Lust

by Victoria Christopher Murray

  So instead, he just held me and kissed me, until I cried myself to sleep.

  31

  Tiffanie

  I awakened to darkness. Not literally, because the morning sun was already rising above the horizon and brightening our bedroom. Still, to me, it felt like midnight.

  I wanted to pull the covers over my head when the alarm sang out. But instead, I rolled out of bed. Not because I wanted to; I had to. I had to get up for church like I’d done on the hundreds of other Sundays since I’d met Damon. I had to, or else this morning would be like last night—another moment of our life that was out of order. I couldn’t allow another situation that I couldn’t explain. Another raised flag would move Damon from curious to confused and all the way to suspicious. I had to find a way to be normal, even though I was not.

  As I sat on the edge of our bed, his soft voice came over my shoulder. “Good morning.”

  I returned his morning greeting, though I didn’t turn and kiss him. Because if I did that, I would’ve had to look into his eyes. And if he looked into mine, he’d have questions. And if he asked me a question, I’d have to come up with more new lies to explain my breakdown last night.

  I rushed into the bathroom and into the shower. Under the spray of the warm water, I was grateful that I had made the effort to get up for church. Being in the house of God was what I needed. Maybe He could fix me, because surely, I was broken. Just thinking about being in church made me feel a bit of relief . . . which dissipated the moment I stepped from the shower. Damon stood right outside, waiting, with a warmed towel.

  “Thank you,” I whispered as he wrapped it around me, though my glance kept shifting so it wouldn’t meet his.

  He paused, as if he were waiting for more from me, then he kissed my forehead. My heart ached because I loved this man so much, but my betrayal kept my lips sealed.

  Inside our bedroom, I shimmied into my red sheath, keeping my eyes on the floor. I slipped into my black pumps, and as I brushed my hair back into a ponytail, I didn’t even look in the mirror, afraid to see his reflection.

  It was painful, but it worked. Damon didn’t say another word, didn’t ask a single question. From the corner of my eye, I watched him, and saw that his glance never broke away. We were so connected, I could feel him studying me like I was a science project, a dead rat under a microscope.

  In our relationship, I was always the one who took at least an hour to get dressed, wanting perfection every time I walked out the door. Today, though, I was dressed in just a bit over ten minutes and for makeup, I only brushed on a thin layer of foundation and left my eyelashes and lips naked. Then I scurried out of our bedroom before Damon had even chosen what suit to wear.

  Downstairs, after I popped two pieces of bread into the toaster and poured two glasses of orange juice, I leaned back against the counter and let my mind wander. Upstairs, it had been easy to keep my thoughts in check since all of my focus was on dodging Damon.

  But now I was free to think. And that freedom took me to yesterday.

  And Trey.

  And that feeling.

  I squeezed my legs together and blinked back tears. How many more tears could I shed? And what would crying do anyway, besides make Damon more suspicious?

  I had to keep myself together. But how? How could I do that when all I could think about was what Trey had made me feel?

  When I heard Damon’s steps on the stairs, I grabbed my iPad, sat down at the counter, opened Safari, and by the time Damon walked into the kitchen, I looked like I was scanning the Sunday papers.

  Damon stood just a few feet from me, studying me as he ate his toast in a couple of bites and drank his juice in a couple of gulps. I just waited it out until he broke our silence.

  “You ready to go?”

  I nodded and pretended that I didn’t hear the confusion, sprinkled with a bit of hurt, in his voice. I wanted to reach out and hug him, assure him that I was all right, he was all right, we were all right. But how could I give him any assurances when I felt no surety (of anything) myself?

  The best moment of the morning came when Damon held my hand as we walked into the garage and he led me to the passenger side of the Bentley. I was so grateful for his touch, though still, the sounds of silence continued. As he drove, I searched my mind for something to say, and when I couldn’t find anything, I stayed mute. I guess Damon was feeling the same way.

  I was filled with gratitude when we pulled into the church’s parking lot and Damon parked next to my grandfather in the space that had been reserved for us since we’d started coming to church together. It felt so normal when he jumped out of the car, came to my side, and opened my door.

  He held my hand again as we walked across the lot to the church. It seemed impossible that just nine days ago, I’d made this same trek up the steps to get married. And now, here I was returning and that one mistake I made had turned into two.

  As soon as we entered the church, thoughts of my personal failings as a wife were swept away in a barrage of greetings that stopped all of my thinking.

  “Welcome home, newlyweds.”

  A female usher kissed our cheeks.

  “Congratulations.”

  A deacon hugged us.

  Every few steps, we were told how good we looked together, how wonderful it was that we’d found each other, how God had been so good.

  I did my best to find my smile, but like at home, my words were missing in action, so my husband stepped up and spoke for both of us. As we walked down the center aisle, I hated that we kept getting stopped, because this aisle just reminded me of the vows that I’d taken and hadn’t been able to keep. It felt like a special kind of torture, and I found no relief until we took our seats in the second pew, right behind where my grandmother would sit. If nothing else about this morning was right, our timing was, because just as we got settled, the praise team entered the sanctuary.

