Lady Arykah Reigns

by Nikita Lynnette Nichols

  Arykah couldn’t say for sure that Doctor Lovejoy was flirting with Lance, but she decided to go ahead and participate so she could get the heck out of that office, and her man away from that woman. Arykah would really hate to have to flip the desk over on the broad in their first session.

  “I was raped. I was beaten,” Arykah started. “It caused me to miscarry. Now I’m crazy, and that’s why we’re here.” Arykah looked at Lance. “Isn’t that right, Babe? Go ahead and tell Santana all about your crazy wife.”

  By saying her first name and putting special emphasis on it told Doctor Lovejoy and Lance that Arykah didn’t appreciate being there or the way Doctor Lovejoy had said Lance’s name.

  Doctor Lovejoy was taken aback by Arykah’s straightforwardness. She was caught off guard and didn’t know how to respond. She was confused. All she did was ask the couple how she could help them. “What just happened here?”

  Lance pulled on his necktie to loosen the knot. All of a sudden the walls closed in on him. He felt claustrophobic. Lance knew Arykah was going to put on a show, and he had to be ready for when she popped off. Clearly, he’d made a mistake by convincing Arykah to speak with a therapist. She kept telling him that she wasn’t ready, that she needed more time, that she would open up on her own. Lance wanted to leave the session and apologize to Doctor Lovejoy for wasting her time, but that would only cause him further embarrassment.

  “I’ll tell you what just happened here,” Arykah offered.

  Lance twitched in his seat and silently prayed. Lord, please write on her tongue. Sweat beads had formed on his brow.

  “The truth is,” Arykah started, “my husband is the head of our household. And because he’s the head, I’m obligated to do things he asks of me, even when I don’t want to. Like coming here today. I didn’t want to. But Lance insisted. So, let’s talk and get this session over and done with ’cause I gotta get to the nail shop.” And you need to get to DSW .

  “Okay,” Doctor Lovejoy said as she wrote the words, pissed off, mad, gonna be a handful, on her notepad. She looked up at Arykah. “I hear you, Ary . . . um, Mrs. Howell.” Doctor Lovejoy chose to call Arykah by her last name. Obviously calling Lance by his first name had set Arykah off. She was about to detonate.

  “Who are you angry at?” Doctor Lovejoy asked her.

  “She blames me,” Lance said.

  Arykah looked at Lance, then connected eyes with Doctor Lovejoy before staring out the window at the interesting waves again.

  Doctor Lovejoy asked the same question in a different way. “Who pissed you off?”

  Lance opened his mouth to speak but Doctor Lovejoy raised her palm to silence him.

  “Mrs. Howell, are you angry at your husband? Are you angry at the man who attacked you? Are you angry at God?”

  Arykah looked at Doctor Lovejoy. “All of the above.” She glanced out of the window at those waves. “All of the above,” she said in a very low voice almost speaking to herself. “All three of them pissed me off.” Arykah’s last words were just above a whisper, but Doctor Lovejoy and Lance had heard her clearly.

  Doctor Lovejoy wrote more words in her note-pad. “Tell me why you’re angry with God.”

  Tears dripped from Arykah’s eyelids. She didn’t look at Doctor Lovejoy. She kept her focus on the waves crashing against the shoreline. “Because God is omniscient. He knows everything. He saw it coming but didn’t stop it.” She began to rock back and forth in her chair. “God saw that man on my street. He saw him walk up my porch steps and watched him ring my doorbell.” Arykah stopped rocking. She turned her head to her right and looked her husband in his eyes. “You and God allowed that man to rape me.”

  All of the blood in Lance’s body turned cold. Chills ran down his back. From the moment Lance answered Arykah’s call on that dreadful day, he had felt guilty that he wasn’t home to protect his wife.

  Lance saw his home number flashing on the caller ID on his cellular telephone. “You miss me already, don’t you?” he joked upon answering the call.

  She was crying. She was coughing and choking to get the words out. “He hurt me.”

  Lance frowned. “Cheeks?”

  Arykah’s sobbing became louder. “I was calling for you. Where were you?”

  Still frowning, Lance didn’t have a clue what she was saying to him. “What?”

  Arykah screamed into the telephone. “He raped me!”

