Am I making a mistake?
I glanced at my bridesmaids, adorned in peach dresses, and searched for assurance. None came. Uncle Morris laid my hand into Bruce’s. I wondered if the veil over my face hid the fear in my eyes.
It seemed only moments passed before the pastor said, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
Bruce removed my veil, which had covered my face as a sign of my virginity. He leaned in to kiss his bride. Everyone applauded with joy. I was very thankful I was learning to be a good actress, because I was petrified.
After the ceremony, we gathered for a traditional cake-and-punch reception in the basement of the church. It was obvious that Bruce was ready to get out of there. His groomsmen had decorated the car outlandishly, so after a few good-byes and a tearful hug to Mother, we left for Gatlinburg.
The five-hour drive was not what I had imagined. I never expected my young husband to begin the honeymoon in the car. He couldn’t wait to get to our hotel room. Didn’t he understand I needed him to be patient and gentle with me? I am so scared. I began to wonder why I had gotten married.
It’s too late to back out now.
As I prepared to meet my groom in our little hotel room, I questioned why I had not listened to my mother or Aunt Jeanette. Did I really know what love was at the age of eighteen? Did I know how to meet Bruce’s needs as a man? No. I did not.
A young girl has such magical dreams about her prince charming and living happily ever after. But I did not feel like a princess when the night ended. My childhood was gone along with my purity. This one act had completely changed who I was forever.
I had stood my ground and gotten what I wanted. I’d heard the old saying my entire life, and it’d never seemed more appropriate than on this day. “If you make your own bed, you have to lie in it.”
I closed my eyes and tried to shut out the raging question repeating over and over in my head. What have I done?
SEVEN
“For I hate divorce,” says the Lord…
Malachi 2:16
It was the day before Thanksgiving 1977, a beautiful fall day in Tennessee, perfect for a wedding. Mother and Howard Lee were all set to become husband and wife. Pure joy radiated from Mother’s smile and, well, Howard Lee (I no longer called him Coach Jobe) could hardly contain himself. It was a quaint little wedding with just a few family members and friends at a small church in Dover. I watched Howard Lee seal the deal as he planted a big kiss on the woman he had chosen to be his wife. I watched the gravel fly as Howard Lee’s new Thunderbird sped off to get him and Mother to the airport on time for their flight to Ft. Lauderdale. I was so happy for her. I missed my daddy, but I knew it was far better for life to be bittersweet than not sweet at all.
As Bruce and I walked back to our car after the ceremony, I looked intently at him. We had been married for nearly three months, and that empty pit I carried around inside me was still yearning to be filled. As I witnessed the bliss emanating from Mother that day, I wondered where my own bliss was. Would true love come with time as Bruce and I grew old together? We, of course, expressed our love for one another, but something was definitely missing.
We had moved to Clarksville, Tennessee, after we married and purchased a very small, older two-bedroom home. Growing up, Mother filled our home with delicious smells and indelible memories, and I looked forward to doing the same with our new humble abode. But as life would have it, we had to pay the bills. So we worked. I got a job as a teller at a local bank while Bruce took college courses throughout the day and worked the second shift at a boot company during the night. We rarely spent quality time together because we hardly ever saw each other. My hopes and ideals quickly became nothing more than empty dreams.
As time went on, I heard less and less from my high school friends. They were all now experiencing college life—dating, going to games, and making new friends. Just being young.
I didn’t want to regret my decision to marry Bruce, but I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of loss deep inside. The realities of being an adult and a wife brought with them a heavy load. My disappointment and misery began to eat at me.
Bruce was a good guy. He took life one day at a time and assumed everything was fine. But I didn’t know how much longer I could keep playing the game of husband and wife. Bruce deserved so much more than what I was willing to put into our marriage.
Funny thing was, no one knew of my unhappiness. I wanted to reach out to my mother, but I was too wrapped up in my self-pride to admit to her or anyone that my life wasn’t perfect and that she had been right. So I continued the masquerade.
However, soon I began to taste the fruits of another life. I started making friends at the bank where I worked and we’d routinely meet for drinks when the office doors closed for the day. Since Bruce worked the second shift, I had nothing better to do. One drink always led to another, and before long we’d find ourselves at another bar for just one more.
I’d never really drank alcohol before. I was introduced to several varieties and I found I liked most of them, especially margaritas. Bruce knew about my new friendships and didn’t say much. As a matter of fact, he was making a few of his own, which only increased the distance between us.
My new friends were all older than me, a lot older actually, but that didn’t seem to matter. As I learned more about them, conversations revealed facts regarding their marriages. Interestingly enough, most had been divorced.
Divorce. That was not a subject I knew much about. As I pondered the realities of my new friends, I realized they seemed happy now. Maybe divorce was my answer.
Divorce doesn’t seem like a big deal. Lots of people seem to do it. I could start college and have a new beginning.
