Read Online God Ain't Through Yet by Mary Monroe - Free Book Online

you before.”
    â€œHmmm. That’s the same thing you said yesterday when I got home. You know, you don’t have to be doin’ all this. We ain’t so young no more. Listen up, all them positions that you twistin’ me in and out of these days, they are fun, but my back ain’t what it used to be, baby.” He laughed. I laughed, too.
    â€œDo you want me to stop giving you so much special attention?” I asked with an exaggerated pout.
    â€œNaw, you ain’t got to stop showin’ me so much attention. But it would make more sense if you showed me the kind of attention that wasn’t so physical. At the rate we’re goin’, I’ll be dead soon.”
    I continued to pamper my husband, but only half as much. He seemed pleased and appreciative. By the end of that month, things had become downright humdrum. I got tired just looking at his face as he slumped in his ancient La-Z-Boy snoring like a moose.
    Despite all of my efforts, Pee Wee reminded me of the same old sad sack that he’d been when I had the affair! I made up excuses to get out of the house so I wouldn’t have to look at his long face.
    Thankfully, he continued to make love to me. And if he had stopped doing that again, too, I was still determined not to have another affair again.
    There was no way I was going to let another affair disrupt or ruin my marriage.
    â€œBaby, you’ve been down in the dumps a lot lately, and I don’t like to see you like that,” I told Pee Wee over dinner one evening. He had come home from the barbershop looking more depressed than ever. Our daughter, Charlotte, noticed it, too.
    â€œDaddy, you look like a grumpy old man,” she told him, rushing through dinner so she could flee and go do whatever it was kids her age liked to do. Unlike me, Charlotte had never had to worry about her weight. She had just gobbled up three spicy chicken legs and a mountain of mashed potatoes. I’d steamed a skinless chicken breast and stir-fried some vegetables for myself. I ate fried chicken and most of the other fatty foods that I had consumed over the years only once or twice a week now. And since I’d shared a slab of ribs with Pee Wee and Charlotte for dinner the day before, I planned to eat skinless chicken and steamed veggies for a while.
    â€œI am a grumpy old man, and I’m goin’ to be one until I’m a dead old man,” Pee Wee said with a straight face.
    Charlotte, who had her father’s rich mocha skin, cute features, and long, thin arms, rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Can I be excused?” she asked, glancing at the Mickey Mouse watch on her narrow wrist. “I get bored sitting around old people.”
    â€œYou go clean up your room,” I ordered, using the sternest tone of voice that I could manage.
    â€œOh, I’d rather sit here and be bored than do that,” my daughter decided, rubbing her small, button-like nose.
    â€œI think she should go clean up that pigsty of a room,” Pee Wee said, nodding in agreement.
    â€œI want you to go over that room with a fine-toothed comb until you find that earring of mine that I told you to stop playing with,” I told my daughter. “And don’t you ever get into my jewelry box again. Do you hear me?”
    â€œYes, ma’am. Do I have to look for that old earring now?”
    â€œYes, you do, so get on it.” Pee Wee cleared his throat. It was impossible for me not to notice how distracted and nervous he was acting. I knew him well enough to know that there was something on his mind, and it was probably something I didn’t want to hear. My first thought was that it was something physical. That thought chilled me down to the bottom of my feet. I didn’t think I could deal with that. Last year when he had that cancer scare, he had not even told me about it until he received a clean bill of health from his doctor. That news had almost destroyed