“Good,” Pill said with a weak smile. Corey couldn’t find an adjective.
“You might have noticed Sister Tripp is not with us this evening. She had another engagement. But she sends her best. I’ve done enough of these that I should be able to wing it by myself,” he assured them, shifting his chair so that he could view both of them.
“This session is meant to be a quick check-in to see how you are doing. We boast a 93 percent success rate of couples who go through Marriage Prep, are married here at Dominion, and have continued on to go through Marriage Maintenance. We even have a third tier available for individual couple’s counseling. So you see, we support the foundation of our families. If your relationship is in trouble, we cannot help if you don’t share with us.”
Pill swallowed hard. She took that introduction to mean the church had a reputation to maintain. There would be no end to the probing if they didn’t do the old smile-and-wave routine.
“I know at our last Marriage Maintenance class, both of you expressed concerns about the topic of financial fidelity, and that was good to get it out in the open. As God would have it, you were coming up on your sixthmonth anniversary. So, here we are. Were you able to talk about it more at home? If so, what did you come up with?” Deacon Tripp asked.
Pill was sure Corey would be bursting at the seams to discuss this topic like he did a couple of days ago at breakfast when he cut up her credit cards. He sat there though, bent at the waist with praying hands over his mouth. There was a moment of silence that was wearing on Pill. She felt they should say something because the silence was telling its own story.
“Well, we talked,” Pill said, hoping Corey would jump in, “and, my husband has decided we need to write down all our expenses, then meet and talk about it every day or so.”
“Okay,” Deacon Tripp said, ready to grab at anything. She thought he might go cross-eyed from bouncing his eyes back and forth between the two of them. “How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t know,” Pill said, looking over her shoulder at Corey. She didn’t know how to feel. Things seemed to be changing so rapidly. Why wasn’t Corey talking? This subject was already out in the open. Why didn’t he run with it?
“Did you clearly communicate to your wife why this step is necessary?” Deacon Tripp said, once again trying to invite Corey into the conversation. “It’s about communication. Explain to her how it will help you in the role of money manager. Why don’t you tell her now?”
“I’m just trying to be a man—go to work and take care of my family. I need to hold on to my resources to do that. She knows that’s all I’ve been trying to do since I met her,” Corey said in a voice drained of energy or expression.
“It’s our resources,” Pill corrected. “It’s like he’s become this money bully, yielding his power over me. Either I stay within this limit or be humiliated, having to beg him for more money. I feel I’m at his mercy, wondering whether he will bail me out of a financial jam. It’s becoming like a parent-child relationship.”
Corey gave a look like he didn’t know what she was talking about. Deacon Tripp let out a heavy sigh, dropped his head, and clasped his hands together as if he were sending up a quick prayer for both of them. When he looked up, he searched their faces as if he were seeing them in a new light.
“Money issues can test a marriage, but sometimes the fight over money is a symptom of something deeper. In most relationships, a rift occurs based on the couple’s perception of being treated fairly. Individuals look to get back what they think they deserve, or at least what they put into the relationship.” He simulated a push and pull gesture with his hands. “Ask yourselves, are you meeting your partner’s needs in other areas? Think about that while I grab some resources for you guys.”
Pill watched as Deacon Tripp excused himself from the room before sitting back in her chair. Corey was in the back seat and she was up front, riding shotgun in their imaginary car. They both stared grimly at the road ahead.
“What are you, the tin man now? You can jump in any time, Corey. You know Deacon Tripp is looking for interaction—a discussion so he can check us off his list. We’ll be here all night if we don’t convince him we are fine.”
“Are we fine? If I say too much, like in Marriage Maintenance, I’m in trouble. If I don’t say enough, I’m still in trouble. I can’t win for losing with you. I’m just listening for your take on things.” He sat back and crossed his arms across his chest stubbornly.
