Pam came back out of the room and closed the door. Robin couldn't help but notice that she looked at least five years older than she had when she went in.
"That?” Pam said as she nodded toward Kristina’s room. “That’s what she’s trying to hide from when she’s using. And if we can’t figure out a way to help her, she’s gonna keep going until she’s six feet under."
Robin went to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. The moment she was out of earshot, Tamia folded her arms and looked at Pam. “If she’s going to help Kristina, she needs to know what happened.”
Pam exhaled. “I agree. But it’s not something Kristina talks about, so how do you propose we make that happen?”
Tamia raised her eyebrows. “Duh. You tell her.”
"It's Kristina's story to tell." Pam walked away, but Tamia wasn’t giving up.
"But she’s not telling it. And where has that gotten her? Nearly dead on the floor of a public restroom." Tamia grabbed her sister’s arm and forced her to give her attention. "I always follow your lead. I never give you a hard time and I respect you as the head of our family, but if you don't tell her, I will."
Robin returned from the kitchen, a steaming mug in hand. She stopped when she saw the looks Pam and Tamia were giving each other. “I get the feeling I just interrupted something. Do you want me to give you two a minute?”
Tamia stared at Pam. Pam rubbed her face with her hands and dropped back onto the couch. She sighed.
“No. In fact, we’d like to talk to you about Kristina.”
Robin sat. “About what just happened?”
Tamia nodded and took a seat beside Robin. “But to really explain it, we have to go back to the beginning.” She looked at Pam. “To when we first met Omar.”
Pam sat still for a few moments, a grimace on her face. But then, she began to tell the story.
Chapter 8
"Our mother used to give music lessons—voice, organ, piano. She was hard on all her students. Not as hard as she was on us, of course. But still, she was tough. She wasn’t the type to give any sort of praise or encouragement.
“She certainly never had any favorites. That is, until she started teaching Omar. I believe his last name was Williams. For some reason, she took to him in a way she never did with any of the others. Maybe it was because he was so talented.” Pam smiled at the memory. “My Lord, that boy could play the organ. She loved him so much, she would invite him to stay for dinner after each lesson.
“We could hardly believe it because she never had people over. Ever. No school friends, church members or even family. But especially not a handsome, teenage boy.
“We were grateful though, because the nights when Omar was there, she was on her best behavior. I mean, we actually had conversations. Real conversations about things other than head voice or vibrato or whatever other vocal technique she felt we needed to work on.”
Pam looked down at the floor, a grave expression marking her face. “But you know how it is, you get two good-looking teenagers in the same room, laughing and talking, eventually sparks are gonna fly.
“Turned out Omar was a couple of grades ahead of Kristina at the same school. So they started hanging out together between classes. It was an innocent flirtation. At least, that's what me and Tamia thought. Mama watched us like a hawk so I don't even know how it happened, but Kristina ended up pregnant.”
Robin straightened up. Her mind went back to their first day at the hotel, when she asked them why none of them had children. It was the question that caused Kristina to abruptly leave the room and end the session.
“If your mother was willing to lock you in a box over something like getting a low grade in school, I can’t even imagine how she reacted to that news.”
“Kristina could,” Pam said. “That’s why she hid it for so long. Even from the two of us. Didn’t say a word. But we slept in the same room, changed clothes in front of each other, so when she started showing, we noticed.
“We managed to get our hands on a small girdle and would help her into it each morning and help her out of it each night. But she was getting bigger every day. We were all terrified of what would happen when we couldn't hide it anymore.
“Omar, wanting to protect Kristina, suggested they run away. He had it all planned out. But even Kristina knew a pregnant sixteen-year-old and her seventeen-year-old boyfriend weren’t going to get very far without any help. And help was the one thing we didn’t have. So we all just waited.”