**********
It was the summer of 1978. I was nineteen years old and on the brink of making another huge life decision.
I was going to leave Bruce.
Just as quickly as I’d made up my mind to get married, I made up my mind to leave. I didn’t seek any wise counsel and I certainly didn’t pray about it. The lie I had been living would be over and I could focus on my happiness for once. However, I dreaded breaking the news to Bruce. One night I waited up for him to come home from work.
“Bruce, I made a big mistake by getting married. I’m leaving. I’m so sorry.”
My dear husband was left in complete shock that night. I blindsided him; he saw none of this coming. He was simply caught in my tangled web of selfishness and deceit.
I drove home to stay with Mother that night. She and Howard Lee were quite surprised to see me that late and knew something must be wrong. They were living in the house where I grew up, right next door to Mama Dora and those endless tobacco fields.
Mother opened the door and I heard myself say, “I’m leaving Bruce, Mother.”
She couldn’t hide her feelings. I knew the look all too well, the one that says, “I told you so.” But she didn’t say anything. She just wrapped her arms around me and told me it would be okay. I needed to hear those words.
“Why didn’t I listen to you, Mother?”
“Rhonda, we all make mistakes. You are going to have to learn from this and move on.”
I cried myself to sleep that night, even though it felt good to once again sleep in my childhood bed.
Why did life have to be so hard?
Where’s God anyway?
Doesn’t the Bible say that God will never leave you, nor forsake you?
If that’s the case, why do I feel so alone?
The sun rose the next morning, offering the warmth I needed. Mother joined me on the front porch with coffee in hand. I braced myself for the coming lecture.
“Rhonda, you are going to have to start life over with a blank slate. I think it would be a good idea to start going to Austin Peay and be with your friends in college as though this never happened.” Austin Peay was the local university in Clarksville.
“Mother, do you think it will be that e
asy?” I asked.
“Well, it will depend on the choices you make. Before you got married, you were a good girl. You will need to go back to that way of life.”
I quickly realized she was talking about having sex. “Are you telling me not to have sex with anyone?”
She said, “Yes, indeed. That’s exactly what I am saying.”
I asked her, “Would you buy a pair of shoes without trying them on?”
She spat her coffee out of her mouth. “I can’t believe you just asked me that, Rhonda!”
“Well, Mother, sex is important in marriage. I didn’t understand all that when I married Bruce.”
“Rhonda Taylor, you listen to me. God says we should never have sex outside of marriage.”
“Why would I care what God says? He hasn’t been there for me. He took Daddy from us.”
That was the end of the discussion.
I did want to start over, but I knew I was no longer the same girl who grew up in Bumpus Mills. That happy girl didn’t exist anymore.
Unless I pretended to be…
EIGHT
“…For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go…”
Joshua 1:9
I filed for divorce, and in only sixty short days I became Rhonda Taylor once again. I was surprised at how easy it was to dissolve a marriage that was supposed to last a lifetime.
My new lease on life required me to be more independent than ever before. I felt I had to prove something to myself, as well as everyone else. Therefore, I did not move back home, nor did I ask for money from Mother.
I took a job at the Social Security Administration and left the bank behind. I felt gratified after filling out the Austin Peay State University admission application and applying for grants to start classes the approaching fall semester.
My three childhood friends embraced my fresh start on life and invited me to Rush Week, when girls are introduced to the different sororities on campus before classes started.
I moved into a dorm with my new roommate and two suite mates. All three belonged to the same sorority, so of course I wanted to belong there, as well. However, there was a small problem with pledging this sisterhood. Apparently, it was against the sorority’s bylaws to allow a divorced woman to pledge. It was as though I bore the Scarlet Letter. Did I fit in anywhere? To my surprise, my lifelong friends went before the National Sorority Board and requested special permission for me to be a new pledge. The board agreed. I was the first divorced woman to be allowed in.
The parties that came along with college and sorority life removed the naivety of being a small-town girl. Guys came and went at the rate of a revolving door. My favorite hangout spot was a little pub called the Library. When I told mother that I was going to the library, I wasn’t telling a lie.
It became apparent that guys paid a great deal of attention to me as I got older. I learned that with any returned consideration, I had free drinks for the night. A couple of beers usually led to the dance floor. Regardless of where I was, when music started to play, my foot started to tap.
I had learned to dance as a child at the square dances my parents took me to. Of course, high school dances had been fun, too, but I was learning that the rhythm of my body matched the beat of the music in such a way that it became intoxicating to me. Mother would have pulled me off the floor by my ears if she had known.
**********
I worked at the Social Security Administration while continuing my college education. I found I enjoyed working. Being raised by two hardworking parents who instilled in me a solid work ethic was paying off.
One of my fellow employees, Lisa, came to me in private one day and said that her husband owned a pharmacy. “Rhonda, he is looking for an employee to work as a cashier and greet the customers. I believe you would be perfect for the job.”
