Tears on a Sunday Afternoon - Michael Presley [7]
I stared directly into Malcolm’s cold, calculating eyes. “So, you played me for a fool.”
He returned my stare without blinking. His old, cagey eyes sent a chill through my body. “I did no such thing. You saw a golden opportunity to have your cake and eat it too, so you went for it. But the cake you went for happens not to be what you expected.”
I took a deep breath and said, “I want out. I don’t want your money or anything. I simply want to take my son and get out.”
Malcolm started to laugh as if I had made the finals on BET’s Comic View. After about a minute went by, he stopped as suddenly as he had begun. “You’re not serious, are you?”
“Yes,” I said, resisting the urge to jump over the table and snap his fucking neck.
“First, you’re not going anywhere. Second, even if you leave, you will be leaving without my grandson. He’s the only person that I’m living for right now. You and my daughter don’t mean anything to me. If you’re thinking of running away with him, forget it. There isn’t a place on this earth you can go that I wouldn’t be able to find you. So, unless you plan to take the money and exit the marriage, my advice to you is to continue to fuck those whores and go home and play pretend husband.”
There was a loud noise outside the study, as if someone was driving a car in the house. The door slid open and my mother-in-law, Dora Malcolm, poked her head in.
“As you can tell, he got your present,” Dora said, barely acknowledging me with a nod.
“Daddy, look what Grandpa bought for me,” Emerald said, getting out of a miniature car. “Can I drive it in the house at home?”
I half-heartedly looked at the toy, rage boiling under my skin. “No, Emerald, but you can drive it in the driveway and the back yard,” I said, reaching down to turn the engine off.
“Okay.” He took the key from my hand and placed it in his jeans pocket. “This is my key,” he said proudly.
“Dora, Malcolm, we’ll be leaving now,” I said, unable to look at Malcolm.
“Emerald, come give Grandpa a kiss before you go,” Malcolm said and bent down as Emerald ran to him.
“I love you, Grandpa,” he said.
“And me?” Dora asked.
Emerald went from his grandfather’s chest to his grandmother’s arms. “You too, Grandma,” he said with an equal amount of conviction.
“I’ll have Ray drop the car off later,” Malcolm said.
“Why can’t we take it, Daddy?”
“It’s too big to fit in our car,” I answered, taking him by the hand and starting to walk down the hall.
“Don’t worry, Emerald, the car will be home before you get there,” Dora said.
Dora was right. I had no intentions of going straight home. I pulled my car out from between the Bentley and the white Porsche convertible in the driveway. I made a few turns before ending up on Avenue U. My son eagerly talked about his new car as I headed onto the Belt Parkway. I had buckled him up in the back seat with his Game Boy. At half past four, the Belt Parkway was beginning to get a bit crowded. The grand opening of the new mall between Kings Plaza and JFK wasn’t helping either. The Benz responded quickly as I touched my foot to the gas pedal. My days of doing a buck twenty-five on the Belt were over. These days I was carrying a precious cargo.
“Daddy, are we going to Aunty Julie’s before we go to the zoo?” Emerald asked, staring out the window.
“Yes, Emerald, we’re going to Aunt Julie’s.”
“Is she going to the zoo with us?
“I don’t know, but I’m going to ask her to come with us,” I replied as I took the exit ramp at exit 22. After multiple twists and turns, I pulled up behind a blue Toyota Camry on a block filled with single-family homes. As is true of most Queens neighborhoods, the block was very quiet with the exception of a few people walking their dogs or pre-teens riding on the sidewalk. I unbuckled my son’s seat belt and hoisted him up onto my shoulders.
“Hello, Emerald,” Julie said, coming to greet us at the door.
Julie had recently celebrated her thirtieth