“I asked you to give me time,” Angelina said in response to his question. The one she’d been avoiding hearing. Baby, when are you going to let me come home? “This is not what I call time.”
“It’s been weeks,” he begged. “I miss you. Please, Lena. Let me make this up to you.”
She shook her head. Shook away the image of Samaria and him in bed. “I don’t know that you can.”
“Thirteen years. We have too much history to let Samaria come between us.”
“You put her between us.”
“I know, and please don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself, but honey, I love you. I don’t even know what I was doing with her.”
Angelina held up a hand to stop his words. “You were having sex. Probably good sex. I’m thinking better sex than you have with your wife, or it wouldn’t have gone on so long.” It hurt to say that. It was like she’d stabbed herself with a knife, but she wanted to get in every jab that she could. She wanted him to know what she was thinking. What she was feeling.
“Don’t do that.” Greg’s voice changed. It was deeper now. She could hear his pain. “Don’t compare yourself to her. Please don’t.” He hung his head again.
Angelina dropped her arms to her side. She opened her hands and closed them into fists over and over again. All the pain she’d been trying to hold in was coming out now. Coming out of her pores and her ears and her mouth. Every orifice in her body was leaking the anguish she’d bottled up in her busyness. Busy with Katrice, busy at work, and even busy at church. She hadn’t stopped to think about the pain she’d been pushing deep into her belly until she looked into her husband’s eyes. They were tired, swollen eyes. Eyes she hadn’t seen since their daughter died. Had he been crying?
“I don’t know what’s going to happen with us.” Tears fell down her cheeks. “But I know nothing’s going to happen right now.”
Greg reached for her. She pushed him away. He reached again, this time grabbing her and pulling her closer to him. “Please, Lena. I swear to God, I love you.” His voice was hoarse, raspy, and desperate. “Let me come home. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I’ll go see Dr. Luke. I’ll do whatever you want to do.”
She allowed him to hold her as she cried. She alternated between holding him tight and pummeling him with angry fists as the visions of him and Samaria moved in and out of her mind. She wanted to forgive him. She wanted to so badly, but the pain was too fresh. The hurt was too great. Still she felt something tingle inside of her. Desire. She wanted him to make love to her. To prove she was more woman than Samaria. That was crazy. Angered by her attraction to him, she pushed her body away from his and wiped her face with the back of her hand. It took her a minute to pull herself together. When she spoke her voice cracked. “Get out.”
“Lena.”
“Get out,” she repeated the words louder this time. “Just get out.”
He moved away from her, slowly making backward steps to the door. He stopped, turned, and stood at it for a long time. Like he wasn’t sure how to leave. Angelina looked away from his back. She fought the voice in her spirit that wanted to tell him, It’s okay. Stay. Love me. She fought the simmering in her blood that wanted him to take her upstairs and make her forget the entire world. Greg was capable, when motivated. She knew that. She swallowed her uncertainty. Samaria’s face in her mind helped with that. “Get out,” she whispered.
He reached for the door knob, looked back and faced her like he was going to say one more thing. Angelina closed her eyes, turned on her heels and headed toward the powder room. She yelled over her shoulder, “Lock it on the way out.” She closed the door, turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her swollen face. It took awhile, minutes she was certain, but then she heard the unmistakable click of the dead bolt in the distance.
Chapter 40
Angelina wouldn’t take my calls, and the selfish girl that I was—I wanted closure. For some reason I thought I deserved it. So I sat on a bench at the bus-stop outside of Shine and Swing Hair Salon waiting for her to come out. Waiting for her, because she was never ever going to return one of my calls.
I knew this crap was risky, because true to his word, Greg had gotten a restraining order. If I broke the law, my bail would be revoked, and I’d go back to jail. So even though I knew this wasn’t a good idea, I had to talk to her. It was like I couldn’t go another day without getting some things off my chest.
This obsession of mine was riskier still, because although I grew up in the hood, and I’ve had a fight or three or four in my life, I could get a beat down. Real anger trumps experience any day of the week. Even Mike Tyson knew that. Angelina Preston was the angry one in this situation, so I was at a disadvantage.
I noted expensive shoes clicking on the pavement before I heard a voice and turned to see Angelina and Katrice. I looked into Angelina’s eyes. Then I looked into Katrice’s. “Your hair is pretty,” I said to the little girl. Katrice blushed and pressed her body against Angelina’s leg. Shirley Temple curls bounced as she moved.
Angelina took Katrice’s hand, walked to her SUV, and put the girl in the car seat. After she let the windows down, she returned to where I was sitting, where I had held a sixty second prayer vigil that she wouldn’t get in the car and drive away.
“Still stalking me?” Angelina asked, approaching the bench. Her hair was freshly laid, her attire, casual. That was a look I’d rarely seen on Angelina. Even her casual wear was designer—I recognized the outfit as Betsey Johnson. With everything she was going through, she was a fashion force to be reckoned with. Not that I expected she wouldn’t be. I’d underestimated her from the beginning. I’d been way out of my league. You don’t win against a woman like Angelina.
“You still have her.” I nodded in the direction of the SUV.
