My Son's Wife

by Shelia E. Bell

  “You’re welcome. The doctor will be in shortly,” she responded with a smile and closed the door as she exited the room.

  Rena did as she was told and removed all of her clothes and put on the gown. Climbing on the examination table, she fidgeted nervously, trying to concentrate on anything but why she was at Dr. Mitchell’s office.

  When he came in, Rena felt a sense of shame. Dr. Mitchell was a fine, sophisticated and strikingly debonair looking black man. She stared at him, and instead of seeing his face, she saw Stiles. Her mouth refused to address the reason she was there.

  “Mrs. Graham,” he said, pulling her out of her day dream. “What is it I can do for you this morning?” he asked for the second time.

  “I…I really don’t know how to say this.”

  “There’s no need to be nervous. Just tell me what’s going on with you today?” He reassured her with a pat on her hand and a friendly smile.

  “I woke up this morning with a burning sensation in my,” Rena hung her head down and her shoulders slumped over. “In my vaginal area. I have a rash down there too.”

  “I see. I want you to put both feet in the stirrups, scoot as close to the end of the table and lay back.” His voice was gentle and he didn’t sound the least bit judgmental. He stood at the end of the table. “A little more,” he instructed.

  “Doctor, there’s something else I need to tell you,” Rena added. “There’s a chance I might have herpes.”

  “Before we go any further, would you be more comfortable if I have my nurse to come in during the exam?” he kindly offered.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Let’s see if we can find what’s going on,” he remarked. He put on a pair of latex gloves and pulled an exam light next to her. “What makes you think what you have could be herpes?” he asked while he examined her. “Have you had an outbreak before?” he asked.

  “I was sexually active with someone who told me they have it. I hoped the person was lying,” she stuttered. Feeling deftly uncomfortable with his probing examination and invasive questions, Rena fought to maintain control of her emotions.

  “So this is the first time you’ve had an outbreak of this kind?”

  “I think so. It’s the first time I ever had a rash and burning down there. For the past couple of days I’ve been feeling weak and achy. I thought I was coming down with the flu or a cold.

  “Herpes can display flu like symptoms,” he told her. “Relax a little. What you’re feeling now is me swabbing your vaginal area. I’m going to run a culture on you. My nurse will be in to draw some blood. You can get dressed now.” He patted Rena on the shoulder again as she sat up. “I’m going to send everything to our lab upstairs. It’ll take forty-five minutes to an hour for them to run it through, depending on how many are ahead of you,” Dr. Mitchell patiently explained. “In the meantime, I suggest you make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back as soon as they let me know the results are in.

  “Thank you, Dr. Mitchell.”

  Dr. Mitchell left Rena in the room alone. The hour and a half Rena waited was the longest wait in her life. She flipped through the out of date magazines in the room, read all of the wall charts for what seemed like a thousand times, and she prayed just as much.

  The light tap on the door made Rena jump, as the doctor turned the knob and stepped inside. “Mrs. Graham.” The doctor sat on the round stool. “Your results,” he said in a somber like voice, “unfortunately were positive for genital herpes. Your outbreak is pretty severe, but I can prescribe something to ease your discomfort. I don’t know how much you know about the disease,” he spoke calmly as if he’d recited the same speech a thousand and one times before. “Though it’s incurable, it is treatable. It usually doesn’t cause serious health problems. It causes more emotional affects because of the stigma that the disease carries. However, it may play a role in the spread of HIV by making people more susceptible to HIV infection.”

  Rena sat huddled in the chair, listening like a frightened child being scolded by a parent. Tears rested in the corners of each eye, waiting patiently until just the right time to cascade along her cheeks and on to her dress.

  “Are you married?” he asked while he studied her chart.

  “Yes.” Her head dropped a second time.

  “Is there a chance you’re pregnant?”

  “No, I haven’t missed a period, if that’s what you’re asking.” Rena answered with a slight tremor in her voice.

  “Is your husband infected?”

