My Son's Ex-Wife: The Aftermath

by Shelia E. Lipsey

  While Stiles sat and waited on the man-sized dinner to get ready, he thought of everything that had transpired over the last year of his life. The timer went off and yanked him away from his thoughts. He gulped down the fish nuggets and steak fries hurriedly.

  After he finished his supper, he stood up, threw the empty container in the trash, wiped his mouth with his paper towel, and headed to the den to study his mid-week sermon notes. He couldn’t concentrate.

  Stiles missed Rena, but he didn’t really understand how he could still miss, and yes still be in love, with a woman who betrayed and deceived him. He had placed his trust in Rena, given her his whole heart, and she crushed him by sleeping with his sister. Stiles rubbed the top of his head back and forth. His tears were fresh and heavy. His heart ached, and he didn’t know what he was going to do. Probably almost everyone at church was whispering and coming up with their conclusions about the reasons for the divorce. Stories continually surfaced in the most unlikely places. Stiles no longer felt the anointing of God over his life. He felt more like a wounded man, vulnerable, fit to be tied and disbarred from the ministry he once believed God had called him to serve.

  He went to his bedroom and sat on the edge of the unmade bed. For a few minutes he sat, and then lay back on the propped up pillow. He needed to find Francesca. He wanted to hear her side of the story, plus he wanted to see if she was all right. He had gone to a private physician to get tested for STDs and God had been favorable; all of his tests were negative. The doctor recommended that he return every three months over the next year, plus Stiles was supposed to make an appointment if he felt or saw any changes in his body. He thought of what Francesca might be experiencing. She actually had an STD and she was HIV positive. Stiles understood that his sister had to bear the consequences of her actions and sinful decisions, but somehow he felt that God had been too harsh.

  He was just as confused when it came to Rena. “Why? Why couldn’t she just tell me the truth in the beginning? Why did she have to build our relationship on lies and deceit?” Stiles said out loud, and then sat upright in the bed and crossed his legs Indian style. He used his fist to pound the bed over and over again. “Rena, why couldn’t you have just told me the truth? You could have told me you were in love with my sister. You could have saved me from all of this grief. But, noooo,” he screamed out loud. “You let me love you, knowing that you loved her. Both of you are sick, sick, sick,” he kept yelling.

  “And Mother, how could you keep a secret from Pastor and your sister about what Fonda did to Francesca? What kind of woman of God are you supposed to be? You’re partly to blame for all of this too.” Stiles looked upward at the bedroom ceiling as if answers would pour from the sky any minute. Only silence answered.

  Stiles disrobed and took a shower. Thought after thought. Hurt upon hurt. Love that he wanted to deny but couldn’t, kept flooding his mind and thrashing at his heart until he screamed under the pounding sprays of water. “God, why? What am I supposed to learn from this? What do you want me to do? I can’t forgive her like I know that I should. I want to, Lord. Help me. Help my unbelief.” Stiles fell to his knees and on to the marble tiled shower floor. Water washed away the tears that wouldn’t stop flowing. “Rena,” he cried out. “God, I still love her. God, I can’t do this. I just can’t do this.” His cries went on until he felt the water turning cool. He slowly stood to his feet and rinsed his body.

  Before getting into bed, he fell to his knees again. This time, Stiles prayed for God to renew a right spirit within him. He prayed for Rena, Francesca, his parents, and for his congregation. He ended his prayer with a request for God to help him become a man who could trust love and loving again. Then he got up, climbed in bed, and reached over on his nightstand to retrieve his Bible.

  Chapter Three

  “The hottest love has the coldest end.”

  ~Socrates~

  Rena found her pain more bearable after she confided in her mother. Initially she’d told her father only about her and Stiles. She didn’t have the nerve to tell him everything. She believed he would be so disappointed in her and the choices she’d made in her life when she was in Memphis. Rena’s mother became Rena’s confidante, her godly counsel. Two weeks after she arrived home, her mother had convinced her to tell her father everything from beginning to end.

