Keisha opened the screen door with her hip and stepped onto the porch. “Ms. Sheila, Mary Beth told me to bring this-here plate a' sandwiches to you. You done talkin’ yet?”
Sheila took the sandwiches and passed the plate to Laney. “Thank you, Keisha, we’ll take those and no, we’re not done talking. Is there something you need?”
“No, I jus’ wanted to know, that’s all. I’m leavin’, no worries.” Keisha headed back into the house.
Laney managed a smile. “Thank you, Keisha.”
All Sheila and Laney heard in response was mumbling and they both started to laugh. Laney realized just how hungry she was and took a bite of the sandwich.
Sheila sat back and relaxed. “She’ll grow on you, you know. You watch and see. She has a heart of gold. She may be a little unpolished, but she has a good heart. Now as for the rest of the house rules, pretty basic stuff. Everyone pitches in and helps with the cleaning and cooking. Also, all the ladies take turns watching each other’s children during individual counseling times. We have an in-house advocate who will be meeting with you one-on-one starting tomorrow morning at ten and then each day afterward for the first week. She will discuss your second-week schedule with you once she sees where you are. We also have group sessions at 8:30 each night, after the kids are settled into bed. This is where you will build relationships with the other ladies. It really is a time of healing.
Sheila looked at her watch. “We do have some pretty strict schedules to adhere to. Why don’t you call in the kids and get them bathed and ready for bed. I’m sure they are exhausted. Then you can join us for our group discussion this evening.”
* * * *
Laney looked around the room that would be their home for the next few weeks. Melanie and Matt were already sound asleep and Joy was curled up on the top bunk with a book. “Night, honey. I love you.”
“I love you too, mom. How long are we going to stay here? I like it.”
“I don’t know. A few weeks I think. I’ll let you know for sure when I find out. I’m going to head downstairs. I have to go to group therapy.” Laney winked at her daughter and started for the door, then turned around. “Thank you, Joy. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
* * * *
The library had ten chairs arranged in a circle. The house was big, but Laney didn’t realize there was room enough for ten ladies and their children. Well, eight if you subtract Sheila and the counselor, although Sheila did live there as well, so nine.
Laney took one of the four open chairs and quietly waited for things to get started. Keisha came through the door huffing and puffing, talking to whoever would listen. “What am I gonna do with that child? He won’ go to sleep. Keep callin’ for his mama.” She looked up and saw an open chair next to Laney. Laney groaned. Too late now.
Keisha headed straight for her. “Hey there, Laney. Fancy meetin’ you here.” Keisha found that funny and chuckled at her own joke.
“Hi, Keisha. Yeah, what are the odds of that happening?” Laney rolled her eyes and glanced away. She hadn’t met any of the other ladies and almost all the chairs were full.
Sheila and another woman entered together, talking rather animatedly about something. They both quieted down when they realized everyone was already there, waiting. Together they sat down on the last remaining chairs.
Sheila began. “Welcome, everyone. Let’s open in prayer, shall we?”
Each woman bowed her head. Laney was a little surprised. She didn’t realize this was a religious house. Everything had happened so quickly, she’d not taken the time to find out what kind of safe house her friend ran. She listened, though she did not enter into prayer with the rest of the ladies.
“Lord, thank you for bringing each of these wonderful women and their children safely into our home. Father, I ask that you give us wisdom in every decision we make. I pray that we walk in your will and consider your ways in all that we do. Lord, if there is anyone here that does not know you personally and have a thriving, intimate relationship with you, I pray that you send the Holy Spirit to convict their hearts and draw them unto yourself. Please be with us now as we heal and grow together, giving of ourselves while learning to trust again. In your precious name, Jesus, Amen.”
Sheila continued, “Everyone, I’d love to introduce Laney to you. She arrived today and will be staying with us. Please make her feel welcome but remember how overwhelmed you were when you first arrived, so at the same time, give her a bit of space.”
Sheila looked to Laney. “Welcome, Laney.
