by E. N. Joy
“What the . . .” she questioned as her pants became drenched. Then she felt as though her entire insides were dropping out of her. From that point on, it was like she was matted to the bathroom ceiling looking down at herself. There was water, there was blood, there was pain, then there was a baby.
“Shhh. Shhh.” The girl rocked the baby. “Shhh, before someone hears and catches us, baby. Shhh,” she cried. And then what happened next is something she never thought she’d forget. It’s something she never imagined a fall and a bump to the head would ever make her forget.
The scissors in her book bag had come in handy. The book bag itself had come in handy. It’s what she would use to tote the baby from the bathroom to the dumpster. The scissors were what she would use to detach the baby from her. It was the scissors she used when she realized her teeth weren’t sharp enough. But that was after she’d used up practically every paper towel to clean up the mess she’d made delivering her baby in the bathroom stall.
She was so scared, so afraid, and there was no one she could turn to. Mr. Leary wasn’t around anymore. He’d packed up and left once her belly started to grow, leaving her to bear the cross alone. But now, as the young girl, now a full-grown woman, waited outside of her mother’s house, Mr. Leary—Broady—was finally going to carry his weight.
Slamming close the sun visor, Lorain ran her hands across her forehead. She was soaking wet. Just thinking back about that day had made her feel as though it was happening all over again. She had to get herself together, because she knew she’d have to relive it at least two more times; one time when she told her mother, and the other time when she told Unique.
“I gotta get myself cleaned up,” Lorain said to herself as she exited the car. She’d use the spare door key to her mother’s house to let herself in so that she could use the bathroom.
With keys in hand, Lorain unlocked her mother’s door and went in, heading toward the first-floor bathroom. Suddenly, she heard a noise coming from the upstairs that made her heart skip a beat. Stopping in her tracks, Lorain paused to see if she could hear the noise again. There was silence, so she continued on her way. Right before she made it to the bathroom, she heard the noise again. This time, she made a quick detour into the kitchen. She shuffled around looking for a makeshift weapon. During the process, she heard the noise again and grabbed the iron skillet that always sat on her mother’s stovetop. With the skillet gripped in her hand, she closed her eyes and said a quick prayer.
“God, cover me in the blood of Jesus. Send your angels to fight for me and protect me right now in the name of Jesus.” She opened her eyes and cautiously crept toward the staircase, but once again she was stopped in her tracks at the vision that appeared at the top landing.
“Lorain, what are you doing here?” It was her mother. She was wrapped in a silky white robe trimmed in lace and was tying the belt around the robe as she spoke.
“Mom? You’re . . . you’re home. But I thought . . .” Lorain’s words trailed off once she realized that perhaps her mother had been inside and simply hadn’t heard her knock at the door. Maybe the trip had tired her out just that much. On top of that, Lorain hadn’t even thought to check the garage to see if her mother’s car was parked inside.
“Honey, is everything okay?” Eleanor asked her confused-looking daughter. “What’s wrong? Why are you here?”
“Well, I was . . . I was waiting for you and Broady to come back, but I see you’re already here.” Lorain swallowed. “I wanted to talk to you both, together, and what I have to say, Mother, it really can’t wait.”
“Then it won’t have to.” Eleanor looked at her bedroom door and signaled with her hand. Seconds later, Broady appeared next to Eleanor, tying his robe. “As you can see, Broady is here.” She looked up at him with a huge grin on her face. “As a matter of fact, he’s here to stay.” Eleanor turned back to Lorain. She lifted her hand to display a beautiful wedding band to match the engagement ring that had already rested on her finger. She then exclaimed, “We got married!”
Chapter Thirteen
Paige practically had to peel herself from the leather seat of her car and drag her body to the door. She was beat; worn-out. Two employees had been out with the swine flu, so today at work, she had to go above and beyond the call of duty. She did everything from inventory to selling tickets at the ticket window to popping popcorn. It was days like this when she felt she was being gypped by being a salaried employee.
