Instead she asked, “What sparked this new anger, Charmayne? I thought we were making a lot of progress in the opposite direction.”
“I remembered, Dr. King. I remembered breaking down, and how hopeless I felt when I was breaking that glass. It’s not fair that Travis should get away with making me feel like that. The God I serve wouldn’t allow such an injustice.”
Dr. King nodded. “I see. You want Travis to pay, and you want to be there to see it. It would be even better if you could inflict his punishment, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“And then what would you gain?”
A jaded-sounding cackle escaped my lips. “A wonderful sense of satisfaction.”
“I don’t think that will happen. As a matter of fact, I think it’s time we started talking about forgiveness.”
I retorted defensively, “I have forgiven him, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t reap what he’s sown.”
“Forgiveness is more than a word. I can tell you what you should be doing with reference to Travis, but I’m going to let God tell you. Open your Bible to Matthew five, verses forty-three through forty-five, and read them out loud.”
I opened my Bible and read.
Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy.
But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you;
That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.
I knew the verses well; in fact, I’d even used them when giving advice to one of my sisters in Christ. It was always easy for me to give counsel, but adhering to it myself was a whole other issue, especially when we were referring to a man who had ruined my life.
Dr. King said, “Look closely at verse forty-four. What are the verbs in the passage pertaining to you?”
I responded slowly, “Let’s see . . . love, bless, do good, and pray.”
“What about the verbs for your enemy?”
“Curse, hate, despitefully use, and persecute.” I felt myself getting angry just reading that list.
Dr. King said, “So you see, Charmayne, God knows you been done wrong. He wants you to forgive anyway.”
I said flatly, “I know that Jesus wants me to forgive that man.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“He doesn’t deserve it. Anyway, how can I forgive him when my life is still a wreck?”
“You’ve lost over seventy pounds, you have a rewarding career, and you’re financially independent. Where’s the wreck?”
I reflected for a moment before answering. It was true that I didn’t have exactly what I’d lost, but I couldn’t look at my life and not see restoration. Jesus had restored my confidence through the shedding of pounds, and He had given me a job that I truly looked forward to going to every day. Even the feeling of loneliness that had led me to Travis in the first place had been replaced by a newfound purpose. Yet I still wasn’t satiated. I still wanted vengeance.
“You’re right, Dr. King.”
“The last step in your healing process is forgiveness. And stop acting like you’re doing him a favor. Do it for your own freedom. The Bible says that by forgiving you become a child of your Father in heaven. Don’t you want to be a reflection of Him?”
There was only one answer to that question. Of course I wanted to reflect God’s nature in my own imperfect life. But saying a thing and doing a thing were two different matters.
I replied, “Don’t just tell me what I need to do, Dr. King, tell me how to do it.”
It was Dr. King’s turn to pause before replying. I hoped that I hadn’t stumped her, because that was not my intention. I wanted to know where to look for forgiveness in a heart turned cold against Travis. I didn’t want to be accountable to Jesus for not extending mercy to Travis. It was bad enough that he’d taken my material possessions; I didn’t want him to be the cause of my spending an eternity alienated from God.
Dr. King finally answered my question. “You can start by forgiving yourself.”
“What do you mean?” I felt myself an innocent victim; I didn’t think that I needed forgiveness.
“You haven’t truly excused yourself for choosing Travis in the first place. I guarantee that being at peace with your own choices will free you to forgive Travis.”
I considered with interest Dr. King’s theory. It was true that I was still kicking myself for getting duped by Travis. I was still telling myself that I had been stupid to believe he’d ever loved me. I still thought that there had been signs of his ill intentions, and that I’d purposely ignored them.
I’d had so many good friends warn me of my actions, especially Ebony. I remembered how sad she was when she refused to be a bridesmaid in my wedding. I knew that I should’ve listened to her and to the voice of the Lord. My disobedience had cost me so much. Forgiving myself had not entered into my mind, even though I’d asked God for forgiveness for my sin of disobedience.
Dr. King continued, “Are you still doing those affirmations?”
“I haven’t done one in a while.”
“Well, we’re going to do one right now. Repeat after me. I am beautiful, gifted, and talented.”
I stated confidently, “I am beautiful, gifted, and talented.”
“I am God’s woman, capable of great things.”
I liked what she was saying, so the words were easy to repeat. “I am God’s woman, capable of great things.”
“I have made unwise choices, but I will recover.”
“I have made unwise choices, but I will recover.”
Dr. King finished the affirmation by saying, “I have sown in tears and will reap with songs of joy.”
Tears welled up in my eyes as I stammered the words. “I-I have s-sown in tears and will r-reap with songs of joy.”
I put my head in my hands and sobbed out loud. I had said the words, but I didn’t know if I truly believed them. I felt that I’d never be whole again, and that singing songs of joy was a long way off.
I reflected on how God forgives us for sins. All we have to do is repent and we’re washed clean with His precious blood, as if the sin never happened in the first place. I was filled with peace at the thought of His love. I wanted so much to see myself as Christ did. I prayed in my spirit. Lord, help me to change my perception. Help me to see myself as your daughter.
