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

by Tiffany L. Warren

  Lynette intervened, “Charmayne, you’re just nervous. Everyone is nervous on their wedding day. It’s natural. But once you make it through, you’ll be Mrs. Travis Moon. Just think of that.”

  Mrs. Travis Moon. I let the name roll off my lips. I’d never thought that I’d be Mrs. anything. I inhaled and exhaled slowly, forcing myself to let go of the worry. After a few moments I had successfully moved all my fears to the back of my mind, where they wouldn’t ruin my dream wedding.

  When we got to the church, Travis was already there along with Les, his best man, and Anna. Another brother from Travis’s church was to serve as the other groomsman, but he had not yet arrived. Dayna went ahead of me and Lynette to make sure that Travis didn’t see us when we walked into the church. I wasn’t wearing my gown yet, but I didn’t want him to see anything.

  It took the full two hours of preparation time to get me into my dress and made up. Lynette worked skillfully on me and Dayna, and then we put the finishing touches on her makeup. Anna watched quietly from the sofa in the women’s lounge.

  Dayna asked Anna, “Aren’t you going to go out into the sanctuary and make sure none of these hungry sisters is ogling your husband?”

  She laughed. “Hungry sisters are the last thing I’m worried about.”

  “See, Dayna, some women actually trust their husbands,” responded Lynette.

  I refused to get in the conversation—I had other things to hold my attention. So many thoughts were going through my mind. I wondered what the people at Travis’s church would think of me. I wondered if I’d meet Travis’s expectations.

  The time came to start the ceremony, and I only panicked a little. I’d managed to numb most of my emotions into silence. Still, Lynette came over and took both my hands in hers.

  I said, “It seems like it was just last week I was doing this same thing for you.”

  Lynette laughed. “It almost was last week, why you playin’?”

  Then we both laughed. I needed the release in tension, and was feeling almost normal when the usher came back to let us know that the ceremony was starting. Lynette and Dayna hugged me and took their places in line.

  Lynette had chosen red roses to be used in the bouquets with little sprigs of baby’s breath. The splash of color was perfect against the silver bridesmaid’s dresses and my white gown. The entire effect was festive—which was exactly the opposite of how I was feeling.

  Dayna walked out first. She deliberately took her time sashaying down the long center aisle of the church. She even stopped occasionally to smile and pose for pictures. When she got to the front of the church she leaned over and kissed Mama, who was seated in the front aisle. Mama had decided to wear an elegant winter-white suit. To accessorize she’d chosen a matching hat with a fur trim similar to my dress.

  Next was Lynette. I was barely able to let her hand go as she walked down the aisle. She tossed her new hair weave left and right and strutted as if she were on a Parisian catwalk. Jonathan made sure to stand up and nod at his wife—a symbol to all the gawking men that she was taken.

  My nieces, Erin and Koree, were dressed in miniature copies of my gown and pranced down the aisle with my nephew in the middle. Ronald Jr. looked so uncomfortable in his tiny tuxedo, but his sisters loved all the attention.

  I was so nervous when it was my turn to walk down the aisle. I couldn’t stop my hand from trembling even when my uncle Charles took it in his own. As I glided down the aisle to meet my prince, I received a standing ovation from my church family. I saw looks of joy and hope in the crowd. Joy from the ones who were glad I’d finally found a husband, and hope from the sisters like me who were patiently waiting on God to send them someone.

  Ebony sat among the guests and smiled at me as I walked down the aisle. I appreciated the fact that she’d shown up even though she thought that I would soon regret my decision. She dropped her head as I passed, and I knew that she was praying for me.

  Travis looked so beautiful to me as he reached out to take my hands in his. Coming to meet him in front of the altar was the most exhilarating moment of my life. Every other milestone and event that I could think of paled in comparison with Travis accepting me as his bride.

