by E. N. Joy
Mother Doreen was offended. “Well, I thought I was being serious, but obviously I should take my show on the road if it’s going to get that type of reaction.”
Margie placed her hand on her chest as she began the effort of ceasing her laughter. “Whew, oh my. Again, I apologize, Mother Doreen. But a pastor joining a Singles’ Ministry? I know your intentions are good, but I just don’t think it’s going to happen; not with this pastor anyway.” Margie, no longer laughing, shook her head firmly.
“But why not, Pastor? I mean, you’re single. What better way to show New Day how important and serious this ministry is than for the head of the house to support it?” Mother Doreen decided to pull out her ace in the hand. “You do support it, don’t you, Pastor?”
Margie stood. “Mother Doreen, now you know if I didn’t support the New Day Singles’ Ministry, then I would have never okayed its creation in the first place.”
“So you do believe it’s an important ministry to have in the church?” Mother Doreen pushed.
“Ye ... yes, I do,” Margie responded.
“And you do believe that a ministry supporting single men and women of God is a necessity in the kingdom?” Mother Doreen waited.
“Well, uh, of course, I do.”
“And you agree that the sheep follow the shepherd? So if the single members see you supporting the ministry and taking it seriously, then they’d be more apt to do the same.”
“Come on now, Mother Doreen.” Margie was on to Mother Doreen’s tactics. “I see where you’re going with this, and I get it. But in essence, are you trying to say that a pastor should be a part of every ministry that falls within the church just to set an example for the congregation? Because if you are, Mother Doreen—”
“No, Pastor,” Mother Doreen stated, cutting Margie off. “And let me apologize for the way all of this is coming out. But I just really want this ministry to work. Not only do I think that your support could give it a boost, but, Pastor, you are single. Single pastors have it hard, and not just the single male pastors. Yes, there are a lot of women out there who would love to hold the title of first lady, but don’t think for one minute there aren’t men out there who would love the title of first man.”
Margie nodded her head in agreement.
“Let the Singles’ Ministry be your covering in that area of your life, Pastor,” Mother Doreen pleaded.
Margie exhaled as she walked around from her desk and over to the sitting area in her church office. “I guess I never really looked at it that way before.”
Mother Doreen remained quiet, praying that she wouldn’t have to talk her pastor into it anymore; that if she shut up long enough, her pastor would talk herself into it.
“Look, I’ll tell you what, Mother Doreen. Let me pray on it. Like I said before, let me pray on the issue of even allowing the Singles’ Ministry to function at all. Then we’ll move forward from there.”
“Okay, Pastor.” Mother Doreen stood up with a gleam of hope in her eyes. “That’s all I’m asking. I know ultimately it’s about what God says.”
“Yes, it is,” Margie agreed.
“Alrighty then, Pastor.” Mother Doreen moved toward the door. “I better let you get back to taking care of kingdom business. I guess I’ll see you at home; that is, unless you need me to do anything around the church while I’m here.”
Margie thought for a minute. “Hmm, I can’t really think of anything off the top of my head.”
“Well, I’ll just look around; go check the ladies’ room or whatnot to see if there’s any cleaning or anything I can do, although I know Sister Nita stays on top of things like that.”
“Yes, she does, but I’m sure she’ll appreciate any help she can get. I know I always do.”
“Yes, Pastor,” Mother Doreen smiled. “See you at home.” Mother Doreen exited her pastor’s office, closing the door behind her. With her hand still on the doorknob and her back leaning up against the door, she let out a loud sigh.
“Thank you, Jesus,” she said under her breath. “Getting Pastor to even think about it was half the battle, and now I need to prepare for the other half.”
Mother Doreen began her trek through the church to see if there was anything she could do around there. She needed to keep busy, very busy. In the past, she’d kept busy by relying on the assignments she claimed were from God. No one had seen through her façade in all these years. She couldn’t risk being exposed now. Being exposed meant the skeletons of Mother Doreen’s past would come tumbling out the closet.
Pastor had once preached to the congregation, “If for once some of you would just put your own mess aside and go help somebody with theirs, you’ll be surprised to find that when you finally turn around to take care of your own mess, that it’s gone. That God took care of it for you.”
Now more than ever, Mother Doreen was hoping that was true, because she’d spent years helping folks clean up their messes. Now that it looked as though she was about to run out of other people’s messes to clean up, Mother Doreen could only pray that hers really were gone.
Chapter Seven
“It seems like just yesterday I was the one being shown getting arrested all over the television and the Internet,” Paige said to Tamarra. “Funny how things change.”
Tamarra sat next to Paige on the couch in Tamarra’s living room. Her hand rested on Paige’s shoulder for support as the two watched scenes of Blake being hauled off from his job in handcuffs.
“Malvonia’s golden boy, who not too long ago graced the cover of a national magazine for his major success in the commercial real estate market, now faces jail time,” the news anchor reported. “The details of the charges are not known to us yet, but we’ll inform our viewers as we continue our investigation.”
“I can’t believe they humiliated him by going to arrest him at his job,” Paige said, shaking her head. “They could have at least waited until he got home or something.”
