Big Girls Drama by Tresser Henderson Page B

out I have Chlamydia.”
    Jeffrey stood, stunned by my words.
    â€œI wondered where in the world I could have gotten this from, because I knew I wasn’t cheating. I hoped my husband hadn’t cheated on me again, but then I come home to this .”
    â€œKellie.”
    â€œThe STD is not the worst part. Because of your inconsiderate actions, I may not ever be able to have a child of my own.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThat’s right, Jeffrey. This STD may have affected my chances of ever having kids.”
    â€œBaby, I’m sorry.”
    I chuckled as I said, “And for the life of me, I can’t understand why I’m not whooping your freaking ass right now. I mean, really,” I said stepping closer to him. “Why am I not tearing this house up? Why am I not trying to kill you right now?”
    â€œKellie, you need to calm down.”
    â€œDon’t you think I’ve done an amazing job at that already? Haven’t you wondered why I haven’t jumped off the deep end, like I did before?” I asked, still walking toward him.
    Jeffrey was now backing up slowly.
    â€œKellie, we are not going to do this today.”
    â€œWhy not? I mean, I did find out my husband is not only an adulterous bastard, but he like’s fucking men in the ass too.”
    â€œI’m not gay.”
    â€œOh really?” I said coming to a halt as I looked at him with a confused expression on his face.
    â€œHim sucking me doesn’t make me gay.”
    Jeffrey seemed to be getting angry, and this actually amused me. My husband was telling himself anything to convince himself he wasn’t gay, or at least bisexual.
    â€œRight. That’s what all African American down low brothers say.”
    â€œI’m not a down low brother.”
    â€œNo, you just like to dip your dick down low in his ass.”
    Jeffrey rushed toward, me but I didn’t bother to flinch. He stood nose to nose with me, heaving like he wanted to hit me. But I didn’t care. I actually wished he would. It would really give me a reason to kill his ass. Then it would be self-defense.

Monica
    11
    When we walked into the dining room of Devin’s parents’ home, all eyes settled on us. I made sure to look the picture of elegance and grace because I knew how his parents, especially his mother, felt about me. For some reason, they didn’t think I was good enough to be with their son. And the reason for them thinking this way was sitting at the table. My confident demeanor dissipated when my eyes skimmed the room and landed on the last person I expected to see at this dinner tonight.
    â€œSon, you are late,” Mr. Woods admonished. With forehead creased, his father looked sternly at both of us. One of the things his dad didn’t like was un punctuality.
    â€œMy apologies, Dad. I had to work late,” Devin responded as we leisurely walked deeper into the room. I hoped my dissatisfied expression wasn’t noticeable to everyone as his mother spoke.
    â€œIt’s okay, son,” Mrs. Woods said warmly.
    â€œIsabelle, no, it’s not. That boy is working himself to death. He needs to understand family overrides any job he is doing.”
    I could feel Devin tense as I held his arm. I knew he was not happy hearing what his father was saying to him. We hadn’t sat down yet, and his father was already getting on his case. Unfortunately, this was the typical thing my husband had to deal with when visiting with his parents, or should I say, his father.
    Mr. Woods could be a very intimidating individual. His six foot one, 190-pound stature was brawny for a man who was sixty-three years old. His face was clean-shaven, and he still had all of his hair, which was salt and pepper in color and neatly trimmed, making him look quite distinguished. He kept a suit on. It was rare that we saw in him in jeans and sneakers. His version of dressing down was a pair of slacks and a Polo shirt. To