When she walked into the house it was dark, but she could smell the delicious aroma of whatever it was that Flo had prepared and left warming on the stove. Only thing was, Paige was too tired to even eat. The kitchen’s ceiling lights were off, but the overhead stove light was on. Paige followed the glow to the simmering pot. She lifted the lid and found a concoction of turkey, green beans, peas, corn, carrots, and potatoes, all in a creamy juice.
“Must be that turkey hash Flo was telling me about,” Paige said to herself as she inhaled the aroma. “Mmmm. Smells good enough.” She decided that maybe, after her shower, she’d have to try some.
Before moseying to the bedroom, Paige made a pit stop in the living room to look at the mail. There were no lights on in the living room at all. She made her way over to the table where they always placed the mail and turned on the lamp. Then she picked up the four envelopes and flipped through them, took one out and placed the other three back on the table. They were bills. Blake handled all the bills.
With her single letter in hand she turned around to walk to the bedroom. “Jesus!” she yelled out in fear. “Wha-what are you doing sitting here in the dark?” she asked Blake.
Her blood was pumping through her veins rapidly and her heart was trying to keep up. She’d ordered a blood pressure machine. Her doctors had told her that sometimes high blood pressure goes hand in hand with diabetes. As preventative maintenance, she’d decided to keep tabs on her blood pressure so she’d ordered a machine. It hadn’t arrived yet, but she was sure that if it had and she’d taken her blood pressure at that very moment, they’d have to take her to the ER.
“I . . . I didn’t even realize you were home,” Paige stuttered. “I guess I was just so hell-bent about getting in here and resting that I didn’t even pay attention to the fact that your car was parked in the garage.”
“That’s because it isn’t,” Blake said in a dry tone. “It got towed. I had to double park downtown because I was running late for the mediation; you know, the one we had set at a special evening hour so that both you and I could attend? The one where we’d meet with my mother’s attorney and convince them how absurd this entire lawsuit is? You were supposed to meet me at my office. We were going to go together.”
Blake remained seated in the chair he’d been sitting in like a statue. He didn’t even look up at Paige while he spoke. He was utterly disgusted. “I waited for you a half hour in the parking lot at my office. I called your cell.”
“You know I don’t keep my cell on at work,” Paige reminded him. “It sets a bad example for all the younger kids who work there—”
“I called your job. I hit zero after the long drawn out recording and was transferred to your line. I got your voice recording. I left you a message.”
Paige sighed. “Baby, I am so sorry.” She made her way over to Blake. “I didn’t have time to sit down and check my messages. You wouldn’t believe the kind of day I had.” She approached him and went to rest her hand on his shoulder. “Two of my employees were out with the—”
SWAT!
Paige’s words were immediately halted by the sting she felt across the backside of her hand.
“The day you had? I wouldn’t believe the day you had?” Blake mocked as he stood.
Paige was looking at him as if he’d lost his mind. Had that man just smacked her hand off of his? Hard?
“How about you think about somebody else besides yourself for once?” he spat. “My day was pretty jacked up too, and you not showing up to support me made it even worse.” Bl
ake paced back and forth as he spoke what was on his mind. “You knew that if I didn’t show up to that mediation the trial would move forth. What? Do you want to see me risk losing all that money to that no good . . .” Blake tightened his lips, balled his fist, and shook his head. “Ugghhh.”
“So you didn’t make it to the mediation?” Paige was afraid to ask because she could pretty much tell by her husband’s mood what the answer was going to be.
“I was almost an hour late. The traffic on 70 was horrific. I couldn’t find any parking meters, the lot across from the courthouse was full, and I couldn’t risk running three blocks from the parking garage, making me even later than I already was.” He shook his head. “By the time I got in the building, my attorney was down in the lobby waiting on me. He’d just walked Miss Turner out.”
