What a Sista Should Do (13 page)

“Um, no, it isn’t a bad time. How are you?” I hope that he can’t hear my voice quiver.

“I’m blessed, thank you. And yourself?”

Blessed? I hope that means he loves the Lord.

“I definitely can’t complain. Thank you so much for the flowers. They truly made my day.”

He chuckles, and it gives me another chill. “I’m glad you liked them. Now we’re even.” To my confused silence, he finishes, “You made my day, and I made yours. We’re even.”

“Oh, oh, I see. So are you in Cleveland often?” Man! That sounded so desperate.

“Actually, I am in Cleveland, on business, quite frequently. And my pastor is the bishop of several churches on the west side of Cleveland. I travel with him when he needs me.”

“Oh, really? Who is your pastor?”

“Bishop Eli Cheney.”

“I listen to Bishop Cheney on the radio sometimes on my way home from work.”

“I hope you don’t think I’m being nosy, but what church do you attend?”

“I’ve attended New Faith House of Worship for the past four years.”

“With Pastor Brown? I’ve heard of him.”

I don’t know where I’m supposed to take the conversation from here, so I don’t say anything. I’m afraid if I say something that it will sound crazy.

“I guess you’re wondering why I called.”

Finally! Good God, it took long enough. “The thought had crossed my mind.”

“Well, I wanted to know if you liked the flowers . . .”

“I do. I mean, yes . . . I did.” Maybe I better just shut up. I do? What am I, a blushing bride now? I’m going to scare this man away.

“And I wanted to see if you were busy this Saturday evening. I have a business review meeting in the morning, and I’ll have the rest of the day free.”

“Saturday? I’ll have to see. Can I e-mail you this afternoon to let you know?”

“Sure. I’ll check for it before I leave. Well, I better let you get back to work. I know Glenda is just like Pharaoh.”

“I’m afraid that’s quite an understatement.”

Spencer laughs heartily. I can listen to that man laugh all day.

“Okay, then, Taylor. Hope to see you Saturday.”

“Me too.”

I hang up the phone and sit here feeling suspicious. This type of thing does not happen to me. Serendipity is something that other folk experience. I know because I listen to them testify about it week in and week out. In my world fine, employed, saved men do not just fall out of the sky. There’s got to be something wrong with Spencer, and I’m sure it won’t take long to figure it out.

Chapter 21

Yvonne

W
hen I woke up this morning, something told me that the devil was going to get busy today. Luke’s been around here acting like a fool, and I’ve been going around my own house walking on eggshells. I don’t even say anything to him anymore. He doesn’t need me for his conversations anyway because he’s never really talking to me.

I think something is going on inside of me. I’m fed up with this life I’m living. Or maybe I’m just tired of my cheating husband. The reality of this situation is starting to sink in, and I don’t know if I can live with this mess. I mean, not only did this man betray me, he went and got himself a living, breathing souvenir that he wants to bring to my home.

Luke’s already gotten out of the bed, and I hear the shower running. I wonder how long he’s been in there. He’s got a bad habit of using up all the hot water and not even caring about what I need. It’s one of the most inconsiderate things that Luke does, but it sure ain’t the only one.

I’m thinking that I should start breakfast. Luke expects a hot meal before he leaves the house in the morning. I’ve been doing it for years. I wish I’d never started that. Luke has the nerve to look at me crazy if I try to give him cereal instead of eggs and bacon.

Men get in the habit of expecting things. Luke expects me to cook him breakfast, pack his lunch and have his dinner waiting on the table when he gets home. The submissive-wife thing is all good, as long as you don’t have some fool taking advantage of it.

Luke comes out of the bathroom with his face clean-shaven. He has a small towel wrapped around his waist. Even though the sight of him makes me angry, he looks good. I get mad at myself for still being attracted to him after everything he’s done.

“Do you plan on getting out of bed today?”

“Yes, Luke, but it’s still early.”

“It may be early, but I’m awake. I need some food in my system before I leave.”

“Well, Luke, there is plenty in the kitchen to eat,” I say softly.

“What?”

I don’t know what made me say that. I wish I could take those words and gobble them back up. I’ve just let the devil use me. And I thought Luke was going to be the one.

