Troy motions for me and the girls to come over. I see the girl up close, and she’s not as young as I thought. She has the smoothest and prettiest skin that I’ve ever seen. Her slanted eyes are almost catlike with their hazel hue; I wonder if they’re contacts. She is wearing a tight-fitting jean dress unbuttoned to her midthigh and tall leather boots. After taking her all in, I’m immediately uncomfortable. What Christian woman wouldn’t be?
“Pam, meet Aria. Aria, this is my wife and daughters.”
“What a quaint little family.”
“So, Troy,” I ask, “how did you find Aria?”
“Actually, I found him.”
This girl has a strangely seductive voice. It’s husky and quiet, and she forces you to strain your ears if you want to hear what she’s saying. I don’t like it. All I can imagine is her leading my husband off to some seedy hotel room and having her way with him. My God! I truly need to pull myself together.
“Yeah, Pam. I still can’t believe it myself. She just walked up to me and said, ‘I want to sing for you.’”
“Really? That’s fascinating. You just go up to strangers and sing for them?”
She’s laughing now, and it sounds like wind chimes.
“No, no. I knew that he was in the industry. He had that look.”
What look is she referring to? The Cadillac Escalade and those dreadful hip-hop fashions? If Troy buys another Sean John outfit, I think I’m going to lose my mind. To me, he looks like an old cootie.
Troy says, “All I had to do was hear that voice one time. I signed her immediately.”
“I see.”
“So what brings you down here anyway, Pam?”
“I was just in the neighborhood.”
Troy is grinning, but not paying much attention to me. He rifles through some papers and checks his watch.
“Well, you know you’re welcome here anytime, honey, but next time call first. Okay?”
I hear myself saying “Okay,” although I’m furious. And Ms. Aria seems to think the whole conversation is amusing. I might even be inclined to display some of my anger if I didn’t have my children with me.
I’m still angry even after the girls and I are in the car. Call first? Is he treating me like one of his groupies? I don’t know what Troy is thinking. Obviously, he’s not thinking at all.
For some reason, I’m not quite ready to go home. I can tell that the girls are getting restless. They probably want something to eat. I’m a little bit hungry myself. I almost want to turn around and go back to that studio and give Troy a piece of my mind. Or maybe I’m just hoping to find him in a compromising position.
I notice that I’m on Taylor’s street. I wonder if I should drop by. I don’t even know if I’m welcome, not after that mistress statement. I need to apologize for that. But I don’t think I want to revisit the topic, even for an apology. However, she hasn’t been at church in two weeks. It wouldn’t be right for me to not check up on her. She’s still my sister in Christ.
Gretchen and Cicely both sigh when they realize that I’m stopping the car and we’re not at home. I explain to them that we’re checking on a church friend. They still look disappointed.
Seconds after I ring the bell, I see Taylor’s head pop out of her door. She doesn’t look happy to see me. I smile anyway and wait for her to tell me to come upstairs. She reluctantly waves her hand, and the girls dash up what seems like a hundred steps.
Gretchen says, “Hi! Where’s Joshua?”
Taylor smiles. “He’s in his room playing with Legos. Do you want to join him?”
Both Gretchen and Cicely nod. I give them the okay, and they dash for the back of the apartment. They’ve only been here a couple of times. It’s funny how children remember things when they want to.
“Pam, what can I do for you?”
I really want to tell her about how I suspect my husband is doing drugs and his newest protégée, because right now I can’t think of anyone else to talk to. But Taylor is not my friend. Just a sister in Christ.
“I was just wondering how you’ve been, Taylor. You haven’t been at church in a couple of weeks.”
Taylor replies softly, “I’ve been in church. I just haven’t been to New Faith.”
“Oh, I see. Are you leaving our church?” I hope that she can hear the concern in my tone, because I really don’t want to see her go.
“I’m considering it. Can you really blame me?”
“Well, I don’t think you should have to leave.”
“I know I don’t have to, but mistresses aren’t really smiled upon, are they?” Taylor asks with a smirk, reminding me of my slight.
