Raquel faked a smile while wondering why Karen felt it was okay to come outside looking like a dirty mop. “I will do your hair for free if you promise to never come out in public looking like that again.”
“What?” Karen patted her weave down.
“What do you mean ‘what’? You look like you got your weave done by somebody’s thirteen-year-old cousin in the back of a truck going a hundred miles per hour. Patting it is not going to help. You need to pull that stuff out and start all over again. And what’s wrong with your outfit? It’s the summer, way past time for warm-up suits.” Raquel looked around the restaurant, then back at Karen. “Hurry up and sit down.”
Karen meekly took her seat across from Raquel.
Raquel suddenly noticed the sullen expression on Karen’s face and remembered she needed to be nice to her. She tried to redirect the conversation.
“I’m sorry. I was tripping. It’s just that you usually are so pulled together.” Raquel motioned to her stylish ensemble. “I mean, look at me. You taught me a lot of what I know, and look how good I look.”
Karen looked down at the table, unable to focus on Raquel’s eyes.
Raquel continued. “It’s okay, girl. We are going to get you fixed up just as soon as we leave. I have a client coming, but she can wait until I’m finished with you.”
Karen mumbled something.
“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you, Karen.”
Karen wiggled back and forth in her seat. She still refused to look at Raquel.
Raquel could feel her temperature rising. The Karen she knew didn’t wiggle, and she certainly didn’t mumble. Whatever she said, she spoke it fearlessly. Raquel moved in closer and in a whisper said, “You are making me nervous . . . very . . . very nervous. What’s up with you?”
Karen said nothing. Raquel took a deep breath when the food arrived. Surely, Karen would be excited about the spread she had ordered. Raquel said in a voice that sounded like a kindergarten teacher, “Look, Karen, I got all your favorite things.”
Karen stared blankly at the steak and risotto the waitress had set in front of her. Raquel went on. “I even got a small bowl of gumbo and a few of those crab cakes you like so much. I know it’s a lot, but I was thinking you could take some of it home . . . you know.”
Raquel could feel the beads of sweat forming on her forehead.
Karen waited until the waitress left, then pushed her food away. She finally looked up at Raquel. “I’ve decided to fast today.”
“What!”
Raquel caught herself and then said in a softer tone, “I mean, I don’t understand.”
“Now that I’m a Christian, I find it necessary to get closer to the Lord. I have found that I can hear God’s voice better during a period of fasting.” Karen waited for Raquel to say something; when she didn’t, Karen went on. “I know why you have brought me here, and I want you to know I have been thinking and praying about your situation.”
“Really?” Raquel resisted the urge to squeeze Karen’s neck and watch the life stream out of her. “What are you going to do about my situation, Karen?”
“I’m going to pray that you tell James that there is a possibility that Morris and Alexis are not his because you have been sleeping with Randall from day one.”
“I knew I should have never told you. What in the world was I thinking?”
“You never meant to tell me, remember? I found you and Randall in the back of his van at Lacey’s housewarming party.”
Raquel sneered at Karen. For years, she had kept her secret, then one slipup and she spilled her guts to Karen. Of course, she thought that Karen could be trusted with this information. For a long time, she could. Only Karen knew about Raquel’s secret obsession, a so-called rapper/producer she had known since high school. He was an overall mess-up, in and out of jail, no ambition, still living at home with his mom, but he could satisfy Raquel in bed like no man could. He was an addiction. As much as she tried to leave him for good, the hours of ecstasy he supplied her body with had her running back for more. It was their little secret, and it had to stay that way. It was weeks before her dream wedding. She was too close to spending the rest of her life with James to blow it.
Raquel tried to sound like she was calm. “James thinks he’s the only man I have ever slept with. That’s the one thing I have on that baboon, Joan. If the information is revealed, don’t you know what it would mean?”
“Well, it is about time he found out the truth. Do you really want to start your new lives together with a pile of lies?”
