As the game continued, no one commented about the sounds coming from the bathroom, as Tim could be heard ordering his date to turn around, take this shit, take it, and get down on your knees. It was a long time before the bathroom door opened. The date came out, her hair a mess. Tim followed, zipping up his fly. He tapped Lydia’s shoulder and said, I’ll play this hand, if you don’t mind.
She looked at the couch where the date sat, continually biting her now-bare lips, eyes staring blankly. Lydia wanted to say something to that girl, like, I’ve been there. Don’t let this asshole make you feel small. But if she said that, if Lydia aligned herself with a girl who had fucked a dude in a bathroom in a stranger’s apartment, then Tim and his two friends would turn on her, and then they’d turn on Dante. They’d wonder why he’d chosen Lydia for his wife. Why Lydia would defend somebody Tim had treated like a whore. And if that’s who Lydia would defend, they’d think she was a whore, too. And maybe Lydia was a whore. She’d slept with so many boys and young men, and her husband didn’t know. She couldn’t let Dante know that she was the same as that girl sitting on his red leather couch.
Tim tapped her shoulder again, and she threw her cards on the table. She walked back to the bedroom and slammed the door with all her might. When Dante came in hours later, she squeezed her eyes closed. In the morning, she didn’t make his breakfast.
The next evening, Tim came by himself, and told a story about the brown girl that he’d brought as his date. She was a geek monster, but in high school, she’d walked around with an attitude.
“Tay, you remember her?”
“She was a cheerleader, right?”
“Yeah, but that was back in the day. You give that bitch a rock now, she real compromising.”
Dante touched his friend’s arm. “Hey, partner, watch your mouth. You see my wife sitting here.”
Tim let a few seconds pass before he apologized, saying he meant no disrespect. He knew Lydia was a good woman.
She went to the stove and fixed Dante’s plate. She set it on the table and walked back to the bedroom. She didn’t know she’d fallen asleep until Dante put his arms around her.
“I put a plate for you in the oven, baby.”
“I’m not hungry.” Her stomach growled, and he hugged her tighter.
“I think you lying. And I believe you mad at me, too.”
She turned around. “I don’t like how you act around that guy.”
“You mean Tim?”
“Yeah, him! That guy’s got you selling drugs!”
“Aw, woman, don’t be like that. I’m just making money for the house. And you know it’s temporary, till I get enough for my mechanic’s license.”
“It’s not just that, Dante. You act different around Tim. Like when I met your mama that time and you were rude to me? And we had just come from church, too.”
“Lydia, please don’t throw that up in my face. I know I was wrong, baby. You didn’t deserve that, but I thought you said you forgave me.”
“I did, but what I’m saying is, you turn into somebody else as soon as he knocks on the door. And then he brought that girl in here and shamed her and you didn’t say one word. I never thought I’d see you act that way, and then he came back today, laughing at that girl. Like, just in case we didn’t see what he did. He’s not a good person, Dante.”
“Yeah, he is, Lydia! Don’t say that! He’s just had things tough. His daddy beat on his mama all the time, and Tim used to run away to my house. And you should have seen his clothes. I mean, I was poor, but Tim was real poor. And the kids would pick on him. That girl he brought over? She was one of them.”
“Okay, so what she did wasn’t right, but y’all graduated high school six years ago! He didn’t have to humiliate that girl. If he wasn’t over how she did him, he should have cussed her out in private. I don’t want to see him no more. I mean it.”
Dante started weeping. His shoulders shaking with coughing sobs, as he begged her, please. He didn’t have another friend. Tim was like his blood. Please don’t do this, and she hugged his head to her chest and rocked him. Don’t cry, she whispered, as his sobs subsided into hiccups.
“All right, now. It’s okay. All right. But no more of his nasty stories. He needs to keep that shit to himself. And he better not go with nobody else into that bathroom, either.”
“I promise. Thank you, baby. Thank you.”