Deceptions

By ANITA FOSTER LOVELY

This novel was critiqued at Yale's Writers Workshop. Sierra is married to Connor, who is manipulative and emotionally abusive. Sierra slowly realizes Connor has serious mental health issues and refuses to get help. When she finds she can no longer tolerate his abuse, she divorces him. For a couple of years she struggles with single- parenting, loneliness, and trusting men. One day an old friend, Byron, comes back into her life and she enjoys a beautiful functional relationship. That is, until she runs into Connor while out with Byron. When her ex realizes she's happy and has everything he wouldn't give her, he tries to win her back. When she turns him down, he snaps and goes after her with terrifying rage. She fights back with a vengeance before inviting Byron in on the battle to get rid of Connor, and protect her and her son's sanity. They leave Connor stranded on the Caribbean Sea in an unplugged canoe. Connor can't swim. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anita Lovely
• Release date: May 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223153542

ANITA FOSTER LOVELY

ANITA FOSTER LOVELY grew up in South Jersey and later moved to Atlanta, Georgia, where she enjoyed a career as an Economist and as a Professor. She is the author of the novel, Betrayals, which caught the attention of The Oprah Show, and she attended the Yale Writers’ Workshop. She is published in the Journal of Research in Pharmaceutical Economics, and she received an award from BET Books/Arabesque for a romantic story. Anita is also acknowledged for editing assistance in the Chicken Soup for the African American Soul. Besides founding & facilitating Writing Critique Groups and presenting at Writing Workshops & Conferences, Anita enjoys traveling and learning about various cultures. She still lives in Atlanta with her husband, not too far from her grown children.

Book preview

ANITA FOSTER LOVELY

PART ONE

~ CHAPTER 1 ~

The sun in Atlanta had just begun to set, casting a deep orange hue across the sky. Gray clouds tried to creep in from the West. Outside the air was still and silent, as if the city was holding its breath in anticipation of the forecasted rare winter storm. Inside Sierra’s Books and Coffee shop the ambiance was toasty, contented, and filled with the fresh aroma of exotic coffees. The owner, unfortunately, couldn’t appreciate the mood that she had so painstakingly created.

Sadness and gut-wrenching suffering were written all over Sierra Johansson’s body. No crying, moaning or groaning could be seen or heard. Just ripples of transparent, excruciating misery painted and tainted her slender sagging shoulders. She swayed with the weight of her tortured soul and resisted the urge to succumb to a force that wanted to take her down into a dark abyss. She held onto the counter for support.

Tumultuous thoughts billowed around in her crowded mind, jarring her senses until one bulged through with clarity. Her sanity was at stake. She could pretend no more. Trying to get Connor, her mentally ill husband, to honor his promise of starting a family had brought her to the brink of madness. She wanted children. He promised they would. They had agreed before committing to marriage. Now he was becoming angry and adamant about no children. Ever! She had to find a way to take back control over her life if she wanted to protect her sanity from his insanity.

Suddenly, a customer’s laughter from across the room traveled throughout her bookstore, and like a live defibrillator it jolted her out of her dark reverie. The tiered candles in the fireplace flickered and got her attention. The background music became apparent. She let go of the counter and caught Valencia, her store manager, staring at her.

Snap out of it, Sierra, she said. Connor, right? The baby thing? You know nobody’s coming to save you, right? I’m sick of seeing you like this. Where’s the old Sierra? Find her and make some serious moves for goodness sake. Just do it already.

Valencia patted her boss-friend on the shoulder. Sierra’s shoulders eased down from her ears and she smiled up at her, one of The Eyes, and nodded. They had been friends since college, and Valencia had proven to be one of her store’s greatest assets ever since she first opened it a few years ago.

They, along with the other member of The Eyes, Katy, first met and immediately clicked during their freshman year at college. All three of them had unique eyes. Valencia’s slanted black eyes looked exotic with her smooth chocolatey skin and her dark medium-length twists. Katy’s round light blue eyes went well with her creamy white skin and her black bob haircut. And people said Sierra’s almond-shaped hazel eyes matched her golden brown complexion and her long, brown kinky-coily hair. It wasn’t long before they were known as The Eyes.

