You Get What You Pray For

by E. N. Joy

  Mary was Asian. Her birth name was Meizhen, which meant “beautiful pearl,” but she had changed her name ten years ago, when she became a U.S. citizen. She’d informed the wives that changing their names once they became U.S. citizens was something many Asian women did. She said it made them seem more Americanized and enabled them to fit into American culture and society better. She’d also told them that the name Mary looked better on her résumé and job applications. Her birth name was a dead giveaway that she was foreign born, and therefore, it could potentially hinder her from getting a job due to someone’s personal hang-ups or ignorance.

  Mary, the daughter of two doctors, had been educated at Ivy League schools, and so she looked good enough on paper to get a first interview. By the time she wowed the interviewer with her genuine brilliance and charm, it didn’t matter if she was an alien from Mars. The girl was bad in every sense of the word. She was brains and beauty wrapped up in sushi, an egg roll, spring roll, or whatever. Her husband, Dr. Gerald Haroll, thought so as well.

  As luck would have it, Gerald was the doctor who had interviewed Mary for her internship during medical school. She’d graduated from med school with honors, but instead of following in both her parents’ footsteps, she’d followed in only her mother’s . . . at least in one of her footsteps, anyway. Mary became the wife of a doctor. And not just of any doctor. Dr. Gerald Haroll was one of the best pediatricians in the state of Ohio. Lorain even took her girls to him.

  “Some American men can be intimidated by a woman who is equally as smart and as wealthy as they are,” Mary had said to the women. “So imagine how my dear husband would feel if he realized I am much smarter than he’ll ever be.” She placed her index finger on her lips as the women laughed. “And I was wealthier when I was only eighteen than he is now,” she had confessed. “But he needn’t know about the trust fund my grandparents and parents set up for me, which I never touch.” She’d winked. “We live off of his money, and his money alone.”

  “Mary, you sneaky little devil, you,” Lorain had said, tsk-tsking and shaking her head.

  “Hmm, you American women taught me well. But the heck with just a secret bank account on the side. I’ve got a whole trust fund.”

  Of course, at the time Lorain had had no concept of the notion of trying to provide for every contingency, but eventually, she’d kick herself for not learning a thing or two from Mary about having a plan B. But perhaps if Lorain had stuck with God’s plan, she wouldn’t have ever found herself in the position of needing a plan B in the first place.

  Chapter 2

  “Next time you’ll have to use my guy,” Tabby said, sitting down at the dining room table holding the Scotch egg in her hand and observing it. “Clifton could have done something with this yolk besides leaving it yellow.” She bit the egg. “Umm, but it is tasty.” She smiled.

  Lorain shot Tabby a fake smile, all the while really wanting to show her the saliva dripping from her fangs. That dang Tabby. If Lorain wasn’t such a lady, she’d snatch those thousand-dollar extensions off Tabby’s head, soak them in the fountain, and send her out of her house coordinated with the whole Valentine’s theme. But that wasn’t who Lorain was anymore, thank God. And thank God that He’d forgiven her for the times in her past when she had gotten out of line and resorted to getting physical. He’d even forgiven Lorain for the ultimate no-no of putting her hands on her own mother.

  At one point, having such an estranged and nasty relationship with her mother, Lorain had resorted to laying her hands on her, and not in the spiritual sense, either. It wasn’t until after being tried time and time again by her mother that Lorain lost control of herself. It was still no excuse for Lorain to black out like that. But when her mother accused her of perhaps having a sexual relationship with her own biological father, Lorain snapped. So hanging Tabby’s snooty, stuck-up tail out to dry wouldn’t have been a problem for Lorain. Sure, God would forgive her, as He had forgiven her for the incident with her mother and had even restored their relationship. But how many days of her life had been shortened by dishonoring her mother? Only God knew. And Lorain wasn’t about to make her days—her days of freedom, at least—any shorter by going at Tabby.

  Besides, that was the old Lorain: the angry, bitter Lorain, who deep down inside had blamed her mother for not protecting her from her molester, who had impregnated her at thirteen. It was an act that Lorain had never told her mother about as a young girl. Years later she’d only wished she had, since, adding salt to the wound, her mother brought the molester into her home, not knowing what he’d done to Lorain all those years ago. On top of that, Lorain’s mother ran off and eloped with the man. The old, unforgiving Lorain had felt her mother definitely deserved to have hands laid on her for that one.