“Do you want to talk about what happened last night here?” Pill looked over her shoulder not at Corey, but at the door to see if Deacon Tripp was returning. “You want me to talk about how you pounced on me like some stalker? ’Cause I am trying to spare you the embarrassment.”
Corey stopped short of a quick retort. He shrugged and was silent for a moment. Finally, he leaned forward, but looked up at her as if her eyes were the sun and the glare was too bright to make direct eye contact at first. When their eyes did meet, he said, “In my mind, in that moment, I felt justified . . . I made a promise last night to myself, God, and now to you, that I would never handle you like that again. I guess I’ll just continue to wait.”
It was as if she had been holding her breath since last night. She let out a big puff of air, knowing that it was all a big mistake. She started to reply, but he cut her off before she could start.
“I don’t get you, though, Pill. I thought I knew you. I thought we wanted the same things—not just stuff, but happiness with each other.”
“You are the one always complaining lately. Seems like you’re the one unhappy,” Pill quickly pointed out. She sat back again and looked ahead to Deacon Tripp’s empty chair.
“I guess you’re okay as long as you have a free pass to do whatever you want, whenever you want,” Corey said, speaking to her back. “Forget you have a husband, a partner.”
“No, but I did think I had a free pass to be myself,” she turned and barked back.
“Which is what, Pill? I don’t think I really know you. This right here,” Corey was gesturing now with his hands in a circular motion to encompass the space between them, “this is the opposite of what I want—this back and forth, back and forth. I waited on you upstairs half the night. The door was wide open for this right here to be resolved.”
“Yeah, right, Corey. You clearly wanted to make love. Tell me how I could, though. I was so blown away. You don’t understand that.” Her thoughts came tumbling out of her mouth in a frantic and furious pace.
“Let me guess, nothing about that situation was sexy,” he said, imitating her voice, facial expression, and hand gestures. “There is always a reason, right, Pill? You wrote the book, 101 Ways to Say You Have a Headache. I married the sexiest woman who, all of a sudden, does not want to have sex,” he shouted, throwing his hand up in an exasperated gesture at his dumb luck.
She wanted to hit him, throw something at him, shush him. Once again, she looked for Deacon Tripp through the cutaway glass.
“The funny thing is that I knew what I did wasn’t cool. I knew you needed a minute, but instead of you telling me that, you chose to sleep downstairs.” He smirked, “At the very least, I expected you to want to talk it through with me—heck, yell and scream at me. Send me to sleep downstairs. I was just looking to settle things.”
Once again, Pill started to defend herself, to tell him that last night conjured up some memories of the past. But she was paralyzed. She didn’t know what to do. Then, Deacon Tripp came bursting in with a few books and a business card.
This was all new to her. Her parents weren’t pillars in the institution of marriage like his were. She had never seen love in action, not even from her own mother. She didn’t forgive easily or get over things like love required. Love expected things she wasn’t sure she could deliver. Maybe, she was the tin man. Maybe she didn’t have a heart, or the one she had wasn’t working.
“Well, I see the two of you have been talking. I was concerned. You’ve been kind of quiet
tonight, Brother Taylor. Is there anything you’d like to express now?”
Corey stared straight as if he were bored with the view from the front windshield. Then his eyes widened as if he were receiving a last-minute revelation. He used his hands, still clamped together, to punctuate each phrase. “I don’t. Think. I’m going to survive. In a sexless marriage.”
Pill dropped her head at his admission. They had officially run off the side of the road, taking the church’s marriage success rate with them.
Chapter 15
It wasn’t right. Even before Deacon Tripp ended their session by highly recommending that the two of them seek additional marital counseling with the first lady of their church, Corey knew his marriage wasn’t right. It was like a broken commode that empties but fails to fill back up. Neither one of them was keen on the idea of having their issues discussed at their pastor and first lady’s dinner table. That was one thing they agreed upon. The reality of the matter was that after they aired their frustrations, they didn’t know how to flush and fill back up on their own. They just stayed empty.