You’re right. All of this begging and pleading with him is just giving him the power to control my life, like this is the 1950s or something, Sierra said. She sighed and rubbed her stomach with longing. I’m ready, and I’m going all the way in. It may end my marriage, but I can’t live like this any longer. She cleared her throat. Watch me. Now, enough about him. Did we get the shipment of books that was due yesterday, she asked.

Yeah. Everything is here. I’ll scan them in a minute, Valencia replied.

Thanks, she said as she walked back to her office.

Struggling to block out the thoughts of why she hated her life, Sierra sat at her desk, straightened her back, and opened the marketing file with the draft of the poster announcing her store’s upcoming book signing. After indicating her approval, she sent it to her marketing firm. Then she clicked on a spreadsheet on her desktop to check her inventory of organic coffees. Swiveling her chair from side to side, she tried to focus on the numbers before her, but before she could really engross herself in them she was interrupted by a phone call. It was Connor. Her body stiffened as she answered it.

Hey. How are things at the store? he asked.

Everything’s good, Sierra said.

I’m going to work late tonight. Now, before you start, I don’t want to hear any lip from you. Just be glad I’m calling. You know I have to prove to my father I’m worthy of partnership. And before you ask, yes, my father comes before you, he snapped.

Okaaaay, sounds like a good excuse to me, she said.

She thought about saying something really sarcastic, but held her tongue and said goodbye. Not too long ago he told her something similar, but when she tried to call him back multiple times, he didn’t answer his phone. He said his phone was off because he was meeting with a client. Until ten or eleven o’clock at night? Probably not.

Things were a lot different now than they were when she first met Connor. They’d met at a party full of doctors and lawyers during her senior year of college. Although she was attracted to his tall toned body and ruggedly handsome face, she had resisted him. He was White. Suppose they fell for each other, married, and had kids? What would their kids look like, she had wondered. Odds were they would look more White than Black, and they would probably run into a lot of bullying trying to fit in either or both Black and White worlds. She had to consider her future children’s well being. The world wasn’t advancing fast enough in race relations for her to take such a chance.

But Connor had been relentless in his pursuit of her, charming her until she forgot about the concerns for her future children. He even reminded her of her father at times. In addition to being intelligent and successful, he and his family were well traveled and had friends and family from various races and backgrounds. Those similarities struck a chord with her. Eventually her walls of resistance dissolved and she allowed herself to fall in love and marry him.

A ping on her phone signaled a text message. It was from Valencia, telling her that Byron, a long-term platonic friend, had just entered the shop. Sierra saved her worksheet, left her office, and walked toward the front of the store. Her heart thumped hard when she saw him. Although she knew he was happily married, she couldn’t help herself. She found herself attracted to him anyway. Guiltily, she tried to convince herself it was hearing his male perspective on her issues that got her excited, but her common sense told her otherwise.

Hey. How’s one of my favorite customers, she greeted him with a facade of strength. Her eyes went straight to his thick hair. She liked the premature gray sprinkled throughout his black kinky curls. Boy am I glad to see you.

Always good to see you too. Byron’s dimples deepened when he smiled at her. So, how’s life treating you? Any better than the last time we talked?

Sierra nodded to an empty corner table and walked in its direction. She sat facing the store, and he sat next to her so they could easily hear each other. She resisted the urge to run her fingers through his hair.

I wish I could say yes, but no, she said.

Her eyes darted around his reddish brown face not knowing where to land. She settled on his eyes, and she started their conversation from where they’d stopped their previous one a couple of weeks ago.

Connor’s still refusing to discuss starting a family, she continued. And I’m tired of complaining about the same thing, over and over. I need to take control of my life and do something different. Stop waiting for him to change.

That sounds like a smart approach. So, what do you have in mind? Byron asked with his serious eyes looking straight into hers.

I’m thinking seriously about getting pregnant by donated sperm.

Wow! Really?

Yeah. Connor says he doesn’t want to be bothered raising a child. I told him he doesn’t have to participate in the child’s upbringing. I can do it all by myself or with a nanny if necessary, but he still says he doesn’t want any children. It just isn’t fair for him to renege on his promise to start a family when he knew before we married how important it was to me.