“Now, we have some good news. Keisha has secured a job and is moving into a furnished apartment at the end of next week.”
There were quiet congratulations around the room. Although the goal was to become independent, not one woman in the room had complete peace about leaving the relative safety of the home. It was a bittersweet moment for most.
Keisha seemed confident and excited about being out on her own. “Yeah, I got me and my baby an apartment. An’ I got a job cleanin’ too. We goin’ places. Mmmm-hmmm. We ain’t goin' back to the hood. My baby gonna have a chance. He ain’t gonna be in no gang. He ain’t gonna take no drugs. He goin’ t’ school. Mmmm-hmmmm…he gonna make somethin’ a’ himself.”
Keisha looked around the room. “Don’ you all be looking like da mouse that da cat drug in. We gonna be fine. It’s all good. We got Jesus too. He ain’t lettin’ nothin’ bad happen to us. No way. You'll see.”
Laney quietly took everything in. One of the newer girls began to share her experience. Laney was horrified. It sounded as if they could have been married to the same man. She looked around the room, assessing each woman, trying to figure out her story. Each woman was different. Different colors, different heights, different weights, yet each of them had something very much in common. They had all been deeply and brutally hurt by those who were supposed to love them the most.
At 10:00 PM the group dispersed and Laney found herself standing before the bathroom mirror. She used the white washcloth to remove the makeup. The bruises were beginning to fade to yellow. The swelling around her eye had gone down enough that with makeup, she looked mostly normal. She took the cover up out of her makeup bag and tossed it into the trash. She would never put that stuff on her face again. She lifted her arm to examine her rib cage. This time he’d used his fist. Normally he used an open hand. Although it wasn’t the first time, she was going to make sure it was the last. She cringed as she slipped the nightgown Sheila had given her over her head. The pain had subsided, but was still very real. If only the pain piercing her heart would heal as quickly as her physical pain. The likelihood of that happening was next to nil.
Where did the real Laney go? The one who swore no one would hit her like her dad hit her mom? She was sure she’d never let it happen. Now look at her. Pathetic, homeless, helpless and running from a man who’d vowed to love her the rest of her days. What was she going to do? Her situation was grim, almost hopeless, yet here she was. Safe for the moment. Warm. Dry. Full stomach. Maybe there was something to all this God stuff. Who would have thought she’d be here, in this place, peaceful and silent with no hint of a storm about to hit. God, are you the reason I am here? Did you orchestrate all this? Do you really care about me?
Quietly she sat in the rocking chair, where she could see each of her children sleeping. She would savor this moment; this moment where everything precious to her was safe, out of harm's reach. She had wondered her whole married life if she would ever know peace again. It seemed as though peace was only one long drive away.
Chapter Five
Keisha eyed the new woman. She’s a uppity white woman if I ever seen one. She’s still scared. Keisha knew that just by looking at her. Mmmmm-hmmmm, yep, she scared alright. Lookin’ around the place like her man gonna jump outta the bush or somethin’. Lord, I better be prayin’ for this one. She hurtin’, Lord. Why some man be beatin’ on such a pretty thang as her, Lord? Me? I know I ain’t smart and pretty, but that on
e, she be fine. Why her man be treatin’ her bad? Keisha shook her head. I ain’t never gonna understand these things, Lord. Oh help her, Jesus.
Keisha went back to the task at hand. She had a lot to do before her move on Saturday. Even though she had acted all brave the night before, she was scared. Scared that Jamal would find her and scared that she would go back to him. Sometimes he could be so nice. And besides, who else would love her? Lord, Ms. Sheila say I gotta stop thinkin’ like that. Help me, Lord. She say he don’t love me. Love don’t hurt. I know she’s right, Lord. My brain gets all mixed up.
She looked at the form lying before her. It said “Budget” at the top. Keisha scrunched her eyebrows. I ain’t never had no budget before. I s'pposed to give these papers to Miss Sheila after lunchtime. They didn’t make much sense. She looked at Laney who was reading a book on the couch. She seems smart-like. Maybe she can help.