Pam laughed. "It was like sitting on death row. Constant fear of the inevitable." Her face darkened. "There were nights…” She closed her eyes and pressed her hands against her cheeks. “I’d beg God. I'd ask Him to let her miscarry. To make it so mama never found out.”
The two women waited in silence as Pam tried to regain her composure. After a few moments, she wiped the tears from her eyes and continued. “But, of course, she did. I don't even know how it happened, but I can remember what happened as if it were yesterday. I was in the bedroom, studying for some big history test I had the next morning…" She looked over at Tamia.
"Me and Kristina were doing our homework at the kitchen table,” Tamia said. “Mama was getting started on dinner. Fried chicken and mashed potatoes. She had just put the cast-iron skillet on the burner when she told Kristina to get down the oil. She was the only one tall enough to reach into that cabinet. Still, she always had to get up on her tiptoes and stretch. But that time, when she reached up, the dress pulled tight over her middle."
Tamia swallowed. "It happened so fast, but at the same time, it was like it happened in slow motion. Kristina's arm was coming down, the oil in her hand, and mama had this look on her face. Like she'd never seen Kristina before. She hissed, ‘You nasty little…’
“She reached for the skillet and swung it in Kristina's direction. Kristina covered her head with her arms and turned away, but it landed hard on her forearms and neck, knocking her against the door of the refrigerator and down to the floor.
“Kristina made this sound, like a gasping noise. I guess it was from the wind being knocked out of her when she fell. She was trying to get air, but couldn’t. I kept thinking, she’s dying, my sister is dying.
“I ran to her, but mama got there before I did. She kicked her, over and over, as hard as she could. In the neck, in the head, in the back.” Tamia’s voice caught in her throat. “I just knew she was gonna kill her. I couldn’t let her do that. So I picked up the knife she’d taken out to cut the potatoes.
“I raised it, but she saw me out the corner of her eye and turned to look at me.” Tamia shook her head and raised her shoulders. “I froze. She was beating my sister to death and I froze.”
“That’s about the time I came in.” Pam said, still looking at Tamia. “I heard screaming and all this noise, so I ran down the hall. But when I turned the corner into the kitchen, it was completely silent. The two of them staring at each other. Mama said, ‘Put it down’. The second Tamia did, mama backhanded her so hard, she knocked her to the ground. Then she grabbed Kristina by the collar and pulled her along the floor.
“After dragging her down the stairs, mama poured rock salt all across the basement’s concrete flooring. She made Kristina kneel on it, arms stretched out like Jesus on the cross. She had to stay like that and beg Him to forgive her. If her arms started to drop, mama caned her across the shoulders and back with her so-called ‘rod of correction’, the handle she’d taken off the broom.
“After what seemed like forever, I was finally able to convince her to go upstairs. I told her I’d make her some tea and give her a foot massage. But she was too worked up to even wait for the water to boil. From the kitchen, we could all hear Kristina downstairs, moaning and making choking sounds.
“It aggravated mama so much, I thought she’d head back down for round two. But instead, she told the two of us to go get Kristina and take her to our room. She said she couldn’t stand to look at any of us any longer, much less, hear us.
&nbs
p; “We woke in the middle of the night to Kristina crying out in pain. She was delirious and kept saying she was thirsty, so Tamia sneaked out of the bedroom to get her a glass of water. She was sweating so bad, her pillowcase was soaked through. I dried her face and changed her pillowcase while Tamia tried to get her to drink. She did, then said she didn't feel good and threw up.
“We took off the covers to clean her and change the blankets, but when we pulled them back, we found the sheets and mattress drenched in blood. Kristina, too. Everything. Her nightgown, her underwear, her legs. We panicked. I mean, we were eleven and seventeen. We had no idea what to do.
“The first and only thought that came to my mind was, we needed to hide it. We needed to hide it all before mama found out.
“Every time I think about it, I have to thank God. I know He must've been watching over us. I don't doubt for a minute that Kristina could've died that night.