  I want to praise you, forever, and ever, and ever . . .

  For all you’ve done for me . . .

  Damon and I stood, and I pushed enthusiasm into my swaying and clapping. My grandparents marched in, swaying, singing, stepping with the choir. Even though my grandmother never considered herself a preacher and never sat up on the altar, she always walked into the sanctuary with my grandfather. I was about twelve when I asked her why she did that.

  “I’m not a preacher, but I walk alongside your granddaddy because I’m his crown.”

  When I asked her what she meant, she told me to look it up in Proverbs.

  That memory brought a small smile and also tears, because I’d wanted so much for Damon and me to be like my grand­parents. It was only after I was sure that I didn’t carry my ­mother’s curse that I’d agreed to marry Damon, and I’d wanted to be his crown.

  But his crown was tilted and he didn’t even know it.

  My eyes were on my grandparents and I watched my grandfather lead my grandmother to her seat and kiss her cheek, and then, like always, he acknowledged me with a wink.

  Even though the choir was still rocking, my grandmother turned to hug me, but then she paused, and she stared. That was when I knew I should have stayed in bed this morning. Damon . . . he only had suspicions. But my grandmother? That line to God told her the truth. It was only because of where we were that she stayed silent, even as she hugged me and then turned her embrace to Damon.

  She gave me one last frown, but still spoke no words, and once again I was grateful for being in church. I gave her a smile, but it was as fake as I felt, though it was enough to get her to turn back around to face the altar.

  The music director raised her fist in the air, ending the song for the choir, but not for the worshippers, who continued their praise. Usually I stood, like everyone else in the church, raising my hands to the Lord (though I never danced in the aisles). But today I sat down and bowed my head, praying that God would
fix this, would fix me.

  When the church settled enough for the service to continue, the visitors were greeted, the announcements were made, another song was sung, and then my grandfather stood up.

  “Let the church say Amen!”

  The church did as my grandfather asked.

  “Amen,” he said. “Well, you know I have a Word from the Lord after that amazing singing.”

  More Amens rang throughout.

  “Before I begin to share the church, I want to first give thanks. We always give thanks, Amen!”

  “Amen!”

  “My thanks is personal today. I want to welcome home the second love of my life.” He winked at my grandmother. “My granddaughter and her new husband, who is now officially my grandson. Greater First AME, let us all welcome Mr. and Mrs. King home from their honeymoon.”

  The people stood and applauded as if we’d accomplished something good. While Damon stood and gave a one-eighty wave, I wanted to shrink. Of course, I should have been standing proud with my husband, but I had no strength of character, so how could I stand next to a man whose character could never be impugned?

  But when Damon took my hand and pulled me up, I was forced to do what I didn’t want to do. I stood by his side, without turning to the left or the right, just kept focused on my grandfather, because I was afraid that anyone closer would be able to see the truth in my eyes.

  Even though the applause stopped, the congregation remained on their feet as my grandfather spoke. “This young couple right there, this is a union that the Lord intended.”

  With those words, his smile, I had to look away from him, and I made my glance rise to the cross behind him.

  “For this reason,” my grandfather continued, “a man shall leave his father and his mother and be joined to his wife; and they shall become one flesh.”

  My grandmother twisted in her seat to look up at me. I kept my eyes on the cross.

  “I am proud of these two young people and I am looking forward to all the plans that God has for both of you.”

  I wasn’t sure if Damon was ready, but I couldn’t stand any longer and as the applause began and the ovation continued, I shrank back into my seat.

  It was probably just a few seconds, but hearing all the undeserved accolades and adoration made it feel so much longer. When the congregation finally sat, Damon also sat down, took my hand, and squeezed it.

  Meanwhile, I kept my eyes on the cross.

  “Now that I’ve taken care of my personal business, let’s get to God’s business. Amen!”

  Amens resounded.

  “Today, church, I come to you with this message, a message that is for everyone. The title of this message: When Temptation Comes.”

  My eyes widened, my mouth opened; I was having one of those moments—you know, when you’re sitting in church and the pastor zeroes in on your sin? The fact that the pastor was my grandfather made this moment even worse.

  “Notice that I said when and not if, because, you see, this is what I know . . . Temptation will come. Do you know how I know?”

  There were rumblings inside the sanctuary, though no one answered.

  “Because the Bible says so.” He held the book above his head. “If Jesus was tempted, what would make you think that you’ll be exempt?”

  I closed my eyes and thought about all the temptation that had come my way in just the two weeks since Trey had come to DC.

  “Over and over, we’re told to pray so that we will not fall into temptation. The Lord’s Prayer says ‘Lead us not into temptation.’ So, it’s gonna come. But what is so interesting about temptation is how we all, each one of us, will react to it.”

  I held my breath.

