I pulled back and frowned. “You think the only way a man can leave a woman to raise children alone is by walking out on her completely? Have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying? You would come home, play with the children for a hot minute, eat, then leave. That was almost every single day of the week. I was the one here dealing with them and their homework. I was the one left taking care of them.”
“Come on, now. Let’s be real. You were always the smart one. I couldn’t have helped them with homework if I had to. You know that I barely graduated my own self. And now with all of this newfangled math and junk, I wouldn’t have been much help to the children. I would have just gotten in the way and you know it.”
“There you go again,” I said. “I’m trying to tell you. Even if you didn’t know how to do something, just being here would have made all the difference in the world. Children care about you, not always what you have and what you can do.”
He nodded. “You’re right. You’re right. I’m a jerk. I’m a failure as a parent.”
I sighed. “You’re not a failure, Zeke. Our girls love you. So that means something. It means a lot. All I’ve ever tried to get you to see is that you can always be better. I can always be better. As a couple, we can always be better.”
“You’re absolutely right.” He smiled, then nodded. The phone rang. I looked, then started toward it to answer it. “I got it,” he said, uncharacteristically rushing to beat me to it. “You go and change.”
“No, I’ll get it,” I said, really determined to answer it now. When I did, the person (a woman) said she’d dialed the wrong number.
“Who was it?” Zeke asked, something else he rarely ever did.
“A woman . . . said she must have dialed the wrong number.” I began to nod. “It was probably your girlfriend calling to see where you were.” I was actually half-teasing.
“See, there you go again. Every time we seem to be making progress, you have to go say something crazy. You know what, I’m tired of this. Maybe if you have a little time to yourself to think about all of this, you’ll stop the craziness.” He walked out of the bedroom into the hall.
I ran behind him. “Zeke, where are you going? Zeke, don’t you leave here! I mean it! I know what you’re doing! I’m not stupid, Zeke! I know what you’re doing here! You’re not leaving because of me—”
As I made my way down the stairs trying to catch him, I heard the door to the garage open, then slam. And before I could get to the garage, he had cranked his car and was backing out.
Chapter 18
Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you up.
—James 4:10
After Zeke stormed out, I walked the floor for a little while. And before I knew anything, I was on the floor on my knees, praying and crying. Not because he’d left the way he had. Not because I thought he was most likely having an affair. If he was, I was not the kind of woman that would be checking around trying to find out, that’s for sure. And it was not part of my nature to fight another woman over some man, either. Zeke knew that. I’d already told him, years ago, that if he ever wanted to be with someone else, he was always welcome to get his stuff and leave. He could go live with whomever he pleased. I’m not going to beg a man to stay with me.
But Zeke wasn’t going to do that. Zeke knew what a good woman he had in me. He wasn’t going to walk away from me. The man was just greedy. Knowing him, he would want to keep the both of us. And since I don’t really know how many women he may have been with, I can’t say how serious he’s been about anyone else, other than me. I only know how long he’s been with me.
I wasn’t going to ride around to see if I could find his car parked at someone’s house or outside an apartment building or hotel. I wasn’t going to put a tape recorder under our bed or tap the phone to record his conversations. I wasn’t going to rifle through his things trying to find out whether he had someone else or not and if someone, who that person was. I wasn’t going to do it. I wasn’t going to.
I just wasn’t.
Now my friend Shelia was totally different. She’d done all of those things and more. And even when she found proof that her husband was cheating on her, to the point where she learned her husband had fathered a child with one of his other women, she still stayed with him. Talking about “But I love him. I don’t want to live without him. I just know, if we try, we can make this work. God can heal our marriage.”
Okay. They say love covers a multitude of sins. Shelia was proving that out.
So I asked her, “What was the point in finding out he was cheating on you if you weren’t going to do anything about it?”
“I just wanted to know,” Shelia said. “I needed to know. That way I knew how to proceed.” She sighed and looked at me as though I was the enemy. “This is spiritual warfare,” she said. “The devil is trying to destroy godly marriages, and I’m not going to let him win.”
“So you’re proceeding by letting your husband stay there with you while it sounds like he’s still seeing her? I don’t get it. How is that defeating the devil?”
“Jermaine is trying to break it off with her,” Shelia said of her husband. “But that woman is a psycho!”
“Well, if she’s truly a psycho, it would seem to me that Jermaine would be running as fast as he can to get away from her.”
“He wants to get out, believe me, he does. But you know they have that child together now,” Shelia said. “You know how that can be. It’s not the child’s fault his mother is crazy and has no morals other than to sleep with another woman’s husband. And the child is such a cute little boy. You know I have four girls and you know how much Jermaine always wanted a son. I believe this is going to work. I’m praying it’s going to work. I just need you to touch and agree with me that it does.” She held out her hand for me to touch it.
I just shook my head. “Shelia, you know: sometimes there’s crazy that even a pill can’t fix.”
