AINSLEY ADAMS

Resilence

I’m either going to kiss this man or stab him with a knife. I’ll know which in about ten minutes. Gavin had given me the nervous glare accompanied by his mild stutter, something that he hasn’t done since the 7th grade. “B-Baby, don’t be mad… You know I was with Kenny and Nick. We went to The Clubhouse, and you know, boys will be boys.” He allowed the light-hearted chuckle to escape his lips. I wasn’t the least bit amused. The Clubhouse, a gentleman’s club cited as Members only so bored husbands could do their dirt without judgment. But I knew better. It wasn’t the first time that he was involved in an affair. My eyes darted towards his appearance, the usual prim and pressed suits with gold cufflinks. Gavin always ensured that he was clean, down to his feet, from the top of his bald head. Yet tonight was different. His clothing was disheveled. He was sloppy. “Yeah, I know….” The tone in my voice went from the standard light stay-at-home wife to Ursula, the husky middle-aged southern black woman who kept her household in line. “So what… Did you do it?” I asked him again. In the meantime, my hand gripped the edge of the counter. It was so close that I could feel its imprint embedded within the palm of my hand. He was silent.