  According to Lorain, if a woman married the man who raped her daughter when her daughter was a child, then the daughter had every right to be mad . . . at the whole darn world! And for quite some time, Lorain had been mad at the world, especially the male species. Men became nothing more than pawns in Lorain’s miserable world. She became numb to anything they had to offer. They were toys in her game of life, and they had to pay to play. That was until she met the one and only Dr. Nicholas Wright. He changed her life, in more ways than one. Were it not for him, she wouldn’t be entertaining these wives of doctors in her house right now. She’d be off somewhere with their husbands, while these women ate cupcakes.

  “I’ll make sure to get your guy’s number for the next time Scotch eggs are on the menu,” Lorain lied to Tabby.

  “Pink, white, yellow, or green,” Mary said, finishing off an egg of her own, “these babies are to die for.”

  “Well, thank you kindly, Mary.” This time Lorain offered a genuine smile, one that came from inside her.

  “So, how’s Nicholas and Tom’s new private practice coming along?” one of the women asked Lorain.

  Lorain lit up at the opportunity to boast about her husband’s year-old private practice. “It couldn’t be better. He couldn’t have partnered with a better physician.” Lorain smiled at Angel, Tom’s wife, who stood over at the punch fountain.

  “The feeling is mutual.” Angel held up her crystal cup full of punch.

  “I can’t believe it’s been a year already,” Lorain continued. “Nicholas is so much happier, it seems, now that he’s his own boss.”

  “Doesn’t he still do work in the ER?” another one of the wives asked, chiming in.

  “Yes, as community service one weekend a month,” Lorain answered. “He says it keeps him grounded.”

  “You know what they say. Charity is the best gift.” Mary smiled.

  “I thought the saying was ‘Charity starts at home,’” Tabby noted and then turned her nose up as she looked around the room.

  She allowed her eyes to gaze briefly at the long glass dining table, which sat ten people, four on each side and one at each end. She felt that the table’s stone base, which was akin to a white mountain, was cheap looking. The high-back chairs, smothered in custom-fitted chair skirts, were eye-catching. But the chair skirts were a shade darker than the table’s stone base, and Tabby felt that anything custom made should match the stone base to the T. The chair skirts threw it all off. That was something only Tabby would notice . . . and be bothered by. As she swept the room with her eyes, a stern expression on her face, she silently insulted Lorain’s taste in decor. Since she did a little wedding planning on the side, Tabby felt she was always one up on everybody else when it came to decor. She claimed to have been in charge of the decor for million-dollar weddings.

  “You would know about charity needing to start at home, wouldn’t you?” Lorain retorted, then chuckled.

  “Ladies.” Isabella joined the women at the table after grabbing a red frosted chocolate cupcake. “I sense a hint of sarcasm on both ends, and we all know the rules.” Isabella was the oldest wife in the group and, clearly, the voice of reason and the peacemaker. She was always there to break up a fight before the fir
st punch was ever even thrown.

  Lorain rolled her eyes as the women, herself included, chanted their mantra. “We’re doctors’ wives living fabulous lives, taking giant strides to avoid the not so wise, and as we come together, joining as one, we’re friends, not enemies, six strong but all one.”

  A couple of the ladies clapped and cheered, as the air was now clear. No shade was being thrown whatsoever.

  For the remaining two hours of fellowshipping, the women did their regular routine: they bragged about new pieces of jewelry their husbands had gifted them; about exotic vacations they had taken or planned to take; about parties, events, and affairs; and about their children’s stellar progress in school. Then there was talk of suspicious, sexy receptionists or nurses accused of having designs on one of the husbands.

  “Tom’s a good man, a good doctor, and a good husband,” Lorain assured Angel after she voiced her concerns about the receptionist at their husbands’ joint private practice.

  “I know,” Angel said. “But I have my reasons to be worried. That Helen reeks of sex.”

  “Oh, stop it,” Lorain said. “Helen goes to the church I used to attend. Remember, I’m the one who told her about the position. I would never bring trouble to our doorstep.”