Pill was particularly put off by the idea of more individual sessions. She declined Deacon Tripp’s offer to set up their first appointment. She took the relationship books from him that night and assured him that they would read them and have lengthy dialogues about the points found therein. Caucus was the word she used. But they hadn’t cracked open either one of the books, let alone discussed their stalemate.
Corey was still waiting for the bedroom caucus to commence as well. He was tired of doing all the initiating just to be turned down. He couldn’t take another slash to his already-fragile ego, but he knew exactly where to go to get it repaired.
“C’mon, I got to go,” Corey whined into the walkie-talkie. “Forget this. You might as well write me up now, because I’m not waiting on this old dude all night. No, I am not.”
A staticky chirp, then he heard Crystal’s calm and reassuring voice. “Calm down; you’re there now, boo.”
“Yeah, but he isn’t.” Corey shook the phone as if that would bring her in clearer. Maybe he had gotten the receiver wet. He never seemed to have it mounted when he was talking to her. He had to have it close. “The neighbor that was outside said he pulled off about five minutes ago.”
“Oh no, he didn’t. I just called him for you to make sure he was home,” Crystal declared.
“Now you see who’s playing games here. I’m telling you, I’m about to post this, ‘Sorry I missed you’ notice on Mr. Thomas’s door with a big peace sign on it.”
“Wait, I suggest you give him another ten minutes. Just ten minutes. Remember, I’m documenting your every attempt. I’ll keep you company.”
Of that, he was certain. She had proven to be a dependable ear when he wanted to air his frustration, especially about the ever-elusive Mr. Thomas. “Why am I the one who is always waiting? He scheduled a pickup, and he’s not here.”
“Didn’t I suggest to you earlier to pick up right after lunch?”
“I didn’t have time to mess with Mr. Thomas then and mess up the flow of my day ’cause I knew it would end up like this—a chase. It’s like a sick game to him. Transfer me back downtown. Give me businessmen who work on a schedule. Forget this residential stuff. Better yet, let me manage one of those UPS stores.”
“What, you would up and leave me?” Crystal asked.
In a heartbeat, Corey thought.
Mr. Thomas wasn’t right, but deep down, Corey knew he was equally as wrong. Each time he chirped in with Crystal under the guise of work-related business, he was actually using the company time and Boost Mobile minutes to get his boost. It was a work friendship, he told himself, similar to the one he shared with his buddy, Tyson, although he knew that each courtesy, each conversation, and each chirp mutated their work association into something else.
Earlier in the week, he called the direct number to her office just to ask her when the last time his truck was serviced, which sparked a fifteen-minute conversation into the makes and models of cars they both had once owned. Then the next day, she chirped him at the beginning of his route just to tell him she had caught a Get Smart marathon on TV Land the night before and had immediately thought of him.
She had thought about him at home, away from the job, and he had thought about her.
They joked. They could discuss a topic at length. They vibed. That was more than Corey could say for himself and his wife right now, but he told himself he wasn’t looking for a substitute.
He had blown off the warnings from his family and made a vow to Pill before God. Despite the out-of-order sign placed on their relationship, he loved Pill and wasn’t ready to concede defeat yet in their marriage. If they weren’t going to use the first lady as their plumber to fix their wasteland of a marriage, then he would try to fix it himself.
So, what am I doing with Crystal? Nothing, he constantly told himself. He had to cut down her level of expectancy though.
“Look, I can handle this. Let me quit being a baby, calling on you every time something goes wrong. I’m going to kick my feet back, rest my eyes, and pray that he comes. Then he and I will have a little talk, set some things straight. You’ve been great. I promise I will only worry you if I have a real emergency,” Corey said.
“O . . . kay,” she said, clearly taken aback by his trivialization of their friendship. She was speechless for a moment. “Why don’t you try to catch me when you pull in? Let me know how you made out with Mr. Thomas.”
