Langston Price

 

“A walk in the Garden of Eden turns into a gut-wrenching rollercoaster ride in Hell Park. Someone who claims to love you can seem like an angel but spends most of their time being vicious and evil, often in sneaky ways, undermining you and your life. The word “abuse” doesn’t seem enough to express the torture”- Source Unknown

Nia thought she’d caught herself a sucker when she met me back in the day, a nigga from the bottom who didn’t know any better. Little did she know, you must play a sucker to catch a sucker. There was a point in time in which I loved my wife and was very much in love with her; however being from a different part of the city my knowledge of who she truly was didn’t become clear until I was already in too deep. I first met Nia in college at a random party, there was nothing striking or overly grand about her appearance but the way she moved excited me. She had a rhythm all her own and I just wanted to get to know her, unbeknownst to me the bitch was a fucking narcissistic sociopathic attention whore who had a junkie for a mother and a king pin dope pusher for a father. She was born a monster and never stood a chance of being anything more than what she was. Despite all of that I saw something in her and hoped that I could love her to life, and for a while that’s exactly what I did. Family was everything to me, my parents were married 33 years and had four children including myself; we weren’t rich but we had more than enough and that’s the kind of life I wanted and planned when I got with Nia, but she had other things on her agenda from the start. “The greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing the world he didn’t exist.” Oh, but I knew better because I was married to her.

The shell of a marriage was just a shame, a cover-up to keep up appearances of this perfect life everyone believed the McKay-Price’s had, the bitch wouldn’t even fully take my last name for fear that she’d no longer be respected under her father’s legacy as a be a McKay. It didn’t take me long to realize that the only reason she even obliged my advances was because she wanted to make that fake ass Gee Money looking ass nigga Bishop jealous. She thought by getting close to me it would make him want her, I should’ve known then she was nothing but a high priced hoe willing to sell  herself to the highest bidder; only thing was I wasn’t paying. The joke always ended up being on her though, Bishop didn’t want her outside of the random fucks she thought I didn’t know about. He had wifed some chick that I’d never met or seen but I knew she had to be something because Nia was obsessed with her, another secret she didn’t think I knew. Instead of being a mother to our nine month old daughter Kalynn and a wife to me she was always busy plotting and popping pussy for a nigga who was only using her to stay tapped into her father’s resources; a nigga I’d yet to cross paths with, but when that time comes I’ll be more than ready for war.

Until then, I’ll play the lame game, the boring husband who teaches Art History at raising my daughter and being the picture of perfection for all those tuning in. It was easy pretending to be the fool my wife took me for, because she really wasn’t all bright to begin with and to her I was just an ornamental fixture in her life, something that belonged there simply because it’d always been. Being from what people liked to refer to as the “bottom” in the Bronx shit wasn’t easy for a young black man trying not to get wrapped in the fast life of the streets. I could have easily took the petty drug life like so many of my homies and made a quick few dollars that way. But I knew I wanted more, does that mean I was immune to bullshit and hood shit? By no means, I had a few bodies under my belt but nobody but the two niggas closest to me knew that and they both dead now. I wasn’t going out like that, so I ran and I mean that both figuratively and literally. Track was my way out so I used it to my advantage; jumping hurdles wasn’t shit but jumping fences running from stray dogs and cops. I was determined to make more of myself. Always a lover of beautiful things I majored in art history and track paid for it. “Run nigga run!”

Day in and day out I watched her come and go as she pleased, treating me as if my existence was  of little importance. Not paying attention to me or my needs, being so intimately lazy as to invite another woman into our bed when she doesn’t feel like fucking me, or huffing and puffing like a child throwing a tantrum when I stick my dick in her mouth. Most times I do it just to piss her off after coming in from her late nights of being another nigga’s cum dumpster. Respect is a thing of the past as it pertains to my marriage, the passion that barely existed in the beginning has long died and where love once lived there is resentment. Twelve years of my life wasted and now I have a child with a woman who  makes the  most outlandish of excuses as why she can’t be a parent to our child except for on certain days and times. My father encouraged me to leave my marriage just shortly after we said I do and move on because according to him, “You ain’t found the right one till you on the third one” and my mother; who is my pop’s third wife tells me “You married a whore son, that was not God’s plan so don’t blame him for the devil’s craftsmanship.” I appreciated that everyone around me thought I was just some dumb nigga from the bottom who went to school on a track scholarship. “Run nigga run” is what my friends would say back in the day. Never realizing that it was nothing for me to play chess when so many others were busy playing checkers.

The good guy always wins.

Read the Prelude to “Sleeping With the Enemy” here.

Sleeping With the Enemy, Copyright 2016, NeverDateaWriter.com, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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