by Shana Burton
Lawson pulled out a bottle of Merlot from the buffet. “Here. Maybe if they’re tipsy enough they’ll stop arguing.”
“At the very least, if we’re tipsy enough, we won’t care.” Angel popped off the cap and filled her glass. “Drink up, Reggie. You can do it legally now.”
Reginell passed her flute to Sullivan. “Sully, will you do me the honors? I want my first drink to be poured by someone who’s no stranger to emptying a bottle of wine.”
Lawson issued an ominous glare. “Reggie . . .”
Reginell smiled wickedly at Sullivan. “What? We all know that Sullivan has never met a drink she didn’t like.”
“The Bible says that a little wine is good for the belly,” rationalized Sullivan. “There’s nothing wrong with having a social drink every now and then.”
“Yeah, it’s when you drink every day like you do that it’s classified as a problem,” contended Reginell.
Angel groaned. “I can see where this is going. Was I the only one paying attention to Charles’s sermon last week when he reminded everybody that the Lord instructed us to live peaceably with one another?”
“Amen,” said Kina. “Try to get along for the next couple of hours, at least. This is supposed to be a party, remember?”
Lawson wiped her mouth. “And we can’t celebrate this joyous occasion without giving thanks and praise where it’s due.”
“To God be the glory!” acclaimed Angel.
Lawson stood up. “Come here, li’l sister. Let us pray over you.” The ladies all circled around Reginell and pointed their hands toward her with bowed heads. “Lord, we praise and uplift your name, and we come today thanking you for your many blessings and for everyone in this room.
“We come right now asking you to look down and bless my little sister, Reggie. Thank you for covering her with your blood for the last twenty-one years. I pray that you will continue to guide her and order her steps according to your will. Let her seek you first, so that all other things may be added onto her. Let her discern your voice from that of the enemy’s. Keep her under your hedge of protection.
“Lord, I speak life, peace, and favor on Reggie and everyone gathered here today. We thank you for every good gift, and we have faith that we will receive whatever we ask in your son Jesus’ name. Amen.”
“Amen,” seconded Angel as the ladies broke the circle and took their seats.
Lawson raised her glass. “We should make a toast to friendship and prosperity.”
Sullivan hoisted up her glass. “I’ll drink to that!”
“You’ll drink to anything,” mumbled Reginell.
Kina joined them. “To Reggie . . .”
Sullivan grunted.
“To my sister,” said Lawson, putting her arm around Reginell. “And to all my other sisters standing around this table. I love you. To friendship. . .”
They clinked glasses with one another. “Here, here!”
“And to living out your dreams,” stated Reginell, “no matter what it costs you.”
Chapter 2
“I never tried to trap you, I loved you.”
–Kina Battle
Kina closed her eyes and quietly recited, “You, Lord God, are my protector. Rescue me and keep me safe from all who chase me.” Then she turned the doorknob, bracing for what was sure to come next.
“What took you so long?” barked her husband, E’Bell, the moment Kina stepped into their cramped apartment. He hurled the remote control across the living room, narrowly missing her head.
Kina closed the door behind her. “I’m sorry, baby. I just—”
“It’s after eight o’clock!” roared E’Bell. “Didn’t I tell your fat self to be here by seven-thirty? Didn’t I tell you I had somewhere to be?”
Kina eased into the room, scrambling to find the right words to justify her actions and keep E’Bell’s temper at bay. “I know you did. It’s just that I got to talking with the girls and sort of lost track of time.”
E’Bell put his six foot, nearly 350-pound frame against hers, pressing her into the wall. He shoved a finger in her face, filling her nostrils with his foul hot breath, which reeked of beer and smoke. “So, you just didn’t care about what I had to do, huh? I guess nothing could be as important as you shooting the breeze with them same nosy broads you talk to every day as it is.”
Kina bowed her head. “We were celebrating Reggie’s birthday, and I forgot to keep up with the clock.”