Dr. King smoothed the hair out of my face and handed me a tissue. She sat down beside me and took both my hands in hers. Her hands were incredibly steady and secure, while mine shook uncontrollably.
“Go ahead and cry. Remember the tears of Rizpah?” I thought back to Rizpah and her season of mourning. “These are not wasted tears. They have a purpose.”
CHAPTER Thirty-one
Present
When the director of Dove’s Haven told me that she wanted to have a very important meeting with me, I instantly became nervous. The last time I’d been called into a meeting with my superiors, I’d lost my job. I didn’t know what I’d do if I was fired again. Dove’s Haven had become more than a job for me. I had become totally invested in the women I’d helped, and that investment made for many success stories.
Besides Celeste, I’d used my contacts to place six women in jobs that would do more than give them a minimum-wage paycheck. Celeste was a research analyst for a lawyer friend of mine. All of the women were in career positions that would change their lives if they wanted it. And most of them seemed to really want it.
I walked into Rhonda’s office wearing my confident face. That was another thing I liked about Dove’s Haven. Everyone was on a first-name basis with everyone else. There was a familial atmosphere that was important to some of the women who had never experienced family.
“Good afternoon, Charmayne. Have a seat.” I relaxed a little. Rhonda sounded entirely too ch
eerful to be firing anyone.
“Good afternoon.” I sat in front of Rhonda’s desk as she finished typing something on her computer.
When she finished, she turned to me and smiled. “Charmayne, I have great news, and an offer.”
“An offer?”
“Well, let me start by saying that Dove’s Haven was awarded a two-hundred-thousand-dollar grant from the Parthenon Corporation!” Rhonda exclaimed.
“They’re software distributors, right?”
“Yes. They’re giving grants to faith-based organizations that are making a difference in the community.”
“That is great news. That money will do these women a lot of good.”
Rhonda continued, “Wait. There’s more. I believe that we received that grant because I used Celeste’s story as a case study in our grant proposal.”
I nodded enthusiastically. “That was brilliant. She has a tremendous testimony.”
“And she had a tremendous mentor. I was wondering if you’d like to expand your role. We want to launch a job readiness program for the entire community, and I’d like for you to direct it.”
“I’d love to.” It was a huge undertaking, but I felt ready.
“I’m happy to hear you say that! I thought you were going to say no.”
My smile must’ve stretched from one side of my face to the other. The job offer was an answered prayer.
I replied confidently, “I just can’t wait to get started. I’m going to compile all the ideas I have and present them to you next week.”
Rhonda laughed. “I’m glad you know what to do, because I really didn’t know where to start.”
“Just leave it to me.”
After hearing the good news at Dove’s Haven, not even spending my lunch hour with Dayna was going to steal any of my joy. Actually, the lunch date was an olive branch from me to her. I didn’t want our relationship to be as strained as it was. She was the only sister I had, and I knew that one day we’d need each other.
I had chosen an informal setting for our lunch—the food court in the mall. I saw that Dayna was already in line at the Taco Shack, so I headed for the Japanese grill. I ordered chicken teriyaki with no rice and found a table with a view overlooking the Cuyahoga River. When Dayna joined me I was watching an elderly couple stroll past the boats hand in hand. I wondered if I’d have someone to share my old age with.
“What in the world is that?” asked Dayna, referring to my food.
“Chicken teriyaki. I see you got your usual mystery-meat burritos.”
She laughed. “Well, mystery meat or not, it tastes good.”
“I’ll remind you that you said that when the doctor is unclogging your arteries.”
“Oh, I forgot. You’re Miss Healthy now. How many pounds have you lost?”
“Seventy-three.”
Dayna’s eyes widened. “That’s a lot of weight. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
It was comical to me that my sister and I were doing the small-talk thing. We both knew that we were here to talk about what had happened on Christmas. It had been almost six months and we still hadn’t talked about the feelings Dayna had expressed on that day.
After a brief, uncomfortable silence, Dayna asked, “So how are you doing, Charmayne? Me and Mama are worried about you.”
“I’m getting there. It’s going to be awhile before I’m back to normal,” I replied honestly.
“So the therapy is working out?”
“It’s helping a great deal.”
Dayna nodded. “I’m glad. I don’t like to see you falling apart. You know you’re the strong one.”
It was true. I had always been the strong one in our family—the one everyone else leaned on. When our father died, Mama had fallen apart and Dayna had pretended that it was all a dream. At age eighteen I had made the funeral arrangements and taken care of insurance and outstanding debts. I had grieved behind closed doors when everyone had gone home.
When I didn’t reply, Dayna continued, “You know it’s time to start planning Mama’s birthday party.”
“It’s only June, Dayna. Her birthday’s not until September.”
“Why leave it to the last minute?”
I shrugged. “Why do we have to have a party? Why can’t we just do something as a family?”