“I said that there’s plenty in there. We’ve got about five different kinds of cereal, bagels and juice.”

“Woman, if you don’t get your butt up and make me some eggs . . .”

“What? What’s going to happen, Luke?”

He begins to pace. “Look, I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you better get it together. I don’t have time for no mess. I’ve got enough on my plate.”

Yes, he does. He’s got a whole agenda that don’t even include me and my feelings. Luke’s decided that he wants custody of Taylor’s son. He never even thought to ask me what I want, and I sure don’t want Luke and Taylor’s love child under my roof. Not now and not ever.

“I don’t feel well, Luke. I’m not getting out of this bed any time soon. Either fix your own breakfast or starve.”

“I don’t know why you’re trying me, Yvonne. I really don’t. You know what I’m capable of.”

Is that supposed to be some kind of a threat? Yeah, I know what he’s capable of doing. Although he’s never hit me since that first time, the threat has hung over our marriage ever since. The problem is that he doesn’t know what
I’m
capable of doing. Lord,
I
don’t even know.

“I’m not trying you. I’m just letting you know that I’m sick.”

“Whatever. Where’s my big suitcase?”

I want to roll over and go back to sleep. I don’t even care if he goes. He’s proved to me that he’ll cheat, so why should I waste any energy trying to stop him? I’m more tired than I thought.

“It’s in the back of your closet—on the right-hand side.”

Luke is looking at me. “So you want me to leave, huh? You want me to leave?”

“Luke, I can’t stop you from doing anything. If you want to leave, go ahead.”

“What? So you want a divorce now?”

That word used to scare me. Whenever Luke would say divorce, I would straighten up right away. I’d come around to whatever he wanted me to do, say or think. My marriage was like an electrified fence, and Luke saying divorce was like a shock I’d get trying to climb it.

I thought that there was nothing worse than losing my husband. Now I know better. There was a time that I would look at women who put their men out, with nothing in my mind but disgust. They were giving up; letting the devil destroy their homes. But what if their husbands were anything like Luke? I really think that man is demon-possessed. I want to lay hands on him and shout, “Come out!”

“Answer me, woman. Do you want a divorce?”

“I don’t know, Luke.”

“You better hurry up and figure out what you want. I’m still vital, and it’s plenty of women out here that would jump at the chance to get with me. I can think of a few of your little church friends.”

I feel the immediate need to vomit. I swallow a few times before opening my mouth. I’m afraid to part my lips, though. I just look at Luke, hoping that he can read my mind. Hoping that he gets away from me quick. Right about now I feel like I’m capable of murder.

Luke glares at me and starts chuckling. I don’t see nothing funny. Nothing at all. He’s packing his suitcase. Striding back and forth across the room, looking ridiculous wearing that towel and nothing else. I’m paralyzed. There’s nothing moving but my eyes, and they’re open so wide it feels like I’m straining.

Luke starts putting on his clothes. When he puts on his underwear, he deliberately bends down in front of me. I guess he calls himself mooning me. The thought of him trying to humiliate me further makes me furious. Before I can stop to think about the consequences, my leg whips from beneath the comforter, and I ram it into Luke’s behind. He falls forward onto his knees.

Luke turns around and acts as if he’s going to lunge toward the bed. I grab the first thing my hand touches—the brass cross that I keep on my dresser. I’m ready to use it.

“Woman, what is your problem? You actually think I’m going to let you hit me with that cross?”

“I am going to do it if you put your hands on me.”

I’ve got the cross gripped with both hands like I’m about to swing a bat. I’m planning on hitting a home run too. Luke must think I’m either serious or crazy, because he doesn’t do anything.

Luke finishes getting dressed, and I’m still holding this cross. Luke shakes his head and laughs at me as he walks out of the bedroom door. He’s full of laughs today.

As soon as he’s gone, I fall down on my knees, still clutching the cross. My body starts to shake with sobs. I don’t know what’s happening to me and Luke, and I can’t seem to stop it. I feel like a pitiful woman tied to a train track and there’s a train coming in the distance. All her screaming and yelling won’t stop that train. Her only chance is to escape.