“She’s staying with me,” Angelina replied. “I’m her permanent foster mother. I want to adopt her.”
I nodded. That was great news. News I might have celebrated with her if it had been before everything happened. I noticed she hadn’t said “we” want to adopt her. I didn’t have the nerve to ask about Greg. I swallowed a knot of emotion in my throat. “I saw on the news that the investigation into her sister’s death is complete. They’re saying DFYS is ready to settle the lawsuit out of court.”
Angelina’s lips formed a tight thin line. “You have something to tell me that I don’t already know?”
I let out a breath. This was the moment I’d been waiting for. My last chance to have my say. “I need to explain.” I slid to the far end of the bench, hoped and prayed she’d sit down. To my surprise she did. I raised my eyes to hers. I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could get the words out, she asked me a question.
“Were you planning to hurt me?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I wanted Greg’s money, so I was scheming on you. I wasn’t even really expecting to get that close when I came to the church, but then you had that mentor thing.”
“And it worked right in with your plan.” She cocked her head to side, and the length of her hair billowed in the breeze.
I nodded. “I expected to find someone I wouldn’t like. Someone I wouldn’t feel guilty about ruining. I didn’t expect you to be so good to me.”
Angelina didn’t say anything. She just stared at me, her anger not abating, not for a second.
“I’ve never had a friend before.” My voice cracked. It sounded so small. “Never.” I shook my head like the addicts I’d seen in White Gardens when they were trying to hustle up money. They moved too fast. They were too desperate for you to listen. I was desperate. I wanted her to hear me. “My whole life women haven’t trusted me. Didn’t want to be around me.”
“Well, Samaria, look at me. I trusted you. You’re your own self-fulfilling prophecy.”
She was right about that. I didn’t have words to combat it, so I kept going with the words in my heart. “Growing up in the hood with a mother like mine can be hard on your self-esteem. I
’ve always felt like I was less than, you know. Like people saw me as this low-life because of where I came from. But you—you were different. You treated me better, even when your friends at the church were turning their noses up.”
My eyes burned with tears. I tried to keep them from coming out because I didn’t think she’d want to see them. I didn’t want her to think I was putting on an act, but I couldn’t keep them back. I wiped the salt off my mouth and kept speaking. “I have loved talking to you. Learning about the Bible from you. Having you treat me like an equal. Like I was good enough to be around you.”
“But even after that you continued to sleep with my husband.”
Her words sliced me in half. “Not really.”
Angelina tilted her head. “Not really?”
I was so ashamed. Ashamed especially of that last night with Greg. I could have said no. Larger tears spilled down my cheeks. “I mean—I didn’t really want to, but I didn’t have a plan B.”
Angelina stood. She shook her head and looked up at the sky.
“About Greg.” The words came out just above a whisper.
Angelina looked down at me now. Looked like she couldn’t believe I was going there. I knew I didn’t have the right to, but I owed her. “You remember that night at the hospital when you talked to me about Mekhi. You said you knew that he hurt me, but he loved me and maybe I should try to forgive him.”
She didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. She was taut like stretched rubber band, waiting for my next words. “He never talked about you. I mean . . . Greg isn’t the first married man I’ve been with,” I said with shame. “And they all kind of talk, even if it’s a little; they complain about their wives. He never did that.” I shook my head and swallowed. “Never. So what I’m trying to say is, I don’t know why he was with me, but I think maybe it had nothing to do with me and nothing to do with you. I don’t know a whole lot about relationships, but I think Greg really loves you. Just remember what you told me about Mekhi.”
Angelina stood there for a long time. Maybe a minute just staring at nothing in particular. The light breeze gently moved her hair in a cascade of ribbon. Her makeup was flawless, her clothes, her stance. She was the woman I wanted to be when I grew up. I realized looking at her in that moment that who she was wasn’t about money and it wasn’t about clothes. It wasn’t about who she was married to. It was about who she was on the inside. I wanted to say something. I wanted to tell her that I appreciated all the things she’d taught me. I had been too choked up to find words, and just when I was getting it together to speak, Angelina came out of her trance. She had some words for me, and she let me have them.
“Rae—Samaria, whatever your name is. You are a home-wrecking, backstabbing, tramp. I’m not going to make you feel better about what you’ve done. I’m not going to tell you I forgive you, and I’m not going to tell you any of it is okay.” She walked to her car.
I heard the words. Felt them prick my heart, but I still couldn’t let her leave this way. “Wait,” I yelled and followed.
She pulled the car door open, looked at Katrice, then at me. “What do you want?” Her teeth were grit so tight, I thought I might get my butt whop after all. She had run out of patience.
“I want you to understand.” I made a fist and banged it on the passenger side door. Angelina’s eyes cut to Katrice, and then back at me. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Angelina shook her head incredulously. “I do understand, Samaria. I understand that I was wrong about you. Now I never want to see you again. Please don’t make me involve the police. I believe you’re already in enough trouble.” She climbed in, started the vehicle, and pulled away.
