I Ain't Me No More

by E. N. Joy

  “You’re forgetting your drink commission.” Candace was waving a few bills in her hand.

  I took one step toward Candace.

  You don’t need it. You don’t need money. You just need me.

  I heard those words loud and clear. It wasn’t some booming voice that put fear in me. It was a soft, calm, loving, peaceful voice deep within a part of me that I couldn’t explain. It didn’t take someone born on a church pew to know that it was God. So many times in life God had tried to speak to me, to direct my path, but I’d refused to listen. All those other times I’d been too busy running to stand still long enough and truly take in what God was trying to tell me. God had never been able to get a complete sentence out before I’d already taken off running. But now, for the first time, I was standing still. There was no longer anyplace to run. Every direction I’d tried to take myself in before had taken me to a dead-end cliff where I struggled to keep my balance. No more. The devil had me cornered. It was now a matter of life and death. There was only one place my flesh could lead me, and that was over the cliff, and that meant death.

  I looked around the club.

  Was I ready to die?

  I took one step back.

  I inhaled a deep breath.

  I’d made up my mind.

  “Give it to her.” I nodded toward the dressing room.

  “But it’s yours,” Candace said, with a confused look on her face.

  “I know, but I ain’t me no more. So give it to her.” I nodded once again toward the dressing room, toward the girl I had left in the mirror. I then proudly walked out that door, knowing exactly what I was leaving behind . . . and it wasn’t just the money.

  I chose life!

  Stone Number Forty-one

  The women in the New Day Temple of Faith Singles Ministry had never been this hushed during one of the meetings. There was usually some type of chatter or back-and-forth banter regarding the men in their lives or the lack thereof. Even if someone was giving a praise report or testimony, there was still some type of amen or someone adding their two cents to the kitty. Not this time. It was as if after hearing Helen’s story, the women were absent of dialogue.

  “You wanted my story, and now you have it. The whole twenty-six years,” Helen told them, breaking the silence. She stretched her arms in the air and then allowed them to drop back down to her sides. “So now what? You gonna kick me out? Gonna ban me from the church?” Helen said defiantly.

  This was pretty much what Helen had expected of her so-called church family. Never in her life had she ever really felt as though she fit in, not even with the family she grew up with. So why should anything be so different now? The only difference, though, now was that Helen knew if they threw her out on her tail, she’d land in God’s lap. She’d been battered and tossed by life’s raging sea, but whether she wanted to admit it or not, God had always been right there with a life jacket. There was no other explanation for how she’d made it this far. It certainly could not have been on her own strength.

  Still, no one spoke.

  Finally, Mother Doreen cleared her throat and then said, “How did you end up here, Sister Helen? I mean, literally, how did you end up here at New Day?”

  “Well,” Helen began, “the night I left the club for the last time, I got a flat tire on the freeway as I headed to my house.” Helen thought back to the night as she continued to explain. “I remember saying, ‘Lord, I did the right thing, and now here you have me stuck out here in no-man’s-land in the middle of the night to be kidnapped, raped, and chopped up into little pieces, anyway. I might as well have stayed with Dub.’” Helen let out a chuckle. “Not that I probably hadn’t deserved just that type of demise. After all, it wasn’t like God hadn’t come to my rescue before. Me shouting ‘Hallelujah’ at the time and then promising to turn my life over to Him, which I never actually did.”

  Mother Doreen let a gentle, knowing smile cross her face, letting Helen know that she wasn’t alone. She had heard that story before, maybe had even been in the same position herself once upon a time.

  “But then this couple came along.” Helen shook her head as her eyes began to moisten. “And they actually offered to help.” Her voice was laced with disbelief, even though she knew it firsthand to be true. “I . . . I couldn’t believe God was sending me help once again. God still wanted to help me.” She pointed to her chest as a tear fell. “All the promises I had made to God and had broken, yet He still was there for me. He still cared about me and came to see about me.”

  “Look at God,” Tamarra mumbled softly to herself, reminded of how, no matter what, God was a God of second chances.

