Chapter 1
“Why would you go and do that?” Gregory questioned with a wrinkle of his nose as he moved past me in the kitchen. He leans over the stove taking in a whiff of the steam emanating from the hot liquid in the pot as I stir.
“Honey it has been years since I have done a makeup job, I miss it... Plus it will be a paid job.” I rebuttal hoping the promise of money will earn me some extra points. My husband Gregory is what you would call an alpha provider.
He works ten or more hours a day and makes a one hour drive home each day afterwards. That’s if he doesn’t go to the bar with his friends to play pool. At that point it’s up in the air. He could show up at midnight or well into the next morning. He shoots me a pointed look before releasing a breath.
" You know you waste more money than you make every time you do one of these jobs.” He says as he watches me with a raised brow and I find myself not knowing what to say. For more than a decade I have been a stay at home mom for our family.
From the very beginning Gregory has assured me it was the right choice for us. Over the years I have dabbled in different hobbies chasing a sense of fulfillment.
“I’ll replace the gas, and put the money on a bill.” I resort to bargaining and he snorts.
“You and I both know you won’t make enough money to put a dent in our bills.” His words almost make me cry...
For years I have felt useless in this family, only fit to cook, clean, and tend to others. Never good enough, or smart enough to have and succeed at my own dreams.
Nine years ago I discovered a genuine love for makeup. After a few years of doing makeup on myself and then family, friends or really anyone who would sit in my chair. I realized it was more than a hobby, it became my passion. After a few months of begging I finally convinced Gregory to let me use a portion of our tax return to earn a certification.
The moment I graduated my career took off. I began doing t.f.p’s “trade for products or services.” Through those jobs I climbed the ranks of fashion with my looks appearing on front page spreads of notable magazines. Two years later I found out I was pregnant. That is when everything stopped, and my dreams faded away.
“Baby I told you.” He turns to me with an empty smile. ” I would rather you focus on everything you have on your plate here. Let me worry about making money.” My shoulders go slack at his words.
I tried for months after the baby turned one, to find a job doing makeup. But every time I found a client that needed me to travel, Gregory just brought up every way my working made our lives less convenient.
I gave up for a while not wanting to turn it into a fight, but last week I got a call from my old contact Lydia. She called to tell me that a designer lost his Mua at the last minute, she showed him my instagram and he told her to call me.
“Then can I go simply because I want to?” My last resort, sympathy. “I have already asked my mom to watch the kids. She has no problem with keeping them for the day.” Gregory hated getting stuck with the kids on his days off.
He complained it hindered his ability to get things done that he otherwise hasn’t been able to-do because of work. I hoped removing them from the deal would make him more likely to agree.
“How long will you be gone?” I hated it when he asked this question. Not because I had an issue with giving him an answer, but because with tfp’s of the fashion variety. There was never a sure way to know how long makeup will take. Setting that aside, the job location was just under an hour away.
“I am not sure, it is a fashion show in Chicago. The traffic alone could make me late.” He barely waits for me to finish my sentence before he rolls his eyes.
“I don’t need an exact time, Fable just give me an estimate.” He is full of shit. An estimate is never enough for him. He has a tendency to get pissed off if I am even 15 mins late from the estimate I give him.
" I have to be there at 8 am, the show is over at 6 so I’ll be home no later than 7, God willing.
“Ten Hours Fable?!” I suck in a breath. When he raises his voice instant anxiety fills my bones.
“Nevermind Greg, it’s okay.” I say defensively knowing the consequences of getting him started. He hurrys to respond.
“I didn’t say you can’t go. Do I not have a right to express my opinion?” Don’t cry Fable, it’s not that big of a deal…
Last week my husband asked me for another baby and I saw my life flash before my eyes. I just lost nearly 80 lbs after four children and now he wanted me to have another! Haden is almost four which is preschool age. I am already so close to freedom. Now if only I could get him to potty train, then we would be golden.
Greg refused to accept my feelings of wanting to be done, insisting I would eventually change my mind. Eventually I just stopped trying to argue and wondered if I should secretly start taking birth control instead.
“Look I don’t care if you go, but you know how I feel about you being out at night.” Says the man who comes strolling into the house from the bar., at all ungoddly hours of the night claiming he lost track of time with his friends.
Breathe Fable, take the win graciously. I coax my tired mind doing my best not to become defensive.
Gregory hated looking like an ass. Being one was one thing but looking like one to other people ie my family or friends was not an option. He knew I had already asked my mother. He didn’t want me to call her and tell her I had to cancel because he told me no. Of course he would rather save face than genuinely want to make me happy.
“I will do my best to finish on time, and be home before sunset.” I say dutifully wishing more than anything I didn’t have to perform to make him care.
He nodded his head seemingly satisfied with my response. He snagged a piece of chicken from the plate beside the stove and turned to walk away.
“I have to go to bed soon for work...” He lingered in the doorway. “You think you could do me a favor to help me relax?”
Apparently now I owe him for saying yes...
