What a Sista Should Do

by Tiffany L. Warren

  “Thank you, Yvonne. I needed to hear that.”

  Yvonne replies, “You know, Pam, I just want to add that you probably do want to confront Troy if you think he’s being unfaithful.”

  Taylor adds, “I agree.”

  Yvonne continues, “I’d had feelings about Luke cheating for years, and I never did or said anything. If I’d been honest with myself, maybe Luke would have never went after Taylor.”

  I nod my head, listening intently to Yvonne’s advice. She knows better than anyone what infidelity can do to a marriage. Taylor looks a bit uncomfortable with the reference to her and Luke. I’m sure that she just wants to forget the whole thing, but it did happen. Yvonne’s demeanor is inspiring. She may be torn up on the inside about her husband, but she is still able to give sound advice.

  I try to lighten the somber mood. “Well, ladies, I think we have done enough bonding for one hundred women. Is anyone up for some fun?”

  Taylor smiles. “I saw a brochure in the lobby for snorkeling. It looks like fun.”

  “Sounds good to me,” says Yvonne.

  I declare excitedly, “Well, it’s settled, then. For the rest of this trip we are going to forget our cares and have a blast.”

  Taylor giggles, and Yvonne responds, “Girlfriend, I couldn’t agree with you more.”

  Chapter 27

  Yvonne

  I know trouble is brewing inside my house, and I don’t want to go in. I’m still feeling happy from my little adventure in Jamaica, and Luke is sure to ruin that feeling. I guess the uncertainty is showing all over my face, because Pam asks me if she should come in with me. I want to say yes, but, of course, I tell her no. There’s no need for her to witness one of Luke’s tantrums.

  I pray under my breath as I open the door. Lord, give me strength. Allow me to prevail over the enemy who is working through my husband. Guide my tongue, Lord, and let me say the right words to this man.

  I drag my suitcases into the living room, and I don’t see Luke anywhere around. He must be upstairs. I hang my coat in the closet and sit down on my living room sofa. I don’t think a hundred horses can drag me up those stairs. If Luke wants a confrontation, he’s going to have to come to me.

  No sooner than I can exhale, I hear his loud, heavy steps lumbering down the staircase. It sounds like he’s taking more than one step at a time, which worries me a bit. He seems too anxious.

  When he gets downstairs, he just stands in front of me, with his hands on his hips. I don’t know if he wants me to start talking, but I haven’t got anything to say to him really. Taylor told me how he seduced her and lied to her. She said that she believed I didn’t love him because I allowed him to spend the weekends with her. Luke had the nerve to tell her that I knew of their affair. I believe her because she has nothing to gain by lying to me.

  “Where have you been all week?”

  Out of habit, I start to answer him, but then I realize that I no longer respect this man as my husband. I don’t acknowledge his headship. My lips part, but no sound comes out. Luke is furious, but I am unafraid.

  “Are you going to answer me? I see that you have suitcases. Were you away with another man?”

  “Luke, why do you even think you have the right to ask?”

  “I am your husband. You are mine. Therefore, I have the right to ask you anything I want.”

  “Yeah, you can still call yourself my husband, but you haven’t been a husband to me in years.”

  “Who do you think takes care of you, Yvonne? You have never worked. Who has given you all of these things you have?” He waves his arms around frantically.

  I feel my own anger rising. “Take them! Take all of this mess and give me a man who loves me. One who don’t seduce young girls in the church and then treat them like trash.”

  He stares at me. “Oh, I see. You been talking to that little tramp, Taylor. Well, I don’t know what she has you believing, but she seduced me.”

  “Luke, save it for the Lord.” I wave my hand. “He’s the one that’s got to judge you. I don’t even care about this anymore.”

  “So are you saying you want a divorce?”

  Without hesitation I respond, “Yes. I absolutely do.”

  I expect Luke to be angry. In fact, I even expect for him to slap or punch me, like he did in those early days of our marriage. He confuses me when he walks away without a word. He goes into the kitchen, and I hear him pacing back and forth muttering to himself. I guess the worst. I look around frantically for something to defend myself, and not finding anything, I dash for the door.

