I Can Do Better All By Myself

by E. N. Joy

  Not too long ago, those words would have cut Paige like a knife. Sadly to say though, she was immune to Blake’s personality shifts now. “Well, if I remember correctly, you didn’t have any problems with me being fat and stupid before.”

  “Then that just goes to show how good of a memory you have. Because as I recall, it took me forever and a day just to stomach seeing you naked, let alone making love to you.”

  That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Paige, with a raised open hand, went charging at Blake. He quickly wrapped his hand around her wrist and fought off any blow she might have intended on swinging his way. Then he grabbed the other wrist just in case.

  “Come on, sweetie. You don’t want to do this,” Blake said as he began kissing Paige’s neck. “You don’t want to hurt me. Not after all we’ve been through. Not after all I’ve given up for you. Besides, if you hit me, then I’d have to take a restraining order out on you. You’ll be the one being charged with assault and end up back in jail... again. You don’t want that now do you, honey?”

  “Let me go! Get off of me,” were the orders that seethed through Paige’s teeth. “You’ve given up nothing for me.”

  “Are you serious? I’ve given up my life savings pretty much, just so I could sweep that ridiculous lawsuit under the rug and move on with our lives together. I did that for us, not for me. And now, here we go with another legal issue. This one brought on by you.”

  “This is not my fault!” Paige screamed, still struggling to free herself from Blake. “What you did to me is not my fault.” She finally loosed her hands free from him. “Go away! Go now before I call the police and you’ll be doing the perp walk on live television again.”

  “So this is how we’re gonna do this, huh?”

  “You’re darned right,” Paige said, pounding her fist on the top of her car as she shot out an explicit, “You crazy son of a—”

  “Yeah, I probably would agree to that last statement. But that just goes to say that I married someone just like my mother.”

  “Please,” Paige spat in rage. “You don’t even know your mother.” Then she sarcastically said, “Oh, yeah, that’s right. You think Barnita is your mother.” Paige let out a wicked laugh. “I forgot. She didn’t let you in on her little secret, or should I say, her little scam, to take you for everything you had.”

  Paige had Blake’s attention now more than ever. It was as if her words had shrunk him down to size. She hated to admit it, but she loved the feeling of superiority she had over him at that moment. She decided to run with it. “Yeah, you heard me right. Barnita isn’t even your real mother. You turned over your life savings to a woman who only deserved about a quarter of what you gave her, if that.” Paige put her hands on her hips, leaned into Blake, and said, “Now who’s the stupid one?”

  She didn’t even have time to blink before his hands were gripped around her throat. She felt as though her eyes were going to pop out of their sockets. She tried to plead with Blake to let her go using her eyes, because no words could escape her throat.

  “You knew all of this?” he shouted in rage as veins popped from his forehead. “You let me sign my life away, and you knew all of this? Who else knew? Oh, I bet you and Tamarra are over there laughing it up. I’m sure I’m the butt of every joke. Well, while you and Tamarra are over there playing comedians, did she tell you the one about the best friend who slept with the other best friend’s husband?”

  Paige’s eyes bucked out even further.

  “Yeah, I thought so,” he snickered. “Well, ha-ha. I guess the joke’s on you now.” And with that, he released Paige. She fell to the ground. She was still gasping for air when she heard Blake’s tires peel off.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Two weeks had gone by, and Eleanor still refused to take any of Lorain’s calls. Lorain had driven over to Eleanor’s house earlier in the day unannounced, but Eleanor had refused to answer the door. Lorain would have used her spare key to let herself inside, but the screens were locked. Fearing that something might be wrong inside, she had called the police to have them come over and check things out.

  When they arrived, Eleanor didn’t hesitate to respond to their knock on the door. Lorain watched the police chat briefly with her mother. She stood in the driveway by her car, waiting for the police to come back with their report.

  “Ma’am, your mother is fine,” the police officer assured Lorain after talking with Eleanor. “She says she just doesn’t want to be bothered ... by you.” The officer acted as if he hated to relay those words to Lorain. “And, uh, she also said that she’d like for you to stop calling her and coming by. And to tell you the truth, I did have to be honest with her and let her know her rights as a citizen.”