  Lance jumped up from his desk at church. “What?” He was already running from his office. “Baby, I’m on my way. I’m on my way, Cheeks!” When Lance ran past the church secretary’s desk, he yelled, “Sharonda, call the police and an ambulance to my house. Right now!”

  Lance ran down the church steps, out the door, and got into his car at the speed of lightning. He had tears in his eyes. The thought of a man violating his wife infuriated him. “Baby, hold on. I’m coming home.”

  Waiting for her husband to get to her, Arykah lay on the living-room floor moaning and crying into the phone. “Lance? Lance?” Her words were just above a whisper.

  “Cheeks!” Lance yelled into the telephone. She didn’t answer him. Lance was worried that Arykah had lost consciousness. “Arykah! Arykah!”

  Lance had blamed himself for not doing what he was called to do. Yes, he was the bishop of Freedom Temple Church of God in Christ, but he was also a husband. He didn’t protect his wife. He felt less of a man. “Cheeks, if I could go back and change everything that happened, on that day, I would. You know I would.”

  Doctor Lovejoy’s eyes grew wide. She wished Lance hadn’t spoken those words. But he’d said them so fast, she didn’t have time to stop him. She knew the session was over when Arykah jumped up from her chair and glared at Lance.

  “You can’t change it, Lance! You weren’t there to protect me!” she screamed. “You weren’t there! You weren’t there!” Arykah moved past Lance, opened the door, and ran out of the office crying hysterically.

  Lance leaned forward in his seat and placed his face in his hands. He exhaled loudly. “My God.”

  “Go after her,” Doctor Lovejoy said.

  Lance stood and exited the office. “I’m sorry,” he said over his shoulder.

  Arykah was already sitting in the passenger seat of their late-model Land Rover when Lance got to the parking garage. He opened the driver’s door, got inside, and looked at her. “Cheeks, I’m so sorry.”

  Arykah stared straight-ahead at the wall in front of them. She didn’t respond.

  He reached out to touch her left arm when he saw that she was shaking. “Cheeks?”

  Arykah snatched her arm away from his touch.

  “I’m really sorry, Babe.”

  “Let’s just go.” She wiped tears from her eyes.

  Lance started the engine and pulled out of the parking garage.

  They had been riding in silence for ten minutes before he glanced over at Arykah. “I shouldn’t have pushed. You weren’t ready to talk about it, and I kept insisting. I just thought that if you got your emotions out, things would get back to normal faster.”

  Arykah was looking out of the passenger-side window. She didn’t respond to him. As Lance drove, she watched people walk past all of the showcase windows on Michigan Avenue. Lance wanted to do something to cheer her up. He always kept a wild card in his back pocket for when Arykah was in a foul mood. “I feel like spoiling my wife today,” he said. He glanced over at her with a smile. “How about we stop at Macy’s? Let’s see how long it’ll take you to put a dent in their shoe department?”

  When she didn’t react, Lance frowned. That was the first time Arykah hadn’t been fazed when he mentioned shoes. He knew then that something was really wrong. More wrong than he had thought.

  “Are you hungry, Cheeks? We’re not too far from the Cheesecake Factory.”

  Nothing from her.

  Lance glanced at her again. “Don’t they have the banana cheesecake you’re always raving about? That’s your favorite, right?” Lance chuckled when
he recalled that Arykah always ate her desserts before her meals whenever they dined at restaurants.

  Still no response. No facial changes, no body movements. Nothing.

  The only thing Arykah loved more than shoe shopping was eating. Especially a sweet treat. Lance thought for sure that he’d get her hyped up for stilettos or something delicious to eat. When she didn’t respond to either, he silently prayed, Lord, please bring my wife back.

  “That’s him!” Arykah hollered out. She pointed to a man walking along Michigan Avenue. “That’s him, Lance! That’s the guy who raped me!”

  Lance slammed on the brakes and pulled over to the curb. He saw the man Arykah was pointing at. He wore a gray sweatshirt with stonewashed blue jeans. Lance understood why Arykah would think the man was the guy who attacked her. He was dark and bald just like Clyde Trumbull. “No. That’s not him, Cheeks. We got the guy, remember? Clyde Trumbull. Mother Pansie’s nephew.”

  “Oh,” was all Arykah said. She settled back in the passenger seat.