“Baby, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.” Paige was sincere. Despite the fact that she wanted to be angry as her hand throbbed, she felt bad. Blake could possibly lose everything he’d worked so hard for all these years, and all because he’d been sitting around waiting on her. Waiting on her to be the supportive wife she’d promised him she’d be. How could she expect him to be the type of husband she wanted him to be if she couldn’t even be the type of wife he wanted her to be? The type of wife who couldn’t even follow a simple request?
Perhaps he had every right to be angry with her. He could only get better if she got better. “Let me make it up to you,” Paige said as she placed her arms around Blake. She prayed that the love and warmth of her embrace melted the coldness he was feeling toward her at the moment.
Blake took a deep breath, and then paused for a minute. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. This is just too much for me right now.”
“I know, and that’s why I promise from now on that I’m going to be here to help you bear some of it.”
Blake exhaled. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He kissed her on the forehead.
Although Paige was willing to accept his apology, something inside of her needed clarity on just exactly what Blake was apologizing for. Was he apologizing for snapping at her? For slapping her hand? Or everything?
“Babe, I’m willing to accept your apology . . .” she looked him in his eyes, “. . . if you mean it and promise to never do it again.”
Blake pulled away. “Honey, you know I get a little edgy sometimes. I’ll try to watch my tone and not come off on you so—”
“That’s not what I mean,” Paige interrupted. “Babe . . . you hit me.” She held up her hand.
Blake let out a nervous chuckle. “I didn’t hit you. I was . . . I was just merely pushing your hand away. I was agitated, that’s all.” He threw his arms around Paige. “I’d never hit you; not intentionally. I’m sorry.” He took her injured hand and began planting kisses all over it. “I’m so sorry if I hurt you.” Eventually his kisses went from her hand and up her arm. “Do you believe me? Do you forgive me?” Now his kisses were on her neck.
Paige rolled her head back in ecstasy at the kisses being planted on her neck by her husband. And just like that, any anger, bitterness, or hesitation she’d felt toward him disappeared.
Leading the way to the bedroom, Paige felt that if making up made her feel this way, then what harm could a little fighting be? Taken in by the rapture of her husband’s body taking over her, a very sick pattern was beginning to form, but Paige was too caught up in physical bliss to even realize it.
Chapter Fourteen
“It’s good to see you two back in counseling,” Pastor stated, welcoming the couple into the office.
“I hope you didn’t give up on us, Pastor,” Blake said as he embraced the New Day Temple of Faith pastor.
“Oh, no, sir. God didn’t give up on me, so I’m not going to give up on you, Brother Blake. How are things going with you two anyway?” Pastor sat down in a chair across from the couch while motioning for the couple to sit. “And by the way, congrats on the magazine article.”
“Thanks, Pastor,” Blake nodded.
“And to answer your question, things have been going great, Pastor,” Paige said while smiling like a schoolgirl in love. She still had the way Blake had loved on her last night on her mind. And although they’d made up, Paige still felt it necessary in her spirit to resume counseling. Fortunately, Pastor had been able to squeeze them in during the lunch hour.
“Well, praise God. Oh, I guess before we get started, we better open up in prayer,” Pastor suggested, then stood back up. Blake and Paige followed suit.
The pastor extended both hands to the couple. Still smiling, Paige extended one hand to Blake and the other to Pastor. “Ouch!” Paige immediately flinched upon Pastor grabbing her hand.
“Oh, my, I’m sorry,” Pastor apologized. “Did I shock you or something?” That’s when Pastor lifted Paige’s hand and noticed the slight bruising. Because she was a thick girl to begin with, the slight swelling was hard to detect. “What . . . what happened here? Do you need some ice?” Pastor was very concerned.
“I hit it against the . . .” Paige had started.
“She slammed it in the . . .” Blake had started simultaneously with Paige.
They both looked at each other nervously.
“I slammed it in the . . .” Paige had started to validate Blake’s lie.
“She hit it against the . . .” Blake had started to validate Paige’s lie.
They both stopped and looked at each other nervously.
