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Authors: Mahaughani Fiyah
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my husband, the other one, was wrapped in a blanket of worry, confusion, and slow building rage.
The next morning when I woke I was not yet ready to deal with the present. I wanted to linger in the past a little while longer so I avoided the phone. The phone Asanti bought for me. I knew that if I picked it up I would be tempted to answer it when it rang again. I would be tempted to check the multiple messages that I was sure he had left. I couldn’t handle that reality just yet so I ignored it. Left it in my purse unchecked and went on with my day. It felt good to be drama free and at peace again.
I was in a much better mood when the entire family sat down to that table for prayer and breakfast. A better mood than the one I was in the previous night at dinner. We laughed. We joked. We did all of the family things we had been doing since we became a family. The familiar kept me sane even if only for a little while.
It saddened me when breakfast was over and every one headed off to their separate days. The kids to school, and Ashton to his architectural firm. It made me a bit nervous to be alone again, to be faced with the prospect of dealing with my present and, even worse, my future. So I chose to avoid rather than deal. I chose to escape rather than face. I chose housework over thought. And after drowning myself in some much needed chores and blasting my stereo speakers as it pumped out my favorite Motown oldies, I was feeling pretty good in no time at all.
When I was done with all of the cleaning, and my mind tried to take me there, to Washington, to Asanti, I directed myself to prayer. I needed prayer, needed to get back to God. But with everything I had done, would God even hear my prayers? Would he even find me worthy to talk to him while I was married to two men at the same time? The sanctity of marriage was sacred and I had violated it in the worst way. Could I go to God and ask for help with something so heinous? Could I confess to being a whore and partly loving it?
I shook my head at those thoughts. I knew I needed to pray, to talk to God, to ask Him to make things right within me so I could make things right within my life. But my conscience wouldn’t allow me to ask for forgiveness for something I knew I would continue to do, even if it was just for a little while. So rather than pray and get my mind together, get my life together, I turned my thoughts to my office and decided to get some work done. Even If I was home a day early and could rest easy and relax for a minute, my mind had already shown me that it wouldn’t let me, so I chose to keep busy. I needed to keep busy.
“Hey Marilyn,” I spoke into the phone after dialing the number to my editor and very good friend.
“Hey yourself, London,” she sang back into the receiver. “Whatcha doing back so early?”
I was just about to question how she knew I was home when the answer dawned on me. I seemed often to forget that we were in the day and age of technology and that her caller id gave my whereabouts away.
“I missed the family, couldn’t wait to see them and now I can’t wait to see you either.”
“Oh, I’m so touched,” Marilyn feigned mushy gratitude.
I laughed out loud. It felt good. “But seriously,” I continued, “can we move our meeting from tomorrow to today? I really need to knock out a few things this week and I may as well start with what’s most important.”
“Actually I’m glad you called because the in-laws are coming in tomorrow from Maine and I was going to have to reschedule anyway. So you’re doing me a big favor,” she rushed into the phone. Marilyn usually rushed with everything. Being the mother of three sets of twins did that to a person. “I have a busy week ahead of me.”
“Why are they coming here?” I wanted to know.
“Because they really like being a pain in my ass, and leaving that for the holidays only is pure torture for them.”
I laughed again. Marilyn was nothing if not
The next morning when I woke I was not yet ready to deal with the present. I wanted to linger in the past a little while longer so I avoided the phone. The phone Asanti bought for me. I knew that if I picked it up I would be tempted to answer it when it rang again. I would be tempted to check the multiple messages that I was sure he had left. I couldn’t handle that reality just yet so I ignored it. Left it in my purse unchecked and went on with my day. It felt good to be drama free and at peace again.
I was in a much better mood when the entire family sat down to that table for prayer and breakfast. A better mood than the one I was in the previous night at dinner. We laughed. We joked. We did all of the family things we had been doing since we became a family. The familiar kept me sane even if only for a little while.
It saddened me when breakfast was over and every one headed off to their separate days. The kids to school, and Ashton to his architectural firm. It made me a bit nervous to be alone again, to be faced with the prospect of dealing with my present and, even worse, my future. So I chose to avoid rather than deal. I chose to escape rather than face. I chose housework over thought. And after drowning myself in some much needed chores and blasting my stereo speakers as it pumped out my favorite Motown oldies, I was feeling pretty good in no time at all.
When I was done with all of the cleaning, and my mind tried to take me there, to Washington, to Asanti, I directed myself to prayer. I needed prayer, needed to get back to God. But with everything I had done, would God even hear my prayers? Would he even find me worthy to talk to him while I was married to two men at the same time? The sanctity of marriage was sacred and I had violated it in the worst way. Could I go to God and ask for help with something so heinous? Could I confess to being a whore and partly loving it?
I shook my head at those thoughts. I knew I needed to pray, to talk to God, to ask Him to make things right within me so I could make things right within my life. But my conscience wouldn’t allow me to ask for forgiveness for something I knew I would continue to do, even if it was just for a little while. So rather than pray and get my mind together, get my life together, I turned my thoughts to my office and decided to get some work done. Even If I was home a day early and could rest easy and relax for a minute, my mind had already shown me that it wouldn’t let me, so I chose to keep busy. I needed to keep busy.
“Hey Marilyn,” I spoke into the phone after dialing the number to my editor and very good friend.
“Hey yourself, London,” she sang back into the receiver. “Whatcha doing back so early?”
I was just about to question how she knew I was home when the answer dawned on me. I seemed often to forget that we were in the day and age of technology and that her caller id gave my whereabouts away.
“I missed the family, couldn’t wait to see them and now I can’t wait to see you either.”
“Oh, I’m so touched,” Marilyn feigned mushy gratitude.
I laughed out loud. It felt good. “But seriously,” I continued, “can we move our meeting from tomorrow to today? I really need to knock out a few things this week and I may as well start with what’s most important.”
“Actually I’m glad you called because the in-laws are coming in tomorrow from Maine and I was going to have to reschedule anyway. So you’re doing me a big favor,” she rushed into the phone. Marilyn usually rushed with everything. Being the mother of three sets of twins did that to a person. “I have a busy week ahead of me.”
“Why are they coming here?” I wanted to know.
“Because they really like being a pain in my ass, and leaving that for the holidays only is pure torture for them.”
I laughed again. Marilyn was nothing if not
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