  Arykah wasn’t present at church the Sunday morning when Detective Cortney Rogers arrested Mother Pansie for soliciting her nephew, Clyde Trumbull, to rape and beat Arykah at her home. After the fiasco at church, Lance came home and told Arykah what happened at Freedom Temple and that Clyde Trumbull had been arrested too.

  Lance proceeded to drive down Michigan Avenue. “So, what do you wanna do tonight? How about we take in a movie?” He glanced at her. “You feel up to it?”

  “That’s him!” Arykah shrieked. She pointed to another bald, dark-skinned man. He wore a navy blue suit and carried a brown briefcase. “That’s him, Lance! That’s the guy!”

  At that moment, Lance knew for sure that Arykah was in trouble. He had lost her. Her mind was gone. His voice quivered. “That’s not him, Cheeks.”

  She pointed to a different dark, bald man wearing a beige button-down shirt with khaki pants. “That’s him! That’s him, Lance! That’s him!”

  Lance grabbed Arykah’s left hand and squeezed it tight. Tears flowed from his eyelids. His vision became blurred as he drove his wife home. Between Doctor Lovejoy’s office and their home, Arykah had accused a total of seven dark, bald men as being her attacker.

  Two

  The next morning, Arykah emerged from her closet dressed in a pale pink, floor-length sari wrap, Diane Von Fürstenberg dress. Made up of Viscose Georgette material, the dress was airy, and it blew gracefully behind her as she walked. She had fallen in love with the dress when she saw it in a bridal magazine. Her eyes were drawn to the gold silky soft bamboo pipe stitching along the neckline, wrists, and hem. “What do you think of this one, Bishop?” The gown was the second outfit Arykah had tried on and modeled for Lance. Being the first lady of a church, Arykah took pride in her dress code.

  In his usual position for Arykah’s Sunday-morning fashion show, Lance lay back on the bed with his hands suspended behind his head against the headboard. Arykah’s teacup-size Yorkie, Diva Chanel, was lying on the bed next to him. “It’s stunning, Cheeks.” He called her by the nickname he’d given Arykah because her backside resembled two puffy cheeks. Lance thought about his words. “Correction, you’re stunning in that dress.”

  Arykah opened the long flap of the dress to reveal 6¾-inch, peep-toe, satin, pale pink platform stilettos. “Boom! Pow! Bang!”

  Lance laughed out loud. That was the Arykah that he loved. In the five months that they’d been married Lance had mastered a way to bring Arykah out of a funky mood. All he had to do was mention the word stiletto and her attitude would immediately change for the better.

  Three months ago when Arykah and Lance had an argument, she had gone to bed angry. At four a.m., Lance had gotten up and walked around to Arykah’s side of the bed. He bent over and whispered, “Stiletto.”

  Arykah rose up quickly with her eyes closed, said, “I’ll take it in a size eight,” then fell back into a deep sleep.

  Lance fell to the floor laughing. When he told Arykah, the next morning, what she did in her sleep, she didn’t believe him. Lance got his cellular phone and brought it to her. He had recorded the whole thing. When Arykah saw herself on video she had to laugh too. And she had completely forgotten what she was angry with Lance about.

  “I have a beautiful wife,” Lance said, after Arykah stripped and laid her dress on the bed. She stood before him naked.

  Arykah smiled shyly and walked away because she saw something in Lance’s eyes. She knew what was coming next. She grabbed her robe from her closet and put it on, then went into the bathroom and sat at her vanity. Diva Chanel jumped off the bed and followed her.

  “We’re in the clear now,” Lance said from the bedroom.

  Arykah squeezed her eyes shut. He wants to have sex. It wasn’t that Arykah wasn’t attracted to Lance. She loved her husband very much. In her mind, Lance trying to seduce her meant that he wanted to be in charge of her body just like Clyde Trumbull had been in charge when he forced himself on her. Arykah wanted to tell Lance that she’d be willing to make love to him if he didn’t use his hands to touch her, but she knew he’d never go for that. Lance enjoyed grabbing her, squeezing her, caressing her, and fondling her. Arykah felt very different than she did weeks ago. Then she was willing. Her hormones had shifted.

  Lance came into the bathroom and stood behind her. He put his hands softly on her shoulders. At his touch, Arykah jumped. She didn’t want to be touched.