“Really?” I said. “I would love that.”
Lisa’s husband, Andy, interviewed me the next day. He said, “Lisa tells me you have strong people skills.”
I replied, “I was raised by parents who taught me to treat others the way I would like to be treated.”
I got the job. After giving my two weeks’ notice at the Social Security Administration, I started work at the drugstore.
In 1980, I entered into my second year at APSU, pursuing an associate’s degree in office management. Unfortunately, all of my partying freshman year meant that my two-year degree would take three years to complete. It was time to buckle down.
It didn’t take long for the enchantment of sorority life to wane. Even though they had welcomed me with open arms, the reality was the other girls were on chapter two of their lives, while I felt I was nearing the epilogue of mine. Death, marriage, and divorce had left me riddled with questions about what I was supposed to do with my future.
My confusion only increased after receiving a phone call from Paul, my first love. “Rhonda, I was wondering if you would like to have dinner.”
I was shocked and bewildered. “Ok,” I answered.
He replied, “I will pick you up at 7:00.”
Memories flooded my mind, right alongside the sting of rejection. I wondered if it were possible to turn back the hands of time.
It was good to see Paul. I had changed much more than he in more ways than one. I was no longer the innocent young girl he had loved. We ate dinner and chatted about life in general. Soon, however, the interrogation started.
“What do you want to do with your life? What are your goals? Do you always want to live in this area?”
“I really don’t know. I’m trying to figure all that out,” I answered. “Can I have a glass of wine, please?” I tried to shock him, but he said of course, even though he didn’t join me. Drinking alone was not as much fun.
I didn’t like the line of questions coming my way, as it only made me feel worse about myself. Stupid. Is he purposely trying to make me feel as though I’m brainless?
I realized there must be a purpose for the questions, but what was it?
Dinner was over. Paul dropped me off at my apartment, leaving me feeling worthless. I suppose he needed to check a box before moving on with his own life, which was confirmed a short time later when Mother called and told me Paul was getting married.
“Their announcement picture is in the paper. This girl is the one he left you for, isn’t she?”
Thanks for the reminder, Mother.
**********
I began working an average of thirty-two hours each week at the pharmacy. Andy, the pharmacist, approached me one day, saying, “Rhonda, I think you would be great in pharmaceutical sales. You’ve got the personality, although the position might require a four-year degree. It’s worth looking into, though.”
I’d never imagined an opportunity as a salesperson would ever come my way. I had seen many of the pharmaceutical reps come in and discuss their products with Andy, but it never occurred to me that I might be able to do that job. I’m not smart enough for that. It will never happen. Why would they want to hire me?
I was filled with so many doubts about myself, I had no idea how I would ever regain my self-confidence.
In the spring of 1982, I finished my last semester with eighteen credit hours. Even though I continued to work thirty-two hours at the pharmacy, I was determined to graduate.
One day, a professor of mine called me into her office and said, “Rhonda, I just found out the CEO of Budweiser is looking for a personal assistant. I think you would be a good fit.”
“Thank you very much,” I replied.
I gave the Budweiser office a call the following week and was given an opportunity to interview. Ironically, Andy had set up an interview for me with Marion Laboratories on the very same day.
What are the chances of that happening? I wondered.
Andy and Lisa became more than just an employer and coworker. They obviously cared for me. Andy asked me every question he thought might come up in the interview and Lisa helped me choose the right outfit. I sensed they und
erstood a career with Marion Labs could change the course of my life.
I walked into the first interview with the CEO of Budweiser. It was far easier than I thought.
He said, “Rhonda, I have one final question and it’s probably the most important. Do you like beer?”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
He shook my hand and said he would be in touch. Something told me the job was mine.
I didn’t anticipate the pharmaceutical interview would be as effortless, but I was wrong. The local rep was actually in town and was asked to do a screening. We chatted and laughed as though we were old friends. He assured me as he left that I would get a call for another interview.
“Great!” I replied.
Two days later I received a call from Budweiser. “Rhonda, we would like to offer you the position of personal assistant to the CEO. Congratulations!” The woman on the other end of the phone told me the starting salary was $14,000.00 and included health insurance.
I had a gut feeling about Marion Laboratories and I knew I was taking a big risk, but I replied, “I’m so sorry, I can’t accept the job.”
“Excuse me. Did you just decline the offer?” she asked.
“Yes, I did.”
I soon wished I’d waited a few days before I told Mother I’d turned the job down. I’m pretty sure she had never yelled at me quite so loudly.
“What do you mean? Rhonda, people don’t turn down jobs that pay that kind of money!” she ranted.
Thankfully, the following week I received a call to schedule the second interview with Marion Labs. Mr. Nicol, the district manager, was from Memphis, so we agreed to meet at a local hotel the following day.
Hindsight Page 5