Taylor Made

by Sherryle Kiser Jackson

  That’s right, I paid the price for you, Corey thought. They were on opposite ends of the kitchen, but they were in a standoff. Like in a western movie, they sized each other up.

  “Oh, whatever, Pill, you know what I mean,” he shouted.

  Didn’t she get the point? Rico had won out again. He had literally beaten him to the punch. No man should have to live in the shadow of another all his life.

  “Your cousin is dating M. Rose, the model I was styling. Did he tell you that? Heck, to her, they are practically married. I don’t even know why were discussing him.”

  Corey watched Pill as she placed the teacup on the counter. She grabbed a small pot from the pantry and began to fill it to half full with water.

  “When are we going to discuss him, huh? When are we going to do anything that First Lady Rawls suggested we do? I was in prayer while you were off in D.C. This relationship happens to be important to me. Working things out is important to me,” Corey said, throwing it back in her court.

  “The timing of the hair show was awful, I know, but what was I supposed to do?” She would have shrugged if it wasn’t for the pot of water she held in her hand.

  Corey was getting a clear picture of himself, but he turned a blind eye. He knew he should push through his insecurities like he was pushing through his back pain, but he wouldn’t let this go. “Rico is the reason you’re so mistrusting, isn’t he? In fact, he’s probably to blame for a number of problems we are having except you didn’t seem to have those problems with him. All I know is he had a heck of a lot to say about when the two of you were dating. Things you used to do. Seems like seeing you sparked a memory.”

  She stared at him as if he mentioned the devil in the midst of a love song. It took a lot of effort for her to set the pot down on the stove without dropping it. It also took awhile for her to close her mouth.

  “Wow, okay.” She rested against the stove. “And I thought I was in the one place I wouldn’t feel any condemnation from my past. What are you getting at, Corey? Do you want to know if I liked him, loved him, still love him? Do you want to know if I slept with him?”

  Corey stared at her unwaveringly. He wanted to say any answer was a good place to start, but he was afraid to hear her reply. “You better tell me something.”

  “He was my first, okay. I’m not proud of it, but I’m not studying Rico. I haven’t in over two years. Your cousin is a dog. He juggles women like he dribbles a basketball, in a steady and repeated pattern. You know that though, you were his wingman, right? I’m sure you dribbled a ball or two as well, but I’m not judging you.” She was yelling now, which was uncharacteristic for her. “One thing about Rico, though; he doesn’t come with any pretense, but you do. You were supposed to be my Christian knight in shining armor. You were the one who told me I could ask God for forgiveness, use the Dumpster to get rid of my toxins and my past, and be forgiven. I guess just not by my own husband.”

  She compounded his pain with her words. His Christian witness was wrecked, both on the job and at home. He knew that now. His pride wouldn’t allow her to play the victim, though. He was the victim.

  “I came home with two medals and a share in the trophy that now sits at Carmen’s Epic Beauty. Trust me when I tell you, I was in D.C. handling my business,” Pill continued. “It sounds as if you wouldn’t know anything about trust, though. You want to know the worst part? You were fully aware I dated Rico before you. Matter of fact, I was the one who thought it was a bad idea to hook up in the first place because of it. I knew you would throw this back in my face.”

  Sort of like how Rico threw it in my face, Corey thought.

  This was a defining moment. His mind was plagued with the words, Chocolate’s birthmark. Now, two more words stuck out in his mind, bad idea. It was time for him to speak. “Seems to me that this thing with Rico will always be between us. I will always wonder where your heart is at.”

  “Talk about mistrusting,” Pill said, preparing to storm out of the kitchen. “Rico is your hang-up, not mine.”

  Spasm and all, he caught her arm as she tried to walk by. “Well, how about this one? You can just tell First Lady on Monday we’ve assessed the past, and, as you put it, our relationship was all a bad idea.”

