Forever Soul Ties

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

  “That’s some sick stuff right there,” I teased. “Now I’ll have to work the rest of the night just to get that image out of my head. You were checking out my mother? You were checking out my mother. My mother!” I laughed.

  “I wasn’t planning on moving on it,” Ethan said. “But I’m laying everything out on the table here. I don’t want you feeling like I’m keeping anything from you.”

  “Well, if you had tried to hit on my mother, my daddy would have laid you out on the table.” I laughed again.

  Ethan moved in closer. “Let’s get together . . . me and you. What do you say?”

  “I say that as your friend, I’m going to save you from yourself. Because Ethan, I know you. I know how much you love God. And I know that if you and I cross the line, you’re going to feel guilty. Then you’re going to beat yourself up. And before you know anything, you’re going to be standing before the church congregation crying your eyes out saying something like, ‘I have sinned against God and against you.’ So, I’m going to help you. I’m going to walk away from the edge, and I’m going to pull you back from the edge along with me.”

  “I won’t regret it. I’m telling you. I’ve thought about this. I still love you, and I want to be with you.”

  I started pushing him toward the front door. “Thank you very much for the cake,” I said. “And thank you for stopping by. Now you be careful on your way home and drive safely.” I unlocked the door.

  “I don’t want to go,” he said, turning and looking me in my eyes.

  “Well, you don’t have to go home, but you do have to leave here,” I said.

  He laughed, then softly tapped me on my nose. “You know: that’s what I love so much about you. You honestly and truly care about me. You really do.”

  “Yes,” I said in a serious tone. “I do.”

  “And you’re funny, too,” he said. “I love someone with a sense of humor. I love to laugh. I don’t get to laugh much these days. Everything and everybody is so serious. So thank you. And thanks for being the sunshine I need in my life, even if it’s only for a little time. You are truly a blessing.”

  “Sure.” I opened the door, gave him a shove, and watched him as he reluctantly walked away.

  And only God knew that in my heart, I, too, had already committed adultery.

  In my heart.

  Chapter 24

  Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.

  —Hebrews 4:16

  When I arrived home from the shop, no one was there. I set the cake on the counter and began to search the refrigerator for something to eat.

  As usual, Zeke had already come and gone. It was obvious he’d eaten—his dishes were exactly where he’d left them. That’s what aggravated me so much about him. He wouldn’t lift one finger to ever cook anything, not even a piece of toast. He expected me to cook, which was fine, but he would never even attempt to clean up when I finished, not ever. He wouldn’t wash a dish. Wouldn’t load the dishwasher with his dirty dishes. Wouldn’t even put the leftovers in the refrigerator. According to him, “That’s what women are for.”

  I had tried to rebel, a little earlier in our marriage when the girls were small. I decided I wasn’t going to cook or clean unless he helped me with something around the house. My not cooking or cleaning didn’t bother him one iota. And since he went somewhere practically every night anyway, he simply left earlier, claiming he was going to find him something to eat. Forget that I and his children had nothing; he was only looking out for himself. After a week of dishes piling up (somehow, he still managed to find ways and occasions to mess up a slew of dishes), I couldn’t take it any longer. I cleaned up and went back to doing what I knew wouldn’t get done if I didn’t do it.

  So when I came home from the flower shop, there, as usual, were his dishes waiting for me to load in the dishwasher. Zynique was starting to be more and more like her father: gone every night until it was time for her to come home. In fairness, she was working for Madame Perry and bringing in her own money. But she still resided under my roof and therefore, under my rules. I wasn’t having any guys spending the night (accidental or not), and she had a set time to be home. I never knew for certain whether she actually adhered to the new post-high-school-graduate agreed-upon time, since most of the time, I was out like a light when 2:00 a.m. rolled around. The shop was much busier these days (thank the Lord!), so I was worn out and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

  Still, as I loaded Zeke’s dirty dishes into the dishwasher and tried to think of something I could fix for myself to eat (since he’d eaten all I cooked and was left over from the night before), I couldn’t help but lament (at least somewhat) that I’d turned down dinner with Ethan.

  I grabbed a can of ravioli (Zynique’s food of choice) out of the cabinet and opened it. As it heated in the microwave, I looked up toward the ceiling and laughed.

  “God, now You know this is wrong, don’t You? I know You see this kitchen and me here all by myself. I’m trying to do the right thing here, but it’s not fair that it looks like I’m the one always on the wrong end of the fairness stick. But I want to thank You for grace. And I thank You for mercy right now. And I ask that You please forgive me for that small indiscretion from tonight. I really do need You right now. It’s so hard to do right when you have someone like Ethan right there in front of you. Lord, You know what I’m dealing with. I’m trying my best to resist. But I’m going to tell You the truth, Lord, not to imply that You don’t already know what’s really going on inside of me. But Ethan is a challenge for me. He is.

