Farther Than I Meant to Go, Longer Than I Meant to Stay

by Tiffany L. Warren

  “Thanks.”

  “I guess it’s no need for me to ask for your phone number.”

  “Willie, I’m sure you’re a good man, but I don’t think I’m the one for you.”

  “Well, you haven’t even given me a chance.”

  “At this point in my life, I really don’t have much time to waste on dating. If and when God sends me a husband, I’ll know it.”

  “Lady, I hope everything works out for you, ’cause a nice car and a nice house shole can’t keep you warm at night.”

  Willie opened my car door and stood outside until I pulled off. He was right in some respects. Nice things didn’t replace having a man. On the other hand, I was not about to settle for a polyester-wearing, hair-dyeing, tired wannabe sugar daddy. It didn’t get that cold at night. And if it did, I’d buy an electric blanket.

  CHAPTER Three

  Past

  I used my key to let myself into my mother’s tiny one-bedroom apartment. I knew that it would take her forever to get to the door if I knocked. She was only sixty years old, but her ankles were weakened by all the years of carrying around excess body weight. I could hear her shuffling out of her bedroom as I opened the door.

  “Charmayne? Is that you?” she asked, sounding just like a sweet old lady.

  “Yes, Mama,” I replied.

  When Mama discovered that it was me, she let the real Claudette come out. “Well, you could knock on the door, or at least let somebody know you’re coming by.”

  I had been coming by every Tuesday since she’d been diagnosed with high blood pressure. I was eighteen when Daddy died and Mama decided that she was going to eat herself into an early grave. Her emotional eating turned into a weight problem that caused high blood pressure.

  Sometimes I look at Mama and see my own future flash before my eyes. I wondered who would take care of me when I was sixty, overweight, and sick. At least Mama had her memories of Daddy.

  I ignored Mama’s miniature rant and walked into the small but efficient eat-in kitchen. My mother always had to find something to complain about. I knew that she was happy to see me, but she never said as much. If it had been her sweet younger daughter, Dayna, she would’ve rolled out the red carpet.

  I glanced in the sink and didn’t see any used dishes. I asked, “Mama, what have you eaten today?”

  “Oh, well, I had me some leftover Kentucky Fried Chicken for breakfast. I ain’t thought about fixing lunch yet.”

  “Well, it’s after two o’clock. You sit down, and I’m going to make you a salad.”

  I heard Mama grumbling under her breath. She hated when I made her eat healthy foods. Her high blood pressure was completely out of control, but she did not let that stop her from eating whatever she wanted. The thought of her having a stroke terrified me, but it didn’t seem to faze her one bit.

  She turned on the television in her sitting room. I heard her favorite soap opera come on. I chuckled softly as I got the salad fixings out of the refrigerator. I wouldn’t let Mama fuss at me, so she was in there yelling orders at the television. Her favorite characters were hardheaded, though, just like me. They never took her advice, either.

  I finished the chef salad and topped it with French dressing—the only kind Mama would eat. I brought it along with a glass of Diet Pepsi into the living room and set it on one of her television trays. She frowned when she saw the contents of her lunch.

  “Here you go, Mama.”

  She replied grumpily, “A salad. Well, if you wanted to make me something, why can’t it be something good like a peach cobbler. I got the stuff in there.”

  “I am not making you a peach cobbler. Your doctor said you need to lose some weight.”

  “Well, ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black. Dayna would’ve made me a pie!”

  “Seeing that Dayna can’t cook worth a lick, it wouldn’t have been a very good one,” I retorted.

  “It would have been better than this old nasty salad.”

  I ignored Mama’s insult to my weight and the side comment about Dayna. She was right, though—on both counts. I did need to lose weight, and Dayna’s silly behind would’ve baked her a peach cobbler even if it would kill her. Dayna and Mama were each other’s favorite people and they enjoyed indulging each other, although since Mama had been sick, Dayna had been doing all the spoiling.

  “So I heard you had yourself a date. I see you wasn’t gone tell nobody.”

