“It is what it is,” Pill said, feeling that if Corey was done, then there was nothing she could do.
“Read Philippians four and pray that you’ll get your own epiphany,” First Lady said, taking her seat behind her desk for the first time this session.
All of a sudden, Pill wished she didn’t come off so dismissively because First Lady looked as if she was ready to dismiss her without any details in her action plan.
“Are you mad at me, First Lady?” Pill said, surprised at how her voice quivered. “I am here, and he is not.”
“Ask yourself why that is.” She looked at her watch and scribbled a few notes on the pad in front of her before looking up. “I’m not mad, just tired of couples that waste my time. Six months in, the fight has just begun. The devil will continue to attack you both individually. He’ll attack your marriage like anything else. You didn’t do the very basics of your job. Then you sit here all nonchalant. If you give up this easily, then you couldn’t handle the work in the first place.”
Those sounded like fighting words to Pill. Her thoughts must have shone on her face because it led First Lady to rise up from her seat with hands on her hips. Pill wasn’t completely sure that a rumble or a good old-fashioned whopping wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for their feisty First Lady, so she resigned to chill out on her flippant comments and tell-all body language.
“Yeah, I said it. Corey Taylor is your husband. Whose job is it to take care of him if not yours? You have to be his friend. You have to be his lover. You have to be his champion. Be his priest, be his public defender and heroine. Sometimes it’s thankless, but it’s your job.” She shook her head as if she wasn’t accepting any excuses. “Girlfriend, do your job. Divorce is not an option.”
Pill thought about the conversation she had with her Morning Glories about their husbands and marriages that were decades long. First Lady was right when she called it a job. Pill was just not certain if she could handle hers.
She let her head fall back until the nape of her neck rested on the overstuffed cushion. She sat silently, knowing there was no way to relay her confusing mix of feelings.
“Want to know something? I wasn’t mature enough to love my husband, your pastor, not on my own, especially when we first got married,” First Lady confided. “I wasn’t selfless enough. Maturity comes when you ask God for help. Stop being that little girl, that babe, and ask for help. Compassion and compromise in a marriage don’t come naturally to us divas, and our fierceness is not gonna get us by. I was insecure when I was your age, and it was eating me up. But God loved me enough to put me in the view of a wonderful man who wanted to marry my heart and soul as well as my body and fly facade. Now we are in covenant to grow and mature together. My prayer is that you and your hubby do the same, but you’ve got work to do.”
“But Corey,” Pill stammered. “He’s holding on to things, barely speaks to me—he’s pulling away.” How does he get away with not doing his job?
“Buddy boy has got work to do too. He’d better hope God or somebody gets to him before I do for not showing up here today. Don’t worry about that right now. You need to give him time and continue to pray for him.” First Lady moved right back to Pill’s side.
From changes in temperament to changes in proximity, Pill questioned if the first lady didn’t suffer from her own disorder. She wondered if she came off flighty as well.
“You, my stylish sista, have got to do some internal work though. You’re good on the outside. No more shopping, please, until you work out those debts. I shop ’til I drop too and hide it so Pastor won’t be overwhelmed by all my stuff, but the money is legitimately mine.” She pointed at Pill, then shook her index finger as if trying to figure something out. “There is something, a void, insecurity, or a secret. I don’t know what it is, and I’m not sure I want to know what would make you self-sabotage your sacred vows. It’s up to you to find it and tackle it. If you’re willing to work on and save your marriage, I’ve got an assignment for you.”
Chapter 25
“I want you to write your thoughts and feelings out in a journal, but every entry must start with either ‘I hope,’ ‘I wish,’ or ‘I pray.’ Don’t question the relevance, girlfriend, just do it.”
That was the assignment. Somehow by her journaling, Pill was supposed to reveal how and why she was undermining Corey’s godly authority in their household. The first lady called it a heart service, or a way to get in tune with her soul. As she stared at the empty journal, she wondered if her heart was empty as well. She could think of nothing to write.
No wonder Corey is so miserable, Pill thought. That, and the fact that she had been so willing to throw down her morals to be with Rico, but had not been so open with the man that was now her husband. It was not that she desired or even loved Rico more. Sex was a requirement in a relationship with a dude like Rico, a connection with Christ was not. That made all the difference between her loving Rico’s power and influence, and loving and respecting Corey, the man.
She wished Corey knew that any thoughts or feelings she had for Rico were locked into a compartment in her mind labeled her past. Pill promptly took out the red and white journal and wrote just that.
That part of her subconscious past was right next to the compartment with her thoughts and feelings about another person she had yet to deal with. That was the secret vault First Lady was speaking about. It was so easy just to open the door to that vault and blame it all on her mother. It was more complicated than that—way more painful. Pill failed to see how it all related to the adult life she had created, so she sealed it shut a long time ago.
Pill stared at her wide cursive script that she had just written and felt like she did when she was in high school and had a term paper to write. She had writer’s block.