Keisha made her way to the couch and plopped down right next to Laney. “Whatcha’ readin’?”
Laney jumped and threw her book in the process. She would never get used to this woman. Every seat in the room was empty and she had to sit down right next to me. Hasn’t this woman ever heard of personal space? She picked up her book. “It’s called, "Pride and Prejudice," by Jane Austin. Ever heard of it?”
Keisha tilted her head and looked at the cover. “It don’t have no pictures in it? Nope, I can’t say as I have. Is it good?”
“Yes, it is. I enjoy this book very much. I brought it with me. It’s about hard times and feelings of despair, yet it also speaks of hope. I used to see myself in this book. Confused about what love is, and what love isn’t. Now, it takes me to a place where love isn’t disguised as lies and pain. This book is a special place I go to escape. I have read it 24 times.” Laney looked to Keisha, surprised she had shared so much.
“Um, well, that’s real nice, Laney. I ‘preciate that. It sounds like it’s a nice story.” Keisha glanced toward the table and her waiting paperwork. “Can you help me with somethin’? I’m s’posed to have this paperwork done to give to Ms. Sheila and it ain't makin’ no sense ta me.”
Laney followed Keisha’s gaze to the paperwork on the table. “Sure, show me what you’re doing. Maybe I can help.”
Keisha led the way to the table and handed the papers to Laney. “I’m s’posed to be makin' a budget, but I ain’t never had no budget. I don’ know what t'do.”
Laney smiled and started asking Keisha questions and helping her fill out the forms. Before they knew it, it was ten o’clock and time for Laney’s appointment with her advocate. Laney handed Keisha the papers. “We’ll finish these up as soon as I am done with my session, ok?”
Keisha took the papers and smiled at Laney. Maybe the pretty white lady ain't so uppity after all. She kinda nice. “Thanks, Laney. I mean that. I p’reciate it.”
Chapter Six
Laney didn’t know what to expect when she entered the small room used as the private counseling room. The woman sitting in one of the pink armchairs was tall and gangly. Her salt-and-pepper hair was shoulder-length and reading glasses sat on the tip of her nose, as if she looked down at everything and everyone. Everything else about her was loud and obnoxious. Laney took it all in; her brightly-colored gypsy skirt, matching shirt, the purple scarf tied around her neck, and her bright blue eye shadow.
Cyndi grinned at the seemingly well-put together young woman standing before her and stood up to greet her, “You must be Laney. Come on in and have a seat.”
Laney sat down in the chair opposite the one Cyndi had been sitting in and waited for her to continue. She wasn’t sure she was ready for this. Sharing feelings and secrets was meant for best friends in the eighth grade, not a grown woman whose secrets read more like the “Nightmare on Elm Street.” It was part of the deal. There was nothing she could do.
Cyndi watched a flood of emotions cross the features of this pretty woman. Lord, help me reach her. She has been hurt so badly and has hidden who she is for so long, she may not remember the person she used to be. “We are going to start off with prayer.” Cyndi bowed her head and began to pray.
Laney looked around the room while Cyndi prayed. This “prayer” thing was getting old. Did all these women really believe what they were saying? That some big powerful God in the sky who knows everything is going to save them? If that is what they really think, they must have all been hit up-side the head one too many times. If there was a God, he sure didn’t save her. Where was he when she needed him? When she was lying on the floor in a puddle of her own blood, where was he? Yeah, right. God is a fairy tale. The one thing her husband said that was true was that God was for weak-minded people who couldn’t handle their own problems. A crutch, nothing more. Hearing Cyndi winding down, she quickly bowed her head. She might as well give the appearance of being agreeable.
