Saint And Sinners (82 page)

“Oh shit, what happened?”

“Hmm, yeah, that’s a damn good question. We kinda got into it this morning. It was
one of the oddest arguments I’ve ever had with the woman. It made no sense whatsoever.
Look, I’m about to come inside. Is the construction done on my floor? I don’t want
to hear all that shit right now.”

“Yes, there is no one on our floor working right now except one guy laying carpet
in the conference room. Come on in; get parked. I’m coming to your office.” And then
the call abruptly ended. In less than ten minutes, Saint was inside and the man stood
in his office, sitting in front of him with his hands steepled together. Saint gave
him the entire run-down, and even after repeating the shit, he still couldn’t make
heads or tails of it.

“Lawrence, something isn’t right. And by the way, it’s not like me to discuss my private
life like this, but you warned me about this, so I had to bring it up. Please don’t
discuss this with anyone. Let’s keep it between the two of us.”

“Of course.”

“I don’t know what to do.” He was so perplexed and exasperated. “On one hand, it feels
like the woman is having an affair. She is completely disconnected from me. I’ve felt
that from her before, after the whole Payton ignominy, so I recognize it. On the other
hand, she didn’t appear to be lying to me either. She told me to read her, so I did,
though I didn’t let her know I took her up on her offer. Man, she’s clean, not hiding
a damn thing.”

“And you say this started last night?” Lawrence asked as he leaned back in his seat.

“Yeah. She and I had had great conversations on and off throughout the day yesterday.
She was cheerful, frisky even. She flirted with me on the damn phone, I thought we
were going to spend time with the kids, make love and chill last night after they
went to bed… She seemed to be on top of the world. Then when I got home, she acted
completely different, Lawrence. She was run down. So tired, I could see it in her
eyes, so I told her to go on upstairs and take a break.

“I watched the kids and got them ready for bed. I tried to initiate sex with her last
night, but she didn’t budge, pushed me away. I didn’t think much of it; she was tired,
right? Then I tried again a few hours later, this morning, and she actually became
violent with me, Lawrence!” His chest heaved as he relived the horror. “She was acting
like I was trying to attack her or something, trying to fuck her without consent or
some shit! Like I’d
ever
force myself on her.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You have no idea how that
made me feel, man!” He was hollering now, but he couldn’t control himself.

“…I could imagine.” Lawrence casually crossed his legs. “Saint, you are rather upset
and that is understandable. Are you going to be okay for the conference later on tonight?”
It was obvious the man was trying to keep from riling him up any further.

“Yeah.” Saint ran a hand over his face. “We made up before I left but…”

“But what?”

“Something still didn’t feel right…like when I kissed ’er, man.” He paused and scratched
the side of his jaw. “She was stiff, almost resistant. It was like…she… I don’t know.
I just don’t know.” He shook his head in puzzlement. “Lawrence, it’s fine.” Saint
waved him away. “Just uh, go on and take care of what you need to do. Can you lead
the meeting today?”

“Of course I can.” Lawrence slowly rose to his feet. “Is there anything you need?
Anything I can do?”

“No, thanks for listening to me, though. I need a second. I’m going to get ready to
go in a few minutes. I’ll call you later though.” Saint looked down at his computer
keyboard, feeling a bit defeated.

“Okay, make sure that you do. Are you sure you don’t want me or Jagger to try to go
to Chicago today with you? I can look at flights and—”

“Nah, I’m good. You’ll be able to watch via satellite if you want.”

“I will. Okay…” The man sighed. “See you later then.” Lawrence walked sluggishly to
the office door, looked back at Saint, and left.

His friend felt badly for him, hated how brokenhearted he was, how his marriage was
impaired and couldn’t grasp what the hell was going on. One of Saint’s worst nightmares
was coming true.

His Queen didn’t desire him anymore…

*

X
enia sat on
Traci and Jagger’s brand new snow-white couch. It had been ordered before they knew
of her pregnancy, and though it was absolutely gorgeous, Xenia smirked on the inside
knowing the damn thing would be destroyed with a baby running around their home…

Still, even thoughts of a new infant to hold and babysit didn’t ease her mind, at
least not more than a second or two. Deep in thought, she took a timid sip of her
hot cup of tea her friend provided her, tapping her fingertips against it.

“Xenia, you need to talk to Saint about this,” Traci urged, breaking the silence as
she crossed her legs.

“I can’t, because I don’t understand it quite myself… Traci, he’d be devastated.”
She looked woefully at the woman. “It came on all the sudden. It’s like a nightmare
I can’t wake up from! Without getting into a bunch of personal details…” She blushed
a bit as she recalled their episode on the subway train. “I have always wanted him
in that way, Traci. Even when I have been dead tired, I still would give it up more
times than not, because I knew once we got started, I’d be wiiiide awake.” She shook
her head, causing Traci to smile and nod in understanding. “And, it’s not just sex;
it is all forms of physical attraction and expression.”

“Do you still feel in love?” Traci’s eyes glossed over as she spoke.

Xenia felt grateful the woman cared enough to make her come to her home for the evening.
Her mother had her children and she thanked her lucky stars her mama was in town after
all.

