The Retreat. Dijorn Moss

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СКАЧАТЬ removed his smoky gray business suit as if he were about to make love to his wife, laid the coat at the foot of the winding staircase, and began his ascent of the stairs to the master bedroom. It was questionable why the sheets on the bed had been changed, why the coconut scent was forceful throughout the room. It all could mean nothing more than just Quincy’s mind in overdrive. Karen would never let him hear the end of it if he made his suspicions of her infidelity known. This wasn’t a movie. The mirror in the bathroom was not fogged from a recent shower. The closet doors were open and there was no one who lay hidden. He had overreacted, and the best way to shrug off the minor embarrassment was to remember the reason he came home in the first place. Karen would kill him for coming home and tossing his clothes on the bed, but he was pressed for time.

      Quincy walked into the closet in their bedroom. He loved clothes and shoes as much as Karen did. He pulled his golf bag out of the closet, and several white golf balls fell out and rolled over to Karen’s lavender purse. Karen had a plethora of purses in every color, shape, and size. Quincy put the golf balls back in his bag. He went to set Karen’s purse back on the wooden shelf next to her dresses when a cell phone fell out. Quincy had never seen this cell phone before. His suspicions had returned. He flipped open the pink phone and discovered that the phone was on silent mode with the “new text message” symbol blinking on and off. He viewed the message from a nickname A-MOG:

      Where are you? I’ve been trying to contact you. I left my cuff link by the bed. By the way, at Bible Study last week you looked so hot in that pink miniskirt, it was hard for me to concentrate.

      —A-MOG

      Pink skirt! Cuff links by the bed? This had to be a joke. Quincy walked over to his bed and looked underneath their California king–sized platform bed. He did not see anything on Karen’s side, so he walked around to his side, and there on the floor was a gold cuff link. Though everything started to add up, it still did not make sense. Quincy could not remember Karen wearing a miniskirt in years, and when he’d left for work this morning, she was dressed in her conservative business suit. The coconut scent, the mysterious cell phone, everything was pointing to one thing: Karen was having an affair, and he suspected that it had to be someone from the church.

      To appease Karen, Quincy would occasionally make an appearance at Greater Anointing. He did not attend last Sunday, and, as far as remembering what Karen had on, Quincy could not remember what he had for breakfast. He checked her inbox to find more messages from A-MOG. This one was dated two weeks prior:

      Last night was off the chain. I know you couldn’t spend the night, but it was still good to see you. The sheets still carry your scent. See you Sunday.

      —A-MOG

      Quincy sat down in disbelief. He stared at the wall, confused. Karen was having an affair. He scrolled through the text messages, and anger arose as he discovered that Karen was involved in an affair with someone from the church.

      I know sex in the car was not comfortable, but you looked so hot last night during choir rehearsal that I had to pull the car over and have you right then and there.

      —A-MOG

      Karen was not an unattractive woman. But this A-MOG guy talked about her like she was Beyoncé or Vivica Fox or someone! It disgusted Quincy that a so-called man of God could leave her such perverse messages. Quincy dialed the phone number associated with the text message and got an answer.

      “What up, ma? Did you find the cuff link?” a male voice asked.

      “Ma can’t come to the phone right now, but pa is available,” Quincy replied, struck by the youthfulness in the guy’s voice. He was also now aware that the intense scent of coconut was to cover up, and not to freshen up, their bedroom.

      “Ma?” The man let out an expletive word before he hung up.

      Quincy did not even bother to call back. He didn’t want to get answers from this individual. He wanted answers from his wife, so he would have to go to the source. Quincy could not wrap his head around the fact that his wife and her lover had been here as early as today. In his home, in his bed. This was all playing out like a bad movie.

      Quincy ignored the call from his business partner, who kept trying to get in contact with him. Karen had played him and made herself seem like the perfect wife. If there was one thing Quincy did not appreciate, it was being made a fool; so now it was time for him to act a fool.

      His brain ran through numerous scenarios. If he were a woman, he would set all of Karen’s clothes on fire like in the movie Waiting to Exhale. Better yet, he would do what Mary Woodson did to Al Green and throw some hot grits at her, or just pull a Mrs. Lionel Richie on her tail and administer a beat down. Worst yet, he would pull a Bobbitt. But he was not a woman.

      He was Quincy Page, and Quincy Page was too cool to lose control. So the game was definitely on, but it had nothing to do with a golf ball. Quincy slid both the cell phone and the cuff link into his pocket, and he stormed out of his closet and house with his sights set on his wife’s job.

      With a 9 iron in his hands, Quincy parted through Karen’s coworkers like the Red Sea, ignoring the greetings and the chatter. He started to shake as he got close to Karen’s office. He wanted to kick down the door, but settled for a more civilized approach, and knocked.

      “Yes,” Karen said from inside her office.

      Quincy opened the door and slammed it shut behind him.

      “What’s wrong with you?” Karen stood up and took off her glasses.

      Quincy reached into his pocket and pulled out the cell phone. The look of shock on his wife’s face gave him all the confirmation he needed. Quincy threw it at Karen. She ducked, and the phone just missed her head as it ricocheted off of her glass window.

      He then pulled out the cuff link and chucked it toward Karen; the cuff link landed square on Karen’s shoulder.

      “Baby, I can explain,” Karen said.

      “You had him in my house, Karen! My house! You’ve been creeping on me behind my back.”

      Quincy watched her whole being crumble, and he knew she could not even search the rubble to find an explanation that would suffice. For once, Quincy needed her to find an explanation. He needed her to say something that would make sense.

      He needed her to win. Instead, what he found was a diminutive will that could not even go on to fight.

      “I’ve forwarded the messages to my phone. Tomorrow I’m going to see a lawyer,” he told her.

      “Baby, we just need to talk. Let’s not let our emotions get the better of us,” Karen said with tears in her eyes.

      “I left my emotions at home. Now all I have is my resolve to send you to Wal-Mart to shop from here on out.”

      “I’m so sorry.” Karen’s voice quivered.

      “You know I wasn’t particularly happy in this marriage. I haven’t been happy for a long time, but I know that I promised to be faithful and loyal to you. I’ve kept my vows despite countless opportunities to break them.” Quincy took a moment to catch his breath and grip his 9 iron.

      “What are you going to do with that?” Karen looked at the golf club her husband gripped in his hand.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