“I know, right?” she said with a lift in her voice, apparently not realizing I’d totally left her hand hanging out to dry.
I think she actually may have thought what I said about crazy and a pill that I was talking exclusively about Jermaine’s other woman. I didn’t even try and explain that one to her. She was my friend and I would be there when she needed me. Hel-lo!
* * *
Back to my own troubles. I was there on the floor by the couch praying. Praying helps me so much. I know a lot of people think that praying really doesn’t change things all that much. Some folks say that you pray and oftentimes the problem is still staring you in the face when you get finished. But it really does help . . . me at least. I’d calmed down greatly; a perfect peace surrounded me when I was finished.
I showered and changed into my nightgown. As I crawled into the bed, I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. It was way past Zynique’s curfew and she hadn’t come home yet. She hadn’t called, unless she’d called while I was in the shower. I checked the caller ID. Someone had called five minutes after ten. It was a blocked number. I was trying to think how I’d missed hearing the phone ring during that time. I hadn’t gotten into the shower until after midnight.
It most likely happened when I went outside right after Zeke drove away. I’d gone outside for a minute just because I couldn’t believe he’d been that blatantly bold as to walk out on me like that. Usually when we’re arguing, he stays around until I’ve exhausted my words. He had to know I wasn’t buying this coincidence theory: him trying to get out of the house, the phone ringing, a woman just happening to call the wrong number, and then he takes off—in a made-up huff of course, all because of me.
When we first got married he did that stuff, making it like it was always my fault. I did think it was my fault back then. I’d profoundly and sincerely apologize for things I didn’t even cause. Yes, he most certainly did get me in the beginning of our marriage. But with age comes wisdom, at least for some it does. When I figured out what he was doing, I was done
letting him manipulate me. He hadn’t completely stopped what he was doing; he was merely attempting to hone his craft.
* * *
Zynique and Zeke came in the house at almost the same time. Zeke pulled into the garage and Zynique came through the front door five minutes after he turned off his car. I’m certain they saw each other. They couldn’t have helped but.
I wanted to get up and confront them both. And had they arrived at separate times, I probably would have. But I didn’t want to fuss with Zynique about breaking curfew when I really wanted to let Zeke have it for walking out on me like he had. I didn’t want Zynique to have to hear me yelling at her father (as I’m sure she was tired of hearing) about what had just taken place on the night she was celebrating her monumental accomplishment.
Besides, had I said anything to Zynique, Zeke would have just taken up for her, once again painting me as the bad guy. And if I had said anything to Zeke, then Zynique would have felt justified in the assessment she’d made about me when she was twelve. “Nobody likes you! You’re mean. And I feel sorry for Daddy! You’re the reason he doesn’t ever want to be at home. It’s all because of you!”
That had really cut me to the bone, all the way to the white of the bone. Not because she was right. It was because she felt that way. She felt I was mean. That I made life so difficult that the only adult in the household, who had a right to stand up to me, couldn’t take being around me.
So I decided to leave the two of them alone. And when Zeke came into the bedroom and said that he knew I wasn’t asleep and that we should talk, I “played possum” (pretended to be asleep) and didn’t say a word.
He crawled into the bed and tried to invade my side of it. I scooted over until I was practically on the edge. When he continued to scoot in my direction, I got up and went to Zanetta’s old bedroom. Only thing: I couldn’t go to sleep. So I stared at the ceiling and once again decided to just pray.
“Lord, I need some help down here. I don’t think I can take much more of this. I don’t. Please, Lord, be a lifter of my spirits. Please . . .”
One thing about the devil is that he has a way of figuring out the weak points in our lives. Not because he’s God, who happens to be omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent. But because that crafty little devil and his little imps listen in on the words that we speak and they observe our every action. The devil can pinpoint precisely the area where we’re the most vulnerable and, most times, we’re the ones who end up letting him know just where that area is.
Well, he must have been watching and listening to me and my conversations. He definitely knew all of my weaknesses, at least at this point in the game.
And the root of it could pretty much be traced right back to my own home!
Chapter 19
The aged women likewise, that they be in behavior as becometh holiness, not false accusers, not given to much wine, teachers of good things.
—Titus 2:3
Zynique was having the time of her life working full-time with Madame Perry. In doing this, Zynique had become a blessing to Madame Perry. At least, that’s what Madame Perry told me when she came into the flower shop right before closing time to place an order for a spray of flowers.
“Your baby certainly is a blessing,” she said as soon as she cleared the doorway. A petite woman who immediately made you think of royalty when you first saw her by the sheer way in which she carried herself, Madame Perry dressed just as impeccably.
“Madame Perry,” I said with excitement in my voice as I hugged her, both shocked and surprised to see her. “How nice of you to come by!”
“I’ve been meaning to stop by your shop for the longest time, my dear.” She made a grand show of looking around, nodding her approval as she did so. “It’s unfortunate that my first foray into your place would be due to the loss of a dear, sweet friend. You do have a charming place here, quite lovely.”