I returned to the bench and stayed there a long time; thinking about my life. Thinking about my choices. It wasn’t Angelina who needed to understand. It was me. I didn’t get it. Mekhi warned me that I might do something that I needed to be forgiven for. He was trying to warn me about the karma or the cycle of what comes around, goes around, and I hadn’t heard him. I hadn’t thought I’d ever love anyone enough to care, but I was wrong. I’d never been more wrong in my life. That woman had been my friend. I’d hurt her in the worst way possible, and I wanted her to forgive me.
Chapter 41
Angelina climbed into her bed and turned off the lamp on the bedside table. She lay flat staring at the ceiling above her. She refused to look at Greg’s empty side of the bed, because she wasn’t going to cry tonight. She wasn’t going to let her mess of a marriage ruin the happiness she felt over today’s events. She closed her eyes, rolled over on her right side, and pretended his space wasn’t behind her.
Today had been a good day. The lawsuit against the DYFS had been settled out of court. The agency had taken the first steps toward severing the rights of Katrice’s mother. It would be an easy termination. The woman had already told the caseworker she didn’t want the girl. Although Angelina had not attended the settlement meeting today, she could just imagine Katrice’s mother walking out of the director’s office with her lawyers and her big check. Robin had been dead for months now, and she’d had one visit with Katrice. That alone would help with the termination of parental rights petition.
“Her loss, my gain,” Angelina whispered in the darkness. That wonderful child that God had bought into her life would be hers to love, and she needed that. God knew she needed to love and be loved by someone.
She’d be a better mother than a drug addict could ever be. Too bad she wasn’t offering the child a two-parent home. She thought about Greg. Thought about the meeting she’d been sitting in when media was snapping pictures of Katrice’s mother. The meeting with a different type of attorney, where she’d uttered words she’d never thought she’d say. “I want a divorce from my husband.”
She pulled the comforter tighter and pressed her head into the pillow beneath her. She refused to let the tears she was fighting come forth. She wasn’t going to grieve over her marriage one more night.
“Angelina, I love you. Those were the lone words Greg had left as a message on her voice mail this evening. Those words had been moving through her soul for weeks.
The telephone rang, and the digital caller ID showed Greg’s cell phone number. Talk about timing, she mused. He was thinking about her too. She didn’t believe in karma, but she couldn’t deny the timing of his call felt like some type of divine connection, so instead of ignoring the phone, she reached for it.
Greg didn’t say hello. He didn’t start off asking her how she was and follow with a homily about how he missed her. He asked her one question. One that surprised her because it was the question she’d asked herself just today. “If it weren’t Samaria, if it hadn’t been someone you’d known—could we work past this?” Greg’s voice was huskier than normal. She recognized pain in its tenor.
Angelina sat up, looked at his side of the bed. She let her loss envelope her for a few seconds, then she swallowed and spoke. “It was Samaria. I don’t know how to think about it another way.”
“Try, Lena,” he whispered. “I’m sorry it was someone you knew. I’m sorry it was someone at all, but please try to move past her.” He paused for a moment before saying the words she knew were coming next. “I love you.”
She shook her head. Gasped for her breath and pushed the END button on the phone. I love you. The words reverberated in her mind and in her soul, but Angelina didn’t want to receive them. She didn’t trust that he meant them. Greg had cheated on her before. What kind of fool would forgive him again? The marriage was over. She closed her heart, closed her spirit, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.
Chapter 42
I walked up the center aisle of New Mercies Christian Church with one goal in mind. I was going to give my wretched life to Christ. I didn’t know what drove me here. Why I’d chosen this tiny little storefront church with mismatched chairs that was badly in need of new carpet. I got dressed this morning and drove until something in my heart said stop. I also didn’t know if I was really convert
ed, or if I were here out of fear and humiliation. Fear that I was going to go to prison. Fear that my mother was going to kill herself with those drugs, or fear that Mekhi would let me down again.
I had to be honest with myself if I were ever going to be honest with God. Angelina said He knew everything anyway. So that meant the Lord already knew my motivation for taking these steps. Based on what I read in the Bible, I didn’t know if it even mattered to Him as long as my heart was in it. But I did know one thing for sure, I wanted to change. I didn’t know anyplace else to make that happen, but the altar. It had been calling me all night.
Although it was difficult I ignored the stares of the congregates around me. Once again, I was the center of attention in a church, but this time, not because I was dressed sexily. Today was quite the opposite. I wore a two-piece sweater set and modest heels. Last night I cut every piece of weave out of my hair, relaxed it and pulled it back into a simple ponytail. No makeup adorned my face. I was surprised. I actually thought what I saw in the mirror this morning wouldn’t have been so bad if I didn’t hear the word tramp reverberating in my mind, but that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was this moment.
Angelina had told me the story of the Samaritan women who’d had five husbands and was currently involved with a married man. God had forgiven her. I’d done some of my own study last night and found Mary Magdalene. Actually read about her. I’d always heard her named referred to as the tramp in the Bible, but tramp though she may have been, Jesus had loved her too. If He could love these women, He could love me.
“What is your name, sister?” the pastor asked, taking my hand.
Tears streamed down my face. The emotion that was heavy in my soul made it difficult for me to answer. “Samaria,” I replied, feeling proud of who the Samaritan woman had become, of who I could become.
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