You’re right. It isn’t fair. As you well know, I want kids too. But I can’t complain about my wife because unlike you, we never discussed having children while we dated. The last time I dared to bring it up, she was adamant about not messing up her perfect body by having children. And she wasn’t feeling a surrogate carrier or adoption either, so it’s over for me. But donated sperm, huh? Did I hear you correctly? His thick eyebrows bunched together.

Yeah. I’ve done a ton of research on it, and I’m ready, Sierra said. I’ve tried talking to Connor about divorce, but he always talks me out of it. He’s adamantly opposed to that idea too. And I don’t really want a divorce - never saw myself as a divorcee. I mean, who wants to go through that? I just want him to honor his promise and act like he did when we first married.

I understand you wanting to make it work. Divorces do seem to be pretty traumatic.

But living with him can be traumatizing too. Maybe not physically, but definitely emotionally, she said.

Well, that’s not good, for sure. He paused before continuing. If you’re willing to live with the abuse, maybe you just have to accept that the honeymoon is over.

I think I could live with his dysfunctions if I had a baby. We could stay married. It would be a good compromise. Right? Both of us would have something, but not everything we want. Who gets everything they want in a relationship anyway? He’ll get over the pregnancy once it happens.

They were quiet for a while. Then Byron started talking about his medical mission trips to Brazil. The dimples in his chin and cheeks deepened and flattened as he spoke. His eyes sparkled. Her images of him moving about in a jungle made her forget all of her troubles until he finished. After a few words of encouragement he left the store and left Sierra engulfed in an aura of loneliness.

Sierra texted Katy to confirm meeting at their regular spinning class and grabbing a bite to eat afterwards. They’d take their time catching up on what was going on in each other’s lives since she knew Connor wouldn’t be home until late, and also, this was Katy’s girls night out. A delay in going home to her big empty house was always good. Finding an interesting book to get lost in will help deal with this loneliness too, she thought.

As she reflected on her conversation with Byron, she went to the romantic suspense stacks. Taking her time, she read the backs of a few books written by her favorite authors. Finally, she selected one to keep her company until she fell asleep later that evening. She laid it aside and went back to taking care of her store.

That evening after spending time with Katy, Sierra was eager to finish her shower routine and snuggle under her comforter with her book, but the thoughts that raced through her mind had her reading the same sentence repeatedly.

How could Byron’s wife not want to have a baby with him? Connor sounded really hyped. Has he stopped taking his medicine? Who can I count on to help me with the annual Breast Cancer Awareness Memorial Service? How can I make Connor honor his promise to start a family? After a while she closed her eyes, folded her arm across them, and allowed her mind to slow down. She relaxed and went to sleep.

A heavy roaring roll of thunder and a loud crack of lightning awakened Sierra. Her eyes popped open. Her arm stretched out across the mattress, feeling around for her husband. A bright streak of lightning flashed through a small gap in the drapes. When her gaze returned to the bed it revealed what her hand had already discovered. He wasn’t there. Of course. He rarely was before eleven thirty. Rubbing her eyes, she pushed herself up on one elbow. The digital clock read eleven twenty-one. Her jaws tightened. Connor would be home any minute now.

Her mind went back to how things used to be - their lavish wedding, a Boro Boro honeymoon where she snorkeled while he sunbathed because he was afraid of water, and then two weeks later their new home in a classy Buckhead neighborhood not too far from the governor’s mansion. There they had discussed which room would be best for the nursery. At that moment in time her world had looked bright and promising.

The barely audible smooth sound of the opening garage door sent fine vibrations up and down her spine. She moved over to the edge of her side of the bed, turned her back to his side, and pulled the covers up over her shoulders. His usual sounds floated up from downstairs: the sound of his fobs as he tossed them on the countertop in the kitchen, the soft thud of his computer bag dropping into the leather office chair right off of the living room, and his usual grunt as he bent to pick up the shoes he stepped out of as he entered the house.