  “The couple, I know, was sent by God,” Helen continued. “The man, he put my spare tire on, while his wife stood with me and conversed. He had my car back up and running in no time without incident. I knew they were a nice, churchgoing couple, because before they left, the woman held my hands and prayed for me. I tried to pay them, but they wouldn’t accept anything. They told me that coming to visit their church would be compensation. I knew that was nothing but God trying to cash in on the debt I owed Him—”

  “No,” Mother Doreen interrupted. “Jesus already paid the price. That was God letting you know that He hadn’t brought you that far just to leave you stranded there.”

  Helen smiled and nodded at Mother Doreen’s revelation. “That very next Sunday I was here. The message that day was so moving that it moved me right on down the altar to join the church.”

  Helen looked around the room, into some of the women’s eyes. “I know what some of you are thinking, that joining the church has obviously done nothing for me. But you are all wrong. It has. Believe it or not, I’m so much better than I might be had I not joined the church. It’s just that . . .” Helen’s words trailed off as she got choked up. “I’m still in so much pain. I hurt so bad inside, and sometimes that hurt wants out and wants company. It wants other people to hurt too.”

  Tamarra spoke up. “I hear what you are saying, Sister Helen. I’ve harbored so much pain inside that you wouldn’t believe. But hurting other people is not part of the healing process.”

  “And just joining a church, be it as it may, a great start,” Paige said, jumping in, “is not enough.”

  “You should know,” someone said in a low, condescending tone.

  Paige turned around to find the culprit, but Mother Doreen, sensing something was about to jump off, interrupted.

  “Paige is right, Sister Helen.” Mother Doreen stood up and walked over to Helen. “I know you joined the church, but have you been . . . saved? Have you ever spoken with your mouth and believed in your heart that Jesus Christ is real? That He is the Lord? That He died at Calvary for the remission of your sins? That He rose from the grave and now sits at the right hand of the throne in heaven with our Father, God?”

  Helen’s eyes filled again with tears just hearing Mother Doreen say those words with such conviction and truth. She shook her head.

  “Well, have you?” Mother Doreen asked. “Do you really, truly believe that?”

  Helen nodded. She did believe. Looking back over her life—in the form of standing there, divulging every nook and cranny of her grainy past—Helen knew it was nothing but a simple and long overdue earnest cry for help. And today, without a shadow of a doubt, God had indeed heard her cry. Just like always, He’d sent her help. This time it was in the form of these women of New Day Temple of Faith. And on this day, the same way that God had received Helen with open arms in spite of her blemishes, she was going to open her arms and receive Him.

  “Mother Doreen,” Helen said, trembling, “you have been right about a lot of things you’ve spoken, but there is just one thing you are wrong about.” Helen swallowed and then said, “I do owe God. I owe Him my life . . . and I’m ready to give it to Him.”

  “Amen!”

  “Praise God!”

  “He’s worthy!”

  Now, those were the customary sounds that echoed througho
ut the room at a New Day Singles Ministry meeting.

  “Then, child,” Mother Doreen said, placing her hand on Helen’s shoulder, “let’s give God what you owe Him. Let’s get you saved!” Mother Doreen turned to get her Bible, then paused. She turned back to face Helen. “That is, if you want to be saved.”

  “Yes.” Helen could barely get the word out through her tears. “I want to be saved.”

  Mother Doreen retrieved her Bible and began to read scriptures to Helen regarding one’s soul being saved. “Lift your hands up to God in surrender, my dear child,” she told Helen.

  Helen lifted her shaking hands and then repeated after Mother Doreen as she led her to Christ.

  “My child,” Mother Doreen said, her own eyes filled with tears, “you are now saved. You are now a member of the Kingdom.” She threw her arms around Helen, who was shaking and crying. “Now give Him some praise.”

  “Thank you, Jesus,” Helen proclaimed. “Thank you for saving me. Literally, Jesus, thank you for saving me.” Helen rested her head on Mother Doreen’s bosom and sighed. Sniffing and praises could be heard from some of the other members.