  “No, I…I don’t know,” Rena shamefully responded.

  “I’m going to do a pregnancy test before you leave. We need to be certain. I don’t want to alarm you unnecessarily,” Dr. Mitchell spoke as empathetic yet candidly as possible. “but genital herpes can be life threatening for an unborn child. If it turns out that you aren’t pregnant but you and your husband plan on having children, let me give you a word of caution. There is a chance that you can pass it to your baby.”

  “What will happen to my baby?”

  “A baby that is born, and let me reiterate, I said born with herpes, could die or have serious brain, skin, or eye problems.”

  “Oh, my God, no,” Rena screamed.

  “Mrs. Graham, please, just listen,” Dr. Mitchell said in an even gentler voice. He stepped closer to Rena and held her hand. “If you are pregnant, or become pregnant, we will work through this together. I will refer you to a good obstetrician and you, your husband and the doctor can make a plan that can reduce the baby’s risk of getting infected. Babies born with herpes do better if the disease is recognized and treated early. There have been many cases where infants are born without the disease. But as for now, I don’t want you to worry about that. I want to get you to feeling better.”

  Rena’s hands shielded her reddened face and caught the tears that fell.

  “There is one more precaution you must take.”

  Rena’s head jerked upwards as if from an allergic reaction. The jerk of her head caused tears to splatter from her eyes.

  Dr. Mitchell turned to the right and grabbed the box of tissue from the supply table and passed the box to Rena. “Until I give you the okay, you’re not to engage in sex or have any genital contact whatsoever with your husband, or anyone, not even with a condom.”

  Rena gasped. What does he mean, with anyone else? He probably thinks I’m a slut, or one of those wives who sleep around on their husbands.

  “Let me suggest counseling, proper counseling that is, for you and your spouse. It can help you to learn how to cope with this disease. For instance, you’ll learn condoms can decrease the transmission of the disease, but transmission can occur even if condoms are used correctly because they may not cover all infected areas. Let me assure you that with proper education, you and your husband can enjoy a satisfying sex life.

  Dr. Mitchell reached inside of his white doctor’s coat and pulled out a prescription pad and wrote out a prescription before telling her that he wanted to see her back in his office in one week. He emphasized again the importance of not being sexually intimate for at least two to three weeks, depending on the length of her outbreak.

  Rena arrived home late that night. She couldn’t face seeing Stiles after what the doctor told her. Today should have been a time of celebration for them, but her past wouldn’t leave her alone. She didn’t feel right giving him the anniversary gift she’d bought. Rena opened the garage, and exhaled slightly when she saw Stiles car was not their.

  Rena awoke and saw Stiles sitting on the side of the bed. “What time is it?” she asked groggily.

  “It’s late. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Stiles brushed a lock of her hair away from her face with his hand.

  Rena sat up and leaned against the headboard. “Stiles.”

  He placed a finger against her lips. “Shhh,” he said before he kissed her tenderly. “Happy anniversary, Rena.” Stiles eyes were dark and his face was somber.

  “Happy anniversary to you, Stiles,” she r
esponded sadly.

  “Here, this is for you.” He passed her a black rectangular box.”

  “Oh, Stiles.” She opened the black box. Inside was a white gold necklace with a single diamond dangling from it. Rena gasped and threw her hand against her lips in total surprise. “It’s gorgeous.” She continued to stare at the exquisite piece of jewelry, and guilt filled her heart. “I…I have something for you too,” she said and climbed out of the bed and walked to the chest of drawers. She pulled the bottom drawer open and lifted the gift bag out. “This is for you,” she said as she returned and sat next to him.

  Stiles looked inside the bag. He pulled out a bottle of his favorite cologne, and a navy leather journal. His eyes brightened and he turned and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you. I love it.”

  “I thought you might like to keep your sermon notes in it,” Rena said as she ran her hand over the kid-soft leather.

  “I will.” Stiles placed the gifts on the night table while Rena picked up the black box and studied the contents again before she did the same thing.