She scratched her forehead with her thumbnail as she reasoned this assignment could not be rushed. She looked around her bedroom for evidence that her husband lived there. She was sure he had laid down next to her the night before just like she was sure he’d risen this morning to go to work. Other than that, their cohabitation was sterile—standard issue—with no life, no Corey and Pill. He ate her meals. He answered all her questions except one. Was that the deal breaker?
He was punishing her, just like she knew he would in the beginning, for having a past he didn’t approve of. Now, First Lady Rawls was punishing her by giving her this assignment. Pill flipped the pages of the journal, wondering if she was expected to fill all of them. A typed description of the assignment fell out of the back. She read what it said: Many Christians are filled with random wishes that we feel are out of our control. Faith kicks in when we begin to hope. Our prayers then move us to a place where we can operate in the power to call things as though they already were.
Pill wanted so badly to operate in the power of faith. She remembered First Lady had also tasked her with studying Philippians, chapter four. She found that particular passage in Corey’s bedside NIV Bible and read it, but came back to the middle of the chapter to the verses that spoke to her the most.
I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.
It was all inside of her, begging to be released, the stories of lack and of want. She wished Corey knew how hard it was for her growing up. She wished she had felt her mother’s love. She prayed she’d never get that desperate to have to beg or steal for her basic needs again. She wrote them all.
She wished her momma hadn’t gone into that convenience store with the intent to rob it.
She filled up one whole side of her journal page. She reread what she wrote. Then she reread the passage from the Bible. Without even praying for an epiphany, the passage was helping her see that she was living a life opposite of the one she lived in her past. All her needs were being met. She had plenty, yet in
many ways, she was stealing without the stickup and ski mask.
She was her mother.
Pill prayed forgiveness for every purse, pair of pumps, and wardrobe piece she ever pilfered, and any of her mother’s schemes she had performed. She gave herself permission to purge on the page in an attempt to answer one question. Why was she not content? She wrote and filled up two more pages. Some entries were wishes predicated on other people. Others were hopes that she would pray about. One prayer that she had written that had already been uttered was that she and her husband would work their problems out.
When she finished, she had a rush of panic that her secrets were finally out and could be found. It was almost funny that she could write on paper that which she had not shared with anyone. She had always been her own publicist, controlling who or what had access to her personal life. It was a role she was steadfastly determined to keep steward over. She slid the journal under her side of the mattress.
There was absolute truth to the phrase, “the truth will set you free.” She felt phenomenal, as if she could conquer all. She figured if she could scale the mountain of her past, she could mount the molehill of her debt. She knew exactly where to go.
Chapter 26
Pill remembered that there was a small brick bank across the street from her own bank. Lend It specialized in money fast, and even advertised with a catchy jingle on television that bragged that, “We get money in the hands of people who need it.” Despite the cashmere sweater she wore and silk afghan scarf around her neck, she definitely fit into the “need” category. Maybe there she could get a small loan. She brought enough information with her to apply for a job with the CIA.
She sported her shades and spent no time going inside as if she were a celebrity escaping the paparazzi. She didn’t want anyone to see her, but more important, she did want to see a certain someone.
The inside looked more like the carryout restaurants in her old neighborhood. There were plate glass windows everywhere protecting those that serve from the ones being served. A menu displayed choices of services from payday and car title loans, bill pay and wire transfers, check cashing to money orders.
Pill stood behind two other patrons who, like her, were staring at the menu prepared to make it their way. A Lend It associate speaking louder than was comfortable for Pill assisted an elderly woman who needed to pay her electric bill.
“Has your service been terminated, ma’am?” the female associate blurted out. Pill wondered if it was the three panes of glass or pure insensitivity that stripped this woman’s voice of emotion.
The elderly woman nodded and stepped closer to the glass with the aid of a cane, which made Pill and the other patron look away to preserve a bit of the woman’s privacy.
“The reconnect fee on this will be thirty-five dollars, and our fee is three additional dollars.”
The woman looked at the other handful of hard earned bills clipped to billing statements. She scratched her head, causing her wig to shift a bit. Pill watched from the side of her eye as the woman yanked a few bills from one clasp and one from another. Pill could see she wasn’t the only one who performed random stickups without a ski mask. In this woman’s case, she robbed Peter and Paul in broad daylight and handed the money over to Dominion Power.
Pill wondered how long this woman had been paying her bills this way.
“Anything else?” the associate yelled.
The woman shook her head and mumbled, “I’ll be back down here when my check comes.”
That was Pill’s cue to divert her eyes again as the woman turned to leave. She moved up on the heels of a man in front of her in hopes of getting her business complete before anymore patrons came in. She couldn’t have the loud talking associate broadcasting her business. The man cashed his meager paycheck and promptly tossed 10 percent of it in the Virginia State lottery pot on a combination of numbers that had meaning to him. His usual, he called them. Pill wondered if those numbers usually worked out in his favor.
