Waiting to Exhale by Terry McMillan Page A

my makeup. I spent a fortune on this weave, and mine looks as good as-if not better than-Janet Jackson's. I used to do my own press-on nails, but I let Gloria give me some acrylics after Bernadine finally told me how tacky they looked. My polish was never chipped, I always got a fill when I needed one, and my feet were never crusty because I got a pedicure once, sometimes twice, a month. I kept this apartment spotless, and Russell never had to so much as empty the trash. I warned him ahead of time that I couldn't cook, but he said he didn't care. He was also the outdoorsy type, liked to go camping, hiking, and fishing. I hated sleeping outside, not being able to go to a real bathroom, and fishing was totally boring, but I didn't complain. I went anyway. And on top of everything else, I gave him as much pussy as he wanted, whenever he wanted it, even when I was dead tired. What more could a man ask for?
    When I first met Russell, he was living with some woman in this super-deluxe apartment complex, but he came home from work one day and she had moved out. Took everything. I hate to say it, but I was glad. I was tired of "laying low" and sneaking. Tired of him getting up in the middle of the night to go home, and really tired of not being able to call him except when she was out of town. He worked on a train, for Southern Pacific Railroad, so I couldn't exactly call him at work. I went over there a few times, but I never slept with him in their bed. That I refused to do. I did have some pride. Russell said that even though he could afford to keep the apartment, what was the point? He had told me at least a hundred times that as soon as he could figure out a way to end the relationship amicably, he would, because he loved me and couldn't wait until the time came when he could be with me twenty-four hours a day. "I guess things happen for a reason, don't they, baby?" he said. This psychic I go to, who's also a numerologist, had just told me something similar the week before: "Timing is everything," she said. And since I was entering a four personal month, she told me that "some mistakes would soon be corrected." She didn't say whose, but look at how things turned out.
    I didn't want to know why that woman had left him, and didn't ask. I was just happy to have him all to myself, which is why, four days later, I let him move in with me. I felt like I had finally been blessed, because Russell was so fine that every black woman in America in her right mind probably wished she could have him. But he was mine now.
    He did have a few problems. Problems I thought I could help fix.
    First of all, Russell was in so much debt I borrowed three thousand dollars from my parents and lent it to him so he wouldn't have to file Chapter 11. He got in a minor car accident, and as it turned out, his insurance had just been canceled, but since I work for one of the biggest insurance companies in Phoenix, I made a few phone calls and was able to get him a backdated policy, and at a cheaper rate than he was paying before. He was having a string of bad luck, because then somebody stole his car, so I cosigned for him to get another one, because he couldn't go to work on his motorcycle.
    To make a long story short, everything was fine until I found that half-slip in his gym bag and noticed quite a few of the Calvin Klein briefs I'd bought him started disappearing. And just like they do on TV, he started playing poker every Friday night with the fellas. Well, color me stupid, because I didn't want to believe he was seeing another woman. My mother always told me that things are never as bad as they look and to always give a person the benefit of the doubt. So I didn't mention the slip to Russell. I racked my brain trying to figure out what I wasn't doing enough of that might make him want to stray. Bernadine said I should just blow his brains out, because that's what she'd do if she ever found out John was cheating on her. Gloria told me to open my eyes and