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did. Nothing on her looked forty; she could claim thirty and no one would question her. Her face wasn’t etched with fine lines from everyday living. Even though her beauty was beyond question, my love for her wasn’t.
    Without making a sound, I climbed out of bed and tiptoed down the hall to the bathroom at the opposite end of the house. The pure pleasure of silence was worth showering and dressing without turning on CNN.
    I wanted to get out of the house without waking her. I craved the quiet time. The last two years of my life were a blur. Daily activities told me when to run, when to sit, and when to sleep. But more than anything else, when to come and go. Life choked me. I only controlled my trips to the bathroom, that’s all. Every day since I was a barefoot boy in Georgia, somebody, usually a woman, told me what to do.
    I tried to be quiet as I crept downstairs to make a strong pot of coffee. Stronger than Tracy could stand to drink. By the time she got up, all that would be left was an empty pot.
    I walked out on the balcony with my cup of coffee and took a deep breath of fresh air. Tracy had to have this huge colonial on two wooded acres. Somebody cleaned it, somebody mowed the lawn, and somebody painted the rooms. This was her dream. Not mine. Weeds had taken over the flower garden she’d insisted the gardener dig. This patch of land was all she could talk about when she saw this big lot. All I could think about was the additional work and upkeep. It reminded me of the huge piece of land I’d had to mow back in Georgia.
    No question, my life was a snarled mess. I had no original ideas to put the company earnings back on track. My personal life was a mess. My stomach bubbled constantly. The elephant sitting on my chest refused to move his big ass. I felt like I was being buried in mud.
    I stepped back into the house and listened for footsteps. Still quiet. I thought about leaving a note telling her I was going to the club for a round of golf. Instead I smirked; she really didn’t want to know. I placed the cup in the sink and walked out the door.
    Before backing out of the garage I tuned the car stereo to the smooth jazz station, and programmed the settings on the driver seat. Blaming Tracy for waiting to buy a new car wasn’t fair. She was a good woman; she never denied me anything, which only made me want everything. I’d waited to buy this car because I’d wanted to pay off the other car first. The one she didn’t know about.
    I arrived at the Country Club just minutes before my tee time. The next four hours belonged to me. For eighteen holes, the constriction in my chest wouldn’t invade the serenity I found hitting that little white ball down the fairway. Golfing with Jay was always a great way to release some tension, and his car was already in the lot.
    Jay was the Global Vice President of Marketing and a good listener. As much as any white man could understand the struggles of being the only black VP in a large company. Jay was a straight up guy. He was the only person I’d told about Sasha. I could count on him to keep my confidence.
    Jay also knew someone on the board. So anytime I needed information on office politics, he had the answers. Today I planned to pump him for information on the company’s plan to downsize.
    “ I was wondering if you’d show up. You usually beat me here.” Jay stood on the tee box, swinging his driver.
    “ I haven’t missed a game in years. I had no plan to miss today.”
    I strapped my bag in the golf cart before warming up with my putter.
    I swung it from right to left to loosen my back. “What’s the latest word on the lay-off?”
    “ It’s going to be more massive than they first thought. Raw material prices are dropping, which is encouraging more imports. I heard our departments will be hit pretty hard.”
    I placed the club back in the bag. “I’m already cutting back. Tracy wants to go all out for Crystal’s wedding, and trying to rein her in