The nervousness in Raquel was quickly turning to rage. Last night on 48 Hours Mystery the reporter interviewed a man who had killed his wife with rat poisoning by injecting it into her food and water. The last interview was with a woman who had hired a hit man to kill her husband’s mistress in what appeared to be a drug deal. Raquel wondered how she could do what needed to be done to Karen, only without getting caught.
“I thought we were better than this,” Raquel said.
“This is not about me and you. This is about you and God.”
Raquel shifted the conversation. “Are you still going to be my maid of honor?”
“I have been meaning to talk to you about that. I know I should have told you earlier, but no. I’m sorry, Raquel. I love you like you are my own sister, but I cannot participate in this mockery of God’s holy covenant of marriage.”
Raquel wanted to slap her, good and hard. How many married men had she serviced dishonoring God’s holy covenant?
Karen seemed to read her mind. “I know my new life is confusing to you. It is confusing to me too. I’m so different now. Everything has changed. Especially now that I have my diagnosis. All that hard living got the best of me.” Karen paused; then she looked around to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. “I’m HIV positive, Raquel.”
Raquel felt sick. Karen didn’t have anything to lose. Now that she had an incurable disease, she could tell James the truth and not have any regrets.
Karen started to weep. “I’m sorry, Raquel, for leading you astray the way that I did. I know that my past life was beyond evil. I’m trying to make amends and give back what I have taken. I know Jesus has forgiven me of my sins. He is giving me the strength to apologize to those I hurt. That includes you. I’m so sorry, Raquel.”
Raquel stared at her and waited for the sympathy, which she knew she was supposed to be feeling, to rise up inside her. But nothing came. All she could feel was anger. She knew she needed to choose her words wisely; so she paused momentarily and then said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Raquel handed her a tissue to wipe her eyes. Karen seemed to believe she was genuine. “I found out a few weeks ago. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how you would respond.” Karen paused. “All I’ve ever wanted was a family, but now it seems like I’m not going to have one, huh?”
Raquel couldn’t help herself as she blurted out, “Are you going to tell James about Randall?”
Karen looked repulsed. “Did you just hear what I said? And that’s all you have to say to me? Shoot, are you even human? Can you show no compassion?”
Raquel held her breath, then exhaled slowly before she launched into a monologue: “Do you know I have spent my whole life planning this wedding? Do you know I’m having my reception at the Oakley in the grand ballroom, with a full band and orchestra? Do you know I am having orchids flown in from two different countries to make up my towering centerpieces? Do you know that I joined some stupid church and went to weeks of Premarital classes so I could have a thrilling two-story glass altar in my wedding photos? Do you know I spent over seven thousand dollars for a dress I’m only going to wear one day? Do you know that I’m a ghetto girl from the hood and for once in my life I get to be the princess? I have worked hard and saved harder. I have spent many days in the streets pounding the pavement getting clients. I have been on my feet to the wee hours of the morning, day after day, month after month, and year after year. I
finally got the man, the house, and the kids, and now everything will go down the drain if poor, sick little Karen decides to blow it all away.”
Karen looked at Raquel, desperately searching for a glimmer of compassion. When she didn’t find any, she stood up from the table. “You don’t have to worry about me telling your beloved James the truth. The two of you deserve each other. Both of you are sick, materialistic, egotistic heathens.” With that, Karen walked out.
Raquel watched the back of Karen as she moved closer to the exit. Raquel was surer than ever Karen could not be trusted. If only she had paid more attention to that rat-poisoning story.
Chapter 3
“There’s a time when it’s okay to be one of many—you know, the one woman of many.” Joan resisted the urge to look up at her best friend, Tisha, for a reaction. She continued to read. “It’s okay to pretend, as if he’s not lying to you. It’s okay and even desirable to be the woman he glides into, supplying your body with pleasure. And then one day, it will be over. It does not matter if you have been with him hour after hour, day after day, or year after year.