She nabbed a trifold brochure to silence her conscience. She was in no position to judge anyone there, although she tried to distinguish her circumstances as categorically different. She needed money now. Once again, she had spent her take-home pay and couldn’t make the monthly payment. Taking out the loan made sense to her. Her marriage depended on it. She realized now that Silver Sliver was not her lover, but rather caustic to have around. When she came clean to Corey, she would not only have a plan to eradicate her debt, but would sacrifice her idol before him as he had done their previous credit cards.
She decided she would see if she could get a loan for an even three thousand to cover the entire bill to avoid having to come back ever again. She was starting to realize this wasn’t a bank at all, but rather a huge convenience store where everything was prepackaged and overpriced. Is God here though? More important, was He in the decision she was about to make?
Pill quickly scanned the terms of the loan agreement as if the answer were there. She had to make it right. She had to do something. Two-thirds of the brochure was a one-size-fit-all application for all loan services. She began filling it out as the cashier made small talk with the man in front of her. She didn’t have a traditional payday, so the proof of salary needed to get a payday loan was nearly impossible without the associate contacting Carmen directly for her estimation and verification of employment.
Pill circled car title loan. Satisfied that she had placed all her information in the right spot, she went back to scanning the terms. She saw lien fee and wasn’t quite sure what that meant. When the man in front of her moved on, she decided to ask the loud associate.
“With a car title loan, we hold your title until you pay us back,” the woman shouted as if it were self-explanatory.
Pill paused. She had a strong urge to call Corey, but remembered he was barely speaking to her. She also remembered the Cosmo article, “Things to Keep from Him.” First Lady said make it right; she didn’t say she had to inform him on how she did it.
The bell rang on the door to alert her that she and the attendant were not alone. Pill reached into her purse and pulled out a plastic bag filled with her life organized in a series of important papers. If her car title was in there, she qualified; then she would proceed to do what she had come to do.
She spilled the contents of the bag on the sparse counter, where she lifted each document, Social Security card in its original envelope, marriage license, and insurance papers. There in the midst was a manilacolored certificate.
“Right there, ma’am, the car title,” the woman said, waiting for Pill’s eureka! moment. She beckoned for the documentation, and Pill reluctantly handed it over like a woman at a pawnshop handing over her wedding ring. She made a promise like the first customer, to return in the next couple of weeks when she got paid.
Pill couldn’t leave the store fast enough after processing. Having $3,000 in her pocket didn’t lighten her burden like she thought it would. She didn’t have time to mull over her trouble because right in front of her, right smack in the middle of the street, was her nemesis.
Pill was not surprised to see him in a position with his bucket & sign. She was surprised to see him with a teenage girl.
All of a sudden, Pill became very interested in this man as she watched him give the girl some money from his back pocket. The girl, in turn, then looked both ways before crossing the street, kicking up the cuffs of long, hideous-looking wide leg pants toward the strip mall Pill was standing in. Pill’s eyes didn’t leave her until she had walked diagonally across the parking lot toward an old Oldsmobile station wagon. The girl tossed her knapsack inside the old car before heading off.
Who is she? What heinous thing could he be doing with her?
Pill didn’t realize she had been walking aimlessly from the Lend It store down to the dry cleaners while she was engrossed in the homeless man and this girl. She also didn’t realize she had spoken her thoughts aloud to herself. She paused so not to collide with a woman coming
out with several clear plastic hanger bags of freshly laundered shirts and suits, as if her entire wardrobe was dry-cleaned.
“That’s Martin’s daughter,” the friendly female bystander said as if they had been engaged in a conversation all along. Apparently, she was the type of woman who didn’t mind sharing the dirt and her opinion about said dirt as it related to any and everybody’s business.
“Martin?” Pill obliged her.
“Martin, he’s the homeless guy out there at the corner. He’s always out there. You must not be from around here if you haven’t seen him,” the woman said.
“Gosh, he’s raising his daughter on the street?” Pill murmured to herself.
“I go to church not too far from here, and the missionaries down at the church have been helping him for a while now. They say he ain’t been right since his wife died and he lost his job. The shelters are way too dangerous to raise a little girl in. He don’t like taking charity. They say he is really trying to pick himself up on his own.”
Pill wondered how this woman knew so much about shelters and Martin if she wasn’t a missionary herself. She remembered Corey greeting him like some long lost relative. Was she the only one skeptical about this man? He was the parent. Wasn’t it his obligation to get over his issues and provide a better life for his daughter?
No momma, no money. Pill’s heart went out to the young girl immediately. It’s hard enough being a teenager, conflicted about self-image and the struggle for independence. Pill knew what it felt like to add survival to the mix. Plus, she was horribly out of fashion, Pill thought. She could just imagine the ridicule of her peers, that is, if she even went to school at all.
“You know, the Bible says the poor you will have with you always. God could take care of them in a blink of an eye, but I guess He’s waiting to see if the saints of God will stop being so selfish and take care of someone besides ourselves.” She smirked while looking down at her dry-cleaning receipt stapled to the bag folded over her arm.
Taylor Made Page 19