  “Her rights?” Lorain questioned.

  “Yes, that if you continue to do these things after you’ve been instructed not to, she can charge you with harassment.”

  Lorain looked over the policemen’s shoulders at Eleanor, who was still standing in the door, watching the long arm of the law pass on instructions to her daughter. She didn’t think for one minute her mother would go that far.

  “Your mother also says that she wants you off of her property... now. She says if you refuse to leave, she’ll press assault charges on you from an incident that happened the other day ...” The officer’s words trailed off. He looked at Lorain knowingly.

  Lorain felt like a fool. Her mother had told this man their family business. Second, Lorain had just told herself that her mother would never go as far as pressing harassment charges against her. Now Lorain was reminded that she’d gone as far as smacking her own mother in the face. Things could go further than anyone ever meant for them to.

  “You should probably leave now, Miss,” the officer suggested to a confused and emotional Lorain.

  Lorain didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know if she should just pull off and leave, or if she should insist that she and her mother work this thing out.

  “Ma’am, you should leave now.” The officer made the decision for her.

  “Yes, sir.” Lorain looked over her shoulder again at Eleanor. “As long as she’s okay. I just wanted to make sure that she was okay.”

  “She’s just fine. Oh, and she says you have spare keys to her house. She’d like them back.”

  Okay, now Miss Eleanor has gone too far is the thought that popped up into Lorain’s head. The taking of keys was too final; like in a relationship where the couple have been living together. There is something about making the other person give the keys back that is a sign that there is no chance in the world that they will ever have a relationship again; not the kind of relationship they once had anyway. Lorain wasn’t about to let that happen.

  “No, I won’t give the keys back,” Lorain shouted. Without thinking, she began walking toward her mother’s home. “Mama, this has gone too far for far too long. You get out here and talk to me now.”

  “See? See what I mean, Officer,” Eleanor began to say in a panic as Lorain continued her strut toward her.

  “Oh, cut out the drama, Mother. We need to talk. And I’m going to keep calling and keep coming by until we settle things and get back to normal. As a matter of fact, I don’t care what you or these officers say. I’m not going anywhere until you come out here and talk to me right now!”

  It all sounded good at the time, and Lorain had meant every word. She had no intention of leaving Eleanor’s home, but a few minutes later she did. Not on her own accord though. She was escorted, in handcuffs, down to the county jail.

  “Watson!” a guard called out to the holding cell that Lorain shared with three other women at the time.

  The guard’s voice rattled Lorain’s thoughts back from the incident earlier that day to the present. “Yes, that’s me.” Lorain stood and walked over to the bars.

  “Let’s go. You’ve made bail.”

  The guard couldn’t let her out quickly enough as Lorain exited the holding cell and was processed out. “Than
k you so much, Pastor,” Lorain said as she was free at last.

  Margie stood from the seat she’d been waiting in for Lorain to be released. “What on God’s green earth is going on?” She looked so confused, hurt, and disappointed. This was the third one of her congregation members that had been jailed in the past few months; Paige and Blake being the other ones. “I mean, really, what’s going on with the saints of New Day? Should we just start holding Sunday services at the jail? I mean, this is not what the church had in mind with the inception of a prison ministry.”

  “I’m sorry, Pastor. I can’t make any excuses. There is no mistake. I deserved to be here,” Lorain confessed, and on the ride to get her car from Eleanor’s driveway, Lorain confessed everything else that had gone on between her and her mother.

  By the time they arrived at Eleanor’s house, Lorain was in tears, crying out for help. She wanted help from the pastor, help from God, help from anyone who was willing to give it. If someone asked Lorain, let her tell it, her mini stint in jail wasn’t long enough. She’d struck her mother; the ultimate no-no. Then she had the nerve to show out in her mama’s driveway after she’d refused to see her.

