by E. N. Joy
“What? What did you say? Did you just call me a whore?” Unique asked, standing up, still with a slight wobble.
“If it walks like a duck and it talks like a duck.. .” Lorain smelled the air. “And if it smells like a—” She broke off her sentence, dodging Unique’s swing. Lorain felt the wind behind Unique’s blow and knew that if she hadn’t ducked in time, Unique probably would have knocked her head off.
Missing her target, Unique did a full spin and fell backward, right into Lorain’s arms. They both hit the floor. Unique struggled to turn around and at least get one lick off on Lorain, but Lorain managed to pin Unique’s arms behind her back. The two lay squirming on the floor for what seemed like hours to Lorain. She made a mental note to break out her treadmill so that she could get her stamina up for the future.
“Get off me!” Unique yelled. “Get your dang on hands off me.”
“Dang on hands?” Lorain repeated. “Shoot, you doing everything else you big enough to do. You might as well go ahead and curse too.”
“Get off!” Unique spat as she squirmed, finally wearing herself down, both physically and mentally. The next thing she knew, she was crying, shoulders heaving up and down, in Lorain’s arms.
“It’s okay,” Lorain whispered in her ear as she rocked her. “It’s okay.”
For a minute there, Unique seemed to be enjoying Lorain’s loving and motherlike embrace. It appeared to be just what she needed, just what she’d been searching for. And sitting there holding Unique in her arms was like a dream come true for Lorain. Ever since she realized that Unique was the daughter she’d thrown away, she’d wanted to do nothing but just hold her in her arms and never let go. She’d prayed for that very moment. It looks like her prayers were coming true. But it was short-lived as Unique abruptly pushed away from Lorain’s arms.
“I said get off of me,” Unique fussed.
“It doesn’t have to be this way, Unique,” Lorain told her, rubbing her arm. “You don’t always have to wear this hard exterior. You don’t always have to fight.”
Unique jerked away. “That’s all I know how to do is fight. All anyone ever wants to do is fight. All my babies’ daddies fight. The only time we ain’t fighting is when we’re sexing.” She shot Lorain a glare. “Not tricking, just making each other feel good. That’s how it is when you from where we from. Besides, it ain’t nothing but the child support he owed me anyway.”
“Yeah, but when you gotta sleep with your child’s father in order to make him come up with money for your child to eat, then let’s call it what it is.”
“Okay, fine. Call it what it is. So you saying I’m a whore? Fine, I’ll be a whore. What you gon’ do? Run and tell Pastor so I get kicked out of my position from the Singles Ministry?”
“No, I’m just going to pray for you, daughter.” This time when Lorain called Unique her daughter, she didn’t mean it in the biological sense. She meant it in the spiritual sense.
“Stop it,” Unique gritted through her teeth. “Stop calling me your daughter. You ain’t none of my momma. I don’t have a momma. My momma threw me in the trash, and the women who raised me only did it for a monthly check from the government, not because they loved me. Real love doesn’t exist, so I take what I can get.”
“Oh, baby girl, if you didn’t believe in real love, then you can’t possibly believe in God. God is love, Unique. Please listen to me when I tell you that. Please listen to me when I tell you that I’m not on the outside looking in at you making judgment. Little girl, I was you,” Lorain said. She began to breath heavily while tears fell from her eyes. “I was that girl whose daddy left her when she was a little girl. I was that girl who spent the rest of her life trying to find that daddy kind of love that was void in my life. I slept with more men than Wilt Chamberlain did women. I slept with the married ones, the gay ones, the young ones, the old ones . . .” Lorain’s words trailed off; her fleshly words. They were wiped out by the words which the Holy Spirit was now dictating to her.
“The old ones,” Lorain continued. “In middle school, I slept with an older man. Thought I was doing something. Thought I was grown. Thought I was in a relationship.” Lorain sniffed back some tears. “He showed me attention that I perceived as love. I perceived it as what I’d been seeking for the past few years. That wasn’t it, though. So even after that, I spent years going from man to man. But not before I had ended up pregnant by that older man when I was in middle school.”
