Chapter 38: The Other Woman

459 45 18

Safiya was barely functioning when she pulled into the driveway of the two-story abode. Her body was running on less than two hours of sleep, which was not consecutive. She gently slid her Jetta to a stop—behind the black Range Rover and prayed Ameera would stay sleep.

Safiya tried to ignore the queasiness of her nerves as she killed the ignition. She should've known this day was going to come. Ameera's colic wasn't the only reason she suffered from insomnia last night, Carter's phone call was twenty percent responsible. He had done what she told him to do and now his wife wanted to meet her. He made it sound so simple, just come to the house and have tea to talk things out concerning Ameera.

Safiya ran different scenarios through her mind as she tried to quell the cries of a fussy Ameera in the wee hours of night. All the scenes she constructed in her psyche ended in shambles. There was one where she was slapped, one where she was brought to tears and called a home-wrecking bitch and the last one was a full ­Love and Hip Hop cussing match meeting her and Carter's wife.

"Be a grown woman," Safiya told herself as she plucked her gigantic cup of Jolt coffee out the cup holder. She wished she could've gotten a big Gulp cup from the service station but Larry wouldn't filler-up if she asked. "You can do this. You don't have to grovel." She took a long sip of cool mocha supreme with her eyes on the rearview mirror ignoring the pink strained lines in her orbs as she watched Ameera's eyes flicker open.

Safiya pushed her door opened and hopped out the driver's seat done pumping herself up. She had about fifteen minutes to get in that house and get out before Ameera abandoned her sleepy haze and demanded to be fed.

"Shush, baby girl," Safiya whispered to her as she unbuckled the car seat that doubled as a carrier, it was a gift Harmony's mother gave her and she was ever so grateful since her salary working retail was just enough to pay her health insurance payment and her portion of the bills. "Shush." The infant's long eyelashed lids closed back day at the sound of her mother's soothing voice and let out a sigh of relief as she eased the carrier out the car and settled the strap of the stuffed diaper bag on her shoulder.

"You know you're sleepy anyway," Safiya affirmed softly closing the car door.

She took in the manicured lawns and empty driveways as she strutted up the white brick home with its gray shutters. It was a fixture that looked out of place surrounded by red brick McMansions and subtle craftsman dwellings. This house, the one Safiya approach appeared as if it should've been in the French countryside by a lavender field or grape orchard.

Safiya held her breath as she balled her fist and rapped her knuckles on the door quickly. She lowered her sights on her baby and a weak smile crossed her lips seeing Ameera was still sleeping. She easy breeze of cool air brushed over her face calling her attention back in front of her. The curve of her mouth faded as the statuesque woman stood in front of her.

"You must be Safiya." The dark hair woman with few wrinkles in her caramel held the door open as she flicked her eyes over Safiya's flustered dispositions. "You are very lovely...just like the pictures on my husband's phone." Her eyes steeled at locked with Safiya's.

Safiya didn't know how to take the response, was that a compliment or a polite dig. She swallowed her tension, "'am." The plastered smile of the dark-haired woman fell as she narrowed her eyes.

"I'm mean...Mrs. Russell." Safiya abruptly changed. "Thank-you, Mrs. Russell."

"Call me, Sylvan." She took a deep inhale as she stepped out of the doorway. "Come in. We have a lot to discuss."

Safiya nodded as she stepped into the house of her ex-lover as his wife closed the door.

How do you think this sit down is going to turn out?

So, the song is for both women. Also, sorry the chapter is a little light but this wrist will only let me write so much. I hope you like it.

 I hope you like it

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A Necessary Struggle: Spring SemesterWhere stories live. Discover now