Waiting to Exhale by Terry McMillan

slippers and a diamond ring what looked as big as that one Liz Taylor got? It looked like she'd been crying, 'cause her eyes was blood red, but then again, he thought, it could be drugs. That's probably it. She ain't been to sleep. A whole heap of these rich white women what live up here don't do nothin' but pop pills and drink all day long, 'cause they come in here to get their liquor and I see them little white bags with the writing on 'em from Walgreen's when they open their purses. That's a shame, he thought, as he watched Bernadine try to stuff all those bills inside her wallet. This one here's black.
    Bernadine had not remembered leaving the house, or driving, or the fact that John had left before her. She did not remember falling down the two steps outside her bedroom when she had gone to look for her purse. She didn't know that right this minute the kids were still asleep, alone in the house, nor did she realize that for February, it was a record 90 degrees outside. When she got back into her car and turned on the ignition, not only did she not hear it, but her hands didn't feel the steering wheel, and the music coming out of the radio sounded muffled and distant, even though it was loud. Bernadine was trying to keep her eyes open, and when she looked out the window, everything she saw was gray. She knew that heat was silver, but when she blinked, everything was still gray. She pushed in the lighter and ripped the cellophane off the pack. When the lighter popped out, she lit her cigarette and sucked in the cool smoke. She did not cough. She sank into the sheepskinned seat, pushed the gear in reverse, pulled out of the parking space without looking over her shoulder, and tried to remember which way led home.

    Chapter 3

Waiting to Exhale (1992)

FORGET WHAT I JUST SAID
    They say love is a two-way street. But I don't believe it, because the one I've been on for the last two years was a dirt road. I finally gave up on Russell-a lying, sneaky, whorish Pisces-after realizing he was never gonna marry me. The first time I asked him about it, he said, "Just be patient, baby." And I was. Six more months went by, and he never once brought the subject back up. That's when it dawned on me that I could be living with him for the rest of my life.
    Last January, we went to see The Accidental Tourist and came home and made some serious love. I knew Russell was in a luscious mood , so I figured this was the perfect time to bring it up again. And you know what he said? That marriage was a scary thing and he still wasn't ready to "make that move" yet.
    I pushed him off of me and sat up. "What's so scary about it?"
    "Everything," he said, and started stroking my breasts.
    "Russell, it's not prison," I said, and brushed his hand away. "We1 ve been living together a whole year. What's the difference?"
    "There's a big difference."
    "Russell, do you really love me?"
    "Of course I love you," he said, and started kissing my arm.
    "Don't I make you happy?"
    "Very."
    "Don't I satisfy you?"
    "Definitely."
    "Then I don't understand what the problem is. You're thirty- seven years old, Russell."
    "I know that."
    "And I'll be thirty-five in six months."
    "I know that too," he said. Now he was circling my belly button with his index finger.
    "Well, when do you think you'll be ready?" I said, and slapped the top of his hand.
    "Soon," he said, and rolled over. "I do wanna marry you, Robin. But it's a big commitment, and I'm just trying to get used to the whole idea. And as soon as I am, believe me, baby, you'll be the first to know."
    So, like a fool, I kept my fingers crossed and hung in there another six months. I didn't wanna lose Russell. I'd had five serious relationships over the last seven years, and two of them ended because they met somebody else. I was determined not to let that happen again. I did everything in my power to make sure Russell would keep loving me. I kept myself up. Worked out four days a week, and he hardly ever saw me without