  Chapter 24

  Pill never thought she’d be stood up, at least not by her husband. Now she was sitting on the couch in First Lady Rawls’s office thumbing through the latest issue of Cosmopolitan. One headline caught her eye on the contents page, 5 Secrets to Keep from Him. Pill was willing to bet that how much money she has or how much debt she is carrying ranked among the top five. She turned to the page listed on the contents page to confirm her theory. How you spend your money was right up there with past hookups and flirtations.

  First Lady Rawls came back through the door and snatched the magazine out of her hand. She studied the cover curiously before tossing it behind her on her desktop.

  “Cosmopolitan, huh? Were you going to read that, then pull out Vogue too before telling me why you are here alone?”

  Pill chose to ignore the first lady’s inquiries, instead, at least in this moment, concentrating on what she knew for certain. “I never read Vogue. It’s at least 70 percent advertisement, which, in my opinion, has made them lose an edge in the urban market. Same ole designers, Kors, Ralph Lauren, taking up the same ole ad space. Heck, Marie Claire and InStyle are better than Vogue in cultural relevance.”

  First Lady thrust her palm forward toward Pill’s face, which made Pill chomp down on her words.

  “Let me stop you right there, girlfriend. Do I look like I care? You don’t need styling tips; you need life tips. You had better get your head out of the Cosmos literally and figuratively.

  “Where is your husband, Ms. Thang?” First Lady leaned in like a hard-nosed detective doing an interrogation.

  Pill shrugged her shoulders. This time she honestly didn’t have any idea. He went into work late on Mondays. This was their time. They had that argument, Pill thought, but did First Lady have to know about all that?

  “Girl, don’t make me commence to whoppin’ you upside your head this morning. The mere fact that you avoided my last question and are sitting here without an inkling of where your hubby is and don’t know why he is late is telling me that we have a lot of work to do.”

  Pill let out a heavy sigh and shrugged as she had flashes of their heated debate a couple of nights before. “We sort of got into a fight the night I got back from D.C. and haven’t really made up yet. He left this morning and told me he’d see me later. I just figured he’d meet me here.”

  That was it in a nutshell, minus her husband’s jealous obsession with her and his cousin. Being Rico’s “cousin” in front of M. Rose gave Rico an excuse to let his hugs and backward glances linger a little too long the few times she did see him in D.C. Corey was right; he had not changed, but she had.

  “How bad was the fight?” First Lady asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  “Worse than I thought, apparently. I honestly don’t know.” She folded one arm across her body to form an easel-type prop for the other arm holding her head. She remembered donning her brown and coral lingerie and cuddling up beside him in bed last night, thinking that would smooth things over. Corey had turned his back on her. He wouldn’t even look at her, let alone touch her.

  “How do you know when you’ve made up?” First Lady asked.

  Pill sighed and let her eyes roll upward as if trying to imagine what making up looked like. She resigned to a shrug and a heavy sigh.

  First Lady shifted her body weight and tried another approach. “You said you haven’t made up yet. How do you normally make up? Do you all apologize to each another? Do you go out on the town? Do you love on each another?” First Lady asked from her desktop perch.

  “Not hardly,” Pill said to any and all of those choices.

  “Oh, you really do have a problem. He doesn’t want to make love to you?” the first lady said in an incredulous tone.

>   “Usually, all the time. His default button is set for sex. We don’t even have to be on speaking terms for Corey to want some,” Pill said, her mind flashing back to the time Corey tried to force himself upon her in their hallway.

  This time, First Lady shrugged. “We are animals, and men are the most primitive. They seem to have a primal appetite for sex that must be fed.” She clapped her hands together into a praying stance. “I guess we can thank God that you don’t have a problem in that area.”

  “Well,” Pill hesitated, “I don’t know, First Lady. All our arguments roll into one another, and we never really make up. He gets mad about what I didn’t do or what I’ve done too much of. He rants and says something crazy or questions my integrity like the other night. Then I don’t get my chance to be mad and recover before he’s on me for sex. Then if I turn him down—”

  “It starts the cycle all over again,” First Lady said, easing beside her on the comfy couch.

  “Exactly,” Pill said, tapping out her frustration with the heel of her boots on the office hardwood.

