Doin' Me

by Wanda B. Campbell

  “It makes a big difference now,” Reyna commented with a hint of sadness. “At any rate, he’s not coming.”

  Starla continued braiding, and Reyna continued wincing.

  “What’s that you were saying about Tyson not coming?” Starla said a quarter of the way through.

  “What?”

  Starla held Reyna’s head up.

  Reyna winced again, not from pain, but from shock. Tyson stepped from his BMW and walked toward the porch. Her breath caught as every deliberate step accentuated his muscular body. She wouldn’t consider him tall, but the tailored suit added inches to his stature. The closer he got, the more nervous she became. Was he going to wish her well or spit more painful darts?

  “Hey, sis,” he said to Starla and gave her a light side hug. “Do you have a minute?” he asked Reyna, without bothering with a greeting. “I need to discuss a private matter with you.”

  Reyna didn’t miss the slight, but her heart still fluttered. “I’m kind of busy right now.” She would not place her life on hold again for a man, even if she loved him.

  Starla held up her wrist and looked at her watch. “You’re right on time. It’s time for me to take a break. Be back in ten.” By the time Reyna looked up, Starla’s back was across the threshold of the front door.

  Reyna’s shoulders shrugged. “I guess you’re in luck.”

  Tyson’s facial expression remained hardened. “Luck has nothing to do with it. This is business.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Tyson stood facing her, like she was on the witness stand and he was the cross-examining attorney.

  “Do you know how to get in touch with Peyton’s family?”

  The question caught her off guard. Why would he ask her anything about the man who had destroyed his house?

  “I don’t know anything about his family, other than they live in Oregon. At least that’s what he told me, but that may not be true.”

  “So you expect me to believe you lived with the man for months and never met or talked to his family?” It was more of an accusation than a question.

  “Believe whatever you like. It’s the truth. Why don’t you ask Peyton yourself?”

  “I can’t. He’s dead,” he answered, then folded his arms and stared at her like he was waiting to scrutinize her reaction.

  At that moment, Reyna knew God had changed her heart. The hatred she had once felt for her abuser wasn’t there. It had been replaced with pity.

  “How? What happened?”

  “According to police, the husband of the woman he was messing with came home early from a business trip and caught them in bed, doing coke. The husband went ballistic and beat them both with a two-by-four. The wife died immediately, but Peyton died two days later from internal bleeding.”

  Her hand covered her mouth. “Oh, my God, what a horrible way to die.”

  “For some unknown reason Peyton had the address to the town house in his pants pocket, which is why the police contacted me, the owner. I wasn’t able to give them any more information than they already have. I thought you might know something to assist them in contacting the next of kin.”

  “Sorry, Tyson, but I don’t know anything. As pathetic as it may sound, I didn’t know much about the man before I moved him in,” she admitted.

  “If you remember anything, give this investigator a call,” he said, holding out a business card.

  “You keep it,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m leaving in the morning.”

  “That’s right,” he said, like he’d remembered something important. “You’re checking into a treatment center. Good luck with that.” He replaced the card in his breast pocket and backed way. “Oh, yeah, congratulations on rededicating your life to the Lord,” he called over his shoulder. Then he was gone.

  A feeble strand of hope bubbled up in Reyna. He might never admit it, but he still cared. His body language might have been aloof and his voice cold, but every time she gazed at him, dark green flecks in his eyes communicated the feelings his heart would never again acknowledge.

  Chapter 34

  The description and pictures on the Internet didn’t do the recovery center justice. What was described as a “luxury rehab treatment center” was in actuality a resort. The single rooms were actually one-bedroom villas with a queen-sized bed with a pillow-top mattress and daily maid service. Meals were prepared three times daily by an in-house chef, and snacks were available twenty-four-seven. Computer and Internet services were available in the media center. The fitness center contained all the latest exercise equipment and a spa, complete with body massages.

