Free 5 Minutes and 42 Seconds by Timothy Williams Page B

like it is in the soap operas. Hell, Erica has had seven or eight husbands, and a heap more than thatwho wanted the honor. In the real world we got to move heaven and earth to get a ring.
    I started begging him to marry me, but he ain’t listen. He told me his love for me was deeper than hot and heavy sweating and a piece of paper signed by a judge who’ll probably put him in jail someday. He told me I meant the world to him. That he was going to create a special kind of life for the both of us. A life that wasn’t like nobody else’s. Said he had to. I said okay, but I didn’t really want no special life. I told him just having a fine, rich, black husband to take care of me and my children would have been special enough. I don’t think that was asking too much. Shit, to look back on it, I could have had any man I wanted. A real baller, somebody with real money that’s legit. Money that don’t got to be cleaned, and a husband that can fuck. I could have had a real life. Damn him.
    We went to the Fourth of July cookout at his momma’s house, and his brothers got to talking about sex. Fashad’s the youngest of six, so they always trying to tell him how to do everything. Even fuck. Maniac, the most drunk muthafucka of them all, got on top of me right in front of his wife, Stella. He started jerking and gyrating on me like I was his right hand, talking about: “You got to beat it up like this, Fashad…. Fashad don’t do it like this, do he?” he asked from in between my legs.
    Back then I didn’t even think about it being disrespectful for a man to be on top of me like that. I was laughing right along with them when I told them, “Fashad don’t do it no way, because me and Fashad don’t fuck.” Then they startedin on him something crucial. I tried to defend him by saying he don’t believe in sex before marriage. They said he wasn’t no kind of Christian no way. They said he had sugar in his tank and was sweet like Pie. Fashad grabbed me and we left. I ain’t never seen him so angry.
    That night he damn near ripped my clothes off. I ain’t never had it like that before, and ain’t had it like that since. We did it so many times even the orgasms couldn’t stop the pain in my back. He would come, and then come again, and then come again. When he finally finished he threw the phone at me and hit me on the forehead. He told me to call Maniac’s wife, Stella, and tell her all about it. I didn’t even like the bitch, but he insisted, and that was rare. Normally Fashad didn’t give a shit about anything I did, so when he looked at me like he was going to leave me if I didn’t call her, I called.
    His momma phoned to check up on him the next day. She told him he needed to find a girl to settle down with. Said she knew he was her “good little Christian boy,” but folks talk. Fashad always wanted to be so classy, so in his eyes Detroit was never good enough. The next day he took me to a jewelry store in Chicago. He didn’t tell me why we were in the store. He just asked the nice white lady behind the desk for the biggest wedding band she had. I got all excited, and then he finished the sentence—“for a man.” He said he didn’t care how much it cost. Said it didn’t have to be the most expensive, but if it was, that was fine too, long as it was the biggest. Said he wanted eagles, astronauts, and aliens to know he was married. He turned to me and askedif I would belong to him. It was the worst marriage proposal I’d ever heard. Still, it was the only proposal anyone had ever offered me, so I told him yes.
    We got married and produced my youngest son, Taj. Fashad was a good father at first. If you didn’t know, you wouldn’t have even been able to tell that Dream and JD weren’t just as much his as Taj was. He bought them the world. He took Dream to some father-daughter dance. He