  “I know you wouldn’t,” Angel said. “Not on purpose, anyway, but in this case you didn’t know any better.” The women urged Angel to explain herself by staring her down. “See, Tom cheated on his last wife with his receptionist.”

  A couple of the women gasped in disbelief.

  “It’s true,” Angel assured them.

  “No way. Not Tom.” Lorain refused to believe that Tom even had such tendencies. He had always seemed like such a nice, respectful man. “How do you know?”

  “Honey, I was his last receptionist,” Angel revealed.

  The women couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

  “And I thought I was a hot mess,” Carrie said. “Girlfriend, you do the most.” She stood. “And on that note, I’m ’bout to run my tail home, get buck naked, and wait for my husband in bed. I’ll be wearing nothing but my white-red bottoms and a stethoscope around my neck.” Carrie ran her hands down her hips. “Gotta let him know he got his own dirty little nurse at home to play with. Muah!” She blew the women a kiss.

  The women began to whistle and give catcalls as Carrie swished away. Carrie suddenly stopped and turned around to face Lorain.

  “Girl, let me borrow some of these rose petals,” Carrie said. “He likes how they stick to me after some sweaty, stinky—”

  “Girl, please. They are all yours!” Lorain said, holding her hand up to signal that she did not need to hear any more details of Carrie and her husband’s sexual rendezvous.

  “You are just nasty.” Tabby placed her hand on her chest in disbelief and stood as well. “And on that note, I’m going to call it a day as well.” She leaned into Lorain and in a loud whisper said, “And can I have some rose petals too?”

  There was more laughter and some side eyes from the women.

  “What?” Tabby raised her hands, in question mode. “Carrie is a newlywed. I think she may be on to something here about keeping the relationship fresh.”

  Carrie inhaled. “Uh-huh, nothing like the smell of fresh roses on top of the smell of some hot, stinky sex!”

  “Oh, now, stop it.” Isabella blushed and stood.

  Carrie snapped her neck back. “Don’t you even act like you and Dr. Sam ain’t freaks,” Carrie teased Isabella. She then looked at the other women. “Don’t let her gray hair fool ya.” She pointed at Isabella. “I bet I know where some other gray hairs are that Dr. Sam likes.”

  “Child, silence your tongue.” Isabella wagged her hand at Carrie as she turned beet red.

  The ladies bent over laughing at the sight of Isabella in all her discomfort and at the entire exchange itself.

  “Okay, ladies,” Lorain said after she was able to calm down from laughing so hard. She stood up. “Let me escort you all out before Carrie turns our monthly meetings into something we’ll have to host at a strip club or an adult toy store.”

  “Hmm.” Carrie put her index finger on her chin, in thought. “That gives me an idea for my theme for the month I host.”

  “Oh, God, Lorain. See what you’ve done?” Isabella said. “You’ve given the girl ideas that could get us all into trouble with our husbands.”

  “Get your girdle out of a bunch, Mama.” Carrie slapped Isabella on the butt. “I know what you and Dr. Sam keep in that antique chest y’all have in the den.”

  Now it wasn’t only Isabella’s cheeks that turned redder than the water in the fountain in the foyer. Her neck and arms even reddened, as she was so flustered.

  “Uh-huh,” Carrie continued. “Y’all probably nicknamed the room the Lion’s Den, like that adult toy store over there on—”

  “Enough, Carrie,” Tabby said, shaking her head. “You’re going to make poor Isabella here hyperventilate.” She turned to Lorain. “Lorain, darling, outstanding. Everything was lovely and delicious.” She kissed Lorain on each cheek as she grabbed her purse.

  “Yes, just lovely,” the other women agreed in unison, collecting their belongings and then allowing themselves to be escorted to the front door. If the women hadn’t remained on the red carpet as they went, the sounds of their heels tapping on the maple floor in the foyer would have been heard.

  Carrie opened her Chanel bag and scooped rose petals into it on her way out.

  “Really, Carrie?” Lorain stood with her hands on her hips.

  “Oh, you thought I was just playing?” Carrie said, snapping her neck back. “Child, my mama wouldn’t even send me to preschool, because I don’t play.”