“He’ll get up, and in that moment, what used to be good enough will not be good enough anymore. It won’t matter where he’s going and who he’s going to be with next. All you know is that’s the last time he’ll be with you. You could have spent the last ten, fifteen, twenty years desperately trying to hold on to him, and then you just let him go. The feelings that you seemed destined to carry around forever just disappear.
“My whole life has changed since I got James out and let Jesus in. I have been celibate and walking with the Lord strong for a while now, and the sight of James just makes me think about the past and all that time I wasted holding on to a dream, or maybe I should call it a nightmare. I hold no conversations with him. He is my ex for a reason. And yes, I have vowed to allow him full access to our son, but he has absolutely no access to me . . . at least not anymore.
“His biceps, triceps, and perfectly chiseled body screaming with temptation used to haunt me.” Joan’s voice cracked. “‘The gym has always been his very special friend. He had me on lockdown while he cheated on me and abused me for eight years and fifty-seven days. He didn’t just have my body. He had my mind too. In the beginning, we would take walks and talk about politics. We could go on and on for hours. He would take me on his motorcycle and we would make love in the park. He would sing me songs, even though he couldn’t sing. He even wrote poems. They didn’t make sense, but do you think I cared? I was like a little girl caught up in a fairy tale. I had found somebody to complete me.
“Just to think, I would have drunk his bathwater, sucked his toes, and ate his boogers, if I had thought it would make him stay with me instead of her. Okay, so maybe I would not have done all that . . . but to think of all I did do. If it wasn’t for the almost ten-year-old boy we share, I promise you I would never lay eyes on him again.
“Don’t get me wrong. I don’t blame James alone. He was only one act in the drama-filled existence that used to be my life. He was only one of the men I’d slept with. Bed-hopping was not my only vice. When I got tired of that, I island-hopped, and while I was there I did a little bed-hopping too. Sometimes I didn’t know one room from the other. I was in pain. I was searching for something. I’m here to tell you I found it. Or maybe I should say Him, the Him I had always been looking for.
“I was reborn. No, I didn’t travel through my mother’s birth canal again. But I was reborn nevertheless. I was set free. In what seemed like an instant, my world came together. My Mercedes-Benz SUV, my handbags that cost small fortunes, and extensive designer wardrobe didn’t matter to me. Nothing mattered, except being filled with His presence and walking in His ways.”
Joan looked away from the paper and looked directly at Tisha. She tried to look calm, despite the knots that were forming in her shoulders. Joan got jittery every time she had to speak for Woman’s Day Wednesday at their church, even though this was her fourth time being selected.
Joan chose to read the beginning of the address to Tisha because her friend could be blunt, to the point of humiliation, if necessary. Tisha smiled and then started to cry. Joan shuffled her papers and wondered where she went wrong, or if she went wrong.
It was Monday afternoon; the bakery Joan owned was practically empty. Tisha and Joan sat on wooden stools behind the counter. They would not have a rush again until this evening when the college students from the community college came by with their laptops, earphones, and oversized books.
For now, Lindsey, the author who came by every day, was busy pecking on her laptop, sipping a latte. She was pushing out a best seller, Joan and Tisha often joked. She had sat there almost every day since the bakery officially opened, two years ago. Rebecca and Shamar, the interracial newlyweds, were sitting on the stools by the window, staring at each other, sharing a piece of chocolate cake and a deluxe café mocha, with two straws.
Tisha walked away from her stool and faced the assortment of stainless-steel coffee equipment so she could hide her tears. Joan could only watch her as “To God Be the Glory” played on the sound system. It was important for Joan to have a spiritual theme in her bakery. She wanted it to be a place where people could pray, read the Bible, and talk about Jesus freely.
Sometimes they would have a Christian band, praise dancers, or spoken-word artists come out and perform on the weekends. Multiple verses of scripture were printed on the walls and the portable coffee containers.