  Pastor and First Lady Jenkins sat on the front row, nodding their approval. Pastor Jenkins had not had the pleasure of meeting Travis’s pastor before, but he gave his silent endorsement of the ceremony. I must admit that I was so excited, I had to struggle very hard to listen to what Pastor Smith was saying.

  I took in his admonition for our marriage to be a threefold cord with Christ at its center. He urged Travis to love me unconditionally, so that my respect would come automatically. Pastor Smith then told me to respect Travis’s headship in all areas, and that if I did this I’d never have to worry about having his love. Travis held my hand tightly, visibly moved by the words. When I saw tears in his eyes, I couldn’t help but shed a few of my own.

  After the ceremony, we went to take pictures in the Cleveland Botanical Gardens. Everything had a coating of ice or frost, so we hoped that our pictures would have a fairy-tale feel to them. By this time, I was starting to feel the effects of my corset, girdle, and control-top panty hose. Beauty did not come comfortably for a big girl.

  We got to the reception, and although the food looked delicious, I was too wound up to eat—literally and figuratively. Instead Travis and I went around to all the tables thanking our guests for coming.

  I endured what could’ve been an awkward moment with Marvin Baker and his “date.” He had apparently convinced that new sister at our church that he was worth her time. On any other day, I probably would’ve felt a twinge of jealousy or even resentment, but since I was there marrying a man who was one thousand times finer than Marvin, I couldn’t do anything but be happy for him.

  Ebony took me off to the side, away from everyone else. I was curious to hear what she had to say, but I knew I’d be angry if she said anything to ruin my joy on my wedding day.

  She handed me a package. “This is my gift to you. Open it.”

  I opened the package and smiled. It was Stormie Omartian’s Power of a Praying Wife. Ebony and I embraced.

  “Thank you.”

  Ebony replied, “I may not agree with your choices, but know that I’m always praying for you. There is nothing that will happen in any of our lives that prayer can’t get us through.”

  After about two hours at the reception, Travis whispered to me that it was time for us to leave. I knew that we were on our way to the honeymoon suite at the downtown Ritz-Carlton, and I was terrified. It was the one part of the whole wedding process that was making me feel unsure.

  Even though I was a virgin, I felt odd going to my mother for advice on how to please my husband on my wedding night. I thought that I was too old not to know, and that my mother was too old to give me anything of value. I sure wasn’t going to ask my baby sister, though no doubt she could’ve schooled me well—after she got finished laughing for ten minutes.

  I had to rely solely on Lynette’s wisdom in that area. I had refused to allow her to throw me a bridal shower. I would’ve died of embarrassment opening up little packages of lingerie. Instead Lynette took me to a plus-size women’s store that carried all the frilly little see-through unmentionables that they made for thin women.

  I couldn’t bring myself to buy anything too outlandish, although Lynette tried to make me pick up a peekaboo this or an edible that. I was already scared enough; I didn’t need to wear anything that might make Travis laugh at me.

  After a great deal of encouragement from Lynette, I had packed my white full-length silk gown and robe with some alluring-smelling lotions and soaps. Lynette had also promised to turn the honeymoon suite into something out of a romance novel, so I didn’t have to worry about ambiance.

  It would seem that after all this planning for one evening, I would feel ready, but I was frightened beyond words. When I saw some of the men slapping Travis on the back on our way out and making little suggest
ive jokes, my fear heightened. What if I didn’t measure up to Travis’s expectations?

  I was silent all the way to the hotel. I kept wringing my hands and couldn’t stop my knees from shaking. Travis was humming happily to himself in the back of the limo. He kissed me on my ear and I froze.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I guess I’m just nervous.”

  Travis pulled me to him in a reassuring hug. “Don’t be. Just relax and enjoy yourself. It’s supposed to be fun.”

  Lynette had truly outdone herself with preparing the honeymoon suite. All we could do was gasp when we opened the door. There were rose petals scattered all over the bed and on the plush carpet. At least fifty candles were lit, providing soft romantic lighting and a pleasing scent. Completing the scene was a basket of chocolate-covered strawberries next to the bed.