  Luke pounces on me before I can even get off the porch. He’s dragging me by my hair back into the living room. I’m too frightened to scream, and my wild punches and kicks are not affecting Luke at all. My head and neck hurt from his tugging. He throws me across the room, and I slam into my china cabinet. I can feel blood trickling onto my face.

  I touch my head to feel for the wound, and there’s blood everywhere. Next thing I know, Luke is on top of me punching me in my face. I pray quickly, “Lord, deliver me . . . Lord, save me . . . Lord, forgive me of my sins.”

  Luke laughs as he moves from punching my face to my midsection. The pain is unbearable. I close my eyes. Let him kill me. Lord, take me.

  “Jesus,” I say.

  Luke has his fist in the air, ready to strike me again.

  “Jesus.”

  This time I push the Lord’s name out as loudly as I can. Luke starts laughing nervously, and slowly he lowers his arm. He’s covered with my blood.

  “You better call on Him. ’Cause He’s all you got now.”

  I’m lying on the floor as Luke rushes around the house like a lunatic. Soon I see him in fresh clothes, but he forgot to wash his face.

  Luke looks back at me, like maybe he’s sorry, but something changes his mind. I hear his car starting and the screech of the tires as he pulls off.

  My entire body feels like it’s on fire, but I have to get to the phone. It’s only five feet away, but it feels like a canyon. I can’t stand, so I crawl on my belly. I scoot a few inches at a time and lunge for the phone when it’s in my reach.

  There is no strength at all in my arm, but somehow I manage to make the phone fall in my direction. I am shocked at my bloody, shaking fingers and dial 911. When the operator comes on, I try to speak, but a sound comes out of my body that sounds like a wounded creature.

  After a few minutes I hear sirens coming down my street. I lie back and close my eyes again. Too tired to greet the paramedics. I just want to rest. I feel so tired . . .

  Chapter 28

  Taylor

  I’ve been walking around on edge. That idiot Luke went and attacked Yvonne, and now I feel like he might be coming after me and my son. The police haven’t been able to locate him, and that thoroughly pisses me off. What am I paying taxes for anyway if I’m not being protected? I’ve never been more scared in my life.

  I tried to get a restraining order, but they wouldn’t grant it because of insufficient evidence. Besides, a restraining order won’t do any good if Luke doesn’t know about it. Every time I open my apartment door, I’ve got my Mace in one hand.

  When Pam called me with the news, I packed about two weeks of clothing for my son and asked Pam to drop him off at my aunt’s house. Luke doesn’t know my aunt or where she lives. Maybe I should go stay over there too, but my aunt’s lectures are unbearable. She’s constantly reminding me of reaping what I’m sowing and whatnot. I mean, really, nobody wants to hear that all the time.

  With much insistence on Pam’s part, I decide to go with her to the hospital. Part of me is curious to see if Luke has truly turned into a maniac. Honestly, I never pictured Luke being fierce. He seems like the type that would break all your car windows out or cut up your clothes.

  Me and Pam walk onto the hospital floor, and, of course, all of the prayer warriors from New Faith are here. They’re milling around in front of Yvonne’s room. Some of them even look like they’re praying. />
  They all stop in their tracks when they see me. I don’t care, though. I’m used to them whispering about me when I walk by; shaking their heads and sucking their yellow teeth.

  One of the women grabs Pam by the arm and whispers something in her ear. Pam’s expression turns real ugly, and she rolls her eyes. I signal her with my eyes that she doesn’t even have to waste her energy on these ignorant women. I don’t. I’m here for one reason only—to see Yvonne.

  As soon as I lay eyes on the distorted figure lying on the hospital bed, tears start pouring out of my eyes. How could anyone in his or her right mind do something like this? Her face is swollen so badly that she’s unrecognizable. There are tubes coming out of her nose, and bags holding what looks like blood hover over her bed. Just a few days ago we were lying on the beach.

  Pam gasps, “This is all my fault. I asked her to go to Jamaica.”