“Why, thank you.” I did a quick glance of the area closest to me.
“Yes, yes. I’m sure you’ve had a time with the initial start-up. So many things pop up that you don’t plan for. At least, that was my experience. It is the nature of the beast, my dear, in owning a business. You think things are going to go one way, and before you know it, you’re thrown a curveball.” She smiled as she sat down at the table I’d set up only recently when I learned people didn’t always want to stand at the counter as they decided what they might want.
“So you say you’ve lost a friend? I’m so sorry to hear that,” I said, sitting down across from her.
“Thank you”—she patted my hand—“but no need to be sorry. My friend—Ruby was her name—lived a full life. Oh yes. Ruby certainly lived her life. And I will sorely miss her. But as she said to me when I visited her right before she transitioned to the other side, ‘We know that this is not our home. We’re merely pilgrims passing through. I’m getting ready to go back home now. I got my ticket and I’m going home.’ But still, when you reach my age, you find yourself becoming more and more alone as family and friends continue leaving you. One by one, they go.”
“Oh, but Madame Perry, the young people love you so much. They positively adore you! You’ll never be alone.”
She nodded. “Yes, I’ve been blessed with young folks surrounding me, making me feel so loved. But there’s nothing like those who understand exactly what you’re going through. That’s what I’m going to miss most about dear Ruby. We both knew the struggles it took for us to get to where we were. We didn’t forget those who are coming after us. But now, when I want to phone my friend, she’ll no longer be on the other end to take my call.” Madame Perry smiled. “That’s why I thank God for Jesus. I’ll forever have a friend on the other end. Jesus will be there with me until the end. I’m His and He’s mine. That’s what I told Zynique just the other day. That child of yours is a true blessing.”
“Well, I appreciate you for having allowed her to work with you and you sharing your knowledge with her. She loves you so much. In fact, you’re the reason she wants to open her own dance studio someday.”
“Having knowledge is great.” Madame Perry opened the book on the table that contained pictures of various sprays and floral arrangements. “But if you can’t share what you have and what you know with others, what good does it do you to keep it? It ends up being buried with you.”
“That’s true,” I said. “But from what Zynique tells me, you go beyond sharing. You’re her mentor you know. She wants to be just like you.”
“Well”—Madame Perry said as she gracefully flipped pages without ever looking at them—“I’m pouring everything I have in me into that daughter of yours. I want her to succeed beyond all expectations and imagination. But I’ll tell you, just like I told her: we don’t need another me. The idea is not for her to copy me. We need a more original of her—uniquely Zynique.” Madame Perry laughed. “That little woman is going to make me look like an amateur when she gets all of this down pat. She’s a natural-born dancer and a natural-born leader. And I truly believe she’s going to become an awesome businesswoman who’ll make us all proud one of these days. You mark my words. In fact: you can write down that I declared it on this day.” She lightly tapped the table with her index finger like she was sending a message in Morse code.
I nodded. There was definitely something special about Madame Perry. “Well, I’m just glad my baby has someone like you who’s been willing to open her heart and help her in reaching her dreams.”
Madame Perry nodded a few times, turned a few more pages, then closed the book. “Why don’t you just fix something really special for my friend?” she said. “I trust your judgment.”
“I can do that.” I then took down the information for her order, the price range she wanted, the full name of the deceased, when and to what funeral home the spray should be delivered. She stood, nodded as though she was giving me her blessing, and left.
The shop’s phone rang. It was Ethan, calling from his home number.
“What’s
wrong?” I said, hearing panic permeating throughout his voice.
“It’s my daughter!” Ethan said. “I need you to pray! Oh, my Lord in Heaven! It’s my baby girl! I need you to pray!”
Chapter 20
A double-minded man is unstable in all his ways.
—James 1:8
“What happened, Ethan? Tell me what’s going on so I’ll know what I need to be praying for,” I said.
He took a few breaths. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s okay. Now tell me what’s going on.”
“I can’t talk but a minute. But I had to call you. I know you’ve been praying for us. And I know you can get a prayer through. My daughter. . . Jacquetta is missing.”
“What? When? How?”
“Long story short: her mother was supposed to pick her up from school.”
“Your children are still in school?”
“Yes, this was their last day. They had to make up all of those snow days we had this year, so the school had to add more days at the end of the school year. Most of the children didn’t even bother going to school today, but Jacquetta wanted to go. That girl loves school. Normally, she would ride the bus home, but today she wanted to stay and help her teacher take things down and put things away, something like that. Her mother told her she would pick her up. I told Denise I would get her since I normally get off at two, but Denise insisted she would do it. Said she was taking off work early anyway today. I guess I should have asked her why she was taking off, but you know what? None of that matters now. What matters is that she told my baby girl that she would be at the school to pick her up at two, and she wasn’t.”
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