Dayna said, “If it’s about the money, I will pay for mostly everything.”
She obviously thought I was broke. “It’s not a money thing, Dayna. I just thought that me, you, and Mama could do a spa day or something.”
“You’d actually want to spend an entire day with me and Mama?”
“Sure.”
Dayna clasped her hands together and looked intently into my face. “Charmayne, I need to say something to you and I don’t want you to interrupt. Just let me get it out.”
“Okay—”
“You’re interrupting already.”
I placed one hand over my mouth to ensure silence for Dayna’s speech.
She continued, “I’m sorry about Christmas. I don’t ever want us to fight on the holiday again. It just seems like my jealousy gets the best of me sometimes.”
“You’re jealous of me? But why, Dayna? You have it all.”
“I guess we can both look at each other’s lives and find something to envy,” she said reflectively. “But we’re sisters, and I want us to be there for each other. Please forgive me.”
“I forgive you,” I responded simply. Before I’d begun therapy with Dr. King, I would’ve tried to find something that I’d done wrong in the situation and offer my own apology. But I hadn’t done anything to apologize for, so I offered only my forgiveness.
“Was your relationship with Travis already in trouble when he didn’t show up for Christmas?” Dayna asked. I was sure that she’d been dying to ask me that question. I wondered what had taken so long.
“No, it wasn’t, not to my knowledge, but then again it was pretty much doomed from the beginning. There is much that you don’t know about the situation with Travis.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“Maybe. When I’m ready.” This response was also birthed directly out of my therapy. I didn’t owe anyone an explanation for why my marriage had broken down.
“Well, even if you never tell me all that happened, I’m still praying for you.”
I smiled warmly at my younger sibling. “That’s what sisters are for.”
CHAPTER Thirty-two
Present
Lynette and I were having a celebratory spa day in honor of my completing therapy with Dr. King. I’d had my final session at the beginning of the week, and for the most part I felt healed and delivered. Of course, the healing and delivering had come from Jesus; Dr. King was just my guide along the way.
The spa day was Lynette’s idea. She’d had to twist my arm to make me spend hundreds of dollars on pampering. No matter how much money I had in the bank, I would forever be frugal. She’d finally convinced me by reminding me how much money I’d spent buying clothes for Travis. She was right, too. If I could go on a shopping spree for a man who was robbing me blind, then I could surely afford a pedicure and a massage.
We sat in the lounge area in big fluffy robes, waiting to be called back for our massage. I sat back on a comfortable chaise and closed my eyes. For the first time ever, I’d opted for the full-body massage. I’d never gotten one before, because I was embarrassed about my body. I didn’t want anyone seeing all my rolls up close. But since I’d shed the pounds, I found myself doing a lot of things I wouldn’t normally do.
“Girl, he is checking you out,” commented Lynette.
I opened my eyes. “Who?”
“That fine dark chocolate brotha who just walked in.”
The man Lynette was referring to was indeed fine, and he did appear to be looking in our direction.
“I think he’s checking you out. Are you wearing your wedding band, you little fast-tailed heifer?” I was trying to keep from laughing out loud.
“Believe me, Charmayne, I know when a man is looking at me. Why don’t you make eye contact with the man?”
I waved my hand in dismissal of Lynette and closed my eyes again. I was in no way ready to enter the romance and dating arena. I certainly wasn’t about to try my hand at flirting. I’d heard that it was an art—an art that I had not mastered.
A few moments later I felt Lynette nudge me in the ribs. Ready to fuss at her for ruining my relaxation, I opened my eyes. Standing in front of me was the fine brotha who was formerly standing across the room.
“How are you beautiful ladies enjoying your spa day?”
I was speechless, so Lynette replied, “We are having a blast. What about yourself?”
“I’m just getting a manicure today. I’ve got a business meeting this afternoon, so I don’t have time for my usual facial.”
Lynette frowned. “Oh, that’s too bad. My friend Charmayne was just going to invite you to join us for lunch.”
My eyes widened in horror. Lynette would never change. It was her continuing mission to make sure I was happy. In her eyes, happiness meant having a man. I seriously could’ve wrung her neck.
I said, “Yes. It’s too bad. Maybe next time.”
Mr. Fine Chocolate-Brotha smiled widely, exposing his beautiful veneers. “Here’s my business card. Call me later, maybe we can have dinner.”
I reached for the card. “Perhaps.”
He looked down at his watch and was suddenly in a hurry. “I’ve really got to run.”
After the man was a safe distance away, I rolled my eyes at Lynette. She put on her innocent face.
“What?” she asked, knowing full well what she’d done.
“Don’t do that mess, especially if you’re going to hook me up with a loser.”
“What makes you think he was a loser?” she asked, her voice full of curiosity at my newfound wisdom.
I shared my observations. “First of all, the brother’s shoes were jacked up and ran over. Any man of substance wouldn’t be wearing those raggedy shoes to a business meeting. And his so-called gold watch was fake. It had already started to tarnish.”
“You saw all that in a two-minute conversation?”
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