Sending each other pictures and videos became incorporated into our daily routine. Not only sexual in nature, but also random pics of us driving in the car, or sitting in a restaurant, or in the bathroom. I don’t recall exactly when our relationship evolved into that of loving one another. It happened so fast.
Whenever either of us was unable to freely chat, we would send emoticons of hearts, hugs and kisses. Our connection was deep. We shared things with each other that we had never shared with anyone else. Like, how his mother was physically abused by her eldest brother for many years and became impregnated twice before choosing to keep him –a product of molestation. And like, when I was twelve years old, I accidentally burned down my family’s house while playing with matches, but blamed it on my younger sister because she was deemed “the bad one.” Because of my accusation, she was sent away to foster care, which led to her suicide a few short years later.
Our bond was strengthening by the second. It was only a matter of time before we’d meet in person. We were unhappy in our marriages, but never spoke of leaving our respective spouses for one another. We enjoyed the outlet of chatting, texting, sexting and sharing videos provided. We were able to be totally uninhibited, something neither of us could do with our mates.
He wanted, and even suggested, spontaneity in their relationship, but her religious beliefs kept her from trying creative things and being the freak in the bedroom that he so desired. I, on the other hand, never saw my husband. Regularly, he volunteered to work overtime not because we needed the money, but because he had little patience for me and the kids. Since his younger brother passed away, he just wasn’t the same. A once caring, gentle and sweet man, he grew into a mean and distant one. We went from having date nights to not seeing each other at all. With me working days and him the afternoon shift, we didn’t even see each other in passing. This is why I looked forward to the weekend because that was our family time together, until he started signing up to work then, too.
Later on that night I was awakened by the covers being yanked off of me, immediately followed by my husband grabbing my arm and sitting me in an upright position.
“Who the fuck is this?” he asked.
Squinting and trying to get the sleep out my eyes didn’t generate a quick enough response. So he yelled it again, only this time bringing his cell phone closer to my face. I took the phone to see what was so important that I should be met with confrontation at three in the morning. That’s when I knew. There were tons of messages from Quatrina Brantley. She had gone to my husband’s Facebook page and sent him so many messages that they practically filled his inbox.
“So you fucking another woman’s man? HUH?”
“No. No, it’s not like that,” I tried to explain. “We just chat or message each other. That’s it.”
In an instant I was pulled off the bed by my hair, through the halls and down the stairs. I kicked and screamed, but that only made matters worse. I was punched, slapped and even kicked a few times. Prior to this day, he hadn’t ever laid a finger on me. Not even a mild shove. A while later, the house was filled with sniffles emanating from me and my two baby girls. We sat embraced in each other arms for hours.
The girls were staying at a relative’s house for a few days. Much of our things were pretty much packed. I would start afresh and buy new things for my new place. My husband and I hadn’t spoken in days. We made it a point to stay out the other’s way. So it wasn’t a shock to me when he ignored the doorbell, even though he was in the room closest to it. I blindly opened the door because I was expecting a few friends to come over and help with the move.
“Wha…What are you doing here? Ho…How…How do you know where I live,” I asked stammering.
“What? You’re not happy to see me,” he asked while forcing himself through the door.
“Kenzu, you need to leave. NOW!”
“Why are you trembling?”
I slowly moved back when he extended his arm to my face.
“Sabra, my Queen, did he do this to you?”
“I saw the news, Kenzu. The police are looking for you. How could you do that to her?”
What happened next happened in fast forward. My husband must’ve been listening the whole time because he came around the corner with his gun drawn. In reaction, Kenzu drew his. Some words were exchanged, then gunshots. Before the shots rang out, Kenzu pushed me to the floor, to spare me. I crawled into the closet and kept my head covered until there was silence. The next thing I knew, you were at my house, coaxing me out the closet.
Two detectives took me to the nearest police station and questioned me for countless hours.
“Mmm huh,” the detective said and nodded. “So what you’re saying is you never had a sexual relationship with the now deceased suspect?”
“He just showed up at your house out of nowhere?”
“Well, ma’am, we’re not gonna hold you any longer. Clearly this was a love triangle gone terribly bad.” said the detective. “It’s unfortunate that two people lost their lives in the process.”
I started crying all over again, though I knew it didn’t make the least bit of difference. I gathered my things then headed to the hospital to check on my husband’s well-being and beg for forgiveness.
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