  Eventually, Mother Doreen pulled Helen away from her. She stared her in the eyes. “Not only are you a member of God’s Kingdom, but you are also a member of this church family. Ain’t that right, saints?” Mother Doreen said matter-of-factly, looking over Helen’s shoulders at the sometimes feisty divas of the New Day Temple of Faith Singles Ministry.

  The women didn’t speak a word. Instead, one by one, they got up, walked over to Helen, and put their arms around her. The more the women embraced her, the harder Helen shook with tears. They didn’t care about how jacked up she was on the inside or what she looked like on the outside. They didn’t care whether her blood pumped the same way as theirs. They coveted her like family. Helen let them in, receiving their embraces. The women’s actions showed Helen that she was worthy.

  That was not the only thing the women’s actions showed Helen. The same way God had blessed Helen with this church family was the same way He’d blessed her with Rakeem and his family . . . her family. The same way Helen was receiving these women was the same way Helen should have received her family—blood or no blood. This brought on the realization that some of her pain had been self-inflicted. She’d allowed her mind and heart to harbor unfounded grudges. She made a mental note to reach out to her family and acknowledge them as being her gift from God. It was a little late, but she was ready to tear off the bow and rip the package open.

  As Helen stood in the midst of the women, a foreign object blanketed her very being, an article she would wear internally eternally. Love. Real love. Genuine love. Unconditional love. Unconditional love was what Dino had promised Helen. But she hadn’t believed him when he was telling her these things. She’d been afraid, afraid that his little outbursts would turn into bigger outbursts later on, and she wasn’t willing to live the life she’d lived with Dub all over again, to have the same stuff, different man. But most of all, she’d been afraid that she really didn’t deserved unconditional love, and therefore, it would have been nothing more than part-time bliss disguising itself.

  Right now, at this very moment, Helen was certain that what she was experiencing was no masquerade. It was the real thing. A feeling swept over her, whispering to her soul that her life would never be the same. Because for the first time ever, she had truly let love into her heart. God was love.

  On that day Helen learned that knowing there was a God wasn’t enough. Talking to Him every now and again wasn’t enough. Not even believing in God was enough. Simply joining a church definitely wasn’t enough. But now Helen had had enough. She’d had enough of pushing around that stroller of hurt and pain, coddling them like newborn twin babies. Today she cut the umbilical cord, weaned them, packed up all their belongings, and kicked them out of the house all in the same day.

  Sure, she’d suffer from a case of empty-nest syndrome here and there, but ultimately, that void would be filled with all that God had for her. She feared what her life would be like without having the twins around, but she feared even more how her life would end up if she held on and babied them. She’d grown far too dependent on hurt and pain, and now it was time for her to grow dependent on God.

  Turning her life over to Christ would not make Helen a whole different person overnight, but it was a start. Come morning she would be nowhere near where she needed to be in life, but she wouldn’t be where she used to be, either. Most importantly, day by day in her walk with Christ, the closer she grew to Him, the farther she would be walking away from who she used to be. Amen!

  Epilogue

  “I saw Grandma Daniels today!” Baby D says with such excitement while getting off the school bus and running into my arms. Usually, my mom gets him off the bus, because Baby D is still staying with her. He goes to school from her address. She has a doctor’s appointment today, so I’ve picked him up instead.

  “What?” I’m not sure if I’m hearing my son right. Ever since Dub got that extra year in jail because of me, I haven’t heard a peep from Ms. Daniels.

  “Yes, she came to my school and had lunch with me today. She brought me McDonald’s!” Baby D is having the hardest time containing himself.

  I guess after almost a year, Ms. Daniels couldn’t stand not seeing Baby D anymore. I’m not mad. I would have allowed her to see him, just under the condition that she promised not to allow him to speak to Dub on the phone. But she never reached out to me, and I certainly am not about to reach out to her, not knowing what her reaction might be.

  “So she brought you some McDonald’s up to the school, huh?” I ask.