Jesus! I don’t even know what to pray. I need the Holy Spirit to intercede for me, because I may not even be asking for the right thing.
Lord, You know my situation, and I’m praying that You help me make it through this day. I pray that Luke finds his way, Lord. I don’t want to lose him, but right now I don’t see how I can stay married to him. Jesus, help me . . . please. Help me, Lord, before I lose my mind.

Chapter 22

Pam

T
oday is January 25. Twenty-five days into the year that was supposed to change my life, and guess what? I’m pregnant. I’m faithful when it comes to my birth control pills, so this comes as a shock. What I do know is I do not want a baby right now.

I took a pregnancy test, but I haven’t told Troy yet. I plan to do it over dinner. He wants a son, so I know he’s going to be ecstatic. Husbands are usually happy when they’ve created life with one of their little seeds. I bet they wouldn’t be so eager to hear the news if they had to carry the baby for nine months. Troy’s whole world would shut down if he had to experience morning sickness.

I remember making a promise to myself that I wouldn’t bear any children past the age of thirty. This is supposed to be my time. I was going to lose this extra fifteen pounds (okay, thirty) and get back into a size ten. I was planning on selling a novel and traveling across the country to promote it.

Whoever said that money doesn’t buy happiness was an absolute genius, because my worries sure didn’t disappear with the commas in my bankbook. Money does get me a weekly trip to the day spa, though. These full-body massages are a slice of heaven, but today I’m having a hard time forgetting my worries.

I look around the scented parlor, at the other women waiting for their massage fix. Most of them are white, and they look pampered. More black women need to try this, even if it is a little pricey. We just go around all stressed-out, cussing people out and taking all of our frustration out on our children’s behinds.

Not to say that I haven’t had plenty reason to be mad. First of all, my family has been coming out of the woodwork. And they’ve all got some type of financial sob story that they want me to fix. In the past week I’ve had requests for college tuition, rent and security deposit, and a late car note because somebody’s ride is about to be repossessed. The smart ones act like they want to “borrow” the money, even though they have no intentions of paying it back. The bold ones just act like I owe it to them, then have the audacity to get an attitude when I say no.

My church family isn’t any better. Just about every auxiliary has hit me up for a “love offering.” I’m like okay, I paid tithe
and
offering! Then I made the mistake of helping one sister who was truly in need. She got up on last Sunday and testified, telling everybody that I gave her five thousand dollars. I mean why did she have to tell everybody? Now the entire congregation thinks my checkbook is the benevolent fund. Call me carnal, but I wish I hadn’t told anyone about this money.

That’s why I need this massage. I can just lie up on that table and pretend that I’m the queen that I was intended to be. I don’t have to think about anyone’s issues or dilemmas.

I’m also going on a well-deserved vacation. I booked a week at one of those all-inclusive resorts on Montego Bay in Jamaica. I can’t wait either! Shoot, the farthest I’ve been from Cleveland is Niagara Falls, and that is not exactly paradise.

I would like to say that my husband will be joining me, but he is undecided. He claims that he has too much work to do. That’s almost funny to me. He didn’t work this hard when we were broke. He claims that after he gets Aria a recording contract with a major studio, we’ll be set for life. I thought that we already were. We could be.

I don’t plan on going to Jamaica alone, though. I would like to take my newfound friends—Taylor and Yvonne. The fact that they hate each other is a minor technicality. This would be a chance for us all to bond, and for them to get out all of the bad blood between them. If Yvonne and Taylor are able to stay bitter and disgruntled in the sunshine and eighty-degree temperatures, then there is probably no helping either of them. Maybe they’ll get a chance to work out their differences, or perhaps they’ll just enjoy some personal relaxation. Either way it will be money well spent.

Both of them need vacations just as much as I do. Sister Yvonne has got to be about ready to lose her mind. I heard that Luke went on another one of his “sabbaticals.” I wonder who he’s with this time. It better not be someone from our church. Not many women would stand behind their man if he went out and got another woman pregnant. He doesn’t know that he’s got a good thing. And Taylor could use a little taste of paradise too. She’s so busy holding her life together that she doesn’t know how to relax.