I immediately assumed they were from Luke. That fool is either trying to con me back into a relationship or butter me up just enough to not ask for child support. I’m tempted to knock the flowers directly into the garbage can.
I snatch the card from the basket. It reads, “Taylor: Next time I’m in your area, we must do lunch. Meeting you was the high point of my day. Spencer Oldman.” Okay, that fine, good-smelling, deep-voiced brotha, who just happens to be a president, is actually interested in me? I can’t even believe this.
A smiling Glenda is walking up to my cubicle. “So, Tay, who sent the flowers? Someone special?”
Okay, first of cotton-picking all, why does this woman insist on calling me “Tay”? That is just a bit too familiar for me. I haven’t even been working for her a week yet, and she’s already given me a new name. Why doesn’t she just call me “Kunta Kinte” or “Toby”? Secondly, I know she doesn’t think I’m about to tell her my business. When did we get to be friends? I don’t bond with my bosses. It always makes it easier if they have to fire me.
“Oh, they’re from a friend.”
“A friend, eh? Well, this is an expensive arrangement. It must be a special friend.”
I just smile at Glenda and change the subject. “How was your weekend? I see you’ve got a fresh tan. Did you have a getaway?”
Glenda’s tan is quite noticeable. Last week she had the complexion of an expensive China doll, and now she looks almost Latin. She tosses her blonde hair and grins.
“Yes. A friend of mine surprised me with a weekend jaunt to Cancún. We left Friday evening.”
“Wow. Now, that’s a special friend.”
“I’ve got a new project for you to start this morning.” Glenda goes back to business. “Let me know if my e-mail is clear. By the way, have you heard from Pam? I heard she bought a fabulous new home, and I was wondering if there was going to be a housewarming.”
“You know, I haven’t heard anything from Pam about a housewarming party,” I say sweetly. “I’ll let you know if I do.”
“All right. You do that.”
I’m relieved that Glenda is going back to her office, because I really don’t feel like shooting the breeze with her. I look at the flowers. No one has ever thought enough of me to send me flowers at work. Luke always said that things like roses would show up on his credit card statement, and how would he explain that to his wife?
I pull up our company’s Web site on my computer and look up Spencer’s profile. His office is in Toledo. That’s good. Distance keeps folk from making impetuous choices, and I am notorious for those.
Spencer’s staff numbers close to one hundred fifty. This I also like. Give a black man some authority in the workplace, and he’s not as prone to trying that old domineering attitude with his woman. I can’t stand a brotha that’s constantly trying to prove his manhood.
Of course, from the company Web site, I can’t tell the most important things about Spencer that I need to know. Like is he married, has he ever been married, and if so, how many times? Does he have any kids? Are they grown kids? I am not trying to tangle with any grown opinionated sons and daughters. Does he go to church more than on Christmas, Easter and Mother’s Day?
Wait a minute, though. I’m getting ahead of myself again. All this man did was send me some flowers and ask me to lunch. He did not ask me to marry him or bear his children. When did I turn into one of those desperate women that start planning the wedding as soon as a man smiles in their direction?
For all I know, Mr. Spencer Oldman could be a womanizer that wants to make sure he has a booty call in every city. I am not the one. I wasn’t even thinking about a man until he popped up out of nowhere. I’ve been doing without, and I can continue. For a while.
Still, I need to at least acknowledge Spencer’s gift. It would be rude and impolite for me not to, and plus, I’m not trying to burn any bridges. If nothing else, this brother could be a valuable business associate or a mentor. I can never have too many friends in high places.
I open up my e-mail and start a message to Spencer. I know that I can’t be specific, because anytime you send an e-mail, it’s no telling who in the company will be looking. I would call his office, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to hear that beautiful voice and stay rational. I decide to write a very, very short, professional note. “Spencer: Thank you. Your thoughtfulness is appreciated. Taylor.”
I don’t know if that’s enough. I don’t even know if I sound interested in him, but that’s all I’m writing. He better read between the lines or something. I hurry up and click the send button before I change my mind and add something crazy.
It startles me when my telephone rings. I’m hoping that it’s Spencer, although I only just clicked “send.”
Using my sexy, professional voice, I answer, “Deposit Assessments, Taylor speaking, how may I be of assistance?”
“Taylor?”
I feel the smile drop off my face. “Hello, Luke.” I do not feel like talking to him or thinking of him. Actually, I feel like hanging the phone up in his face, but the family court advocate advised that I try to work with Luke.
“I want to see my son this weekend.”
I just love how he throws those words around. My son. It doesn’t even sound right coming out of his lying mouth. I wish I never started this mess. Joshua don’t need his sorry behind.
“Where would you like to see him?”
“I want him to come to my house and spend the night. Me and Yvonne have fixed up a nice bedroom for him.”
“I don’t feel comfortable with that.”
I don’t know if I want my son around Yvonne. She seems just a little bit too eager to be a part of my son’s world. She is not and will never be his mother.
“So what, Taylor? I have a right to have my son spend the night. You have him all the time.”
“What? Joshua doesn’t even know y’all. And you don’t know him. You are a stranger to him. We have to work up to this.”
“Taylor, you think you’re running this show, but you ain’t. Now that you’re getting my money every week, I got just as much say as you do. Matter of fact, I’m going to petition for full custody. We’ve got a much better home for him here than you can ever give him.”
It’s only been one week since it was proved to Luke that Joshua is his son, and now he thinks he can be a better parent than me? Maybe Luke thinks that a few hundred dollars in Christmas gifts will make up for being missing in action for two years of Joshua’s life. We have a court date in two weeks to establish a permanent support order and set up visitation for Luke.
At this point I’m about to cuss this fool out, so I just hang up the phone. He’s probably recording our calls, trying to build his case. I’m not going to give him any ammunition to use against me. Plus, I’m not about to lose my salvation over this drama. And he can forget about seeing Joshua this weekend. We’ve got plans, or we will by the weekend.
Luke and Yvonne can just get that whole custody notion out of their minds. I know that’s all her anyway. I’ve never seen a woman so desperate to have a baby. I’m not worried, though. There is no judge in this state that would grant Luke even joint custody. I’m sure his lawyer has told him that too. He’s just assuming that I’m stupid, but that’s what happens when you assume.
My phone rings again, and I know it’s Luke calling back to get the last word. This is all becoming tiresome. Luke has been phoning me two or three times a day for the last week. He’s bordering on harassment. If I was a timid woman, I’d already have a restraining order, but Luke does not threaten me.
“Deposit Assessments, Taylor speaking.”
“Taylor, hello. This is Spencer Oldman. Have I reached you at a bad time?”
I feel my entire face light up. He didn’t have to tell me who he was. His voice has a rich tone that is mesmerizing. I could listen to him read the phone book and I’d get chills up my spine.
“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
When 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 ri
diculous 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.
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