Behind Closed Doors Read Online Free Page B

typical. As soon as two black people start building something good together, one of them always tries to find a way to tear it down. Hell, if I wanted a man who throws his money away, I could’ve stayed married to that jackass I divorced six years ago.”
    John looked at Karen as if he didn’t know who she was. He could clearly see that it was his wife standing in front of him, but it was the tone of her voice and choice of words that confused him. She was starting to make a habit of this. Lately, it had been hard to believe that this was the same woman who had graduated from high school in three years in a college preparatory program, maintained a 3.8 grade point average while completing her bachelor’s degree in finance at the University of Illinois in Champaign, and completed an MBA program with honors while working full-time. And it definitely didn’t sound like the same woman who was usually offended when he or anyone else used an excessive amount of vulgarity while in her presence. Shit, she was reminding him of those women he had seen on one of the talk shows a couple of weeks ago, when he’d skippedwork and gone to the track. He couldn’t remember if it had been Oprah, Sally, or Jenny he was watching, but that really didn’t matter. What did matter was that those women were being verbally abused by their husbands, and he felt like he was getting the same treatment from Karen.
    “Don’t you have anything to say?” Karen asked.
    “What do you want me to say? I mean, I’m sorry for what I did, but I know you don’t want to hear—”
    “You’re damn right, I don’t want to hear that shit.”
    If she was going to keep cutting him off, why did she ask him if he had anything to say? “I don’t know what else to say, except I’m sorry and that I really learned my lesson tonight. This was the last time I’ll be going out to Arlington on a Friday evening. Or any evening for that matter. So help me God.”
    “I think you better leave God out of this. Especially since you know you’re not telling the truth. You don’t even know what the truth is when it comes to gambling. You need to check the yellow pages for some help, because you obviously can’t stop this crap on your own.”
    “I don’t need any help. I’ve got this all under control. Tonight was the last night. You can believe that.”
    “I’m not believing shit, because you’ve been giving me that same sob story for the last three weeks, and I’m not listening to it anymore. Either you’re going to cut it out or get the hell out of this house. Take your pick, brother.”
    Karen flipped the light switch to the off position as hard as she could and stormed through the great room,leaving John standing there in the dark. She couldn’t see too well, and without paying much attention, she jammed her baby toe on the edge of the antique-white pillar at the base of the stairway. She screamed and then instantly reached down for her toe, grasping it as tight as she could. The pain raced through her entire foot. This was the same toe she had struck on the corner of the bed last Friday when she had been, once again, arguing with John, and she hoped like hell she hadn’t broken it this time. Damn, he was already causing her major heartaches and mental distress, but now this shit was starting to get physical.
    After she hopped back up to the second level, she opened the linen closet and pulled out a royal blue comforter and a pillow, went back over to the top of the stairs, and threw them both down to the main floor. “You can sleep on the basement sofa, the floor, or wherever, just so long as you don’t bring your trifling ass up here.”
    John was standing at the bottom of the stairs about to take his first step up when the comforter struck him in the face. “You can’t be serious. Do you actually think I’m going to sleep on the floor or the sofa, when we’ve got a huge guest bedroom upstairs? Woman, you must be crazy.”
    Karen scrunched her