Sasha and Terrence Bain have a marriage with serious issues. Sasha's sanity is held in the hands of a secret admirer who does so with class and consistency.
Sasha and Terrence Bain are the perfect couple on the surface.He is a handsome, successful, wealthy bank president and she is a gorgeous, well-educated, great homemaker, and wonderful mother of three intelligent and precocious children.However, Terrence is also a ladies’ man, more than a little unfaithful, and less than discreet.Sasha’s love of her family, home, and yes . . . her cheating husband keeps her in an emotional turmoil.To stay in her marriage and be disrespected, or to leave and take her place in the long line of single mothers are her choices.
After a brutal argument with Terrence, the delivery of a magnificent arrangement of lavender orchids from a secret admirer lifts Sasha’s spirits enough to make her take a good look at herself.She decides to treat herself to a makeover that surprises everyone.The elegant, sophisticated and stylish Sasha Bain attracts more attention than she could have ever hoped for; and the most important one of all is Terrence.His turnaround is nothing, if not miraculous.As Sasha’s heart desires, Terrence wines, dines and makes magnificent love to his wife.A streak of jealousy from Terrence makes Sasha smile.Sasha believes she can hold her husband’s affection forever if she continues being the ‘women’ of Terrence’s fantasies.
There were other changes in Sasha’s life after her transformation.Not only did the delivery of lavender orchids continue, but more elaborate gifts arrived with notes that made her heart pound because the sender obviously loved Sasha just for being Sasha.Of course, Sasha hopes they are all from Terrence until a tragic accident makes it obvious her secret admirer is not her husband.Does she dare hope her secret admirer will still be there after the dust settles?
Excerpt
“Oh husband, dear husband,
great love of my life;
as you’re roaming the streets,
do you think of your wife?”
“Hell no, dumb lady,
not you, or the kids;
girls in tight skirts,
are taking my bids.”
CHAPTER ONE
Our theme song played in my head as I lie in bed alone another night. Terrence had a late meeting and dinner at the bank. He probably decided to get a room at a hotel in town. If questioned, he would say, “Sasha, I’m just too tired to drive all of the way home now. I’ll get there early enough in the morning to change and have breakfast with the children.”
Around eleven o’clock I would receive the obligatory matrimonial telephone call. There would be no I love you or I miss you. Obviously, an apology embodied dark, mystical powers; and a genuine one was capable of making our children orphans in a matter of minutes. I can see it clearly; Terrence choking, spitting and writhing to death on his expensive hotel room floor, as soon as it cleared his lips. Me, still holding the telephone, suffering a massive coronary and collapsing here in my lovely bedroom the moment it registered in my mind.
How could two people who loved each other as much as we had wind up in this stagnant, loveless farce? How could we still call it a marriage with a straight face? Though difficult to accept, I knew the real answer to those questions. One of us was crazy as hell and the other, plain old stupid. Switching those two roles represented all of the interaction between Terrence and I; intimate, or otherwise.
Our marriage had become a necessary convenience for Mr. Terrence Bain, Vice President of Quaker National Bank. After all, he was the first Black to achieve such a position with that bank. His perfect image must remain pristinely impeccable. So what if it was mortgaged with the souls of our entire family.
As Mrs. Terrence Bain, I must maintain the illusion of the blissfully happy wife and mother. Well, I guess I ain’t Houdini, because I can not do it. The pay is good, but the benefits really suck.
At this stage in the game, I would rather be the floozy he is taking to the hotel. She is the one who is having all of the laughs now. I needed to give this situation some serious thought and change the lyrics to the song.
The ringing telephone always made me look at the clock. It was eleven-fifteen. When I answered there was no need for a hello. I simply said, “You’re late.”
“Don’t start, Sasha. Or, I’ll stop calling too,” Terry responded as emotionlessly as I had.
“Oh really, Terry? What will I tell those grand white folks you work for when they call then? Try the Latham Hotel?”