Pastor shot them each a peculiar glare. “Let’s pray.” After praying, Pastor caught both Blake and Paige off guard. “Uhh, Blake, do you mind if I counsel you guys separately? I’ll start with you first.” Pastor looked at Paige. “Daughter, could you just step out for a few minutes?”
“Uh, well, uh,” Paige stammered. “Pastor, we really don’t have much time. We’re both on our lunch hour. And I thought we were doing couple’s counseling, not individual counseling.”
“Go on, sweetheart. It’s fine,” Blake said to his wife with a reassuring nod. “Why don’t you go to the church kitchen and ice that hand that you just slammed in the car door on the way in here.” Blake smiled while his eyes told Paige to play along.
Pastor wasn’t missing a beat.
“Oh, uh, yeah, right. Ice . . . for my hand . . . yes, that I slammed. Yes, slammed just now . . . on the way in here.”
“Go on now.” Blake did everything but push Paige out the door before she blew their cover.
“Okay, I’ll see you in a minute.” Paige closed the door behind her. With her hand still on the doorknob she took a deep breath. “Oh, God,” she sighed. She looked down at her hand. Pastor had just ignited a pain in it by squeezing it. She walked toward the church kitchen for ice.
On her way, it dawned on her that she and her husband had just told a bold-faced lie to their pastor . . . in God’s house. But what really had her stumped was why? Why was she lying about what had happened to her hand? Why did she even feel the need to lie in the first place? Blake hadn’t meant it. That’s what he’d told her. Besides that, he’d apologized, and she’d forgiven him just like the Bible had told her to do. People lie when they are trying to cover up something. So what was she trying to cover up?
Paige found a plastic grocery bag in one of the kitchen cabinets and filled it with ice. She then placed the bag on her hand.
“You shouldn’t put the bag of ice directly on your skin,” a voice said to Paige. “Put something in between it, like a paper towel or something. Here.” Nita tore off a paper towel from the holder and handed it to Paige.
Paige hesitated before taking it. “Thank you.”
“No problem. You see, I got a lot of experience covering up bruises.”
Paige immediately took offense. “Who said I was covering up anything? I’m not trying to cover it up. It was an accident. I slammed—”
“Whoa.” Nita put her hands up as if to halt Paige’s words. “I never said you were. I said I got a lot of experience covering up bruises.”
Paige
cleared her throat. “Oh.” She turned her attention to her hand, feeling a little embarrassed for letting loose like she’d just done.
Nita looked down at Paige’s hand as well. “So you were about to say you slammed your hand?”
“Uh, yeah, uh, in the door. The car door. Just now—on my way here.”
“That happened to me before too. I slammed my hand in the car door. I opened the door and hit myself in the head. I burned my hand on a hot pan. I fell from a ladder. Let’s see, what other excuses did I make up for all the times my husband hit me?” Nita quickly looked at Paige. “Again, I’m just talking about me here. Not you.” She twisted her lips and stared up as if thinking. “Oh, yeah, I fell on a rake. I dropped a box on my foot. I fell down the steps. I—”
“Sister Nita,” Paige interrupted, “is there a point to all of this? I mean, I’m not trying to be rude or anything, but . . .” Paige shrugged.
“No, I guess there really isn’t a point to it. I just felt led to talk about it all of a sudden. I guess seeing you there with that ice pack on your hand brought back memories.”
Paige sighed. She closed her eyes. She took a deep breath. She counted to five, and then opened her eyes. She was hoping that Nita would be gone because she was tired; she was tired of her popping up, sticking her nose in her business. She was tired of her indirect accusations. But she was really hoping that Nita would be gone so that she wouldn’t have to say to her what she was about to say.
“Look, Sister Nita. I’m saved, not stupid. I know what you’re thinking, making all your little slick and snide comments. But you’re wrong, dead wrong. Now I know you are a . . . what do you call it . . . domestic violence survivor. But you can’t run around thinking that every time one of the sisters shows up with a bump or a bruise that their husband did it. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate your concern. I really do. But like I told you before, there is nothing to be concerned about. Blake is—”
“Blake is what?”