Unique’s ears were fully tuned in. Any high she’d had left was now gone.
“Yeah, that’s right. I got pregnant by this man. Had a baby when I was thirteen. Thirteen! I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t tell anybody, not even my momma. I didn’t have any girlfriends to tell because I never really got along with girls. Most of their mommas wouldn’t allow them to hang out with me because I was fast.” Lorain snickered. “So I had that baby all by myself on the cold, nasty, dirty floor in the bathroom stall of my school,” Lorain cried. “And I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to do with no baby. So I put it in my book bag.”
Lorain was crying uncontrollably because this was the first time she’d ever vocalized what she’d done. “I put the baby in my book bag, and I walked out to the school dumpsters and threw the book bag into the trash.”
Now it was Unique who was trying to comfort Lorain as she crawled over to her on the floor and rubbed her hand up and down Lorain’s back.
“I threw my baby away and left, knowing it was going to die.”
“You mean you let your baby die?” Unique said sadly.
“Yes.” Lorain shook her head and wiped her runny nose. “That’s what I thought for years; that the baby had died.” Lorain looked up at Unique and stared at her with telling eyes. “But then I found out that the baby didn’t die.”
“Oh praise God!” Unique stated.
“Yes, I praise Him for that every day now.”
“What happened to your baby?” Unique was so fixated on Lorain’s story that not once did her thoughts jump outside the box and begin to piece their two life stories together.
“A man found the baby. I think he was a janitor at the school or something. Anyway, the baby was taken to the hospital. It was in all the newspapers and on the television stations. I remember sitting down after supper one day and watching the news with my mother. If I wasn’t a Christian I would tell you all the names she called the woman who would throw her baby away like that. Little did she know she was talking about her own child. The little girl sitting next to her. I was so ashamed. I hurried up and changed the subject, talking loud over the news reporter so that my momma didn’t have to hear all the details. So that I didn’t have to hear all the details. I didn’t watch the news for months after that. I could hardly live with myself.”
“But you were so young. You didn’t know any better. Besides, you said you were sleeping with a man, a grown man. He should have had to take some responsibility, right after he served his time in jail.”
“Nobody would have seen it that way. That’s why I’ve never told anyone.” Lorain , still looking into Unique’s eyes said, “Not until now.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell your secret,” Unique promised.
“Oh, but it’s not a secret anymore. Not now. A secret is something you keep inside of you. Something that belongs to just you. Usually something that burns a hole through your very being. Once you tell even one person, it’s not a secret anymore. I told you. So now it’s not a secret anymore. It’s a testimony.”
There were a few seconds of silence. “Look, I’m sorry I came here tonight. It’s just that I didn’t want to go home and have my babies see me like this. And I didn’t have anywhere else to go. So I had my oldest son’s father drop me off here. But I can catch a cab home or something.” Unique went to stand up.
“No.” Lorain grabbed her by the arm. “You can stay. You don’t have to leave. Besides, I’m not finished giving you my testimony yet.”
“There’s mo
re?” Unique stayed put, never one to walk out on a juicy story.
“Yes,” Lorain said, “there’s more; more than you could have ever imagined . . .”
Chapter Twenty-six
“And again, Mr. Dickenson, we apologize for the actions of our overzealous arresting officer. He’s a rooky. It was his first bust. I guess he’d watched Training Day one too many times.” The police sergeant tried to make light of the situation with a little joke, but Blake wasn’t laughing. He was embarrassed; humiliated. It was almost four o’clock in the morning, and he was tired; tired, embarrassed, and humiliated.
Even at first when Blake had thought only some of his neighbors had seen his wife being marched out of the house wearing nothing but a towel and handcuffs, he was mortified. But that wasn’t enough. Someone had to record the entire episode with their cell phone and turn it over to the media. Now there was probably even a link of the footage on the Internet. The entire world could possibly see his wife half-naked. His real-estate accolades would be eaten alive by this story just like that. This was the type of stuff the world flocked to: drama . . . reality drama. People would care even less now about his cover story in the magazine.