  Yvonne slowly turns her head in our direction. I didn’t know that she was awake. She doesn’t look conscious, but then again, her eyes are just little slits. I think she’s trying to smile, but it looks more like a grimace. I wish she would stop; it looks painful.

  Pam goes over to the bed and holds Yvonne’s hand. Not really knowing what else to do, I follow suit, although I feel uncomfortable. My hand is shaking. Looking at her is making me afraid all over again, because it’s obvious that Luke has truly gone mad.

  Pam’s voice is shaking as she prays, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. Lord, we ask that You come into this hospital room right now. We ask that You send a healing right here for Yvonne. Lord, ease her pain and restore her body. Jesus, strengthen our sister. Lord, cover her. Send Your angels to watch over her day and night. Lord, put Your hedge of protection around her and shield her from the enemy. Jesus, we walk in victory, because we know that by Your stripes we are healed. Lord, send Your healing power. Touch Yvonne’s body right now. Touch her mind and touch her spirit. Give her peace of mind. Make her to know that the prayers of the saints are going forth on her behalf. Allow it to be a comfort in her time of distress. Lord, we ask that You bless and keep her. In Your precious and holy name, Jesus. Amen.”

  A trio of nurses comes into the room, and we take this as our cue to leave. Pam kisses Yvonne on the forehead and promises to come back. I don’t know if I can say anything worthy, so I don’t say anything.

  Pam drives me home, and we have very little conversation. I can tell she’s very distraught about Yvonne, but she can’t possibly understand the way I feel. Deep down, I get the feeling that I’m responsible for all this. I’m sure that I’m not the first woman that Luke cheated with, but somehow our indiscretion seemed to be a catalyst for the breakdown of their marriage. How can Yvonne not view me that way? I would understand if she did.

  The worst thing I could’ve done is visit Yvonne in the hospital on the eve of my second date with Spencer. After seeing her I’m nothing but a ball of nerves and negative energy. How can I trust myself after choosing someone as destructive as Luke? What if I make the same mistake again? Right now is probably not a good time for me to break ground on a new relationship.

  I’ve been sitting here on my bed, wrapped in a towel, trying to motivate myself into getting dressed. My hair looks drab, but I’m just going to slick it all back into a neat bun. I finally settle on an ultraconservative black pantsuit. It looks like something I’d wear to work, and it’s not the least bit flattering.

  I hear my doorbell ringing, and I know it’s Spencer. The only thing I can see myself doing tonight is telling him everything. And I don’t care how he handles it. If Spencer doesn’t want to deal with me after he knows about my skeletons, then so be it.

  He’s smiling when I open the door. I wonder if he’s always like this: grinning like the world is just plain old hunky-dory. He’s holding flowers, as usual.

  I invite him in and tell him to have a seat. He looks worried, but I’m not going to say anything to make him feel at ease.

  “Do you want something to drink?” I ask him this hoping that he’ll say yes, because I’m not really ready to start talking.

  “No, I’m fine. Is there something bothering you, Taylor? You don’t seem to be yourself.”

  This man doesn’t even really know me, but he’s telling me that I’m not myself? How does he know? This could be the real me, and he’s just now finding out. Men, especially black men, are so presumptuous, like I’ve got some type of problem that he can fix.

  I sit down on my love seat facing Spencer. I can tell he’s trying to figure me out. Trying to calculate and plan the conversation in his head. This man is definitely all business. He’s sizing me up as if I’m an opponent, just in case I am.

  “Spencer, I need to ask you a question.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Do you think that this thing between us is going anywhere? Or is this just recreation?”

  He smiles as if he’s a little relieved. “You know, I’ve been asking myself the same thing. What do you think it is, Taylor?”

  I respond bluntly, “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. I’ve been wrong in the past. Dead wrong.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Spencer, I need to tell you some things about myself. Things that may change your opinion of me. If, after hearing them, you want to walk out of here and never see me again, I’ll understand. I just don’t feel like wasting my time.”

  “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”

  “Sweetheart, it’s worse. You know that I have a son. My Joshua is the apple of my eye.”

