There were no tears though.
Thankfully.
Just… that blank expression again. Eyes low, staring at the floor.
It was quiet. Eerie. The sudden change in the room was a little unsettling. I ran my tongue over my bottom lip again. More blood. Walking away, I went into the bathroom to check my face. There were scratches on my neck, my bottom lip was busted, and by the way my eye continued to throb, I knew that tomorrow it’d be black. How in the fuck were we going to explain this to the kids?
I stood there a moment. Staring at my reflection, disgusted. Clenching down on my jaw, my nostrils flared and I hated thenigga staring back at me. She asked me twice who Diary was and not once had I been able to answer. If Mahogany was asking me anything, it was because she already knew the answer to the question and that went for everything. When I was cheating, she’d ask stuff and I’d know she already knew. She knew who Diary was. So why in the fuck couldn’t I just?—
Mahogany walked into the bathroom and stood next to me, looking up at me. Emptily. Her eyes were red and glossed over with tears I didn’t want her to shed. Tears that were barely hanging on. If she blinked, they would fall. But she didn’t. She just stared at me. And the tears? They just continued to build. Likely clouding her vision.
With furrowed brows, I swallowed.
Rubbed my lips together.
Swallowed again.
Ran my hand over the back of my neck.
I was scared. Scared of what opening my mouth and telling her who Diary was would do. Scared of admitting it out loud to her. It was hard for me… telling the truth. Telling a truth of this magnitude. It was fucking hard.
But I had to do it.
She asked me to be honest.
She deserved honesty. Deserved to handle the honesty however she felt fit. I didn’t have a say so in any of it.
Scratching my cheek, I said, “Uh…”
Swallowed again.
I wasn’t a bitch. Had never bitched up about shit in my life but tonight? With my wife staring up at me with dead eyes filled with tears, after she’d just beat my ass? Man… a nigga was shook to the core.
“Diary is um…” her expression didn’t change. She just stood there. Hand on the counter. Watching me. Waiting.
“She’s my daughter and?—“
“Get out,” Mahogany whispered, finally blinking, letting those tears pool over.
“Mahogany. Can I uh… can I explain? She?—“
“I said get out once. I won’t say it again,” she interrupted.
We stood there, staring at each other once again. I wanted to explain. Wanted to tell her that I just found out about Diary. Wanted to tell her that I was going to tell her. Wanted her to know that I hadn’t cheated. She needed to know that Diary was almost three. She needed to know about her mother. Needed to know that she was dead and that was the only reason I knew about Diary. I needed Mahogany to know she couldn’t leave me. I needed her to know that… that without her I’d rather be dead. I’d be better off that way. Wouldn’t be me. So much of who I was, was because of Mahogany. What—what in the fuck would I do without her? How would I live? Where would I live? Who would I become?
We stared at each other for a good five minutes before she walked away, into the bathroom. Leaning over into the shower, she turned it on.
“Don’t say shit to my kids on your way out,” she said. That was her way of telling me to leave again.
I wanted to fix shit. Wasn’t ready to just walk away
So.
I didn’t.
I dropped down to my knees and grabbed her. Touched her waist and she swatted at me. Looked down at me with eyes of a mad woman.
“I—I didn’t know. I—Mahogany. I just… I just found out about her. She’s… she’s almost three and?—“