  I sighed out loud. Mama knew all my business. You would think we lived in a small farm town the way news traveled. Mama had a secret network of spies—half of them were members of my church, and the other half she met at the bingo hall.

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  “His mama plays bingo up at the lodge. That lucky heifer won last week, too. So what did you think of Willie?”

  I replied honestly. “He was a nice man.”

  “Are you seeing him again?” She truly looked hopeful.

  “No, Mama.”

  Mama sucked her false teeth and shook her head angrily. I guess she thought that Willie Brown was a good catch, and I was sure that she was going to tell me about myself. We’d had the same conversation on so many other occasions.

  She ranted, “You act like you don’t want no husband. Willie Brown is a good decent man. He would’ve taken care of you and two or three grandbabies.”

  “He wasn’t my type, Mama.” I was so tired of justifying my choices and taste in men to her.

  “And what is your type? I think your type is invisible, ’cause I ain’t seen you on nobody’s arm.”

  “Mama—”

  She continued the barrage. “I mean, all you have to do is look at your sister and see how happy she is. It ain’t natural to be thirty-six years old and ain’t never had a man!”

  I silently endured Mama’s attack. If she wasn’t harping on my weight, it was my marital status. Most days she harped on both. I knew that she just wanted me to be happy, but she never acknowledged any of my achievements, only my failures. It didn’t matter how many degrees I had, or how well my career was going. To Mama, if I didn’t have a house full of babies and a man to cook for, then I didn’t have anything.

  It didn’t help that my sister was living what Mama considered to be a perfect life. Dayna was a stay-at-home mother of three. Her husband, Ronald, was a mechanical engineer bringing home a decent paycheck. They had the traditional little family. They even had a dog.

  Of course I wanted all that. Not a day went by that I wondered if I’d ever have any children of my own. But I wasn’t going to rush into anything just to please my mama. I was going to wait until the time was right.

  “I’m waiting on the Lord to send me a husband, Mama.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “Well, I wish He’d hurry up.”

  I straightened Mama’s kitchen and made sure she had something readily available for dinner. She continued her grumbling, but I didn’t say another word to her. I knew I could never win the argument, so I decided to save my breath for another time.

  I left Mama’s house feeling dejected. I was on my way to pick up Ebony and Lynette for Lynette’s “surprise” bridal shower. She’d found out the plans a week ago when she had overheard Jonathan on the phone with his sister, Alicia. Lynette promised me that she would still act surprised.

  Ebony was running late, as usual. She hadn’t wanted to attend the function, but she was doing it so that I wouldn’t be alone. I appreciated her for that.

  When she got in the car, she asked, “Do I need a gift?”

  “Of course you need a gift! It’s a bridal shower.”

  “Well, let me put my name on yours. It’ll be from the both of us.”

  I laughed. “You are so tacky.”

  I only had to blow my horn once outside Lynette’s apartment. That was most shocking, because she was usually late for everything. I was almost 100 percent sure that her wedding would not start on time. The invitations said one o’clock, but I didn’t anticipate the event co
mmencing until three.

  Lynette practically bounced to the car. Fresh from the salon, she looked immaculate. Her brand-new hair weave was cut in layers and flipped. Lynette spent a near fortune on her hair. She’d hired the top weave expert in the city. It was Lynette’s ultimate goal to fool everyone into thinking that her purchased tresses grew naturally from her head.

  “Hey, girl!” Lynette announced cheerfully as she closed her car door.

  “Hey,” I replied.

  Lynette pursed her lips and said lifelessly, “Ebony.”

  “Lynette,” replied Ebony in an equally deadpan tone.

  I would’ve probably been laughing at my two friends had I not been feeling fat and lonely after listening to Mama’s tirade. I wanted to tell Lynette that maybe I shouldn’t have been so hasty in writing off Willie Brown. And I wanted to break down crying because I should’ve been happy that my best friend was getting married, but all I was feeling was envy.

  Lynette glanced into the backseat of my car and smiled when she saw my gift. She picked it up and shook it like a little girl trying to figure out what was hiding in a Christmas package under the tree.