“We’ll see,” Corey said, feeling like he should avoid seeing her at all costs.
If he were a shopper like his wife, he’d be an impulse buyer. When he saw something he liked, he strategized but usually found a way to get it. That’s the urgency he felt when he met Pill. That’s why now that he had made a purchase, he stayed out of the stores.
He looked around to see if Mr. Thomas had sneaked back into his driveway after disconnecting with Crystal. He dialed Pill’s cell number. Although he wasn’t mobile, he mounted the phone, figuring he needed his hands free while working on the pipes of their relationship.
Pill chirped in with her greeting. The sultriness of her voice still stirred something within him.
“What’s up, love? How’s your day?” Corey asked.
“Ah, well, now, to what do I owe this pleasure?” was her immediate comeback.
Corey squirmed in his driver’s-side seat, trying to get comfortable. “You’re still my wife, right?”
“You tell me,” she replied, not missing a beat.
He heard her give a command to her client, which stopped his equally snappy retort that was on the tip of his tongue ready to leap forth. “I’m not going there with you. I just called to see how your day is going.”
“I’m just sayin’, aren’t you the one who can never really talk during your routes?” Pill continued. “But to answer your question, though, it’s been a long day.”
“Don’t I know it.” Guilt curled up in his lap at the thought of how much talking he and Crystal had been doing lately. “Can you believe I’m still in the truck? This old dude has constant deliveries and pickups, but is never home. It’s some sort of medical supplies, so the higher-ups want me to make sure I do everything I can on my end to deliver. But this guy is known to call and complain to the corporate office when the driver can’t make the delivery. This dude could really jack up my record.”
“So what’s the problem? Just wait for him,” Pill said, the lull causing a loud chirp when she began to speak. He couldn’t help but think her chirps weren’t as sweet.
He could hear the noise of beauty-shop busyness that he assumed added to her usual curtness. Her insensitivity was grating him.
“The problem is that I drag myself out of bed at the crack of dawn but have no set end time when it comes to this guy. I just want to get home, see what you left for me to eat, and unwind—wait for you.”
Silence filled the phone. Then he heard Pill tell the client to follow her and the ro
ar of the dryer afterward. She said something else, and he wondered whether she was talking to him or the client. He was extending an olive branch. Had she even heard him at all?
“What do you want me to do about this man, Corey?”
Listen, maybe, he thought. “Nothing. What time do you think you’ll be home?”
Instant desire spread throughout his body. He would take her, attitude and all, but at this point, he’d take her grilled cheese sandwich, tomato bisque, and her company beside him on the couch as a consolation prize.
“This is my last client, but it’s been a long day.”
He tried to keep it together, but a pipe burst. “You said that already, twice to be exact. I get the point. You’re tired—as always. All I was looking for was a little bit of your time. You don’t have to worry about me attacking you or anything like that.”
“See, I wasn’t even taking aim at that subject. Gosh, you are so . . . I don’t even know what to say to you sometimes.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Corey muttered, looking around again for Mr. Thomas, this time to save him. He was alone, but he wondered how many of her nosy girlfriends could tell there was trouble in paradise on her end from the one-sided conversation. “If you’re still mad from the other night, I wish you’d just tell me.”
“Not that conspiracy theory, that I’m holding on to unforgiveness again. I told you, I’m cool. Like I told Deacon Tripp, I’m not feeling all this pressure about something that will happen naturally, if you let it.”
A new theory was rising to the top of the toilet bowl as Corey couldn’t help but wonder if Pill had another man. Instead of a Crystal, there might be a Chris somewhere crushing on her, wooing her. But unlike him and Crystal, whose friendship and innocent flirtations were based at work, who was to know if Pill and whoever had crossed the line? He had to get off the phone before he gave voice to his speculation in the most obnoxious and counterproductive way.
“Look, I gotta go. I hope to talk to you at home.” He barely heard her reply before chirping off.
Taylor Made Page 12