  “You both are so stubborn. You need more than conflict resolution techniques. You need mediation, but not with me; oh no, I don’t have that kind of time. You both need to tap into the Spirit for an attitude adjustment.” She crossed her arms and legs in one swift movement. “Let me tell you, being mad gives you no reason to withhold sex from your husband. You need to pray that the mood hits you more frequently.”

  “The mood hits me plenty, but he messes it up. I could have the perfect plan for a romantic night mapped out in my mind, and without fail, that is the day he starts tripping.”

  “What kind of fairy-tale world are you living in? Nothing’s perfect. As a matter of fact, the lack of sex is as far from perfect as you can get. That should make you work that much harder to resolve your issues so you can get back to loving. The Bible says as married folk we shouldn’t deprive each other except by mutual consent and for a time. And I don’t mean an indefinite time.”

  “He thinks a night of great sex can smooth over everything. It doesn’t,” Pill mumbled. “Shoot, I don’t have time to be sprung. If that were the case, he would win every argument, hands down.”

  First Lady raised an eyebrow at Pill’s proclamation, then shook her head. “Listen to yourself. The child of God doesn’t buy into the dating standards of the world. I believed your husband when he sat here and said he wasn’t running a game on you when he met you. He didn’t just want to have sex with you in the beginning, and I am sure that’s not the case now either. The question is, do you believe him? He married you. It would be stupid to deprive yourself of the greatest gift God has for you and your husband as a married couple because of a power struggle. Now that would be a shame. Do I dare ask how long has it been?”

  “We had sex just before I went away; before that, it had been about four weeks or a month and a half.”

  First Lady stood up and staggered back and forth in her pointy Frye boots. Her actions were similar to Red Foxx when he was having a mock heart attack on the TV show, Sanford and Son. “And you’ve been married how long, six months? My husband would have had me on the altar asking the pastor who married us for a refund if we were like you.”

  Pill thought about what had been said. She would have to find the scripture First Lady was referring to for herself, Pill thought. And yes, she would need the Spirit to lead the way in the bedroom.

  “1st Corinthians 7:5, Ms. Thang. Do I have to show you the scripture?” she asked as if reading Pill’s mind and finding out she had been dared. “Think about it like this. You got your man stranded on an island. Sure, he’s use to eating prime rib and caviar, but if he goes without food long enough, he’ll become less discriminating. He’ll sample things he hasn’t tasted before; even maggots start looking good to him. Sure, Mister Man prefers to be intimate with you, but you leave your husband out there without lovin’ long enough, he’ll settle for maggots.”

  Pill shifted in her seat. Not Corey, she thought. He’s crabby, and yes, a little stubborn, but not a cheat. She had her share of cheats, most recently Rico; then a few others who strayed on her because they couldn’t wait on her virtue.

  “There is no love like God’s love. That’s for sure. We think we are doing something, but we are working on a limited understanding of what love can be. I believe the primary relationship between a man and his wife is the closest we get to replicating God’s love. And when we share ourselves the way God intended, honey,” First Lady closed her eyes and raised a hand up as if thanking God for the memory, “we catch a glimpse of real love, and it is beautiful. Think about that, Ms. Thang.”

  “I will,” Pill peeped.

  “So who is all this for?” First Lady asked, lifting Pill’s top leg up by the pinch hold she had on the toe of Pill’s ivory boots. “Surely not just for your husband. You’ve already snagged him.”

  Pill watched as First Lady Rawls dusted off her hands and sat down. She shrugged while looking at her watch. They had a little less than twenty minutes left in their hour session, and she already felt drained. “I guess I like to look nice.”

  First Lady studied Pill. “C’mon, Diva, the shoes, the clothes, the handbags? I love to look nice too. Truth be told, I look nice straight from the shower with a freshly laundered T-shirt and pants. I told you that I was just like you, but I know my schisms. I know that there are women in the congregation who would rather throw themselves at my husband than throw themselves on the altar. Lord, help me. I also know I am being critiqued from my head to my feet when I stand beside your pastor in the pulpit every week. Hey, and I rhyme.”

