toward the stairs.
âMare, donât do this.â
She continued her brisk stride as he followed her. She headed toward the guest bedroom where sheâd put a few items in the closet. It made sense to bring clothes and leave them here when she spent the night. His house was closer to Savannah State than hers, and he said he didnât mind. If he didnât want me, he shouldnât have led me on, she muttered as she plucked her business suits from hangers. Angrier now, she voiced her ire with each yank.
âIâm not getting back out here on this dating scene with these non-working, trifling men.â
She stuffed clothes in a box she found in the bottom of the closet.
âAlways trying to move in on you when youâre not looking.â
Camisoles.
âWanting to have a baby and canât take care of themselves.â
Stilettos.
âDonât know a salad fork from a dinner fork.â
Two coats.
Joshua stood in the doorway watching her. He loved her, but he wasnât ready to take the next step. He approached her gingerly, wanting to assist with the clothes and calm her.
âLet me help.â
âYouâve done enough!â
In one swoop, she raked jewelry on the dresser into the box.
âMare, calm down.â
She faced him. âThis is the last time Iâm asking. Will you marry me?â
He saw the love and sincerity in her eyes, but wouldnât yield. âMarilyn, I canât.â
She hoisted the box from the side of the dresser where she dropped in the last pair of earrings. âYou had your chance. After tonight, donât call me, donât email me, donât get in touch with me. Iâm thirty-seven years old with a time clock ticking louder than Big Ben. Iâve wasted almost a year with someone who doesnât even think Iâm worthy to be his wife.â
âMarilyn, proposing to a man is too modern for my tastes. If youâd be patient, we can continue our relationship to see where it goes.â
Marilynâs steely look chilled Joshua. Marilyn spat in her hand and slapped Joshua so hard his face burned.
âFuck you, Joshua Benson. Fuck you!â
5
Husband FirstâAlways
âW e donât need organized religion to be connected to God.â
âHallowed Beryl, we should call the authorities. We could get some of theââ
âAre you raising your voice at me?â
âNo, I only meantââ
âThatâs what I thought. Iâm still the head of this household. Donât you ever forget your place!â
Alice nodded in deference to her husband, glued to the spot where the berating began. As Berylâs chest rose and fell, she attempted to suppress his anger with, âyour dinner is getting cold. You need to come eat.â
âWarm it up for me.â
Alice headed to the kitchen and took Berylâs plate from the table. Though they owned a microwave, she was forbidden to warm his food in it. After their short-lived membership with the Friends of Sinai, Beryl mistrusted microwaves, said they were another way the world conspired to fill bodies with toxins and cancer. He believed food was best warmed in the oven, covered with foil and heated through, or reheated on top of the stove, covered in foil, over a pan of boiling water. He demanded his non-alcoholic drinks have seven ice cubes, because seven was the biblical number of completion. Alice rarely used the icemaker; Beryl stood over her as she filled the old-fashioned ice cube trays to assure she manually released them in his glass. She pressed the preheat button on the oven to 325 degrees and stood against the island. They adhered to a strict bedtime of nine oâclock, so she had less than an hour to heat the food, wash the dishes, and take a shower. She removed two juicy ribeye steaks from his plate with tongsâBeryl said meat lost its flavor if pierced with a forkâand laid them side-by-side. She covered