“As fast as possible, Tamia and I pulled off the sheets and wrapped up the blankets. I helped Kristina out of her clothes, got her a tee-shirt and clean underwear and told her to change while we finished cleaning.
“But when she leaned over to put them on, a pain hit her and she tumbled forward against the dresser. That put us in a cold panic because of all the noise it made. Both the dresser knocking against the wall and the lamp crashing to the floor, not to mention her crying out in pain. We helped her to the bottom bunk, trying to quiet her in the process.
“She kept saying she was hurting, that she needed to push. We were terrified. We kept telling her, ‘No, no, Kristina. You can't have it. Not now.’” Pam shook her head. “Can you imagine? We were too young and stupid to even know that you couldn't stop a baby from coming.”
“I told Tamia to sneak upstairs and call Omar to see if he could bring his dad’s car. We figured we'd sneak around back and he could take her to the emergency room. But before Tamia got out the door, I called her back.
“The baby's head was out, but the face didn't look right. The skin was gray and its little eyes were open, but there was no life in them. She kept pushing and pushing until the baby was completely out and lying on the blood soaked sheets.
“We waited. For what, we weren't even sure, but we at least knew it should've made a noise or moved or something. But he didn’t move. Not even his chest. Kristina started sobbing. We tried to cover her mouth to keep her quiet, but it was too late. Just moments later, we heard mama coming down the hallway, slapping the belt against the palm of her hand. She used to do that just before she used it on us.
“She barreled through the door but then stopped cold when she saw the bed. She was just as speechless as we were. The only sound in the room was Kristina’s quiet cries and her mumbling the same words over and over. ‘He's not breathing. He's not breathing. He's not breathing’.
“Mama gritted her teeth and left the room without saying a word. When she returned, she had a shoebox. A shoebox and a towel.” Pam squeezed her eyes shut.
“She picked up the baby and wrapped it in the towel. That's when Kristina completely lost it. She grabbed mama's arm and tried to take it back. Mama smacked her, but it wasn’t enough to stop Kristina. She kept pleading to keep it. Asking her not to take it away. Mama told us we needed to shut her up before she really gave us something to cry about.
“We got in the bed with Kristina. One of us on either side. I turned her head into my chest and used my hands to cover her eyes so she didn't see when mama put the small bundle in the shoebox and covered it with the lid. She walked to the door and told us that she wanted the mess cleaned up before she got back.
“And that was that. We never talked about it again after that night.”
Tamia sighed. “Not even when the nightmares started.”
Pam nodded. “She'd wake up screaming like it just happened. And one of us would rock her until she had calmed down. And then when she woke up, we’d all pretend it never happened. For close to twenty years now. Before concerts, after award shows. On private jets, in the back of tour buses. It got to the point she dreaded going to sleep. It wore her out.”
“The only thing that stopped the dreams were the drugs,” Tamia said.
“And that's what scares me.” Pam's voice broke. "She can't live with this thing eating at her, not if the drugs are the only way she can have any peace"
Robin reached out and put her hands on Pam's knees. "They're not the only way. Jesus is called the Prince of Peace for a reason. And I know from personal experience, He can do what drugs can't."
Chapter 9
Once Tamia and Pam left the hotel suite to pick up takeout from across the street, Robin went outside and sat on the balcony. Although winter was her least favorite season, the chilly breeze was what she needed to clear her troubled mind.
I need Your grace, Father. I need Your direction.
The thought of the stillborn baby kept crowding out all others, no matter what she did. She bit her bottom lip and rubbed her hand over her chest, hoping to massage the ache away. It was always there, something she’d learned to live with. But there were times, times like this, that the heartache refused to be ignored.
But she couldn’t give in to it. She’d learned that lesson long ago. It was like quicksand, waiting to pull her under. And once it had her, it was the fight of her life to try to get back on solid ground.
What was done, was done. There was no going back. She could only trust God now. She could only have faith that He would, indeed, give her beauty for ashes.
