Forever Soul Ties

by Vanessa Davis Griggs

  “And what is it that you women want? Why don’t you school me?” He took my hand.

  “Okay, class is in session. We want to be held. We want to be made to feel like you want us. Not want just our bodies, but us.” I placed my hand over my heart. “We want to feel like it’s not about what you can get from us, but what you can give.”

  “Oh, believe me, there’s a whole lot I want to give you right now.” He started swinging my hand. “You have no idea.” He shook his head as he grinned.

  I playfully hit at him. “Would you stop that? You’re just being mannish now.”

  “Ooh, haven’t heard that word since . . . middle school?”

  “Ethan, we can’t play this dangerously close to the line.” I shook my head. “We can’t. I can’t.”

  “You still love me, don’t you? Don’t you?” Ethan said. “Come on. Say it. Tell me you love me.”

  “Ethan—”

  He grabbed me around my waist and began to dance with me around the room. “Tell me you love me and I’ll let you go.”

  “You need to stop this. I’m not playing with you. I’m telling you: this is a dangerous game we’re playing.”

  “Tell me you love me and I’ll let you go.”

  “If I say it, can we go home?”

  “If that’s what you want. I’d just like for you to tell the truth.”

  “Okay! I love you!” I said. “I love you. Now let me go.” I pulled away.

  He released me and became quiet. I looked at him as he stared at me in a way I had honestly never seen him ever do before. He then started to clean up the rest of the stuff off the table, even being kind enough not to throw the fishy-smelling things in my trash in the shop.

  He walked to the door when everything was done, still not having said a word. I was starting to become concerned. Had I said something that cut him too deep? Had I hurt his feelings? What?

  I turned the shop’s alarm on and locked the door. Ethan carried the trash as though he was going to put it in his car. I wanted to tell him bye, but I didn’t know what was going on with him. Maybe it was best this way—just cut things off before we ended up doing something we would both regret.

  I opened my car door as I watched Ethan. Having spotted the outdoor trash bin, he went and put the trash in there. He was on his way back to his car. But instead of stopping and getting in his car, he walked over to me as I’d continued to stand there watching him.

  “You want to know the truth?” he said. “The truth is: I love you.” He said it with such sincerity. “I honestly and truly never stopped loving you.” He kissed me on my cheek, turned around, and left me standing there without looking back. He got in his car and sat there. I got in mine. He waited until I pulled off, then followed me as I drove away, staying close, but far enough, behind me. When I came upon my exit to my house, I turned on my blinkers. Ethan turned on his. I was starting to get a little nervous, thinking he might possibly be following me home. I exited; he kept going straight. I breathed a sigh of relief.

  I arrived home around ten o’clock. As usual, no one was there—leaving me alone yet again to contemplate and to try and make sense of what had ended up being quite an eventful day.

  Quite eventful.

  Chapter 30

  Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.

  —James 5:16

  I wanted to talk to someone about what was going on with me, specifically between me and Ethan. But that was easier said than done. One: I didn’t want to give any of my friends an occasion to judge me. And two: my two best friends were too much like refrigerators gone bad—they couldn’t keep nothing!

  Several of my friends have told me something like this. But I’ve never really had anything quite like this to happen with me before. Sure, men have hit on me. I’ve even had stints of being impressed with a few guys who have caused me to jokingly say aloud (along with both Shelia and

  Kelly), “Now I could get with that!”

  Shelia and Kelly knew I was merely kidding (even if I knew that they absolutely weren’t). Anyone who really knew me knew I’d never act on anything like that. So those times with me running my mouth were essentially harmless.

  But this situation with Ethan was totally different.

  This had me moving toward doing something I knew I shouldn’t, with a man who was not my husband. It didn’t matter that I’d known Ethan long before I ever met Zeke. It didn’t matter that I’d loved Ethan back when I wasn’t even sure I knew what love was.

  And now, he was telling me that he’d never stopped loving me. He had professed his love for me. And there was no one I could discuss this with. No one. It was so frustrating. In all honesty, I should have been able to talk to my pastor about this. But he would have loved having something like this to hold over my head. Pastor Hutchings had tried many times himself to kiss me. There was no way I would confess to him that another man had not only tried, but succeeded, where he’d failed. That would have merely communicated to him that he just needed to be more persistent . . . possibly try harder.

  Nope. My pastor was definitely out, as was his wife who suffered from her own case of diarrhea of the mouth. I didn’t feel I needed to talk to a psychiatrist since there was nothing fundamentally mentally unstable about cheating. Well, maybe unstable isn’t the best choice of words. Let’s just say people have been cheating since the days of the Old Testament.

  I categorically couldn’t tell my mother. She’d likely pull out her bottle of oil and start anointing me and anything else within my immediate vicinity. My three sisters saw me as the responsible one of the family. Definitely couldn’t tell any of them.

  And my brother?

  Well . . . let’s just say he would have affectionately slapped me on my back, congratulated me, and said, “Welcome to the club! It’s about [insert a curse word here] time.” As quiet as it’s been kept, I know for a fact that two of my three sisters and my only brother all have cheated on their spouses at one time or another. They’ll deny it, but I know the truth.