  “Now, I know some of you sitting in this sanctuary are saying that even if temptation came your way, you would never fall. I can hear you now. ‘Oh, that would never have happened to me. And even if it did, I would have done this or I would have done that.’ ” He paused and shook his head. “Let me tell you something. In any given situation, you don’t know what you would do until you are faced with it.”

  “Amen!” This time the chorus was louder.

  I breathed. My grandfather wasn’t talking about me.

  “Now, let me go to the other side. To those falling prey to temptation, neither should you say that this is the norm, that everyone is going through this. Here’s the thing—yes, temptation will come, but the Word of God is clear on what you should do: Resist the devil and he will flee!” His voice boomed.

  “Amen!”

  “Preach, Preacher!”

  “But here’s the thing about temptation.” He paused and lowered his voice a bit. “You have to resist it . . . first. Hear that word, first. You have to resist that devil when he first comes to you.”

  The devil. Trey Taylor.

  “You have to stop the devil before you open the door to him.”

  “Tell it!”

  “Because once you open the door and the devil walks in . . .” My grandfather didn’t finish the thought, but he didn’t have to.

  “Fighting temptation is never easy, because it’s a spiritual battle and most of us don’t know the difference. Most of us try to fight temptation with our weak flesh. But you see, you have to fight it with that willing spirit that is within you. You have to dig deep to get to that place, but it is easier to get there when you battle temptation . . . first. When you fight before the devil walks in.”

  The devil. Trey Taylor. He’d walked into the elevator at the Willard.

  “Don’t let him inside your house. Because once he’s in there . . .” There was another pause, as if my grandfather was giving everyone time to consider his words, and I remembered how I’d let Trey into the bridal suite. I’d given him the key . . .

  “Think about what happens if you let the devil in your house. Have you ever had someone come to visit and he just won’t leave?”

  There were mumbles of agreement throughout the church.

  “You’re ready to go to sleep so that you can get up for work the next day, but that person just stays and talks and talks and talks.”

  Now there was laughter, though I didn’t join in. I thought about yesterday. How Trey had come into my office and stayed, even when I asked him to leave.

  “The devil is the same way. Don’t let him in, because it will be hard to get him out. Now, he won’t stay forever! He’ll leave after he’s killed you, or stolen from you, and definitely destroyed you.”

  The congregation stood, waving their hands and Bibles.

  I wanted to stand up, too, but not to shout out praise. I wanted to scream a thousand questions at my grandfather. I’d let the devil in, what was going to happen to me? Was it too late? Would Trey destroy me?

  When Damon rose to his feet and shouted, I had a new question—would Trey destroy him?

  “This is what I can tell you,” my grandfather continued. “God is faithful and He will be right there in that fight with you. Because whether the devil is outside or whether he has wormed his way inside, he is defeated. And notice that I said he is defeated. I didn’t say he will be.”

  “Amen!”

  “You have the victory, Saints. All you have to do is claim it. It’s yours!” he shouted, and the congregation shouted back more amens.

  “God will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you can bear. And if you can bear it, you can get out of it.”

  Those were the first words of hope that I heard.

  There was a long pause and my grandfather closed his eyes for a moment. “I feel like I’m speaking to someone in this sanctuary.”

  I lowered my head, making sure that my grandfather didn’t look at me, because while my grandmother may have had a telephone line to God, my grandfather sat down in meetings with Him, I was sure of that. If given the chance, God would tell my grandfather that this
entire sermon had been preached for his harlot granddaughter.

  “All I can tell you is that God has your back.” I tilted my head and peeked at the altar. When I saw that my grandfather wasn’t looking at me, I sat a little straighter.

  He said, “God wants to provide a way out for you. All you have to do is ask Him.”

  I felt more than hope now, I felt a certainty. Because if there was one thing I’d always been taught, it was that God would do what He said He would do!

  So, once again, I lowered my head and I prayed from my heart.

  Lord, help me. I need that way out.

  Around me the service continued, but I kept my eyes closed and my heart open.

  Lord, help me. I need that way out.

  My eyes were still closed when I sent the request to God for the third time, and then I felt a knowing, a confidence that this would be solved. Still, I sat for a moment, wanting to absorb everything until I was sure of what I’d heard, and understood the plan that God had etched onto my heart. It seemed so simple, just a little different from what I’d done before my wedding. But since it had been given to me by God, I knew that it would work.

  Thank you, Lord.

  I opened my eyes and was drawn right to Damon, who was staring at me. His frown was deep, but my prayer had given me fortitude and I was the one who reached for his hand this time.

  But, though I held him, his frown remained. Even when we stood for the benediction, even as we greeted members of the congregation after the services, even as we spoke to my grandfather in his office and told him and my grandmother about Dubai, his frown stayed in place. While I amped up my gaiety to rid any concerns that my grandmother had about me, Damon was sullen, bordering on angry.

  Gram finally asked him, “Damon, are you all right?”

  He nodded, though that frown stayed like it might become his permanent expression. “I am. A little jet-lagged, I suppose.”

  “Oh, yeah, that makes sense.” Her smile was back when she said, “So y’all wanna come by the house for dinner?”