“What do you care as long as they arrested his butt?” Tamarra replied. “He didn’t look any more humiliated just now than you did when I found you sitting outside of my house in the middle of the night.”
“I know, it’s just that—”
“It’s just that there is no reason for you to feel sorry for that rat bastard,” Tamarra spat, removing her hand from Paige’s shoulder. “What he did to you was awful, and he deserves to pay. Don’t go letting your emotions make you feel a certain kind of way about that man. You heard what the cops said; you are their key witness. They need you to win this thing. You have to stay strong.”
Paige was a little thrown off by Tamarra’s harsh words and her tone. She could never even remember Tamarra being this upset when she talked about things that had happened to her in her own past.
“I hear what you’re saying, Tamarra,” Paige started, “but there is one thing you have to realize. That man,” Paige pointed to the television screen although they were no longer showing footage of Blake’s arrest, “is still my husband.”
“And if you plan on having him locked up and the key thrown away, that’s where you have to change your mind-set. He stopped being your husband when he started hurting you. He stopped being your husband when he started abusing you.” A tear now trickled from Tamarra’s eye. “He stopped being your brother when he raped you!”
Paige stared at her best friend who seemed to be on the verge of going into a fit. But it was at that moment—the moment when Tamarra said the word brother instead of husband—that Paige knew what was going on. It was then that Paige realized that Tamarra’s anger wasn’t just toward Blake. It was the anger she wished she would have shown for her brother all those years ago. She wished she had told someone what he was doing to her, pressed charges, and sent her brother to jail. That way, it would have prevented other little girls from being raped by him. But she didn’t.
Momentary silence lingered before either woman said anything. Finally, Tamarra was the first to speak. “I’m sorry, Paige,” she apologized. �
��For a minute there, I almost forgot that this wasn’t about me; that it’s about you.” She stood, embarrassed, as she looked down at the floor. “I know you’re probably wondering if I’ve truly forgiven my brother because of the anger you just heard me ejecting. Well, I have. I’ve even forgiven myself for the most part. But now having to deal with this same thing with my best friend ... This is crazy. I just don’t understand why ... why so many women have the common denominator of having been assaulted, be it physically, sexually, or mentally. That’s not something I ever wanted my best friend and me to have in common.”
“And that’s not a statistic I ever wanted to be a part of either,” Paige said.
Tamarra wiped the stain of the lone tear from her face. “Hey, look, we’re not going to sit here and have a pity party.” Tamarra walked over and turned off the television. “Let’s go over to your house and pack up your things while we know Blake isn’t going to be there. Then afterward, let’s go to the Golden Coral Buffet. Looks like you need to eat.”
Paige looked down at her figure. “Yeah. My size fourteens are even starting to get loose. All this stress.”
“And I should have known something was wrong then when I noticed you losing all that weight. I just thought it was because you’d changed your eating habits in order to keep your diabetes under control.”
“Well, at first, that is why I started dropping weight. Then Blake’s and my marriage relationship just started getting out of control to the point where I was always worried that he might snap. I could hardly eat, always feeling so nervous and scared.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s one of the reasons why my parents couldn’t tell I was pregnant at first. Instead of gaining weight, I was losing it, because I was so nervous and scared about what they would say once they found out I was pregnant.”
“Well, I’m not going to hurt my body by not taking care of it,” Paige declared. “Not eating at all is no way to keep my diabetes under control.” She stood. “So let’s go to my house, then grab something to eat like you suggested.”
“Sounds good to me. Let me go grab you a couple of my suitcases just in case we need them.” Tamarra headed toward her basement, where she kept her luggage.
“Oh, no. I don’t think that will be necessary,” Paige stopped her. “I don’t plan on getting everything. Just enough stuff to tide me over for a couple of days before I ...” Her words trailed off.
“Before you what?” Tamarra pressed.
“Nothing. Come on. Let’s just go.” She looked around for her purse that had her house keys in it.
“No. Go ahead and finish what you were about to say,” Tamarra urged, but Paige remained silent, looking around for her purse as a distraction. “So you really don’t have any intentions on leaving him, do you? Not for good anyway. You were about to say, ‘... Before I go back home,’ weren’t you?”
That’s exactly what Paige was going to say. She didn’t even know why she was going to say it. Immediately after the assault, before leaving the hospital, Paige was adamant about not wanting to stay married to Blake, but now, those feelings weren’t so concrete anymore. “Look, Tamarra, I’m just confused right now. This is all like one bad dream. It’s absolutely surreal. My husband raped me. How crazy does that sound? Well, that’s how crazy I feel. Yes, what Blake did was awful, but I know in time I have to forgive him, the same way you ultimately had to forgive your brother.”
“Yeah, but that took time. I didn’t forgive him overnight like you are trying to do with Blake, literally.”
“Okay, then, so how much time should I take?” Paige asked sarcastically.
Tamarra threw her hands up. “I don’t know. But even then, just because you forgive him doesn’t mean you have to go back to living with him. How could you possibly want to stay married to a man who did that to you?”
Paige wasn’t sure, but she thought the look she saw in Tamarra’s eyes was one of disgust. She looked down in shame as she began to have second thoughts about this entire ordeal. If her best friend was looking at her with disgust, then how would the rest of the world look at her?