“About that . . . Taylor, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you that.”
“You said what you meant. Everybody else just looks at me out the corner of their eyes, like I’m about to steal their husband or something. It doesn’t help that Yvonne sits up in front of the church looking all pitiful. I don’t know if I’m going to put my son through that.”
“Have you tried talking to her?”
Taylor’s eyes widen incredulously. “Who? Yvonne? To tell you the truth, I’ve wanted to.”
“What would you say if she was willing?”
Taylor thinks for a moment and responds, “I would tell her how sorry I am that I allowed the devil to use me in coming against her marriage. I wouldn’t make any excuses or try to blame Luke, even though he is partially to blame.”
“I think Yvonne is intelligent enough to know that Luke is responsible for his actions.”
“Maybe . . . do you think she’d forgive me?” asks Taylor hopefully.
“She’s a reasonable woman. She may not completely forgive you immediately, but I don’t see why you two can’t come to some sort of truce.”
“You tell me how reasonable you’d be if your husband’s mistress wanted to be friends.”
“Her husband’s former mistress, right?” I ask. She nods. “I didn’t say be friends. I’m not crazy, but at least you all could figure something out so that you don’t have to leave your church home.”
“I don’t want to leave New Faith, but maybe it’s best if I lay low and visit some other churches for a while. At least until everything dies down.”
“I guess I can’t fault you for that. And if I was in your shoes, I’d probably do the same thing. So . . . how’s work?”
“Good. I got promoted. I’m Glenda’s personal assistant now.”
“I like to hear that.”
“Do you miss it yet?”
“What? Work? No, not yet. I kind of miss having something to do all day, but I do not miss coming in there.” I laugh. “Sure don’t.”
Gretchen comes jogging up from Joshua’s bedroom. She’s doing her pee-pee dance, and Taylor giggles.
“Do you have to use the bathroom, honey?”
Gretchen nods emphatically, and Taylor directs her to the bathroom. When she’s done, I already have my coat back on, and I’m putting Cicely’s on too. Taylor looks a bit disappointed.
“Are you leaving already?”
“Yeah, girl. I’d like to stay longer, but Gretchen and Cicely are hungry.”
“Well, okay. You know that you are always welcome to come by. I could use the company.”
I wonder if this is an open invitation of friendship. The smile on Taylor’s face is sincere. It’s been a long time since I had a girlfriend. When I married Troy, I thought that he should be my best friend and confidant. Sometimes a woman needs the honest opinion of another woman.
“Oh, girl, I’ll definitely be back.”
Chapter 18
Yvonne
Two days have passed since Luke found out that he has a son. He hasn’t said anything to me about the subject, and I sure don’t want to start any controversy. I’ve been baking cookies and cakes—getting ready to try and have the merriest Christmas that I can hope for under these circumstances.
Luke left early this morning. He didn’t even say good-bye when he left. He was t
alking to someone on his cell phone. I think it was a lawyer. He’s dead set on not giving Taylor any of his hard-earned money. It’s a shame, and it makes me angry every time I think about it. If he had done his part from the jump, I probably still wouldn’t know about this mess.
I hear a car pull up outside, and I look out the window to see who it is. It’s Pam and her little girls. She’s got the girls bundled up in red wool coats. They look so cute. She’s here to pick up some Christmas cookies that I baked for them.
I swing open the door. “Merry Christmas, Sister Pam! Come on in.”
“Merry Christmas!” shouts Pam as she stomps the fresh snow from her boots.
I help Pam and the girls out of their coats and show Cicely and Gretchen to the kitchen table, where there are cookies and hot chocolate waiting. Little Gretchen loves my gingerbread cookies, and Cicely prefers the sugar cookies.
I fix hot chocolate for Pam and myself, and we go into the sitting room. I hope Pam stays awhile, because I could use a friend right now.
“You done with your shopping?” asks Pam.
“Yes. I only get gifts for Luke and Pastor and First Lady Brown.”
“I usually only shop for my household, but this year I got a little something for just about everybody I know.”