Cyndi got right down to business. “Laney, you are meeting with me for several reasons. One is to help you realize you are more than what you have been told you are. I want to help you remember who you used to be. The things that have been pushed so far back, the things about you that define who you are, your likes and dislikes. Let me guess. He told you how to style your hair. What clothes to wear. What you could eat. Who you could see. What movies you could watch. What books you could read. Places you could visit. Stores you could shop in. What groceries you could buy. And on and on.”
Taking a deep breath, she continued. “I want you to remember how you like to wear your hair. It’s time for you to become your own person again. Many people look at me like I am crazy. I wear bright, wild clothes that flow. I wear them because I like them. They make me happy. I didn’t always get to do that. When I walked away from my husband 10 years ago, it was an epiphany when I realized I was not an extension of my abusive husband.”
This information settled on Laney’s heart like a brick. She should have known this woman had been abused too. Yet…there was something about her. She didn’t look scared. She wasn’t nervous. She was confident. Laney wondered how long that took. She worked hard to give that impression. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t.
Cyndi continued. “You also must realize that what happened to you is not your fault. You did nothing to deserve this abuse. You didn’t say the wrong thing. You didn’t cook the wrong meal. You didn’t vacuum the wrong way, or any other number of things he claimed caused him to hurt you. A man chooses to cause pain. You are not at fault.” Cyndi paused. “Laney, you look distracted. Are you okay?”
Laney looked at the closed door, then at the window. She could see outside, but she couldn’t see her children. She could sense the panic starting to rise like the bile when her husband started his approach. She heard the background noise, she heard words, but they weren’t making sense. “Where are my children?” She felt hands on her. She fought. She felt tears, searing her flesh. Who was crying? “I need my children, where are my children?” More hands. “Leave me alone. Let go of me.” She felt as if she would burst, like a bomb had been planted deep in her chest, intermingling with the pain, just waiting for the trigger to trip. She screamed, “I want my children!”
Laney opened her eyes, unsure of where she was. She looked around, acclimating herself to the surroundings. Sitting next to her was her friend, Sheila and then she remembered. Awareness accompanied by panic flashed across her features.
Sheila quickly laid a hand on her arm, willing her to relax. “It’s ok. Your children are right here. They have been waiting for you to wake up.”
Tears of relief spilled as she quickly enfolded all three of her children in her arms, breathing in their scent. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Relishing the feel of their skin next to hers, the softness of their hair as she ran her fingers through it, the heat of their cheeks and forehead as she pressed her lips to their skin. She couldn’t, wouldn’t let them go. They were her lifeline. Without them, life was not worth living. The air around her would be poison if her children didn’t breathe it as well.
La
ney opened her eyes and watched Sheila quietly leave her to the safety of her children. She closed them again, and clung to the three life preservers that kept her afloat.
Chapter Seven
“That’s the last of it, Keisha.” Laney deposited the last box on the kitchen countertop in the small apartment that Keisha and her son, Junior, now called home.
Keisha looked around. It wasn’t much, but it was all hers. “Thanks, Laney-girl.”
“Only you could get away with calling me that.” Laney began taking dishes out of the boxes and ran some water to wash them up with. Scrunching her nose and holding one up she asked, “Where did these come from?”
“That big ol’ church down the street. They help out the shelter by donatin’ stuff. They real nice like that.”
“Well, these are real nice.” Laney rolled her eyes and started to laugh. In the center of the plate was a big rooster. She plopped the plate into the sink and bubbles flew up.
“Hey girl, you best watch what you’re doin’. You’re getting’ them bubbles all over my floor!”
Laney started laughing harder and flung a handful of bubbles in Keisha’s direction. Keisha retaliated and before they knew it, bubbles were everywhere and both of them had wet splotches all over their clothes. They collapsed on the floor in a fit of giggles.
Sheila watched, unnoticed, from the doorway. What a difference a week makes. Granted, the safety of this moment would be short-lived, evaporating when reality sank in, but for the time being, both women were free. Hopefully, they would live out their lives in freedom, free of abuse, fear and insecurity. They had a long way to go. Sheila prayed for them daily.
Forever Blessed (Women of Prayer) Page 3