  Of all the recreational activities offered at the recovery center, Reyna most enjoyed the early morning walks along the two-mile trail that encircled the facility. The immaculate landscaping borrowed from every hue in the spectrum to create a magnificent kaleidoscope of color.

  During these daily walks she met with God. On most days she talked about her life and the mistakes she had made, while He listened. Some days she simply walked and cried. She lamented that she would never know who her father was. For comfort, she heard Him speak to her spirit, assuring her that He was her father and that He would never leave her. Reyna admitted being angry at her mother for waiting so long to talk to her and teach her how to be a strong woman. In the process of forgiving her mother, Reyna was also able to forgive Pastor Jennings. Their actions hadn’t always been in her best interests, but they loved her. Like her, they weren’t taught how to effectively express love on a daily basis, but in a crisis their actions revealed what they couldn’t express verbally. The Father, in His gentle way, opened her heart to receive the truth that she, like them, was a product of her environment. To demonstrate forgiveness, Reyna sent an e-mail to her mother and Pastor Jennings stating that she had forgiven them and thanking them for coming to her rescue.

  A month into her stay, Reyna finally stopped crying herself to sleep. She couldn’t help it; the nights were the hardest, when she felt the most alone. The mountains, beautiful and calming during the day, were dark and cold at night. The night sky there seemed darker than the one back home. When the lights went out at curfew, it got so dark inside her room, Reyna couldn’t see her hands in front of her. She couldn’t see anything, but the sun’s brilliance always welcomed her the next morning, giving her the energy to face the day.

  One night, while struggling to fall asleep, she applied the dark-light scenario to her life. Sure, she was in a dark place right now, but if she endured and persevered, the Son would carry her to a brighter day. Determined to succeed, Reyna followed the program to the letter: praying and connecting with her higher power, journaling, meeting daily with a counselor and giving accounts of her thoughts and actions, and learning to replace drinking with positive behavior. In the process, she discovered she had a knack for beading. When Jewel and her gangsta girls came to visit on Family and Friends Day, Reyna sent them each home with a necklace and bracelet set and sets for Starla and Marlissa.

  Whenever Tyson drifted into her thoughts, she opted to pray for him instead of pining for what could have been. Unselfishly, she prayed for him to find the right woman to share his life with. After asking God to give her the strength to handle Tyson being committed to someone other than herself, she moved on to another petition. She refused to allow her feelings for him to distract her from receiving the tools to change her life.

  A brighter day—a breakthrough—came eight weeks into the program, during a group therapy session conducted by Dr. Candace. While at the recovery center, staff and clients used first names only to protect their confidentiality. There wasn’t a set format for group therapy. Any and every topic could be discussed in the sessions as long as every participant followed one rule: no lurking. Everyone had to share truthfully.

  Rose, a suburban housewife and mother of two adult children, started the discussion. “I don’t know how I became a drug user. I mean, I’ve thought about it over and over, and I can’t figure it out. I have a loving
husband and family. Nothing traumatic happened to push me over the edge.” She threw her hands up. “I just don’t get it. How did I get here?”

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Josh said, jumping in. “I was next in line to make partner at the firm. I had it all . . . houses, cars, a boat. I even bought a thoroughbred. Next thing I know, I’m disbarred. I can’t remember why I started using in the first place. I think it was a dare.”

  “Any more comments before I address Rose’s and Josh’s comments?” Dr. Candace asked.

  “I’d like to say something,” Reyna said, unsure if she possessed the courage to be transparent. I can do all things through Christ. “I know why I became an alcoholic.” She eyed Rose and Josh, who looked at her expectantly. “On the surface, it was easy for me to blame my verbally and physically abusive boyfriend for my drinking, and I did for a while. I convinced myself that I needed alcohol to mentally cope with my environment. Eventually, I did more escaping than coping. Since I’ve been here, and even before I arrived, I’ve accepted the truth. I became an alcoholic because I didn’t know my value.”

  She paused to let the statement settle in her spirit. This was the first time she had talked openly about having low self-esteem.

