Big Black Bump In The Road

Amy and I should be home, like any professional couple, relaxing at the end of a hard day's work but instead we're parked in front of the house of man I am about to turn her over to for an hour. My throat feels like it's in my stomach but I feel I should say something.

"I swear to god ... if he harms one hair ..."

Amy grabs my hand, squeezes it. "Dan, look at me."

Looking at her doesn't help. She's a tiny little package with hazel eyes and a head of thick blonde hair and succulent pink lips. My wife and mother of our future children. We met in business school, five years ago, love at first sight.

Her eyes are dry and clear. I wish I could say the same but I've been breaking down all day.

"Dan, what did I make you promise the day you proposed to me? I made you promise that we'd stick together, no matter what, and that if and when we came to any bumps in the road we'd go over them, together. This is just another bump, okay?"

I sniffle and nod. Sticking together is Amy's thing and one of the reasons I love her. It was one of her conditions of marriage though I doubt she ever anticipated a bump in the road like this. This past year I got us into a financial jam with my stupidity and until a couple weeks ago there looked to be no way out.

But the man who's house we're parked in front of, a six-foot-six black slumlord named Cleetis Kennedy put two and two together and out of left field offered us a way out. An appalling, unthinkable alternative that Amy and I wouldn't even mention until weeks later as our troubles were getting deeper and our options getting fewer, we found ourselves discussing it as if it was a real possibility. Like the rational business people we both are, we sat down and measured the costs and benefits against our future, which we agreed, was still very bright and we came to the conclusion that Cleetis' offer was not only the best alternative, it was the only was the alternative, which I'm sure he'd already figured out. That phone call I had to make to accept was the hardest phone call I'd ever made. After that I had to drive to this very house and listen to his rules and conditions then shake his hand. As I was leaving I vomited in his bushes.

Time will tell if we made the right decision. I don't think either of us is sure. The one thing that is sure is that we can't sit in this car any longer, putting what's done. And Cleetis promised me that if I tried to go back on our agreement in any way he'd ruin Amy and I for life and I believe him. He's a ruthless fucking big black pervert, if you ask me.

Amy lifts the door handle. "Let's get this over with," she says.

And then we're on Cleetis walkway, hand in hand, each step bringing us closer to the door behind which is the bed or couch or floor he plans to carry out the unthinkable with my wife, where he's going to be allowed to touch and explore parts of her that until this day have been mine and mine alone. It's a beautiful June day but I feel cold and weak and Amy has to pull me a long. At the porch I stop.

"No," I say. "No."

Amy grabs me by the shoulders, looks at me with the same steely-eyed game face she puts on before going out to close a deal.

"Listen to me, Dan. This is happening. Okay? I've come to terms with it and now you need to too. I need you to be strong, okay?"

I sniffle and nod. "Okay, okay."

She helps me up onto the porch. My mouth is bone-dry and I can't swallow. I lift my hand to ring the bell and Amy catches it and brings it down. "I'll do it, sweetie."

I don't deserve Amy.

Seconds pass and the door opens and Cleetis stands there with his big grin like we're friends dropping in to say hello.

"Welcome! Welcome!"

He sees a neighbor in a yard and waves. If only that neighbor knew what was about to happen in their perfect little neighborhood.

Cleetis seats us on a couch and then leaves the room. Jazz music is playing on a radio in another room. Something tomatoey is cooking. Amy and I sit with our heads down, like to children in trouble at school and I wonder how many other couples have sat on this same couch in this same situation.

Then I hear a cork being pulled from a bottle.

I look up and see the sonofabitch pouring wine! He fills two glasses and sets them on the coffee table in front of us then fills another for himself then takes a chair across the room from us. He crosses his legs and smiles and sips and looks at us.

"This is a ten year-old Merlot," he says. "A special wine for a special occasion. I've got lasagna cooking, for afterwards."

"This is not a special occasion!" Amy yells. There are tears in her eyes now, and she's turned red.

I look this sadistic fuck in the eyes. "You really think we're going to drink your wine and eat dinner with you? Fuck you."

Cleetis lets go a booming laugh.

"I only thought wine might relax you and I thought a nice meal might console you afterwards. I know you're on a budget and I'm sure these last couple of weeks have been very stressful for you both."

I stand and start to go for him. I don't know what I'll do when I get to him. One of his biceps are the width of one of my thighs and I'm sure it would just take one punch from him to put me in the hospital.

Amy grabs me by the shirt and pulls me back to the couch. Cleetis just smiles and sips like he's amused by me. He doesn't say anything, just stares at us. Maybe this is all he really wanted was to see us like this and he's getting ready to let us off the hook. I mean, what kind of person goes through with something like this?

Amy stands. She grabs the glass of wine in front of her and downs it in a couple gulps and sets the glass down and glares at Cleetis.

"Where's the bedroom?"

Cleetis grins at Amy the same way he grinned at her the day we signed our lease with him. He couldn't take his eyes off of Amy then and he can't now. He knows what he's about to get is good stuff, very good stuff.

"Right up those stairs, darling," he says.

He watches that perfect ass of hers move under her tweed business skirt and sets his glass of wine and stands.

"Dan?" says Cleetis. "Are you eady?"

I don't move. I will not be a witness to this.

Cleetis lays a giant black hand on my shoulder. "Dan," he says, "The time is here."

"But ... wh-what ... wh-why do you need me there? Why do I have to watch?"

Almost compassionately, softly, Cleetis grabs my arm and lifts me to my feet and we start walking toward the stairway where Amy is waiting.

"The answer, Dan, as to why your presence is so important, I'm afraid you'd have to be a black man to fully understand. After today you may understand a little better and you may not. But make no mistake, your role in this just as important as Amy's, perhaps even more so."

At the stairway Amy won't look at me. She's got her head down. Cleetis wraps one of his tree-trunk arms around her waist and one around mine and together the three of us begin climbing."

"I know that it must feel like the end of the world to you both right now, and that things will never completely be the same again, and they won't, but look at it this way. If you had not made the decision you made, you would probably be sleeping in a motel tonight, or in a homeless shelter, and that dream house that you hope to raise your little ones in someday, would belong to some other couple. Both of you just relax. Let's make a night of it.