He grunted and cracked his knuckles. “Maybe you need something to help you remember that you got a husband at home while you’re out partying with your friends. Maybe I should bust your head wide open to help you remember that next time.”
Kina’s mind flashed back to the last time E’Bell sought to “help her remember” something. It resulted in a detached retina and a swollen lip. That time, like the times prior that he’d gotten physical with her, she kept to herself and concealed it with makeup.
“Baby, I’m sorry. Please forgive me,” begged Kina. “I’ll make it up to you; I swear. Just tell me what I have to do.”
“Do what I tell you without all the complaining and excuses. All I asked you to do is bring your tail home at a decent time, and you couldn’t even do that right.”
Tears leaked from her eyes. “E’Bell, I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”
“You’re about an hour too late for that!”
“I swear it’ll never happen again. You know how much I love you.”
He dug his index finger into her temple. “You call this love, Kina? Look at how you just disrespected me by coming home late. I knew you were stupid, but I did give you more credit than that.”
Kina wiped her eyes. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry I let you down. ”
E’Bell turned away from her. “You see, this right here just proves I should’ve left you back in high school when I had the chance. Instead, I let you trap me into watching you get fatter every day and spoiling any chance I had of getting out of this dump.”
“I never tried to trap you, I loved you. You’re the only man I’ve ever loved.”
E’Bell snatched up a pillow from the sofa, squeezing it between his large hands the way he used to hold a football. “I was the all-city football champ with a future just waiting for me to reach out and grab it. You took that away from me, Kina, and you don’t ever take a man’s dream away from him.” He threw the pillow across in the room in frustration. “This ain’t the life I wanted or the one you claimed we would have.”
“I’ve always tried to make you happy and be a good wife to you,” she wailed.
“You need to try harder.” He grabbed his car keys. “I’m going out.”
“Where are you going?” she asked timidly.
“You know better than to be questioning me like that. And you better not call me all night, either, whining about what time I’m coming home. I’ll be here when I get here.”
She looked down at the frayed carpet. “What about the baby? Is he asleep?”
“Kenny ain’t no baby. He’s eleven years old, but you’d never know it by the way you smother him all the time. He’s too feminine as it is, all that crying he do. I told you I ain’t raising no sissy.”
“He’s just a little sensitive, E’Bell.”
“Yeah, and who’s the one who got him like that? I swear you can’t do nothing right.” He pushed her aside and bolted out the door.
Alone in the room, Kina thanked God for sparing her from E’Bell’s fists. His departure was almost a relief to her. The insults she could handle; in fact, his words hardly bothered her anymore. Years of experience had taught her when and how much to cry to make E’Bell feel like he’d gotten the best of her. The physical abuse was something else, though; something she could never get used to.
Kina took a moment to compose herself and tacked on a smile before going into her son’s room. She didn’t want him to know that she’d been crying again. She knocked on Kenny’s bedroom door and opened it to find
him sprawled on the floor playing video games. “Hey, sport, what are you playing?”
Kenny smiled up at his mother. “Mario Kart. I’m up to level eight.”
Kina made her way inside. “Is that good?”
“Not as good as Cameron—he can get up to level ten—but it’s close.” He winced as his character succumbed to a mushroom, and then turned off the game system. “You were gone a long time. Where were you?”
“I went to see your cousins. It’s Reggie’s birthday, so we had a party for her.”
“I wish you had taken me with you,” he replied with a sigh.
She gathered him in her arms. “You missed your old mama, huh?”
Kenny smiled sheepishly. “I just like it better when you’re home.”
“Didn’t you and your daddy have fun while I was gone?”
“Not really. I mostly stayed back here, and he stayed in the den.”
Without having to ask, Kina knew that E’Bell had probably spent the afternoon drinking and staring at the television. Experience had taught her that too. “What did you guys have for dinner?”
He eased out of her lap and held up an empty bag of potato chips. “I had this.”