  Rena sat next to her mother while she told him all about Francesca, the STD, their relationship, and her deceit. He listened attentively. At times he frowned, and at other times his face remained stoic, almost unlife like, but Rena continued until she got everything out in the open. When she was finished, she waited on the verbal onslaught from her father. But it never came.

  Mr. Jackson was extremely upset when he heard the truth about everything, but one thing that he was not was condemning. Rena watched his eyes glisten. She saw hurt sketched all over his almost wrinkle free, burnt by the sun skin. But what Rena didn’t see was disgust. Her father sat in his recliner, quiet for several seconds.

  Rena’s mother took hold of her hand. Suddenly, Rena’s father opened his arms and outstretched them toward his child. Stunned, Rena paused momentarily, then stood up and rushed into the waiting arms of her father.

  “Oh, Daddy, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that I messed up. I’m so sorry that I hurt so many people.” She cried all over his shirt while he held her and patted her on the back like he used to do when she was a little girl.

  “You’ve done nothing that God won’t forgive you for, honey. You just have to yield yourself to Him. I am not the one to judge or condemn anyone.” He pulled her away from him slightly while she remained on his lap. He looked her directly in the eyes, and rubbed her hair gently. “We all make mistakes, sweetheart. No one is perfect. No one walks the straight and narrow. Yes, you’ve done some things that are not pleasing to God. But confess those things, something I’m sure you’ve already done.”

  Rena answered with a nod of her head.

  “Then you have been forgiven. God is the only judge. You have to move on with your life. Forgive yourself. I know Stiles is hurt. He probably feels like he was purposely deceived, and maybe he was. You do owe him an apology, along with all of those whose lives you’ve hurt along the way. Seek their forgiveness and get this heavy burden off of you. If they don’t accept your forgiveness, then that’s on them. They’ll have to answer to God for that. Rena, it’s the only way you’re going to be set free.”

  His words were spoken so gently. Rena leaned back against his broad shoulders and tear-soaked shirt. He held her for a very long time. This was where she needed to be; at home with family who loved her no matter what.

  Rena settled rather quickly in Andover. She found and leased a two bedroom, cottage-style house in the suburbs, several miles from her parents. She thought of Stiles, Frankie, and the entire Graham family often, but each time, tried to push thoughts of her past behind. There would be a time she would have to own up to the mistakes of her past by seeking forgiveness from the Grahams. Her father was right about that, but she couldn’t do it right now. Her hurt was too fresh.

  Rena was offered a position as lead librarian at Andover Mass Preparatory, one of the prominent private schools, which proved to be quite rewarding. She found it enjoyable and challenging working with middle school-aged children on a daily basis. It was definitely a far cry from what she’d been accustomed to doing at the public libraries in Memphis and Arkansas. This position was hers, and hers alone, to operate as she saw best. She decided on most of the reading materials that would go on the library shelves; and she set out to make sure that the children had plenty of books that would provide them with the gift of knowledge often overlooked because of the lack of reading.

  Rena learned the names of most of the 275 plus children who attended the school because they came to the library on their assigned Class Library Day. Many of the students also spent their free time in the library doing homework, working on special projects, meeting up with friends, or reading.

  Ov
erall, Rena was doing quite well in her new life as a divorced woman of God. There was no denying that she regretted the damage she’d caused in Memphis, but thank God her small, intimate church family openly welcomed her. She returned to feeling secure in her life, which allowed her to slowly forgive herself.

  Thoughts of Frankie’s well-being and whereabouts often drifted through her mind. Where was she? How was she doing? Was she suffering from the results of having HIV? Was she incarcerated again? Had her HIV turned into full blown AIDS? And what about Stiles? she thought as she placed computerized library stamps on a fresh load of books that had been delivered.

  Talks with Mr. Bolden, her former supervisor in Memphis, were sporadic. There was nothing he could tell her anyway about Stiles, Frankie or any of the Grahams for that matter. But he was a great resource of information that helped with her present position.

  Rena resigned herself to making good things happen in Andover. Thus far, she’d had a pretty good start in the form of Dr. Robert Becton. He was one of the physical science teachers and assistant basketball coaches at Andover Mass Preparatory. When she first started the job, Robert was one of the first teachers to bring his class to the library to gather information for an upcoming science project.