  Stiles stood and undressed down to his underwear. Rena’s heart fluttered at the thought of having to tell him, no, again. Surprisingly, Stiles walked to the other side of the bed. He knelt beside the bed and prayed. When he finished praying, he climbed in the bed and pulled the cover up to his waist. “Goodnight, Rena,” he said in a wounded voice.

  Over the next several weeks, Rena was forced to come up with one weak excuse after another to keep Stiles from touching her. Tension mounted in the house at Berry Hill Drive. Would her marriage survive? With each passing day, Rena had her doubts. What she didn’t know was Stiles had begun to have his doubts too.

  23

  The saddest thing in the world, is loving someone who used to love you. Anonymous

  “Pastor, do you have a minute?” Stiles asked one day after noon Bible study.

  “Always for you, son. Sit down,” he ordered. and pointed to the oversized leather chair in his church study.

  Following his father’s instructions, Stiles sat down. His face looked worn. He ran his hand through his hair and held his head down slightly.

  Pastor observed the troubled look on his son’s face.

  “What is it, son?”

  Not really knowing if his feelings were justified, Stiles hesitated before sharing his troubles.

  “I don’t know how to say this but to say it. But my marriage to Rena has been less than perfect. What I hoped and prayed for in a wife is not who Rena is.” Stiles clasped his hands together and rested his elbows on the chair arms.”

  “Tell me what you mean by less than perfect.”

  “It’s like with each passing day, my will is being tested. I feel like my ministry is suffering because I’m suffering emotionally and I’m shameful to tell you, but physically too. Pastor, my wife is a beautiful, desirable woman, yet there’s a gaping hole that’s keeping us from being husband and wife.” Stiles hurriedly wiped away a tear.

  Pastor sat quietly and listened. His years in the ministry had granted him years of experience in counseling and there was probably nothing anyone could say that would surprise him. But seeing the deep hurt etched on his son’s face, shook him to the core.

  “Dad, you know I love Rena. I love her with all of my heart.” Stiles placed his hand over his heart. His shoulders drooped. “But, I’m telling you, this moat separating us is draining the life out of what should be a blossoming marriage.” Stiles rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand and let out a heavy sigh.

  “Son, marriage takes work; hard work. No one said it would be easy.”

  “I know that. I’ve seen you and Mom work through a lot of things. I didn’t expect it to be easy, but I didn’t know that it would hit me head on like this. I mean, we’ve been married a year now.”

  “Stiles, I’m talking to you as father to son right now. I understand all too well your frustration. Here you are, a vibrant, virile young man with a beautiful wife and she’s not interested in sex. Have you and Rena sat down and openly discussed the issues and problems in your marriage? If you haven’t, you need to do it and you need to do it right away.”

  “We haven’t exactly sat down and talked about it. It’s either one extreme or the other.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “What I mean is either we’re arguing about it or we’re going about our day to day lives like it’s something we dare not admit. Like some hush-hush thing between the two of us.”

  “Communication, open communication I should say, is one of the main ingredients you’re going to need if your marriage is going to survive,” Pastor advised.

  “She tells me that I’m paranoid, but I know that I’m not. Shoot, I got more attention from her before we recited our vows than I do now that she’s my wife.”

  “Son, listen to me. Go home to your wife. Sit her down and the two of you talk. You’re not going to solve anything by keeping your feelings bottled up inside. Rena needs to know how this is affecting you and you need to know what’s going on with her too.”

  “I’ll try to talk to her again, but I already know it’s not going to be easy. It’s not going to be easy at all.”

  Pastor moved from behind his desk, walked over to his son and placed a hand on Stiles’s shoulder. He said, “Let’s pray, son.”

  Rena went to Emerald Estates and spent some time talking to Audrey. When the phone rang, Audrey excused herself and Rena grabbed the opportunity to go talk to Frankie. She knocked on Frankie’s bedroom door. Silence responded to her knock. Just as she turned to walk away, she heard Frankie’s voice behind her.

