Page 74 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
“That’s his gift,”I said. “Making people feel sorry for him so they’ll clean up his messes.”
“You gave him three thousand dollars?”my father asked, incredulously.
“I did. And I told him it was the last time.”I pushed back from the table, too agitated to sit still. “I need to make a phone call.”
“Naomi,” my mother started.
“I’ll be right back.”
I stepped out onto the back porch with my hands shaking as I scrolled through my phone to Gerald’s number. I’d unblocked it and dialed his number.
He answered on the second ring. “Naomi, baby, thank God. I was hoping you’d call.”
“Don’t you ever, and I mean ever, contact my parents again.”
“I was desperate. You wouldn’t answer my calls.”
“Because I told you I was done! I gave you three thousand dollars, Gerald. What happened to that money?”
Silence on the other end of the line.
“Gerald, I asked you a question.”
“Things came up. Unexpected expenses.”
“What kind of expenses?”
“Look, I can explain everything if you just hear me out.”
I rubbed my temples. “What did I ever do to deserve someone like you? You have been the bane of my existence since the moment we married.” My voice was deadly calm. “You will not explain anything to me. You will leave me alone, you will leave my parents alone, and you will figure out your own problems.”
“Naomi, please. I really do need the medication.”
“Then get a job. Get insurance. Figure it out like every other adult in America.”
“You can’t just abandon me like this.”
“You abandoned yourself when you didn’t take the money I gave you and get your so-called medication!”I was shouting now, all pretense of calm gone. “I am not your wife anymore, Gerald. I am not your ATM, I am not your safety net, and I am sure as hell not responsible for the consequences of whatever stupid decisions you’ve made with the money I gave you.”
“I’m going to die without this medication!”
“Then you should have thought about that before you spent the money on whatever else you actually spent it on.”
“How can you be so heartless?”
“If wanting you to take responsibility for your own life makes me heartless, then I guess that’s what I am.”
“The woman I married would never have been so cruel.”
“The woman you married was an idiot. She learned better.”
“Naomi—”
I hung up and almost dropped my phone as my hands trembled.
I stood on the porch for several minutes, breathing in the cool air, trying to calm my racing heart. Through the kitchen window, I could see my parents at the table, my father’s hand covering my mother’s, both of them wearing expressions of concern.
That was what love looked like. Forty-four years of choosing each other, supporting each other, building something together instead of tearing each other down. This was the love that lasted, sustained, and made people better instead of smaller.