She buried her face in her hands as she began to weep. Tamarra quickly walked over to her friend and embraced her.
“I’m so sorry.” Tamarra was apologizing again for the second time in the last five minutes. “I’m just so angry that this happened to you, and I don’t want to see it happen to you again. And on top of everything else ...” Tamarra paused as she became choked up. “I’m the one who set you up with him. If I had never set you up with the likes of Blake Dickenson, then none of this would have ever happened.” Tamarra looked at Paige with an intense look in her eyes. “I got you into this, and now I’m going to help get you out, if it’s the last thing I do.”
Paige was glad to have the support of her best friend. She thought having Tamarra by her side would make this entire ordeal easier. Little did she know, things were about to get more difficult than she could have ever imagined.
Chapter Eight
“So Ms. Eleanor tripped like that?” Unique questioned Lorain after Lorain had shared with her that she’d told Eleanor about Unique’s baby.
“Yes, she did,” Lorain confirmed. “She was not feeling it.”
Unique sucked her teeth. “My family ain’t even trip-pin’ about it,” Unique told Lorain as she sat on Lorain’s bed Indian-style. “Now at first, when they thought I had run off and got myself pregnant again, I was all kinds of hussies and fake Christians. The minute I lied and told them I was carrying a woman’s child for her, I was a saint. Even my own momma had looked at me cross-eyed, like I was some kind of ho or something.” Unique let out a harrumph. “If that wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black with her five different kids with five different daddies ... and that don’t even include me, the child she bootlegged adopted.”
Unique’s mind went back to when she’d been abandoned by her foster parents. She thought about how they’d left her with their neighbor and never came back for her. They’d decided they wanted to pick up and move to another state, but they didn’t want to take Unique with them. What they did still want, though, was the check they received. It wasn’t a welfare check. It was a check they received as a foster care stipend. Figuring something was better than nothing, that’s when the woman who ended up raising Unique came into play. The foster parents talked her into keeping Unique and helping them out with the scheme, and in return, she got to keep half of the check. Figuring something was better than nothing as well, she agreed.
The foster couple moved away without forwarding their mail initially. Their neighbor got their mail and forwarded it to them every couple of weeks, minus the foster care check.
The system was either too stupid or didn’t care enough about Unique to realize that the woman who raised her and was cashing the state checks being sent to care for Unique wasn’t even the woman who they’d originally placed Unique with. Before moving away, the foster mother had allowed her neighbor to use her birth certificate and Social Security card in order to go get a picture ID with her face on it. That certainly made cashing the checks easy, not that the corner stores cared much about ID. All they cared about was getting the fee they charged to cash the checks. Unique herself thought that the scheme was brilliant that her foster mother and the woman she now refers to as “Mommy” had cooked up just to keep the checks coming.
The foster parents and the woman who raised Unique lived in a duplex. It was one of those double family homes where two families shared the same building. That made it easy for them to trick the new caseworker—when she came to check out things—into thinking somehow the system had the wrong address for where little Unique was staying.
Unique’s new Mommy had intercepted the visiting caseworker on the porch, telling her she was going to the wrong address, that it was her place she needed to be at. With the building being a duplex, this made it seem more believable. Then, of course, Unique’s new Mommy complained about how she’d called and asked them to correct it s
everal times. And how her neighbor had even gotten her check and brought it over to her a couple of times. The new caseworker hardly asked any questions, penciling in what she thought was the correct address with a promise to correct it in the system for certain when she returned to the office. Caseworkers seemed to change every other month anyway, which made the scheme even easier to pull off. Cases got transferred; files got lost; and unfortunately, sometimes so did kids.
But out of everything, what Unique really thought about was how, even though Unique was absolutely no blood relation to the woman she called “Mommy,” she’d followed in so many of her footsteps. Just like the woman she called “Mommy,” Unique had ended up having multiple babies with multiple baby daddies. And even now, just like the woman she called “Mommy,” she found herself caught up in a scheme of her own, with her biological mother, no less. And now, just like her biological mother, she found herself pregnant with a child she couldn’t take care of. She was pregnant with a child she wouldn’t raise as her own. Life couldn’t possess much more irony than that, Unique thought.
“Not that it matters what people say anyway,” Lorain said as she sat Indian-style across from Unique, giving her a Mary Kay make-over. “But at least you don’t have to worry about folks thinking those bad things about you; not as long as they think you’re doing a good deed and carrying a baby for me.”
“People are still going to talk, even people up in New Day,” Unique decided. “The men don’t say too much, but you know how diva some of them New Day women are. Some of them think they are perfect and have lived life without ever making any mistakes; without ever doing anything they regretted or felt ashamed about.” Unique looked down and rubbed her protruding belly that had been growing for the last four months.
“Look up at me,” Lorain said as she pulled Unique’s face up by her chin with one hand, and held a bottle of mascara in the other.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Unique apologized. She’d gotten so caught up in the conversation that she’d forgotten Lorain was applying makeup to her face. She hoped she hadn’t messed her up. Unique held her head tilted upward and closed her eyes.