Pink is a must.” I looked down at the table, spotted Blake’s phone, and grabbed it. “Do some cheetah balloons too.”
“Oh yes.” Melody grabbed the pink crayon. “I’m going to do a bunch with spots, Mommy.”
I’m just going to check his phone. I can’t sit here through this meal and pretend everything is okay. I must make sure this isn’t all in my head.
My hands shook as I turned on Blake’s phone. Melody said something else, but her voice, as well as the restaurant chatter, disappeared. It was only the phone and me in that space. All depended on what I would find.
This could be the end of my ten-year marriage. What will I do?
The device came on. Nine missed calls showed. I didn’t recognize the number. Blake had labeled it Domino’s Pizza. He’d been calling Domino’s Pizza a lot for the past three months—early in the morning, in the middle of the night, and even during work. I switched to his text. Blake had even sent Domino’s Pizza several pictures of his penis. And Domino’s Pizza had sent images too. And it wasn’t food establishment ads. It was a young man that must’ve been half Blake and my age of forty. Some of the images appeared to be a guy posing naked in a college dorm.
No, Jesus. No. He’s cheating on me with a college kid?
A man’s voice boomed from all the TVs. The actor playing Tom Fullbrooke had arrived at the slave auction.
I gripped the phone hard. My world spun around me. All I could do was look up at the screen and try to anchor myself.
On the TV, Tom Fullbrooke left his immaculate horse carriage and stepped through the crowd of people bidding. All the slaves were naked and chained to the stage. Tom’s gaze locked with Fanny’s terrified face.
Dramatically, he raised his hand and pointed. “I want her!”
Emotional music played—some sort of fast paced piano and flute.
This show is as bad as my life.
I looked away.
Melody made more balloons on the page.
I wanted you to grow up with a dad, baby. I never had that. And now. . .
Tears streamed down my face.
Damn it, Blake. If you were gay, then you should have never married me.
I lost it right there. My nerves burned with rage. Blake had thrown it all away—our life, our future. He’d muddied our love. He’d sullied the memories. He’d forever ruined the sanctity of our bed—the sacredness of our marriage. My heart shattered. My soul wept. My bones damn near imploded within my body.
Not only was Blake an adulterous piece of shit, but apparently, he was gay. I didn’t have problems with homosexual people. I just no longer knew who Blake was anymore, what my life had become, and where our marriage would go.
How long have you been sticking your penis in him and then bringing that nastiness to my bed and putting it inside me? How long?
Gripping the phone, I rose from the table.
The TV blared with the show.
“This slave goes to Tom Fullbrooke.”
“What are you going to name her, Tom?”
“Fanny. I’m going to call her. . .Fanny.”
“Come on, Fanny. You go on with your master now.”
I stomped toward the bathroom. Everyone had their attention glued to the TVs as if the show was some award-winning drama. I had no idea what was wrong with the world, but idiot entertainment surely had played some part and ruining the minds of this country.
I got close to the men’s bathroom, ready to blast in there, and curse him out.
Luckily, Blake had been leaving. “Hey, baby did the waitress come?”
“How about you ask Domino’s Pizza!” I slung the phone at him. “I’m surprised you’re even hungry.”
Blake jerked back. “W-what?”
I hit his chest. “How could you? How could you do that to me?”
“B-baby.” He grabbed my arms so I wouldn’t hit him anymore. “This isn’t what you think it is. I’m telling you.”
Other people around the restaurant gathered our way. People no longer focused on Colors of Love. Now Blake and I had their attention. I screamed and tried to hit him again. Some rose from their tables to get a better view.
Blake backed up. “Liz, just calm down. Let me explain. You’ve got it all wrong.”
I slapped him. “So, you’re not sending your penis to some college boy?!”
“Oh shit,” a woman muttered at the table behind. “This is better than the show.”
Blake widened his eyes in embarrassment. “W-what, baby? I’m. . .no. . .t-that’s the fellas. . .playing games with my phone.”