Kina shook her head. She didn’t expect E’Bell to be the nurturing caregiver that she was, but she did expect him to at least feed their son when she wasn’t there. She went into the kitchen and returned with a glass of milk, carrot sticks, and a ham sandwich. “It’s not a six-course meal, but it’ll have to do for now.”
“Thanks!” Kenny began devouring the sandwich.
“Wow, you were hungry, weren’t you?” He nodded. “Did you remind Daddy that you hadn’t eaten?”
Kenny swallowed a bite of his sandwich. “No. He said not to bother him and to stay back here. He did give me the bag of chips, though.”
Kina masked her irritation. “Kenny, come sit with me for a minute. I want to talk to you.” He hopped onto the bed and sat next to his mother. She tousled his head and kissed him on the cheek. “So, tell me what’s going on in that brain of yours.”
“What do you mean?”
“What are you thinking about? How do you feel?” He shook his head, but she could tell that he was holding back from her. “Kenny, come on now. You know that we don’t keep secrets from each other.”
Kenny looked down at his half-eaten sandwich and back up at her. “I heard you guys arguing,” he revealed. “Daddy was yelling and calling you bad names.”
Kina stiffened a little. It hurt and embarrassed her for Kenny to know how she was treated by his father. “Kenny, I know that you know better than to be eavesdropping on grown folks’ conversations.”
“I wasn’t, Mama, honest. He was just talking so loud that I couldn’t help it.” Kenny paused a moment. “I don’t like it when he talks to you like that.”
“Honey, your daddy loves both of us. It’s just that sometimes he drinks too much, and it makes him act a little crazy and say a lot of stupid things that he doesn’t mean.”
“But he scares me when he does that. Can’t you tell him to stop drinking?”
“I can’t make him stop, Kenny. He’s a man, and lots of men like to drink, especially when they have to work as hard as your daddy does. You’re too young to understand this, but your father is under a lot of pressure between working, paying bills, and taking care of us. Drinking helps him to relax.”
“Why can’t he relax in other ways? Cameron’s daddy works hard, too, but he doesn’t drink to relax. He just plays golf.”
Kina laughed. “Different strokes for different folks, baby. Mr. Nelson likes to play golf, and Daddy likes to drink. You and Cameron don’t always like to do the same things, do you?” Kenny shook his head. “See?”
“I’m just scared he’s going to hurt you one day.”
Kina shook her head. “He won’t do that.”
“But what if he does?”
“He won’t!” she stated with finality.
“He better not.”
“Or what?” challenged Kina.
“I’d kill him!” vowed Kenny. “I’d kill anybody who hurt you.”
“Kenny, you don’t mean that, and it’s a terrible thing to say, especially about your own father. You better not ever let me hear you talking about hurting or killing anybody ever again. You hear me?” He nodded. “I’m serious.”
“I won’t say it again, but I won’t let anybody hurt you, Mama, not even Daddy.” Kenny turned the game system back on. This time, he switched to a combat game. Kenny aimed at his targets and executed each shot with chilling precision. It unnerved Kina to see him shoot and kill his opponents so callously.
“This game looks violent to me, Kenny. I don’t know if I want you playing this.”
“Yeah—take that!” shrieked Kenny, striking his adversary. “Aw, come on, Mama. I’m just having fun.”
As he continued to play, Kina saw the intensity in his eyes and recalled what he said about hurting E’Bell. She wondered if her baby had the capacity in him to kill, and the thought scared her to death.
Chapter 3
“Your parishioners don’t have to like me; they just have to respect me.”
—Sullivan Webb
Charles walked past their Venetian-inspired bedroom, surprised to find Sullivan slipping into her nightgown. “I didn’t hear you come in. Why didn’t you tell me you were home?”
“Was I supposed to check in with you to prove that I didn’t break curfew?”