  “And it would help if You could speak to my husband . . . find a way to get through to him and tell him to at least meet me halfway. I know I’ve been praying this prayer for years now. And so far, nothing seems to have changed. In fact, it’s starting to look and feel like things are getting worse. Because God, at least before, I had the girls with me. Now everybody’s gone. Before, there was no one around to tempt me. Now there’s Ethan. The sad thing about this, Lord, is that I don’t want to ask You to take Ethan out of my life.” I laughed. “I don’t. I know I probably should. That’s what I should be asking You to do right now. But I don’t want to. I should be concentrating on me and my shortcomings instead of praying about Zeke and his. I should be asking You to make my heart not beat so hard when it comes to Ethan. But God, I’m being honest with You: right now, I like at least being able to talk to Ethan, even if it is only every now and then, and even if it’s only as friends.”

  The microwave beeped—letting me know that my mouth-watering gourmet dinner was ready. Yum yum. Bon Appetit!

  Chapter 25

  Well reported of for good works; if she have brought up children, if she have lodged strangers, if she have washed the saints’ feet, if she have relieved the afflicted, if she have diligently followed every good work.

  —1 Timothy 5:10

  It was the Monday before Thanksgiving. Zynique was still working for Madame Perry while putting her money away to be able to get her own place and, someday, her own dance studio. That’s why Zynique hadn’t been like a lot of her friends, most of whom had gone off to college. Zeke and I tried to convince her she should at least look at going to college while she worked. But her reasoning was that people generally went to college to obtain a career. What she wanted was to have her own studio, giving people an opportunity to experience the art of dance in the way that she had. She felt she was learning all she needed with Madame Perry while being paid.

  Zynique had even convinced Madame Perry to start a class for senior citizens. It had turned out to be a marvelous idea, one that brought even more revenue to Madame Perry’s studio and a lot of joy to a group that was excited about being able to stay in shape in this way. It was a win-win situation for everyone.

  Zeke told Zynique it had been dumb of her to give Madame Perry that idea. He felt she should have saved it for her own studio. Zynique merely
waved him off.

  “Madame Perry is a wonderful person, Daddy. She’s pouring everything she has into me. I’m glad I can do something in my own way to repay her.”

  “You are doing something,” Zeke said, turning up the bottle of soda he was drinking. “You’re working there, giving her the benefit of your knowledge and energy. Didn’t you say she had cut back on her hours, essentially putting you in charge of her entire operation?”

  “Yes,” Zynique said, almost beaming at the mention of that.

  “Well, frankly, I think the woman is a pretty smart cookie. She gets you to do most of her work while she sits back and gets to rake in the big bucks.”

  “Well, I think it’s wonderful what Madame Perry is doing for Zynique,” I said, adding my two cents. “Most folks don’t want to share the knowledge of what they know with anyone else. Especially if they know you’re doing or planning on doing what they’re already doing. They view competition as a threat. Trust me, I know. That’s why I’ve had such a hard time with my business. No one wants to help me. In fact, there are those who are trying to devise ways to pull me down.”

  “Crabs in the barrel,” Zynique said.

  I pulled back and looked at Zynique. “What do you know about crabs in a barrel?”

  She beat the table with her hands as though it was a drum. “That’s what Madame Perry calls it. She says our people especially are great about being crabs in a barrel.”

  “What does she mean ‘our people’?” Zeke said, setting his empty bottle on the counter right there at the trashcan.

  “Oh, Zeke, don’t act like you don’t know what she’s talking about,” I said, getting up and throwing his empty bottle in the trash as I gave him “the look” which didn’t mean anything to him anymore. “You have a bunch of crabs in a barrel and as soon as it looks like one is just about to make its way out, the others reach up and pull it back down with them. That’s what a lot of us do to each other. We’re all stuck in a bucket that won’t allow us to get anywhere. And when someone sees someone else about to escape, instead of the group helping that one out, which would make it easier for that one to reach back and pull others out, they all reach up and pull the one almost out back down with them.”

  “That’s exactly what Madame Perry said,” Zynique said. “I think that’s why she works so hard to help me. She says she might not have gotten out of the bucket, but if she can boost me up and over the top, maybe I can cover a lot more territory, more than she ever could.”

  “Well, personally, I believe Madame Perry just got her a good hustle going on.” Zeke was now fixing himself a bowl of strawberry ice cream. “You watch, Zynique. When you get ready to spread your wings, she’ll probably be the main one there with the clippers, ready to ground you.”

  “You don’t know Madame Perry at . . . all,” Zynique said.

  Zynique’s cell phone began to ring. It really didn’t make sense to me that she’d gotten one. I knew everyone seemed to be getting one, but I didn’t see something like cell phones achieve-ing a critical mass. Why would anyone want to pay for a phone you carry around when you have a phone already at home?

  Zynique answered her cell phone. All of sudden, she started to shake her head, crying, and yelling, “No! No! Oh God, please no!”

  “What’s wrong?” I said. “Zynique? What’s the matter?”

  She waved me to be quiet until she was finished. When she hung up, she came over and fell into my arms. “It’s Madame Perry,” she said, finding it hard to get the words out.

  “What about her?”

  “She’s at the hospital. That was her neighbor. He said she had my number posted to call in case of an emergency.”