  “Yep, and she brought you something too.” Baby D begins to dig in his book bag as we head to my car. “Here you go.”

  Baby D hands me a letter. My breath abandons me as I read the envelope. It’s not what is written on the envelope that gives me pause. It’s how it’s written.

  HELEN

  I’d know that handwriting anywhere. It’s none other than Dub’s.

  “What’s the matter, Mommy? You okay?” Baby D asks as I stand by my car, immobilized.

  “Yes, b-baby,” I stammer. “Everything is okay. Let Mommy buckle you in.” I get Baby D buckled up in the backseat, then plant myself in the driver’s seat. I just sit there, clasping the envelope. Finally, I inhale a lungful of air and remove the letter inside the envelope.

  Hi, Helen.

  Please don’t ball up this letter and throw it away before reading it. It’s not what you think. It’s not like all those other letters. I was on some crazy, jealous stuff then. But I’m over it. Don’t get it twisted. I didn’t get over it overnight. I had to go through counseling and anger management. The court ordered the anger management. The counseling was something I requested. I’m understanding the source of my anger. I know I watched my dad treat my mom as bad, if not worse, than I treated you. But I know I can be a better man. Oh, and guess what? I got my GED too. I’m taking English and math courses and stuff. It’s pretty cool. When I get out of here next week, I’m coming out a new man. A better man.

  Anyway, I just really wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for ruining your life. I bet you regret the day you ever showed up over at Rochelle’s house to meet me. It’s funny because it wasn’t even you I was supposed to be meeting. Rochelle had told me that y’all’s girl Chelsie was digging me and wanted me to meet her over at her house. That afternoon when I showed up and met you there, I’d been expecting Chelsie, but I just rolled with it. I think she was just trying to get me over there because she knew I hung with Earl Lee and she wanted to get with him. Nonetheless, I was glad it was you there and not Chelsie. I just wish I’d done you better.

  I miss my son. I know you won’t bring him to see me, but would it be cool if my moms brings him? I know that you and I will never be together again, but I’d still like to have a relationship with my son if at all possible.

  Well, I won’t keep you. Just wanted to say I’m sorry
and hope you have a good life. God bless you!

  Dub

  P.S. My mom’s number is 614-555-4321. Call her to set something up with Baby D. Give him a hug and a kiss and tell him his daddy loves him. I’ll apologize to him myself when he’s old enough to understand.

  “Looks like Dub found God too,” I say to myself. “Or God found Dub.”

  “What, Mommy?” Baby D asks. He is now eight years old and is growing up to be a kind, loving, and respectful young man. Disconnecting himself from the madness that had surrounded him during his earlier years seems to be paying off. That and the fact that God has placed a loving grandmother and great-grandmother in his life to mold and nurture him. I’d been saved for only a couple months, so God is definitely still working on me.

  “Oh, nothing, son. Nothing at all.” I smile as I start the engine to my car.

  I look down at the letter and shake my head. I guess Rochelle ended up getting the last laugh when it came to me. She’d set everything up. This whole thing about Dub liking me had been a lie. She’d lied to him and she’d lied to me for her own selfish and conniving reasons. I can’t help but think that a large portion of my life was not supposed to happen—not to me, anyway—and all because of Rochelle. Had I lived Chelsie’s life, or had I just been a casualty of Rochelle’s interfering with destiny?

  It doesn’t even matter at this point, and there is no room in my heart to be mad at Rochelle. The old me probably would have hunted down Rochelle and figured out a way to make her life just as miserable as mine had been. But I ain’t me no more, and today I know that what God has for me is for me. I’m going to get only what He has planned for me to receive. My portion is mine. And God is such a giver.

  I’ve managed to keep my head above water financially, thanks to the unexpected check I received in the mail from the IRS. That Monday after my last night as a dancer, the IRS notified me that through an internal audit it was discovered that monies, in addition to the refund I had already received for the past three years, were due me. It was almost seven times more than what Damon had offered me that night in the strip club. Talk about waiting on and depending on God to be my provider instead of man.