  “When you don’t know the value of something, you’ll abuse or misuse it. I didn’t know my value as a child of God, as a woman, or as a human being, for that matter. As a result, I abused myself with alcohol and allowed my so-called boyfriend to verbally and physically abuse me. Had I known my worth, I wouldn’t have gotten drunk and given my virginity to a stranger. Had I realized I deserve respect and honesty, my ex wouldn’t have had the chance to rape me. He never would have moved in with me.” Her voice trembled, and she used the back of her hand to wipe her eyes. Although she was working on forgiving Peyton, discussing the vicious attack proved difficult.

  She went on. “One sip became three, and an ounce became a pint, because I didn’t love myself. I showed up at work in my slip because I devalued myself.” She used the tissue Dr. Candace had handed her to dry her eyes. “That’s how I became an alcoholic.”

  “How do you perceive yourself now?” Dr. Candace’s question broke the silence that had followed.

  “Since I’ve been here, I’ve begun learning who I am and what I like. Before I got here, I couldn’t tell you one activity I enjoyed doing alone. I defined myself through others and what they liked. I thought I needed a physical person to validate me—to make me feel special. I thought I didn’t finish school and open up a practice because someone I trusted told me I shouldn’t. The truth is, I didn’t really believe I’d be successful, and I used their opinion as a reason to drop out with just a year to go.” Another truth spoken for the first time.

  Reyna continued. “Today I know I’m valuable. I’m not perfect, but I’m worth more than a bottle in a brown paper bag. I’ve made many mistakes, but there’s more good than bad inside me. I may not get it right the first time, but I have the power to complete anything I start.”

  Rose and Josh looked perplexed, like they were analyzing her words. Reyna prayed God would use her testimony to minister to them. In the meantime, she added them to her expanding prayer list.

  Chapter 35

  “Son, you couldn’t putt the ball if your life depended on it,” Judge Stokes teased. “I don’t know why you throw away your money every month. You should donate the money to one of your mother’s charities. That may help you get back on her good side.” Judge Stokes was in a jovial mood, and Tyson was depressed.

  “Whatever, Dad. I come here because you’re here and I want spend time with you, but if you prefer I not come, I won’t.” Tyson sat on the golf cart and watched his dad hit the golf ball twenty feet.

  Judge Stokes whistled and admired his shot, then joined his son on the golf cart but didn’t start the ignition. “You’ve been in a funk for weeks, actually since you broke up with Mylan. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

  Tyson huffed and folded his arms. The juvenile behavior was uncharacteristic, but he couldn’t help it. Once again his life lay in limbo, thanks to Reyna Mills. Checking into that recovery center served two purposes: it helped her get over her issues and it helped him avoid dealing with his. Managing a breakup was easy when the other party wasn’t around, but Reyna was scheduled to return home in two weeks.

  They weren’t an official couple when she betrayed him, but this split was more difficult than the first. He’d experienced contentment in the most intimate way with her, and the experience was everything he’d imagined it would be. He wanted more.

  “I’m new at father-and-son bonding, but I think it works better when both parties participate in the conversation,” Judge Stokes said, interrupting his pity party.

  Despite his best efforts to resist, Tyson chuckled. “Did you say ‘funk’? I didn’t know that was in your vocabulary.”

  “At least I got a laugh out of you. Are you going to tell me what’s funkin’ ya?”

  Tyson shook his head. He wasn’t being stubborn. He just didn’t know how to tell his father he’d screwed up his life again, chasing someone who didn’t want him.

  Judge Stokes leaned back in the seat and rested an elbow on his son’s shoulder. “I’m no expert at male-female relationships, but let me take a stab at this. You broke up with Mylan to be with that Rachal girl, who lived in your place. That didn’t work out, so now you’re selling the town house.”

  This time Tyson laughed out loud.

  “Well, am I right?” the judge asked expectantly.

  “No, but close,” Tyson admitted.

  “Well, straighten your old man out.”