“Anyway,” the sergeant cleared his throat, “your wife should be out in just a few minutes. Can I get you anything while you wait?”
“Yes,” Blake replied before answering sarcastically, “you can get my attorney on the phone.”
“Not that I was eavesdropping or anything, but didn’t you already call your attorney?”
“Yes, but that was for my wife,” Blake stated. “Now I need to call an attorney for when I sue the pants off this place for dragging my wife out of the house buck-naked.” Blake’s tone was low, but menacing nonetheless. Then he pulled out his cell phone just to let the officer know that he didn’t need their phone to make any calls. He’d just been forewarning the sergeant of his intentions.
“Where is she? Where’s Paige,” Tamarra inquired as she approached Blake.
“She was in a holding cell,” Blake answered. “The good officer here . . .” he pointed at the sergeant, “. . . says she should be out in just a few minutes.”
“I can’t believe she’s in jail.”
“That makes two of us,” Blake said as he took a seat. “By the way, thanks for coming.”
“No worries,” Tamarra replied. “Today had already been one of those days. I had a flat tire this morning. Some of my supplies that arrived today were put on back order, and then one of my employees didn’t show up for a catering event. Now this! But at least this time, it’s not about me.” She replayed the last words she just said through her head. “I mean, not that I’m glad it’s Paige in jail and not me. Although there is no way I’d ever want to go to jail. But I’d never want Paige to go to jail either . . .” Tamarra was glad when Paige came from around the corner. She was running out of formulas to clean up her words.
“Paige, honey!” Tamarra exclaimed, then ran over and gave her best friend the biggest hug she could muster up. That’s the good thing about having a friend both in the church and outside of it. For some Christians, after they fellowship within the four walls, it ends there. But not for Paige and Tamarra. Even after Tamarra left New Day, she and Paige still remained just as close as ever, if not closer. It felt good for both of them knowing that their relationship was not based upon their attendance together in a building. “Are you okay?”
Wearing state-issued garb because that’s all she had besides her towel, Paige returned Tamarra’s hug. “Honestly, friend, I can’t say that I am okay.” It was evident that Paige was still a little shaken up, still in disbelief.
Tamarra could feel Paige trembling, so she held her tighter. “It’s okay now. You’re out here with us.”
“I . . . I’d . . . I would rather die than ever go back to a place like that again.” Paige could barely keep her voice from cracking up completely. “I was in there with criminals, Tamarra. Real criminals. Prostitutes, thieves, violent women. One woman still had blood all over her. I don’t know if it was hers from where the police tried to take her down or the person’s she’d assaulted.” Paige began to cry and sniff.
“I’m here,” Tamarra reminded her as she hugged her even tighter. “I’m here.”
Blake watched as the two women embraced. He watched through the slit in his eyes before calling a time-out, stating it had been a long day and it was time for everyone to go home.
When Paige and Blake walked through their front door after leaving the jail and driving home, Paige wanted to kiss the ground. That’s how good it felt for her to be home—like an astronaut returning to Earth. And she thought returning home after a week in Jamaica felt good.... “I can’t tell you how good it—” Paige started before Blake abruptly cut her off.
“Oh, so now you want to talk to me? Now you want to acknowledge my presence?” he fumed.
“Babe, what—”
“What am I talking about?” he mocked sarcastically. “I’m talking about the fact that I had to do back flips, as well as threaten to sue the entire police force to get you out of there without first having to see a judge. And what do you do? You turn that corner and run right into Tamarra’s arms; not my arms—your husband’s—but some woman’s.”
Paige didn’t feel like going there with Blake, not now. Not after feeling so violated with the cavity search inflicted upon her after she was booked. She couldn’t dare put herself in a position to feel violated in her own home.
“I’m sorry, Blake,” she simply stated before turning to go to her room. The next thing Paige felt was as though her arm were being ripped out of its socket. It felt like that because that is exactly what Blake did when he grabbed her and jerked her around to face him. A screeching yelp filled the air. It was so painful that Paige began to float in and out of consciousness. The next thing she remembered was doing ninety down the highway in the passenger seat of Blake’s car, and then him guiding her into the ER.
