“I called him first,” Montana rasped. “FaceTimed. To see if y’all enjoyed dinner without me. You?”
It had been a while. “I saw him last when you were in the hospital, Montana. February 15th.”
“Bruh, I’m worried about him,” Tennessee grumbled. “And for the record, I haven’t seen him since then either. But I’ve been calling. No answer.”
We hung up with more questions than answers and didn’t go into the bar. We parted ways instead, and I dragged my Black ass to Algiers. The street was quiet, the kind where it felt like the Mississippi itself had drawn a heavy curtain on the neighborhood. My Range Rover rolled to a stop in front of Madison’s dream home. Brick, imperial, with black shuttered frames. I glanced up at the wrought iron balcony on the second floor. Elijah’s room.
I cut the engine and let the silence sink in. Inhaling, I caught the usual Mississippi combo: mud, wet moss, and regret marinating in fish guts. I exhaled, but the night didn’t care. It still pressed in on me. Not ready to go inside, I did what any insane dude would do when he was avoiding life: I called Madison.
No answer. Yep, seemed accurate.
Then I shot her a quick text, half expecting it to bereadthis time instead of left to rot like the rest of my messages.
ME: You asleep?
The response came instantly.
WIFEY: YEP.
Damn. Thatyephit different. Did I love this passive-aggressive Madison? If a side of sex came with it, I’d love her all night long.
ME: Reach out to Tex. Please.
I muttered as I typed the next message, “You could get through to him when the rest of us couldn’t.”
WIFEY: K. Calling him now.
I leaned back in the seat as if I’d won the Lotto. Momma said not to awaken love too soon? But love seemed more agreeable. And I was a man. Maybe Madison was tired as hell, or a little confused, so she answered. Maybe she missed me. I’d believe the latter.
ME: Before you call Tex … What you wearing?
WIFEY: Hmmm. because I acquiesce to all your requests, you’re trying it, Wash?
ME: Yep. Shoes or barefoot? Fuzzy pajamas with words? Not saying that no words are sexier, but you got a grown man planning his whole night around you. Details pls.
ME: Or pic
ME: Pics always work
I’d shot off those texts faster than the Triangle handed out hush puppies. Now I was sitting here holding my breath, and it was like the river itself was holding its breath with me. Both hands clutched the phone, ready for the type of action I only wanted from my wife.
I imagined her smirking or maybe replying with a Boy Bye emoji.
WIFEY: Just a sec. Sending a pic. Since your high-maintenance ass shaded my jailhouse pjs, I’ma show you something Your Honor Soul Glow.
I responded with a thumbs-up. The best selection in this case. I didn’t need more tangible proof of my desperation.
As I waited, my fingers tapped the steering wheel. I counted the specks that hit the window as the rain started. And then the phone went black.
Minutes later, it was raining hard enough for the sky to fall out when a notification popped up.
My woman had come through.
mad
. . .
Nights sucked. I had learned to wake when my dreams involved an airplane. But tonight, I hadn’t even fallen asleep yet.