  Tyson stared at his father, amazed. At times he found it hard to believe the cool, laid-back man his father had transformed into was the same stoic man who had raised him.

  “First of all, I didn’t break up with Mylan. She broke up with me. It wouldn’t have worked, anyway. It’s Reyna, not Rachal. No, it didn’t work out between us, but that’s only partially the reason I’m selling the town house.” He spared his father the details of the damage Peyton and Reyna had caused. “Before you ask, yes, I still love her, but I’m sure it’s over this time.”

  “But you don’t want it to be,” the judge observed. “That’s why you’re out here, pouting like a five-year-old who’s lost his toy. If you love her that much, then go and fix what’s wrong.”

  “What?” Tyson said, leaning forward. “I thought you said, and I quote, ‘Marry someone who loves you. She’ll make a good home. Love can come later.’”

  “I told you, I’m not the relationship guru.” The judge slapped his shoulder, but Tyson failed to see the humor. The judge sobered. “Look, son, your mother and I liked Mylan, but this is your life. You have to live it the best way you see fit. If your heart is with Reyna, then that’s where the rest of you should be. Your mother and I want you to be happy so we can have some grandkids.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Tyson noted. “I know where my heart is, but I don’t know where hers is.”

  Judge Stokes smirked at his son. “When I was in law school, they taught us how to ask questions.” He shook his head and started the cart.

  “Reyna’s away right now.”

  He shifted the gear into drive. “Is she studying abroad or something?”

  Tyson didn’t believe in sugarcoating anything. Besides, this was his chance to test the truth of his father’s previous statement. “She’s away at a treatment center for alcohol abuse.”

  The cart came to a lurching halt.

  When Tyson pulled up to Kevin’s house, he was still amused at his father’s response to his dilemma. He’d never seen his father so indecisive. The judge had flip-flopped three times on his position before he’d relented. “You gave up Mylan for an alcoholic?” he’d asked at least ten times by the time they’d returned to the parking lot. Condescending and encouraging statements, everything from “Well, if you really love her . . .” to “Have you lost your mind?” had filled the
trip back to his parents’ estate.

  “I’ve got to start going to church so I can pray for you,” his father had said, exiting his car.

  Tyson had put his father’s worries to rest before he closed the car door. “Dad, you have nothing to worry about. I love Reyna, but we’re not meant to be.”

  Laughter had poured from Tyson when his father looked toward heaven and yelled, “Hallelujah!”

  “Hey, sis.” He side hugged Marlissa before entering the house. “Where’s my godson?” Unable to spend time with Kevin Jr. for two weeks, thanks to back-to-back court cases, he missed him terribly. The energetic baby never failed to sooth his spirit just by gurgling at him.

  “He’s out back, on the deck. Mother Scott is holding Bible study.”

  “What?”

  “I’m joking. Actually, she’s reading Bible stories to him. Kevin’s out there to make sure she doesn’t start teaching him how to speak in tongues before he learns to say ‘Daddy.’”

  “He’s going to need backup.” Tyson laughed, then started for the deck.

  Marlissa’s firm grip on his forearm stopped him. “Can I speak to you for a minute?”

  He noted the concern in her voice and gave her his undivided attention. “What’s up?”

  “Have you spoken with Reyna lately? She’s due home in a couple of weeks.”

  Just what he didn’t need: another reminder of her pending arrival. “I haven’t, and I don’t plan to. She returned the keys. There’s nothing left for us to discuss.”

  “Sit down and listen to me,” she ordered, pointing at a stool at the kitchen counter.

  He obeyed and mentally braced for a Marlissa Jennings drama moment. Surely neck rolling and finger wagging would be involved.

  She didn’t disappoint him.

  “I don’t know exactly what happened between you and Reyna. I’m sure she did something foul, because that’s who the old Reyna was—foul and trifling. She’s saved now, and I see a real change in her. You need to cut her some slack. You’ve been in love with that girl too long not to give her another chance.” She leaned in closer. “You know you want to. That’s why you sent roses for her birthday last week.”