  I fussed, “Stop that before you break it!”

  “So it’s something I can break, huh? Is this something kinky?”

  Ebony sighed out loud. She had no problem displaying her irritation with anything pertaining to Lynette.

  “I wouldn’t buy you something kinky. Any gift from me is going to be sanctified and holy.”

  Lynette laughed, “Of course, but the Bible says that the marriage bed is undefiled. So I say, bring on the thong panties!”

  I just shook my head, pretending to be disgusted at Lynette’s antics. I knew how much my friend was looking forward to all aspects of marriage. She missed the physical companionship of a man, and was constantly groaning about how difficult it was for her and Jonathan to maintain a chaste relationship.

  We pulled up at the downtown Marriott, and I paid to have my car valet-parked. Lynette clapped her hands and let out a little shout of glee. “The Marriott ballroom? Alicia went all-out, didn’t she?”

  I didn’t respond, because I couldn’t give an answer that wasn’t disparaging to Alicia. The fact of the matter was that Alicia hadn’t gone all-out. I was the one who’d paid for everything. Ebony, however, was aware of this fact and sighed again.

  We walked into the dimmed ballroom, and everyone jumped out and shouted, “Surprise!” In my opinion it was moronic to throw a surprise party for a grown woman, but I found myself yelling with the rest of them.

  I had a big smile on my face when everyone started taking pictures of Lynette. They had to capture her counterfeit shock and engrave it forever into a million photo albums. I even kept smiling when Alicia ran up and hugged Lynette. She put her arm around Lynette’s waist and started to pose for pictures.

  Ebony and I decided to let Alicia bask in her own glory. We walked off from the picture-taking unnoticed and found seats next to the buffet. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I saw the Buffalo wings and cocktail shrimp.

  After everyone was finished fussing over Lynette, one of the evangelists blessed the food, and the rush for the buffet began. When it was my turn, I picked up two plates for my food. Not because I was being greedy, but because there was a fruit tray at the end. I hated to have my fruit touch barbecue sauce and potato salad and whatever else was on my plate.

  I heard Alicia and another one of the bridesmaids snicker when I picked up my plates. Alicia whispered something under her breath like, “That’s a shame.” I inhaled a sharp breath and ignored them. I’d been overweight for as long as I could remember, but the mean jokes never got any easier to digest. Besides, I wasn’t the only plus-size woman in the room. Ebony also heard the joke and picked up an extra plate herself. I appreciated the gesture, even though Ebony was even thinner than Lynette.

  Ebony and I went back to our table and devoured the little finger foods that I’d paid for. When we were done, we made another trip to the buffet. Ebony was what I called a big-girl sympathizer. Even though she was a size eight, she’d make as many trips to the buffet as I did. She was a true friend indeed.

  We were cleaning out the last of the wings when we all heard the screech of a microphone. Lynette was standing in the front of the ballroom grinning from ear to ear. I had to admit that she’d never looked happier.

  “I just want to thank everyone for coming out tonight,” she said. “I can’t believe that my wedding day is almost here. I want to thank Alicia for coordinating this evening, and all of my bridesmaids for putting up with me.”

  I felt my body tense with frustration as I watched Alicia smile, nod, and take the credit for what I’d done. The other bridesmaids were sitting at a table with Alicia, and they were all applauding her.

  Lynette continued, “And to my maid of honor and best friend, Charmayne, I don’t even know what to say. You have been with me through all of my ups and downs. I love you.”

  Lynette put the microphone down and came over to the table and hugged me. There were tears in both of our eyes. All my disdain for Alicia faded into the background. My best friend had not forgotten about me.

  “You know, I know you paid for this,” she whispered in my ear.

  Alicia, not to be outdone, ran up to the front of the room and picked up the microphone.

  “Okay, ladies!” she screeched. “Enough of the sentimentality. Let’s open the gifts! Whoo!”

  Lynette opened up several small packages from Alicia first. They were all flimsy, see-through lingerie. Everyone oohed and aahed as Lynette held up the tiny slivers of fabric. Even the church mothers in attendance were whooping and hollering.