  Travis said he would use the bathroom first so that I could take my time. I perched on the edge of the bed, waiting for my husband to finish and not quite knowing what to do with myself. It didn’t seem proper for me to turn on the television, so I sat there with my mind wandering.

  After about ten minutes, Travis emerged from the bathroom surrounded by a cloud of steam. He had not bothered to put on a bathrobe, but had a towel wrapped around his waist. Staring at his chiseled body made me feel suddenly conscious of just how unchiseled I was.

  I stood slowly and walked toward the bathroom. Travis told me that I could take my time, and I was going to do exactly that. On my way in he planted a warm kiss on my lips. I hoped that he didn’t feel me trembling.

  Sensing my fear, he said, “I don’t want you worrying about anything. Remember that I chose you, and everything about you is beautiful to me.”

  I looked into Travis’s eyes, trying to make sure that his words were sincere. All I could see in them was love and desire. I was overwhelmed but encouraged, and all I wanted to do was make Travis happy that he married me.

  I squeezed his hand and went into the bathroom, no longer afraid, but determined. When I stepped out of the bath, I refused to dissect my imperfections in the mirror. I became the breathtaking beauty that Travis said I was. When I walked out of the bathroom and into Travis’s arms, I was intoxicated with joy and I thought that nothing would ever be able to change that feeling.

  CHAPTER Twenty

  Present

  I stared blankly across my dining room table at Ebony. She was talking, and I was listening, but I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. She was trying to get me to apply for a job that she’d heard about on one of her speaking engagements.

  She explained, “It’s a mentor position at a battered women’s shelter. You would be helping the women get back on their feet by preparing them for the job market.”

  I bit my lip and thought about the opportunity. Was I ready to mentor anyone? I couldn’t even find a job for myself, but I was supposed to help women prepare for the job market? Not to mention that I was still close to being an emotional wreck. I’d just had a session with Dr. King earlier that day, and she seemed to think that I was doing better, even though I’d almost lost it that day in the grocery store. She called that a minor setback and told me not to dwell on it.

  “Is it full time?” I asked.

  “Yes, and it’s pretty good pay, too.”

  “What do you mean by pretty good pay?” I questioned suspiciously.

  “It’s starting at thirty thousand a year,” declared Ebony with enthusiasm.

  I laughed out loud. That wasn’t even a quarter of what I had been making at Grace Savings and Loan. But at the time I had no paycheck coming in at all. I thought about Travis and balled my hands into fists. How had I been stupid enough to let that man ruin everything I’d worked for?

  Ebony discerned my change in mood and continued cautiously. “So should I tell my friend that you’re interested?”

  I searched my mind for a reason to say no. When I could think of none, I tried to think of an affirmation. You are a gifted woman, and you are not defined by your paycheck. It was true, and I didn’t really need the money. Perhaps the Lord wanted to use me to touch someone’s life. Perhaps he wanted one of the women to touch my life.

  “Yes,” I replied. “Tell her that I’m more than interested.”

  Ebony clapped her hands jubilantly. She seemed happier about all this than I was. The timer on the oven went off, and I went into the kitchen to put our baked herb-crusted chicken and rice pilaf on plates.

  Ebony said as I handed her the place settings, “I’m so proud of you with this diet, girl. I’ve never seen you this dedicated. How much have you lost now? Fifty pounds?”

  I smiled. “Actually, I’ve lost about seventy.”

  “Well, congratulations. I think you’re going to really do it this time.”

  I sat down at the table across from Ebony. “I think so, too. Isn’t it strange how it took a failed marriage to get me serious about weight loss?”

  Ebony looked uncomfortable at the mention of my marriage. It still bothered her to talk about the subject. She felt an unnecessary amount of guilt for not trying harder to stop me from marrying Travis.

  “You know it’s okay to talk about marriage,” I said lightheartedly. “I’m not angry with the whole institution of marriage. Only Travis.”