  My sisters had good reasons. One sister was married to a stone fool (fool is used biblically here: he used to say there was no God) who didn’t deserve a wife. He treated her so badly. Another sister’s husband was sleeping with pretty much anything that wore a skirt, breathed, and would let him. She cheated on him to let him know that he wasn’t the only one who could garner attention in their house. Her husband straightened up for a few months before he went right back to his old ways. That sister eventually got tired and left him, only to return six months later. My baby sister has never married. She has commitment issues. Sharon has a good man (a really good man) she’s been with for some ten years, but she refuses to settle down. “It’s just not in my nature to commit myself forever . . . to tie myself forever to one person . . . one soul,” she told me. “Nope. That’s not me.”

  Then there’s Baby Brother, a straight-up dog (my sincere apologies to dogs). That’s pretty much all I need to say about him. My mother used to tell him he was like a dog chasing a car. “Should the dog catch it, he doesn’t have a clue what to do with it,” Mother said. Still, Baby Brother loves the chase. And those women slow enough or who stopped long enough for him to catch them? Sure, he’d stay with them for a few months before he was right back out there, running and barking at the next good-looking, two-legged “vehicle” passing his way.

  So as much as I would have loved to talk about . . . confess all that had taken place between me and Ethan over this past year and four months, I didn’t have anyone I honestly felt comfortable enough to tell. I couldn’t tell a soul he’d bought me flowers. I couldn’t tell how he and I had kissed on more than one occasion. I couldn’t tell how he made me feel like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes upon, even though I was much, much older than when he and I first met. I couldn’t tell how he’d magically created the most romantic night I’d had (ever, hon
estly) practically out of nothing when he set that table with candles and flowers and we laughed and ate some of the best seafood on this side of Heaven. I couldn’t tell anyone he’d just told me that he loved me.

  There was no one I could tell what was causing me to smile for what seemed like no reason whatsoever. How butterflies were setting up residence in my stomach, fluttering around whenever I saw Ethan or heard his voice.

  There was no one I could talk to or tell any of this . . . except for Ethan. And from everything I’d gotten from him, it was the same with him. At this point, the only real confidantes either of us seemed to have . . . were each other.

  Chapter 31

  That ye be not slothful, but followers of them who through faith and patience inherit the promises.

  —Hebrews 6:12

  The next morning I got up earlier than normal and went to the shop. I wanted to change some things around to make the place more appealing (at least that’s what I told myself when I got up that early). The truth was: I didn’t want to be bothered with Zeke. The more I thought about things, the more I was starting to resent the way Zeke treated me. Why did he have to leave me by myself almost every single night? Why didn’t he and I go anywhere fun together? Why didn’t we go on trips together like other families or merely now as a loving couple?

  I’ve never even been on a cruise. As inexpensive as they are these days to take three-, four-, or even seven-day cruises to places like the Bahamas, I’ve never gone. All of my friends have. Even my mother has been on a cruise, my Medicare-card-carrying seventy-one-year-old mother. The last time she went was two years ago, she and five of her gray-haired slash wig-wearing friends: the fearsome six, I call them. She’d invited me (more out of sympathy, I believe, than that she really wanted me to hang with them). But in full disclosure: I didn’t want my first experience on a cruise to be with a bunch of elderly women who probably got giddy and excited over the mention of shuffleboard.

  The fact is: both time and life were passing me by. And all I really had to show for my participation was picture calendars I saved each year and a houseful of stuff that, when I’m dead and gone, will most likely end up in an estate sale, the trash, or, mercifully, donated to folks who come by in trucks and pick up items for charity.

  Yes, I’d had children and they were and still are the loves of my life. But children are supposed to leave you and go on to live their own lives, hopefully with the love of their lives. You can’t hold on to your children forever (although maybe someone should tell my mother that . . . namely when it comes to my baby brother).

  When I arrived at the shop, I couldn’t help but smile a little as I replayed the events with Ethan from the night before. I wasn’t sure exactly where things were going with us. He’d made it clear that he wasn’t planning on divorcing his wife any time soon (after that initial breakdown I was able to help him through). He wanted to be there until at least his youngest child graduated high school. So as for anything seriously developing between the two of us, even if it did happen, we were looking at about nine years down the road.

  The phone rang. It was my home number. I hurriedly answered it, wondering who was calling.

  “You need to get home right now!” Zeke yelled before I could get my “hello” out good.

  “What’s wrong? What’s going on?” I asked.

  “You just need to get here as quickly as you can.”

  “Are you okay? Tell me what’s going on.”

  “It’s your youngest child.”

  My heart skipped a beat then seemed to stop. “What’s wrong? Is Zynique all right?” I hadn’t even thought about checking on Zynique before I left. I was in too big of a hurry to get out of the house before Zeke woke up. But her car was there. I thought for a moment. Yes, I’d seen her car parked in its usual spot.