Charles tottered into their bedroom and offered Sullivan a heartwarming smile. “Sweetie, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m glad you’re home. I missed you. This house is lonely without my better half. How was the party? Did Reggie like the gift?”
Sullivan sat down in front of her vanity mirror to brush her hair. “It was Coach—of course she liked it. The party was fine.” She turned around to face him. “You know, if you’re looking for something to fret about, you should worry about that hazardous car you’ve got me riding around in. I don’t feel safe with it knocking that way.”
“Baby, I told you to take it downtown and let Mike fix it.”
“Mike who?”
“Michael Matthews from the church—older gentleman, married to Roslyn.”
“Who’s Roslyn?”
“She directs the praise team.” Charles sighed. “Sweetheart, I wish you’d make more of an effort to get to know our members.”
“Why should I? I know what those pseudo-sanctimonious heifers say about me behind your back.”
“The congregation loves you, Sullivan. A few members just wish you would make more of an effort to be friendly, that’s all.”
“Your parishioners don’t have to like me; they just have to respect me.” She began examining her pores in the mirror. “Now, what about the car?”
“Just take it to the shop in the morning. You can trust Mike. He’s been taking care of all of the church’s vehicles for years.”
“And you expect me to wait around at some greasy chop shop all day? Send one of your church peons to do it. Isn’t that what you pay them for?”
“Those church peons are ordained ministers. They were hired to conduct the church’s business, not to do my wife’s bidding for her. Drop the car off, and I’ll have someone pick you up and drive you where you need to go.”
She huffed, “If that’s the best you can do.”
“I was about to go over my notes for Sunday’s sermon, but I would love it if my gorgeous wife joined me for a glass of champagne out on the terrace instead.”
Sullivan swiveled her body, stunned by the suggestion. “You mean the great and powerful Pastor Charles Webb is going to foul his body with Satan’s elixir?” she posed mockingly.
“Only on special occasions, and tonight counts as one. You’ll understand once I explain everything to you.”
“Fine, whatever,” grumbled Sullivan. Conversation on the terrace with Charles she could resist. Conversation on the terrace with drinks was another matter entirely.
/>
Charles left to get the champagne as Sullivan threw open the French doors leading from their bedroom to the balcony that overlooked their sparkling swimming pool. She leaned against the ornate railing, replaying Reginell’s question in her head. Was her life really the way she’d thought it would be? Yes, she had the rich, successful husband. Yes, she had the 4,000 square foot Mediterranean house nestled on three acres. And, yes, she did look fabulous, but none of those things even came close to making her happy.
Charles had always been dapper and charming, especially when she met him right after graduating from college. Having the then prominent forty-year-old pastor lavish her with attention and the social status of being First Lady of Mount Zion Ministries was enough to lure anyone. However, no one warned her about the monotony and boredom that came along with being a pastor’s wife. She didn’t know that she’d be expected to conduct herself as a doting, supportive spouse who smiled through hours of sermons and shouted “hallelujah” on cue. She detested the conservative suits with large, bird-like hats to match that Charles liked her to wear, nor did she delight in being confined to the ways and routines of the church. Everything about her rigid life with Charles contrasted with her wild, carefree spirit, and a part of her hated him for it.
Time hadn’t been as kind to Charles as it had been to her either. He now had a portly belly from indulging in too many covered dishes from the deaconess board. His hair had started to gray and recede, and dark bags had gathered under his eyes from reading his Bible late into the night. He was a sharp contrast to the strapping young guest pastors Charles would invite to the church for Sullivan to drool over.
Nevertheless, Charles still looked at Sullivan with the same loving gaze as he did that twenty-two-year-old he fell in love with nine years ago.
“It’s a beautiful night out tonight,” observed Charles, walking onto the terrace.
“Feels like it’s going to rain to me,” countered Sullivan as a gush of August wind whipped through her hair.
Charles handed her a glass of champagne and reached for her face. “You look so beautiful standing there like that. I think I just fell in love with you all over again.”