I smile when Pam pulls a package out of her bag. “Girl, you didn’t have to get me anything.”
Pam hands me the gift. “I know. But I wanted to. Why don’t you open it now? You don’t have to wait until Christmas.”
“All right.”
The wrapping paper is so pretty that I don’t want to rip it. Pam has an excited look of anticipation on her face, so I open her gift quickly. It’s an ornate antique picture frame. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s brass and has very detailed scrolling all around the oval shape.
“Pam, thank you so much. This is beautiful.”
“It would be nice for a picture of you and Luke. Maybe when you first started dating.”
I respond with a tight smile and place the picture frame on the table. Right now I don’t even want to look at any pictures of Luke, much less put them in a frame. I think Pam realizes her mistake, because she’s shifting uncomfortably in her seat. I refill her hot chocolate cup.
Pam, admiring the tree and decorations around the house, says, “Yvonne, you sure know how to do Christmas. You put me to shame.”
“This is nothing.”
“Girl, it’s like a winter wonderland over here. It even smells like Christmas.”
“Seems like all I’ve been doing is cooking these past few days. It keeps me busy.”
Pam knows about the paternity results. I left her a voice mail message. I think her visit today is more about showing her support than feeding cookies to Gretchen and Cicely. I truly appreciate it.
Pam places her hand over mine and asks, “Are you all right, Yvonne?”
“For the most part.”
“Have you talked to Taylor at all?”
I shake my head emphatically. “No. And I don’t plan to.”
“I think it would help you. The adultery has been over for a long time now.”
“Well, it’s still new to me.”
“Yvonne, we need to pray on this.”
Pam grabs both of my hands. I bow my head very low so that Pam can’t see the tears.
“Jesus, we ask in Your name for a victory. Victory over sin, victory over a broken marriage and victory over unforgiveness. Lord, we ask that You strengthen Yvonne today. Lord, just give her peace that surpasses all understanding. Jesus, make her to know that she just needs to stand still and let Your spirit guide her in this situation. Lord, we pray for Taylor. We pray that her broken heart is mended. We pray that she can be the mother that Joshua needs and that she raises him up to be a man of God. We pray for her strength and her esteem, Lord. We thank You, right now, in Your name. Amen.”
I don’t know what to say about Pam’s prayer. I didn’t expect her to feel any compassion for Taylor. It feels like a betrayal. But everything she said was true. Taylor needs prayer as much as I do, maybe more.
Breaking the silence, Pam smiles and asks, “So are you going to give me that corn bread dressing recipe, or am I going to have to beat it out of you?”
Chapter 19
Pam
I haven’t really had much to say to Troy since I visited him at the studio. He claims that he doesn’t smoke marijuana, but even if he doesn’t put the joint to his mouth, there is enough smoke in the studio to keep him high all day. Even though I’m angry, it is Christmas, and I want to enjoy it.
This year I literally bought enough toys and clothing for ten children. Most of it was for Gretchen and Cicely, but yesterday me and the girls took a huge bag of gifts to the downtown battered women’s shelter. I’m surprised at how generous my children are. They wanted to go and buy more so that even the mothers could have something nice to open.
Since I have nothing but time on my hands, I’m attempting to cook my first full-fledged Christmas dinner. I’m a decent cook, but I’ve never tackled a holiday meal. I don’t know the first thing about roasting a turkey. I’ve been hounding poor Yvonne all day. She says that she doesn’t mind, because even though it’s Christmas Eve, she hasn’t heard from Luke in a day or so. Her helping me is distracting her from her feelings of rage toward him.
I’m busy chopping vegetables when Troy walks into the kitchen. He looks genuinely surprised to see me trying to cook.
“Look at Julia Child!” jokes Troy with a laugh.
“Ha, ha. I’m doing this for y’all. If it was up to me, we’d be eating Chinese takeout for Christmas dinner.”
“Well, I love a turkey dinner, so it will be greatly appreciated!”
I roll my eyes, and Troy pretends to ignore me. He knows that I’m not really happy with him right now, but he’s been trying to keep the peace. Troy’s good at ignoring problems until they go away, but this time we’re going to confront some things head-on.