  “A lot of women have children, Taylor. That’s not the end of the world.”

  “And that also isn’t the end of my story. My son’s father is married. He was married when I met him, married when I slept with him, and he’s married still.”

  He straightens up in the chair. “I don’t know what to say . . .”

  “Well, don’t say anything yet, because I’m not finished. The father was a minister at my church, and I’m pretty sure that his marriage has been destroyed.” The words spill from my mouth.

  Spencer sits silently with an expression of shock and confusion. I don’t know how to respond to his silence.

  I continue boldly: “I’ve told you, and now you know. Do whatever you want with the information.”

  “What do you want me to do? Judge you?”

  I don’t know how to answer him. I think I do want him to judge me, and harshly at that. I deserve it for what I’ve done. Maybe I don’t deserve to have a good man in my life. I can’t stop thinking about Yvonne lying in that bed.

  “You know what, Spencer? I know you’re expecting a date, but I’m not really feeling like going out.”

  He looks irritated, but right now I don’t care. I’m probably going to regret this mess later.

  “Taylor, on the way down here I was asking myself what I actually see in you. I was questioning my own judgment. You are beautiful, no doubt, but I wonder if there is any more to you than good looks.”

  “Spencer, if you’re so concerned about my depth, why do you keep coming back?”

  Spencer shakes his head. “I don’t know. I thought that there was something different about you.”

  “You thought?” I ask indignantly.

  “Yes. But now I’m feeling otherwise. I think you’ve got some man issues, Taylor,” responds Spencer in an all-knowing tone.

  “Man issues? Spencer, you don’t even know me all like that,” I spit angrily.

  Spencer gives me some attitude of his own. “I don’t need to know you to see that you’ve got some stuff that God needs to work out.”

  “Do I? Really? Well, it seems like you’ve got some stuff to work out too, brotha. Especially your lust problem.”

  Spencer huffs. “Lust problem?”

  “Yes. That’s what I said. The only reason you keep coming here all the way from Toledo is because you think you’re going to get some.”

  He chuckles arrogantly. “Is that it? That’s the vibe you’re putting
out there? I knew it was something. For a while I was thinking that maybe you were saved, single and a nice change of pace from the sistas back home. But you’ve made it all very clear. If you think that every man out here only wants to take you to bed, then you have bigger problems than I thought. I’m glad you told me early on. Thank you.”

  Am I supposed to be offended or start crying? Please. He won’t be the first man to walk out of my door and never come back. Probably won’t be the last. I stand up, walk over to my living room door and open it.

  “You showing me the door now?”

  “Actually, I’d like to show you the hallway, outside my apartment.”

  Spencer frowns and sucks his teeth. “I don’t need this.”

  He glares at me as he walks through the doorway. He looks just like a wounded critter. For all their superhero qualities, men are nothing but babies when it comes to being rejected. Whatever the case, I’m just glad he’s leaving.

  I slam the door and crumple into a little ball on the floor. I’m trying to pretend like Spencer’s words haven’t hurt me, but they have.

  Lord, what is wrong with me? Maybe I’m not ready to be anyone’s wife or anyone’s girlfriend. Jesus, show me Your will for my life. If You want me to be alone, I’ll accept that. I’ll serve You and raise my son with Your help. But, Lord, if that be Your will, take this lonely feeling away from me. You said that You’d never put more on me than I can bear. I don’t know if I can bear being lonely for the rest of my life. Lord, please speak to me.

  Chapter 29

  Pam

  Gretchen is throwing one of her signature temper tantrums in the middle of my kitchen. Of course, I’m not going to acquiesce and give her the Popsicle, but her actions are intriguing to me. Usually, I just ignore her little tirades, but today she’s making a whole lot of sense to me.

  I wish I could be just like a big baby myself and act out exactly how I’m feeling. I mean, why can’t I just throw a fit when I’m tired or hungry? How about when I get angry? Can I start throwing stuff around the room and kicking folk in their shins? It seems to work for Gretchen. She isn’t ever stressed-out after one of her episodes.