Yes, she’d surmised properly earlier—this really was hell.
Chapter Twenty-seven
“How does it feel to have your house all to yourself now that Uriah is back at home with his family?” Mother Doreen asked Pastor Frey as she stood in his church office doorway with an armful of clean, folded towels.
“I kind of miss him,” Pastor Frey admitted. “I enjoyed the company. But I believe a man’s place is at home with his wife and family.”
“Yeah, but after he turns himself in on Monday, let’s just hope the courts believe that same thing.” Mother Doreen looked down at the towels and, changing the subject, asked, “Since when did I become your unofficial aide?” She’d taken it upon herself to bring home and wash the little hand towels Pastor Frey used to wipe away his perspiration that sometimes formed when he was giving the Word.
“Well, nobody asked you to gather all the laundry around here and wash it,” Pastor Frey told her in a playfully sarcastic tone.
“Humph! I didn’t figure I had much of a choice when last Sunday you had to use tissue to wipe your forehead. The congregation didn’t know whether to keep their eyes on Jesus or those pieces of tissue scraps on your face. Then there were those wondering if God had dropped manna from the sky and it landed on your face.”
Pastor Frey couldn’t help but laugh. “Woman, you are something else.”
Mother Doreen blushed. “No, I’m just a woman; a woman doing the things she does for her m . . . a . . .” She caught herself before getting the “n” sound out. “. . . her man of God, you know, when the woman is a pastor’s aide,” Mother Doreen rambled.
Pastor Frey stood. “Nuh-uh, woman. You know that’s not what you meant.”
“Uh, I need to go put these towels up.” Mother Doreen made an attempt to leave Pastor Frey’s presence.
“Not before you say what you were really going to say.” He had stopped Mother Doreen from walking away. Each of his hands now rested on her arms as he looked her in the eyes.
Mother Doreen tried to stop t
hose batting eyes of hers, but they were on autopilot, just flapping away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Pastor.”
“Don’t play with me, woman.” Pastor Frey was intense. “You know what you meant. You were going to say that you are a woman doing the things a woman does for her man.”
Mother Doreen coyly looked down. She couldn’t lie, especially not in the house of the Lord. Pastor Frey stood correct; that is exactly what she was going to say.
“Let’s be real with each other for a moment,” he continued. “You and I both know we’ve been spending a lot of time together.” Pastor Frey paused for a minute. “And I’ve enjoyed every single minute of it. But what I want to know right here and right now is if you’ve been doing those things as a woman of God just helping her pastor out or—”
“Oh, so you’re my pastor now?” Mother Doreen asked, knowing she’d not yet joined Living Word, Living Waters.
“Orrrr,” Pastor Frey stretched over Mother Doreen’s attempt to change the subject, “are you doing those things, spending time with me, as a woman—a woman taking interest in a man?”
Mother Doreen bent her head down so low, her face was nearly buried in the towels she held. She was hoping to bury the expression on her face, the one that showed her true emotions. The emotion wasn’t solely embarrassment due to Pastor Frey putting her in a position to have to reveal her true feelings toward him. Not just that, but to reveal her feelings about him to him. The last man whose eyes she’d looked into and shared her feelings with was her late husband, Willie. And to do that with any other man, well, a piece of her felt like she’d be cheating on Willie.
Perhaps that’s why ever since Willie’s death, Mother Doreen had never thought twice about remarrying. She never thought twice about even having another relationship with a man, let alone remarrying. She figured that’s why God had placed it in her spirit to start the Singles Ministry back at New Day. She felt it was God confirming that she’d be single the rest of her life. But Pastor Frey was stirring something up inside of her that she didn’t know could be stirred up in an older woman like herself. She thought those senses and sensations had been buried with her Willie. Pastor Frey had resurrected them from the grave, and honestly, Mother Doreen didn’t think she could pass up on this opportunity for love again.
