Liar's Game - By Eric Jerome Dickey Page 0,76

on you? We need to push rewind and see who popped who.”

She sat there with haunted eyes. She looked incurably sad.

I said, “Wake up and stop tripping.”

She chuckled. “Well, let me show you who is really tripping.”

Dana left, went into the closet, rifled through my personal stuff, came back with a videotape. Put it in the VCR. Grabbed the remote. Turned the television on. Pushed play. Me and Malaika came up on the screen.

Dana said, “Why do you have a tape of you and her fucking?”

I didn’t say a word. I was numb.

The tape played. Tortured me. Tortured Dana.

Me and Malaika were naked. Her short brown hair. My body was thinner, not much, but enough. And I wore a Bobby Brown-looking flat top fade. We were squirming on the bed that’s in my bedroom right now.

I cleared my throat.

She said, “It disgusts me.”

I went to the VCR.

She said, “Don’t stop it. Look at the end of the tape. Watch what happens. That tells all. You go get her a towel. See the blank look on her face? She forgot the tape was on. She loses that smile, sighs, shakes her head, and frowns up at the ceiling. She bites her bottom lip and stares off into space. With you was the last place she wanted to be.”

My body ached when I stooped. Pain from running. Pain from fighting. Pain from living. I pushed eject. Tore the tape to shreds.

She said, “How would you feel if I had a damn tape of me and somebody else having sex right up under your damn nose? How would you feel?”

The future walked in, very slowly. Thick lines were in her forehead, but she was a lot calmer. Like a burden had been lifted.

This had been turned around. Now I was the bad guy.

“You know that Malaika’s called. I know about your funky little tape. I feel so much better. So much better. I don’t know what else to say.”

“Dana, Malaika has nothing to do with what’s between me and you.”

“That’s bullshit,” she snapped back at me. “The money that you’ll have to dish out to Malaika’s household could make the difference between our children going to public and private school. A difference in the type of loan we could qualify for. Kind of car we can afford. The difference between us having nice family vacations, getting to visit other countries, places like Africa or France or Australia, or have to pack up government cheese sandwiches and catch a bus to Disneyland. Life’s expensive, and I want to be able to give my kids a decent life too.

“If she’s half the scrub you said she is, the more you make, the more they’ll take. And every time you make another dollar, she’ll be downtown at the courthouse asking for two. And if we have children, that’ll be just like taking the food and opportunity right out of my children’s mouth.”

Dana used the wall to help herself to her feet, followed me to the door. Her voice was strained: “If I was willing to accept your lie, to give up a chunk of my income for the next umpty-ump years, do you know how I must feel about you? How many women do you know would be willing to do that?”

“You’ve got a problem.”

“If telling the truth is a problem, then I wish you had the same problem. Now is when we need to sit down and talk.”

Her words made my soul ache. She was telling the truth. So many truths at one time. I just didn’t know if her truth was my truth.

She said, simply, “You don’t understand, do you?”

“Understand what?”

“My passion for you.”

“Can you have the same enthusiasm for my child?”

“After watching how you lost your mind the moment you heard Malaika’s voice, I should be asking if you’d have any left over for me.”

It was time for me to find my own corner in the sky. I walked away. She ran to the top of the stairs and called out my name.

I turned, faced her.

She asked, “You still love your ex-wife?”

“I love you more than I loved Malaika.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I didn’t kill you ten minutes ago.”

She chuckled. “I wish you had. It would’ve made my life easier.”

“Wouldn’t’ve done much for mine.”

A moment passed.

“What I know is that I love you, Vince.”

“Do you?”

“If I didn’t, I would’ve stabbed you in your heart when you hit me.”

The landlord’s door jerked open. Juanita’s cute little voice snapped, “Did I just hear you say

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