  After many more of the same type of gift, Lynette went to open up my package. After seeing what everyone else had brought, I wished I’d given Lynette my present at another time.

  Lynette said, “This gift is from Charmayne and Ebony, y’all.”

  She ripped the paper off the oversize box. When she held up my gift, a deluxe Crock-Pot, silence fell across the room. It was broken only by the cackle of Alicia’s laugh.

  “Great! She can cook beans in her lingerie,” Alicia joked.

  Ebony leaned over and whispered, “Remind me to never sign my name to one of your gifts.”

  The entire room, Lynette included, roared with laughter. I could’ve died of embarrassment. I just meant to buy her something practical. She couldn’t spend all her time in the bedroom.

  Lynette said, “That’s okay, Charmayne. I need this. Y’all ain’t never had my cooking, but Charmayne has.”

  One of Alicia’s friends whispered audibly, “I’m sure she’s never seen the inside of a Victoria’s Secret.”

  I had had all that I could take that evening. After Lynette was done opening her gifts, Ebony and I made a quiet exit. I wanted a slice of the cassata cake, but I thought if another person made a joke about me I would explode.

  I didn’t even make it to my car before the tears started burning the corners of my eyes.

  Noticing my tears, Ebony tried to console me. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “It was, and you know it was, but thank you for trying to make me feel better.”

  She continued. “Truthfully, I think you’re making too much out of this. Who cares about what Alicia and her friends say? They’re like some type of college sorority rejects! They all need to grow up.”

  “You’re right.”

  Although I agreed with Ebony, it didn’t make the tears stop flowing. Since her words weren’t bringing me any comfort, Ebony remained quiet for the rest of the ride, periodically handing me tissues.

  “It’s going to be all right, Charmayne,” she said on her way into her apartment.

  When I pulled away from Ebony’s place, the tears really started to flow and were joined by loud sobs.

  I cried out, “Jesus, please help me lose this weight! I hate being in this body, and I hate being alone. Lord, please take this food addiction away from me. You
know I can’t do it on my own. Please, Lord, send a companion who will love me for who I am, and not for what he can see.”

  My prayer was sincere. But it didn’t keep me from stopping at the Dairy Serve on the way home and ordering up a banana split. I was determined to start my diet after the wedding.

  CHAPTER Four

  Present

  “So what did you think of Rizpah?” asked Dr. King as she handed me a cup of hot tea.

  I sipped and responded, “Well, I felt sorry for her. She had already lost her husband, Saul, and then David took her sons and had them killed.”

  Dr. King nodded her head so fervently that her long, thick braids danced across her face. She brushed them back effortlessly and said, “Yes. She was definitely worthy of pity. What did you think of her reaction to her sons’ deaths?”

  “The passage says that she sat outside on a rock wearing sackcloth, chasing the predators away from the dead bodies. I thought that it was a tremendous showing of grief.”

  I remembered the passage that had moved me to tears. Rizpah had found out about her sons’ murders and desecrated bodies and she’d sat outside grieving them.

  Dr. King tilted her head to the side. “You could look at it that way. She was indeed grieving. I also thought that she showed great strength.”

  “I got that feeling, too.”

  “The verse says that she sat on that rock from the beginning of the harvest until rain fell from the heavens. Most Bible commentators agree that this was a period of at least six months. She refused to allow her sons’ bodies to be desecrated, and was quite determined in her efforts. When David heard of her courageous actions, it moved him with compassion. He went and collected Saul’s and Jonathan’s bones, and gave them along with their offspring a proper burial.”

  “So what is the point of us reading this story?” I asked, still not quite knowing what Rizpah’s dilemmas had to do with me.

  “Well, let’s examine it closely. Do you see any parallels between you and Rizpah?”

  “Let me see. Well . . . she lost everything. She was a wife of the king, and he was slain. She lost her status and her money. Then she lost her sons, who were obviously dear to her. I’ve definitely lost everything important to me.”