Confessions. Sasha Campbell

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      “I finally asked him to choose, and he told me on her front porch in holey draws and a dingy wifebeater, he was in love with the other woman.”

      “Ouch! Girlfriend, say it ain’t so.”

      Kimberly breathed heavily into the phone. “Yep, I’m afraid it’s true. I was devastated. I got back in my car and drove home.”

      “Daaayum, girl! I wouldn’t wish that kind of drama on anyone. So tell me, what did you do when he got home?”

      There was a noticeable pause. “Nothing.”

      “Nothing?” This female was stuck on stupid.

      “Ms. Nikki, that’s the problem. I love my husband and I’m willing to do whatever I can to save our marriage. That’s why I called. Because I need someone out there to tell me what I need to do to bring him back to me.”

      I shook my head and glanced through the glass at my producer, Tristan, who was shaking his head as well. There are some women out there who allow a man to get away with just about anything.

      “Kimberly, honey, obviously you don’t know anything about respecting yourself, ’cause if you did, instead of calling me, you would be packing his shit and burning it in the nearest Dumpster. Why in the world would you want a man who obviously doesn’t want you?”

      “He’s the father of my kids.” Don’t you know she had the nerve to sound defensive?

      “And that’s supposed to make it right? Men can only get away with what women allow them to. He disrespected and played you in front of another woman. That’s more than enough reason to dump his sorry ass.” Tristan was going to have to do a whole lot of bleeping tonight.

      “Hold up, Nikki. I love him, and I don’t appreciate you talking negatively about my husband!”

      “Excuse me, but it’s Ms. Nikki to you, and if you love him that much, then why you even call my show? Next caller.” I ended the call. Damn! I hate to say it, but women like her deserve what they get.

      “Hi, Ms. Nikki. My name is Tasha, and my family thinks I need to leave my man.”

      Oh, Lord, not another. “Why is that?”

      “Well…uh…a couple of weeks ago we were at my cousin Boo-Man’s birthday party, and one thing led to another and my man hit me. I know he didn’t mean it, and he swears he won’t do it again.”

      It must be something in the air, because that night everybody was acting cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. “Let me tell you something, Tasha. Any woman who takes a man back after he hits her, all she’s doing is telling him it’s okay to do it again.”

      “But he’s going to counseling!”

      “Good, he needs to. And what you need to do is find a man who respects you.”

      “He can’t help it. His father used to abuse him.”

      “And that makes it right? Girlfriend, you have to respect yourself first before you can expect a man to show you respect.”

      “I know, but I’ve prayed on it and God wants me to take him back. I’m certain of it.”

      “Nooo, the Lord helps those who help themselves. If you go back to a man that hits you, that means you don’t feel worthy of a man who won’t.”

      “I believe everyone deserves a chance to change!”

      What was up with these defensive women? “True, but are you willing to risk your life on it? What if he really hurts you next time?”

      “That ain’t gonna happen, I’m certain of this. He’s been trying real hard to work on our relationship. In fact, last week he asked me to marry him and I accepted. So there’s no way I’m letting my family or anyone else stand in the way. I just wanted to go on the air and say that, ’cause I know my cousins Alizé and Lingerie listen to yo show.”

      “If you’re adamant about staying with him, then all I can do is wish you the best of luck. In the meantime, do me a favor…take some boxing classes.” I ended the call, and the phone lines lit up with callers anxious to put in their two cents. “This is Nikki and you’re on the air.”

      “Tasha, you are pathetic. I would have taken a frying pan to his head!”

      I had to laugh at that one. “I know that’s right, girl.”

      “Trust and believe, I used to date a man who hit me. I used to think it was my fault. That maybe if I did things the way he asked me to instead of the way I wanted, maybe he would love me more and stop hitting me. But you can’t change people like that. The more I tried to make him happy, the angrier he got and the beatings got worse until one day he hit me in front of my son.”

      “What!” I cried, adding dramatic effect. “Girlfriend, what did you do?”

      “Ms. Nikki, something in me snapped. I picked up my son’s baseball bat and I swung and knocked that fool hard in the arm, then I kept on swinging. I had him running out the door in his draws screaming murder!”

      “Good for you.” I laughed, trying to lighten the mood. “I like to hear about a woman standing up for herself.”

      “Humph! I might be a big girl, but I know I deserve better.”

      “Yes, you do. Next caller.”

      “Ms. Nikki, this is Petra, and I’m calling in response to the call you got from Kimberly. Yep, that was me she was talking about. I’m the other woman, and as far as her husband is concerned, I’m the only woman in his life. Kimberly, get it in your head, daddy ain’t coming home!” Click.

      “Oops, there you have it! Kimberly, dear, if that don’t give you a reality check, then I don’t know what will.” I noticed Tristan waving his arms in the air. As soon as he had my attention, he signaled for me to take line two. “Caller, you’re on the air.”

      “Hello, Ms. Nikki.”

      I groaned inwardly the second I recognized the voice. If it had belonged to anyone else, I would have considered the sound sexy and soothing. Instead, I was on the line with Mr. Loser.

      I looked through the glass at Tristan, who was cracking up laughing, and stuck up my middle finger high enough for him to see it. “Caller, please introduce yourself,” I said as if I didn’t already know.

      “Ms. Nikki, you hurt my feelings. I just knew you would never forget my voice.”

      I rolled my eyes. “Sorry, Charlie, but I hear hundreds of voices every week. I can’t remember just one.”

      He chuckled. “It’s me…Junior.”

      “Hellooo, Junior!” I said, trying to sound excited to hear from him. This man was like nails on a chalkboard—annoying as hell. “Long time no hear. What’s it been, a month, maybe two?”

      “It’s been one month, two weeks, and three days, to be exact.”

      “Oh, boy! I take it your СКАЧАТЬ