After I see my bracelet around this woman’s wrist, I can’t hold back the flood of emotions. The only comparable feeling to this one is how I felt after my father passed away. And even then, you expect death as a part of life. You don’t expect the man you built a life with to throw it all away and drive the humiliation in further by giving your prized possessions to his mistresses.
I can see myself setting this man’s car on fire. If I weren’t a lawyer, I would do it, too. I need to do something – and that fiery energy slams into every rational thought I have trying to calm myself down. Like I said, the emotions flood me and I’m not the type to indulge in my feelings, so the whirlwind comes as a shock.
How did I get to this point in my life? Kennard Plant was my dream man – the black man who would complement my perfect black family.
I’m alawyer.I’m worth so much more than a cheating, lying ass husband. Emotions overwhelm me and even if I told myself that I wouldn’t react this way, the betrayal hits me like a bus. Maybe some part of me really thought this private investigator would tell me she found nothing. Kennard cheated. I keep telling myself that in my head, hoping the reality check will numb my stupid feelings.
The type of shit I see in the courtroom is genuinely sad. My husband Kennard cheating on me with a white woman he met on Instagram is… cliche. I shouldn’t let it get to me and I especially shouldn’t let it get to me that she’s a white girl. Would it really matter if we were the same skin color? He cheated on me. That pretty much means it’s over between us which can’t happen overnight when you’ve been married since you were twenty-one years old.
How the hell can this be happening to me?
I did everything right. I did everything I was supposed to. I’ve only slept with one man and that man is my husband, Kennard. Who I know passed his dick around to at least one other woman. This can’t seriously be happening to me.
I’m… My upper lip stiffens. I’ve been through so much worse than this. Moving to this cold, unfriendly New York hellhole after a childhood in rural Georgia was much harder than this. I sure as fuck couldn’t lean on Kennard.
I stuff my phone in my pocket. This isn’t a ritual of self-humiliation. I knew what I was going to find, didn’t I? Otherwise, I would have never gone searching for private investigators who specialize in uncovering unfaithful husbands.
My best friend messages me, because I made the foolish mistake of telling her I wanted support when the private investigator’s report came through. I foolishly said that becauseI was still clinging to hope that Kennard was faithful to me. My “best friend” is my paralegal, an overly optimistic mixed race woman named Rana Rhodes. Her mother is Iranian, her father is Jamaican, and she is absolutely fantastic at handling clients as well as all my problems.
I would never have let myself get close to someone working for me if she hadn’t been my paralegal for a full decade. She’s smart, assertive, and honestly has never seemed to like Kennard very much. I’m nervous about telling her the truth.
Rana: Did Tamz reach out to you?
“Tamz” is the name of the social media account who conducts the deep investigative research. It’s probably short for a name like Tamara.
Me: Yes. Bad news.
I send the text message before I can second guess myself. I should text Kennard next. I should tell him that he’s a dirty ass animal and I’m going to find out where he hides his guns and end his damn life for embarrassing me. My phone trembles in my hands as I gaze down at it and I realize for the first time in ages that I’m angry.
It doesn’t matter if I try to suppress it, the anger is real and coursing through my body. I need an outlet.
Rana: I’m so sorry.
Rana: We should confront him.
Isn’t that dangerous? My hands tremble as I read her text message. Confronting him is a terrible idea. We own a law practice together. If I confront him, our divorce will be in the local papers for the next three years. If we’re lucky enough to get out of the preliminary hearings by then. We work together for a reason – we know each other disturbingly well.
I’m a lawyer. I know how badly confronting him can go. But I’m also blinded with rage. The picture of my husband with his secretary Inessa burns up inside of me and I won’t be able to get it out of my mind unless I do something about it.
Aricia: I can’t go to jail.
Rana: You won’t. I’m coming over.
Our law firm is one of the most successful in Buffalo. We pull in over $2.3 million a year. After expenses, we each get about $425,000 a year plus we have shares in the company. Untangling myself from Kennard will lead to the world’s messiest divorce. I’m going to be sick to my stomach from this.
Rana arrives at my office in her silver Buick Encore without me having to wait too long downstairs. The entire world feels off-center, like I walked into a parallel world where my worst fears came true. Rana’s presence soothes me, but only slightly. I approach the passenger side door and just stand there until she rolls the window down, stunned into that silent shock.
“Girl! Get in the car,” Rana says, her vibrancy breaking through my numbness. “You can’t go to jail, but I have no problems beating a side bitch’s ass!”
I hold my purse tightly against my lap as if it could protect me from the inevitable. My life is falling apart. We had a new paralegal interview next week together with that local applicant Geralynn Taviani, what’s going to happen with that?
Rana can’t stop cursing Kennard down on the long drive to our house. They’re there right now, according to my private investigator because this is the time when my husband has his weekly “meeting” with the woman that he’s secretly fucking. I’m going to be sick just thinking about it, although in a short space of time I’m getting closer and closer to accepting it.
My best friend’s ranting helps, strangely enough. “I can’t believe that ain’t shit motherfucker would have the balls to take his side bitch to your house. Do you think they fucked in the bed? Wait… Do I need to go to Dick’s and get a baseball bat?”
“No! We’re not going to get away with bludgeoning him to death.”
“Who said anything about death? I was an LPN for two years, I know how to land a few good hits…”