Robin was so lost in her own thoughts and memories; she didn't hear Tamia open the sliding door and join her on the balcony.
"Are you okay?"
Robin wiped at her eyes and waved her hand through the air. "Oh, I'm just thinking about all that you girls have been through. Especially your sister, losing her baby…" She let her voice trail off before the emotion in her throat could rise up and betray her.
Tamia sat in the chair opposite her. "Do you have kids?"
Robin stared out across the Dallas cityscape for so long; Tamia assumed she had chosen not to answer. Then, finally, Robin shook her head no.
Tamia saw the tears begin to well up in Robin’s eyes again but didn't want to embarrass her, so she looked away. She couldn't help but wonder if Robin had a story of her own. But she didn't ask. They’d had enough heartbreak for one day. So instead, she just sat with her as they watched the sun paint the sky a brilliant, fiery orange and slip beneath the horizon.
Robin went to her bedroom and shut the door behind her. She’d spent at least an hour out on the balcony trying to figure out how to help Kristina and all she managed to do was get weighed down by the regrets in her past. She knew that wasn't going to be any help to anyone, herself included.
But she also knew that what she couldn't do, God could.
There was no way she could understand what was going on in Kristina’s heart and mind. There was no way she could figure out on her own what to say or do that would make a difference. Only one Person could.
She sat on her bed and took her Bible off her nightstand and opened it to 1 Corinthians 2:10.
"Father, I know that the Spirit searches all things, even the deep things of God. And if He knows that, He knows the heart of Kristina and how to speak to it. In Proverbs, it's written that You hold the heart of the king in Your hand and turn it any way You will. I'm asking You to turn her heart toward You, Father. I'm asking You to do the very thing You sent Jesus here to do. To heal the brokenhearted and set the captive free."
Robin continued to pray and before long, she was worshiping and thanking God for what she knew in her heart was already done. But then, she heard loud talking coming from the living room. At first, she figured someone had turned the television on.
She looked at her bedside clock. She thought she'd been praying for about fifteen minutes, but the digital display showed it was more like an hour and forty.
The talking became shouting and she immediately recognized the voice as Kristina’s. I
n between the yelling, she heard another, much quieter voice. She figured it was Pam. Though Robin couldn't make out all the words, it was obvious Kristina was upset and Pam was trying to calm her.
Her first instinct was to go and find out what was the problem. But before doing so, she became still and listened. The moment she felt the release to do so, she went to the living room.
"I don't care!" Kristina was agitated and roaming the space like a feral cat. "You had no right to say anything! I told you I'd stay for you two. But I wanted to be left alone!"
"We've been leaving you alone for years and what good did it do you? You overdosed, Kristina! You could've died!" Though she tried to control it, Pam's volume had reached the level of Kristina's.
"And so what if I had died? Maybe I should have!" Kristina clenched her fists at her sides. The desperation in her voice was almost too much for Robin to take.
"Don't say that, Kristina." Until she spoke, Robin hadn't even noticed Tamia, tucked into one corner of the couch, tears streaming down her face.
Kristina wept, as well. "You gave me your word!" Kristina beat her open hand against her own chest. "What I do with my life, live or die, is my choice. And you promised you would leave me alone. And now here you are, going behind my back, telling my business and trying to use my private life to manipulate me into doing what you want me to do!”
“All we want you to do is live! All we want you to do is be happy!” Tamia said as she stood and came closer.
“I. Can’t. Be. Happy!” Kristina slammed the fist of one hand into the palm of the other as she emphasized each word. “Everything that could’ve made me happy is gone. I don’t have anything left.”
She dropped her hands at her sides. “Y'all don't understand. I'm tired. Ever since we was kids, it's been one bad thing after another. And if going to that house today did anything, it convinced me once and for all that I've had enough. Stop trying to save me."
He Restores My Soul (The Langston Family Saga Book 1) Page 5