  “Lord, help her.” Lorain looked up to the heavens and laughed.

  After smiles, good-byes, and kisses on each cheek, Lorain closed the door to her last guest. She walked into her great room, went over to the couch, and flopped down. Her body was like a limp noodle. She took off her shoes, which had been killing her feet. She kept herself from cussing out loud at her throbbing little toes as she flung the shoes across the room and closed her eyes.

  “Whoa. I’m glad to see you too.”

  Her eyes opened, and she looked up, taking note of the medium height, the dark skin, the mini Afro, and the soft brown eyes of the chocolate hunk of a man, who was standing there, her sparkling stilettos at his feet. He stepped over them and began walking toward Lorain.

  “What a sight for sore eyes.” Lorain smiled and then squirmed in a sexy manner on the couch. She was tired and worn-out to the hilt, but no way would she pass up this opportunity for sex on her proverbial beach. “You are exactly what I need right about now.”

  “Leon is always right on time,” he said, speaking in the third person.

  “Leon, huh?”

  “Yeah, baby.” He began to unbutton the top two buttons on his shirt while looking around the room. “Where is everybody?”

  “The staff is in the kitchen, cleaning up.”

  “Your mother and the girls?” he questioned.

  “Next door, at her place.” Lorain nodded in the direction of her mother’s house.

  The detached in-law suite, which was only twenty feet away from the main house, had been the deal closer for Nick and Lorain. They couldn’t close on the house soon enough after becoming aware of that amenity, one that they hadn’t been searching for initially. Being a doctor’s wife who did charity work in the community and having two kids wasn’t easy. Keepin’ up with the Joneses, that is, the other doctors’ wives, was a job in itself as well. From day one Lorain’s mother had been her right-hand gal, keeping the girls whenever Lorain needed someone to care for them. They’d had to purchase two of almost everything because the girls spent so much time in both houses. Now having her mother right next door to help her with the girls was a blessing from God. It was really going to pay off now that she had Leon all to herself.

  “Then it sounds like Leon can take you in his arms
. . . .” He walked over to Lorain and scooped her up. “Take you upstairs.” He kissed her on the lips. “And do all kinds of nasty things to you that Nick could never dream of doing to you.”

  “Oh, Nick can dream,” Lorain said, wrapping her arms around her knight in shining armor’s neck. “But what Leon does to me is every woman’s fantasy come true.”

  “Then why are we wasting time standing here, talking, when we should be upstairs in that big bed, doing what grown folks do?”

  “Then put your money where your mouth is, and put your mouth—”

  “Are all them stuck-up hussies gone?”

  At the sound of Eleanor’s voice booming from the dining room, Lorain quickly found herself back down on the couch, right where she had been mere seconds ago.

  “Looks like Leon will have to take a rain check,” Nicholas said, putting away his alter ego, for now, anyway.

  Lorain poked her lips out in disappointment. She loved it when her husband role-played as Leon. Leon was actually his middle name. Lorain always teased him and told him the name sounded like it belonged to some young black gigolo whom married women hired to keep them company while their husbands were away on business trips. Nicholas had taken it and run with it, becoming her imaginary sidekick. They both had to admit that it kept their four-year marriage fresh. Leave it to Eleanor to spoil the moment.

  “Hello, Mother,” Lorain said as Eleanor entered the great room. She looked behind her mother, certain she would have seen two mini figures trailing behind her, but she didn’t. “Where are the girls?”

  “In there eating up all that pink- and red-sugar stuff, of course,” Eleanor replied.

  Lorain sat up straight. “Mom, you can’t let them eat all that sweet stuff. They get one sweet treat a week. You know darn well diabetes runs on my father’s side of the family.”

  “It ain’t running that fast,” Eleanor said, “seeing that it ain’t caught up with him and killed him yet.”

  “Mom, please. Besides that, we’ve invested too much money in the girls’ dance and ballet classes. Ballerinas are not chubby, and sweets lead to chubbiness.” The more Lorain thought about it, the more upset she got. She stood up. “And they know better. They have a competition next weekend. Let me go get them. . . .” Lorain started walking away, but Eleanor stopped her in her tracks.