had already made it to his car, and since he was so eager to leave right then and there to chase eleven o’clock before he missed it, she told him, “All right,” and let the hasty man go.
She then entered the house and walked straight up to the rooms of the children to make sure they had been tucked into bed properly. Because sometimes Shareef didn’t take the time to get them into their pajamas.
S HAREEF WAS ON THE ROAD back to Miami at 10:34 PM , and was madder than a motherfucker.
“That’s the kind of shit I’m talking about,” he fussed to himself about his wife. He already knew what had happened. Jennifer had put in more overtime at her meeting at his expense, but he wasn’t supposed to be upset about it. Nope. He was just supposed to wait until midnight and then sympathize with whatever story she gave him.
There was a cat stuck in the tree outside the library so I called the police, an ambulance, and a fire truck to make sure they could rescue her safely before I left.
Shareef would then holler, Fuck that damn cat! Nobody else stuck around for that shit! So why did you have to? After a few more hours, once he had calmed down, after he had lost three more years of his life expectancy through the unnecessary stress she had caused, he would feel like a fool for overreacting to her good deed.
“Shit!” he cursed out loud as he hurried back to Miami. He had not been with his new mistress in a couple of weeks, and they had made plans to go out that evening.
He dialed her cell phone number through the car phone, and awaited her answer.
“Hello.”
“Jacqueline, I’m on my way,” he told her.
“You’re on your way? You were supposed to pick me up an hour ago.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
“You didn’t even answer my calls,” she complained. “I called you three times already.”
The truth was, Shareef didn’t want to talk to her until he knew for certain he was on his way. Otherwise, he would have looked like a henpecked fool to continue telling her that he was waiting to leave. Maybe Jennifer had planned to ruin his night. Maybe her arriving home later than expected was to control his ability to find happiness without her. That’s why his travels away from home and away from her had become liberating, with the only drawback being that he missed his children.
Shareef told his mistress, “I’ll make it all up to you,” only because he knew she would make it up to him later. And if she did not, she would no longer be his mistress. That was the dilemma that every new woman fell into with Shareef. While he continued in his struggle to understand his wife, he remained pressed for time, stressed out for a release, and intolerant of any new relationship that called for his patience. Because he no longer had any. Jennifer had taken it all.
“Oh, you definitely have to make it up to me now,” Jacqueline told him. “You’re talking about getting out of here at close to midnight. Most of the best restaurants are going to be closing.”
Shareef heard her loud and clear through the speakers of his Mercedes, and he shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to owe another damn woman. But that was his reality after his time had been squeezed. He was being pushed out of his cool mode and into an obvious rush again.
He mumbled, “Aw’ight, I’ll be there.” But he no longer looked forward to it. The hastiness of their evening would only add to the stress he was already feeling.
A T 1:19 AM , Shareef held on to a Corona beer, sitting at a table at Opium, in the heart of Miami’s South Beach party district. It was an elaborate place of flashy lights, balconies, waterfalls, artwork, men, women, money, alcohol, and an abundance of sex appeal. In this exotic nightclub, the beautiful women rarely waited for a guy to ask them to dance, they danced by themselves or with other girls who were as attractive as they were.
Shareef sat and watched a few of them, paying
She then entered the house and walked straight up to the rooms of the children to make sure they had been tucked into bed properly. Because sometimes Shareef didn’t take the time to get them into their pajamas.
S HAREEF WAS ON THE ROAD back to Miami at 10:34 PM , and was madder than a motherfucker.
“That’s the kind of shit I’m talking about,” he fussed to himself about his wife. He already knew what had happened. Jennifer had put in more overtime at her meeting at his expense, but he wasn’t supposed to be upset about it. Nope. He was just supposed to wait until midnight and then sympathize with whatever story she gave him.
There was a cat stuck in the tree outside the library so I called the police, an ambulance, and a fire truck to make sure they could rescue her safely before I left.
Shareef would then holler, Fuck that damn cat! Nobody else stuck around for that shit! So why did you have to? After a few more hours, once he had calmed down, after he had lost three more years of his life expectancy through the unnecessary stress she had caused, he would feel like a fool for overreacting to her good deed.
“Shit!” he cursed out loud as he hurried back to Miami. He had not been with his new mistress in a couple of weeks, and they had made plans to go out that evening.
He dialed her cell phone number through the car phone, and awaited her answer.
“Hello.”
“Jacqueline, I’m on my way,” he told her.
“You’re on your way? You were supposed to pick me up an hour ago.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
“You didn’t even answer my calls,” she complained. “I called you three times already.”
The truth was, Shareef didn’t want to talk to her until he knew for certain he was on his way. Otherwise, he would have looked like a henpecked fool to continue telling her that he was waiting to leave. Maybe Jennifer had planned to ruin his night. Maybe her arriving home later than expected was to control his ability to find happiness without her. That’s why his travels away from home and away from her had become liberating, with the only drawback being that he missed his children.
Shareef told his mistress, “I’ll make it all up to you,” only because he knew she would make it up to him later. And if she did not, she would no longer be his mistress. That was the dilemma that every new woman fell into with Shareef. While he continued in his struggle to understand his wife, he remained pressed for time, stressed out for a release, and intolerant of any new relationship that called for his patience. Because he no longer had any. Jennifer had taken it all.
“Oh, you definitely have to make it up to me now,” Jacqueline told him. “You’re talking about getting out of here at close to midnight. Most of the best restaurants are going to be closing.”
Shareef heard her loud and clear through the speakers of his Mercedes, and he shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to owe another damn woman. But that was his reality after his time had been squeezed. He was being pushed out of his cool mode and into an obvious rush again.
He mumbled, “Aw’ight, I’ll be there.” But he no longer looked forward to it. The hastiness of their evening would only add to the stress he was already feeling.
A T 1:19 AM , Shareef held on to a Corona beer, sitting at a table at Opium, in the heart of Miami’s South Beach party district. It was an elaborate place of flashy lights, balconies, waterfalls, artwork, men, women, money, alcohol, and an abundance of sex appeal. In this exotic nightclub, the beautiful women rarely waited for a guy to ask them to dance, they danced by themselves or with other girls who were as attractive as they were.
Shareef sat and watched a few of them, paying
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