  He was more than easy on the eyes, and a confident air about himself drew Rena toward him like a magnet. He must have felt some attraction to her as well, because after releasing his students to seek their required reading materials, he seemed to focus his attention on Rena.

  “So you’re the one who ran Mr. Holloway off, huh?” His baritone voice caused Rena to feel somewhat anxious when he approached her.

  “Excuse me?” replied Rena. She wasn’t sure if he were serious or not. He certainly wasn’t flashing a smile.

  “Hey, don’t look so serious,” said Robert. This time he flashed a wide smile, and immediately, Rena exhaled lightly. He extended his hand out toward her. “I’m Dr. Robert Becton, Physical Science, Class Two, grade eight. And you have to be Mrs. Rena Graham, right?”

  “Yes, that’s me. Present and accounted for.” Rena smiled.

  “Mr. Holloway was the school’s previous librarian, but he retired at the end of the past school term after thirty-eight years; but you probably already know that.”

  Robert didn’t give her much time to respond. Rena nodded her head in agreement. He had a hint of what Rena surmised was a New Yorkian accent. Like most New Yorkers, Robert came off, though pleasantly, as being direct, opinionated, and confident. And he certainly seemed to enjoy talking.

  “I missed meeting you at the AMP Staff Welcome Reception. I was attending a science convention in Boston,” explained Robert, like he owed her a viable explanation for his absence.

  Rena had done some research of her own. She learned from the booklet given to her at the Welcome Reception, the names and titles of the staff at Andover Mass. Dr. Becton’s picture in the booklet did not do him justice. “It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Becton. I believe there are two or three more staffers I’ve yet had the pleasure of meeting,” she told him. “I hope they’re all as engaging as you.”

  Rena’s nervousness vanished as Robert effortlessly engaged her in conversation about Andover Mass and the layout of the accelerated science programs the school offered. With what could only be described as confidence, Robert sat in the chair parked next to Rena’s desk.

  “Why don’t you tell me something I don’t know about you?”

  “I’m sure that would take quite some time, Dr. Becton.”

  Robert smiled, glanced at the watch on his wrist, and then replied. “I have exactly thirty-seven and a half minutes. Fill me in.”

  Rena flashed a smile again. “Well, let’s see. Where do I start?” Rena decided to tell him what he more than likely already knew about her from the staff booklet. “I’m a native of Massachusetts.”

  “Uh-huh; know that. Staff Members Booklet,” he said quickly. “But keep going.” He gestured toward her with his right hand, like he was shooing a fly away.

  “Okay. Ummm.” Rena pretended like she was in deep thought. “I’ve lived in Memphis and Marion, Arkansas since I was fourteen years old. I worked as a librarian in both cities before I made the decision to return home.”

  “Okay, I think we’re getting warmer. But let me help you out,” Robert urged in a non-pushy manner. “The staff booklet doesn’t say anything about there being a Mr. Graham. Can I be so lucky as to assume there isn’t one?” He flirted openly but tastefully.

  Rena blushed. “My, you are something else. You get right to the nitty gritty, don’t you?”

  Robert paused and checked the time again. “I only have twenty-nine minutes before I gather my future scientist protégés and prepare for my next class. So I’d like to learn as much about you as I can.”

  “I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time for that, Dr. Becton.”

  “Oh is that so? And please, call me Robert.”

  Rena decided to flip the script. “Okay, Robert. Why don’t you tell me something about you that I don’t know?”

  “That’s easy. The moment I saw your picture in the staff booklet, I know you might think it’s corny, but I felt like you were going to become an important part of my life.” This time Robert wasn’t smiling. He sounded so serious that Rena’s heart picked up its pace. Without effort, she laid her left hand on her chest.