He would carry them while, for some dumb reason, he tiptoed up the stairs and into the master bedroom. As solid as the floor was, she wouldn’t have heard him even if he hadn’t sneaked his way into their bedroom. But she would have known he was there anyway. His routine rarely changed. If it hadn’t been for the thunderstorm, the click of the garage door would have awakened her. Just like it did every weeknight. And, like always, she knew she wouldn’t fall back asleep until close to midnight. If she was lucky he would snore in about ten minutes, and she would lie awake for the next ten to fifteen minutes wondering how to make her miserable life better. But for now, she played possum and pretended she was sleeping soundly.

The familiar sound of Connor’s zipper made her wince. She felt the tug on the comforter as he settled on his side of the bed. Not wanting any conversation with him tonight, she forced herself to continue breathing softly and smoothly. Feigning sleep wasn’t difficult. It was part of her nightly routine now. But it didn’t work tonight. He got underneath the covers, shuffled really close and started rubbing against her. She stiffened.

I know you’re awake, baby. He snuggled even closer and pressed himself against her round bottom.

What do you want, Connor, Sierra asked as she pulled on the comforter and tucked it firmly under her.

What do you mean, what do I want?

I’m not in the mood for your antics. Why don’t you go hug what’s-her-face, she countered.

Oh, here we go again. His hand slid off her hips.

Remember when we said that adultery was an absolute reason for divorce? Well, I think we’re at that point, she said.

I’ve told you before, that’s not going to happen. Never. So stop trying to make me mad. His hardness softened and he moved away from her.

I’m not trying to make you mad. I’m trying to get us to be honest with each other. We need to realize there’s nothing left to this marriage if you’re not willing for us to have a baby.

Sierra was aware she had to accept responsibility for her part in being in her dysfunctional marriage. She’d finally figured out why she hadn’t seen him for who he was before she’d married him. He looked good on paper. He came from a good family who owned one of the top law firms in the Southeast. He had an ivy league education and a career with his father’s firm. He was well connected to people in high places, well-traveled, and on top of that he looked good too. What’s not to like, she had wondered.

In person he’d presented himself in such a confident and successful way that she had looked past any red flags that were trying to get her attention. He’d said he was drawn to her unique beauty and her down-to-earth charm. Ha! Yeah. Right. Her current angst came from realizing she had fed him the lines he’d used to win her over. He had asked questions about what she wanted in a relationship, and she had told him. He asked her to elaborate, and she had. And from her answers he’d made himself out to be her dream come true. Basically, she had handed him the ammunition to take her down.

What do you want from me? Don’t I give you everything you want? We live in a multi-million-dollar home. We have the best cars money can buy. And your wardrobe would be the envy of royalty. But still, you’re not satisfied.

He snatched at the comforter and turned his back to her.

I appreciate all that you provide. You know I do. But those are things, Connor. Things.

She tried not to raise her voice.

Yes, they are things most women would die for. Not you though. Nothing is ever good enough for you, is it?

I don’t want more things. I want a baby, Connor. You know that. And you knew that even before we got married. She rubbed her stomach longingly. And you agreed to it. We shopped for nursery furniture for goodness sake.

Well, I changed my mind. You can forget about bringing a baby into our relationship, and you can forget about a divorce.

You know, Connor, to be so book smart, it’s amazing how much you lack in common sense. You think you can do this to me and it’s okay? What I want is not important to you? You’re going to get yours one day. I promise you.

Don’t threaten me, Sierra. He flipped his pillow over and pushed it under his head.

I assure you, it’s not a threat. This is not the lifestyle we agreed upon when we got married. There is more to life than the pursuit of money. And you staying out until all times of night? That’s a bachelor’s life. We’re married, and I want a family and a husband with integrity. Someone I can trust. I want a relationship with a man that loves me and doesn’t think I’m simply some kind of possession he can buy. She wrapped her long leg around her body-length pillow and hugged it close to her tense frame.

You need to get more involved in your volunteer work or something. Find something to keep you busy besides having a baby, for God’s sake.

In case you forgot what I do, I’m on a couple of corporate boards. I go to the gym. I’m in a tennis league. I work long hours at the store and hang out with friends. But at the end of the day I come home to emptiness, and that’s not supposed to happen when you’re married.

Just go to sleep and leave me alone. He jerked the cover and pulled it over his shoulders.