  “Your doctor gave us the go-ahead, Cheeks.” It had been five weeks since Arykah’s rape and Lance craved her touch, her warmth, the feel of her body against his. When he tried to hug Arykah, she’d pull away from him. Whenever he tried to kiss her, she would turn her face away. They shared a California king-size bed, and Arykah made sure to leave enough space for four more people between herself and Lance.

  “I miss our showers together in the morning,” he said glancing at her reflection in her vanity mirror. “I miss my wife.”

  Arykah looked at Lance in the mirror. “I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m right here.”

  Arykah may have been present in the flesh, but her mind and spirit could not be found. She had checked out. She completely dismissed what happened in the car on Michigan Avenue the day before. She refused to talk about it.

  “Join me in the shower,” Lance pleaded. Their lovemaking on Sunday mornings always started in the shower.

  Arykah picked up a bottle of Neutrogena hand and feet moisturizer and poured a small amount in the palm of her hand. “I’ve already showered. Besides, if we get something started now we’ll be late for church, Lance. I’ve been gone for five Sundays. It’s my first day back at church, and I don’t wanna be late.” Arykah saw Diva Chanel sniffing around the bathroom. “And I still have to dress Diva Chanel.”

  Lance hung his head and turned away from Arykah. She watched as he started the water in the shower before stepping inside. She felt horrible that she denied her husband, but she couldn’t get past the fact that Lance wasn’t home when she was attacked. He should’ve been there. Lance could have prevented her from losing their baby. Everything was his fault. The rape. The beating. The miscarriage. It was all Lance’s fault. And for some unexplained reason, she just didn’t want to be touched.

  After massaging the moisturizer into her hands and feet, Arykah exited the master bedroom. She ascended the spiral staircase and entered the first bedroom on the left, Diva Chanel’s room. The Yorkie followed her master closely. Arykah sighed when she saw that the room was a mess.

  “Diva Chanel,” she started. “This room is terrible.”

  There were lots of toys next to the pink plush princess doggie bed. Stuffed teddy bears, small stuffed baby dolls, and small toy balls were scattered all around the room.

  Arykah picked up the toys, teddy bears, and dolls and placed them inside a small pink netted basket. “How many times have I told you that you gotta keep your room decent and in order?”

  Diva Chanel’s tail wagged as she watched Arykah put away her toys. When th
e room looked tidy enough for her liking Arykah went to Diva Chanel’s closet and opened the door. She stood before three racks filled with petite clothing for dogs.

  “Okay, Miss Diva Chanel,” Arykah said. “Today is your debut at church.”

  Monique and Adonis had bought Arykah the teacup-size Yorkie after she was attacked. They felt the dog would help distract Arykah’s mind. She fell in love with the dog the first moment she saw her. Arykah and Diva Chanel had become joined at the hip.

  “Mommy wants her little girl to be very pretty,” Arykah said to Diva Chanel. She selected a small pink and yellow polka-dot dress with a small purse attached by Velcro. “This will be cute with the pink ribbons in your hair.”

  An hour later, the only thing Lance could do was shake his head from side to side when he saw Arykah and her mini-me dressed in matching pink and yellow outfits. “Oh my God. I have two of them.”

  Arykah kissed the tip of Diva Chanel’s nose. “Isn’t she cute, Lance?”

  He exhaled. “Arykah, you’re so extra.”

  “You’re extra right, and I extra agree.”

  “I didn’t think you were serious. You can’t take Diva Chanel to church.”

  She looked at Lance in his eyes. “Of course I can.”

  “Dogs do not belong in church.”

  “Shhh,” Arykah silenced Lance. “Do not call her that. She has feelings.”

  Lance frowned. “Call her what? A dog ? That’s what she is. She has four legs, a snout, she’s hairy all over, and she has a tail. Diva Chanel is a dog, Arykah, and she’s not going to church.”

  Arykah glared at Lance. “She is going to church.”

  Time was of the essence. Lance couldn’t spare another minute arguing with her. “You’re gonna leave her upstairs, in your office, right?”

  “Lance, she fits right in my handbag. No one will even know she’s there.”

  Lance exhaled. “So, what if someone else wants to bring their dog to church?”

  “Everybody can’t do what I do.” Arykah walked past him. “Come on. I have a meeting at ten o’clock.”