  Ebony slammed an open palm on the table furiously. “I just don’t think it’s fair what he did to you, Charmayne!”

  “I used to get mad every time I thought about it myself, but Dr. King is helping me with that. Now I only get mad half the time.”

  “Well, he’s going to pay. God’s going to get him.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Of course, I knew that the Lord was not going to reward Travis for what he’d done to me. For some reason, though, that knowledge was not enough. Something in me wanted to see that man suffer a terrible demise in plain sight of all of the people he’d wronged.

  Ebony apparently knew me better than I thought she did, because the mentor position at the women’s shelter was perfect for me. I knew it was from the Lord, even during the interview process. When they hired me on the spot, I felt like screaming The famine is over at the top of my lungs!

  The shelter was called Dove’s Haven. It was actually for battered women with children. A woman with some vision who had been victimized by an abusive man had started the facility. It was a renovated apartment building with eight two-bedroom suites. My job was to assess the eight occupants’ backgrounds, education, and challenges and eventually get them all placed in career-oriented jobs.

  Each of the women at Dove’s Haven was set up in a rent-free apartment with her children. All of their physical needs were provided by the shelter. Whatever financial assistance they were receiving was placed in a savings account for them when they were ready to leave and reclaim their lives.

  What attracted me to the program was the fact that the staff at Dove’s Haven didn’t just address the physical needs of the women. They had one-on-one counseling sessions, group therapy, and an evangelist who came in once a week for Bible study and prayer. Most of the women who entered the program were in and out the doors in less than six months. Those were the success stories.

  Then there were women like Celeste. She was my first case. She’d been at Dove’s Haven for two years. She was actually from Atlanta, but was in Cleveland hiding from her drug-dealing boyfriend. Her two boys were absolutely beautiful. She had been pregnant with the younger when she’d gotten to Dove’s Haven.

  She was sitting at my desk for our second meeting. We’d talked about some of her challenges in the first meeting. From what I could tell, her biggest challenge was lack of a steady employment history. I’d given her some homework assignments that she’d taken with very little enthusiasm.

  “Celeste, did you finish the personality profile that I gave you on Monday?”

  “Yes, Ms. Ellis, but I don’t agree with what it said.”

  “You don’t agree with the conclusion?”

  Celeste
nodded. “It says I should be some kind of health care professional. I don’t want to do that. I want to work in an office, filing papers or something.”

  I had given Celeste a personality profile that was supposed to match her up with the field that would utilize her strengths and downplay her weaknesses. As generic as they seemed, I found the tests to be rather accurate.

  “Let me see the test.”

  Celeste’s responses showed her to be a nurturing individual who enjoyed working with a variety of people. Her weak areas were paying attention to detail and organization skills. She was a person who derived satisfaction from bringing joy to others.

  “Well,” I said, “your profile seems to be right on target for a health professional. You’re a nurturer.”

  “I do enough nurturing of my sons. I want to work in an office.”

  “Okay, well, do you have any office experience? Have you ever done any filing or answering phones?”

  “I don’t have any experience doing anything. I been with Jerome since I was fifteen. He took care of me,” replied Celeste flatly. I wondered if she was being difficult on purpose.

  “Well, I guess we’ll just have to start from square one.”

  Suddenly Celeste appeared distracted. “This is probably pointless. Why don’t we talk about you?”

  I was surprised that she was interested in my life. “What do you want to know about me?”

  “Why you’re always walking around with bags under your eyes. Do you sleep at all?”

  “Well, yes. But not so well.” I’d thought that my makeup covered the dark circles under my eyes, but apparently not.

  “Does your husband beat you?” she asked boldly.

  Despite her rudeness, I felt compelled to answer her questions. “I’m not married.”

  “Divorced?”

  “You are quite nosy, Celeste.”

  Her lips curled into a smile. “You know all my business. It’s only fair. So tell me. Are you divorced?”