Just as I thought, there was no response. His great banking mind could not and would not deal with reality based questions. After a long pause, the great one says, “I’ll be in around seven o’clock. Put out my navy suit and shoes, white shirt and choose a tie I haven’t worn in a while.” Without another word, he hung up.
I stared blankly into the silent telephone and said sarcastically, “Of course, Sweetheart; anything for you. Oh, by the way, the children are fine.”
Like clockwork signaled by the nightly telephone call, I heard the patter of feet in the hallway. My bedroom door crept open slowly. Tiara, my eight-year-old daughter, stuck her head inside and asked with concern, “Are you okay, Mom?”
Before I could answer, there were two more sets of feet in the hallway; her five-year-old twin brothers, Terrell and Taurus. Without fanfare they pushed Tiara into the room and all three of them raced for the bed to get the best space. When the position power struggle ended, a chorus of, “Are you okay, Mom,” went up again.
“I’m fine, guys. Everybody comfortable?”
Everyone nodded, “Uh huh. Good night, Mom.”
“Good night.”
My poor babies thought nothing of their missing father. His not being there only meant they could sleep in the big bed with Mom. All three of them snuggled down in the king-sized bed and fell asleep.
I looked at their sleeping forms and realized they were my only reason for existing right now. There was no me. Sasha Bain lived as Terrence Bain’s wife and Tiara, Terrell and Taurus’s mother. I had absolutely no identity of my own. No career or dream outside of these walls. I laid back, closed my eyes and let the tears fall until I fell asleep.
The alarm clock went off as usual at six o’clock. The kids mumbled and stirred, but I was the only one to get up. Sliding my arms into my burgundy satin and lace robe, I groggily propelled myself downstairs to make a pot of coffee.
I was sitting at the kitchen counter having a cup of coffee when his majesty parked his gleaming, Kelly green, BMW in the garage. I automatically looked up at the clock. Terry was thirty minutes early. Miss Thang must not have been so good last night.
I wondered if he really thought no one ever saw him come in at this time of morning four out of seven days a week. Who was he fooling by closing the garage door? Who was supposed to believe the car had been there all night? Who even cared?
Of course our neighbors were not directly in front of us, but he passed their houses to get home. The paper boy surely saw him regularly. Someone else was bound to be sitting in their kitchen having a cup of coffee, just as I was doing now.
My mother had said something the other night that came back to me. “It’s a sad day when you see a man with as much on the ball as Terrence Bain stupid to the bone. And, I don’t have to tell you which bone I’m talking about either.” I sat at the counter and laughed out loud.
When Terry came in, that’s how he found me, laughing hysterically. With no more than a momentary quizzical expression, he asked stiffly, “Are my clothes ready, Sasha?”
Still laughing, I said, “No, Terrence. They are not.”
“Well, have them ready when I get out of the shower,” he said shortly.
Being fed up with Terrence was a given for me. Ignoring conceited requests while numbly filling them was my claim to fame. I had passed all of the stages of anger a long time ago. Or, at least I thought so. This morning Terrence stirred a fresh batch. How much I despised him paraded boldly through my mind. Not only was Terrence Bain not having his way today, I was ready, willing and able to take this conversation and its ensuing consequences anywhere.
“Tell that bitch you laid up with last night to come over and get your clothes ready, Terrence,” I shot back.
I could tell by the stunned expression on his face this was not the response he expected. Normally I sigh and say in a defeated tone of voice, “Okay, Terry.” I just did not feel like saying that this morning.
“What did you say, Sasha?” Terrence asked very slowly, as if he were trying to be intimidating.
“You heard me, Terrence. Tell that bitch you laid up with last night to come over and get your clothes ready,” I said just as slowly.
With a distinct elevation of pitch and volume, he said, “I’m telling the well-dressed bitch living in the big house I pay for to get my clothes ready.”
I laughed. I don’t know why. I just did it. As soon as I managed to speak, still grinning, I said, “Well, the bitch in the big house says, ‘Fuck you, Buddy.’”