  “Physically, she’s fine. But I think she’s lost her mind!” Zeke said. My heart began its normal beating again.

  “Zeke, calm down and tell me what’s going on.” I didn’t see a reason for me to come home just because he and Zynique were at it again.

  Zeke can be a little over the top when he wants to be, mainly because he never has to deal with anything at the house. The home and the children were always my responsibility. When any of the children were fighting? “You need to handle those children of yours.” They ask him a question. “Where’s your mother? Go ask your mother.” They need money for something. “Go get it from your mother.” They need a little love and attention from their father. “Where’s your mother? Go get a hug from her; she’s the hugger of the family.” When it’s time for someone to discipline any one of them? “Go tell your mother what you did. Go on now! Go tell your mother.”

  So when Zynique and Zeke were at it for whatever reason this morning, the first thing he instinctively did was bring it to me.

  “All I can tell you is that you need to find your way back to this house and handle this child of yours. I don’t have time for this!” Zeke said it so loud I had to pull the receiver away from my ear.

  “So when do you think you’re ever going to have time for this?” I said.

  “Listen, you need to quit all this talking and make your way back home. Because if this child says one more smart word to me, I’m not going to be responsible if I go off on her.”

  “Okay, Zeke. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

  “Don’t be saying that and it be an hour before you drive up. I have stuff to do.”

  “As do I,” I said.

  “Well, this is my day off and I don’t plan on spending it with some child snipping back at me. And on top of that: you left without making me breakfast. I don’t know what’s wrong with both of y’all. It must be PMS or something. Y’all are both acting crazy.”

  “Zeke, I think you need to dial it back a notch. Because just like you’re not in the mood, I’m not in the mood. Now, I’ll be home as soon as I can.” I hung up and shook my head. My redecorating ideas would have to wait.

  When I stepped inside of the house, Zynique was in the den saying something to her father while she was crying.

  “Hey! Hey!” I said. “What’s going on here?”

  “I should have known he would call you,” Zynique said. “He can’t ever handle anything by himself.”

  “All right now. I done told you,” Zeke said. “You’d better watch your mouth.”

  “And if I don’t, what are you going to do?” She stared at her father, shutting down her crying voice completely. “What are you going to do? What, Dad?”

  Zeke looked at me. “You see what I told you. The girl done lost her mind. You’d better help her get a handle on herself.”

  “And if Mother doesn’t, then what are you going to do?” Zynique asked. “Huh?”

  Zeke looked at me as though he was saying I needed to hurry up and take control of this. I merely matched his look, thinking of the many times I had handled things like this when he should have. Was there any wonder the girls thought I was the mean one of us two? He always let me do all the dirty work. Well, not this time. This was his fight. I was going to stand back and let him handle it today.

  Zeke turned his full attention toward me. “Are you going to just stand there and let this child disrespect me like this?”

  I was determined that all I was going to do was be a fair and just referee. If one of them truly went out of bounds, I would call them on it. So far, I hadn’t seen that. Zynique was talking to her father about something. He didn’t want to deal with it, so he thought he was going to put it off on me. Normally, I would have taken it, but not this time. Not today.

  “Woman, are you listening to me?” Zeke said, raising his voice at me.

  “Yes, Daddy; she can hear you. But maybe she’s telling you to stand up for yourself for a change. Maybe Mother is tired of fighting alone all the time. Have you ever thought about her and what she feels? Do you ever consider her feelings when you’re doing things?”

  He turned to Zynique. “Yes, ma’am, I do c
onsider your mother’s feelings,” he said before turning back to me. “Don’t I, baby?”

  I didn’t say a word.

  “Daddy, why don’t you leave Mother out of this? You were the one who came and woke me up out of my sleep talking about get up and fix you some breakfast.”

  “And you were the one who got smart and asked me what was wrong with my two hands.”

  “That’s right. I’m not Mom. I’m not your maid. My job is not to cook for you or clean up after you,” Zynique said with her hand on her hip.

  “And that’s why you’re not going to end up with a man. You’re going to have to live here with us because ain’t no man out there going to want some lazy woman who refuses to do her womanly job.”

  I almost burst into a laugh when he said that. Is that what he thinks when it comes to me? That I’d better do that to keep a man? It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad.

  “Daddy, let me straighten you out before you go out in public and say some of this male chauvinist junk to somebody else who just might tell you off in a way you’ve obviously not been told off before.”

  “I’ve been told off plenty times before.” Zeke then looked at me. “So you’re actually going to just stand there and let your daughter talk to me this way?”

  I tried not to smile, but it was so hard.

  “Both of y’all done lost your minds! You”—he looked at Zynique—“are over here talking to me as though you don’t remember that commandment that tells you to honor your mother and your father. And you”—he turned to me—“acting like you don’t hear this child running off at the mouth, acting like she hasn’t gotten any home training when it comes to how to talk to grown folks.”

  “Well, if I had been waiting on you to do any home training, this is what you would have gotten, if not worse, considering you were never home to do any training.” I said that so calm, I almost scared myself.