  “Now just calm down and get yourself together, Sister Lorain,” Margie instructed as she rubbed her hand down Lorain’s back. “God hears your cries. He’s pleased that, according to His word, you have acknowledged your transgressions.”

  “That’s in Psalm 51,” Lorain recalled.

  “Yes, that is correct. Psalm 51 verse three,” Margie confirmed.

  Lorain continued breaking down the scripture. “... that thou mightest be justified when thou speakest, and be clear when thou judgest.’” She paused and looked up at the sky. “Lord, whatever punishment you see fit for my transgressions, even if it’s more time in jail, I deserve and receive your judgment in this matter, God,” Lorain confessed. She continued shedding tears for a couple more minutes before she calmed down.

  “Are you going to be okay for the night?” Margie asked. “Are you okay to drive?”

  “Yes, Pastor, I’m fine,” Lorain assured her as she wiped the wetness from her eyes and face with her hands.

  “Here ...” Margie opened her glove box and pulled out a napkin. She handed it to Lorain.

  “Thank you.” Lorain accepted the napkin and wiped her face dry. “I better get going before she looks out the window and calls the police again. Then we both might end up in jail.”

  Margie smiled at Lorain’s attempt to make light of the situation. “Why don’t you come to the church tomorrow, during your lunch hour or something, so we can talk, and pray,” Margie suggested.

  “Yes, thank you, Pastor,” Lorain agreed as she opened up the car door. “And again, thank you for bailing me out. I’ll bring the money I owe you with me tomorrow.” Lorain got out of the car. Before closing the door she said, “I know this pretty much goes without saying, but I’d appreciate it if no one found out about this incident.”

  “Of course.” Margie had a strange look on her face. It was an expression that tried to cover up the one that lay beneath—one of offense. Why would Lorain say that to her? In all her years of pastoring, no one had ever had to just come out and ask her to keep their business under wraps. They’d always just expected that of her as a pastor, and they’d received what they’d expected. So what was changing now?

  As Lorain went and got in her car and drove off, Margie sat in her car still trying to figure out why Lorain had made such a request of her; then it hit her. She thought back to the scene in the church kitchen where both Lorain and Unique had insinuated that Margie was the one who must have leaked the information about Unique being Lorain’s daughter.

  “The devil is a liar,” was all Margie had to say about that as she pulled off and returned home.

  Perhaps the devil was a liar. Then how would that explain why the members of New Day truths were starting to get put on full blast? Maybe Satan was getting credit for something he had nothing to do with... nothing to do with at all.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “Just call him,” Bethany spat through the phone receiver. “Quit calling me to find out if I’ve seen him or talked to him and just call the man himself. Hold on. I’ve got his number just in case you’ve lost it or something.”

  “No, no. No need for you to go and do all that. I’m not calling that man,” Mother Doreen replied as she sat in her room on the edge of the bed, talking to Bethany on the phone.

  “Oh, so now he’s ‘that man’?” Bethany let out a harrumph.

  “Look, I don’t know why I even called you.”

  “The same reason why you’ve called me every day for the past two weeks,” Bethany said. “To pick me for information about your could-have-been husband.”

  As much as Mother Doreen wanted to tell her baby sister that she was wrong—dead wrong—that wasn’t the case. Bethany could not have been more right. Ever since that day Pastor Frey had showed up at her pastor’s house two weeks ago proclaiming his intentions to make Mother Doreen his wife, Mother Doreen couldn’t stop thinking about the man. She couldn’t stop missing him and thinking about what could have and should have been had she not initially acted so stubborn. But once again, her stubbornness had run off another man. But she knew she couldn’t make the same mistake twice, unlike the mistake she’d made with her deceased husband. She knew in her heart of hearts that she had to let this one go. Going after him could prove to be just as deadly as the last time she went after her man.

  Shaking past thoughts from her head, Mother Doreen decided to end the call with Bethany. She also decided that the only reason she’d be calling her sister again was to check up on her and her family. No more calls about Pastor Frey and his disappearing act. Mother Doreen had to be honest with herself, though. She had to admit that the day he’d shown up at the house, after her talk with her pastor, she’d been all set to go into that kitchen and not only join Pastor Frey for dinner after all, but to let him know that there was nothing more she’d rather do than join him in holy matrimony.