“Yes! That is what makes this even more confusing. I love him just as much as I
ever
did; it is just the physical aspect.”

“I know sometimes I am tired, too, but I get what you’re saying. This sounds more
than that. Xenia, if this doesn’t pass soon, you may need to see someone.”

“I know…I know.” She sniffed, set her teacup down on the table and wiped her running
nose. “My allergies have been acting up.”

“Xenia, you don’t have to pretend with me. It’s okay if you want to cry…” Traci rose
and sat directly next to her, wrapping her arm tightly around Xenia’s waist, bringing
her close.

“Xenia, we’re friends and I can’t imagine how you feel but I’m here for you!” She
squeezed her closer as Xenia dabbed at her swollen eyes. “It’s alright, hell, I’d
want to cry, too, but there has to be a way to overcome this. We’ll figure it out.”
Traci kissed her cheek.

“Thank you, Traci.” Xenia sniffed and wiped her nose once again. She grabbed her purse
at her side, dug inside and pulled out her phone. “Let me send him a quick text message…
He is about to get on stage and knowing him the way I do, considering what is going
on, a word from me might help.”

Traci nodded in agreement.

Saint, I want to wish you good luck tonight and may you be of great assistance to
the Rainbeaus that are there to receive your wisdom. I know you will knock ’em dead.
I love you so much! –Xenia

*

Saint tapped the
toe of his black and white shoe against the stage as he gripped his cell phone. He
couldn’t help but smile; her timing was perfect. He read and re-read the text message
Xenia had just sent him as people finished getting settled in the large, jam-packed
Auditorium Theatre at Roosevelt University in Chicago, Illinois. He slid his phone
back, but not before ensuring it was turned off, then listened quietly as the host
announced him and the other men on the panel. Tonight, he would be broaching and exploring
topics he seldom had, but realized they were quite important, nevertheless. He’d taken
great care to get himself prepared, despite the personal obstacles he was currently
facing. He was determined to get to the bottom of Xenia’s problem, for any problem
she was having was his problem as well. He was her husband. He loved her, and anytime
she wasn’t herself, upset, irritated, annoyed or worried, he would do anything he
could to bring her peace. On a more selfish level, he needed whatever this was to
be nipped in the bud as soon as possible. The thought of going without lovemaking
for an extended period of time caused him great anxiety. He couldn’t let that happen;
not now, not never.

“…And without further ado, we present Dr. Saint Aknaten!” He’d missed practically
his entire introduction as he drowned in his mounting uncertainties. Regardless, he
was centered now. The place lit up in cheers as music burst through the speakers,
bringing him right into his zone, pushing him away from his thoughts of a love life
in jeopardy. He jumped to his feet, animated, full of life, and did a 360 turn, clapping
his hands together then tapping the microphone attached to his dark red button shirt
to ensure it was on.

“Alright, you worthy sons of bitches!” he yelled as he approached the middle of the
stage, causing uproar. Men jumped to their feet, applauding him. “Yeah…it’s Saturday
‘knight’, with a ‘K’…’cause you need to be a
knight
in shining armor, mothafucka!”

More clapping ensued—and whistles, too.

“She don’t need savin’, the Black Queen… You do! So dress up for your part!” He now
could barely hear himself over all the commotion. His star power erupted, and it thrilled
him. “Alright…” He grinned as the host raced over and handed him a chilled bottle
of water. Latching onto to the thing, he quickly unscrewed the cap, breaking the seal.
He took a long, hearty swig, after which he handed it back to him. “Thank you, man.”

The host nodded and skirted away, taking a seat.

“Now, tonight, we are going to talk about some
real
shit. So, take your seats, relax and most important of all, listen.” He paced the
stage a few times as he waited for the crowd to settle down and get situated.

“Tonight’s discussion title is provocative within itself, though it was not done by
design. It is what so many of us have heard throughout this journey as you take steps
to reach your goals or to help solidify the existing relationship with your black
Goddess. As you all know, tonight’s conference is called, ‘White Man’s Whore.’”

Owwws and Ahhhs ensued, followed by light babble. Saint cracked a crooked smile.

“That’s right.” He started to pace, his gaze first on the stage, then on the audience.
“We’ve all heard it, now let’s talk about it and what it means to us.” He pointed
to himself and then the crowd. “Let’s see what it entails, dissect it, piece by piece,
so that we can fully understand the concept. Now…” He paused, then began to pace the
stage slowly but surely once again. “When you hear of a black woman being called,
‘The White Man’s Whore’ because she dated and married interracially, that is more
of a reflection on the accuser, than on the woman. You see,” he said, clearing his
throat, “There was no notion of a, say…”—he shrugged his shoulders—‘A White Woman’s
Stud’, in this same context… As usual it refers to men demeaning woman, a hypocritical
notion. If you look at the interracial statistics in this country, black men have
been having sexual intercourse, dating and marrying non-black women to a much higher
degree than black women and for a far lengthier time. Black women are
still
the least likely to date and marry interracially, even after more social acceptance;
it is still taboo in their minds.