Free His Last Name by Daaimah S. Poole Page B

everything that Kadir wanted. The first thing on his list was a pool. The house was seventy-five hundred square feet. It belonged to a family from Turkey. Their father was retiring and going back home and they weren’t ready to sell their house yet.
    We decided that we would stay here for a year and then buy in the area. Kadir’s agent said a few of the other players lived in the neighborhood.
    Everything was good, but we did have a whole new set of problems. We were both still adjusting to having money. For the first week, I went shopping every day just because I could. I was picking up things I didn’t need, but the fact that I could afford them gave me a rush. I had a junk room of things I needed to return. Kadir bought another Benz, but in white. He said he always wanted white-on-white. I had to tell my Ka that four cars was enough. I was going to yell at him, but he knew it was a dumb decision and took the car back without me even saying anything.
    I had to change my phone number twice. I knew people were crazy, but not as crazy as my neighbor who asked me to pay for her father’s funeral. She didn’t even speak to me when I lived on the block. I felt bad for her, but I didn’t know him. Then two ladies from my old job told me they wanted to start their own day care and asked if I could help them with an initial investment of fifty thousand. I’m just learning people are insane. I would never ask anyone that wasn’t family for anything.

C HAPTER 13
    Tiffany
    D amien had been lying in the bed lifeless for weeks. My once handsome, clean-shaven, ripped husband had turned into an average looking, scruffy-bearded, unkempt man. As each day passed, I was becoming more aggravated and disgusted by him.
    He barely got up to go to the bathroom and would hardly eat. When he was up, he was staring at the ceiling or at the television. I wanted to not care, to give up and hide away from the world in the house, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I was being suffocated by his depression. Being crazy wasn’t an option. There had to be one sane person in this marriage. Somebody had to get up and make some money. I came to the realization that I had to get a job and feed us.
    He filed for bankruptcy, and we had to move out in six weeks, by August 15. I began packing, but I didn’t know where we’d be moving to. That’s one of the things that frustrated me about Damien. He kept me in the dark about everything, and that’s why we were in the predicament we were in.
    I couldn’t live like that anymore, so I applied for a few positions at various companies and even some temp agencies. I worked at an agency when I was in college, so I knew that their hiring process was fast and I would get paid quickly. I used my maiden name on my résumé. Damien’s name was plastered everywhere, and I didn’t want anyone to know I was his wife.
    I got a call back from an insurance company, and I was on my way to interview with the company. “I’m going out. There’s some soup and crackers on the table if you want it. I’ll be back after my interview.” I stopped and came back. I felt like I had to say something reassuring to him. “When I get back, you better be up.”
    The interview went well; I was hired on the spot. I thought I would go right into management or something, but I didn’t have any experience anywhere doing anything, so the only position that I was qualified for was entry level, which meant I would be answering telephones and informing people of their benefit options. I would make two dollars more than the people who didn’t have a degree. Which didn’t make any sense, but it was what it was.
    I dialed my mother, and my stepfather, Wilson, answered the telephone. “May I speak to my mother, please?”
    â€œYour mother is out in the garden. Do you want me to get her?”
    â€œWhat is she doing in the