  Pill laughed as First Lady snapped her fingers in a “sister girl, I am too much” gesture. Then her expression turned solemn, and Pill shuddered to think what was coming next.

  “I feel inadequate sometimes. I can say that now. Who or what do you hope to gain when you glam up? Or who or what do you hope to hide?” Her questions were slow and measured.

  They both waited for an answer. To have all the things my mom never gave me, to prove I am worthy, were a few her heart served up. Pill didn’t dare speak them aloud. First Lady waited, tilting her head as if to say, “Well?”

  “Sometimes, I feel I need a new outfit, like to go to work, ’cause I know a fierce outfit gives people something to talk about, gives me something to contribute.” Fresh tears didn’t ask permission before shedding from Pill’s eyes. She battled to keep them from ruining her makeup. “I’m really not all that. I didn’t have a lot growing up, so now—”

  “You’re compensating just like your husband,” First Lady said.

  Pill squirmed. She felt the first lady’s proximity too close and her eye contact too intense. “People don’t want to know much more than the surface stuff about you anyway, just like you said about the women in our congregation.”

  “Is it that they don’t want to know us beyond the surface or do we just not want to open up and share a little of ourselves for fear of being hurt?” First Lady cradled Pill’s chin in her hand to prevent her from dropping her head. “Divadom comes with a cost.”

  Pill didn’t know if First Lady meant that literally or figuratively, but Pill let her know she understood by releasing her load. She told of the constant battles she and Corey have had over the family finances while the tears now flowed freely from her eyes. She even told the first lady about Silver Sliver and getting a little “happy” with the card during Hair Show weekend. She felt if anyone would understand, it was the original diva, Pat Rawls.

  Pill fell short of sharing the balance she not only carried on the card, but on her shoulders as well. Her first statement was $2,659, which was over her 2,500 limit. Pill knew she had been close to her limit and felt it was the card company’s stupidity for allowing her to go over the limit. That stupidity was causing her a monthly penalty though. With Corey already upset, she felt her debt would be the nail in the coffin if he ever found out about it. As First Lady advised, Pill would take care of it or shoul
d already have a working payment plan in place.

  First Lady shook her head and tsked. “So, first you castrate your hubby by withholding intimacy with your attitude, and then you amputate his legs at the ankles because a man with no resources surely has a hard time standing in this world.”

  As if a weather front moved in, the climate changed. First Lady’s tone was no longer supportive and understanding but slightly irritated and accusatory. Pill could feel a negative attitude coming over her as well. From her in-laws, Corey’s friends, to even her best friend, Shae, Pill always felt everyone worried about what she was doing or going to do to Corey. They almost felt sorry for him for having to put up with her. How did she become the sole bad guy in this relationship?

  “Philippians 4,” First Lady Rawls said, thrusting herself up on the three-inch heels of her boots again as if she no longer wanted to be beside Pill.

  “Huh?”

  “That passage was written for you. You will study it when you get home,” First Lady dictated. As she stood over her, Pill had the sudden urge to duck. She pointed a manicured finger right between Pill’s eyebrows. “Here comes the tough love. I had to learn it, but you need the crash course. People are made to be loved. Things are made to be used. Stop using your husband and start loving him; you’ve got enough things. God loves you too much to give you too much, and you’d be a fool to steal it. You’re gonna lose your husband, and for what? Death by debit? Does that make sense to you?”

  Pill’s barrier walls rose up, and her exterior hardened like a transformer. This is what I get for opening up and sharing my business. First Lady has the nerve giving advice with her platinum and diamond tennis bracelet, Pill thought

  Pill shook her own charm bracelet around on her petite wrist. She imagined that this was the kind of no-nonsense advice one received from her mother. She wasted a few minutes imagining what it would be like to have a mom and dad like Pastor and First Lady Rawls. This was the very thing she didn’t want to get into with these sessions. She used to wish for a new mom all the time. She earned no credit for wishful thinking.