  She pursed her lips before she responded. “Look, Dr. Becton, I don’t play games. That’s something you definitely don’t know about me, so it’s best to let you know that from the get go. If you did, you wouldn’t be sitting here trying to play one with me. Save that for your wife and kids. And be careful what you say because that was in your bio in the staff book.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Robert looked directly into her eyes. Rena quickly shifted hers to a copy of The Native Son lying on her desk. “What it did say was that I have two children. It said nothing about there being a Mrs. Becton. And your bio, by the way, did not mention there being a hubby.”

  “Since you insist on going there, and why it would matter to you anyway, I don’t know. I will tell you this much, I recently returned to Andover after a traumatic divorce. Now,” Rena patted the book and sighed, “is there anything else you insist on knowing about me, Robert?” Rena tried to smirk, but her lips turned upward in a smile once again.

  “Now, that wasn’t so hard was it?” asked Robert. “But there’s one more thing.” He raised one finger up at the same time he spoke.

  “And what is that? Rena asked. “Do you want to know my height, age, weight, and social security number too?” She tried to sound sarcastic, but it didn’t appear to faze Robert at all.

  “Like I said, and I’m serious, Rena.” Rena liked the way he called her name. “I couldn t wait for the chance to meet you in person. There was something about your picture that captivated me, other than you being beautiful. It was like God speaking to me. And when God speaks, I listen.”

  Rena didn’t know what to think, and there was nothing she could say but, “We all should listen when God speaks.”

  “See, we already have something in common; the most important thing too; and that’s God. You know, there are so many scientists today who do all of this research.” Robert waved his hand upward flippantly. “And yet they choose to give scientific reasons for how the earth came to be, how man came into existence. It perturbs me to no end,” he said.

  Rena realized she could probably listen to Robert tirelessly. He didn’t present himself as annoying or conceited. He gave information about himself freely, especially his belief in God. He had a vivacious personality, wide smile, and before he ushered his class back to the classroom, Rena had agreed to join him for lunch in the school’s food court.

  Rena laughed at Robert’s humorous anecdotes between taking tiny bites of her chicken sandwich. It was refreshing to talk to someone of the opposite sex, something she hadn’t engaged in since she left Memphis and Stiles. At least she hadn’t on a personal level.

>   “So, Dr. Becton,” she said teasingly, “tell me about your family.”

  “Okay, let’s see. Robert took a swig of his lemon water; he bit his bottom lip like he was choosing what he should say. “I’m new to the divorce scene myself. I’m a single dad raising my four-year-old daughter, Isabelle, and my ten-month-old son, Robbie.”

  “I don’t have children of my own, but you don’t have to tell me that it’s a pretty big job. Raising children these days can’t be easy. I don’t envy you,” remarked Rena

  Robert smiled slightly. “I love my kids. Yet I can’t deny that there are times when I ask God, why they have to grow up without the love of their mother?”

  Rena nodded, sipped from her glass of tea, and lowered her eyes, afraid she might see the hurt that she heard in Robert’s voice.

  “My wife, Karen, ex-wife,” Robert corrected himself, “was diagnosed with manic-depressive disorder. It worsened over the six and a half years of our relationship. I prayed and believed for her healing and thought that things were changing when she became pregnant with our first child, Isabelle.” Robert smiled. “I remember Karen being happy back then. She was the amazing, beautiful, funny woman I first fell in love with. Then within a month of giving birth to Isabelle, her battle against mental illness returned with a vengeance. She began to withdraw from me, from her family, and more from Isabelle. I mean, there were days, or moments when she was what I guess we equate as normal, but those days became more sporadic.”

  The more Rena listened to Robert, she understood that his reasons for divorce were far different and much sadder.

  “Did you seek professional help for her?” Rena looked at Robert with an aching in her eyes.

  “Of course. She was even hospitalized a couple of times during the course of our marriage. And she was on a long list of medications, which also had an even longer list of side effects. But the thing about Karen was that she wanted to love me; she wanted to love our daughter. No one is going to make me think differently. But she couldn’t. I’d come home from work sometimes and Karen would be gone. I wouldn’t hear from her for days at a time. Made me believe she was strung out on crack or something, but I wasn’t far off course. I found out that was not entirely the case. I did discover through some people we both knew that she dabbled in some other drugs like cocaine and methamphetamine.