to me about what’s bothering you, you won’t open up to me, it feels as though I’m married to a stranger, sometimes. I don’t get any of this shit. Now you tell me that not only do you not want children…you’re not sure if you ever will? What the hell kind of shit is that?” His frustration was so high, his anger so palpable.

  “What’s there to open up about?” she cried. “What do you want from me? You know everything about me, I haven’t hidden anything from you.” Even as the words tripped off her tongue, Liza felt a queasy sensation settle in her belly at the lie, yet she forged ahead. “As far as having children, I told you when we first got married that I would need time before I’d want to have children. You seemed to be okay with it then. What’s the rush? Why are you pressuring me now?”

  “There’s no pressure, Liza. But, I can’t help wondering if it ever will be a priority for you. This is something I don’t understand.”

  “What happens when I’m left alone? What happens when you leave me all alone to raise a child by myself? I can’t do that. I won’t do that.” She’d started by yelling her response, but by the time she’d finished she’d barely spoken above a whisper. But it was loud enough for Greg to hear.

  The look on his handsome face was as though someone had kicked him in the teeth.

  Liza didn’t know what to say or do, so she remained silent. She had no answer for him, because she didn’t have an answer for herself. The silence stretched out until it was uncomfortable.

  Eventually Greg stood up from the table, glancing down at her bent head as he did so.

  “I’m late. Renita’s meeting me at the courthouse for jury selection,” he said. She resisted the urge to say “Screw, Renita”. It wasn’t the paralegal’s fault her marriage was jacked up. It was hers.

  “Can we meet for lunch?” she asked instead.

  “I’m sorry Li, I can’t break away. This will take most of the day. I’ll try and get home early,” was all that he could promise her.

  Liza didn’t say anything more, and when he kissed her on top of the head, she simply kept her head down.

  Left alone in the kitchen, she turned the television off, no longer interested in watching any of her beloved judges dispense their reality-show justice to a bunch of wannabe stars.

  She rose from the table and cleared away the small dishes, wiped the counter and left the kitchen. A nice workout was what she needed, she decided and ran up to her bedroom to put on her workout gear, and laced on her latest custom Nike running shoes. She tied the house key to her laces, just as she used to do in high school, before she left the house and took off running.

  There was nothing like a good run to help her try and clear her head. She had a membership at their social club’s fitness center, but for some reason, Liza had never felt comfortable there. It always seemed that the women were constantly measuring themselves against one another. Eyeing each other’s workout gear, making sure the labels was designer.

  Designer label-loving hussy that she admitted to being, Liza had a bit of a problem with making sure she had the latest and greatest designs for something she was going to sweat and funk out during the course of her workout.

  Besides, being outside watching the scenery go by as she paced her run was more fulfilling and exhilarating than any elliptical machine could ever be. It gave her a rush of endorphins like no other.

  As she ran, her thoughts traveled back to her marriage and her husband. She had no idea where they’d gone wrong.

  Scratch that. Even to herself she couldn’t lie.

  She knew damn well where they’d gone wrong. And while she didn’t blame herself for everything, she was honest enough to admit that the majority of the fault lay with her.

  When she and Greg had first gotten married, she was reticent in telling him about what her life had been like growing up. She avoided thinking about it herself for the most part. Throughout their short engagement, she’d always managed to avoid in-depth talks about her childhood, choosing to gloss over the neglect and poverty.

  Sure, he knew that she’d grown up as an only child of a single parent and that times had been hard. He also knew that her mother left for parts unknown soon after Liza graduated high school and left for college. And as hard as it was for her best friend to understand, Greg had never pressed her about information she didn’t want to give. He seemed to be okay with the fact that she rarely spoke of her life before she started college. So, it had been relatively easy not to discuss those things she preferred stay in the past.

  The topic of her youth, her mother and the effect it had on her were topics that she never spoke about. Not to anyone. It was a depressing time, she was over it; it didn’t define who she was now, so why talk about it?

  She made it to the outside running track and took off running, top speed. Her fast clip eventually slowed as her thoughts inevitable went to her mother. She hadn’t spoken to her in over five years. Not really talked.

  She would get the occasional phone call once or twice a year at best. Her mother would ask her for money, give her the address where to wire it and that was it. No “how are you honey, what’s going on in your life?” No, “I miss you and what’s going on with your life”. Nothing. Liza would try and engage her in conversation. Try her damnedest to get her mother to talk about her life, nudge her into asking Liza about her own.

  But Edna never did. The only thing Edna wanted was the money. Once, Liza had said no. It was the last time that she did. Her mother had then gone on a long diatribe about what a selfish bitch she was.

  “Oh, I get it. You think your shit don’t stink…is that it, Liza?” Liza could all but smell the taint of gin on her mother’s breath long distance and steeled herself for her verbal attack.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I see now. I raise you when nobody else would. Definitely not that worthless father of yours who took one look at you and put his damn size eleven feet to the concrete and got to steppin’! No, definitely not him,” she said in a slightly slurred voice. With barely a pause in breath she continued her tirade. “I sacrifice, carry your narrow ass in my stomach for nine long months. Try my best to raise you right, feed and clothe you…and this…this is the thanks I get?” When she paused to take a breath, Liza quickly sought to end the diatribe before she really got into it.

  “Mom…”

  “No…oh hell, no. Let me finish! I send you to that Catholic School so you can get a good education. Better than what I had growing up and this is the thanks I get? Married to that white man and now you think you’re all that! Well, let me clear it up for you Liza. Unless you have ‘my shit don’t stink’ perfume emitting out of your ass, you’re no better than anybody else!”

  “You know what, Mom?” Liza didn’t know if she should laugh or cry at the utter ridiculousness of what was a classic Edna speech. Perfume “emitting out of her ass”. Classic, crazy Edna-isms. “I have no problem giving you mone
y,” she began.

  “I don’t need you to give me shit, Liza!” If possible her voice had risen in octaves beyond anything she’d ever achieved. It had to be a record.

  “I’m sorry. I know that you don’t need me, Mom. I don’t have a problem lending you money.”

  “Oh just forget it! I don’t need anything from you! You’re just like that selfish bastard of a father of yours. Don’t give a damn about anyone but yourself!” She ended, once again, in classic Edna style. Talking about a father Liza never met, much less someone she could compare herself with and find lacking.

  And once again the tables had turned. Liza found herself practically begging her mother to take her money. “Please, Mom. Give me the address and I’ll wire the money,” she asked on a stifled sigh.

  Her mother had feigned reluctance before she eventually gave her the address. Liza had then asked her where she was living and if her mother ever thought she’d come back to Stanton to visit. Edna had vaguely informed her that she’d have to check it out, see what was on her schedule before she’d commit to anything.

  Liza had no idea what could be so pressing on her mother’s schedule that she couldn’t take the time out to come and visit her. Although her mother was always out of money, she did work. She was a registered nurse and never found difficulties finding a job as nursing was one of those professions that there seemed to always have shortages.

  She also made decent money as a nurse, whenever she worked. The lack of a job or education wasn’t Edna’s problem. Her problem was her addiction to alcohol and anti-depressants. It was a rare day that her mother wasn’t either drunk or depressed. And usually, she was both.