  She’d honestly felt with everything in her being that God was leading her to do just that. But when she arrived in the kitchen to see Pastor Frey’s chair empty, her heart dropped. Then she thought that perhaps he’d just gone to the bathroom or something, but that hadn’t been the case either. Neither was he waiting in the living room for her. Mother Doreen raced over to the window. She looked out of it to find that his car was gone. He was gone.

  “Guess I got my signals crossed again on this one, God,” Mother Doreen told herself as she exited her bedroom. “Now what?” And just like that, the answer to her “now what?” came to her. She grabbed her purse and keys, turned down the pot roast she’d been cooking in the Crock-Pot, and then left speedily, headed toward her destination.

  Twenty minutes or so later, Mother Doreen arrived at New Day Temple of Faith. There were several cars parked outside in the parking lot. That’s when it dawned on her that noon prayer was taking place. Looking down at her watch, however, she observed that it was a quarter after one o’clock, which meant noon prayer should have been over, considering it was scheduled to be only an hour long. Mother Doreen knew as well as the next saint that the Holy Spirit didn’t care anything about someone’s time frame. When He was moving, He didn’t expect for man to cut Him off. That was one of the reasons why Pastor had removed clocks from New Day’s sanctuary. She didn’t want people to get caught up in time. After all, the folks at the casinos never seemed to worry too much about time.

  Entering the church, Mother Doreen could hear soft talking. Assuming prayer was still in session, she decided to wait in the foyer for a bit; then she realized that she should just go ahead and join the prayer warriors already in tune with the Lord. Creeping inside the sanctuary, Mother Doreen noticed that those in the sanctuary were all sitting up front and they were talking among each other. Prayer was clearly over and a few people had decided to hang around and perhaps do some catching up.

  Walking closer,
Mother Doreen was about to greet her fellow churchgoers when she heard her name. That slowed her pace. Then she heard the words “jail,” “murder,” and “felon.” That made Mother Doreen not only stop in her tracks, but let out a gasp.

  Hearing a deep exhale behind them, several of the parishioners immediately looked in the direction from which it came. The looks on their faces to see Mother Doreen, the topic of their discussion, standing right behind them was priceless.

  “Oh, Mother Doreen,” the church secretary stood and spoke nervously. “Good afternoon.”

  What Mother Doreen shot back was no greeting. It was a penetrating glare and the words, “And in God’s house, no less.” Her eyes met each person’s in the room. “Each and every one of you should be ashamed. Gossiping and backbiting. I guess saints are getting bolder and bolder these days. So much so that they can’t even wait until they at least get in the parking lot to start allowing their tongues to do evil.” No one said a word, so Mother Doreen kept the words coming. “I just hope since you were all sitting here talking about me, that you at least prayed for me too.” On that note, she turned and exited the sanctuary.

  “Mother Doreen, I didn’t know you were coming up for prayer today.”

  Mother Doreen extended the same glare she’d just extended to her church mates to her pastor, who now stood in front of her. “I bet you didn’t, Pastor. Otherwise, your opening remarks wouldn’t have been about me and my past.” Mother Doreen was so hurt. She felt as though a knife had been deeply stabbed in her back by her pastor. “And just to think that I defended you when Sisters Lorain and Unique tried to accuse you of telling their business. Looks like I owe those two ladies an apology.”

  “Mother Doreen, what are you talking about?” Margie placed a hand to her forehead that housed a confused mind.

  “I’m talking about what all of them were talking about in there.” Mother Doreen pointed to the sanctuary. “They were talking about me, Pastor.” Mother Doreen’s eyes watered. “I trusted in you when I told you those things about my past. I confided in you as my pastor. I never thought in a million years you’d tell someone. I know you are a pastor, and that you are a woman first. I know you need someone to confide in. I understand that some of our burdens may weigh you down at times and you need to release. On top of that, I know how women are—”