  “Is she going to be all right?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. He didn’t know. He just said she called him and the phone suddenly went dead. He ran over there and when he got there, she was lying on the floor. He called for an ambulance and they’ve taken her to the hospital. He said she was asking for me.” Zynique placed her hand over her mouth as the tears continued to come.

  “She was asking for you?” Zeke said.

  “Mother, I have to go see her. I need to leave now. Will you drive me?” Zynique’s hands were shaking.

  “Of course I will,” I said. “Let me run and get my purse.” I turned to Zeke. “Do you want to go with us?”

  “Nah. You two go on.”

  I was hoping he would go. It would have meant so much to Zynique if he had.

  We got to the hospital and found where Madame Perry was. They had her hooked up to a breathing machine. When she saw Zynique, she tried to raise her hand but could only manage to point her index finger. Zynique rushed to her side and took her hand.

  “You’re going to be okay,” Zynique said. “You just need to rest. They’re going to get you all fixed up again. I know they are. And don’t you even think about fighting the nurses and doctors. They’re going to have you back on your feet and dancing again before you know it.”

  I looked at Madame Perry. Her eyes seemed to be pleading for me to come closer. I walked over and stood next to Zynique. Madame Perry began to move her eyes, as though she was trying to point them at the mask that covered her mouth.

  “You want them to take that off?” Zynique asked.

  Madame Perry nodded.

  “I think she wants to take that thing off,” Zynique said. “I think she wants to tell us something.”

  Madame Perry nodded again.

  “Let me find a nurse,” I said, then quickly left the room.

  Just as I made it to the nurses’ station, a patient’s alarm must have gone off because a group of them jumped up and started running. It was then that I saw them rush into Madame Perry’s room. I ran back there as well. Zynique was standing to the side now, crying. I went over to Zynique and gathered her in my arms. We stepped farther out of the way so we wouldn’t hamper any of their efforts. A doctor and three nurses were frantically working on her. I didn’t want Zynique to be there for this; I didn’t want her to have to witness what was going on. But Zynique refused to leave.

  * * *

  Madame Perry died that night and her son, the only child she had, scheduled her funeral for the Saturday after Thanksgiving, which happened to be one day after Zynique’s nineteenth birthday.

  I was working full throttle, assembling sprays and floral arrangements for the funeral.

  According to Zynique, Madame Perry had prearranged pretty much everything, so there really wasn’t a lot for her son to have to do except execute what she’d put in place. And as only Madame Perry could do it, she’d left specific instructions that all of the flowers her family would be purchasing for her home-going celebration be bought from my place of business, The Painted Lady Flower Shop.

  The dance studio was already closed for the week because of the Thanksgiving holiday. Madame Perry believed in family and that family should have time to spend and to be able to celebrate together.

  Zynique was having difficulty pulling herself together after her beloved friend and mentor’s death. I asked her to come and help me with the tons of orders I’d received. Honestly, I truly needed the additional help even though a month earlier I’d hired Mia (a lovely mother of two) to work for me part-time. Mia desperately needed the money, but she also wanted to be home when her two children got home from school. I needed a little help, but I didn’t need anyone on a full-time basis. So this arrangement worked great for both of us.

  Zynique needed something to occupy her mind. I felt she would appreciate being able to help put together the many flowers that had been ordered to pay tribute to Madame Perry.

  Madame Perry was loved by so many. It was standing room only at both the wake and the funeral. At the funeral, Zynique wanted to say something during the time where people were allowed to speak for two minutes if anyone so desired. I didn’t think it was a good idea, believing Zynique would break down as soon as she opened her mouth.

  But she ended up surprising me. Zynique stoo
d, took a deep breath, and began to tell people what an awesome person Madame Perry was and the many young women’s and girls’ lives she had changed just from them being at the dance studio and in her presence. She then proceeded to tell those in attendance something she hadn’t even voiced to me.

  “That night, right before she died, she called me to her side,” Zynique said. “My mom had just left out of the room to go find a nurse. Madame Perry wanted to say something, but she had a mask over her mouth that kept her from being able to speak where she could be heard. Well, anyway, as I said, my mom had gone to ask a nurse about taking it off for a minute to see what Madame Perry was trying to say. So Madame Perry and I were there alone.” Zynique paused for a few seconds.

  “That’s okay, baby,” an older woman yelled out from the audience. “Take your time. Take your time. We understand. We all understand.”

  Zynique smiled, and I could see her actually swallow before she began to speak again. I was praying hard for my child. She continued. “Madame Perry couldn’t speak, but she used all she had within her to lift her hand and wave it in the air. Next, she placed her hand on her heart, then, with every fiber within her, she placed her hand on my heart.” Zynique stopped again, looked up, and shook her head.

  Zynique leveled her head, nodded a few times, then scanned the audience. “I knew what Madame Perry was saying without her having to utter one word. You see, I began working for Madame Perry a few hours a day after school when I turned seventeen. She really didn’t need my help, not really; she just knew how much I wanted to do what she was doing someday. So she paid me to teach me what she knew. I didn’t get it at seventeen; I got it when I began working for her full-time at age eighteen. Madame Perry was paying me hard-earned money to teach me what she knew. That’s something to think about. So Madame Perry would drop little nuggets for me to put aside.