Troy comes up behind me and puts his arms around my waist. I nudge him back with my elbow, and Troy sighs wearily as he backs away.
“What’s wrong now, Pam?”
“Troy, we need to talk.”
“About?” asks Troy nonchalantly, as if he really doesn’t want to know.
“What happened when I visited your studio?”
Troy frowns. “You’re going to have to be more specific. I thought you visited my studio and met my newest rising star. What is there to talk about?”
“About the fact that you were high?” I enunciate every word angrily, as if each is a blow to Troy’s head.
Troy bursts into laughter. “Pam, you aren’t serious! You smell a little smoke, and you assume that I’m high. Baby, I’m always mellow when I get in my music groove.”
“Don’t play me for a fool, Troy.”
Troy throws his hands into the air. “Look, I don’t do drugs. On occasion I’ll have a little too much to drink. You act like I’m an alcoholic.”
“You’re too old for that mess, Troy. We’re pushing thirty, and we’ve got children. You need to stop being so selfish.”
Troy doesn’t respond. He sulks out of the kitchen like a wounded child. Sometimes it feels like he’s genuinely reaching out to me. Anger keeps me from reaching back. I know this, and yet I have no idea how to get around it. I would love to go back to being the free spirit I was when I was twenty-two. But I grew up, and he didn’t.
I stop what I’m doing when I feel the tears on my face. Help me, Lord! I love my husband, and I want our marriage to work. Please, Lord, help me not to harden my heart to the father of my children. Help him be a better husband and father. Jesus, take the taste for alcohol out of his mouth and make him hunger and thirst after righteousness. And, Lord, help me to be the wife that he needs. Remind me, Lord, that I need to make room for him in my life. Lord, above all, draw him to You.
Troy and I stayed up all night wrapping the girls’ gifts and placing them under the tree. It remind
ed me of the Christmases I used to spend at my grandparents’ as a child.
Gretchen and Cicely woke up at the crack of dawn and raced downstairs to open their presents. Troy and I had to pull ourselves out of bed too, so that we could get everything on film. It seemed like I’d only laid my head on the pillow for an hour before I had to wake up again. I make hot chocolate for everyone while Gretchen and Cicely tear into their stacks of gifts.
I emerge from the kitchen with a huge tray, and Gretchen is modeling princess attire for the camera. Cicely is carefully placing all of the tiny combs and brushes from her doll set into a purse so that they don’t get sucked into my vacuum. I usually end up throwing Barbie’s shoes in the garbage before Ken ever gets to see them on her feet.
“Who wants hot chocolate?”
“Me!” is the collective response I receive from Gretchen and Cicely.
Troy takes the tray from me and puts it on the table. The girls sit down and dump an insane amount of marshmallows into their cups. Troy goes under the tree and hands me a package.
“Here, Pam. I want you to open this gift first.”
I wipe my hands on my apron and take the gift. I can tell Troy wrapped it, because there is tape everywhere. The box inside holds a gold-embossed journal, with my name inscribed on the front.
I smile up at Troy. “Troy, this is the best gift. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“What made you buy me a journal?”
“A few weeks ago you said that you wanted to do more than be a wife and mother. Did you think I forgot you were a writer?”
I pause for a moment and reply, “I don’t know.”
“Well, I think that a writer should write.”
A slow grin spreads across my face. I didn’t think Troy was listening to me when we had that conversation. Well, if he heard my random complaints, maybe he heard the part about Jesus too.
Chapter 20
Taylor
I was curious when I came into the office, after the New Year, and saw the huge bouquet of flowers perched right in the middle of my desk. Aside from Joshua’s joy at opening his ton of gifts from Luke and Yvonne, my Christmas was pretty depressing. I went to the church singles’ Christmas party and felt completely out of place because, surprisingly, everyone was paired off. They’d either brought dates or found someone in the singles ministry. I should’ve been delighted to see the flowers, but I knew they couldn’t be good news.
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