“It’s just that . . .” Tisha tried to speak.
“It’s just what?” Joan asked nervously as she stared at Tisha’s back. Part of her wanted to see Tisha’s face, but she was afraid she would see the truth in Tisha’s eyes. Joan had spent two weeks preparing the speech and didn’t know if she had the heart to start all over from scratch.
Joan looked around and made sure the counter was clear of customers. Tisha quietly wept. Frustrated, Joan asked, “Is it that bad, Tisha?”
Tisha turned around instantly. “That bad? That bad? No, Joan, it is not bad at all. It’s perfect, absolutely perfect. It’s different from any of your other lessons. You are so vulnerable, so exposed. You are really going to help a lot of women with that one.”
Joan looked confused and relieved at the same time. “Well, then, why are you crying?”
Tisha walked to the end of the counter, which was lined with freshly made chocolate, lemon, and peach croissants. “Joan, look around. Look at us. . . . Look at all of this. . . .”
Joan exhaled; she knew exactly why Tisha was crying now. It really was remarkable. They had gone from club-hopping to Bible Study, from having sex to being celibate, from unbelievers to being Christians, from not going to church to speaking at church functions. Everything about them seemed to have changed.
“Who would have thought,” Tisha added, “I would be able to live without Marcus? And that you would have finally gotten James Sr. out of your system? That we would have put our talents and money together to start up this bakery? And then, with all that, God is still doing more!”
Tisha pointed to the first review the Houston Tribune had posted about the bakery. It read:
Happy Endings, the newest chic bakery, promises just that. The hardwood floor, inviting music, and perfectly brewed South American coffee would have been enough. But the owner, Joan Dallas, and her assistant, Tisha Lewis, added lemon scones, chai, and raspberry truffles so good they will make you scream. The sweet potato pecan pie should be against the law. It is more savory than sweet, and so succulent! This is no ordinary dessert shop, but an elegant way to end a meal. Or if you like dessert as much as I do, begin one.
Joan looked around like she was taking it all in for the first time. Tisha was right. God had moved and moved mightily in their lives.
The phone rang. Tisha walked over to answer it. “It makes you wonder, huh? I mean, what is going to happen next?”
Joan smiled and grabbed a towel to clean the already spotless counter. “You never know w
hat the day will bring.”
Chapter 4
James admired the determined click of his favorite pair of Italian dress shoes. He hurriedly made it down the hall of Coolwater Church. His ringing cell phone stopped his stride midstep. “It’s about time you called me back. What’s up with you?”
“What’s up with me? What’s up with you?” Miles retorted. “Some lady claiming to be your wedding planner called. She said something about not forgetting to go get the final alterations on my tux. Since there is not going to be a wedding, why do I need to be worried about a tux?”
James looked around to make sure he was alone. “That’s what I needed to talk to you about. I haven’t told Raquel a thing. As a matter of fact, I’m about to meet with her now so that we can speak with the preacher about the final rundown for our wedding.”
“What! You are going to actually marry this woman after finding out that both Morris and Alexis belong to another man? She’s been cheating on you for as long as you have been together.”
“Exactly, that’s why I’m going to pay her back in a way she will never forget. Last night I came up with a plan.”
“Tell me more.”
“I can’t give you the details right now. Just don’t let on that you know something is up. Do whatever the wedding planner tells you.”
“I can’t wait to see what you have planned for that lying trick.”
“Just think—I was tripping about this. I actually threw out my numbers, started going to these lame church meetings, trying to live right by this woman, and she did this to me for all these years. She is going to pay for this.”
“When is this meeting over? I got to hear this.”
“Well, I don’t know, about an hour or so, but I was thinking about going by Joan’s afterward.”
Miles laughed. “I knew you were going to make your way back to that. You always do. She would be a fool to take you back. Besides, I heard her and Tisha are some Holy Rollers now, going to church all through the week, and they stopped giving it up.”
The Bride Experiment Page 2