Page 45 of Cillian

“And how so?”

“Because my sister don't need no man taking care of her, she's got four brothers.”

“Is it about me making my own money?” He looked to me, his eyes lined with quiet rage.

“What are you talking about your own money? The money I bring home, that is your money. Perhaps I could be better at leaving you some before I leave for work but there's always the checkbook if you ever need anything. Or Seamus can just run you to the bank.”

Truthfully, I wanted to do more than run errands. What if I wanted to whip up something special at the last minute? What if I wanted my hair done? I didn't want to depend on him all the time, his days were long and stressful enough.

“Why are you so stubborn about it? Don't tell me it's because you only want me barefoot and pregnant.” At that, he smiled. Ever since I let it slip that I wanted to have his baby, any talk about pregnancy made him smile.

“And what would be so wrong with that?”

“Nothing, I guess. Most women in my family work,” I admitted. Hell, even my mama worked because that's just how it was for us.

“Queenie, a working wife is a tired wife, and I don't want you spending your time trying to figure out where the hours went. Plus, I know you don’t understand but I wouldn't feel like I'm doing my job taking care of you if you felt like you needed a job. If you need money, it's yours. If want your own car, I'll buy you one. Just don't bring up the work thing unless you really mean it. I like knowing where you are at all times. There's a lot of fucked up people in the city who would do anything to get an audience with me or my brothers. I just want you safe and out of harm's way.”

I took a deep breath knowing it didn’t make sense to argue about it, especially when he put it that way. He was a gangster, a crime lord, a killer, and a felon. If he thought it unsafe for me to work then he probably had his own reasoning. Still, while the moment was fresh, I thought why not cash in one of those privileges now.

“A car would be nice.” He turned to me, his lips curving into a sweet smile.

“You want a car?”

“Yes, please.” He brought my hand to his mouth to kiss, the irritation from our conversation dissipating with a problem he could fix.

“Fine. I'll get you a car.”

Eighteen

Queenie

Our first stop for the day was a department store. One that didn't even allow Coloreds to shop here until a few years ago. Since the laws changed, I’ve always wanted to stop in and see what all the fuss was about, but I never felt comfortable doing so on my own. With Cillian on my arm, no one would say anything to me but the stares sometimes felt more threatening than the words folks didn’t say. The moment we entered the store eyes followed us like an owl in a graveyard but my husband didn’t seem to notice it, or perhaps he just didn’t care. All I knew was that I planned to stay glued to him.

I wasn't going to let a few jealous stares scare me out of shopping here. We perused a few displays, as one by one I grabbed my choices, and what felt like out of nowhere, came a clerk with mousy brown hair and a pinched nose, discomfort weighing heavy on her features.

“Just so you know, if you try any of those on, you'll have to pay for them.” At which Cillian’s brows rose down in confusion.

“And what for? Do you ask that of everyone?” I stepped in between them, trying to calm down an annoyed Cillian.

“Baby, it's okay. Don't let something like this ruin our day, okay?” I knew the reason, it just hurt to say it out loud. They didn't want to sell something after a Colored girl wore it, which made no sense. We were good enough to clean your houses, make your food and nurse your children but some drew the line at trying on clothes. If we were so damn dirty, maybe some of them should have thought about that before forcing us to be their labor! Perhaps I'd explain it to Cillian later, but now it just wasn't the time.

Settling on three, we walked back to the dressing room and Cillian waited the furthest he was allowed to come inside. I entered the dressing room, taking off my jacket to admire myself in the mirror, but a conversation nearby had caught my attention.

“Before we started doing backdoor stuff, it was a hassle to keep him from coming home late. He doesn't want any more kids but refuses to wear protection. So, the other hole just keeps me from getting pregnant. Plus, it stays the same back there. Even after having a baby. When I had Michael, things felt so different, so I suspect it was the same for him.”

I was shocked. Where I was from, you didn’t hear women discussing such private matters, even in women only spaces.

“You know how men are. They hardly spend the time revving you up to make sure you get there. I found that when I touched myself before Donald comes home, I get there in half the time, since he doesn't spend much time on foreplay. To try something new, he convinced me to put my mouth there, but the man won't go near my privates unless it's to put his member in. A man acts like he's so scared of it or something.”

Maybe I was being naive, but to say that I was shocked was an understatement. Hearing other woman talk about intimacy with their husbands sounded dreadful and unfulfilling. Could that have been my fate? Cillian was so…different. He could spend hours just kissing and touching me, and even longer making love.

Here I was thinking that that was every woman's experience but hearing others discuss it, would it change once we started having children. Would I have to be open to letting him it stick it back there, too? The first dress I wanted to try on, in my haste, picked up the wrong size. To right my wrong I stepped out, only to be confronted by one of the women in the room next door who was having said conversation. Her eyes lit up with relief when she saw me, handing me her dress leaving me confused.

“Oh, thank God you're here. I'd like for you to grab me the same dress but in a size six. While you're at it, I'd like to try on that purple one in the window, same size.” This heifer thinks I work here. That was the final nail in the coffin. I let the dress fall to the floor, adopted a fuck you smile and addressed her in my calmest tone.

“I'm sorry, I don't work here. But I'm sure the ladies that do, would be delighted to help.” I stormed outside, not even caring that I left the dresses I had back with those microaggressions. Taking Cillian’s hand, I led him back to the stores entrance ready to shop someplace else.

“Baby, let's go. I don't feel comfortable shopping here.

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