Free Young Wives by Goldsmith Olivia Page A

sex—Clinton and Tonya together—she just didn’t care. Ten years ago she would have been filled with jealousy. She had thought that making love to Clinton was central to her life. Now she didn’t even miss it. Sleeping beside him was bad enough. Sex would be…well, she was too angry, too tired, and too disappointed in him to want it.
    Jada didn’t think Clinton loved her. He just needed her, wanted her to love him. And she couldn’t. Clinton sometimes still wanted to make love to her. Clinton had wanted their baby. Clinton took good care of the baby now. But Jada didn’t feel like making love to him, and she didn’t feel like taking care of him. She wanted him to take care of her . She’d lost respect for Clinton and perhaps she had some responsibility for this pathetic affair with Tonya.
    Jada had only been surprised that Clinton had bothered to tell her at all. He’d never bothered before. Surprisingly, she had merely thought, “One fewer thing I have to do. Let Tonya listen to his bullshit rap about the next useless, unrealistic scheme he’s going to fail at.” Jada realized then that she hadn’t really listened to him in years, after dozens of plans she had listened to, had critiqued and prayed for, had ended in nothing. Yet men had to be listened to by someone.
    What she had to have, what she was working herself to the bone for, was a stable family. She wanted to live in their house, the house Clinton had begun but still hadn’t ever finished, and she wanted to see the kids do well in the community and really well in school. She wanted to see Shavonne win the local ice skating finals and go to the prom. She wanted Kevon to get his math scores straightened out and wind up with a scholarship to a really good college. She wanted the children to grow up with a father, as they’d both pledged before God. They all needed him there. He had to watch the baby while she worked. He’d promised to help raise the children. She didn’t think about the quality of her marriage—what was the point? But they had to have this Talk. Too bad she was so damn tired. She was always tired. Jada got to the door of their bedroom, and Clinton was right behind her. “I’m getting ready for work,” she said.
    “I thought we were going to talk,” Clinton said.
    Of course, he was right. She had begun this, but somehow between the kitchen clean-up, the dining room, the laundry check, and the assorted other things she had tried to get done, she had very little energy left. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I did say that.”
    “I’m going to make up my mind,” Clinton said. “I promise you. I’ll get my life in order.”
    He was making her crazy. “Déjà vu all over again,” Jada said without attempting irony or humor. She turned around and faced Clinton for the first time since they were in the kitchen and realized she still wanted to slap his face. “Do you realize that you said the exact same thing, in this exact spot, in the exact same tone of voice, one month ago?”
    “What are you talking about?” Clinton asked, already defensive. The man was DAS—dumb and stupid—if he didn’t see what was coming.
    “Let me refresh your memory.” Jada started straightening up the bed. She hated to lie down in a rat’s nest of messy bed clothes. It amazed her that Clinton couldn’t even pull up the sheets and blanket when he got out of their bed—hours later than she did—each morning.
    “You explained about Tonya back then,” Jada said, keeping her voice neutral. “When you started drinking truth serum along with your Bud Lite in the afternoon.” It was unproductive to use sarcasm, she reminded herself. She stood on her side of the bed. But Clinton didn’t react. This man was oblivious to everything. “Clinton,” she said to him, “to tell you the truth, I don’t care what you do with your johnson. But I do care about this family. And I’m not letting your selfish-ass ways destroy it. I’ve given my