I guess both of his bitches failed to perform their assigned tasks properly today. Terry’s carefully cultivated, cool demeanor appeared to be a little wilted this morning. That actually looked like perspiration trembling on the tip of his golden aristocratic nose. He took one threatening step toward me. Calmly, I rose from the stool and stood in front of the sink.
Through clenched teeth, he hissed, “Sasha, I am not in the mood for your shit this morning. Get my clothes and make my breakfast before I do something we’ll both be sorry for.”
Terry’s sophisticated anger tickled me. Wrong as two left shoes and vehemently making demands. I laughed at him.
Terrence started toward me with his fists clenched at his sides. My hand slid into the silverware drawer and came back with a big, gleaming razor sharp, butcher’s knife. I raised the knife over my head in response and Terrence’s fist stopped in mid-air.
I spat at him with all of the venom a tortured woman possesses, “Go ahead, Terrence! Make me kill your sorry yellow ass early this morning! Give me one good reason.”
Terrence closed his eyes and dropped his head. I think he was counting. Slowly, he backed up, headed upstairs and started mumbling, “Damn women make me sick. Give the bitches the world and they won’t even put your damn clothes out for you. I’m not in the mood for this shit today.”
“I don’t give a damn about your mood! The mood you’re in the day you hit me, Terrence Bain; will be your last damn mood!”
Hearing the children’s footsteps in the upstairs hallway, I quieted down. When they appeared in the kitchen doorway the knife was back in the drawer. Brilliant sunshine poured into the room on a serene Mom pouring juice.
Clinging to me, Tiara asked teary-eyed, “What’s the matter, Mom? Did he hit you? Is Daddy leaving for good?”
“It’s okay, Baby. Daddy’s in a bad mood. There’s no hitting allowed around here. You know that, Tiara. Take your brothers back upstairs. Brush your teeth and wash your faces while I make breakfast.”
Tiara pulled away reluctantly, gathered her still whimpering brothers and left the kitchen. I sighed with relief once they were all gone. My mind raced as I prepared breakfast for my family.
Terrence was going to make me do something I did not want to do before this was all over. We had to find an amicable solution for the problems we were having or dissolve the marriage, for the children’s sake. If we continued on this path, someone was definitely going to get hurt. I could not risk it being me or my kids.
No one would have ever guessed what transpired here earlier this morning by the breakfast scene played out a mere half hour later. My smiling husband found his own blue suit, shoes, white shirt and tie; and was stationed appropriately at the head of the kitchen table.
Terrence answered the enthusiastic questions of two shining-faced little boys who fought for his attention. They were identical twins who looked exactly like their father. My family called them triplets.
My daughter was a honey-complexioned, hazel-eyed, black-haired beauty. She was not happy at all. There were no questions for Daddy from her. Knowing Tiara was old enough to know exactly what was going on disturbed me.
Tiara ate her breakfast in silence. She had stopped smiling in her father’s presence almost two years ago when the new routine began. The selfish bastard never noticed.
I went outside to retrieve the newspaper and handed it to Terrence who had the nerve to kiss my cheek on his way out. The man was crazy if he thought the neighbors saw that bullshit kiss and missed his car coming in at six-thirty. Rolling my eyes, I dismissed him, as usual. My attention went to making sure the children had their sweaters and jackets on, lunch boxes and book-bags. It was still cool out.
We waited in the doorway for the school bus. When it pulled up, the boys almost ripped my robe off trying to kiss me good-bye. Tiara gave me a kiss with a little less enthusiasm. She took two steps up the walkway, turned around and said, “Mom, Daddy’s got to go.”
Before I could say a word, she ran to the bus. My mother always said, “Out of the mouths of babes come truth.”
I knew I had to be the one to draw up a list of alternatives or put the divorce proposal on the table first. Terrence did not have a problem with the way things were going. After all, he had his cake just the way he liked, was eating it and not gaining weight.
Edward Rutherford is prepared to do just about anything to escape an arranged marriage to a woman he despises. But his brilliant plan to feign insanity has some rather unwanted consequences...