Sierra’s mind went to memories of her mother, her place of refuge. Her eyelids felt heavy. She blinked back tears. She squeezed her pillow as if she was trying to squeeze out the ache of sadness residing deep within her soul. It was grief. It started the moment her mother took her last breath when she was fifteen years old. She let go of the memories and forced her mind back to the present. She prepared to reengage with her husband, but there wasn’t anything else to say. It was obvious. He didn’t care about her happiness or his promise.

Why don’t you go shopping? was his usual reply to any of her concerns, like she was some kind of nit-wit ding-a-ling. She’d be better off single, she thought. At least then I’d be able to date and have someone to spend my evenings with. She tightened her grip on her pillow. But Dad would just die. And my friends? Nah. I’m not going to be the only divorcee. She went back to playing possum. If she kept quiet, she knew it wouldn’t be long before he would be fast asleep.

The musty smell of his day hung in the air. She wiggled her nose. Then she heard it. The rumble of his first snore. Her body relaxed. As the timbre of his snore gradually escalated, her tense body relaxed even more. Her fists eased open. She rubbed her stomach as she drifted away into her only fantasy, a life with a baby.

The next morning Sierra awoke from her fitful sleep to the sounds of singing and trickling water. It wasn’t long before she realized it was her husband’s deep baritone. Connor was singing in the shower, as blissfully content with his life as she was discontent with hers. The fresh scent of his body gel didn’t work for her today. She frowned. Something’s wrong with this picture.

She stretched her arms over her head, and then slid her hands down over her body, gently caressing her breasts and stomach. She sat up and swung her legs around so they dangled off the side of their extra thick mattresses. With her head tilted back, she took the pin out of her Bantu knot, let her kinky coils drape down her back, and massaged her scalp. She heard Connor leave the bathroom but she tried to ignore him.

I can hardly believe you’re my wife, baby. You are so beautiful.

His last few words were husky, barely audible. She said nothing. His compliments meant nothing to her anymore. Sierra knew Connor really did love her in the best way he knew how, but that was just it. He didn’t know how to love, not himself or anyone else. His Narcissistic Personality Disorder, childhood trauma, and other psychological disorders left him a wasteland bereft of empathy, compassion, and love. She knew there was no way forward with Connor. Connor continued with his empty words, but she wasn’t the least bit impressed.

Your breasts, your waist, your round peach, I’m a lucky man. He paused, still staring at her, and then started talking really fast. Hmm, your skin always has a glow to it.

He’s up to something, she thought. His compliments never came free. She swallowed hard. A scowl formed across her face. She shuddered.

Save your compliments, Connor. Unless we’re talking about having a baby or getting a divorce, there’s really nothing to talk about. There you go. Irony at its best.

It wouldn’t work, baby. A whiny little kid interfering with our time. A needy little snotty-nosed brat like I was, breaking up our marriage. Like I did to my mom and dad’s.

Don’t talk like that. You don’t know that. His self-deprecating attitude got on her nerves. He went from talking like he thought he was some kind of god or something, to talking like he thought of himself as some filthy and disgusting degenerate. And it usually happened when he stopped taking his medicine.

Yes, I do know that. My dad said so during one of his rants. Ages ago. He yelled. Mom cried. And me, like the whiny, wimpy brat that I was, lay curled up in a dark corner of my closet, comforted only by my warm urine as it seeped out of me and into the carpet. He winced and snapped his fingers. Not going to happen.

Connor, we’ve talked about this before. That’s not true. It didn’t happen like that. Remember? Your mother and your father told you it didn’t happen. Yes, they argued a lot, especially right before the separation. Remember? You and your therapist concluded that the closet incident happened when you heard them arguing and threatening divorce. But they weren’t arguing about you. It’s normal for kids to think they are the reason for their parents’ divorce. That’s when you started showing signs of depression. Remember?

Yeah. I know. I remember. But I still don’t want any kids, he said.

Sierra tried to help him get out of his funk without allowing herself to get pulled into it. You sound like you’re in one of your depressed moods. Did you stop taking your meds? You may need to get your dosage changed. When’s the last time you’ve seen your psychiatrist?

Don’t worry about me and my psychiatrist.

"Okay, okay. But