  “What do you want?” Frankie snapped, as she stepped out of the bathroom and into the hallway.

  Rena met Frankie’s unwavering stare with one of her own. “I thought I’d stop by to see how you were doing. But it looks like you’re doing pretty well. I’m glad to see you up and about.”

  “Humph.” Frankie moved pass her, went in her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Is that all you have to say?” Rena’s lips puckered in annoyance.

  “Look, I don’t have time for your holier than thou mess this afternoon. I’m getting out of this place. It’s driving me crazy.”

  “Where could you be going? You know you can’t drive, and you can barely walk, so get used to it.”

  “I’m not going to get used to anything,” Frankie shouted. “I’m sick and tired of being cramped up in this house. Kansas is coming to get me out of here.”

  “You’re so stupid,” Rena lashed out.

  Frankie’s limp allowed her to move at a snail’s pace. Coupled with the fact that she had limited use of her right arm, Frankie was barely ambulatory.

  “You must really be sick in the head. How can you call yourself going somewhere when you can barely walk from the bedroom to the bathroom?”

  In an angry and perturbed tone, Frankie shot back through gritted teeth, “It ain’t your business.”

  Rena swooshed around, flippantly throwing her right hand up in the air at Frankie as she proceeded down the hallway away from her former friend. “You know something, Frankie. You’re not the one that’s stupid. I am. I don’t believe you ever loved me. I’ve come to realize that now, especially after what you’ve done to me. You’re so doggone miserable and hateful. I made a mistake a long time ago, and I’m paying for it now. I thought I had a second chance when me and Stiles fell in love, but you won’t let me have that bit of happiness either. Here I am, standing here arguing with the same low down, evil person who’s ruined my life, and I have the nerve to still care about what happens to you. Never again, I’m out of here and I’m done with you,” Rena huffed before she turned and stormed out of Frankie’s room and the Graham house.

  Frankie slowly made her way to the front door minutes after Rena’s abrupt departure. The wound that Rena had left in her heart hurt more than the physical wounds she was still dealing with. She thought about the things Rena said. So what if she gave
Rena herpes? It was no big deal. But when it came to her life, God acted like He was her personal tormentor rather than the personal savior she grew up being told He was. Why was the hand that God dealt her full of pain and betrayal? Frankie wrestled with trying to understand for years the reasons she was subjected to such a tormented life.

  Memories of Fonda’s molestation plagued her mind and brought tears to her eyes. Then there was Minister Travis. She thought of him as a demon sent to pick up where Fonda left off; to destroy her and turn her into the person she was today. Now there was no turning back for Frankie, no future, no one to understand, no one, not even Rena.

  Frankie opened the front door and ambled outside to wait for Kansas. Frankie unleashed a wave of sobs that had been bottled up for years. Thank God, Audrey was in her room on the phone talking to somebody about somebody else’s business. Frankie managed to steady herself with her quad cane and used her weak arm to brush away the tears. No way would she let Kansas see her crying.

  Through the years, she managed to maintain a pretty tough exterior since those dreadful times in her life. Everything she’d been raised to believe about God disappeared beginning back then. Each time Cousin Fonda came to visit, another callous formed over Frankie’s heart. Minister Travis was a knife to her abdomen. How could God, who was supposed to be good, who was supposed to love her so much, allow her to be molested over and over again? Why did he turn a deaf ear and a blind eye to her torment and her hurt? She was a young girl who loved God with all of her heart, soul, spirit and mind. Now the very thought of church and religion, forgiveness and reconciliation, meant nothing to Francesca Graham. The life she lived was a tarnished life that Frankie believed would never sparkle again. That’s why, as a teenager, she refused to obey Pastor and Audrey when they tried to force her to go to church. She preferred to face the wrath of the rod than sit on another church pew. The whippings were far better tolerated than the alternative of listening to Pastor’s messages about God’s promises and power of protection. Where was God’s protection when she had needed him the most?